Author's Notes: All properties are the rights of their respective owners, Monolith Productions, DC Comics, etc.
Well, I'm capping off 2024 with the next installment of this story, fighting both holiday season laziness and some flakiness from the website. Still, I hope everyone had a good 2024 and I want to wish everybody a Happy New Year as we head into 2025.
Slipspace149: I'll admit to not adhering super closely to the lore, I mean, the Point Man talks and has a name here. My philosophy is that you need to be able to recognize the characters even if there are slight deviations, so I'll explain why I made the choices I did. Him not being a Green Beret is part due to me wanting him to be a certain age, that mid twenties timeframe, and also because of his skill set. The Green Berets are guerilla fighters, asymetric warfare specialists, but the Point Man acts as a Door Kicker, and him just being through Ranger school with intent to be a Ranger more closely fits that role. I will admit to not knowing the particulars of making a Ranger, a failure of research on my part.
As for the changing of the G2A2 to the XM8, it was intentional. The SL8 was a purely civilian weapon, as you said, with no muzzle device, ability to only take a 10 round single stack magazine, and poor ergonomics that make it wholly unsuited as a combat rifle. To make it take that Double C drum would require extensive, and expensive, modifications, which didn't make much sense when I have every other firearm going by its real world name. So I made a substitution, one that I think makes sense, Armacham in the mid 2000s, equipping this force, clearly went for 'cool' when getting the gear (they gave them SPAS-12s for god's sake) and so the prospective new service rifle, which was designed to look like it came from Starship Troopers on orders from the US Army, made complete sense. The fact that the XM8 and SL8 are, effectively, cousins in a way, helped seal it for me.
Thanks for the comment, hopefully that was a satisfactory answer, if anyone has something to say, please let me know, leave a review. But first, you should probably read what I've got, so on with the show!
Zatanna: Synchronicity
Chapter 3: Infiltration
Zatanna watched the city pass beneath the speeding helicopter in a blur; Freeport was a far cry from Las Vegas, but the sprawling industrial city still showed signs of life late at night. Her sightseeing was interrupted by an announcement through the headset she was forced to wear, "Den Mother, what can you tell us about your recon team?" asked Betters, his voice tense.
"We were monitoring them on the security network when we lost contact. Now the entire system is offline," was the reply, from one of the army soldiers. The other two men in the helicopter shared a look at the news.
Tension entered Betters tone, "And what about the bad guys?"
The answer to that question was no less grim. "We know they hit the main building shortly before 5 pm. No estimate of enemy strength but we assume it is a sizable force."
"Hostages?" pressed the FEAR team coordinator.
"Undetermined," was the snap response, "But no demands, as far as I know."
"Dust Seven on final," interrupted the helicopter pilot, the machine only now starting to slow.
"Copy Dust Seven, do you have visual?" returned Den Mother as Zatanna turned to look out the windscreen and lay eyes on the towering Armacham Headquarters, proudly adorned with the company's name.
"Roger that," confirmed the pilot as the helicopter banked right, "Going dark."
Point Man and the other soldiers undid their seatbelts and stood up, weapons in hand while they moved to the doors and slung them open. Rushing air swirled about the cabin as one of the Delta troopers leaned out of the helicopter. "Man I live for this shit!"
"Keep your dick in your pants!" snapped the other while the helicopter turned the other way and began to circle the Armacham building.
The Point Man then came to her and signaled for her to get up, prompting the Homo magi to unfasten her harness and try to stand when the helicopter abruptly changed course. Before she even realized she was losing her footing, Zatanna found her arm held by the Point Man, keeping her upright while she grasped at a handhold loop and looked up at the man. Flashing him a thankful smile while the chopper began to slow for its final approach to a helipad on the Armacham HQ, the Magician steadied herself and took a deep breath so that she might be able to cast any spell.
"Let's fuck shit up!" shouted the excitable soldier as the Black Hawk came down and dashed towards the helipad, easing up into a hover just before all hell broke loose.
The windows of the building sparkled, and while Zatanna tried to lean out and get a better look, the Point Man pushed her back into the side of the helicopter as bullets ripped through the cabin, cutting down the pair of Delta Force soldiers instantly. A reflexive scream escaped her lips, some terror that still came back despite all the excitement she'd had so far, in stark contrast to the Point Man's practiced reaction. Zatanna's mind registered that he moved with the same incredible speed that he seemed to do with ease, returning fire with his rifle while he ushered her forwards, out of the helicopter and over the bodies of the Delta Force soldiers.
When her heeled boots landed on the helipad, Zatanna finally caught up to what was happening. As yet more bullets snapped past and pinged off the sides of the ascending helicopter, rotorwash blowing her hair out as she shouted, "Esolc eht srettush won!"
At once, all the windows closed, silencing the gunfire, giving the pair a temporary reprieve as the radio channel lit up. "LZ is hot! LZ is hot! Two men down!" called the chopper pilot.
"Den Mother!" snapped Betters, "Can you get them some back up?"
"Negative, I don't have any available elements," was the apologetic response.
"Terrific," grumbled the Point Man before the doors at the far end of the walkway leading to the helipad swung open to reveal a squad of Replica troopers in their same bulky, camouflaged armor. Zatanna winced at the report of her companion's rifle so close to her but couldn't tear her eyes away from the clones as they were torn apart by his stream of fire.
Her earpiece, which she had realized was keyed to listen into the Replica radio, emitted a deep and gruff, but utterly emotionless voice, "Two, on the helipad! By the crate!"
"Flanking!" answered another, identical voice. Zatanna's head whipped around, looking right and seeing nothing before her gaze shifted left and saw another squad starting to ascend the switchback stairs.
Realizing how exposed they were, the Magician reacted, shouting "Ekoms dna srorrim!" as the clones turned their guns on the pair. Puffs of smoke erupted from the helicopter pad, obscuring both groups from the other.
"We need to move," Barked the Point Man as he finished inserting a fresh magazine into his rifle. "To the building, go!" Without hesitation, Zatanna took off after the FEAR operator before the Replica perforated her smoke screen with series of speculative shots from that zipped by her head.
"Kconk meht ffo rieht teef!" shouted the Magician, gesturing in the direction of the Replica and was rewarded with a string of grunts over her earpiece, and she soon saw the results of her handiwork as the pair emerged from behind the dissipating smoke. The four clones were slumped against the wall but getting back to their feet.
The Point Man came to an abrupt halt and pulled something from his vest, "Frag out!" he warned before tossing the sphere in amongst the clones. Zatanna reached the doorway and looked just in time to see the grenade explode with enough force to send the bodies flying in every direction, all a bloody mess as they were torn apart by the hail of shrapnel emitted by the device. The Point Man had his rifle trained on the stairs, ready to engage any survivors, but that meant he didn't see the door behind and below him open, and Zatanna only saw the Replica rush out and take aim at her partner.
"Reirrab dnuora eht Tniop Nam!" shouted the Magician, and not a moment too soon as a purple-ish sphere flickered into existence around the man just as gunfire erupted and bullets pinged off the magic shield. Ripples pulsed across its surface as the Point Man turned around and saw the new arrivals and hastily backed up, jumping down off the walkway to the level below. "Gnikinl sgnir!" Zatanna cast, magic answering her call with thick steel rings appearing with flashes of smoke, ensnaring two of the four clones and throwing the group into disarray.
The Point Man chose that moment to strike, whipping around a corner with his shotgun ready and firing a salvo of buckshot that blooded its target. "SHIT!" shouted one of the Replica as the group scattered, save for one disciplined clone. He instead fired a wild burst from his rifle until he too was silenced by another blast of buckshot. One of the Replica, which had sought refuge behind an AC unit, stood, the FEAR operator reacted with incredible speed, swinging his shotgun around to fire at the ducking clone, the pellets tearing into the equipment and causing it to erupt in a shower of sparks.
Knowing there was one more man below, the Homo magi took a few steps forward and casting a familiar spell, "Etativel!" as she reached the edge. Looking below her, she saw the last Replica emerge from behind a pillar with a shotgun of his own leveled at the Point Man. "Annataz evid!" she shouted with a sudden flair of passionate fury, extending a heeled boot that was encased in a purple barrier as wisps of magical energy snatched her out of the sky and drove Zatanna down at her target. She impacted with considerable force, the magical screen shattering as the Replica shot back into the wall with a crushing impact, the clone's body falling to the floor in a heap.
Whipping around, Zatanna watched the Point Man rush forwards and vault over the AC unit and plant his boot in the chest of the last Replica, the impact sending he clone tumbling back into the half wall at the edge of the rooftop. Before the Replica could recover, or Zatanna could cast a spell, the shotgun thundered, blasting the head off the clone and sending blood splattering across the concrete.
"We're clear," announced the Point Man as he cycled his shotgun and went about reloading the weapon, stuffing shells into the bottom of it. He then nodded towards the door from which the last group of Replica had emerged, "This looks like our way in, ready?"
"You go first?" replied the Magician with a smirk, the banter serving to distract her from the firefight that had just concluded. She scrutinized the FEAR Operator, looking for some of that personality that she believed behind the featureless black balaclava and red glasses. All that the Point Man answered with was a curt nod as he went through the door and Zatanna followed him into the concrete maintenance corridors.
"Still no word on Jankowski," informed Betters over the radio, the Midwesterner sounding baffled. "It's like he just vanished. The weird thing that the bodies of the Delta team he was with are all accounted for." The Homo Magi wasn't as surprised by that report, but she could tell how shaken the FEAR team Coordinator was, the situation was something that Zatanna hadn't entirely figured out and she couldn't fathom how the FEAR team was handling the situation. Then Betters came back on the radio, bafflement replaced by shocking bewilderment. "What the hell? I'm picking up Jankowski in the general area around Armacham HQ. How the fuck did he get all the way there?"
That update caused the Point Man to come to an abrupt halt, rifle swinging from side to side as a chilly wind blew through the corridor and the lights flickered overhead. "There!" whispered Zatanna, seeing a shadow stretch out from around the next corner. Moving quickly, the pair rounded the corner, the Point Man's shoulder mounted light illuminating the murky blackness of some sort of machine space, an indecipherable mess of pipes, ducts, and wires going to a unit at the room's center.
"You don't even know who you are..." Taunted a voice from the far side of the room, causing the Point Man to whip around and the beam of his light to fall on a human figure. Zatanna saw the bulky vest like the one her companion wore, but could make out no other details before the figure faded to ash before her eyes.
Moving with the quickness that only he had, the Point Man darted forward, vaulting over a set of pipes and searching for any sign of the vanished figure while Zatanna carefully picked her way through the room, taking the long way around to rejoin him. When she did, the FEAR Operator spoke, his voice quiet and not entirely even. "Was he talking to you or me?"
Zatanna pondered the question, "I never met him," she finally said, watching for the man's reaction. "How long did you know him?"
"A week," was the immediate answer, "Maybe a little more."
"Then he didn't know you that well either, probably, right?" supposed Zatanna, but the Point Man was silent. "That specter," she finally said, tepidly making another suggestion, "It just may have taken the form of your friend."
"So who's messing with me?" questioned the Point Man, "Or were they messing with you?" With those questions voiced, but neither having any answers, they approached a door labeled with an exit sign and went back into the night.
"No good," announced the Point Man as he stepped back from another door which, even with a pair of holes in it from his shotgun, refused to open for the pair. "We need to find another way in."
Zatanna, hands on her hips, looked unimpressed, "Let me," she said. Justin stepped back, gesturing towards the door as the Magician waved her hands theatrically. "Rood nepo!"
Her purple wisps of magic ran into the door and dissipated to no effect, causing the woman to have a perplexed look across her pretty face. Striding up with intent, Zatanna yanked ineffectively on the door handle. "Rettahs eht kcol!" she commanded, only for Zatanna to watch her magic once again splash uselessly against the stubborn door before turning away, pouting. "This building, it's resisting," explained the Homo magi irritably.
Instead of dwelling on their combined failures, Oswalt nodded towards the other side of the roof, "Maybe the skylight."
"Maybe," agreed Zatanna, but the words came out in a huff as she strode to the opening, with the Point Man quick to join her at the edge. "Etativel!" called the Magician, causing both to lift into the air and descend through the opening, landing in the dark, barren office space, half the windows sporting bullet holes and blood stains painting some of the walls.
"Point Man, Ms. Zatarra, we just saw you two enter the building," informed Betters over the radio. "Unfortunately, the ATC network is offline and we can't track you both inside. I need you two to find the server hub and reset it so I can get into the system. It should give us a better idea of what's going on in there."
"Point Man copies all, Tomcat, out," replied Oswalt, turning to his companion. "Let's go, stay quiet. Recon is the job, keep your eyes peeled, Z, Replica are out there along with god knows what else. Anything doesn't seem right to you, and you say something."
"Got it," returned Zatanna seriously, "Because this building, something is wrong."
The way she said it caused the Point Man's skin to prick, "Like what?"
A pair of white gloved hands came together, fingers interlacing as the magician closed her eyes, "How best to explain this… Magic has two parts, two sides of an equation that must be balanced. One is the physical, in the plane of reality. Spells, incantations, or runes, something with magical power," she explained, "Follow?" he nodded, before going back to scan their surroundings, unable to shake the feeling he was being watched. "But that isn't all there is to it, there has to be potential. That's why you can say the spells I cast and nothing will happen, you don't have the same magical potential I do, to effect change on the world," she said, Oswalt finding it odd that she hedged her statement in that way, but didn't comment. "In addition to potential, there has to be intent, a will to change reality. Here, in this building? The air is filled with intent."
"Alma?" asked the Point Man, and after a brief moment, Zatanna answered with a tentative nod. "Then if that changes, you say something too." Now on alert, the Point Man set out, gliding past malfunctioning security gates and down corporate hallways until they entered through the side of a theater for presentations, a projector, though knocked askew, was still plastering a wall with the image of an Armacham satellite. When the picture suddenly jostled, Justin whipped around, rifle aimed at the ceiling and pointed at a ceiling tile that fell away and tumbled to the floor.
"Wasn't Alma," whispered Zatanna, causing Justin to raise an eyebrow, but he didn't challenge her on it. With a quick hand signal, the duo moved up the center aisle towards the door at the back of the room. Opening it and being met with a hallway where the opposite wall was lined with wavy glass windows that obscured the figure that ran by on the other side. "You see that?"
"Yeah," replied Oswalt, "Silhouette was off, though." Taking a cautious step forward and unsure of what awaited him, the Point Man swept his rifle down the hallway. Moving down the hall and rounding the corner, Justin saw that there was no sign of whatever they had seen. Waving back at Zatanna, the showwoman moved to him and they turned to continued down the hall when the lights flickered and there was a rattling above them. Both looked up, seeing more ceiling tiles shift and fall onto the floor to reveal the innards of the plenum, but all the Point Man could see were arcs of lighting flicking in the darkness before the door of a supply closet slammed shut.
Dashing forwards, the Oswalt had exchanged his rifle for his SPAS-12 when he kicked the door open and burst in to find a barren store room, uninteresting bar the flickering lights and fallen ceiling tile. Coming back out, he saw Zatanna approaching him before there was another speck of motion to his left and he swung around to see a gaunt man in a red jacket amble past another wall of wavy glass. "Stay out of my way," rasped the voice of Paxton Fettel, his specter disappearing between the flickers of fluorescent bulbs.
"That's the Psionic Commander?" asked Zatanna, to which the tense Oswalt nodded, shotgun still trained on where the specter had been a moment ago. "He must be close then, in the building at least. But how is he physically projecting?" she wondered as she took a step forward.
The Point Man immediately reached out to grab the woman by the shoulder, "Is that a trap?"
"Let's find out," replied the magician with a showgirl's devilish smile, and that was enough to get Justin to go forwards with shotgun ready. Going after Fettel's projection, Oswalt eased the next door open to be greeted with a well furnished conference room, leather tables around a polished wooden table, a massive screen on the wall displaying the Armacham company logo, but a trio of bodies left the room a bloody mess, one sprawled on the table with half its head missing, one in a chair that was perforated with buckshot, a third in a corner, slumped in a pool of its own blood. All three men were dressed in button down shirts and ties with suit trousers, and three matching jackets that were draped over various chairs. Before the one in the chair was a laptop with a few documents displayed on it. "Watch my back, Z, going to get an upload going."
Repeating the same process as before, Oswalt was able to get a link between the FEAR server and the laptop. "Data's uploading now," informed Betters as the progress bar filled, "There's a reference to something called 'Icarus.' Says here that it was started in 1973. Something about health issues related to microgravity. Loss of muscle mass, bone density, shit like that. It looks like the Icarus program was shut down in favor of something called 'Perseus,' which, from what I can tell, is funded by the DoD. I'm guessing that's where Fettel and his soldiers came from."
"Science, not magic, I'm not sure how it's related, if it is at all," murmured Zatanna as she averted her eyes from the corpses. Not wanting to spend more time in the conference room, Justin went to the other door and threw it open, with the first thing he saw in the dimly lit hallway being the body of a man in soft body armor bearing the label of 'ATC Security' with his SMG still clutched in his dead hands.
Grimacing behind his facemask, the Point Man took up his customary position in front and led the Magician down the hall, passing another meeting room when the glass window was shattered and the blinds tossed aside by the body that ragdolled across the floor. Justin heard Zatanna gasp behind him as he rushed forward and flicked his light on just as something dashed across the hall, rolling into another room as the Point Man tried to bring his shotgun to bear, but couldn't line up a shot before the figure disappeared. "The fuck?" whispered Oswalt as he kept his eyes fixed on the doorway, finger pulling the trigger all the way back to the wall just waiting for whatever he'd seen to reappear. After a moment, he took a few cautious steps forward and looked where the unknown had gone, only to find another empty room with a missing ceiling tile.
Turning around, Justin pointed up at the ceiling and got a curt nod back from Zatanna before the two continued through the darkened corridors until they reached a central lobby. Eyes kept up on the second level banister that overlooked the lobby, the Point Man didn't see any movement as he gingerly advanced with Zatanna close behind. The sudden clatter of the metal security gate falling behind them caused both to whip around and see their nearest escape blocked. "Nepo etag," cast the Magician, but her magic had no effect on the stubborn steel.
"Forward then," whispered Justin, turning back to the lobby, eyes narrowing behind his glasses, "Stick to the edges, use the columns for cover."
"You think someone's there?" returned the Showgirl.
"I think this is a good spot for an ambush," was Oswalt's answer, "Stay close." Picking their way around the room until they reached the staircase, the pair moved with short, light steps, eyes darting to each darkened corner until they reached the landing. Taking a deep breath and leveling his shotgun, the Point Man advanced past a row of offices and noticed one's door was ajar. Easing it open with the muzzle of his SPAS-12, Oswalt's light panned across the room and he noticed that a ceiling tile was missing before something black was caught in the edge of the beam. "What the…" exclaimed the Point Man as he saw a glimpse of a man in a black tactical suit clinging to the walls in the corner of the room.
With superhuman reflexes, the Point Man brought his shotgun to bear, cutting loose with a blast of buckshot, but the ambushing assassin was quick to act as well, springing off the wall and launching himself at Oswalt, feet first. Grunting from the impact, Justin was knocked back off his feet, shotgun slipping from his fingers and falling to the floor as he slammed into the railing.
While Justin was recovering from having the wind knocked out of him, he heard Zatanna let out a surprised scream that caused his attacker to turn towards the woman. The Replica Assassin pulled out a baton, the end sparking with electricity before he went at Zatanna. Despite her surprise, the woman regained her wits quickly and extended a gloved hand before shouting, "Thgiarts cigam!"
A purple bolt of magical energy leapt out of the woman's hand and whizzed by the Replica as it juked to one side, drawing its arm back, the baton crackling in its hand. Drawing his USP, the Point Man cut loose with rapid shots, sending big .45 ACP slugs at the assailant as it charged Zatanna, his first two shots sailing wide and ripping chunks out of the wall but the third found its mark, tearing through the baton wielding arm. Letting out a deep, guttural cry, the Replica turned to run as the Point Man got to his feet; the FEAR operator slid forwards, trying to trip the assassin, but the clone gracefully dove over him and rolled, the air crackling with electricity before the assassin vanished.
"Lepsid gnikaolc cigam!" ordered Zatanna, throwing her hands out and causing a gust of wind to tear through the interior space, the Point Man to concerned with reclaiming his shotgun to care. "Damn, not magic then," cursed the Magician as Oswalt cycled the pump and leveled the gun.
Light on, the Point Man cast his gaze to the tile floor and the blood trail that led further down the landing. "I'll go first, watch my back. There will be more." SPAS-12 ready, Oswalt advanced with caution, keeping his eyes sweeping while the bright beam of his flashlight made the darker corners appear pitch black. With more closed offices on his left and the railing on his right, the Point Man pushed straight ahead, a few steps ahead of Zatanna, and his gun facing forward, where he expected the next Replica to appear.
That expectation was shattered as quickly as the glass window of the office the Point Man had just passed. Whipping around, time slowed as Justin saw Zatanna recoil back, hat falling from her head while her hands covered her face to protect herself from shards of glass. "Dleihs em!" yelped the Magician, a purple sphere flickering into existence around her just as the Assassin's electric baton crashed into it, causing the purple field to ripple.
Oswalt took a step to the side, changing the angle of his shot before he triggered the scattergun, the weapon thundering in the tight space as the shot slammed into the Assassin, blood splattering across the walls and magical barrier behind him. Working the pump action, Justin saw the bloodied Assassin begin to flicker, but a second twelve gauge round sent his body tumbling back against the wall.
The purple bubble flickered away beside him and Zatanna shouted, "Yreppils roolf!" Turning back, Oswalt caught sight of another Replica Assassin darting towards them only for him to suddenly lose his footing and slide towards the pair. Acting fast, Justin jumped up and spun, delivering a hasty roundhouse kick to the clone's jaw that sent his head spinning and his whole body to the floor, where he recovered quickly by rolling to the side and using the momentum of the Point Man's kick. It was a sound martial arts move, one that was swiftly negated by the shotgun in Oswalt's hands.
Head popping like a melon, the Assassin fell in a heap, blood and dust from the wall filling the air as the Point Man turned back and saw the faintest shimmer in the air. He fired the freshly cocked SPAS-12 again, a few of his pellets found their mark, the shimmer in the air returned for a moment as electricity sparked. "Depsarg yb cigam!" announced the Magician as more purple magic materialized around her and raced along the floor before lashing out and snatching up the cloaked Replica, hoisting him into the air as he thrashed against the mystical bindings, but could do nothing about Oswalt lining him up in his shotgun's sights. After the thunderous report of the SPAS-12 had finished echoing through the lobby, the magic faded, letting the lifeless corpse fall to the floor.
Working the pump on the shotgun, the clattering of the spent shell was the only noise left in the lobby as the pair waited for any more of the Assassins to appear, but after a few long, tense moments, none did. "You think that's all of them?" asked Zatanna, still breathing heavily.
Oswalt looked back to see that she was staring right at him, "Just keep your eyes open," he told her, "And let's clear every room." She nodded before he set off, checking every office, all of which belonged to some high level people, vice presidents of something or other, at least that's what all the name plates said. It seemed that seniority at ATC meant you got an office with a view of the satellite model hanging from the ceiling.
After clearing the last one, Oswalt saw the desk phone was blinking and, after giving a look at Zatanna, he played the contents of the answering machine. "You have… three… new messages," informed the gadget, "First message from… Chuck Habegger." The machine's feminine tones were replaced with that of a man who sounded like he'd smoked a pack a day for a few decades at least. "It's Chuck Habegger. I've analyzed the readings and I'm recommending we suspend Perseus until we can figure out what's causing the synchronization. The patterns are identical to what we saw last time, but obviously the consequences would be a helluva lot worse."
"Synchronization?" asked Zatanna, but the Point Man could only shrug.
"Next message from… Chuck Habegger," informed the phone dutifully. "I got your message. Maybe you've forgotten that when this happened before, Fettel was only a child. And the fallout of that fuckup was that Origin had to be permanently shut down. This time we're talking about a highly trained military commander with a telepathic link to hundreds of soldiers that don't think for themselves. If you're worried about being behind schedule now, imagine what'll happen if we end up with a full scale revolt."
"Origin…" murmured the Point Man, another name that only had question marks next to it.
Unbothered by their worries, the machine droned on. "Next message from… Marshall Disler." Disler's voice was higher pitched with a hint of upper-class New England in his accent. "Hi, it's Marshall. I just got off the phone with Chuck Habegger. I'm really worried about his findings. He said he talked to you about suspending the program temporarily and I've got to agree. If there's even the slightest chance of a Synchronicity Event, we've got to take it seriously. I'm going to head over to the Perseus Compound and check things out myself. Why don't you give me a call on my cell and let's discuss this."
"Is that a magical term," began Oswalt, turning to Zatanna, "Synchronicity Event?"
"If it is, I've never heard of it," answered the Magician, tapping a gloved finger against her chin. "I wonder if they're using that term to refer to something magical? But without knowing what a 'synchronicity event' is, I couldn't say."
"I couldn't either, but that still leaves a question. Is the synchronization what happened already or is it yet to occur?" asked Justin.
As she followed the Point Man through yet another dimly lit hallway, Zatanna Zatara had to fight to keep her mind focused on the bland offices and gruesome carnage that sometimes filled them despite the latter being something to which she still wasn't accustomed. At least she no longer felt the urge to wretch at the sight of each one, all of which seemed to have been killed in some unique way. But she had to keep her eyes going from one darkened corner to the next, occasionally checking over her shoulder in case any of those electro-ninja clones appeared again.
But the questions in her mind refused to be quelled without answers, but they were singular words, names as often as not. Fettel, Perseus, Alma, Icarus, all were magic related, Zatanna was sure of that, experimenting with magic and those who could wield, because what else could Fettel and Alma be but Homo Magi?
As her eyes shifted from one side to the other, Zatanna's curiosity about the Point Man came back to the forefront.
"Damn," he suddenly swore, coming to a stop with his weapon trained on a shut gate, the sign beside it reading 'Server Room.' The Point Man then turned back, "We'll have to find another way."
Following his lead, Zatanna kept her eyes open as they moved into a section of the floor that seemed to have escaped the Replica. The lights still worked, mostly, and there weren't as many bullet holes in the walls, but there was still a body pinned under another security gate, a blood trail behind the corpse leading back along the blocked off hallway. The pair diverted down a side passage that was still open, through a section that looked to have been hastily deserted, papers scattered and chairs toppled over in what was an understandable rush to escape.
The Point Man suddenly whipped over, his gun snapping to point at a window at the far side of the room. "Movement, in the print room," he whispered, rifle steady on the glass as he took a few measured steps forward. Zatanna's eyes narrowed on the same window as she tensed and took a deep breath in preparation to cast a spell as they neared the printing room.
A figure suddenly appeared, silhouetted in the window, with his hands in the air, "Don't shoot!" Zatanna got a better look at the man, mangy red hair on his head, a distinct five o'clock shadow coating his multiple chins, the layers of fat jostling as he spoke. "My name is Norton Mapes. I'm an engineer."
Mapes quaked as his eyes flitted between Zatanna's chest and the Point Man's rifle, "A civilian," realized the FEAR operator, rifle slowly lowering.
The engineer let out a deep breath, as he stood to his full height, though he was still shorter than Zatanna and probably weighed three times as much, with his substantial girth straining the maroon flower print Hawaiian shirt he wore. The shirt, like his fingers, was coated in a thin layer of dust from cheese snacks, and was tucked into jeans held up by a belt with an obnoxiously large belt buckle that bore the letters 'R T F M.' "Who are you people?" he asked.
"The good guys," answered the Point Man dryly, his finger, Zatanna noted, not far from the rifle's trigger.
When it seemed that was all her enigmatic partner was going to offer, Zatanna cleared her throat to introduce herself when Mapes cut her off. "I know who you are, honey," he said, giving her the sort of look she usually got from audience members that had gotten lost on the way to a strip club.
Hands on her hips, the Magician was about to retort when the Point Man interjected. "Are you alright," he asked, his usually even voice strained as he forced out an addendum, "Sir?"
"Oh sure, I'm having a helluva time," answered Mapes, gaze losing focus.
"Wait, you said you were an engineer?" asked Zatanna, to which the ginger nodded, "Maybe you can help us? We need to get into the network."
The request caused the heavyset man to huff, "What am I? An I.S. lackey?" Zatanna frowned, but the man seemed to rethink his refusal, "I'll tell you what," he said, crossing his arms, "You two disable the local security network and I'll see what I can do about the server."
"Point Man to Tomcat," said the FEAR operator, finger to his earpiece, "Be advised, we've encountered a survivor on the west side of the 34th floor. An engineer, Norton Mapes. Moving to disable local security network to enable Mapes to grant us access to the building network. How copy?"
The commlink in Zatanna's ear gave her the reply. "Understood, but I could disable the security system remotely once I've been granted access."
A pair of red tinted glasses looked at the engineer, "If you grant us access to the building network, our tech specialist can disable the security system remotely."
"No he can't," retorted Mapes with an exasperated shake of his head, "It's a sperate system, back thataway." A thumb was thrown back over Mapes own shoulder before the hand reached down to snatch a bag of 'Cheesy Poos' from the desk and pull it open while the other went to the knob of the nearby door and threw it open.
The Point Man went in first, towering over the Engineer. "Why do you want us to bring down the security system?" asked the soldier.
"Never mind why," replied Mapes, taking a handful of snacks from the bag and stuffing them into his mouth. "You want my help, that's the price," he said between chews, "I'll just wait here."
"Zee, let's move," intoned the FEAR Operator, leading the way past the Armacham Engineer with Zatanna following him, feeling the gaze of the ginger on her ass the whole way. Once around the corner, the Magician let out a breath and forced herself to focus, even if the offices were relatively intact.
Still, the encounter with Mapes had raised yet more questions in the mind of the Homo Magi, but these weren't questions about what had happened at ATC, but rather what plans were still in motion. Mapes clearly had an agenda, but what was it? And whose was it? But there was no doubt that she didn't trust him, and Zatanna mentally promised to keep an eye on the man. Of course, he wasn't the only one she was curious about, her eyes flicking back to the Point Man as he swept through another set of cubicles, rifle swinging from side to side, idly wondering what he looked like under his mask.
She was so lost in thought that Zatanna nearly ploughed straight into his back when he came to an abrupt halt. "What is it?" whispered the Magician, eyes looking up into every corner for any sight of those cloaking ninjas that had jumped them earlier.
But the man in front of her didn't point up, but down at the desk they were alongside, a desk awash with files, energy drink cans, men's magazines, and bags upon bags of 'Cheezee-Pooz!' "Check it out, I'll cover you," intoned the Point Man, voice equally low.
Nodding, and knowing what sorts of things they were looking for, Zatanna began flipping open files and rifling through the papers, which mostly amounted to stacks of technical documents. "Looks like he help set up a lot of computer equipment, doesn't say where, doesn't say why he's so interested in the security system here."
"Probably looked for how to get into the system to do what he wants," replied the Point Man before his head nodded towards the desk phone, "The message, what is it?"
Zatanna pressed the button next to the blinking light and the familiar voice of the answering machine emanated from the phone. "You have… one… new message. First message from… Ian Hives," reported the machine before it switched to the recording. "Norton, it's Ian Hives, look, uh, Alice Wade stopped by my office this morning. I feel a little awkward saying this, but I really need you to tone down the sexual innuendo around her. It's not that I personally give a rat's ass but the last thing we need right now is a sexual harassment case drawing unwanted attention to the task force. It's supposed to be a secret, after all. Thanks, Norton." The Magician blinked as she stared down at the phone, arms crossed. "End messages."
"Lovely," drawled Zatanna, taking a subconscious step away.
"A task force," murmured the Point Man, and Zatanna looked at him before realizing what he was on about. "Ian Hives, Alice Wade, Norton Mapes, all on a secret task force. And one of them is still here. That's not a coincidence."
"Probably not," agreed the Homo magi, but didn't know what else to add. "Maybe we can ask him after we finish his errand."
Point Man answered by taking a decisive step forward and around the corner to another corridor, Zatanna noticing he was following the signs for the 'Security Station.' As they drew closer, Zatanna's earpiece came alive with the gruff, garbled voices of the Replica troopers. "This is Bravo 12, we're in position."
"Copy Bravo 12, check in at 10 minute intervals," came the reply from an eerily identical voice.
"Will do, Bravo 12 out," replied the first, but it was impossible to truly tell as the Point Man slowed his pace, pressing himself against the wall. Reaching the edge, Zatanna saw him turn and nod to her, a signal she returned as she readied herself.
The Point Man whipped out and leveled his assault rifle, cutting loose with a long burst, Zatanna taking the opportunity to sprint across the gap, looking over her shoulder to see the pair of Replica troopers that lay sprawled out in puddles of blood. Reaching the far side and scampering down the stairs, the Magician peered around the corner as she heard a Replica shout, "Check in!"
The Homo Magi saw a door open at the far side of the room just before a grenade arced through the air and bounced through the doorway. "Rood esolc!" she shouted, watching the door slam shut and trap the clones with the Point Man's grenade. There was a muffled explosion that blew the door off its hinges to reveal the blood splattered walls and the arm and leg that lay in the doorway.
Crossing the room, Zatanna entered the door and heard heavy footfalls around the corner. She saw the muzzle of a gun come around the corner and readied her spell, unleashing it as soon as the Replica came around, "Erif ssik!" A burst of flames engulfed the Replica as he flailed about, trying to extinguish the fire that was quickly consuming him.
The Point Man rushed in, firing another burst from his rifle that snuffed out the life of the clone if not the fire, the dead Replica falling to slump against a cabinet. "Command," grunted a panicked Replica, "We've got hostile contacts and have taken casualties!"
"I'll cover you, get over there," instructed the Point man before he sprayed his rifle down the hallway.
Seeing the narrow corridor ahead of her and the wall with large window cutout on the other side, Zatanna focused on the other side and chanted, "Tropelet ni tnorf!" The simple spell caused her to be whisked forwards to the other side of the wall, the Magician ducking down as soon as she regained her bearings. Peering over the wall, she saw the shattered windows and bullet ridden walls in desk of the office tucked in the corner of the corridor's bend. Dust and papers fluttered through the air, obscuring the Replica trooper until Zatanna's eyes caught a bit of movement, her mind causing her to duck just before a long burst of gunfire ripped through the hall. "Ssalg sdrahs llif eht moor!"
A wind blew through the hallway, a wind which soon carried the screams of the Replica back. Zatanna looked out to see the man scrambling over the desk as he was eviscerated by the glass from the shattered windows, his uniform torn and bloodied before there was a single staccato rifle report that ended the screams. The magician looked to see the Point Man reloading his rifle and felt his gaze on her through his red tinted glasses before he took the lead once again. "Clear!" he called out, gun lowering.
"Dniw pots!" commanded Zatanna, the air stilling and glass falling to the carpet like raindrops, ones that were still razor sharp, anyways. She joined the Point Man in a security booth, TV screens showing camera feeds of various corridors and rooms that the Magician recognized and some she did not, at least on the screens that weren't filled with static. Looking at her partner, she saw the man busy helping himself to the supplies and ammunition from the racks around the room and busied herself looking for the security reset. "Aha!" exclaimed Zatanna, pushing some papers aside to reveal a big red button that she summarily pressed.
"Tomcat to Point Man, that did it," reported Betters a moment later. The FEAR Team Leader then ordered "Now to reset the server. Go and get Mapes to help with that."
"There might be a problem with that," intoned the Point Man, who was suddenly at Zatanna's side and peering over her shoulder. The Magician followed his gaze down to a screen that showed the ginger engineer waddling away from his hiding spot, stopping only to tauntingly turn and give the camera the middle finger. "Looks like we're on our own."
"Okay then. Find that server and reboot it. Tomcat out," said Betters, leaving the pair to retrace their steps.
With his freshly reloaded XM8 Rifle at the ready, the Point Man swept back through the office where Mapes had been hiding, but there was no sign of Mapes now. Moving quickly in an effort to catch up, Oswalt moved out the door to get towards the Server Room when his earpiece crackled and the deep voice of a Replica clone filled his ear. "Search this area! The engineer was last spotted here and Bravo 12's gone dark."
Instantly, the FEAR operative scampered for the shadows, ducking into a corner and behind a column as he trained his gun on the dim corridor and waited. Seconds passed, with not a single Replica in sight, and Justin pulled back and looked over his shoulder to see Zatanna's top hat adorned head peeking out from the same window Mapes had appeared in not twenty minutes prior.
Extending a hand, Oswalt cautioned the Magician to stay put before slipping out from behind the pillar and clambered atop a few cabinets and into an open cavity in the wall. Turning on his light, Justin pulled himself into the air vent and tightened the sling of his rifle, pulling the XM8 close to his chest and drawing a USP, keeping the pistol at the ready as he crept forwards. "I'll hold back," informed one clone.
"Roger, sweeping," responded another. Nearing a grille, the Point Man could see the beams of flashlights below and peered through the slats to see a pair of Replica in the room below, approaching the office where Zatanna ducked behind the wall, visible from his high vantage. Laying on his side, Oswalt reached back for his second USP and took a breath before springing the trap.
With a sold knock, Justin dislodged the grille and caused it to tumble to the ground, prompting the pair of Replica to whip around just as he leveled his handguns and opened up. A hail of .45 ACP bullets rained down on the clones as they sprayed haphazardly back, caught out in the open as the Point Man found his mark. Blood sprayed against the wall as the pair staggered under multiple hits and Oswalt kept firing the guns sequentially, emptying half of their magazines into the two clones before they both finally fell.
"Shit!" snapped an unseen Replica, "We've got enemy movement near the server hub in admin!"
"Roger, sending reinforcements!" answered another clone while Oswalt holstered his pistols, crawled past the opening ,and swung his legs out before falling to the floor. As soon as his boots hit the ground, he dropped down and rolled behind a chair as bullets cut through the air above him. The FEAR operative came up with his rifle ready, spraying a long burst that shattered glass and cut down the first Replica he saw, a second ducking away behind a corner.
Unfortunately for the clone, a rack containing a fire extinguisher hung on the wall behind him, a fact that didn't go unnoticed by the Magician as she appeared at Justin's side. "Rehsiugnitxe tsrub!" she shouted, and the vessel obeyed her command, erupting like a hand grenade, just as loud and filling the hallway with a thick white cloud.
Seizing the opportunity, Oswalt rushed forward, ploughing into the smoke and hitting the ground, sliding into the Replica and ripping the clone's legs out. While the trooper fell to the floor, the Point Man sprang up and whipped around, bringing his rifle around and putting a burst into the clone's chest.
Spinning around, Justin's eyes swept the hallway and saw nothing else of note except the sign labeled 'Server Room' and moved to it. Kicking the door open and seeing it deserted, he yelled, "Clear! Zee, to me!"
While the Magician caught up, Oswalt spied a big red 'Reset' switch hanging off one of the server racks and flipped it. "Okay, I'm showing that the network has been rebooted. Good work," came the voice of Betters over the radio, "It'll take a minute for the system to come back online."
Oswalt turned around to face Zatanna when he caught movement in his peripheral and turned to see the stairwell door swing open, revealing a Replica Squad on the other side. The Point Man dove for a pillar as bullets ripped through the air, shattering the glass windows of the server room, one of the stacks catching rounds of 5.56 and sparking wildly while Justin crawled for solid cover. The chatter of automatic gunfire filled the tight confines of the corridor, Oswalt gritting his teeth as he weathered the storm of glass shards and sheetrock that rained down on him.
"Mrasid!" called Zatanna from back up the hall, the gunfire stopping and replaced by the sound of weapons clattering to the floor. The Point Man whipped around the corner and shouldered his rifle, settling his sights on one clone that was drawing a pistol and cutting loose with a burst that ripped open his chest, blood splattering across the wall as he spun to he tile floor. Two of the other soldiers dashed away, one tucking himself behind a pillar and the other toppling cabinet to serve as ad hoc cover. The fourth Replica trooper turned on Zatanna, reaching out for the Magician as she said, "Gninthgril Dor!"
An electrical panel on the wall burst open, lighting arching out to surround Zatanna in a brilliant display that was for more than looks as the Replica reached out for her and was hit by thousands of volts. As soon as the Showwoman had backed away, Oswalt put a single shot through the clone's head and he dropped to the floor, lightning still flickering across his charred uniform. Now faced with the last two, the FEAR operative advanced, firing short bursts to keep the pair pinned, rifle flicking from one side of the hall to the other, bullets tearing off pieces of sheetrock as they struck.
"Cigam Rallip!" cast Zatanna, the ground behind the pillar began to glow before erupting in a beam of purple light that sent the Replica flying up to the ceiling, smashing him into it with enough force to dislodge the tiles and kept him pinned there. The Point Man emptied the rest of the magazine into it, the blood caught in the purple beam of magic and splattered across the walls and ceiling.
With his rifle empty, Justin let it drop as he rushed the other Replica as the clone popped up from behind the cabinet. The Point Man dropped down and slid into the cabinet, kicking it with all the strength he could muster and sending it back into the Replica, knocking him off his feet while Oswalt popped up, drawing a USP and unloading the pistol into the clone.
A thunk behind him caused the Point Man to spin around and see the bloody corpse of the Replica that had been floating slam into the floor. Relaxing and reloading the USP, Justin looked to the smirking Zatanna and nodded at her, "Thanks for the assist."
"You're very welcome," replied the Magician, casually stepping up onto the toppled cabinet and strutting by him. "What now?"
The answer came quickly. "This is Jin, we're on the roof, heading inside now," informed the FEAR Team technical expert.
"RV with Point Man and Zatanna in the north elevator lobby on the 41st floor, that's the last known location of the Delta team," informed Betters.
Keying his radio, the Point Man answered, "Copy, Point Man proceeding to rendezvous."
Zatanna was already through the doorway and up the first few steps, the Point Man taking them two at a time to pass her, after getting an eyeful of her fishnets, while Betters resumed speaking. "Looks like that Mapes guy was right about the network being on a separate system. I don't have server access yet but I can see the security feeds, the ones that are still operational anyways."
Reaching the 41st floor and gently easing the door open, the Point Man's eyes swept across the east lobby, dimly lit and deserted but for the pair of bodies lying on the floor dressed in the tattered remains of business attire, surrounded by crimson splatters. The room was still and cold, but nothing looked amiss to Justin, "Ready, Zee?"
The woman nodded, expression serious, and Oswalt swept inside, advancing into the room with the woman close behind when the lights flickered and his radio crackled. Head whipping around, the Point Man looked for an ambush, but the only figure he saw was a hauntingly familiar silhouette in the window overlooking the lobby, the figure of a small girl in a dress that vanished when the lights came back to their earlier dimness.
"I… that was…" panted Zatanna, the woman pressing her back to his and clearly tense.
"Alma," answered Justin, hand flexing on the foreend of his rifle, "She's watching." Then, with hairs standing on end, he took a step forward and lead Zatanna across the floor. Beyond the finished lobby was a section under construction, the tools and materials as abandoned as the cubicles and corridors.
"You've seen her," rasped the voice of Fettel, catching Oswalt offguard as he came to an abrupt halt, activating his flashlight to look for the psychic, "Haven't you?" A long shadow was dragged across the wall up ahead, and Justin darted up, whipping his rifle around the corner to find and abandoned table saw at the center of the poorly lit room, the specks of red on the serrated teeth not going unnoticed. "She is the Original."
"I just picked up Fettel's transmitter!" exclaimed Betters over the comm. "He's somewhere ahead of you, be careful."
"No shit," muttered Justin under his breaths, which were shallow and rapid. "Fuck it," he decided, slinging his rifle back and readying the SPAS-12, racking the slide half back to ensure a 12 gauge shell was chambered and ready.
A sudden whir from an electric motor caused Oswalt to whip around at the furiously spinning circular saw, the noise only lasting a second before the room was deathly quiet once again, but for a slow, rhythmic dripping. Blood was falling from the saw table, slowly starting to pool on the stack of wood below when Fettel's voice carried through the unfinished space.
"I was made from her. And I was born from her," he said, Oswalt turning to face the source and setting off. "We are separate, but we are one."
The same long shadow shifted along the wall up ahead, and the Point Man closed in, rounding the next corner and looking through the unfinished shell space just as his flashlight flickered and went out, casting the whole space into almost pitch blackness.
A chilled breeze carried through the shell space that cut through the Point Man's armor, and he shuddered while trying to keep the SPAS-12 steady.
"Over there," whispered the Magician in low tones, her gloved hand gently pressed against his chin to turn his head to the right, where he saw the dim orange light of flames radiate from the next hall. Still not convinced, the Point Man shuffled his feet, moving to his right but still facing the direction he was sure Fettel was, or had been, while working his way around the room.
Even with the flames crackling nearby, the air kept its unnatural chill, and while the Point Man's eyes narrowed, trying to pick out any shapes in the darkness, Zatanna approached the door and pulled it open. Oswalt turned and moved to enter the room, even with flames burning along the edges it seemed the only way forward.
Something leapt out of the smoke, floating unnaturally as it closed with the Point Man, letting out the wail of a banshee and pulling back an elongated arm that sported lengthy, wispy claws. "Thgiarts Cigam!" shouted Zatanna, a purple magic dart zipping past the Point Mans shoulder and slamming into the ghost, causing it to dissipate into the smoke.
Stepping into the room, Oswalt heard a girlish whimper from a corner and turned to see the familiar red dress wearing girl before she was consumed by the growing flames and he was forced to look elsewhere. Coughing and crouching down under the acrid fumes, Justin lead the way to a set of double doors on the far side, bright white light visible through the wavy glass. A flash of motion caused him to pivot on his heel and trigger his weapon, unleashing a burst of buckshot that tore through the next materialization that came at him, causing it to fade away while he worked the pump action.
The phantom's cry was replaced with the wail of a child, distracting Oswalt before another ghost came at him, only to be blasted by the shotgun before Justin lowered his shoulder and slammed into the door, even as he saw the profile of a woman with long, greasy hair on the other side.
Once out, Justin looked for the figure, but saw nothing except unfinished walls, stacks of plywood, and bundles of unconnected wiring in the room before him. Risking a glance back, he saw there was no sign of the fire and smoke the pair had just waded through, and had to shake his head in an effort to clear his mind when he heard Fettel's voice again.
"She is a prisoner. Floating in darkness. Like the unborn in the womb," rambled Fettel, his cadence irregular, seemingly timed with the flickering of the lights. "Soon I will find her. Soon I will set her free."
The lights came back up, the radio static clearing and replaced by an irate Team Leader. "Shit, I lost him again," cursed Betters, "Fuck."
Taking a long, deep breath, the Point Man advanced again, the air warm and stale as they left the renovation site and returned to the finished part of the floor. Feeling tile under his boots once again, the Point Man inadvertently relaxed before turning the corner and tensing once more, shotgun trained on the smear of blood that stretched across the floor and around the next corner.
Feeling a lump form in his stomach, Justin eased forward and turned the corner to see the north elevator lobby. "Good god," gasped Zatanna, Oswalt grimacing as he mentally agreed with her reaction to the scene before them. Most apparent was the thin coat of blood that covered most of the floor and some of the walls, punctuated by the severed limbs strewn haphazardly about, some of which, Justin saw, had the flesh partially rended from them, leaving bone exposed. Looking up at the walls, he saw streaks of blood trailing down them, as if the bodies had been thrown up against them and dragged down, only the smears went up twenty feet.
The ding of the elevator caused both Zatanna and the Point Man to ready themselves, focus on the elevator door as it slid open and Jin emerged. "My god," said the Technical officer, timidly emerging onto the scene and taking it in. "Jin here," she said into her radio as she gave the pair a nod, "We've rendezvoused with Point Man and Zatanna. We've found the Delta Team."
"What do you think Jin?" asked Betters earnestly.
"There was a lot of anger in this room," replied Jin, stopping to examine one of the limbs, taking a picture with her camera. "There… isn't much left of the Delta team."
"That's just great," groused Betters, "Got anything useful to add?"
"I don't see any bullet holes. There's no brass lying around either. These guys didn't fire a shot," replied the oriental woman.
"Then… what killed them?" wondered Betters.
Zatanna cleared her throat and spoke, but her words were low, "Magic, psychic attacks," she said, turning to meet the Point Man's gaze, "From Alma."
"But… this is almost complete liquefaction," muttered Jin, the Technician's eyes drawn to one of the corpses, a torso that had a gaunt layer of skin stretched over the top half of a ribcage, with the internal organs a viscous puddle around the bones and the pelvic bone half a room away, trailing half a spinal cord. "Maybe it's a chemical agent?" Jin suggested.
Justin spoke up, "A chemical agent wouldn't drag the fleeing men back into the room," he said, turning towards the blood trail he'd walked past on the way in.
Jin shook her head, more in disbelief than denial as she muttered, "This is going to take some time," before wandering off.
"What do you think Zee?" asked Justin, snapping the Magician from her distant stare at some blood spatter on the ceiling.
"Alma did this," she repeated, crossing her arms and shuffling away, careful to stay out of the blood. "But Fettel said something, he said she was trapped. What could trap a Magician capable of doing… this?"
The words of the Psychic Commander replayed in Oswalt's mind, and the Point Man was prompted to ask a question of his own. "And what would she be capable of if he sets her free?"
Closing Notes: Alright, I had to get a bit creative on explaining why Magic can't just open all the doors, but hopefully the reasoning is the sound enough. Also, as we enter the longest, and most drawn out section of FEAR, expect me to be pretty vicious with what gets cut out just to keep the story moving along at a reasonable enough pace. Still, the flipside to that is there's a lot of exposition to explain just what the hell is going on, and I'll do my best to keep as much of that as I can.
Once again, I want to wish everyone a Happy New Year, and hopefully y'all will all be sticking to your new year's resolutions when the next chapter is posted at the end of January. Stay Frosty, Misfit Delta out.