Author's Note: All properties are the rights of their respective owners, DC comics, inc., Monolith Productions, etc.
Alright, hopefully y'all all had a fine thanksgiving, and if you don't celebrate, I hope you had a happy Thursday. As for me, I was dragged to see Wicked and came out of that wanting to do something with a much better magic user.
Big Fan: Good to hear from you again. The truth is that I never stopped writing, I just had to slow my pace to accommodate life, which has now stabilized and is going well. As for AWA, I actually have more of that written than I do this story, but it kept getting delayed due, mainly, to my laziness. At first I wanted to start it on the first anniversary of Spider-Man 2 coming out, then the end of November, and now it looks like it'll be a middle of December release if all holds. I have a lot of chapters drafted out, some are ready to go, just wanting a few more things to come together because of how painful the gestation process for that story has been. As for the Wild Pack, their roster, and that for Sable International, is pretty set and I only add characters if I have a story need for them at this point. You'll probably see what the Pack looks like on release because I'll be doing two chapters in that first post.
Without further ado, here we go.
Zatanna: Synchronicity
Chapter 2: Escalation
The Point Man donned the MOLLE harness he'd taken off one of the dead clones and ensuring it was full of ammunition for the pilfered XM8 Rifle. Oswalt then looked back at his unexpected companion before fingering his earpiece to give an update. "Point Man to Tomcat, come in, over."
"Tomcat here," replied Betters over the radio, "Got an update for me Point Man? Find Jankowski?"
"Roger on the first," replied the operator, "But no sign of Jankowski. I found someone else of note."
"Yeah? Who?" asked the FEAR Team Coordinator.
"Zatanna Zatara," answered the Operator, looking back at the woman. She was busy performing some magic ritual, a small ball of purple light cupped in her hands as he looked her over. She appeared to be in her mid twenties, about his age, and looked every bit the part of the Vegas show girl that she was; raven hair flowed down past her gorgeous face, high cheekbones and full lips curled in a playful smirk and mirthful blue eyes. Corset top and tuxedo jacket, both of which still exposed a generous amount of her cleavage framed by the white bowtie tied around her neck, hugged her like a second skin. The tailored clothes cinched tightly around her thin waist and stopped short of her wide, voluptuous hips, which themselves were encased in high waisted, high leg cut spandex hot pants that looked more like bikini bottoms, leaving lots of leg exposed, covered only by fishnet leggings that gave way to heeled knee high leather boots.
Attire suited for a stage, not a shootout.
"The magician? What's she doing here?" blurted Betters.
"She says there's magic here, and she's here to investigate," replied the Point Man. "And she's more than a stage act."
"Psionics is closely related to magic, there could be some overlap… or Armacham is up to more than they're telling us," supposed the Team Coordinator. "You said she can take care of herself?"
"I think so, sir," replied the Point Man truthfully, but only after a moment's hesitation.
The FEAR Operator could hear the indecision in the coordinator's voice. "Then it could be a good idea to bring her along; if there is magic here then it would be good to have an expert on hand, and she's about as good as we're gonna get. You have a spare commlink?" asked Tomcat.
"A couple," returned Oswalt.
"Give her one, I'll talk to her," ordered Betters.
Pulling one of the devices out of a pouch on his pistol holster, the Point Man approached the meditating woman, "Excuse me, miss?"
Her eyes opened and she gave him a charming smile that got to Oswalt a bit more than he'd admit, "Please, call me Zee."
"Okay, Zee. Here, put this in," said the Point Man as he passed her the earpiece, "My commander wants to talk with you directly."
She did so, with Oswalt hearing a click as the new line was added to the channel before Betters drawl came over the radio. "Ms. Zatara, can you hear me?"
The Magician made a thumbs up gesture, "Yes I can."
"Good. My name is Rodney Betters, I'm the FEAR coordinator for this op," he introduced, "You do understand that this is an active combat zone, and while the Point Man will try to keep you alive, we cannot guarantee your safety?"
"I do," confirmed Zatanna. "Can you fill me in on what you know? I sense some strange magic, but how do these soldiers factor into it?"
"Armacham was experimenting with psionics for the DoD, the Psychic Commander for the program, Paxton Fettel, went wacko and took control of a battalion of clones, the Replica," explained Betters. "Our mission is to find and neutralize Fettel, we do that, and the Replica will shut down."
"No," said Zatanna, causing Oswalt's brow to furrow inside his mask. "No, that's not all that's happening here. There's more than just telepathic magic at play, there's… something else, something I've never seen before."
"That may be Ms. Zatara, but that doesn't change the mission. I want you to work with my Point Man on this. Stick with him, do what he says, help out where you can. Understood?"
Zatanna nodded, and gave Oswalt a reassuring smile, "I understand."
"Good, now I want you both to regroup with Jankowski, neutralize Fettel, and stop the Replica. Latest satellite pass shows Fettel hasn't gone far, just keep heading north," ordered Betters.
"Any word from Jankowski?" asked the Point Man.
"Nothing, haven't been able to raise him since insertion. But his vitals monitor shows he's still alive," informed Tomcat. "Also, Jin's finished up and is on her way to the water treatment plant."
"Point Man copies all, out," said Oswalt before the link crackled out, leaving him with just the proximity channel with the Magician. "Ready to get moving, Zee?"
"I'm ready," she affirmed before turning, only for Oswalt to reach out and grab her by the shoulder.
"I'm the Point Man, my point," he explained simply as he brushed past her and went ahead, "That means I go first."
"I can take care of myself," muttered Zatanna as she followed behind Oswalt towards a garage, the Point Man trying the door to find it locked. With a grumble of discontent, he stepped back to kick the door down when his new companion spoke up. "Allow me," she said with a showwoman's smile, "Rood nepo!" At her words, the door swung open, revealing the dimly lit vehicle bay with a handful of flatbed trucks and forklifts housed inside. "You're welcome."
Justin was too focused on what might lay inside to respond as he entered the garage and eyed every corner, his rifle at the ready, head lamp cutting through the darkness. Zatanna wasn't overly concerned by the potential danger as she casually strolled along behind him, humming a tune that he recognized as part of her act he'd seen earlier that night. "So…" she began, causing Justin to pause, "Do you normally deal with stuff like this?"
The Point Man continued his sweep, "FEAR's mission is to ensure national security against threats of a paranormal or supernatural nature," he rattled off, trying to stay focused on his surroundings.
"Government sanctioned ghostbusters, huh? Forget your proton pack?" she teased, but Oswalt didn't take the bait. Coming to an open door, Justin took a moment to check around the corner and saw Zatanna in his periphery, expression changing. "You ever see a ghost before?"
"Have you?" he countered tersely before taking a step out into the hall.
"Several," answered Zatanna without hesitation, "But they were all summoned, docile, or at least friendly. If there's a ghost here, then I don't think it's like that."
That brought pause to the Point Man, and after making one last sweep of the hallway ahead, he looked over his shoulder at the Magician. "Why?"
"The magic in the air, it's… angry, there's no other way to put it. Nothing I've ever felt before is like this," she admitted, her tone lowering. "This is more like Keres than anything else."
"A what?"
"Greek female death spirits, daughters of Nyx that fed on the dead. I've only ever read about them in my father's texts. If any are still around, they shouldn't be here, too far from home," she explained. "No, nothing I've ever read about quite matches this, you see anything in some top secret government report that could shed some light on this?"
"Wouldn't have the clearance, only been with the team for a week," replied Oswalt as they reached the end of the hall and were met with a choice. After a moment's thought and a quick hand gesture, the pair turned left. "Most of that was spent doing tests and paperwork."
"And what were you doing before that?" she asked curiously, enough to prompt Oswalt to turn around. "What? I want to know who I'm working with here."
Justin faced ahead and resumed his measured pace, only after checking the next corner did he answer. "Ranger school."
That caused the woman to furrow her brow, "What sort of Ranger?"
"Army Ranger, light infantry, earned my tab before getting this assignment," he told her with a bit of pride. Without a doubt, the 61 day course that took him from Fort Benning and the hills of Georgia to the swamps of Florida was the most grueling experience of his life, more so than his time in Iraq with the 101st.
It had been a blow to his ego when the newly promoted 1st Lieutenant, with a Bronze Star on his chest and a Ranger Tab on his shoulder, had been assigned to a civilian agency that was often viewed as a joke.
"Interesting, I don't usually get soldiers at my shows," hummed Zatanna as they moved down the next empty corridor.
Oswalt let out a low grunt, "Lotta chair force, I bet."
He didn't hear the slight sound of her heels and turned around to see her staring at him quizzically, "Chair… oh, I get it," she said with a small grin.
"Not that I blame 'em," replied the Point Man, giving the woman another glance before adding, "You put on a good show." Her smile widened at the compliment, and Oswalt said, "I just have one question, how much of it was fake?"
Zatanna's lips fell into a pout, hands placed on cocked hips, "A girl's gotta have some secrets, mister 'Point Man.'"
"Fair enough, just'd be nice to know what you can do when we run into more trouble," he answered coolly.
One of her eyebrows went up, "What makes you say 'when' we do?"
"Those Replica, there's more of them out there," returned Oswalt.
"How many more?" pressed the Magician.
The Point Man shrugged, "982, give or take."
She was trying her best not to show it, but Zatanna was on edge. Even fifteen minutes removed from her near death experience at the hands of the 'Replica,' her adrenaline was still going. In stark contrast to the man she was behind, the Point Man, as he called himself, moved smoothly and methodically, his rifle sweeping across every room they entered. He might have been an enigma, but Zatanna didn't mind that he was here, not with how he handled himself against the first group.
"Nepo rood," cast the Homo magi as they approached another small office building, the door swinging open to allow the pair in.
"That's some trick," muttered the Point Man with a shake of his head before stepping into the building, leaving Zatanna behind without a chance to retort. Stepping through the threshold after him, the Magician felt a chill rush through the air, and not because of the fishnet leggings she still wore. Stepping inside, Zatanna's eyes roved over the smattering of cardboard boxes and stacks of paper on the cheap wire shelves.
A sudden slam prompted the Homo magi to whip around and look at the now closed door, blinking incongruously at it. Her eyes saw the papers flutter as the wind picked up again. "You feel that too?" she asked, looking back at the Point Man to see his rifle was trained on the door.
"Yes, and I'm wearing pants," he deadpanned, his rifle turning back to the storeroom exit. "We need to…" said the FEAR operator before Zatanna saw something flash in her minds eye, a face, twisted in agony and blood running down from gouged out eyes and a torn off nose. Her ears were still ringing from the powerful psionic pulse as the image faded and she looked up to see the Point Man, rifle still poised at the door, take a poised step forward.
Staggering after him, Zatanna caught her breath and rounded the corner when a faint voice echoed down the hallway. "Is someone there?" it asked, a shadow cast on the wall ahead of them. The Point Man took off, moving down the hallway with newfound speed even as the shadow wandered off. Moving to keep up, the Magician saw the blood on the walls and on the floors, both in pools and streaked across the concrete, the shell casings kicked into corners. "Is someone there?" asked the voice again, shakier.
Rounding the next corner and faced with a long corridor, Zatanna saw a figure halfway down the hall. Stocky and broad shouldered, dressed like the Point Man, with the same acronym stamped on the back of his tan vest, the figure shambled through the hall. They quickly caught up with the figure, Point Man reaching out to lay a hand on its shoulder, but Zatanna watched the hand pass straight through the specter before it faded into ash. Point Man stared down at the floor, the ash fluttering down on his boots. Zatanna, wanting to get a better look, moved around him and let out a gasp. "Oh my god…."
Laid out in the room before them were a handful of bodies, though that was a charitable term. All that remained of the four people were bloodied, charred skeletons sprawled in the biggest pool of blood Zatanna had ever seen. She didn't know what exactly had happened, but the Homo magi could sense the magic that was seeping out of the bones. "Tomcat, this is Point Man. Do you have a fix on my location?"
"Sure do, Point Man. Find Jankowski?" asked the coordinator.
"Negative," replied the FEAR Operator, "But I found his Delta Team. All KIA."
"Damn, understood. I'll have someone pick them up. Keep going, Fettel is around there somewhere," urged Betters, a freshly renewed chill permeating the air.
The Point Man shifted his weight, reshouldering his rifle, "C'mon, let's let 'em rest," he said, voice having the slightest quiver.
Zatanna, not wanting to dwell on the gruesome sight, moved along, careful to step around the crimson pool and further into the room. This was another storeroom, the walls lined with pallets and wooden crates, but passing by a staircase up to an office sent a shiver up the magician's spine, bringing her up short and looking to the Point Man, who had his rifle trained on the office above. "You feel that too? That's not just any sort of magic, that's very potent magic."
The FEAR Point Man looked back over his shoulder, "The same magic that did that?"
Frowning, the magician couldn't bring herself to look back towards the bodies, but she instead answered with, "Maybe, magic is a vast, broad field, from telekinesis to ancient incantations, elemental manipulation to necromancy. But this… I don't know what it is."
The worry in her core must have made it into her words. "You can't know everything," returned the Point Man coolly.
"I'm the daughter of the foremost magic user in the world, taught in the mystic arts since I could read, and… and I should know what it is!" she snapped before her eyes widened. "Sorry, I didn't mean to…."
"It's fine," dismissed the Point Man, expression behind his red tinted goggles and black balaclava, "I've seen it before."
"You… what?" replied a bewildered Zatanna.
"Your first firefight was a minute ago, adrenaline's wearing off. You're not sure what's out there waiting for you," he said, and the Magician couldn't help but stare. "I've seen it before," he repeated.
"That so?" she asked, her confidence coming back, putting a hand on an outthrust hip, "What do I do?"
"You follow me," answered the Point Man, a boot on the first step, "And stay close."
Zatanna was surprised to find herself reassured by his words, and followed him up the steps to the small office. "Clear," announced the Point Man, and the Homo magi looked around the cluttered space, seeing more crates and even a small industrial machine in the corner, but no sign of any magic user, or anything out of place, except the window, which was shattered. "Looks like nowhere else to go," observed the Point Man as he peered down to the hallway below.
"Allow me," offered Zatanna as she offered her gloved hand, which he took, and flashing the man her best stage smile said, "Etativel!" She then stepped forward off the edge and floated in mid air, turning back with her same smile until he took a cautious step forward. The Point Man wobbled in mid air, off kilter all the way down to the ground below, causing Zatanna to smile genuinely until she felt the feet under her heeled boots.
She turned to face him, but her words died on her lips as a flash lit up the hallway and blinded the Magician. Turning, with an arm up to ward off the glare, Zatanna saw fires spontaneously erupt, the heat instant and unrelenting as she shambled back, unable to look away from the inferno. Eyes wide, Zatanna watched a figure emerge from the flames, a small girl about age 10, ghostly pale skin and greasy black hair that obscured her face, and a red long sleeved dress.
The fires spread with supernatural speed, covering the walls as they raced towards the pair. Thinking fast, Zatanna extended her hands and shouted, "Serif og tuo!" only for the flames to grow, crackling angrily as they climbed the walls and engulfed the ceiling.
Before she had a chance to cast another spell, the Magician was dragged away by the Point Man, the two running down the hall as walls before them began to erupt. "Mine!" rasped a high pitched voice, anger imbued in the single word as Point Man tried to drag Zatanna around a corner and out of the inferno, but a sudden blast threw the pair off their feet.
"Draw dnuor…" tried the Homo magi, but the words died on her lips as the Point Man shattered the glass window and went flying out, Zatanna close behind as the pair was flung outside and sent flailing down to the ground below.
Wearily, Oswalt opened his eyes, vision still blurry as he saw two looming figures hovering over him. "He's alive," announced one that his mind recognized as his FEAR teammate Jin, as the Korean American woman leaned in close to examine him.
"Should I call in a medevac?" asked Betters over the radio. Justin groaned and turned his head, looking towards a Zatanna who looked exactly as he remembered, her attire undamaged by their brush with death, though her face told a different tale.
Jin stepped back and pronounced, "He doesn't appear to be injured," drawing a sigh of relief from Zatanna. "Though I don't know how either of you survived," admitted the technical specialist, her gaze going up to the Magician.
"Easy, he broke my fall," replied the show woman, her smile forced, but enough to draw a chuckle from the Point Man, one that caused him to clutch his chest at the ache the action elicited from his bruised body.
Betters didn't entertain the banter and cut back in, "Worry about that later. I'm reading Fettel's transmitter near that position." The man's words caused Justin to slowly push himself up into a crouch, wincing behind his mask. "We've got to take that fucker out, fast."
Standing up to his full height, the Point Man took a deep breath and shook his head, not wanting to dwell on what'd just happened and looked for his gun. "Gnirb nug ot tniop nam!" intoned Zatanna, and the XM8 soon appeared before him, scratched and scorched, but still functional.
"Jin, keep looking for Jankowski," ordered Betters, "I'm still reading his life signs."
"This Jankowski," interjected Zatanna, is he 5 foot 9? Stocky? Armor like the Point Man?" she asked, pointing as Oswalt. Jin nodded, "Then I believe you will find him in that building," she said, pointing at the smoldering structure the pair had been flung out of. "His soul wanders its halls, though I doubt you will find him alive."
Justin's jaw clenched, he wanted to object, but he could feel it in his gut, the magician was right. Whatever they saw in there had killed the SFOD-D team, killed Jankowski too, though he had seen something that looked like his teammate shambling through the halls, it had just been him seeing things.
Hadn't it?
But Jin was focused on something else. "You're not sending him on alone, are you?" she asked, a worried look pointed at Justin.
"He can take care of himself," countered Betters dismissively.
"And he won't be alone," asserted Zatanna as she stepped alongside him.
Jin crossed her arms as she looked at them, and Justin could see the unease on her face. "No time to argue, move, before we lose him," ordered the Team Coordinator.
"Just… be careful, both of you," said the technical expert as the pair moved on, away from the shattered window.
Working their way between the buildings of the industrial complex, Justin kept their pace modest, slowly working through the bruises and wary of being jumped by whatever had just ambushed them. A sudden noise had him pressing himself into a doorway, pulling Zatanna close alongside him, and he poked his head out to see headlights on the other side of the chain link fence. Two armored trucks trundled past, heading in the same direction the pair was, causing Oswalt to grimace. "Stay sharp," he cautioned before slipping out of the doorway and raising his rifle.
"Where do you think they're going?" asked Zatanna.
Oswalt gave the question a moment's thought, "Regrouping, probably. Meet with their buddies and Fettel."
He could see Zatanna nod in the corner of his vision, "And how we will find them?"
Justin came to an abrupt halt as he spotted something amiss and let out a low breath. "We follow the trail," he answered, leading the magician to a doorway splatted with blood, more of the crimson liquid pooling at its base, bullet holes pockmarking the brick on either side and going straight through the wooden door. Pushing it open with the muzzle of his rifle, Oswalt saw more blood smeared across the floor, leading to a corner where a man lay dead, coveralls soaked through and half his head missing from the confirmation shot the Replica had no doubt put into him.
"So many," whispered Zatanna, and when Justin looked back her saw the woman's head bowed and hat held in her hands, lips moving but no words coming out of them. After a moment, her chin lifted and tophat returned to its rightful place, "Let's keep going."
They didn't get much farther before their radio's crackled to life. "Tomcat," called the Delta Force officer, prompting Justin and Zatanna to pause, fingers pressed to their earpieces. "Looks like I'm not going to be able to send you those reinforcements for a while. My helos just got diverted to Armacham headquarters. Something big is going on."
"No shit," retorted Betters, "My people are right in the middle of it."
"I hear ya. Wish I was calling the shots," answered the Major defensively.
Betters didn't dwell on that however. "Is it the same bad guys?"
"Looks that way. I'm a little short on details," admitted Delta.
The FEAR team coordinators final words mirrored Oswalt's own thoughts. "Guess this isn't a covert op anymore."
Proceeding deeper into the building, the pair ascended a staircase, alert for any sign of the Replica, the pair pressed through the upper floor. The only noises were the humming of lights and creaking of the floor between footfalls. The building seemed abandoned, but after their frighteningly close call, the Point Man's grip on his rifle tightened at every flickering light and errant shadow, especially when one of them looked like a little girl in a dress.
Reaching a door labeled with a dimly glowing 'EXIT' sign, Justin eased it open to see a well lit industrial yard filled with rumbling equipment surrounded by catwalks. The bigger issue was the squad of Replica soldiers patrolling the yard, the FEAR operative looking over them before easing the door shut and turning to his companion. "I need you stay here while I clear the area."
Zatanna's lips turned into a pout, "Well… I'm not," she replied, flipping her hair back. "So let's go. I can take care of myself."
Gritting his teeth, Oswalt, more worried about the Replica and Fettel escaping, answered, "Then keep your head down and don't draw their attention." Opening the door, Justin was faced with a choice to either stay put and engage from the elevated doorway or rush down and get away from the chokepoint. His snap decision was to move, rushing to a small control center and pressing himself to the wall, moving down to the far corner and spotting a Replica trooper on a rooftop, took aim and fired. The burst from the HK rifle cut the clone soldier down and drew the attention of the rest. Oswalt's rifle swung to another caught off guard and fired again, the 'Green Tip' 5.56mm armor piercing rounds cutting down the Replica in Oswalt's sights while the others dashed for cover.
Moving to the opposite corner, Oswalt reached the corner and waited until he heard the echo of gunfire bounce across the yard. Hearing the bullets pass by his previous position, Justin whipped out, snapping his XM8 onto the first Replica he saw with his superhuman reflexes, time seeming to slow as he lined up the shot and fired, seeing blood erupt from the clones chest as the Replica staggered and fell. Another Replica popped his head up to shoot back, but Oswalt was quicker on target and fired the last of his magazine, but it was mostly wasted as the first bullet went between the eyes of his target, painting the machinery behind him with viscera. A door across the yard opened and another Replica squad emerged, the four soldiers emerging onto the catwalks. "There! Behind the control room!" shouted a deep voiced clones over the comm.
"Laying down covering fire!" called another, which was all the warning Justin received to duck back behind the thick walls and hunker down. Bullets ripped through the air, snapping by while he flicked the empty magazine out of his rifle and reached for another when he saw a shadow cast on the wall, one coming up the stairs.
His pistol instantly in hand, the Point Man expected the Replica to come up the stairs at him, but instead a frag grenade arced through the air. Darting away, Justin sprinted to the railing and vaulted over, landing on a generator and rolling off onto the ground, face to face with a trio of clones at the base of the stairs. The trailing man had his gun coming around, and so Justin fired at him first, the big .45 ACP slugs staggering him back while Oswalt closed the distance. The man in the middle had thrown the grenade, which exploded with deafening reverberation, and was bringing his rifle up as the USP snapped to him and bucked again, the bullet tearing through his shoulder and drawing a guttural scream from the clone and spewing blood onto the leading Replica.
Seeing that lead Replica turn around while cradling a bulky, pump adorned shotgun caused Justin to fire a pair of errant shots at the Clone. When he saw the clone flinch, the Point Man rushed to get close enough that he could jump up and kick the trailing Replica. While the one was tumbling across the concrete, Oswalt's pistol came up and he fired the last of the magazine into the clone with the wounded shoulder, the last few .45 ACP slugs tumbling through his torso as he lost his footing and tumbled down the stairs. Tensing, Justin had to time his move perfectly, bounding over the corpse and diving for the barrel of the shotgun the last soldier had. Knocking the muzzle away, Owsalt reflexively winced at the booming report of the weapon going off so close to his head as a salvo of buckshot tore into the generator. Fighting to keep on his feet, the Point Man pinned the gun to the railing and whipped his pistol across the clone's covered face, met with the crunch of a broken nose and pained scream.
The clone brought his right hand up to his profusely bleeding face, and Oswalt pressed his advantage, putting his free hand on the shotgun's pistol grip and swinging his pistol again, this time bringing the weapon down on the inside of the Replica's left elbow. The blow was enough to get him to loosen his grip on the shotgun, and Justin wrenched the gun free, getting a grip and ramming the muzzle into the Replica's stomach before pulling the trigger. The point blank blast ripped a massive hole in the clone's midsection before he fell back. A flash of movement in the corner of his eyes caused Justin to holster his sidearm and use his now free right hand to work the pump of the SPAS-12 while he turned and leveled the Italian made scattergun at the recovering clone from the kick Oswalt had delivered. The clone was able to pick his rifle back up, but that was all he was able to do before the shotgun thundered again and the buckshot tore his arm off, sending the clone and his arm into opposite directions, both coming to a stop and not moving again.
Bounding back down the steps, Oswalt sprinted into the yard while gunfire continuously sounded from the far side, and slid behind a water pump, bullets pinging off the thick metal while he took a moment to reload his weapons. The Replica continued to lay down an unrelenting barrage of suppressing fire, causing Justin to press himself to the metal and wrack his brain to think of what he would do when he saw a small sphere bounce around the corner before coming to an abrupt halt in mid air when Zatanna shouted, "Nruter ot rednes!"
The explosive arced back towards the catwalk where the Replica were, the clones scattering when the grenade landed amongst them and exploded. Seizing the opportunity the magician had made, Oswalt sprinted to the next piece of equipment, shimmying his way around the corner and bringing his gun up, letting out a well-aimed burst that killed one, reducing the number of Replica to five.
His aim swung to the next one he could see, and Justin cut loose with a long burst while the Replica scampered away behind a set of cooling towers. "Eb depsarg yb cigam!" yelled Zatanna, blue energy coursing through the air and dipping behind the tower only to grow brighter and retract, the tendrils curled around the thrashing form of the Replica soldier. With his target hovering in the open, it was trivial for the Point Man to line up a shot and fire a five round burst that tore through armor and flesh, blood swirling around in the mystical vortex.
Zatanna's intervention caused the remaining four clones to change their tactics. One fired at Oswalt, forcing him to dip back into cover while the two more sent shots at the Magician but, to Justin's relief, she was fast to react and shout, "Reirrab ni tronf!" A curtain of her magic appeared in front of her, blocking the bullets from the clones. But she could do nothing about the last Replica, who dropped down and began to weave his way through the equipment yard to flank one or the other.
Not wanting to find out what the clones were planning, Oswalt leapt into action, clambering atop a box beside him and getting a new angle on the Replica firing at him, allowing the FEAR Point Man to get off a well aimed shot that struck the clone in the chest, causing him to stagger and fall. With an opening made, the Point Man wasted no time and rushed down around the water pump, slinging his rifle down and drawing the shotgun as he closed the gap.
The sudden appearance of the Replica around the corner took Justin by surprise, but he reacted quickly enough to drop down and slide under the burst that cut through the air and answered with a blast of his scattergun. Buckshot pellets tore into the Replica, sending blood and flesh flying as the clone's right arm was shredded while Justin worked the shotguns pump and fired again, the follow up shot splattering the Replica's skull like a melon.
While the clone fell, Oswalt sprang back to his feet and scooped up a grenade from the fallen Replica, pulling the pin to activate the advanced fuse and slung it up onto the catwalks. Sprinting away, the Point Man's boot hit the first step as the explosive rattled his ears, and he took the steps two at a time. Reaching the catwalk, Justin leveled the SPAS-12 at one Replica, but before he fired, a flash of movement in his peripheral caused him to twist and swing his weapon, whipping the pistol grip across the face of the Replica leaping at him from behind a cooling tower.
Stepping out of arms reach of the clone at his feet, Oswalt fired his shotgun, forcing the other one back into cover. But then a pair of strong arms wrapped around the Point Man's leg and yanked it out from under him, sending Justin to the metal grating with a grunt. The Point Man was barely able to regain his bearings before the Replica was atop him, the SPAS-12 between them as both struggled for it. Snarling behind his balaclava, Oswalt slid his hand down the length of the barrel and got leverage, twisting his torso as he let go of the gun and drove its muzzle into the grating while his left hand yanked his second USP free and jammed the threaded barrel into the side of the clone before firing a half dozen .45 ACP rounds.
Even as the Replica body fell limply atop him, Justin looked up and saw the other clone coming around with his rifle ready. The Point Man rolled hover and held up the corpse of the Replica he had just killed, feeling it twitch with each bullet that hit it. Leveling his own gun with his left hand and holding the body by the collar with his right, Oswalt traded shots with the Replica, emptying the rest of the magazine and watching his target topple over, bloody.
Tossing his tattered human shield aside, Oswalt turned just in time to hear Zatanna shout, "Epip tsrub!" The sound of shearing metal echoed through the yard, water burst out and Justin saw the last Replica get soaked and stumble against another pump under the powerful deluge. Before he could recover, the Magician cried out, "A dloc dniw swolb!"
A frigid blast of air rushed through the yard, chilling the Point Man to the bone, but it was even colder than that because he saw the water, and soaked Replica, freeze solid. With the yard quiet, Oswalt quickly reloaded his weapons, scavenging a few extra shells to top off the SPAS and slinging a bandolier of additional shells over his shoulder.
The gentle tapping of boots landing beside him had Oswalt turning to his companion. "Impressive," he said, though her response was a pout.
"That all?" she asked, arms crossed. When he shrugged, the Magician let out a sigh and strutted towards the door. "Shall we?"
Just as she reached out for the door, it burst open, revealing a hulking behemoth of a Replica stood there, covered in heavy armor with massive shoulder pauldrons and cradling a bulky weapon in his hands. Time seemed to slow for Oswalt as he leveled his shotgun and he fired a fraction of a second before the Replica did, his buckshot burying itself uselessly against the clone's heavy armor, but managing to spoil his foe's aim and send the 10mm steel spike past his own head.
The heavy trooper let out a deep grunt and turned to Zatanna, shoulder checking the smaller woman away as he leveled his weapon at her, but Oswalt cycled the action and fired again to the same effect. Only now he rushed forwards, wrapping an arm around Zatanna and dragging her to the wall while the Heavy lumbered forward, around the corner. The Point Man rushed at him, ducking and sliding as more of the fearsome steel spikes passed overhead, burying themselves into the equipment behind him, sparks showering down on the catwalks as Oswalt got behind the heavy and rammed his gun into the back of the armor's knee joint before pulling the trigger. A agonizing scream and burst of blood revealed the chink in the armor as the Replica fell and Justin got to his feet, racking the pump as he shoved the barrel inside the armored collar before firing again, blowing the Replica's head from his body.
Looking up from the corpse, he saw a wide eyed Zatanna staring down at the body. "Hey," he said, stepping around the deceased heavy trooper, "Hey," he repeated, finally getting her to look up, "You okay?" She nodded as her expression neutralized, "Then let's go."
Heading inside, the pair worked their way around the building, which was a housing for more large equipment, big water purifiers if Oswalt was to guess. Coming to a ladder that was the only way down, Justin pulled his rifle tight to his chest and clambered onto the rungs before sliding down. Descending past another catwalk, something coalesced from the darkness, a small girl wearing a familiar red dress.
Justin's eyes snapped open as he nearly leapt off the later and whipped around, gun up to be face to face with the bloody mouthed Paxton Fettel, who flashed a wicked grin before he faded right before the Point Man's eyes and a young girl's giggle seemed to emanate from the room's corner. Shaking his head, he looked back up at the Magician before she simply stepped off the ledge and plummeted down. "Etativel," she said, coming to a hovering stop just a foot above the ground and stepped off her hovering perch.
"You see anything?" he asked, trying to keep his voice even.
"No," she answered, before biting her lip, "But something was here."
Hands tensing around his XM8, Oswalt led the way, finally finding an exit and pushed the door open. The Point Man barely made it one step into the hallway before his vision flashed and he was somewhere else. Harsh fluorescent lights flickering overhead, streaks of scarlet on the otherwise pristine white tile walls that all trailed down to the thigh high pool of blood that he found himself wading through, towards the door at the far end, shadows dancing in the window. Drawing near, the blood shifted before him and out leapt a skeleton, poised to wrap itself around the Point Man when there was another flash.
"Where's Alma?" asked the raspy voice of Fettel.
The response was insistent, bordering on frantic, "I don't know what you're talking about!"
"Some secrets are buried deeper than others," replied Fettel with an evil hiss, "But I know where to dig."
"No, no! You've got the wrong guy!" pleaded the other voice.
"Hush now, Mr. Moody," instructed Fettel, "The time for talk is done."
The harsh white faded, and Justin found himself nearly against the door at the far end of the corridor and shook his head, turning to his companion to see her staring off into the distance. "Zatanna?" he asked, "Zatanna, did you… see that too?"
Blinking, the Magician looked at Oswalt, bewilderment splayed across her features, "Too? You saw that? The hallway, the blood, the voices?" Justin nodded, causing the woman to frown, "But that shouldn't…" she murmured before shaking her head, "Nevermind that, I'll figure it out later. Are we close?"
"Should be," replied the Point Man before he heard a distant, muffled sound that brought him up short, "Wait." As seconds passed, the sound grew louder, the chop of a helicopter's rotor, "Follow me."
Veering away from the door marked 'EXIT' and down a different path, the pair proceeded down a hallway past some offices. "What is it? A helicopter? Maybe its some of those other guys, what were they called, Delta Squad?"
"Delta Force," corrected the Point Man, "And no, it's not." The sound reached its crescendo and Justin paused to peer out the window and see a foreboding shape pass overhead, bulky but still proportionally longer than wide. "It's a goddamned Hind-D," realize Oswalt as he reflexively stepped back from the window and looked back at his companion. "Old Soviet surplus, has to be. Troop transport and gunship."
The Magician nodded and hunched over, reflexively making herself smaller. As it flew off, Justin watched, the Hind slowing to a hover and descending behind the next building. Moving on, the group exited the building and crossed the street, eyes peeled for any sign of more Replica armored vans. Just before Justin opened the door, the chop of the Hind picked up again and the lumbering gunship went airborne once more and turned, tearing off to the south. "They're evacing," realized Justin, "In a hurry, let's see if they left anything behind."
The building was empty, quiet, and relatively clean, free of the violence that seemed to permeate the entire facility as the pair swept through each room until they finally found something. "Point Man to Tomcat," radioed Justin, finger to his earpiece. "Replica forces seem to have withdrawn from the area, they got on board an old Hind and went somewhere fast. We've found what looks like a CP, we're going to take a look around."
"Good work Point Man. Don't take too long, the situation at Armacham is escalating and I'm sending a chopper to pick you two up," returned Betters. "Find what you can but be ready to go when the Heli gets there. Tomcat out."
Looking around, the CP had once been what passed for an executive suite at the water treatment plant. It was large, but sparse, most of the table space taken up by left behind equipment and ammunition arrayed haphazardly around the office. Zatanna ran her gloved hands over one of the weapons, "They must've left in a hurry," she mused quietly, "To leave all of this behind."
"Or they carried out the bigger, more valuable stuff," countered the Point Man as he went to the big desk at the center of the room and began rifling through it. Looking up, Justin watched the Magician wander aimlessly around the room. "You holding up okay, Zee?"
"Hm? Oh, yes, I'm fine," she answered dismissively.
Justin raised an eyebrow behind his mask, and he decided to do what he'd seen veteran officers do in Iraq. "What do you think that vision we saw was? Some sort of psionic attack?"
Looking up and at the Point Man, Zatanna's finger tapped her chin, "No, not an attack," she answered, her voice firmer. "You said that Armacham was experimenting with Psionics, that's what this Fettel guy is doing to control the soldiers, right?" she asked, and Justin nodded. "This wasn't that, this was more magical, an illusion spell, but… crude. A lesson," she said, straightening and squaring up to him. "Magic is the art of making the imagined into the real. But that illusion, it was harsh and rough. A good illusion spell should be so smooth that a skilled magic user can't sense it isn't real."
"Like the elephants at your show tonight?" he ventured, causing the woman's face to momentarily color with surprise.
The stage magician schooled her features quickly, "Right, you were there," she muttered lowly, casting a scrutinizing look at the Point Man before she continued. "Correct, they should be subtle, fit into reality, not replace it."
"Who's making them? Fettel?" questioned Oswalt.
Zatanna's brow furrowed for a moment, "Maybe, but I don't think so," she replied with a shake of her head. "I think it was that girl that we saw, the one in the red dress."
"Alma," said Justin, though he wasn't sure where it came from. When he saw one of Zatanna's eyebrows go up, the FEAR Operator elaborated. "That name, it was one that Fettel said, I think it's her name."
"Hmm… I see," returned the magician. "But I don't know what she is."
"You mean who?" asked Oswalt.
But Zatanna shook her head, "No, I mean what. She has magic, but is she Homo magi? I just don't know." Frustration was setting in on her face, but it was an improvement from the distant look she had earlier.
"Let's see if the Replica found anything about her, maybe there are some answers around here," suggested the Point Man.
In response, the Magician strode up to the desk and pressed a button on the phone with a blinking red light. "You have… one… new message," informed the automated answering machine voice. "First message from… Ian Hives," droned the voice before the voicemail played. "Hey Bill, it's Ian Hives, um, listen, just got your email and I wish I could give some more background on this but it's… strictly need to know. Hell, I don't even know what this is for. For now, just focus on the survey, the specific contaminants in the task summary. Maybe I can fill you in a little more once we've completed the survey." After giving the machine an incredulous look, Justin glanced up to see Zatanna face covered with disappointment while the automated voice came back on to announce, "End messages."
After a moment's thought, Oswalt crouched down and pressed the power button on the PC tower tucked under the desk, "C'mon, c'mon," he encouraged as the computer booted up, and with a press of a key the screen revealed there wasn't a password. It didn't take long for Justin to find the mentioned report and upload it to F.E.A.R. through a direct IP address link he'd had to memorize during his orientation with the organization.
A moment later, his earpiece crackled to life and Better's midwestern voice came through, "I'm getting your upload now Point Man. Let's see… interesting, it's a waste water analysis summary addressed to an Armacham committee. According to the abstract, there's some major contamination coming from upstream. I can't imagine why Armacham would be interested… unless they're responsible," supposed the coordinator. "A bit more here. It says contaminants seem to originate from the Auburn area. That place is practically deserted nowadays. Probably not a coincidence."
Justin noticed Zatanna was lost in thought, so he keyed his radio and replied, "Another thing to check. A name. Ian Hives, he's the guy at Armacham who commissioned the report, sounds like they're trying to bury it, but the Replica got into the file, it was last accessed… about a quarter of an hour ago."
"Nice work buddy, but I need you to get to Armacham HQ, the situation is getting worse," answered Betters, his voice stressed. "Ms. Zatara, are you willing to go with him?"
The Magician didn't hesitate. "I am, we'll find out what's happening."
"Good. Jin, any word on Jankowski?" the Coordinator asked.
"No," answered the lab technician. "I found some human remains, but impossible to ID without lab work."
"Can't be him," dismissed Betters. Justin frowned, even as his boss explained his reasoning. "His lifesigns are a little unusual, but he's definitely alive. He's got to be around there somewhere."
The sound of another approaching helicopter caused Justin and Zatanna to head for the back door to the office and out to an executive parking lot just as the familiar silhouette of a US Army UH-60 Black Hawk hovered overhead. Rotor wash relentlessly hammered them while the chopper landed, but the rotors kept turning at the same speed as the side door was yanked open and the crew chief beckoned them aboard. The FEAR Operator took Zatanna's hand to help her into the helicopter, not that she needed it, before the Crew Chief guided her to one of the flimsy fold out seats not occupied by other Delta Force Troopers and got a headset on her while Justin donned his own.
A quick thumbs up from the Chief had the bird lifting off once again, the pilot was quick to put the nose down and accelerate towards the city center. "Do these things always fly so fast?" asked the Magician over the intercom.
The Point Answered honestly, "Only other time I've been on one that has is when there was a war on."
Closing Notes: That about does it here, I'm trying to keep the pace pretty quick on this. FEAR is more firefights than story so a lot of those famous encounters are being trimmed down, sadly. I felt it was best to move along at a good pace and get towards the real meat and potatoes of the game at Armacham HQ, which starts next chapter. Leave a review if you have something to say, and I'll post the next installment just after Christmas. Until then...
Stay Frosty, Misfit Delta out.