With a shudder, the Dominion slammed back into realspace. In the cruiser’s bowels, Stormtroopers barely paid it mind. Most went back to what they’d been doing; smoking, playing cards, buffing their armor or checking their gear. A few, however, had a other things to worry about.

Garryll Gates stood in an auxiliary hangar of the huge craft as the small transport scooted through the field generators. The transport landed heavily, and the ramp descended almost immediately. Two soldiers in matte black armor walked briskly down the ramp, rifles slung and still kitted up. They held their helmets under their arms.

One face was far more familiar than the other, but Gates remembered both from their briefing, barely more than forty-eight hours ago. Havock stepped forwards.

“Where’s the rest of the team, Whiskey?” she asked. “Dead?”

“Not last we saw,” the ARC Commander replied. “Orr sent us out of there when the situation went to hell.”

“Well, we better get you debriefed then. No time to lose, if the emergency pulse you sent was telling us about this,” Gates said, then turned to the squad of Stormtroopers they’d brought as guards. “Briefing room one, sergeant.”

“Roger that, sir. Corporal, you have the guard.”

The other ARC trooper, the man who called himself ‘The Duke,’ had slipped into and back out of the transport without Gates spotting him, and had a half-dozen odd datapads in his hands. The two Army officers wheeled about and led the ARCs deeper into the embrace of the Imperial cruiser.

*** *** *** *** ***

Gates leaned back, cursing softly. Havock nodded in agreement. “This is big. I’m glad we brought Phoenix. We need to figure out what the hell is going on here.”

Havock stabbed at a button in front of her. “Get me the squad leaders in here.”

Gates threw a suggestion into the mic. “And get a platoon leader from the shipboard Stormies in here, too.”

One by one, the asked-for soldiers appeaered; Eclipse’s leader, Second Lieutenant Skarr arrived first. The newly-elevated Corporal Crest of Blackjack entered discussing something with the Raiders squad leader, Sergeant First Class Jaenna Caldwin. The last arrival was an unfamiliar face, a scarred and middle-aged man with lieutenant’s bars; his chest label said ‘Cortez.’

“Phoenix. Good to see you all again,” Gates said in greetings. “I wish I could greet you under better circumstances, but as usual, we’re going to be calling upon you to be the tip of the spear.”

He clicked a button on the table, and for the second time that week, the planet of Shumongi rose before him. “This is the planet we’re currently in-system of. We’re concerned with a facility in the mountainous region.”

The hologram zoomed in, highlighting a sprawling facility.

“Intelligence says this is a base owned by the organization ‘Flail.’ ARC troopers have investigated, and that’s true. It’s also home to some pretty screwed up shit,” Gates said carefully. “Most of the ARC squad we sent in has not returned. Two-thirds of it, to be exact. We’re going in and getting them out, and we’re going to finish their mission, and, if the facility poses a threat, we take it out.”

“What kind of opposition are we facing, here?” Skarr asked.

“ARC says that Flail forces pulled out when the containment alarms went off, but if they return, they’re basically a private military company. Training, weapons, gear; they’ve got it.”

“Did you say ‘containment?’ What was being contained?” Crest asked.

“These,” Gates said, and pressed another button. A helmet-cam view of one of the ARCs - the ID in the lower corner said ‘Duke’ - floated by hologram. Gunfire spat from the rifle that was held before the view, and its targets -

“Gods,” muttered Cortez, making a brief motion with his hands. “What are those things?”

“We don’t know,” Gates said simply as Duke’s shots slammed into the shambling human-sized creature in front of him. “But they’re persistent and tall in numbers. Their vision is...lacking, but they can hear pretty damn well.”

The creature rose in the cam, but got put down with another shot. The Duke ran forwards and kicked it in the neck on his way past.

“So how are we going to play this?” Jaenna asked, leaning back in her seat.

“We have three goals: the ARCs, figuring out what the hell is going on here, and securing the facility. One squad will have each goal, and Cortez’s forces will secure secondary objectives, Gates said, and flipped the hologram back to imaging of the facility.

“Blackjack: you will insert via the roof; we need control of this facility. That means that we need control of their command center. That’s your job. Secure the center and get our techs eyes and ears.”

Gates shifted to a different part of the facility. “Eclipse: you’ll be following in the ARCs’ steps, so you’ll enter here or here and get into the hot labs. ARC didn’t get a good look at them, so you need to do the honors. Expect a lot of resistance once the lockdown is lifted.”

The Tactical Officer shifted the view again. “Raiders: we need to get the ARCs back. Orr said he’d take them into the bowels of the facility, where they’d have room to play hide-and-seek with these things. You need to get down into the storage facilities and find them, and prep them to get out.”

“Cortez, I want you to send some squads to secure parts of the facility along Phoenix’s routes. Insert with the Stormtroopers, but you’ll break off and take defensive positions and explore the facility. I also want your guys to lift the lockdown. That’ll give us free rein of the facility.”

The SLs seemed in agreement. “Got it? Good. Transports are being prepped right now. We deploy in an hour. Let’s do this.”

OOC:

Blackjack: You will insert via the roof, before several of Cortez’s squads. Secure the command center.

ARC trooper intelligence suggests most of the mutants are trapped by the lockdown. It is unlikely you will face too many before Cortez’s squads raise it.

The lockdown will be raised on Wednesday, July 4 at or after 11 PM EST. Look out for a post from me then.

Anival felt out of place in the squad. For one he was the most senior in rank, and the new member. He knew rank meant so much, and so little. He was also probably one of the most seasoned troopers. The operations of the squad were a mystery, he didn’t know who was the trigger-happy moron, or the calm leader, or even the ones who he could trust to have his flank. On top of that, they were expected to succeed where an ARC squad had failed.

A long, smooth exhale left Anivals mouth, and came out like a rasp with the helmet's filters.  The briefing had been quick, too quick; to Anival it had seemed rushed. He was used to Skarr’s long and detailed sermons. The squad knew what he knew, even if it meant the success of the mission. To Skarr, a mission was achieved when the squad came home alive.

“Alright team”, it was Crest.  “Let’s do this. Everyone, out.”

The squad dropped lines, and rappelled down. The wind buffeted a trooper who nearly hit someone. They landed quickly, Anival unclipped and trained his weapon at nothing, holding it up, he quickly scanned the roof with various filters, and satisfied it was clear, he looked behind him.  The sight that greeted him was almost comical. A trooper was trying to undo his hook, and was struggling; again he sighed and helped the poor guy out. On the plus side, he looked bad ass in red armor.

Psycho and Crest moved towards a door near a giant vent.  The door was white and clean, as expected on an installation such as the one they were on. A long dent marred its otherwise symmetrical beauty. Anival silently wondered what could have made the dent. He murmured a prayer, to whom, he didn’t know and fallowed the rest of the squad.

“Jalmund, clear the door.” That was his name, the trooper who had gotten stuck. Jalmund.

The trooper dutifully obeyed his order. One of the most hated orders. It was Anival’s own saying, one that had been coined in the academy. “First in, first down.” Mainly, because when a trooper went in first, he was either killed, or knocked down by the awaiting enemy.

“Clear as far as I can see.”

“What the visual range?”

“Normal, no signs of any hostiles, friendlies, or otherwise.”

“Copy, we’re going in.”

“Roger.”

“Anival take the rear, rest of you fallow, Psycho, you take point.”

The squad lined up and moved forward. Anival silently cursed Crest, he hated the rear almost as much as he hated going into an unsecured building first. The staircase was dark, emergency lights bathed the wall in a crimson that almost mimicked blood. There were some spots were Anival double checked to make sure it wasn’t blood. Why did they have to choose red for emergency lighting? Anival switched to his infrared filter, the eeriness of the emergency lighting was instantly gone.

Anival felt like complaining, like voicing his distaste for being moved on such short notice, and not even giving him a chance to get to know, and like, or dislike the men around him.  He looked around him one more time, and took in the squad. Yup, he thought to himself, this is going to be one long mission. With that last thought the squad descended into the long trek down. The stairs seemed to move every step and get longer, was it just a trick of the light? Unsure of what they would find, or what, would find them. As it turned out, they were found first.

The briefing played in Crest’s mind in an infinite loop. He had seen the man who went by “Duke” pour blaster shots into those....creatures, and they had just shrugged off their losses and push forward. Gates had said that their vision was lacking but that their hearing was good. There had to be a weakness, but, for all the mental strain, there was nearly nothing to show for it. However, one thing was out of the window—vents. He was not going to risk the newer, clumsier troopers making noises and attracting the creatures.

Crest moved mechanically, attempting to establish as normal of a routine as possible. His E-45 swept the corners, double-checking what Blackjack’s —his— troopers had already confirmed. They were alone for now. His trademark sniper rifle was slung across his back, waiting for the moment where Crest would temporarily store the squad leader role and become the sharpshooter again.

The red emergency lighting heightened the fear of the unknown. The dark shadows threatened the squad leader with imaginary monsters leaping out suddenly, while luring the sharpshooter with false promises of safety and invisibility. The squad leader won, if only because the fear would keep him on his toes and therefore alert to any threats to his squad.

“This is First Squad. We are lifting the lockdown. Be ready.”

Crest motioned his squad to stop on the staircase. With the impending threat looming over them, Crest’s mind started gearing itself towards their safety. Garryll’s statement about the mutant’s excellent hearing came to mind, and Crest knew what needed to be done.

“Hand signals and comms only from here on out. Do not use your external speakers unless absolutely necessary.”

Even as Crest finished the last part of his order, the emergency lights shut off, and flickering normal lights came on. The majority of the shadows disappeared as the more abundant regular lighting, albeit flickering, came on; it also revealed two of the misshapen creatures on a landing below them. The squad’s training—and panic—kicked in, and they coated the creatures in blaster bolts. Suffering about fifteen blaster bolts apiece, the grotesque mutants dropped to ground, still smoking slightly. Crest signaled a brief respite and consulted the map. They would have to go one floor down and then take a straight hallway all the way to the command room, a good hundred-meter dash.

Crest motioned the squad forward slowly. Each trooper moved carefully and slowly. It took them less than thirty seconds to reach their floor. Crest motioned a trooper—Jack Irillik, a new transfer—forward and signaled for him to enter.

The door slid open, and the trooper entered. Psycho was right on his heels. Crest waited half a second before beginning to motion the rest of squad in. They were cut off by Psycho and the new trooper easing back out. As Jack slid the door shut, Crest spoke over the squad comm channel.

“What?”

Psycho replied, “Fifty or so of them.” There was no need to say who ‘they’ were.

“In the room?”

“In the hallway, right before the command center.”

“Did they notice you two?”

“I don’t think so... Is there another way into the command room?”

“No. Only one door and one hallway, makes it easier to protect the command center.”

A moment’s pause came over them.

“Can we blow off the roof?”

The squad instinctively turned toward the speaker, Anival. Crest really appreciated having some veteran in the squad. A squad composed solely of green troopers had only one real purpose: be the meat that goes through the meat grinder. Anival, however, was a nice bastion of experience. More importantly, the man was skilled.

Crest responded, “If we pool our explosives, probably. There’ll be a lot of rubble to clear away, but a command center with rubble is better than no command center. Let’s do it. We’ll go up one floor and position ourselves over the command center. Nearly same layout, except no command center. It’s a lounge instead and has a few other hallways connecting to it.”

At that moment, a huge dent in the door appeared with a bang! The squad stared dumbfounded at the dent, before their minds came to them.

Crest reinforced their course of action with a single word command, “Run!”

Velius ran with his squad down the hall. The sound of the remaining mutants charging through the hall behind them. His squad members firing their blasters back at the horde as they ran. Velius did the same as he tried not to trip. The stray shots would hit a mutant but it would just keep running, like the plasma was an irritating insect. Velius continued to shoot and run until he had to reload. This is when Velius devoted all his energy on running and following orders. He had seen what the pistol did to one of those things, nothing. So they ran until a large metal door came into sight.

“Everyone, into the room.” Crest barked over the com. “We need to get ourselves together.”

Velius thought this sounded like a great idea so he hauled it to the door but found himself last into the room.

“Velius,” Psycho said as Velius stumbled through the open door. “Close the door when you come through.” Velius slammed the door shut second he was out of the stair well but wasn't sure the door was going to hold very well. The door seemed strong, but he had already seem these creatures bust through an even larger door. Velius decided that he would just have to trust it and take this danger free second to reload.

Crest stood in the middle of the room looking around as everybody reloaded. The room was a large rectangle with the main door at one end and a small office at the other. On the left hand wall of the room stood a door leading to a small hallway. Crest walked over to the door and looked down the hallway. Then he turned and addressed the shaking squad.

“Ok men, it looks like we have a way out of here. Through that door is a small hall the looks to lead to a chain of small offices. If my guess is right, these offices will lead us back to the stairs to the command room.” Crest turned to Psycho. “Does this sound like a good idea? We will have be very quiet to make it around the horde.

Psycho thought for a second then nodded. “Yes, I think it's a good idea but it's risky.”

Crest looked at the door which at any second fly open and release a wave of mutants. “Right now, I think it's our best bet. Ok, everybody, get ready to move. Same rules as before, only coms and hand signals. Everyone ready?” A number of squad gave and “OK” with their hands and a few said yes. Velius was one of the verbal participants. 

“Here goes nothing.” Velius heard some one mutter over the com as the squad slowly walked through the abandoned cubical. The sound of the creatures trying to break down the door rung through the empty office.

“The sound of the door should make it harder for them to hear us.” Velius whispered over the com.

Crest nodded. ”But that doesn't mean we shouldn't be quiet.”

The squad continued to make their way through the office until they came to the a dead end and a door.
Psycho motioned for everyone to stop as he slowly opened the door. Velius strained from the back of the group to see out the door. Across the hall was the stairwell and about 3 mutants. Psycho quietly closed the door and turned to Crest.

“It looks like the mutants are about to break through the door but there are a few stranglers. What do you say we do?”

“I say we wait for them to break down the door and rush into the room while we make our way across the hall, taking out any opposition.” Psycho nodded then looked at the quiet squad in front of him.

“We've been very quiet this “trip”.” Psycho said with unmistakable touch of joy. “Does somebody who isn't Crest and myself want to lead the charge to the stairs.

The squad sat in silence until Velius in the back raised his hand.

“I will sir.” Velius responded. A new found courage raised from deep with in him.

“Ok, V, your up. Get us across the hall.”

Velius slowly made his way through the group to the door where he opened it and looked out through the crack in the door. Just as he did this the horde broke down the metal door holding them at bay and they slowly flowed in. It took about 30 seconds for the entire horde to make it into the room and as soon as they were all in Velius decided it was time to go.

“Ok, the creatures are all in. Let's go.” Velius fully opened the door and crouch-walked into the hallway. There was only 2 mutants let in the hall when he exited. Both of them in sync turned and growled at Velius. Raising his blaster, Velius took aim at the closest one's he head and sent a bolt flying straight into it's forehead and the beast looked at the ceiling and fell onto it's back. The new transfer trooper, Anival, sent a second shot into the head of the other mutant and it fell limp onto the ground. The rest of the squad quickly made their way onto the stairs where it was assumed they had left the problem behind, or had they...

Onboard the Dominion, the tactical screen was flashing a dozen different colors. Indicators rapidly moved to and fro. The Stormtrooper officers and two ARCs pointed at various indicators occasionally and had something to say.

Cortez was orchestrating his squads to cover one another like a master. “Third squad: withdraw thirty meters and cover eighth squad’s retreat.”

The indicator for the named squads converged, flashing to show that they were in combat. “These damn things are a hell of a lot bigger than what was in the briefing, sir!” crackled the comm from one of the squads, the voice on the link gifted a background of heavy laser fire.

“Keep at it, men,” Cortez replied calmly. “We must hold the line.”

Gates raised an eyebrow at the two ARCs. “Are you sure these creatures hadn’t been here when you were down there?”

“Aye,” the Duke grumbled. “Damage to the facility during our insertion or the lockdown lifting must have caused the other experiments to be released; you’ve seen our helmet feeds. We didn’t see anything like these creatures the squads are talking about.”

Two of the squads were closing in on their objectives; Blackjack and Eclipse. Raiders had gone too deep into the facility for the scanners to pick up on anymore.

Gates clicked a pair of controls, and the display tracked the two squads. A few notes flickered under them, detailing their second objectives. He clicked open the comm channels to the two squads.

*** *** ***

“Blackjack,” Gates spoke into the link. “This is command. Have you secured the command center?”

“Yes sir,” crackled back the voice of Blackjack’s squad leader, Crest.

“Good. Lock it up and get down three levels; ARC squad never completed their final objective, hacking into the data mainframe to get more intel on Flail. We need to dive in and grab what we can while we’re here, so you’re up.”

“Roger that, sir.”

“Good luck and godspeed, ‘jacks.”

OOC:

The ARCs were detected before they could get to the data mainframe and access it. You have now been assigned this task: get to the data mainframe, several levels below you, and access it.

Crest almost smiled at Psycho’s disbelief at what he was being told to do. Almost. However, Crest was double-checking his sniper rifle, knowing that what he was about to attempt was dangerous, stupid, and likely to get him killed. Nevertheless, he was not going to leave his Assistant Squad Leader out there. Perhaps if it was someone else, he might have waited for the shooting to start, and then calmly sniped the outpost. It was not that he held illusions that no one would ever die under his command. Rather, it was the fact that he needed somebody to be able to step in and take over if he died on this insane mission from Army High Command. That, and the fact that he counted the hulking piece of mobile artillery as a friend, left no choice in his mind about what he was about to do.

He sighed as he heard Psycho give the snarky reply Crest had given him and the subsequent high-pitched shout of disbelief from the guard, and he knew that this was the moment he had been waiting for. He threw himself into a dive and watched carefully as the crosshairs arced in a gentle curve towards the head of the unfortunate guard who was handing out orders. As the crosshairs came to a point high above and a bit to the side of the guard’s head, he fired, knowing that by the time the bullet actually left the barrel, it would be lined up close enough to startle, if not kill, the guard.

Crest turned out to be lucky, and the bullet smacked into the forehead of the guard, dropping him dead before he ever realized what was happening. Crest, taking the greatest amount of care he could to make sure his sniper rifle was not damaged, rolled on through the dive. In the confusion that followed, the rest of the squad came around the bend as Crest had planned and unleashed a devastating barrage of fire. In a few moments, the one-way firefight was over.

Crest came to his feet and saw that Psycho was amazed at what Crest had just accomplished. Crest thought about telling Psycho that it had been a lucky shot and that he had not actually planned to kill the guard, but then he rejected the idea. Psycho could stand to be a bit amazed at his friend and squad leader.

All business again, Crest ordered the squad to move into the elevator shaft, after quickly securing the few explosives and power cells the dead guards had had. Thankfully, the elevator was below them, meaning that there was a rope they could rappel down. Crest ordered Velius and Psycho, in that order, down the shaft three floors. Velius was there because he was a scout, and Psycho was there because Crest wanted at least somebody to be able to command down there. As he calmly directed traffic down the shaft, he became aware of the soft thuk-thuk of feet that were approaching them. Crest paused a moment to look at his remaining squad. There were only three of them, including Crest.

“GET GOING!” Crest shouted into the comms, spurring the two troopers that were left into action. One of them jumped into the shaft and slid down the rope. The other made ready to do so, but right at that moment, the creature making the noise became visible.

It was an utterly disgusting specimen. It appeared as if somebody had taken a lizard and a human and put them together, then given the resulting creature acid to drink. Bones jutted out, and at some places the skin was gone, allowing a horrific view into the scarred internal organs of the human.

“What the hell—”

The other trooper got no further than that. Crest physically booted him into the shaft, vaguely realizing that if the trooper did not catch the rope he would plunge to his death. As Crest did that, the mutant reared its ugly head and accelerated towards Crest.

Crest had no thoughts of engaging the creature alone. He hit the ‘up’ call button for the elevator and jumped at the rope. As he began to slid down the rope, the creature jumped into the shaft and attached itself to the wall, just as one might expect a lizard to do. However, Crest was faster sliding down the rope then the creature was at scrambling down the wall, and, consequently, reached his destination before the creature could reach him.

He dived onto the floor, half-realizing that his squad was looking at him wondering what had happened to send their squad leader into panic mode. Before Crest could explain, the creature suddenly appeared on the opposite side of open elevator shaft. Yet, before it could jump at them, the elevator roared up, catching the creature and hurling it up.

“And I hope that is the last we see of his cheerful face,” Crest remarked.

The squad looked stunned at the sudden threat that had appeared and was now gone.

“All right, down to business, ‘jacks. The mainframe is on the other side of the floor. And, any time before the mutants kill us would be a great time to get moving.”

A loud thump punctuated his statement. A few moments later, three oversized, hulking mutants which looked like they could smash a good-sized hole in a seconds came walking through a hallway running perpendicular to Blackjack’s. However, the unmoving squad escaped their notice, and the mutants continued down their hallway.

“Yep, anytime before they kill us would be a very good time to get moving.”

OOC:

Alright, 'jacks. Welcome to Mutant Floor: Mutants, Mutants, and a few more Mutants.

Crest took care of a Class-III mutant by plugging him in an elevator shaft (Incidentally, it may or may not eventually come back to us) and then we found three Class-IIs who did not realize that we were there.

The mainframe is on the complete opposite side of the floor. Feel free to create hordes of Class-Is, and small squads of Class-IIs. Clear any plans for Class-IIIs with me, please.

Barabel were not a primitive species, as such. They had reached the level of hyperspace technology, knew how to use modern weapons and gadgets and above all, knew how to adapt to the needs of combat in the modern galaxy. But deep down, all Barabel had their basic roots in them, their hunting instincts and their superstitions. When they had dropped in, Vicious had scarcely believed what he saw as he hefted his blaster -- it would have been heavy to most but, standing huge among most of the men of Blackjack, it was no more than a simple carbine to Zal 'Vicious' Baraduk. Nobody asked him how he got his callsign; nobody particularly wanted the story and that, Zal could understand. But these 'zombies' as Psycho, his new ASL called them.. well, they evoked deep rooted superstitions about magic and evil. That wasn't to say Zal didn't do his job -- far from it -- the Barabel did not bother ducking behind cover. The resilient mutants could take a punishing, but they did not return fire. All the more fortunate for them.. When Crest ordered him to open fire, he did not hesitate. He poured accurate fire into the nearest 'zombie' and let out a snarl. They were doing well -- the loss of two men aside -- but they could not hold this position forever, not against odds like this.

"Sir.." He hissed over the fire, "thizz one thinkzz we need to move.. soon." A strange sound came from his mouth. Similar to a hiss, most people recognised it as a display of emotion from a Barabel. 'Sissing' people called the action, and Baraduk was sissing quite loudly as he downed his second zombie in thirty seconds. Crest eyed him warily -- the Barabel was a stranger so far, only attached to the squad and had scarcely spoken a word. The report he'd received from Eclipse, though, suggested that the Barabel lived up to his callsign but was slightly resentful of authority, unless someone proved they had it. He had respected Skarr immensely, not so much his ASL Zaria - she had been timid, settling into command. But he respected his old squad all the same. Crest finally nodded and opened fire on a zombie that came too close.

"We've got to get to the mainframe!" Crest shouted, his initial rage at having lost his comrades was overtaken by his common sense and instincts, "Two by two, retreat to the mainframe. Vicious, Psycho, you're first!"

The combat had taken over and when Crest shouted 'Now!' both Psycho and Vicious sprinted to the next bit of clear ground -- or at least, where there where no mutants snapping at their heels. They both whirled around and began to provide cover for the others, until finally Crest and one other -- Velius, the Barabel noted -- jogged past them. A shout from down the corridor of 'advance' let Vicious and the senior man, Psycho, join the others, a quick sprint after they loosed almost an entire power-pack each on the incoming mass of class-I's. "You're not half bad, Private!" Psycho called as they ran.

"Thizz one izz glad." The Barabel called back in his gravelly tones. It seemed Psycho was more.. lively.. than Vicious. Baraduk liked to be silent when he was killing, interrupted only by a short hiss, snarl or siss. Psycho was almost disappointed, but he was too professional to show it. They finally reached the others, who were mostly crouched with their eyes on the door that led into the mainframe. Crest looked around to check they were all there, while Velius and the Senior Sergeant -- Anival -- covered their rear. "Alright, I figure we go in quietly, quickly and-"

"We've got trouble!" Velius shouted at them. Whirling around, Zal's reptilian eyes widened. Three of the class-IIs were barreling down the corridor at them, tossing aside class-Is like ragdolls. Each one had a different look to it, one with a dangling arm, another running like an ape, whilst the last was bigger and looked like.. well, a huge man that was stomping toward them. "Go, go, go!" Crest shouted and all stealth was forgotten. Zal could have sworn that he heard Crest mutter "I sure hope this place has a back door," but he quickly dismissed it as his imagination. The one they needed -- Jerrek Fleece -- went in the middle, with Vicious leading the way as they thundered into the room. The last man made it in and Psycho hit a pad by the door, and a thick plate slammed down where just seconds ago three of those huge mutants had been looking forward to pummeling them.  Psycho grinned, but his grin disappeared with most of his colour when a massive dent appeared in the thick blast door with a loud screech of metal.

"Fleece, no pressure or anything" Psycho had his blaster raised and pointed at the door. "But you might want to get going."

OOC:

Wordcount: 832

Nearly as soon as Velius passed out, the last Class-II succumbed to its heavy wounds. The few Class-Is that had survived from becoming collateral damage in the frantic battle against the Class-IIs stood no chance against concentrated, encircling fire from the rest of the squad.

As the last mutant fell, Crest ordered, “Psycho, organize the squad and make sure these mutants are three hundred percent dead. I’ll check on Velius.”

Not for the first time, Crest cursed the fact that the squad did not have a medic. It made injuries a pain, no pun intended. Substituting careful medical care for the type of ‘medical care’ that Crest knew, Crest took off Velius’s helmet and delivered an armored backhand in attempt to wake him up. While it would have made any medical doctor cringe, it did the trick, and Velius’s eyes snapped open.

“What?... I mean, what happened? Last I remember was pain...Was that from that mutant? Is it dead? Are they all dead?”

Crest held up a hand to stop the flow of questions and said, “Calm down. They are dead, yes. Good job on being bait. Oh, and there is one other thing. Do you know the definition of ‘run’, V?”

“Uhm....yeah. Yes, sir.”

“Good. Next time I say ‘run’, it is not permission for you to get trapped under a mutant and try to die. Next time, I want to see a VE-issued death warrant, notarized and signed in triplicate by Emperor Kadann himself before you get permission to die. Up you come, V.”

Crest held out a hand and helped V to his feet. As V put on his helmet, Psycho and the squad finished checking the mutants. The squad quickly formed up, Velius having recovered enough to be back on point, though Crest moved Anival up to the vanguard, in addition to Velius and Psycho, as Crest doubted V’s true combat readiness.

The squad moved quickly, neutralizing a few rogue Class-Is that appeared every so often.

As they turned the last corner, the closed blast doors for the room that contained the data mainframe. Crest, almost subconsciously, gave out orders, “V, get the doors open. Psycho, Anival, prepare to enter and clear the room upon door open. Everyone else, form a perimeter in pairs guarding the way we just came through.”

The squad quickly obeyed the orders. They formed a perimeter in pairs. Two troopers were out front, with two behind them, with Crest and another trooper behind them, almost back to back with Psycho and Anival.

Velius quickly navigated the (thankfully) unsecured console, looking for the control to open the door. Crest noticed that the squad had somewhat lost its ‘mutant jitters’, as Crest had named the half-scared, half-panicked state that the squad had fallen into, including Psycho. Especially Psycho. That had really panicked Crest. It was not a good sign that his own Assistant Squad Leader had lost his nerve. If he could not trust Psycho, who could he trust? If Psycho, his calm right hand, had been shaken, that spoke volumes about the mental stress that the squad was going through, even if it had been reduced after they had killed plenty of the mutants. Crest silently cursed the mutants, the twisted aliens who had done this, the Army High Command who authorized this mission, Flail, anybody he could think of in an attempt to drain his anger.

“Contact front, contact front!”

Crest was firing even before he completely snapped out of his reverie. A few charging Class-Is were shielding a charging Class-II from the Blackjack’s fire.

“V, now would be an excellent time to get that door open!”

“On demand, boss!” Velius yelled back, as the blast door slid open.

“Retreat, Blackjack, pull back inside the blast door.”

Crest could not wait for Anival and Psycho to confirm a clear room. The perimeter collapsed in, yielding to the mad rush of the mutants.

“Whoever is closest to the door control on the inside, start getting this door shut!”

Crest stepped through the door last, even as the door slid shut. Acting on a sudden impulse, the trooper that had been Crest’s partner on the perimeter quickly slipped an active grenade through the door. As the seal for the door was established, a muffled thump marked the end of the mutants.

Crest gave the trooper a nod of approval, and looked expectantly at their hard-fought-for prize.

“Contact AHC and tell them we’ve got it, and awaiting further instructions.”

OOC:

Objective is finished! Good job, Blackjack.

It did not take long for Crest to realize that the mission’s balance was now on a precarious edge, with the next few moves either winning it for Flail or the stormtroopers. Their orders even reflected the precarious balance of the situation.

Crest usually disdained the speeches that commanders loved to make as they usually only bolstered the commander’s morale. This time was an exception.

Short, sweet, and effective. Crest reminded himself as he prepared to shore up the squad’s morale for one last push.

“Blackjackers, do you happen to remember that command center AHC told us to grab? Well, they decided capturing it wasn’t good enough. They want to see it ‘denied to the enemy’. I’m going interpret that as permission to turn it into a burning moonscape, and you all are going to help me. Flail has just landed some of their best shocktroopers, who want to see us burn and die and generally have an unpleasant life, but they haven’t met us yet. Who’s ready to earn our ticket out of here?”

A wordless roar of approval marked that Crest’s words had been effective. Crest waited for the noise to die down and then snapped off rapid-fire orders.

“Velius, Psycho, point. Anival, Vicious, five paces behind them. Rest of us three will follow five pace behind you guys. We’ll take the staircase this time. Engage any threats, but speed is of the essence. Move out people, and let’s earn ourselves a first-class ride back to the Dominion, with champagne, crackers, and some beautiful waitresses.”

A few chuckles escaped at the good-natured, severe overstatement of the conditions on the ride back. The squad pushed forward.

----------~----------

Three stories above them, Shatter team, a rare, pure Zabrak team of eighteen members, did not exit the staircase at the command center’s level. They were on a different path. One that led down to the data mainframe. Their orders were simple. Deny any access to the data mainframe. If they crossed any stormtroopers who had accessed it, kill them.

Each Zabrak of Shatter team held a different reason to hate humans. Some were horribly scarred from atrocities the Galactic Empire commited. Others had been slaves to humans. Some held on to other reasons, but they were united in one thing, their abhorrence of humans. Even their insignias, a shattered human skull, showed their distaste for humans.

They were clad in bulky, gray battle armor. They held assorted weapons, although most were on the heavier, more powerful side.

And there was nothing Blackjack could do to avoid them.

----------~----------

Ten floors below Shatter team, a Class-III human/lizard mutant had one thought. Revenge. Curiously, the mutant appeared as if there had been an attempt to flatten it, almost like if it had gotten trapped in an elevator shaft and had gotten squished by an oncoming elevator. It had also found the perfect tools for its thought.

A few paces behind it, there stood a pack of nine mutants. They were only remotely like humans. Their snouts extended forward, and fangs exceeded their mouths’ size. The hands had been replaced with razor-sharp claws. The legs had become more powerful, which would obviously be a great help if they needed to jump. Most alarmingly, their skin was a dark, deathly gray.

The wolves inside these new Class-IIIs yearned for meat and blood. And their fellow mutant knew where it was.

----------~----------

Blackjack, all attempts at stealth abandoned, moved at an alarming pace through the now-deserted level.

One of the troopers remarked, “This is too easy. Where is everybody?”

Almost on cue a door swung open, and Flail’s Shatter team poured out. Crest could have pummeled the trooper into oblivion, but he—and the rest of the squad—were too concentrated on what had turned into a fight for survival.

OOC:

And so our last objective begins! We're currently fighting off some of Flail's forces. They are elite-ish and they outnumber two to one. After a few minutes some human/wolf Class-IIIs are going come up and turn this into a three-way brawl.

Crest cursed—not for the first or last time—the lack of a medic in the squad. However, he had seen enough medical care given out to know that something needed to be wrapped around Psycho’s injury to stop the blood flow. He also knew that he had nothing to do that with, apart from a small roll of explosive tape; obviously, he was not exactly thrilled with that idea.

“Psycho, listen to me. We’ve got nothing for you. Try to keep pressure on that wound. I’ll be back.”

Crest knew that, while the situation was grim, he was going to try to save him. Even though he felt a sense of protectiveness of his assistant, his main reason was practical. Psycho had one of the largest guns within the squad’s arsenal, and the way things were turning out hinted that a bigger gun was usually better. Crest slung his E-45, and unslung his TI-47 sniper rifle.

As he slid up to piece of cover that Psycho had been using, Crest took stock of the situation. Blackjack’s comms were completely silent, as each member was concentrating on their fight. Blaster fire—and the odd projectile—filled the hallway.

Crest brought his sniper rifle out, and started slowly picking off the Flail troopers. The sound of his sniper rifle was absorbed by the rest of the battle, so the effects of his shooting were amplified as the Flail troopers made no attempt to cover themselves from accurate shooting.

As his second, unfortunate victim fell, something odd happened to the Flail troopers. At first it was just a slight lessening of the outgoing fire. Then three troopers rushed back into the staircase. Then the outgoing fire lessened and five Flail troopers turned and trained their weapons on the staircase door.

Crest wondered briefly what happened. Even as the thought was processed by his brain, he got the answer. A group of roughly ten mutants burst from the door. At first, Crest would have mistaken them for the old myth of humans that turned into wolves around the full moon. After a moment of searching, Crest came up with the name. Werewolves. However, through his sniper rifle’s scope, Crest knew that these were Flail’s abominations. There were telltale stretch marks, and there were many puncture wounds from needles.

Crest made a split-second decision, “Blackjack, hold fire for five seconds! Hold fire for five seconds!”

Those five seconds turned the tide in Blackjack’s favor. The majority of Shatter team was torn apart, but managed to kill five of the mutants.

Crest saw that Velius was the one closest to the mutants, and issued an order, “Velius! Grenade!”

At first, Velius thought that Crest was warning him of a grenade thrown at him. However, just as Crest was about to correct his statement, Velius realized what the squad leader wanted, and tossed a grenade into the remains of the Shatter team and the mutants.

“Blackjack, open fire!”

As Blackjack began firing again, the grenade went off, killing one more mutant and destroying the legs on another. It also killed the remainders of the Flail’s team.

As the three remaining mutants turned towards Blackjack, blaster bolts slammed into them. Each time they tried to advance, a fresh volley of blaster bolts slammed into them, sending them staggering back. It was a fight that could only end in one way, and it did end with the mutants’ death.

As soon as the last mutant fell, Crest ordered, “Blackjack, see if you can find a medical kit from the Flail troopers.”

The squad, having realized what had happened to Psycho, knew the gravity of the situation. It didn’t take long for the five troopers that were left to locate Shatter’s now-dead medic and take a medical kit.

As one of the troopers took the medical kit back to Psycho and prepared to administer the crude first-aid that most troopers knew, Crest organized a perimeter around the room Psycho was in.

It took Psycho a few minutes to get back onto his feet. He still was not in fighting shape, but it would have to do.

Crest formed the squad up to move, “Same plan as before, except I’ll be trading places with Psycho.”

After the squad formed up, Crest gave a brief nod to Velius (and after thoroughly reminding himself not to give out undue criticism) and followed after him.

OOC:

Shatter and the wolf/human mutants have been destroyed. The lizard/human is missing, even though nobody in Blackjack realizes that.

Crest thought furiously how the Blackjack could change this impossible situation.  They were bottled up, and they were trapped.

Leaving the command center intact was a no-go. If they left it intact, Flail would almost surely be able to keep the other stormtrooper squads from escaping. Even Blackjack’s state compounded the problem. The squad had given out much better than they had taken, but the fact remained that they were outnumbered. Sooner or later the five Blackjack troopers that were left would be overrun, and they would join their brethren-in-arms in this grave. Their only chance was to torch the command center and then run a running battle to their transport. But the question remained, how could Blackjack get to the command center?

Oddly, the answer came to Crest from their first objective. They had blown a hole in the command center’s roof... if Flail had not yet repaired that...

Crest snapped out rapid-fire orders, “Anival, rearguard! Velius, help Psycho up one last floor. Vicious, you’re with me.”

Only half-waiting for the Barabel to catch up with him, Crest pounded his way up the stairs. He was vaguely aware of Velius helping Psycho up the stairs, and Anival making sure that nothing came after them.

Crest knew it was reckless, being on point himself, especially with Psycho injured, but he paid no heed to his subconscious warnings. Vicious kept pace with him, and that was all he needed. As they reached their target floor, Crest threw open the door and rushed onto the floor. Apparently, there was nothing worth saving on this floor, as no Flail teams had yet secured this floor. Flail was about to be proven wrong.

Crest, not looking back, ordered, “Psycho, Anival, cover the staircase and make sure it stays open. Velius, Vicious, stay with me.”

He was dimly aware that Velius was sprinting to make up the distance that Crest’s frantic pace was creating. Crest quickly traced the steps the squad had taken on their first objective and soon spotted the door that should open into the room from where they had created the hole into the command center. Crest threw the door open, and promptly got smashed by a waiting Class-I. Although the helmet took the brunt of the blow, Crest was stunned from the rapid events. Thankfully, Vicious, having gotten a heads-up, stepped back to get some range for his blaster and unleashed a vicious blast, destroying Crest’s attacker. Velius quickly caught up with them, and he helped Crest to his feet.

Crest nodded thanks to Velius and Vicious. He could almost feel the disapproval coming from the Barabel at Crest’s reckless rush. As Crest got his bearings again, Crest finally got a good look at his attacker. Vicious had lived up to his callsign by burning a, well, vicious string of blaster bolts into the mutant.

As he looked over the hole, a smile touched Crest’s lips, since Flail had not yet been able to repair the hole. Crest ordered, “Let the command center have it.”

Vicious, Velius, and Crest discarded careful shooting and instead put out a rolling storm of blaster bolts. The blaster bolts fused wires together, blasted consoles, and, in general, destroyed the command center. The action burned through a lot of their precious reserves of ammunition, but at no point did Crest attempt to choke the flow of destruction. It needed to be done.

Once Crest was satisfied that the command center was beyond any repair Flail could muster in a short time, Crest ordered the shooting to stop. He motioned the trio back to where Psycho and Anival were waiting.

----------~----------

Cortez’s tattered Fifth squad had been forced to abandon their position soon after the lockdown had lifted. They had been forced up a few levels but had eventually been able to secure a position two levels above the command center. They had paid a heavy price in the meantime, though. Two troopers had died in the initial, mad rush of the mutants. Three more had died when the mutants had arranged an ambush, including their Assistant Squad Leader. They had eventually settled in an office, and used the desk to barricade it as much as they could. Now most of their medical supplies were gone, and there was a mob of Class-I mutants waiting to cut them up. The order to retreat had come a bit too late. They had already barricaded themselves in, unable to attack or retreat.

Now their Squad Leader was gleaning brief comm bursts from a stormtrooper squad. It appeared to be one of Phoenix’s squad as it had an unusual name, Blackjack.

Suddenly, the transmission clear.

“Stairwell clear, Psycho?”

“Yeah, Crest.”

“Then off we go.”

The Squad Leader activated his comms, hoping to catch the squad and see if he could get some sort of support.

“This is Fifth Squad to Blackjack Squad. Can you hear us?”

“Fifth, this is Blackjack, what do you need?”

“We’re trapped two levels up from the command center’s level. All that’s left of our medical supplies is a stretcher. Can you lend us some support?”

“You guys have a stretcher?”

“Yes, but we’re trapped in an office on the left, about seventy-five feet from the stairwell.”

Unlike what Fifth Squad’s leader had thought, the reply came back with no hesitation.

“We’re one floor below. We’ll be up there soon. Do you know what’s on the outside?”

“About sixteen of the Class-I mutants last we saw.”

“Alright. Keep that stretcher ready. We’ll be there soon.”

OOC:

Alright, the command center has been torched. However, there is a slight problem. Fifth squad (what's left of it anyway) is trapped one floor above us, and they've got a stretcher for an ASL who decided to get hurt. Join up with them, and they get the hell out. Our ammo is also leaning to the smaller side, as destroying the command center really burned through our ammo supplies.

“Velius, Psycho,” came the unmistakable voice of the squad leader, Crest, “You can come up now. It’s all clear.”

Though slowly, Velius pulled Psycho on up, and they hobbled up the wet flight of stairs to join up with the rest of the squad. As they entered the hallway, the familiar stench of burnt flesh entered Psycho’s nose, this time, much more intense. Instantly, he recognized the source of the smell. The hallway was littered with charred, smoldering corpses of the mutants, which drooled their thick bodily fluids onto the floor. It was anything but a pretty sight.

Following the hallway to the left, Velius and Psycho came upon Fifth Squad and Blackjack, huddled at the dead end of the hallway, recovering from the recent combat. A few crates were barricaded into walls, showing how desperate Fifth Squad was to defend themselves. Right before the barricade was a piIe of the mutant bodies, marking how close they had come to the squad. If Blackjack had not arrived, Psycho decided, they could have easily been killed.

Crest was exchanging a few words with Cortez when Psycho came up to them, remaining quiet to preserve his politeness. “So, just one more floor up, and we’re out of here?”

“That’s correct, but we better not run into any of those...things. My squad’s low on ammo.”

“So is mine,” Crest added, thinking about the situation deeply. Seeing Psycho, he turned to his Assistant Squad Leader, glancing over him with a worrisome eye. “Are you alright, Psych?”

“Yeah,” Psycho muttered, exhaustion lining his words, “I’m fine. Let’s just get out of here.”

“Oh! I just remembered! The stretcher! Cortez, where is it?”

Cortez silently pointed towards one of the walls, in which the stretcher leaned carefully against it, a bag of medical supplies to its side. Crest quickly brought it back to Psycho, resting it on the floor. Taking their time, the troopers slowly eased Psycho down on the fabric stretcher, trying to make it as painless as possible. A few times, the sharp stabs of pain entered his mind, but he attempted to dismiss them. Once he was comfortable on the device, Crest called over Anival, directing him and Velius to pull him up. Anival’s movements was much more rigid and jerky than Velius. Instead of calm, fluid motions, he pulled Psycho right on up in an inconsiderate manner. Though, it did not hurt Psycho, at the moment, he was afraid it eventually would, but he would not say anything - not with them being so close to finishing this dreadful mission.

When they had sorted the stretcher business out, Crest hushed everyone down, giving the final speech. “Alright, teams,” he began, his charisma clearing the way for his leadership, “We’re one floor away from the roof, where we’ll be extracted via shuttles. With Fifth Squad taking the front, and Blackjack picking up six, we’ll go up the stairs to your right, and follow a linear hallway down to the stairs leading to the roof. Not too hard. Let’s finish this quickly. Alright, teams, let’s get moving.”

Hearing that, two groups headed off in an eager, but cautious manner. They were ready to get the hell out of that facility and to forget it all, but they wanted to remain careful as well. Mutants could still jump out and attack them, and so could the hostile alien teams. They were not out of this yet.

For most of the trek up the stairs, the squads remained silent, but the excitement of entering the last hallway provoked quiet chatter amongst the stormtroopers.

“So where are you from, Psycho,” Velius quietly asked, carrying his Assistant Squad Leader at a steady pace.

“Bespin.”

“Really. Cloud City?” Anival butted in. Psycho silently nodded. His troopers were in the mood for talking, but all he wanted to do was focus on the mission.

“What did you do there?” Vicious, casually, asked.

“Police Chief.”

“Interesting.”

“Guys,” Crest snapped, “Quiet down. Stay on your toes, I have a bad feeling about this...” He mentally thanked Crest for his actions, but he could not but help feel a bit concerned. He trusted Crest’s instinct, and he knew something was about to happen...

Just then, blood curdling screams and yells echoed down the hallway ahead, followed by a few blaster bolts and a loud snarl. Immediately, Crest and Vicious ducked into doorways to take cover, Anival and Velius quickly hustling over to one, placing the stretcher on the carpeted floor.

“What the hell is going on up there?!” Crest cried, trying to get a glimpse at the carnage ahead. All he could see was several of Cortez’s troopers running towards Blackjack, silhouetted by the red flashes of a blaster rifle. Beyond that, there was a load of movement and noise, but he could not distinguish any of it in the light smoke ahead.

“Mutants!” Cortez yelled, sprinting behind the Blackjack line with a few other troopers, “They jumped out at us from a perpendicular hallway! They just jumped right on the troopers, clawing at them! We’re all that made it out unscathed!”

Then, they saw them. As the smoke cleared, the stormtroopers could distinguish a huge lizard like mutant, its dark green scales slathered in blood. It was flanked by several other small grey mutants. They almost resembled wolves, except their grotesque bodies were covered in asymmetrical bumps and gouges. Their mutilation struck fear into even the hardened troopers, including Psycho, who lay defenseless against the approaching creatures.

Blackjack and Fifth Squad did the only thing they could have done: they opened fire. The roar of the blaster rifles filled the hallway once more as the fiery shots dispersed wildly around the corridor. However, most of the shots exploded against the walls and floors, missing the mutants completely. Not only that, but the squads were already low on ammo, and the shots they were making were not accurate. One lucky shot, from the calm and steady Crest, smashed into the lizard-mutant’s leg. It tumbled against the wall, hissing in pain, but instead of staying down, it got up, licking its lips with its long, slimy tongue.

“Come on!” Psycho yelled, his voice raspy and dry, “Make your shots count!” Another bolt slammed into a wolf-mutant, melting its furry body as it flew backwards from the blast.

Then, Vicious called, “I’m out of ammo!”

Before Crest could curse, Anival cried the same words. Then Velius. Then Cortez and his troopers, and finally, Crest.

“Dammit!” Crest screamed, anger and frustration fueling his tone. The mutants were slowly walking down the hall, eyeing the Imperials ahead. Then, they broke out into a furious sprint. “Get your DL’s!”

All of the troopers, in a mad frenzy, drew their pistols, but it was too late. The mutants were already upon them. Then, a few yards away from reaching the soldiers, the mutants stopped abruptly. Standing quietly, they lifted their heads around, as if to hear something closer, forgetting about Blackjack entirely. Psycho heard it too. It was a loud thump followed by what sounded to be gunfire, and it was coming from the roof above them. Slowly, the mutants turned around, and broke out into another sprint, this time, down the opposite direction of the hall. They stopped at the end, and went up the stairs leading to the roof, disappearing from Blackjack entirely. It was the strangest thing ever, Psycho decided.

“What the frak just happened?” Vicious, confused as ever, asked.

“I heard a few thuds on the roof,” Psycho added, “Maybe it was the shuttles landing? I also heard...I think I heard gunfire.”

“Shit,” the Squad Leader cursed, “Let’s get up there! Our ride home might be in trouble!” Crest did not need to follow anyone, and he broke out into a run, heading down the hall. The rest of the team was quickly on his heels.

Coming up onto the roof, the first thing everyone noticed was the sunlight. It blinded their eyes, which had grown used to the darkly illuminated hallways of the facility. Then, once they adjusted to the sunlight, the troopers all stepped back in surprise as a three way battle was currently in progress on the roof.

On one side of the roof, several oddly dressed troopers hid behind cover. Psycho knew them to be Flail’s troopers by the insignias on their armor. Ahead of them, were the mutants that just charged upward, and they were advancing on the alien team. However, above them all were two Vast Imperial shuttles, hovering noisily in the air. Their bay doors were open, and several Imperial Marines were hanging out, exchanging fire with Flail’s soldiers. Crest wasted no time contacting the shuttles.

“This is Blackjack and Fifth Squad! We’re behind you guys! Get over here so we can go home!” Crest radioed loudly.

For a moment, the radio was silent, then came the pilot’s reply. “We thought you guys would never show up! Coming right over!” Immediately, the shuttles glided over towards Blackjack’s part of the roof, where they slowly dropped downward, hovering a meter over the concrete roof. “Get in!”

The troopers broke into a sprint, their fear, exhaustion, and longing to get home driving them with every step. Velius and Anival slid Psycho and the stretcher onto the shuttle floor, before propelling themselves up. Vicious came next, while Fifth Squad filed into the second shuttle. But where was Crest, Psycho wondered?

Glancing down, he watched as Crest stood with his pistol drawn, eyeing the giant-lizard mutant who was slowly advancing towards him.

“Crest, get in, dammit!” Psycho demanded.

“No, if I break into a run, or even back away, this thing is going to charge at you guys. I need to take it out here. Make sure none of those marines fire. I’ve got this.”

“Are you insane?!”

“I thought we agreed we wouldn’t bring that up again?”

Then, before Psycho could complain, Crest firmly released several shots from his blaster pistol. Even with the low inaccuracy with such a weapon, Crest’s shots were golden, and they smashed into the scales of its legs. The monster hissed before collapsing to the ground, but like before, the creature shook off the blaster bolts, and picked itself up. Crest shot a few more rounds, and they slammed into the creature's legs again, but it did not slow the creature, who was gaining speed towards Crest. Its thick scales were keeping the blaster bolts for penetrating its flesh, and tt was immune to Crest’s attacks, Psycho realized. What was he going to do?

But Crest knew what he was doing. As the creature progressed onward, it became less and less wary of Crest, trusting his shots to be ineffective to its scales, but as it came closer, Crest’s shots would become more accurate, and all it would take would be a few shots in the poorly scaled portions of its body to take it down. That’s exactly what the Squad Leader did. With the creature about to pounce upon him, Crest carefully fired two rounds at the lizard. They struck right in the arm pit and the crotch of the mutant. Instead of being absorbed by scales, they passed right on through, melting through bone and flesh alike. For a moment, the creature looked slightly confused. Then, it tumbled onto the roof, its hip bones now nonexistent. Sure, it was alive, but it could not run, and it could no drag itself. Once again, Psycho thought, the intelligence of his Squad Leader would always prevail.

As soon as the creature fell, Crest pulled himself up onto the shuttle, giving the signal for the pilot to fly off. The bay doors closed, symbolically ending the mission. Psycho loved the military. He loved to fight, but this mission, he decided, was pure brutality. Watching half of his squad get torn to pieces by slobbering mutants was not an easy thing to handle. At least it was over, he thought, and at least he was alive.

For the remained of the ride, no one said a word, not even about Crest’s pure heroism, and when they came to their orbiting ships, the none-injured troopers went straight to their bunks, trying to forget, in that mission, the terrible, awful Whispers in the Dark...

OOC:

Word Count: 2,049. Alright, Blackjack! Good work on the story. As I've said a billion times before, you guys did a great job, and I'm proud of you. I don't really care what the verdict is anymore, I'm just proud of how well we did with the amount of troopers we had. This isn't the best post, but it's long and it finishes up the story climatically. It also might be a bit far fetched, and I apologize for that.