Editor's Note: All properties are the rights of their respective owners, DC, Monolith Entertainment, etc.

Sorry I missed last month, life came at me pretty fast. I am back this month however, and have to say this is bittersweet since Monolith, makers of F.E.A.R., No One Lives Forever, and Condemned, has been shuttered this past week. Obviously this is sad news, it's a shame to see such a storied studio shuttered because the failure of Suicide Squad scared WB. If you can, go track down one of those old Monolith classics and give it a go.

Still, I will keep this story going, so I hope you enjoy reading this, and if you have something to say, leave a review.

Zatanna: Synchronicity

Chapter 4: Dedication

Zatanna had closed her eyes and was trying to mediate, but despite her best efforts, the half Homo magi couldn't forget the scene in the room she was in, the floors and walls covered in the blood of the four men whose skeleton's were strewn about. Her attempts to escape the carnage were hampered by the sheer anger she felt surround her when she tried to channel her own magical abilities. Raw emotion seeped from the walls of the Armacham HQ like the blood that dripped down them, and with it came an inescapable oppressiveness that weighed down on the magic user.

None of that was helped by the pervasive air of death permeating the building, no doubt caused by the Replica that had slain those they could find within the high-rise. Zatanna couldn't help but utter a silent prayer for the souls that no doubt still wandered the halls after their lives had been brought to an unexpected, violent end. As soon as she finished, any further attempts and distraction were ended by the crackling of the radio in her ear. "Point Man, Ms. Zatara?" intoned Betters, "We've picked up Replica radio traffic indicating they have a hostage nearby, the east side of the 41st floor. I need you to secure the hostage and get him ready for extraction. A Delta team is enroute to assist and a heli is inbound."

Opening her eyes, Zatanna looked around the room to find the other half of the duo she had found herself a part of. The Point Man stood on the other side of the room, checking the rifle he held and nodding at the thumbs up she sent his way. "Point Man copies all. Moving with Zatana to secure HVI. Out," he answered over the radio before he moved towards her. "Breaks over, looks like, ready to roll?"

"I am," she affirmed, offering her best stage smile as reassurance, but even through the featureless black mask and red goggles the FEAR Operator wore, the magician got the idea that he didn't buy it. "Are they going to be okay here?"

He turned back to the Asian woman, Jin, who was photographing more of the room. "The Delta guys are good; they'll keep her safe from the Replica. As for the other stuff… you tell me."

Biting her lip, the magician mulled over the question, but no answer came. "I can't say for sure," was the response Zatanna finally settled on, "This spirit, Alma, she's clearly hostile. But what's her motive? Are the episodes random, or is there some pattern?"

"Other than helping Fettel," observed the Point Man. The half Homo magi flinched, an eyebrow raised as she looked at the FEAR Operator, who expanded. "We've only seen her attack civilians or our personnel. Not the Replica. That, and Fettel said she called to him."

"But why him?" wondered Zatanna, but the Point Man had no answer to this. Taking a breath and shaking her head, the Magician closed her eyes and spread her arms and saying, "Ekat su ot eht egatsoh!" before clapping her hands together. A small purple wisp sprang forth and bobbed through the air, going down one hallway and vanishing around the corner as Zatanna looked back to her partner and made a theatrical gesture.

The Point Man shouldered his assault rifle and set off, following the magical marker with Zatanna following close behind him. More office cubicles awaited them as they moved through the floor, the only light coming from a handful of computer monitors that stubbornly remained on in the otherwise lifeless space. Advancing slowly past the workstations, Zatanna didn't notice that the FEAR operator had come to a sudden halt and bounced off his back. Illuminated by the dull blue glow of a nearby monitor, the Point Man's gaze was on the nearby desk, the Magician saw, specifically the blinking red light on the desk phone. "Check that out, I'll cover you," he whispered.

Slipping into the cubicle and sidestepping the chair, the Magician's gloved finger came down on the playback button. "You have one new message. First message from: Harlan Wade."

Zatanna couldn't help but wonder if this Harlan Wade was related to the woman mentioned in that other message, Alice Wade. The man certainly spoke with the gruffness and authority that came with age, he almost sounded like a less formal, less refined version of her own father. "Mike, it's Harlan Wade. Chuck Habegger seems to think your people are blowing smoke up his ass on this Perseus situation. I don't know which of you shitheels over there is calling the shots," the man spat, clearly none too pleased, "But you'd better stop dicking around, fast, because the readings are getting worse by the minute. It's really a simple choice. You can listen to the expert advice you're being given or you can brace yourselves for the assfuck of the century," he snarled. "Cause it's coming, you can mark my words on that."

"I think it's here," murmured the Point Man.

Zatanna held her tongue, if Armacham was dabbling in magic, she well knew that there were worse supernatural things than a 1000 military clones that they could awaken. Instead, she shook her head and wondered aloud, "If only we could talk to these people, Wade, or Habegger…."

"Can't do that," replied the Point Man, "At least not Habegger. Fettel killed him. We found his remains before I came across you at the Water Treatment Plant."

Pursing her lips, Zatanna wondered if a similar fate had befallen the others, only for her thoughts to be suddenly interrupted by her earpiece picking up Replica radio chatter. "Light! Check it!" barked one of the clone soldiers gruffly, and she instantly crouched down and realized that her magical guidance marker at the edge of the room was still flickering in the dark.

"Shit," cursed the Point Man, "Stay out of sight," he said before slipping off, leaving Zatanna alone in the cubicle. As the operator became shrouded by shadows, the woman turned her attention to the silhouettes of the Replica approaching from the far end of the office space. The four soldiers fanned out, their weapons at the ready as they methodically swept through each cubicle, drawing ever closer.

"Secure the area!" barked one of the clones, "The Commander is on his way."

"Roger," was the seemingly automatic response from one of the other troopers.

Zatanna waited for the Point Man to act, but she wasn't resigned to waiting forever and quietly whispered, "Ekoms dna srorrim!" Three copies of the stage magician 'poofed' into existence, arrayed around the Homo magis position, garnering a nearly instant response.

"Contact! By the vending machine!" snapped one of the Replica, the call preceeding a long burst of automatic gunfire that ripped through the room, sending dust and papers flying as bullets chewed through cubicles, the muzzle flash illuminating the spectacle. A second trooper opened fire, the deep roar of his shotgun a contrast to the staccato chatter of the firsts SMG as a second illusion faded into wisps of smoke. "They're decoys! Cease fire!"

The answer was another short burst of gunfire, "God damnit, I said cease…" began the leader of the Replica squad before Zatanna peered out of the cubicle to see another burst take off his head, causing him to crumple to the floor beside his already dead squadmate. The remaining pair of clones whirled around to loose streams of fire into the darkness, spraying bullets indiscriminately into cubicles, decimating the office with the flurry of lead.

"Elgnat meht pu ni sdroc!" cast Zatanna, feeling the magic in the building, dark as it was, answer her call, the cabling for all the electronics pulling itself out of sockets and breaking through zip ties as it leapt up at the pair of Replica, snaking around their limbs and restraining them, despite their frantic struggles. Only now did Zatanna see the Point Man, his slim build backlit by the lights in the next hallway as he approached from behind the struggling clones with his rifle up, firing a burst into the back of each trooper and letting them hang limply in the cables.

Taking a breath and finding that she wasn't nearly as tightly wound after the brief firefight as the previous encounters with the Replica, Zatanna released her tenuous hold on the magic she'd summoned and straightened her waistcoat. Approaching her companion, and taking care to circle around the corpses that littered the floor of the office, she was surprised to hear him speak, "That was a good trick, with the cables. Saved my ass."

Taken off guard by the admission, the Magician took a second to recover, "Wasn't a trick," she corrected before recognizing the FEAR Operator was being genuine, in his understated way. "And I'm sure you had it well in hand, but you're welcome."

The balaclava covered face nodded as he dropped the magazine out of his rifle and tossed it away before retrieving a new one from the dwindling supply on his belt. "Bet that one comes in handy."

"Oh?" questioned the Magician with a quirked eyebrow.

"Yeah," he insisted, "If you have anyone unruly in your audience."

"That," agreed Zatanna, "And a few other ways," she teased with a wink before turning back to the magical marker still bobbing idly in midair, only wafting forward as she drew near. It lead the pair to a small conference room, the blinds torn down from the floor to ceiling windows, the big table toppled over to face the hallway and chairs all moved aside. Once through the door, Zatanna saw the equipment that had been stockpiled there, but no sign of the hostage, despite standing beside the marker, it stubbornly refused to move. "Hello? Is somebody out there? Help!" called a voice, muffled by the door opposite the one Zatanna had come through. The Magician moved towards it when a hand grabbed her arm and she turned back to see the Point Man at her side, rifle aimed at the door. "Get me out of here!"

"He needs our help," argued Zatanna.

The FEAR Operator nodded, "But it could be a trap," he cautioned before relinquishing her arm, "Stay back, take cover, and show me a magic trick." Zatanna stared at the red tinted glasses incredulously, just as much from the sense of humor that seeped through the balaclava as much as the request itself. "The door could be booby trapped," was the answer the Point Man soon gave.

Satisfied, Zatanna stepped back to the doorframe and extended a hand towards the door, "Mrasid spart, nepo rood!"

The door swung open, revealing a small storeroom on the other side, towards which the Point Man moved with Zatanna falling in behind. "Finally," came the voice of the relieved man in the small storeroom just off the conference room. While no expert, the half Homo magi could see the man was in quite the predicament. His face was bloody and nose crooked, explaining the nasally undertone to his voice, blood dripped down his ruined suit, which was badly rumpled by the ropes binding him to one of the conference room chairs. Most concerning, however, were the big bricks of plastic explosive that were strapped around his arms and torso, red indicator lights blinking angrily. "Can either of you do something about these bombs?"

Zatanna saw the Point Man shake his head, and so she made an attempt. "Elbasid sbmob!" cast the Magician, only to see the red lights continue their stubborn blinking. "Damn," she cursed, "No good."

"Point Man to Tomcat," radioed the Point Man, finger to his earpiece. "We've located the hostage, he's wired and we need assistance. How copy?"

"Good copy Point Man, stand by," replied Betters. "Den Mother, FEAR has located a hostage, we need an EOD team on the west side of the 41st floor."

"Roger that, Tomcat, I'll send somebody to help out," was the response from, Zatanna assumed, the commander of the Delta Force teams supporting them.

"Help's on the way sir, stay calm," informed the Point Man, looking back out the storeroom door.

"You special forces or something?" asked the man in the chair, voice shaking a little bit less.

"Or something," was the expectedly cryptic reply from the FEAR Operator.

The hostage then looked at Zatanna, gnarled face twisting with confusion. "And uh… how'd you end up here?"

"Magic," she answered while flashing a bright smile at him. "I could show you a trick, pass the time, Mr…."

"Bishop," returned the man, "Aldus Bishop."

"Do you know why you were taken hostage, Mr. Bishop?" asked the Point Man, his covered eyes still looking out beyond the door.

"The guys that captured me, they were asking about Harlan Wade," responded Bishop. "Me and his daughter work on the same Task Force."

"What kind of Task Force?" asked Zatanna, feeling her curiosity grow.

"We… we were working on a study of the Auburn District over the last 10 years," was the reply. Bishop must've been able to see the confusion on the Magician's face and quickly added, "Nobody told us what it was for."

"Where's Wade now?" interjected the FEAR Operator.

Now it was Bishop's turn to show confusion, "Uh… which one?"

"Either," was the curt response from the Point Man.

"I don't know about her dad, but last I knew, Alice was in her office, over in the executive building, on the sixth floor." After he said that, Bishop stiffened, "I didn't tell them that. Didn't tell those men much of anything. They asked them about Harlan, and I said I didn't know. Do you think she's okay?"

"We'll find out, after we take care of you," assured Zatanna, offering him a reassuring smile. Aldus took a breath and calmed down, so the Magician took the opportunity to press further. "This Task Force, did you… discover anything?"

Taking a deep breath, Bishop closed his eyes for a second and leaned back in the chair before speaking. "The whole area, the Auburn District, it's a ghost town. Everyone who lived there picked up sticks and left in the last twenty years. I think the guys over in that Executive building were looking to pick up the land on the cheap, so that's why we were checking it out, but that's a guess. I don't know for sure," he hedged.

"Alright, go on," urged Zatanna gently.

"We talked to people, the ones who left, tracked them down and interviewed them. There was one, this old woman, she told us how people used to get sick, really sick. Nasty bugs would tear through the school, through the whole neighborhood. Eating disorders, autistic behaviors, mental disorders. People got paranoid, supposedly, it was a nice neighborhood, back in the day, but people started bolting their back doors all of a sudden, but nobody could explain why," Bishop explained before shaking his head. "Anyways, Alice dug through the archives, last I heard was there were newspaper reports talking about all of this, it really did happen, but it started suddenly, about 25 years ago. I thought it must've been some contamination. Radiological or chemical, probably in the ground water, but those tests came back negative, same for the soil too."

Before Zatanna could ask another question, the lights began to flicker and she looked back to the door, where the Point Man stood poised, with his rifle ready. "Replica?" she whispered, seeing her partner shake his head in the dancing lights. Swallowing, she crept towards the entrance and snuck around behind him, peering out into the hallway, seeing the lights intermittently cut out until she picked up on something different. "Alma!" she exclaimed, voice still a whisper as she saw the distinct red dress and tensed, only for the lights to cut out again.

"Yeah," agreed the Point Man, his rifle aimed where the little girl had been before suddenly snapping to another spot. "Saw movement," he informed, "Stay here, protect Bishop." With that, he darted from the store room and slid behind the overturned table, laying on his back to peek around the corner with his rifle as the lights began to flicker again, trying to come back on but unable to muster the will. "FEAR!" called the Point Man down the hall.

Then the hall answered back. "Delta!" was the reply before the lights came back on and stayed on, Zatanna letting out a breath she had been saving to cast a spell.

"It's okay," she assured Bishop, "They're friends."

"Finally," breathed the bound man relief clear in his words as he grunted in effort and began to use his feet to push himself back through the door and into the conference room, and Zatanna followed. Coming in the far side door under the watchful eye of the Magician and Point Man was a trio of men, dressed in grey pants and shirts with black vests and carrying their own short black rifles. "Are you the bomb experts?" asked Bishop with understandable anxiety.

"That's right, name's Holiday," answered the man in front, an African American with short cut hair in his early thirties, Zatanna judged. With a hand gesture, the other two took up positions overlooking the hallway while Holiday slung his weapon and approached Bishop. "Don't worry, you'll be fine," assured the Delta Force member.

"Just get this shit off me," replied Bishop tiredly, "Please."

Zatanna saw Holiday shake his head and sling his assault rifle before crouching down and examining the explosives. "Whoever rigged this is definitely a pro," said the Delta Force operator in admiring tone.

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" snapped Bishop as he fidgeted in the chair.

"He may be a pro," Holiday said with a hint of mirth, "But I'm a master."

Zatanna watched as the soldier reached into his pouches for some tools and set to work, but couldn't help but notice the way he was shifting his position. "Tel ereht eb thgil!" said the Magician, conjuring a trio of luminescent orbs into the air that brightly illuminated Bishop, making the battered man squint as Holiday looked up from his work.

"Er… thanks," he said after a second, "You got magic, or something?"

"Zatanna Zatara, at your service," she replied with a showwoman's bow.

"No shit?" was the immediate answer from Holiday, causing Zatanna to chuckle airily as she gave him a wry smirk in return. "Hey, if it's not too much to ask," he said after looking back down at the bomb, "Could I get you to sign something for my daughters? They're big fans of yours."

"Is now really the time to be having this conversation?" asked Bishop irritably.

"Hey, don't jostle. If your shaking completes the wrong circuit, then you'll take us all with you," rebuked Holiday as he cut another wire. "Can't mess up now, and thinking of my daughters keeps me in my happy place."

The Armacham employee grumbled, "Yeah, yeah, just hurry it up, I gotta take a leak."

Holiday chuckled as he spun the chair slightly and followed the wires, "Just hold it a little bit longer, I'm almost… done," he declared with a final snip of the cutters, causing the red lights to go dim. "There, now I just need to…" he began as he drew his bayonet and began to saw through the tape holding the whole vest together, "Do that. There we go."

With that, the explosives were pulled off Bishop and thrown back into the storeroom, and Zatanna was quick to add, "Edacirrab taht rood!" The conference table moved across the floor, seemingly of its own volition, to reinforce the thin storeroom wall, much to the amazement of the others. "Now what?" she asked with a nonchalant grin.

"Now we get him to the roof and extract him," said the Point Man as he readied his rifle, "Let's get moving Zee, we'll clear the way."

Flashlight scanning across yet another dark, empty office space, Justin Oswalt thoroughly checked each corner for any sign of Replica lying in wait to ambush the group in this final stop before their destination. So far, there had been no sign of the clone soldiers or assassins on the way to the rooftop extraction point, and as Justin and Zatanna pushed through the wove their way around the desks and swept each office, it seemed that would not change here.

Upon finally reaching the far side, and the door marked with the still lit 'Exit' sign, one of the few things lit in the office space, Oswalt allowed himself to relax, if only slightly. Taking one hand off his gun to key his radio, the FEAR Operator said, "Point Man to Holiday, area's clear. Come on ahead."

"Roger recon, we're on our way," Holiday promptly acknowledged before Oswalt was left with little to do but wait by the door with his partner.

While she looked incongruous with her top hat and fishnets, Zatanna had handled herself commendably, her magic skills were undeniably useful and her supernatural knowledge surpassed anyone on the FEAR team. It was only after a few moments of staring at the magician that Oswalt caught himself, thankful his faux pas had gone unnoticed as he followed the raven haired woman's gaze towards one of the offices. Readying his rifle, Oswalt peered into the darkness alongside the woman, "What do you see?"

"That office, over there," she said, extending a gloved hand, "I saw a light on."

"There isn't one now…" observed Oswald right before he saw a light come on. "What the…."

The light stayed on for a second before suddenly clicking off, and then coming back on, then off. Enthralled, the Point Man watched closely before he recognized the pattern. "It's Morse Code, that was a C…O…M…E," Oswalt translated.

"Come?" blurted Zatanna, voice filled with surprise.

But Justin had to keep his eyes on the light, "H… E… R… E," he said aloud before the light went out and stayed out.

"Come here," Zatanna said before she loudly sucked in a breath, "That's ominous."

While the FEAR Operator agreed, he'd already made up his mind and shouldered his rifle, "I'll check it out, watch my back," he instructed, seeing the Magician nod before he clicked on his radio, "Point Man to Holiday, hold on. We got something playing with the lights, I'm going to check it out."

"Make it quick, Point Man," answered the Delta Force operator, "We're really fucking exposed out here."

"Copy," returned the Point Man as he turned on his light and swept through the cramped office, seeing nothing amiss. The ceiling tiles were all still in place and the entire office was relatively intact. The only thing in disarray was the desk, with a file sprawled out over it, a file that was right under the light that flicked back on.

"See anything?" called Zatanna from outside.

"It's a file about Perseus, confirms the point of the program was to train psychic commanders to work with the Replica clone soldiers. Paxton Fettel is listed as the only commander," rattled off the Point Man before stepping back from the desk, "Weird thing is, he's referred to as the 'Second Prototype.'"

Zatanna raised an eyebrow, but didn't have time to comment before the rhythmic sound of an approaching helicopter's rotor was audible through the windows. "Holiday," called the Justin over the radio, "Area's clear and chopper's here. Come on in."

"Rog," was the instant reply as Oswalt rejoined the Magician by the exit door, with the Delta Team and Bishop arriving a few minutes later. The Armacham employee looked beleaguered beyond belief, but his ordeal was nearly over as he was ushered out the door and to the waiting Black Hawk. Oswalt watched from the doorway as the Delta team clambered aboard the bird and turned to help Bishop follow suit, only for the Armacham employee to stagger and slump forward, fresh splotches of red seeping through his suit as he was dragged onto the helicopter, the fuselage sparking angrily. "We're taking fire!" called Holiday, "Get us the hell outta here!"

The Point Man rushed out and braced his rifle on the doorframe unleashing a long burst into the night, indiscriminately throwing bullets back at the ambushers perched on an elevated section of the roof. With the helicopter lifting off, pounding the Point Man with rotor wash as it banked away, the FEAR Operator was left to fire a few sporadic bursts at the unseen attackers until his rifle ran dry. A series of muzzle flashes from the higher elevation caught Oswalt's eye and he ducked back just as bullets streaked past. "What the hell is happening?" screamed Betters over the radio while Oswalt ripped the empty magazine and tossed it away, reaching to find a new one only to come up empty.

As he angrily discarded the XM8 Rifle, he heard Holiday come over the radio, "Bishop's down! Repeat, Bishop is down!"

Cursing under his breath, Oswalt unslung the SPAS-12 shotgun and racked the slide, confirming there was a round in the chamber before a door was thrown open behind the pair. Whipping around, the Point Man swung the scattergun on the figure that emerged but hesitated to pull the trigger when he saw the man's blue shirt and black vest, complete with patch that read 'ATC' across the front. "Esolc eht rood!" Zatanna had shouted preemptively, the heavy metal exterior door slammed shut just as the trio of men raised their rifles and fired at them.

The door rippled as rounds struck it, and Oswalt could see the Magician straining as she leaned into her spell, energies circling around her hands. "Let me through!" Oswalt barked through the rapacious roar of gunfire. As soon as he saw Zatanna step back, the Point Man slid past her and whipped the gun around the bulging door and pulled the trigger. The thunderous report of the SPAS signaled the salvo of buckshot sent downrange, slamming into the nearest ATC Security guard and causing him to crumple to the floor. The other two recoiled, ducking behind the doorframe as Justin cycled the action and rushed forwards, bounding towards the pair of guards with long strides. Drawing near, he saw a foot begin to emerge from the doorframe and dropped down, sliding straight at the exposed leg while his upper body twisted to wrest the SPAS around towards the other just as he came out.

Muzzle flash lit up the dark hallway as he unleashed a close range blast of buckshot that slammed into the guard's armored vest and glass windoe behind him. The force of the impact sent the man flying back through the weakened glass, shattering it as he tumbled out of the building. Just as he fell, Justin drove his foot forward, kicking the last guard's knee with all his strength, and sending him staggering back before losing his balance and fell hard, slamming into the floor as the Point Man popped up into a crouch and spun around. Any hope he had that the ATC guard would surrender were dashed when the man reached for the pistol on his hip and the Point Man fired again, leaving his chest a mess of gore and spraying viscera across the wall behind him.

Before he could process that, the snap of bullets caused the Point Man to dive forwards, back through the door and scamper into cover as more glass shattered around him and he rolled into cover as more fire came down around him. "Tomcat, Point Man, we've been engaged by ATC Security!" he called into his radio before reaching out and dragging the corpse of the first guard he had killed closer so he could take the dead man's rifle.

"Are you sure?" was Betters' incredulous reply.

Tucking the stock of the bullpup TAR-21 rifle into his shoulder, Oswalt looked down at the patrol cap still on the dead man's head with the letters 'ATC' embroidered on it. "Oh yeah, I'm sure," the Point Man answered as he yanked the extra magazines from the man's vest, discarding one that had caught a pair of buckshot pellets and stowing the others in his own gear.

His team coordinator was still trying to make sense of the situation. "Friendly fire?" he suggested.

"Doesn't look all that friendly!" answered Zatanna, causing Oswalt to look back her way as she remained pinned down in the doorway.

Replaying the last minute in his mind, Oswalt realized something, "They were targeting Bishop," he asserted as he finished familiarizing himself with the scope equipped Israeli weapon.

Betters exasperated reply perfectly summed up how the Point Man felt, "What the fuck is ATC doing?"

"Guess they didn't trust him to keep his mouth shut," offered Zatanna.

"I'll look into it," returned Betters before the line went silent.

Oswalt was less concerned with the big picture than with the bullets still flying by him, and cursed under his breath as he rolled back towards his companion. "Zee!" he called out, "Can you move that door?"

"Slowly!" she shouted back before another burst of gunfire ripped up the carpet around him.

"Do it!" snapped Oswalt as he got his feet under him and tightened his grip on the Tavor.

"Etativel eht rood ffo sti segnih!" shouted the Magician as the Point Man watched the heavy metal slab lift off the doorframe and hover a few inches above the ground. He watched Zatanna walk slowly, straining all the way towards him as she magically dragged the door with her as it began to draw fire. Sparks flew as bullets pinged off the thick metal, but the door held up under the barrage as the Point Man darted out of cover to join Zatanna behind it, stepping in front of her has she pressed herself close to him, and they resumed their advance.

"Down the hallway," ordered Oswalt as more rounds struck the steel, "Slow is smooth, smooth is fast." Their advance felt glacial as the incoming fire slowed, a constant drizzle of bullets raining down on them. Every so often, another pane of glass was shot out by the incoming bullets before the struck the door, Oswalt seeing the metal bulge in his peripheral. "Almost there," he encouraged, able to feel Zatanna's breathing get heavier as she struggled from the sustained exertion. "Alright stop!" ordered the Operator before giving the hovering door a push, "Towards the edge!"

Zatanna complied, stepping over the shattered glass as she held the door out over the drop down to the roof below, leaving Oswalt enough of a gap to drop down under the guns. Rolling as he hit the concrete, the Point Man dashed behind an AC unit, ducking behind it and shouldering his rifle to scan the rooftop where the ATC Guards were set up. "Come on," he encouraged quietly when he saw a flicker of movement and snapped the compact rifle over, resting the scope's crosshair on the man's chest before he squeezed the trigger. The Tavor bucked against his shoulder as it spat out it's three round burst, all three shots ripping through the light Kevlar vest the guard wore as he toppled back in a spray of blood.

Justin vaulted over the unit and dashed forward, running for the stairs up to that higher level when he heard a familiar voice shout out, "Ekam stcud otni sriats!"

There was the harsh sound of tearing metal as the ducts were ripped from the AC units and twisted into an ad hoc ramp up. His decision was instant as he let his rifle hang from his sling and drew one of his USPs while he used his free hand to clamber up the rickety construction, seemingly held together solely by the purple field of magic that surrounded the sheet metal. Nearing the top, the Point Man could feel the metal below him start to buckle and falter, so he tensed and leapt off, diving towards the rooftop. Time seemed to slow as he soared through the air and he raised the HK Pistol to squeeze off a few rounds at the ATC Guard who came to confront him. The guard staggered as the heavy .45ACP rounds hit him, tearing off his shoulder before one hit him in the head and he fell back, hitting the rooftop at the same time the Point Man did, but only Oswalt got back up behind another roof top unit.

Holstering his sidearm, the Point Man reached for his Tavor when another ATC Guard rounded the sheet metal box. Acting quickly, Oswalt didn't try to bring the rifle to bear, and instead stepped forwards, ramming the stock into the guard's gut, before popping it up to smash it into his chin, sending his head recoiling back. The Point Man saw another Guard emerge in his periphery and twisted around as he shouldered the Tavor and fired a pair of three round bursts to stitch their way up his chest. Before his body had hit the ground, Oswalt had turned back and leveled the Israeli bullpup at the Guard he'd hit with its butt before pulling the trigger, unleashing a point-blank burst into his chest.

Just then the doors back into the building burst open and the Point Man raised his gun, plugging a burst into the first man out before ducking behind the roof top equipment as the thunderous blast of a shotgun filled the night. Oswalt tried to stick his head up only for a rapid burst of rifle fire zipped past him and he thought better of it. He then saw a familiar top hat come up the stairs on the far side of the platform before the Homo magi called out, "Teppup retsam!"

Oswalt watched the odd magical runes appear in the doorway before the three guards all staggered through it, panicked shouts and attempts to defy their own legs ended only by three swift bursts from the Point Man's Tavor. Lowering the still smoking gun, the FEAR Operator waited a moment for any further threats to appear, and when none did, he dropped the nearly spent magazine and jammed a fresh one in before moving to regroup with the Zatanna. "Thanks for the assist," Justin said as the Magician approached.

With a flourish, she removed her hat and took a bow, "What can I say? I'm a crowd pleaser," she replied with a grin before the crackle of a radio took their attention.

"Bishop has been neutralized," reported someone, the voice coming from the radio still on the belt of one of the dead ATC Guards.

"Good work," was the reply. "Farley's men are still looking for the Wade girl, so see if you can locate Ian Hives."

"Will do," responded the first voice before there was another crackle and the box fell silent.

"Bishop, Wade, Hives," repeated Zatanna as Oswalt crouched down and unlatched the radio from the man's belt, taking it and more ammunition for his rifle. "It looks like ATC is going after anyone connected to Perseus."

"Want to tie up loose ends," surmised the FEAR Operator grimly.

When he looked back up at Zatanna, he could see her chew her lip, "What do we do?" she asked.

Shrugging, he drew his shotgun in preparation for the tight quarters ahead said, "Beat them to it."

"Clear, come on," ushered the Point Man as Zatanna followed the FEAR Operator into the freight elevator on their search for Hives and Wade. When the grating closed behind them and the lift began to lurch upwards, the Homo magi took a second to steady herself amidst the creaking gears and flickering lights in the dingy shaft. Their impromptu jaunt across the buildings rooftops had led them back into the myriad service passages that led them back deeper into the Armacham HQ, but they were seemingly abandoned, even if the magician could feel the hair on the back of her neck still standing up.

A buzzing in her ear was followed up with a familiar midwestern drawl, "Tomcat here, I've got you two coming up on a research area. The last satellite pass has Fettel on the other side of that research area, you two'll have to hustle to intercept. No fix on the Wade girl yet, but I'll keep trying," informed Betters. "I've been trying to get through to Geniveve Aristeed. She's the president of Armacham. I was able to confirm she wasn't around when Fettel's men hit the compound, but I can't seem to track her down. Maybe she doesn't want to be found."

Zatanna frowned, but couldn't dwell on what that might mean as she saw the red lenses of the Point Man's glasses looking her way and nodded. The FEAR Operator then keyed his radio and responded, "Point Man copies all. Be advised we have actionable intel that ATC Security is looking for one Ian Hives. Request update on his location if able. How copy?"

"Solid copy Point Man. Good hunting, out," returned the Team Coordinator before the earpiece went silent.

When the elevator finally stopped, Zatanna saw that they were in some sort of industrial lab, with the Point Man out in front, his flashlight falling on workbenches, arrays of tools, mathematical charts, and white boards filled with scribbled equations. But it wasn't long before they found signs of the brutality permeating the building as a bullet ridden body was slumped in a blood soaked chair, the computer monitor he was working at still glowing despite the bullet hole in it.

There was another workbench with the nameplate 'I. Hives' on it, the desk phone's message light blinking to cast an eerie red pulse on the grisly scene. The Point Man pressed the button to play it and the familiar monotone voice emanated from the machine. "You have… one… new message from… Geniveve Aristide." Zatanna's eyes widened as she looked at the phone, taking in the cool, collected, and slightly vain female voice that emanated from the answering machine. "Ian, can you send me copies of any materials your task force has put together on the Origin anomalies? Harlan is supposed to be updating me daily, but apparently he's got his hands full with the grudge he insists on carrying. I hope he's not dribbling too much poison in people's ears. I take full responsibility for what happened to the team, but wishing won't bring them back. In any case, now's not the time for assigning blame. We have to work together as a team to get through this crisis." Then, almost as an afterthought, she added, "Thanks so much," in an almost venomous tone. "End of messages."

"CYA mode, sounds like," observed the Point Man, causing Zatanna to raise an eyebrow, "Cover your ass."

"Fantastic," responded the Homo magi dryly, "What now?"

"Look Zee," said the Point Man, the Operator gesturing to a sign on the wall, "Security room up ahead, let's check it."

"Got it," replied the Magician as he led her out of the labs and into a hallway before rounding a corner and snapping his shotgun up, only for it to slowly lower. "What is it?" she asked, tensing.

"I can't believe it," he muttered as a perplexed Zatanna stepped out and saw the rotund figure of Norton Mapes hunched over the computer in the security office, separated from the pair by a thick pane of reinforced bulletproof glass. Shaking her head, the Magician strode forward and wrapped her knuckles against the transparent surface, taking some small bit of satisfaction in watching the IT engineer leap back from the keyboard as if it had just tazed him.

"Oh perfect," he groaned, "You two again." Waddling back to the keyboard, his hand was poised over the controls before he spoke, jowls jostling with every syllable. "You see this button? I wonder what this does…."

Zatanna was caught flat footed as an alarm blared and something dropped down from the ceiling, she twisted to see some sort of mechanical contraption swing around and realized too late that she was staring down the barrel of a gun as the turret's laser sight rested on her chest. She reflexively raised her arms in a completely futile gesture before the automatic sentry gun exploded in a shower of sparks and the thunderous report of the Point Man's shotgun echoed through the hallway.

Letting out a breath, the Magician turned towards her companion, "Thanks," she said. The enigmatic man gave her a single, silent nod before racking the slide on his shotgun and Zatanna asked, "Now what?"

In response, the Point Man leveled the weapon at the electronic locking panel for the sliding security door, leaving it a sparking wreck. "We keep going. Ready?" he asked, voice tinged with a hint of gentleness. While touched, the Magician steeled herself and flipped her hair back defiantly before nodding, "Then get the door."

"Hsup eht rood nepo!" she demanded, and the magic she channeled complied, sending the door sliding away against grinding metal, the electromagnetic lock that secured it shot away. "After you," she said, following the FEAR Operator into the breach and entering another laboratory, this one all sterile white walls and polished floors.

Their entrance was noticed by the blinking sensor Zatanna saw tucked into the corner behind them and the PA system crackled with a warning. "Automatic defensive measures are active in this area. Unauthorized personnel will be shot on sight."

That was all the warning they got before another turret dropped from the ceiling as the Point Man snapped a shot off that only grazed the sentry turret. Zatanna prepared a spell before she felt her hand being grabbed to drag her into a cubby just as a stream of gunfire tore through the hallway. Peering out over the Point Man's shoulder, Zatanna spied an electrical box on the other side of the hall behind a locked gate, not that it would stop her. "Rowep revel ot ffo!" the Homo magi shouted through the gunfire before it was suddenly silenced as the lights went out.

With a snap of her fingers, Zatanna conjured a small candle sized flame to flicker above her raised index finger, and she could see the fire dance in the reflection of the Point Man's glasses. He readied his shotgun and turned on the light attached to his left shoulder, using that to light the way through the lab until he came to a sudden halt. "Look," He said simply. Zatanna's gaze followed the beam of his flashlight to an office across the hall, red light visibly blinking through the window. "Let's check it out."

The flashlight's beam swept up and down the next hallway before the Point Man stepped out into it, making haste to the office door and trying to open it. "Locked," he hissed, and before Zatanna could offer her aid he said, "Stand back." Jamming the muzzle of his shotgun into the wood and pulling the trigger, Zatanna saw the door flex as one of its hinges was blown off, the Point Man cycling the weapon before repeating the process twice more and letting the now freestanding door fall back with an echoing thud.

Squinting into the darkness, the Homo magi was almost disappointed to find a neat and tidy, almost barren office space with only a sparse handful of blueprints and technical drawings, most centered around some sort of structure. "Looks like a bomb shelter," muttered the FEAR Operator, "Whatever it is… lotta concrete."

Zatanna silently agreed before her eyes fell on another phone with yet another message. "You have… one… new message," informed the computerized voice. "First message from… Geniveve Aristide… John, it's Geniveve," introduced the Armacham CEO, "It seems the senator's plan failed. His special forces team has been unable to neutralize Fettel. We should assume the worst. Instruct the security force to repel the outsiders. We need time to clean things up… end of messages."

"My god…" breathed Zatanna, taking a step back. "We killed those men," recalled the Magician as the realization fell on her like an elephant, "And they weren't possessed or corrupted, they were…."

"Following orders," finished the Point Man grimly, "Bastards will pay," he promised lowly. "You good?"

Swallowing hard, the Magician's mind raced, she had come out here to be like her father, use her magical talent to fight monsters, evil creatures. Only she had, hadn't she? Her father always was quick to remind her that evil took many forms, and this Aristide woman was certainly despicable enough, and so too then, were the men who served her. It was a rationalization that still ate away at her in the pit of her stomach, but it was enough to calm her mind.

For now.

Nodding, she silently fell in behind the soldier as he led the way back into the darkened laboratories. They soon went back to another working area labeled with a sign that read 'Weapons Laboratory' and was filled with all manner of complex machinery, all of which was in some state of disassembly, parts and tools strewn about. The Point Man swept into the space, flashlight sweeping over the room when Zatanna heard the mechanical clatter of another turret deploying. "Emit sdnats llits!" she commanded before clapping her hands together, the shockwave caused by their meeting reverberating through the room, stilling everything it touched.

Only the Point Man was able to move through her spell, and he went to work, swiftly planting a pair of shells into each of the two turrets that had descended from the ceiling, leaving them shattered, sparking wrecks. She then watched his hand go to his chest, reaching for the part of his gear that had once held a score of shells, but now lay barren. "Shit," he cursed lowly before Zatanna met his gaze, able to picture the pleading expression behind his mask, "Can you…."

"No," she said with a sad shake of her head, "But there must be something here you can use." Turning back to the weapons lab, the Magician spied a stack of boxes in the corner. "Nepo eht setarc!" Zatanna spoke, watching as the boxes unstacked themselves and popped open to reveal their contents. Strutting towards them, the smug Homo magi peered inside only for her grin to fall. "I… don't know what that is," she admitted upon examining the enormous weapon inside.

The Point Man seemed unbothered by its bulk and discarded his shotgun in favor of the new weapon, which looked almost comically large in his hands as he looked down on it. "It's a MOD-3 multi-rocket launcher, apparently," he said as he struggled to hold the weapon, tucking the stock under his arm as he tried to wield it. "Let's go."

Before Zatanna could try to raise an argument, the Point Man pressed on, hefting his new weapon as he passed through another sliding security door, and the Magician was left with no choice but to follow him into another sort of loading bay. "Clear," announced the Point Man after he swept his light over the whole room, which was barren and desolate, unremarkable save for the two floor to ceiling columns in the middle.

"Not even a door out," observed Zatanna, "Now what?"

As if in answer to her question, a rumbling emanated from that floor above as a section of it began to descend down between the two columns. The Point Man whipped around to level his weapon up at the platform before thinking better of it. "Take cover," he ordered, and the pair rushed back to the doorway, tucking themselves in behind either side of the concrete doorframe. Peering out as the sound of the elevator grew louder, Zatanna's eyes widened at the sight of the armored behemoth at the center of the descending platform, 'REV-6' stenciled across the bulbous torso of the headless armored suit.

The whole thing swung towards the doorway and leveled both arms before unleashing a salvo of rockets towards the pair, the slow moving projectiles twisting their way through the air as Zatanna shouted back, "Pots lla stekcor!" Answering her command, the rockets instalty stilled, motors still burning furiously for a few seconds before burning out and the now harmless projectiles fell to the floor in a series of metallic clattering.

"Let's hope this works," grunted the Point Man as he leveled his own weapon and returned fire. "WOAH!" he shouted as a series of rockets ripped from the front end of the weapon and streaked back at the REV6, smashing against the plate and ripping chunks out of the metal. The REV6 staggered, but kept coming as the Point Man fired another salvo of rockets at it, then another, and another, Zatanna only having to watch as the armored suit was blasted apart until it lay on the floor, little left but shattered, smoking slag. "Hot damn, what a gun," exclaimed the Point Man as he looked down at the weapon and pulled out the magazine at the bottom, "Outta ammo though. Sit tight, I'm going to see if there's another one back there."

Closing Notes: Alright, that'll do it for this installment. Moving with pace now, making good progress through the base game story, should have another chapter up next month. Until then...

Stay Frosty, Misfit Delta out.