Author's Note: All properties are the rights of their respective owners, DC, Monolith Entertainment, etc.
Alright, it's been a while, but I've finally remembered that I need to post the stuff I write, and what better time to post something a bit horrorish than on Halloween night.
Zatanna: Synchronicity
Chapter 1: Initiation
A single man kneeled in a cell with his hands pressed to his head as the lights flickered outside the door. He suddenly threw his head back and screamed, the door to the cell swung open. Coming to his feet and moving with slow, shuffling strides, the gaunt man walked down the halls under flickering lights, pain etched on his hollow features. Across the facility, more stirred, a thousand soulless soldiers stood at attention, their weapons at the ready, and then one platoon came forwards. Then came a second, and then a third….
The man from a cell came across a watchmen reading in the lounge and took up the first implement he came across, a screwdriver from an open toolbox on the floor. Stalking up behind the unsuspecting guard, the purloined flathead was driven into his throat, blood spraying from the severed artery as the man fell to the floor, life draining out of him. Such a brutal action didn't go unnoticed by the guards watching the security cameras in utter shock, and by the time the pair shook themselves into action, they turned to the door to find that platoon of soulless soldiers waiting there, weapons trained on the watchmen. Barely a word came out before they were both cut down in a hail of automatic fire from the firing squad.
Throughout the facility, everyone left working late into the night heard the commotion, mostly researchers tasked with a special, critical assignment that kept them away from their families for this night and forever. A second platoon swept through the second floor, searching each room with military precision and executing any soul they came across without remorse. With the exits secured, it was only a matter of time until the soldiers cleared the rest of the building, turning the research facility into an abattoir.
It was one body that the gaunt man took an interest in, staring distantly at the dead man's face as he fell to both knees, leaned over, and took a bite from the torn, bloody flesh.
The phone's sudden ringing elicited a grumble before it was picked up. "Yes?"
"Sorry to wake you, Senator," was the apologetic reply of the female Executive, "It's about Origin."
All it took was that last word for the Senator to fully awaken. "What happened?"
"There was an uprising," reported the Executive, "Fettel has taken command of the prototypes."
"My God," breathed the Senator.
"We can still resolve this discreetly," assured the Executive, "But we have to move fast."
Fumbling through his nightstand drawer, the Senator came up with his rolodex and set it beside the phone. "All right, all right. Let me… make a few calls," he said as he found the right card.
"And now, for my final trick!" announced the stage magician with a flourish of her arms, the assembled crowd falling silent with all eyes up on the stage, 25-year-old Justin Oswalt amongst them. The entire theater went dark, murmurs coming from the assembled people before the lights came back on, revealing that the magician was no longer along on stage, now flanked by a pair of massive elephants with a third looming behind her, trunks raised in the air to emit a powerful roar. "I will make this terrible trio of terrifying tenders vanish before your eyes!"
With a wave of her wand, the magician said something in a language Oswalt couldn't understand before the creatures shuttered and started to lift off the stage until they were floating whimsically through the air, turning end over end above the wowed crowd. While Justin was trying to wrap his head around what he was seeing, all three creatures vanished with dramatic puffs of smoke, much to the amazement of the crowd. Applause broke out, many in the crowd giving the performer a standing ovation, causing her to remove her top hat and take a bow.
While Justin clapped along, a sense of melancholy kept him in his seat as he cast a forlorn glance at the empty seat alongside him. As the cheers began to die down, Oswalt's beeper chirped, snapping him from the moment to look at the message he'd been sent. With a grimace that his vacation was about to be cut short, but not all that broken up about it, Oswalt put the device back on his belt and got up from his seat, making for the exit as the stage lights began to fade and the performer, retired backstage.
Stepping out of the theater, Oswalt moved aside, away from the bustle of the Las Vegas street, even if it was off the strip, and dialed the phone number on his pager on his cellphone. "Betters," answered a man with a notable midwestern accent.
"Oswalt, answering your page," returned Justin, eyes on the neon lighting up the night.
"Good, sorry to interrupt your leave, how soon can you get to Nellis?" asked the man, straight to the point.
Turning on his heel, Justin walked towards the parking lot, pulling a set of keys from his pocket, "I can be there in about an hour, sir."
"None of that sir shit kid. Where are you anyways?" asked the commissioner.
"Down in Vegas, got tickets to that magic show near the strip. Zatanna," answered Justin.
"Zatara's kid, eh? I saw her old man once; he was pretty good. I'm sure you had a good time but it's over now. Just get your butt up here," ordered Betters tersely, "We have a situation developing."
With a press of the button on his key, Oswalt unlocked his car and opened the door, "I'm on my way," assured Justin before ending the call and twisting the key, bringing the LS7 small block to life and putting the Z06 Corvette into gear, the Army 1st Lieutenant racing out of the Sin City to start early on his next assignment.
"That was a terrific show my dear, you were marvelous," the kindly old man said as he came through the door of Zatanna's dressing room, the magician herself watching his reflection in her vanity mirror. "But I do hope those elephants are alright, you don't want PETA on your back, I assure you."
"You're assuming they were real, Lester," replied the younger magician with a wry smirk. Turning around and crossing her legs as she leaned back in her chair, Zatanna tried to hide her eagerness, "Do you have something for me?" she asked, eying her visitor.
"I've heard rumors, unusual magic activity over in California, not any of the usual suspects, and it's being brushed off because it doesn't match with anything the old guard have seen before," explained Lester.
"Including my dad?" asked the young woman.
"Including your father," confirmed Lester as he leaned back against the wall and produced a pipe, snapping his fingers to summon a small flame and using it to light the tobacco before he took a puff. "It seems to me that this is the sort of thing you wanted me to tell you about, and something you can investigate on your own."
Zatanna shot up from her seat, "Yes! Thank you," she exclaimed happily, scooping up a few things from her vanity, "Where is it?"
"Fairport, on route 395, south of 58," returned Lester, "Be careful my dear, I do not wish to incur the wrath of your father if he finds out I was the one to tell you this."
Scooping up her jacket from the coat rack, Zatanna practically skipped over to the older Homo magi and wrapped him in a warm hug, "I will be," she assured before grabbing her top hat and placing it on her head, "Take care, Lester."
With that simple farewell, the Homo magi slipped out the backdoor and quickly exited the building, a little extra spring in her step as she went out to her waiting car in the marked parking space. Sliding into the fine leather seat, Zatanna removed her hat and set it on the only other seat in the car, thumb coming down on the big red starter button on the steering wheel. With an eagerness, the Ferrari F430s V8 came to life with a sonorous howl that only grew louder when Zatanna put her foot down and sped away in a plume of exhaust and tire smoke.
"This wacko's name is Paxton Fettel," began Betters as Oswalt arrived at the briefing room in Fort Irwin, to which Oswalt had been taken by helicopter. The central screen displayed the logo of First Encounter Assault Recon, a small group under the A.R.G.U.S. branch of the Department of Homeland Security. Originally a part of USSOCOM, F.E.A.R. was tasked to counter paranormal or supernatural threats, causing it to be shifted to ARGUS upon that organization's formation. The FEAR logo was replaced by a recording from a security camera, showing a gaunt man in a blood splattered red leather jacket, "He's the key. If we contain him, we contain the situation."
Oswalt eyed the man in question, watching him take bites out of some dead guys severed arm while a pair of soldiers stood sentry. "Fucker's got an appetite," noted the man to Justin's left, a buzz cut jarhead by the name of Spencer Jankowski.
His comment caused the fourth person in the beefing to shake her head. "I think he has an agenda," asserted Jin Sun-Kwon, who watched with intrigue instead of Jankowski's disgust. "It's not just recreational. He's getting something out of it," she postulated.
Jankowski, Jin, and Oswalt were all suited up for action, the two men in D-12 heavy combat armor, Kevlar vests with titanium plates sandwiched between the layers of fabric on both front and back. Pouches for items coated their midsections, and holsters were strapped to their legs, while their belts had loops to hold grenades and other assorted items. Jin had lighter B-6 class armor, with pouches meant to carry camera equipment, scientific instruments, and notepads, the protection comprised of mere Kevlar for her slight build in contrast to the broad-shouldered Jankowski and tall, lanky Oswalt.
There was a rustle as Jankowski shifted his weight, "Essential vitamins and nutrients?" he quipped.
His comment was ignored, "What's his story?" asked Jin, looking towards Betters.
The older man, with his FEAR emblazoned ballcap, leaned against the console. "Property of Armacham Technology Corporation. They're working on a military contract to develop an army of clones that respond to a psychic commander. Top secret of course," he added nonchalantly before crossing his arms. "Fettle is one of the commanders."
"You've gotta be fucking kidding me," cursed Jankowski, "This is why nobody takes us seriously. Military clones?"
"A full battalion of them," replied Betters. "Highly trained and heavily armed."
"A battalion!" parroted Jankowski, "What are we supposed to do against a thousand super soldiers?"
"Like I said, put Fettel down and this is over," returned Betters. "Fortunately, the whole point of the program is to give commanders firsthand knowledge of the battlefield without putting them in danger. That means we should be able to corner the bastard without having to wade through all those soldiers."
"How do we find him?" questioned Jin.
"Armacham planted a transmitter in his head, should lead us right to him," answered Betters.
Jankowski put his hands on his hips, but he was seemingly placated, slightly. "That's awfully convenient."
"Assuming it does what it's supposed to," agreed the team coordinator before turning to Justin. "What about you buddy, ready to go to work?"
This only served to anger Jankowski, "You're putting him in the field? Are you crazy? He just transferred in a week ago."
That was technically true, but that had only seen him get through the basic orientation before he'd gone on leave, a generous carryover date from his graduation from the Ranger School. "You've seen his training results," dismissed Betters, "His reflexes are totally off the charts. I think he can handle himself. He'll be our Point Man for this op."
"1000 to 2 odds are twice as good as 1000 to 1," deadpanned the Point Man as he cast an icy glance at his teammate.
"Whatever man, it's your call," grumbled Jankowski.
"Goddamn right it is," agreed Betters.
"Don't worry," assured Jin, "You'll be fine."
Betters cast one more glance around the group before standing up, "Let's roll."
"What's the first thing you remember?" the voice asked in harsh, raspy tones as a face came from the murk. Gaunt, with beady eyes and receding hairline, the man grinned viciously, his lips and chin covered in blood.
Zatanna was reeling from the sudden outburst of magic as she drew nearer to her destination, speeding down California's route 58, heads shaking on the Ferrari's leather wrapped wheel. It was raw and harsh, brutal even, but shockingly powerful.
There was a flash in her mind's eye as the vision came back with a vengeance, a harsh light shining down on her as another voice cried out, scared, terrified even. "No!" it was a woman's voice, shrill and shrieky, "Where are you taking him?"
But the only answer was a haughty man saying, "You will be a god among men."
"Point Man, you alright?" asked Betters from the drivers seat of the government sedan, shaking the FEAR operator from his thoughts.
"Fine," Justin assured from the passenger seat, taking a deep breath and shifting the MP5N submachine gun resting on his lap.
"Good," grunted the team commissioner as he steered the car through the run down streets, following the directions displayed on the computer mounted to the center console. The Point Man kept his eyes outside the vehicle, watching the many windows for signs of ambush, feeling too much like he was back in Karbala with the 502nd.
"We've tracked Fettel to an abandoned building just up ahead. No sign of enemy activity on the satellite, but don't take any chances," instructed Betters, steering the car into an alleyway and bringing the vehicle to a halt. He then pressed a finger to his headset, "Jankowski, you in position?"
"Just say the word," replied the other operative over the radio.
"Alright, move it out," ordered Betters. Kicking the sedan door open, the Point Man emerged out of the Crown Victoria, MP5 at the ready, thumb working the fire selector into the 'Automatic' setting as he looked around the dilapidated Auburn District. Briefed during the ride, Oswalt didn't speak as he moved in on the abandoned building where Fettel's transponder had last been detected. Even with the knowledge that the Hannibal-3 reconnaissance satellite in geosynchronous orbit hadn't detected any sign of hostile activity in the area, Justin moved cautiously through the alley and to the building, gently testing a door and making his way inside, SMG at the ready.
Moving through the dimly lit corridors under flicking and faded fluorescent lights, Oswalt eyed the darkened corners, filled with litter, snapping his gun towards any movement he saw, which was always the rats that infested the building. Coming to the next door, he gave that a gentle push, only for the metal to fall forwards, its hinges rusted through, until it slammed into the floor with a reverberating clang!
The shattering of glass had the MP5 up and trained on the doors, only for a grinning Jankowski to fill the gunsight. "Hey bro, what took ya' so long?" he asked, but Justin only answered by lowering his gun and glaring at him through his mask. After a moment of uncomfortable silence, the older FEAR operative said, "Try to find a way around, I'll clear this side."
Parting without another word, the Point Man activated the flashlight he'd fitted to his headset to help navigate some of the pitch-black back rooms until he came across a flight of stairs and ascended, gun sweeping as he went. A sudden sound had the FEAR operative whipping around, looking for the crying girl he was certain he heard, but found himself utterly alone. Pushing his unease aside, Oswalt pressed on, feeling a weight in the air around him that kept his pace slow until he saw a shape in the murk ahead. Bringing his light into the half-boarded doorway, Justin saw a glimpse of what looked like a leg just passing by.
Ducking under the plywood, the Point Man scanned the hall, but saw no sign of whoever passed by, but only the distorted, echoing voice that originated from farther ahead. "Why did you bring me here?" it asked. "Why did you bring me back?"
Unsettled but undeterred, the Point Man ascended another flight of stairs only to find a blocked doorway awaiting him at the landing. Letting out a low, guttural grunt as he slammed his fist into the wood, Oswalt was about to key his radio when Jankowski appeared on the far side, shoving the obstructing shelves clear and throwing the door open. "Come on," he beckoned before leading the Point Man to a door and nodding towards it, "Ready?"
Stacking up across from Jankowski, the Point Man checked his weapon before giving his fellow FEAR operator a nod. "Go!" said Spencer before kicking the door down and rushing inside, Justin hot on his heels. The world seemed to slow down for the Point Man, the adrenaline in his veins putting his reflexes into overdrive as he scanned the dilapidated room with his SMG, panning it across to watch as Jankowski seemingly turned to ash before his very eyes. But Oswalt fell back on his training and kept his momentum going forward, sweeping through into the next room even as the sense of unease came down on him once again, the haunting voice in his ear. "You were born here. In this place," it told Justin as he made his way through the white tiled hallway, "I was there."
Turning the corner, the Point Man found the corpse of a man, his wrists and ankles tied to the wooden chair he was slumped in, his neck torn open, blood covering his face and torso, while yet more dripped down to pool on the floor around. The gruesome sight knocked the weight in the air away, bringing Justin back to the moment with a deep breath, almost able to taste copper on his tongue when Jankowski appeared beside him, like nothing had happened. With a finger to his earpiece, the veteran FEAR operative was already calling in the situation. "Jin! We need you up here!"
The reply was instant, "I'm on my way."
"Looks like we're too late boss," reported Jankowski as he eyed the corpse, "Just leftovers."
"The transmitter signal's coming from nearby," returned Betters. "Fettel's gotta be around there somewhere."
Justin and Spencer exchanged looks, "I'll wait here for Jin," said the veteran, breaking the moment of silence. "You go take a look around," he said, nodding towards the one door that they hadn't been through yet.
Readying his weapon, the Point Man pressed on alone, through the door and up the stairs towards the roof when he saw a shadow pass through the crack in the door ahead. Face set in a snarl behind his balaclava, Oswalt charged through the door only to find the roof totally empty. Despite seeing nothing amiss, Justin couldn't shake the feeling that permeated the air around him, a weight that felt all too much like the room he'd just left. Sweeping across the rooftop, checking the corners for any sign of Fettel as he pressed on with his speedy and methodical sweep.
His eyes up, Justin passed through a narrow corridor, an AC unit on one side and water heater on the other, until an unexpected slickness under his boots brought him to an abrupt halt, causing him to look down and see the small red splotches at his feet. The spike of adrenaline caused the Point Man to snap his head up just in time to see the wooden board that slammed right into his face.
It was a trivial matter for a Homo magi as talented as Zatanna to feel the weight of magic in the air, untamed, angry magic that hit her as soon as she arrived at Fairport. Even if she couldn't, the seemingly abandoned streets the stage magician steered her Ferrari through was telling that something was deeply amiss in the mid-sized industrial city. Looking back at the looming skyscrapers in the city center, the young Homo magi/Human hybrid was following the magic. It drew her south, towards the shipping and utilities district that ran along the river that lent the city its name. Intersections and low rise buildings passed with growing monotony until she felt a sudden spike of magic right in front and she brought a heeled foot down on the brakes.
Screeching in protest, the brakes and tires worked to bring the F430 to a halt as Zatanna's eyes widened at the sight of small girl in the road ahead of her, long black hair and red dress illuminated by the car's headlamps. To the magician's horror, the girl didn't move, only standing still and staring at the oncoming car until the Ferrari blitzed through the spot where she was standing, Zatanna's eyes instinctively screwed shut as she braced for an impact that never came.
When the car came to a stop in the middle of the empty street, Zatanna twisted around in her seat to look back and see that there was no sign of the girl at all. The magic that had seemed so oppressive a moment ago had receded, and the magician took a moment to gather her wits and shake off the scare. Once her hand had stopped shaking, the gingerly guided the car into a parking lot a few blocks from a hospital, leaving it parked under a street light before getting out, making sure to leave a bit of extra magical security for the car before she took a breath and cast a spell.
"Wohs em eht cigam ecruos!" she commanded as she threw her hands out, and the mystic arts responded to her call, flickering bits of magic materializing around her gloved digits and surging off into the night, heading in the direction the nearby water treatment plant, according to the road signs. Unsure of what she might find, but bristling with anticipation, Zatanna set off across the street, completely unaware of what she was walking into.
Justin Oswalt's vision was swimming, and whispers were in his ears, his head throbbed as he lay immobile on the ground, letting out the slightest groan when he felt the weight of a boot pressing down on him. "The dead man's name was Charles Habegger," said a raspy voice as the Point Man saw the outline of a man in his vision, one with pale skin and a red jacket. "I remember him. But are the memories mine, or hers?" wondered the stranger aloud. Now Justin could see red spots on the man's hands and face before he continued, "It makes no difference. He deserved to die. They all deserve to die."
The FEAR operator opened his eyes enough to make out that the man above him was the gaunt figure of Paxton Fettel and tried to raise his head, only for it to spin as his eyes rolled back and he passed out yet again.
When he came around again, the whispers were silent and Fettel was gone, leaving Oswalt to collect his MP5 and listen to Betters over the commlink in his ear. "Come in, over. What's going on? I've lost Fettel's signal."
Before the Point Man could answer, another voice cut in. "Tomcat, this is Den Mother. I hope you aren't busy, we've got a situation down at the harbor."
"What kind of situation?" asked Betters.
"We've located those soldiers you've been looking for," was the answer, "But we're under orders not to engage until you guys reconnoiter."
It was time for First Encounter Assault Recon to live up to their name. The team leader acknowledged with a simple, "Understood."
"I've got two birds en route to your position. You should have a visual shortly."
"We'll be ready," assured Betters as Oswalt began the trek back to the rest of the team.
Coming down the stairs, he could hear the others conversing. "What do you think of the new Point Man?" asked Jankowski.
"Well, he's pretty cute," was the immediate reply from the technical officer.
That drew a grumble from the jarhead, "That's not what I meant."
"Just say what's on your mind Jankowski," instructed Jin as Justin silently descended the steps.
"I don't know," was the ambivalent response, "Something about him just feels a little… off."
All that got was a tisk from Jin, "The day I look to you as a judge of character is a sad day indeed."
"I'm serious," Spencer retorted, "It's something about his eyes. Like he's looking right through you."
"Maybe it's because you're one dimensional," deadpanned Jin as Oswalt appeared in the doorway.
Jankowksi saw him and cleared his throat, "Hey, back already? See anything?" he asked, and Justin merely shook his head as he eyed the dead man, wondering if he really was named Charles Habegger.
"You guys about done up there?" asked Betters, "Our night's just getting started."
Jin cast another look back at the corpse, "You boys run along, I'll be busy here for a while," she said, just as Justin could make out the faint sound of an approaching chopper.
"Breathe!" came the harsh command that overpowered Zatanna's consciousness, causing the magician to come to a stop, leaning against a boarded up building within sight of the South River Water Treatment Plant. She saw a vision in her mind, distinct from that coming from her eyes, stark white, a harsh light in her face in contrast to the murky darkness of the night. "Make her push!" shouted a man, followed by a pained scream as a man in a lab coat twitched in the corner of the white walled room.
"I've tried to forget," rasped the man she'd heard speak in other visions as a baby began to cry, "I've tried so hard to forget."
"These men are from FEAR," explained one Douglas Holliday, a captain in the US Army's SFOD-D, his unit happened to be training at Fort Irwin at the time and were called in to respond to the same situation FEAR was. Around the Black Hawk helicopter, the squad of Delta Force soldiers looked at Oswalt with wry glances and suppressed snickers, but the Point Man's red lensed balaclava remained impassive. "They are special attachments to our unit for the duration of this op. They will be on point. Their mission is to assess the nature of the threat; our job is to keep them alive," continued Holiday, addressing his Troopers. "Do not engage the enemy," he reminded, casting a stern glance around the chopper, "Remember, we are not dealing with ordinary bad guys. Team 1 will approach from the southwest, Team 2 from the north. Once our recon is complete, we will rendezvous and await further orders."
Looking out the open door, Oswalt saw the second chopper peel away and turn north, Jankowski attached to Team 2 on board that bird. The rest of the flight passed by in silence, and only when the nose of the UH-60 flared did the FEAR Point Man ready his MP5. Once the helicopter was in a hover, ropes were tossed out the doors, the crew chief waving the men inside out onto the ropes to descend the last 40 feet to the parking lot below. "Let's go fuck shit up!" shouted one eager Delta Force man as Oswalt slid down with the practiced motions honed by Ranger training.
"Den Mother, this is Little Bird, we're on the ground," reported the Sergeant in charge of this fire team.
"Copy that, proceed to first objective," was the reply from Control back at Fort Irwin as the ropes were disconnected and the Black Hawk's nose went down and the chopper pulled away.
Oswalt fell in with the disembarked Delta Force squad, eyes passing over the shipping containers surrounding them until they arrived at a gate blocking the path forward. "Since you're on point, go find a way to get this gate open. I'd send one of my boys, but I think we need a 'specialist' for this one," snickered the Delta operator.
Rolling his eyes behind his mask but otherwise ignoring the jab, the Point Man trotted towards a warehouse, working on the assumption that the second floor office visible through the window held the gate controls. Clicking his flashlight on, the FEAR Operator swept through, looking at the shelves and crates for anything amiss before his boots met the metal stairs and he ascended up to the second floor and made his way to the office. "Point Man to Tomcat, I've got another body in the office overlooking the gate at the Southwest Gate, break. Might want Jin to take a look, over."
"Tomcat copies all," answered Betters, "Stay on mission, Point Man, I'll send Jin in once the area's clear."
"Rog," replied Oswalt, carefully stepping around the pool of blood and up to the control panel, pulling the lever on it and looking out the window to see the gate below slide along its track. He waved down at the Delta Force operators, and one waved back before they surged into the yard below.
"Good job, head on back," instructed the SFOD-D team leader over the commlink, and the FEAR operative began to retrace his steps when he felt a chill in the air, the kind that cut through his armor and went all the way to the bone. "What the hell is that? Over there!" shouted the Delta Force team before there was a barrage of gunfire, and the Point Man picked up his pace, sprinting down the stairs to rejoin the team.
"Little Bird, what's your situation, over?" radioed Den Mother, "Little Bird, come in!"
But only silence answered them as Oswalt approached the gate, at least until Betters came over the radio, "If you can hear this, rendezvous with Jankowski. Repeat, rendezvous with Jankowski."
"Point Man copies, moving to rendezvous," he answered into his radio as he approached the gate, MP5 at the ready before he turned the corner and was met with a gruesome sight. The remains of the four Delta operators were strewn about, little more than charred skeletons left in pools of blood and viscera, equipment shredded, and even their weapons damaged beyond use in a display of carnage worse than anything the Point Man had ever seen. Tense and on alert, the Point Man's weapon swept across the lot until it fell on a splotch of red, almost formless as it seemed to fade until it vanished completely. "Point Man to Tomcat," tried Oswalt, "Tomcat, come in."
But all he got was static, and so, with a tight hold on his SMG, the FEAR operative pressed on, reaching the ajar door of the first building and easing it open, sweeping the room on the far side before stepping inside. There was a ragged cough that got Oswalt's attention, and he looked down to see a worker in coveralls and a hard hat on his hands in knees, one arm wrapped around his midsection in a vain effort to stem the bleeding, but the pool on the floor beneath him attested to its effectiveness. "Help me…" he pleaded, "They just started shooting."
There was little Oswalt could do, not when the man collapsed and went still by the time the FEAR operative was crouched beside him and checking for a pulse, finding none. Grimacing under his balaclava, Justin closed the man's eyes when he heard his radio crackle to life. "Echo Zero, report," instructed a gruff voice that the Point Man didn't recognize.
Moving towards the next door, Oswalt heard a burst of gunfire in the next room, "Control, Echo Zero, area secure," was the reply over the radio, but Oswalt could hear the voice echo off the walls. Rounding the corner, the Point Man was face to face with a Replica trooper in his bulky camo patterned equipment and cradling his XM-8 assault rifle as he stood over the corpses of more civilians.
Time seemed to slow for Oswalt, the Point Man always being quick with his hands as he snapped his SMG up and triggered a burst that tore through the clone's head. The body dropped amongst the civilians as the FEAR Operator stepped in and swung his gun left to a second Replica trooper who was trying to raise his gun, but wasn't fast enough before Oswalt's MP5 fired, a second long burst stitching across the man's armor, sending blood flying across the wall behind him as he spun around. Moving forward, Oswalt saw a shadow move in the glass of a small office and triggered the gun again, the barrage of automatic fire shattering the glass to reveal a third Replica behind it, and Oswalt walked his fire onto the clone until it was staggering from each impact, stopping only when the Point Man's magazine was empty and his gun fell silent.
Pulling the charging handle back and jamming it up into the notch to lock the bolt open on his gun, Oswalt ripped out the empty magazine when he saw shadows in the hallway ahead. "No response from Echo Zero, secure the area," intoned the same gruff voice over the radio, the only tip off the Point Man got of more Replica coming towards him. Sliding behind a crate, Justin drew one of his H USP pistols from the holster on his right leg and held his nerve, "Man down," called one of the troopers before Oswalt stood up, firing his USP at the first man. The two Replica panicked, dashing for whatever cover they could find, spraying wildly in Oswalt's direction. The FEAR operator ducked down as the bullets flew past.
Seizing the moment, Oswalt dashed forwards, firing more shots to keep their heads down, but one stood up. Taking aim with his pistol, Justin found his mark and blood sprayed from the clone as .45 caliber slugs punched holes in him until he was within arm's reach. Grabbing the Replica's gun and shoving it away, Justin pressed his pistol into the clone's belly and fired twice before the slide locked back on an empty mag. Twisting his hand around, Justin pulled out his second USP and flicked it up to fire a round into its head, sending blood and brain matter spraying across the wall and other Replica.
While the first one dropped to the floor, Oswalt slid to the second one, kicking the knees out from under it and scrambling back to his own feet. While the Replica got back to his knees, the Point Man jumped up perform a spin kick that snapped the clone's head back and sent him reeling, allowing Oswalt to level his pistol and put a pair of shots through its forehead.
When the echo of the gunshot died, Oswalt reloaded his weapons, "Five down, nine ninety-five to go."
"Is that gunfire?" questioned Zatanna as she entered a side gate of the South River Water Treatment Plant, "Why is there gunfire?" The magician could make out the distant echo and paused to ponder what was happening. There was no sign of police, or anyone for that matter except for the helicopters that had flown by half an hour ago, the entire facility seemed abandoned, and in a hurry. Lights were still on, though some flickered, and there were cars in their designated parking spots as Zatanna heard another few sporadic bursts of gunfire ahead of her, but that was the same direction her spell was taking her, so she pressed on regardless.
The first sign of life was an armored box van, doors left open beside a building entrance, the door half off its hinges. Cautiously, the half Homo magi passed through the door, "Oh god," she breathed as she stared down at the corpse in the corner, a look of surprise permanently etched on the man's pale face as he lay in a pool of his own blood. Zatanna dismissed the idea that magic had been responsible for this man's death, not when there were a half dozen bullet holes in him and even more brass shell casings around her feet.
Staggering out of the corridor while trying to get ahold of herself, the Magician's mind raced, trying to reconcile the gruesome scene behind her with the magic she could sense lingering in the air. "What in the world have I gotten myself into?" she wondered aloud, "No, focus Z, you wanted action, and you've got it, you can do this."
Mentally reciting spells she might need, the Magician opened the door into the next room and found a small office, seeing the desktop computer still on and a blinking desk phone alongside a photograph of a family. Doing a double take, Zatanna recognized the man in the photo as the one in the hallway behind her and felt a pang of emotion, gloved fists tightening before a finger came out to play the message on the phone. "You have one new message," droned the machine before it automatically played, "Jeff, this is Chet in accounting, uh, nobody seems to know what's going on but we've been hearing a lot of loud noises. Have you guys heard anything over there?" asked a male voice rife with anxiety before the machine announced, "End messages."
After a quick look over the books on the shelf to see if there was something more to this place than met the eye, the Magician moved to the room's other door, opening it only to be met with near total darkness. "Tel ereht eb thgil!" Commanded Zatanna, and at once the fluorescent bulbs in the ceiling answered her call, revealing a warehouse space filled with boxes and a pair of large, half open garage doors.
"Light, there! Check it!" commanded a gruff voice outside, causing Zatara's head to snap to the half open door as she heard the sound of heavy bootfalls approaching, multiple sets.
Mind picturing the corpse she had seen just moments ago, the Magician hesitated, feet planted where she stood. It was only when she saw the shiny black combat boots and camouflaged trousers that she was able to act, her mind defaulting to a common spell for her stage shows. "Etativel!" she whispered before being whisked up about six feet before the Magician came to a stop, hanging in mid-air as she got her bearings. Shifting her weight, she floated over to a corner to watch the figures come under the garage door and get a good look at them.
There were four, all identical, medium height, athletic build, with heavy black Kevlar vests and helmets with the label 'Mark VI' emblazoned on the side. Camouflage pants went down to black combat boots, and all four carried guns that swept across the warehouse, Zatanna watching with baited breath, ready to cast a quick spell if she was spotted. "Searching!" announced one of the soldiers in a gruff voice as three advanced into the warehouse, splitting up to cover the aisles while the fourth maintained a vigilant watch at the door under careful observation from Zatanna.
The soldier stood there in silent vigil, gun at the ready making sweeps across the warehouse with robotic consistency that unnerved her, but didn't deter her from leaning forwards and drifting closer. Just as she drew near, the soldier looked down and saw the shadow Zatanna cast on the ground and spun around, trying to bring his rifle to bear. Seeing her life flash before her eyes, the half Homo magi reflexively yelped, "Erif ssik!"
A spit of flame erupted from her lips and washed over the soldier, taking hold of his clothes and spreading quickly as he dropped his gun and waved his arms in an attempt to smother the magical fire. Diving back to the ground alongside the fatigued soldier, Zatanna flicked her hands out, shouting, "Ginknil sgnir!" Magical rings flickered into existence around the burning soldier, both dousing the flames and restraining him so that he toppled over.
While he writhed on the ground, Zatanna turned to the rest of the soldiers, her eyes widening as she saw the other three men arrayed against her. "Contact! Light 'em up!" snarled one of the soldiers, prompting the Magician to sprint away, ducking behind a forklift just before bullets ripped through the air, the report of the gunfire echoing off the walls and causing Zatanna to wince while she plugged her ears and tried to think.
If for no other reason than to silence the racket, Zatanna shouted over the din, "Sung maj!" and was met with a relieving silence as the firing weapons malfunctioned. Poking her head up, the Magician saw the soldiers struggling with their weapons before noticing the containers that were packed in the space. "Setarc llaf ffo eht sevlehs!" shouted the woman, prompting the boxes to rock on their perches before tumbling down to the floor below.
There were screams and grunts from the soldiers as the stored items rained down on them, Zatanna watching as they were crushed by the weight of stuff her magic had brought down, except for one, who dove forwards and clear of the debris, gun still in his hand. He pulled on some part of it, the metallic clatter of it functioning once more reaching Zatanna's ear as she cast another spell. "Teppup restam!" she enunciated, her hands held before her as if she was guiding a marionette, the trembling in her extremities matched by the way the afflicted soldier twitched under her temporary control. Twisting one hand to turn him away from her, Zatanna curled a finger, causing the man to squeeze the trigger, firing his rifle until its ammunition was depleted.
But her control could only last for so long, and the soldier shook off his puppet strings and dropped his rifle, looking down to draw his pistol, but Zatanna was quicker. "Thgiarts cigam," she snapped, sending a simple burst of energy forward that slammed into the trooper, knocking him off his feet and back into the fallen boxes where he lay still.
Catching her breath, the Magician regained her bearings and pressed on her original path, out the door the soldiers had come in and into a lot filled with shipping containers. About to cast another spell to take her to the magic source, Zatanna was interrupted when she saw a flash of movement as a door flew open and more of these identically equipped soldiers emerged. Ducking behind one of the shipping containers, the Magician heard one speak with the same voice as the others. "Contact lost with Echo-4, conduct a sweep."
"Roger," answered one of the soldiers with the same rough tones, Zatanna peeking out to watch the group split up into pairs, three of them. One pair came in her direction, causing the Magician to look for somewhere to hide.
"Etativel!" she said, her magic propelling her upwards enough so she could clamber atop the container, giving her a better view of the yard. "Think Z," she ground out, head darting around before she pressed her palms together and began an incantation. Purple energy swirled around her hands as she began to chant, "Rewop fo gicam, rewsna ym llac! Eb delennahc hguorht em dna…."
"There, open fire!" called one of the soldiers, giving Zatanna just enough warning to drop down before bullets tore through the air above her, and she was quick to roll off the edge of the container, swinging her legs down to break her fall. Jumping up, the Magician darted to the end of the container in search of a haven when she heard one of the soldiers shout, "Grenade!"
Eyes widening, Zatanna saw the baseball sized explosive bounce across the ground in front of her a second later as she turned around and tried to run, but not before the grenade went off. The shockwave slammed into her back, knocking her off her feet and the air from her lungs, ears ringing fiercely. Pushing herself up to her feet and coughing on the dust that filled the air, the half Homo magi staggered forward when she saw the shadows of approaching soldiers cast on the ground. Managing to get in a breath, she knew she only had time for one spell and hastily shouted, "Etaetc a dleihs dnuora em!"
Encased in a shimmering purple sphere, Zatanna watched as a pair of the soldiers came around the corner and fired at her, straining as she felt the bullets slam into her defense, energy rippling from every impact. Looking back the other way, two more soldiers appeared, boxing Zatanna between the containers and leaving her nowhere to go as more gunfire battered the barrier until she was baring her teeth, eyes screwed shut as she fought to maintain her spell.
Yet more gunfire erupted, but the hammering on her ears was drowned out by the closer weapons, but then she heard it again, closer, and turned to see two of the soldiers get cut down. Blinking, Zatanna refocused on the two remaining foes, turning to face them down and eager to go on the offensive. "Kconk meht ffo rieht teef!" she shouted, channeling the magic of her barrier into a wall that she pushed at the two soldiers, sending them ragdolling back into the chain link fence behind them.
Before she could take a step either way, more gunfire erupted, blood exploding out of one of the soldiers as he flopped on the concrete while the other got to his feet, his gun no longer aimed at the woman. It fired, muzzle flash illuminating the figure that appeared to be ducking under the stream of fire before he swung his own gun in an uppercut that caught the enemy soldier in the arms and knocked off his aim. The new arrival sprang up into the air, feet lashing out in a pair of kicks that caught the soldier in the chin and throat, leaving him a still lump on the ground.
This man was clearly different than the rest, he was taller than the camouflaged soldiers, and with a leaner build, wearing a sleek tan vest over a black shirt, and black pads on his elbows and knees with tan pants, he wasn't dressed like them either, even if he was armed. Most noticeable to Zatanna as he looked down at the dead men was the word 'FEAR' stamped across the back of his vest in white block letters.
"Appreciate the help," voiced Zatanna, watching as the man whipped around faster than she thought possible, a pistol in his right hand and pointed at her as she held her hands out placatingly. "Hey, it's alright, I'm not with them. I'm…."
"Zatanna," he finished, voice calm as he lowered his gun, "I know. I was at your show today." Zatanna scrutinized him further, but with red tinted goggles covering his eyes and face otherwise obscured by a featureless black mask, there was no hope of recognizing him. "What's a Vegas show magician doing all the way out here?"
"I'm a magician, trying to find the source of the magic here," she replied with a straight face.
There was a low bark of laughter, "It's not magic, it's a madman," he muttered lowly. After shaking his head, the man looked back at her, "You need to leave, it's not safe. There are a lot more of these guys."
"No chance," retorted Zatanna, pressing forwards. "There's magic here, powerful magic," insisted the woman, jamming a finger against the man's armor. "I," she continued, pointing back at herself, "Am going to find out what it is, it's clearly dangerous," she said, gesturing towards the dead bodies. "Which means it has to be stopped, and that," said the magician as she tapped his gun, "Isn't going to do it." With that, she turned on her heel and strode to the center of the container yard.
"Not so fast," intoned the man, a gloved hand wrapping around her arm to spin her back and face him, daggers coming from her eyes. "We can't have civilians running around here, this is an active US Military operation."
"Is that who you're with? The army?" asked Zatanna.
The man shook his head, "No, FEAR. First Encounter Assault Recon," he answered, explaining the lettering on his back. "I'm the team's Point Man."
"Right…" drawled the magician, "And where is your team?"
"Dead," he replied, almost emotionless.
Zatanna frowned, "I'm sorry," she said, unsure of what else to say, "Did these soldiers kill them?"
"No," returned the Point Man with a small shake of his head, "The Replica didn't get them. Something else did."
Zatanna didn't miss the slight change in his tone and pressed him, "Something magical?" The only answer from the Point Man was silence, but it was answer enough. "Then I'm right, and you need my help."
"God damnit," he muttered lowly, "Fine, but you will…" he began, but didn't finish. There was a bright light to Zatanna's right, and by the time she turned her head to see the beams of headlights barreling towards them, the Point Man was already in motion, an arm around her waist and yanking her off her feet as he threw them both behind a pallet loaded with bags of cement. The Magician saw an armored truck like the one she'd seen before come crashing through the fence just before they were behind the barrier.
"A little warning next time," she deadpanned as she rolled off the man and pressed her back to the cement as she heard the doors of the truck open and the sound of men jumping out of the vehicle. Looking back to the Point Man, Zatanna saw him looking down at his gun before tossing it away, causing her eyebrow to go up, "Why'd you do that?"
"I'm out," he grunted, head turning to look at a fallen Replica soldier and his rifle, "Stay here."
"Wait," snapped the Magician, hand grabbing the FEAR operator's armored shoulder, keeping him behind the pallet. Extending her other hand towards the weapon, she closed her eyes and chanted, "Etativel taht nug ot em!"
When Zatanna's eyes opened, she saw the rifle floating through the air towards her, before the Point Man snatched it out of the air. Yanking out the magazine to take peek at it before sticking back inside the gun and pulling back on the charging handle before, seemingly satisfied, the Point Man gave Zatanna a nod. He stood up, shouldering the weapon and firing single shots at the Replica.
Still crouched down, the Magician was looking up at him, wincing at the noise of the gunfire before she saw him duck and start to roll out from behind the pallet just before bullets ripped through the air. Seeing that her newfound ally was caught in the open, Zatanna cast a spell to aid him. "Ekoms dna srorrim… Etaerc tniop nam snoisulli!"
Magical copies of the FEAR operator appeared all around the original, identical in every way except the lack of corporeal matter. They moved as one for a moment, heads looking left and right before they surged towards the Replica soldiers, Zatanna slipping out in the chaos to dash behind a container. The Replica reacted by firing at the oncoming illusions, each one dissipating as bullets passed through it, but the distraction was enough to get the real Point Man around to their flank before he fired his weapon again, a burst cutting through one Replica, the bullets sending blood flying as they tore through artificial flesh and sparking when they struck the armored truck and bounced off.
The others all reacted by turning and running, "Fall back!" shouted one, all of them spraying automatic fire back across the yard, causing both Zatanna and the Point Man to duck behind their different containers and allowing the Replica to regroup. Peeking out, the Magician saw the FEAR operator leaning around the corner, rifle up, when one of the enemy soldiers shouted, "Grenade out!"
He then stepped out from behind the truck, arm coming forward with the familiar sphere in hand, only as soon as it came out, the Point Man fired, his single shot striking the explosive and detonating it in the midst of the Replica. Dust and bodies flew in every direction, and Zatanna thought she saw an arm, still gushing blood, flip off into the distance while the echo subsided. After a moment of silence, she felt safe enough to advance, the Point Man moving ahead to the truck, but lowering his rifle as soon as he rounded the corner.
Coming alongside, Zatanna saw why, as it was clear that none of the Replica had survived the close range blast, but while the Point Man began to salvage what equipment he could from the fallen soldiers, the Magician mentally replayed what just happen, her mouth falling open, "Did you just…."
The Point Man looked up with his blank mask and glasses, but Zatanna couldn't finish her query. Still, the man gave a small shrug and said, "It's all in the reflexes."
Closing Notes: That will do it for this chapter, expect updates to this about once a month (ish). Hope you enjoyed, comment if you have something to say.
Stay Frosty, Misfit Delta out.
