Something Strange

The alien butt-kicking begins! Headshot should be happy. Heck, not just him. I should say all who regularly read this fic.

Medico and Reaper, you have been accepted, but you won't be in for quite a while. Don't worry... you'll show up eventually.

There won't be too much action in this chapter (it's supposed to be a milk run), but in the next "saga", there will definitely be.

Arh, there shouldn't be a need for too long an introduction. Enjoy the fight scenes. (finally!)

Chapter 4: Shooting In Style


The team loved theatrics, as John and Stewart could see. Dargon put two rounds into the panes of glass on the automatic doors (now no longer automatic) with his USP Elite, the result being two spiderweb-like cracks in the panes. Headshot smashed them open with the butt of his FAMAS, and the team leaped inside.

It was more quiet than they expected; maybe a few moans echoing in the empty mall, but that was it. Bloodstains were splattered onto the walls along with some yellow fluid that looked almost too mysterious to mention. Two zombies lay against a pillar, and puddles of fluid mixed with blood were forming where they rested.

It was the first time John and Stewart were actually seeing a zombie. John walked tentatively towards the prostrate form, only to be roughly yanked backward by Dargon.

sYn fired twice, one round into each zombie's skull. They groaned and slumped even further down, and the undead were dead. Again.

Headshot strode forward and probed the first one with his foot, and got no response. He beckoned, and the team strode forward cautiously.

It was even more grotesque than they had thought. It looked human, at least, if you didn't look at the hands or head. Then again, it had lost too much blood to even be physically possible.

Stewart prodded the turkey-shaped object on the zombie's head. "Do all headcrabs look like this?"

"Not all the time," the team leader replied, not looking at him, but his eyes still scanning the upper levels of the mall. "They expand to accommodate human heads. Not much is known about these alien fauna, and surprisingly one of the most mysterious is the headcrab.

"They manage to evolve to mutate humans, yet they have no humans on their home planetat least, that's what we think."

Repeated gunfire was heard, and the team swivelled to see Kesenai taking out three revived zombies with his dual Mini-Uzis. "We'd better go, sir," he said, casting a glance at the corpses that lay a few metres from him. "They'll overwhelm us if we stay here."

"Roger that," Headshot nodded. "All right. Split up, team!"

Team Gamma and Beta sprinted to the second floor, while Team Alpha moved forward.

"Status check," the squad leader ordered.

"sYn reporting in, sir. Alien presence is negative. Awaiting orders, sir."

"Kesenai reporting in, sir. Alien presence is minimal."

"Dargon reporting in, sir. Alien presence is negative. Awaiting orders, sir."

The thunderous report of a .50BMG echoed throughout the building's four walls, and two zombies dropped. Another pair followed soon after.

"Alien threat removed, sir," Kesenai said tersely. "Awaiting orders."

Headshot paused for a while, then clicked his mike back on. "Gamma, provide covering fire for us. Beta, remove all alien threats on the upper levels. Move it!"

"Aye sir!"

"Yes sir!"

"I'm on 'em."

Headshot turned to John. "Let's see what they got."

No sooner had he said that than a fast zombie came screaming down from the third floor, claws outstretched.


Obviously, it never even made contact with Headshot. A 7.62 millimetre round swiftly came earthward, severing the head not-quite-so cleanly from the shoulders. Stepping aside, Headshot stared at the trajectory of the undead body as it made contact with the floor with a muffled thump. The head whistled down a millisecond later, splattering the SWAT operator with blood.

sYn surveyed her handiwork, her G3 still smoking. "I'd like to see Kesenai top that," she said with satisfaction, eyeing the clean bullet hole.

"Just watch me," the other sniper snorted, his voice crackling over the headset.

Another thunderous blast came from the floor above her, and there was a spat curse, followed by the thump of a zombie hitting the ground, and the clicking of an AWP being rebolted. "Crap. Lemme try again."

"Maintain radio silence," Headshot said, and they could visualise his frown even though they couldn't see it. "And stop these stupid contests already... you're going to get someone killed."

"Aye sir," Kesenai sighed, and slung his rifle over his back, pulling out his Glock-20 to dispatch some zombies that were drawing nearer.

"Spoilsport," sYn mumbled under her breath, before clicking her mike back on. "Yes sir."


(Team Beta)

Stewart squeezed the trigger of his rifle steadily, pouring lead into the few zombies in front of him. It was quite a lot easier than fighting terrorists, or criminals for that matter. They just stumbled straight into his line of fire.

They had incredible natural resilience, however; if he aimed anywhere except for the head, it took a long time to take them down, maybe six to seven bullets compared to the three headshots.

They were crouched in the corner, and since there was no need for cover (the zombies had no ranged attacks) they merely crouched or stood, guns blazing away.

But they almost overwhelmed the duo at one point of time; Kesenai's sniper rifle had jammed while the SWAT operator was reloading. The sniper's Uzis were relatively slow-firing, but still powerful. As luck would have it, however, Stewart forgot to bolt his AUG in his panic.

They'd gotten out of that mess when Kesenai dropped an Uzi to draw his Glock, and Stewart finally realised that hadn't cocked it.

The kid was good; he was a teenager and he handled that huge rifle like a pro. Of course, the other girl was better, but her gun was of a smaller caliber, only 7.62 millimetre.

Of course, he'd never doubted the firepower of Heckler and Koch weapons, but the Arctic's half-inch slug delivered quite a blow to anything in its path. And anything behind it.

It had actually gotten quite monotonous after that one incident with the unbolted Steyr, until there was a sound of a cross between a monkey's angered screech and the howl of a wolf, followed by several others.

All firing stopped in an instant.

Sounds of rapid movement on metal echoed throughout the building. Stewart squinted. He'd heard that noise before.

And so had Kesenai, apparently, because he barely gave Stewart time to turn away from the blast before he pointed his rifle at the ceiling, and pulled the trigger.

There was an enraged scream, and the dying form of... well, something, crashed out of the air duct and plummeted down to the ground floor.

Then the operator knew... it was one of those things. The same type of zombie that had attacked Deputy McPherson, those long, lanky, seemingly-frail zombies.

"Kesenai!" Headshot's voice came over the headset.

"Sir!"

"Take care of those leapers and get Stewart to cover you. Those things are nothing but trouble, so get 'em off our backs! I've got sYn working on it already."

"Affirmative, sir!"

Taking out a last zombie with a clean headshot from his Glock-20, Kesenai hefted his rifle, and reloaded it.

"Stick to me like glue," he said as he pulled the bolt back, and sprinted towards the railing, aiming his rifle downwards.

Peering through the scope, the sniper saw sYn's G3SG1 bucking against her shoulder as she took out fast zombies as soon as they came down. Dargon was keeping the lumbering corpses away from her with his USP Elite and an occasional 5.56 millimetre burst.

Twirling the dials on his scope swiftly, he pulled the trigger and ejected the casing, not even taking his eye away from the scope. He fired again and again, a slight growl rising in his throat as he relentlessly sent zombie after zombie flying with the force of his bullets.

He had to stop after five shots to reload, and Kesenai did it in less than three seconds, dropping the empty magazine and slotting a new one in, his free hand moving upwards to yank the bolt.

Without even bringing the rifle into firing position, another zombie was made into a gruesome ragdoll.


(Team Alpha)

Headshot blasted another zombie into assorted pieces with the last shot from his Desert Eagle. His MP7 was up in one hand and blazing as he reloaded, blood flying from the unshielded monkey-like zombies.

That was the only benefit of fighting fast zombiesthey did comparatively little damage, and they went down very quickly under suppressive fire. However, even with his vast battle experience, the howls, moans and screams of any kind of zombie, leaper or normal, never failed to freak him out.

He'd gotten control of his fears (and bowels) long ago, however. Fear was the ultimate enemy in combat. He was still somewhat scared, alright, but he could still function while being frightened.

The squad leader was impressed with John. The exterminators prided themselves as having better skills than teams all over the world. Sure, they were good, but far from the best. The two "borrowed" operators, however, were extremely experienced.

Watching the sheer amount of lead from John's M249 transform a fast zombie into hamburger, he fired his MP7 and Desert Eagle simultaneously into three approaching zombies, then dove forward to avoid a kamikaze leaper, who smashed into the tiles behind him, screaming.

The SWAT operator's SOCOM at close range made short work of it; he holstered it and went back to spraying rounds at oncoming zombies. A leaper in front of him screamed, and was about to spring, when it literally exploded in a mass of flying flesh and gore, splattering Headshot.

"Sorry, sir," Kesenai sheepishly said, but Headshot detected the amusement in his voice.

"That's the last leaper," Headshot broadcasted the message. "There's a lull. Status and ammunition check."

The reports came streaming in, rather slowly.

"Dargon reporting in, sir. Health at 92 percent, 68 rounds of 5.56mm ammo, nine 12-gauge shells and three fragmentation grenades remaining, sir."

"sYn reporting in, sir. Health at 94 percent, 52 rounds of 7.62mm ammo and five fragmentation grenades remaining, sir."

"Kesenai reporting in, sir. Health at 95 percent, 27 rounds of 12.7mm ammo and five fragmentation grenades remaining, sir. Partner appears to be alive and feisty."

So Dargon'd been hit by a leaper and a mawman, the nickname for the normal zombie. Kesenai had been hit by a mawman, and sYn by a leaper, twice.

It was times like these that Headshot truly appreciated the technological work of art that was the FLAMBERGE Armor. Using sensors under the armor plating, pressure pads would calculate how close one was from death, and indicate it on a heads-up display in the suit interface.

Nodding his approval, Headshot turned his attention to the battle.

"We'll need to find the few remaining zombies that need to be eliminated. With any luck, we can find the zombified SWAT operators and then haul rear outta here," he said. "Search every place for any sign of alien life, and eliminate it.

"Remember, we can't afford to leave any sign of us here. The media will come after us, and the last thing we need is the military and government on our backs.

"Team Beta, continue to patrol the third level. Gamma, scout on the second, and Alpha will handle the ground floor. Move out!"


(Team Gamma)

Dargon held his CAR-15 loosely in one hand, while drawing one of his two knives. He flipped it casually into a stabbing position, blade facing downwards. He brushed past a few clothesracks, and flicked his suit's flashlight on.

Bathed in the pool of light, was a prostrate zombie, not stirring. Aiming the light elsewhere, the rifleman found that there were at least five more in the vicinity. And if they were to revive...

Dargon knelt and plunged his knife unhesitantly into the zombie's head. It gave a brief scream, then fell limp, the headcrab sliding off. And what was underneath that was almost too hideous to see.

He looked away from the bloodied face that was frozen in a silent scream, now with a knife wound in the forehead. Crossing the room, he repeated the process with another zombie. However, as he got to the third one, it grunted.

The rifleman froze, bringing his carbine up to bear. The zombie shifted its weight, and unsteadily got to its feet, only to be killed by a burst from the Colt.

Wailing came from behind him, and he swung around, his CAR-15 blazing away. The unfortunate undead were cut down by the stream of fire, and they never moved again.

Four steady shots came from the other direction, and there was the staccato of small-caliber pistol shots being fired.

sYn came striding solemnly amongst the assorted clothes hanging on racks, some stained with blood that no amount of detergent could remove.

It was morbid, the rifleman wondered, but they wouldn't need to worry about their business any morethey were dead.

He watched the sniper take a short-sleeved shirt off one of the hangers. "Hey, think this would fit me?" she asked jokingly.

Dargon smiled. "Yeah, it would, but I don't think that bloodstain would really go."

sYn looked down at it. It was quite a mess, a plain blue shirt splashed with brown and red, and the occasional streak of sickly yellowish green.

"I guess you're right," she chuckled. "Not to mention it'd smell pretty darn bad."

Laughing, Dargon quickly stopped when there was a low, almost fluting noise from behind him. Warily, he turned, and it quickly escalated into a high-pitched scream. Both exterminators raised their weapons instinctively.

Leapers!

Or was it? It had seemed quite a lot lower than what normal fast zombies' calls, and it wasn't nearly as high either. Fast zombies' wailing only crescendoed when they were attacking, and by now they should be feeling the rush of wind...

A footstep, unsteady and heavy, moved towards them. It gave the impression of staggering, then a stop in an attempt to regain balance. Dargon listened closely. He was the best at this kind of thing, listening and looking for clues.

If the footstep was unsteady, it was either wounded or had a heavy weight on it. Might be a normal zombie, but not a leaper, which moved silently. But if it had a heavy weight on it, maybe it was severely wounded in the upper regions, like the torso, or the head...

But a zombie wouldn't have survived something that serious. A severe injury to the head, and the thing would die. A severe injury to the torso would just make the 'crab jump off .

A heavy weight, and a severe wound... not human. They would have died from a lethal wound...

Dargon visibly paled. He was unsure, but he had to clarify.

sYn looked at him in concern. "What's going on?"

He didn't respond, instead looking straight ahead, and increasing the light intensity on his suit's flashlight. He tried to focus that pool of light on that target area... Ah, yes. Right in front. Dargon squinted...

What was illuminated in the beam was proof enough for him.

The rifleman turned to sYn, who stepped back several paces, horrified, her rifle hanging loosely in one hand. He gestured violently towards the inviting exit, quickly slinging his rifle over his shoulder.

"Run. Now!"


(Team Alpha)

They'd found relatively little alien threats; a few shots eliminated the undead resistance that they had encountered. It was almost getting mundane, but John was particularly interested in the fallen zombies.

"That's what I was like when I first took up this job," Headshot remarked, as John stooped to scrutinize another zombie. "I was fascinated, yet terrified by these creatures. It's hard to kill them, but if you have the mentality that they aren't human any more, there won't be much opposition from your conscience."

John nodded, his eyes still on the corpse in front of him. "What amazes me is that you guys are so incredibly skilled, yet you're only teenagers. How long have you been training?"

"Roughly three to four years," the squad leader said, shrugging. "We're quite strict in practice, so we have the opportunity to do work, and improve at the same time. We go to school, all right, but we miss most of the jobs on weekdays."

"You people live the good life," John said admiringly. "But how do these things actually get here?"

Headshot hesitated.

"It's a long story," he said finally, rubbing his hands. "What we still don't know, however, is why all of these creatures are aggressive. The planet that they come from must be one heck of a"

Dargon's strained voice came over the headset, cutting him off. "Sir! We need immediate assistance! We've got a toxic over here, I repeat, a toxic!"

Kesenai was obviously incredulous, judging by his tone. "Toxic?"

John was about to ask what a "toxic" was, but Dargon screamed over the headset:

"Yes, a poison zombie, nitwit!"

"Roger that, Dargon. Moving to your position," Headshot said quickly, sprinting towards the no-longer-functional escalators. "Beta, you heard him! Move out!"

"You got it, sir," Kesenai replied, and Headshot saw him rounding the corner across from where sYn and Dargon were. "I'll stay here."

Team Alpha pounded up the steps and dove into the darkened departmental store, where Headshot detected the muzzle flashes and gunfire. He dropped to one knee and moved, in a half-crouch, towards their position.

"John," he said, without looking back, "use that SAW of yours to distract it. We've got to lure it out, where the snipers can take care of it."

The SWAT operator nodded his affirmative and strafed to the side, then fired a burst at the huge lumbering form.

He couldn't see it very clearly, but he noticed a mass of what seemed like severe acne, or huge boils on the zombie's torso and head. It was amazing how it could still stand under that entire mass of writhing parasites. It was as bloated as he thought it would be, but he didn't expect there to be about seven headcrabs on the thing. The video had only shown four, but he reasoned that the entire team had been firing on it.

Dargon noticed him and gestured wildly at a lump on the floor beside him, so in between potshots, John made his way over to the rifleman.

The other sniper (ah, yes, her name was sYn) was leaning heavily against the counter. The body of a mottled green headcrab was a few centimetres from her, seven smoking holes in its body.

She'd been bitten, he realised grimly.

"Go," Dargon said, slotting another shell into the Remington 670. "I'll distract it. Take her where it's safe. She'll recover, but it's gonna be real slow."

He hesitated, not liking the thought of Headshot and Dargon attempting to hold the zombie off.

"Go!" the exterminator yelled, pulling the trigger. "It's weakening anyway, we'll be fine!"

John hoisted her up (gosh, that armor was heavy) and made his way to the rectangle of light.

But as soon as he was outside he realised that he should have stayed for just a while longer, because there was a cry of anger, pain, then silence.


Headshot flipped the select-fire switch on his rifle, ready to goad the troublemaker to the exit.

He'd heard Dargon get bitten by a toxic headcrab, but since he'd dispatched it, the squad leader figured that his comrade would be safe for the time being. Or so he hoped.

The zombie was closer, and it was bleeding from all the wounds it had sustained. Only two headcrabs were stil clinging like barnacles to its body, and he figured the odds were pretty against the zombie.

Plus, Kesenai had a slug ready to put into its ugly head, once he got it outside.

It was even closer now, and it had stopped, hesitating before the light. Understandable. It had been shrouded in darkness for the past half-hour or so. It was perfectly logical.

Fascinating, yet...

Deadly. And it was a threat to be taken care of.

Headshot pulled the trigger, almost relishing the zombie's screams.


Kesenai peered through the 10-times zoom. The team's preferred method for dispatching poison zombies was either a fragmentation grenade, which was tough, because zombies tended to hurl objects back, or to goad it out to where he or sYn could see it, then they would fill its head with lead.

But when he saw John dragging a limp sYn out, he knew he'd have to do this one on his own.

And there was Headshot, sprinting out as well... but where was Dargon?

If the zombie came out, Dargon was dead, or unconscious.

If the zombie was still inside, Dargon was doomed to die, but still alive.

He didn't have time to calculate the odds, because the giant stumbled out into the light.


It was over in less than a secondit had just melted away as soon as it came out, the thick slug going right into its brain. Definitely dead. Hell, its head had come straight off, the headcrabs shredded by a hail of rounds.

The exterminators moved like ants; not towards the zombie, but past it. Looking for Dargon. sYn was still trying to get to her feet, but she went with them anyway.

Kesenai and Stewart waited for what seemed like ages, but eventually, dazed but still alive, the rifleman came out with the rest of the team. The mission was pretty much over. All they had to do was find the bodies of...

"Aw, crap," Kesenai groaned.

It was digging time.


The exterminators gathered at their van. They looked like teenagers again, with their sweat-streaked faces, and armor stripped off. It was a tradition to do a recount of the mission's events at the end of every one. But in this case, it was a rather messy recount.

"Some milk run, Headshot, I almost died."

"Well excuse me! How was I supposed to know that there was a toxic somewhere in the mall?"

"I want you to know, Kesenai, that I'm not going to clean your armor for you."

"Don't blame me if I end up spoiling something while doing so."

"Why should I? It's your armor."

They stopped as Deputy McPherson stepped up, clearing his throat. "Well, kids"

"Kids?" sYn raised an eyebrow.

The deputy looked nervous again, but he continued. "Thanks for helping us clear out the area, and I hope my men were helpful. Like you requested, we didn't contact the press, and we'd like to thank you with"

"No plaque or medal for us, thanks," Headshot said. "We'd rather have, uhm, well, you know..."

"Yes?" the officer asked curiously.

"If there's anything we want, it's money. This is our job, you know..." Headshot said uncomfortably, shifting his weight from one foot to another. "If you don't mind..."

Four metallic clicks were heard, and the deputy suddenly noticed that all the team members' holsters were empty and that they were standing with both hands behind their backs. And each of them had Cheshire-style grins on their faces. Very evil ones at that.

Requests are tough things to ask indeed. For them to have any impact... you gotta deliver them right.


Chapter 4 is done! I'm sorry for the delay, guys, I really am. I kept rewriting the chapter, and I apologize if the ending was a bit rushed, since I was trying to complete this in time for sYn's birthday.

Meatwad, Medico, Reaper and Artemis will show up in the next chapter. Don't worry... with any luck this'll be up before half a year, like this one was. Sorry if the format's changed. QuickEdit is screwing around.

Happy birthday, sYn! She's been a lot of encouragement and a faithful reviewer. Thanks! -hug- Hope this is a good enough birthday present for someone like you.