Okay, apologies for the delay. I got a cold and just wasn't in the mindset to write. Also, I didn't want to upload until I had two chapters for you. Enjoy.

Chapter 5

As usual, infected were milling about outside the base. Being torn apart by the automated defence turrets set up on the walls. Blackwatch soldiers stood guard by the gates, firing on anything that came too close. The infected didn't stand a chance against Blackwatch defences. They were cut to pieces.

Medic looked on, finding dark amusement in the scene before him. The infected seemed to recognize their disadvantage and didn't try to approach the gates. But Blackwatch made a game of picking them off with as few shots as possible. The sounds off their taunts carrying through the open space to reach his ears.

Medic crouched in the doorway of an abandoned building, awaiting orders from Bishop. He watched the infected stumbling around to his left. Some coming within a few feet of him. Most of the infected seemed to lose their basic sense of sight. It was theorized that they found their prey by scent or heat. But Medic's armour blocked both. So he was invisible to most infected.

After a few minutes, his ear piece crackled before Bishop's voice came through. "Medic, Red Crown has announced our presence. We have clearance. Is our path clear?"

"We have walkers. But nothing too difficult. We shouldn't have much trouble moving undetected." Medic noted.

"Copy that. Let's move." Bishop replied. Medic rose slowly until he was nearly standing and waited with his gun sweeping steadily from side to side. Soon, he felt a light tap on his shoulder and began moving forward. Deftly slipping between the disorganized lines of infected. They soon came within sight of the men at the gates. But it was another few seconds before anyone noticed them approaching swiftly.

The soldier that noticed them called to his companion and pointed to the line of four strange soldiers slipping through the horde like ghosts. The man seemed to search for a second before nodding in acknowledgement. He then laid a hand over the scanner, causing the gate to slide open.

The team straightened up as they walked through the gate. Eyeing the other soldiers distantly. Assessing discipline and ability. They determined that the soldiers were about as skilled as any Blackwatch grunts, and as stupid.

They made their way to the mess-hall. Acknowledging the stiff salutes of the door guards with nods. The base was nearly identical to the many others scattered throughout NYZ and they had no difficulty navigating.

After gathering some of the cold slop that was food in the RZ, Typhon settled down at a corner table. Watching the other soldiers intently. For their part, the Blackwatch grunts passed the newcomers off as stuck-up higher-ups and avoided them, which Typhon liked just fine.

They were nearly finished with their meal when a group of three Blackwatch grunts swaggered up to them. The local shit-heads. Medic guessed. "Well, what do we have here?" The lead grunt asked. "Looks like fresh meat to me." He said, answering his own question. His companions chuckled in agreement and heads were seen turning throughout the mess hall. Jester was the only one to react, glancing up from his meal to study the newcomers.

Jester smiled viciously. Anticipating violence. "And you'd be our friendly, neighbourhood dumb-ass, right?" He said. It was phrased as a question. But his tone was that of someone lecturing a child.

The man seemed shocked that someone had insulted him. Staring at Jester as though he had three heads. His companions looking at each other uncertainly. Medic guessed they were either high-ranked, or considered themselves the top dogs."I'll take your confused expression for a yes." Jester informed him before turning back to his meal.

The man stood for another second before trying to pull the rank card. "Sergeant. Max Walkens. State your name and rank, soldier." He said. Trying to assume an air of command. Medic figured the simpleton thought they were common infantrymen. Which wasn't a horribly stupid assumption. Considering they wore no form of identification.

Jester sighed before looking back at the sergeant. Wondering how he could provoke him. Mentor shoved the last bit of his meal into his mouth and leaned against the wall to watch. Bishop continued to eat as though nothing had changed. Medic was eyeing the three men critically. Assessing their skill. While the rest of the people were watching the proceedings with interest.

Finally, after a few seconds of silence, Jester deigned to respond. "Well then Max, my name is Jester." A grin spread across his face as he saw the man tense with anger at the disrespect in Jester's words.

"Name and rank, soldier. I don't care what your friends call you." At this Jester let out a small chuckle and rose from his seat. At this, Bishop looked up and sighed. He turned to Medic and whispered.

"Make sure he doesn't kill them. Else we'll have a shit-ton of paperwork and they won't redeploy us for at least a couple weeks." Medic nodded in acknowledgement. Bishop went back to eating and Medic shifted so he could get up fast.

"That hurts, Max. That really hurts. You know, I thought we had a connection." Jester said. A glint in his eye.

"State your name and rank or I'll have you detained and shipped off to Gentek for experimentation." The Sergeant said threateningly. But Jester only smiled wider. This was the moment he'd been waiting for.

"Well, Max. I suppose you'll just have to detain me." Jester said. His manic grin never left his face. The Sergeant signalled to the two goons behind him. They made their way behind Jester, keeping their guns trained on him. Jester waited until there was one goon on each side of him. He then slowly raised his hands to his head as he was expected to do. However, half-way through the movement his arms shot outwards, each hand closing around the barrel of a gun. He pushed the barrels forward as the goons holding them pulled the triggers in reflex.

The shots narrowly missed the other occupants of the room before Jester pulled his arms together causing the goons to lose their balance. In an attempt to stop themselves from falling, they relinquished their grips on the weapons and spread their arms wide. Jester then used the butts of the two rifles he was holding as blunt weapons. Thrusting them into the two soldiers guts and winding them.

The men were still trying to maintain their balance when the blows came. They reflexively brought their hands down causing them to lose their footing and topple to the floor. Clutching their abdomens.

Jester had started laughing once he'd made his move and was now holding to rifles by the barrels and staring at Max with a frenzied grin on his face. Max was simply staring at him with a puzzled expression. Having seen two of his men disarmed and stunned in a little over a second. All by the man he'd assumed to be an arrogant troublemaker.

Medic remained seated. He knew Jester well enough to tell he was still in control and that meant there was no need to act. Yet. It all depended on what Max Walkens did next. So, until the situation became clear, he would sit back and enjoy the show.

Jester managed to suppress his laughter, but his grin remained. "Well, Max. Looks like that didn't turn out so well. Still feel like shipping me off for experimentation?" He asked. Chuckles punctuating the end of every sentence.

Max looked at him for a second before steeling himself and responding. "That was the wrong move, soldier. Your ass is finished." He then turned and began to walk away. Wrong move. Medic thought.

Jester started walking after him. Tossing away the gun in is left hand and throwing the other into the air. Reversing his grip so he was now holding it by the handle, finger on the trigger. "Hold on a second there, Max. We're just getting started." Jester said. Max didn't even slow down. Jester sighed. "Have it your way." He raised the gun to his shoulder and took aim at Max's chest. His finger tightening on the trigger.