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Old 11-04-2012, 04:14 PM   #1
HotCider
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PRIES (HotCider & HotKittygirl)

PRIES
Paranormal Research Investigation & Eradication Specialists

Mission 1: A Dark Angel

St. Anthony’s Church of the Holy Flame: Friday, Dec. 14, 2117 - 7:15 P.M.

The church was alive with the song of praise. The congregation stood with traditional hymn books parted in their hands, singing aloud to the guiding hum of a pipe organ. There were no electronic, handheld libraries or fancy sound systems where the pastor could have easily downloaded the tune to play for him. St. Anthony’s Church was traditional because it believed that humanity has forsaken the old ways. Electronics were discouraged, but still children could be seen, sitting while their parents faithfully stood, button-mashing on their mini game systems.

Michael stood to blend in with other servants of the Holy Flame. His amber eyes were upon the lyrics, but he wasn’t reading them. He wasn’t singing either. He was nervously thinking about the mission. The ALPHA virus within him was causing every hair to stand on his body as it sensed the other virus in the room. It had caught the organization’s attention and it had called for several operatives—not just him—to be present in the church. They were all dressed in shirts and ties, and some of the wiser, female operatives chose not to wear a skirt and panty-hoes but slacks in the case they needed to make a swift exit.

Michael was sporting a solid-black dress-shirt, grey tie, and grey khaki pants. He had shaved for the occasion, touching up on his sideburns, and having had raked a comb through his black hair a few times. He had to look his best for Christ—hopefully that hadn’t been a death wish. There was no doubt that the User suspected their presence. Just as they felt him, he felt them.

What am I doing here? Michael thought uncomfortably.

This hadn’t been the mission he was hoping for. There were so many innocent civilians, and unlike the other rookies on this mission, Michael didn’t think his virus was easy to conceal. He had expressed his concerns with Special Ops Supervisor Bill Hadley, but all Bill had to say was, “You’ll get used to it.”

What the fuck was that supposed to mean? Michael frowned softly just thinking about it, and just as the wave of his musings slowed, the moment of worship had concluded.

Please, take your seats.

Michael closed the hymn book and deposited it back into the holder before he settled down within the pew. He had been sitting on the right side of the room, and once everyone had sat, the pastor became visible. He stood in white and red robes with his hands grasping the edges of a podium. His blond hair bore a soft glow and his blue eyes twinkled beneath the ceiling lamps. His whole being radiated with joy as he swept the room with his eyes, a long and excited smile stretched across his lips.

If it wasn’t for his ALPHA virus, Michael would have never seen the pastor as a threat. The man looked his part, and while he appeared friendly, he didn’t feel that way. Michael lowered his eyes before the pastor’s attention motioned to his side of the room. His hands nervously fondled each other as he tried to keep his cool. The good thing about there being too many people in the room was that the pastor couldn’t discern who exactly his enemy was, but he knew where his enemy sat.

“May the Lord be with you!” the pastor spoke.

“And also with you!” the congregation returned.

“Let us pray!”

The church fell into silence, people bowing their heads as the pastor began to pray. Michael couldn’t stop thinking about the current objective. The briefing had said nothing about attending the entire service.

As the prayer concluded, the pastor clapped his hands together and greeted, “Good Evening!”

Good Evening!

“Well, I am glad to see that our guests from last week have returned and that we also have some new faces in here tonight. The-”

“Pastor Goodfellow!” a woman cried.

The pastor gazed down the aisle at a mother, holding the wrists of her video game-addicted children.

“Forgive me, pastor, but my children are new to this church, and I have heard of your healing hands. Please, save them from the technology that teaches them to rebel against their own mother and neglect their studies. I fear my babies may be expelled if this continues!” the mother exclaimed.

Michael arched a brow in disbelief. Was this lady serious? He thought that he was sitting in a church but now it seemed more like a theater. All she had to do was take away their games and give the brats a good old-fashioned spanking.

Pastor Goodfellow laughed softly and spread his arms, beckoning cheerfully with his hands. “I hadn’t expected to start the healing session so soon, but the Lord is never too early to work nor too late! Come, bring your children here.”

The mother towed her pouting sons down the aisle to the altar as the pastor stepped from behind the podium to stand before the two boys. He bent over to rest his hands upon his knees as he looked from the oldest to the youngest.

“And what are your names?” the pastor questioned.

The oldest son glanced briefly up at the pastor. His bottom lip was poked out and brows pinched in anger to have been torn away from his game for this. Without saying a word, he returned his eyes to the floor, and the pastor glanced to the youngest who crossed his arms before his chest and dismissively turned his head. The mother took a knee behind her sons, keeping her hands firmly upon their shoulders as she shook them in a light scold.

“The oldest is David, and the youngest Zack,” the mother told the pastor.

Pastor Goodfellow smiled, hardly affected by the boys’ rebellious natures. “Well, David; Zack; my name is Pastor Todd Goodfellow, and I’m here to steer your souls back onto the path of righteousness. If you’ll be so kind to hold still, and Mom, please join me in healing these boys.”

The boys’ mother raised her hands from their shoulders to rest her palms against the back of their heads. The pastor then laid his hands upon the boys’ crowns, raking his fingers back through their brown hair so that they were closest to their scalps. The pastor then began to pray and what looked like purple roots began branching down the sides of the boys’ skulls. The branches stretched past their temples to their cheekbones and the boy’s eyes became wide and distant.

Suddenly, Michael could feel his virus sending him warnings again, and it wasn’t just the pastor that it was warning him about, but now the little boys. Michael observed the healing in shock. What the hell was he doing to those kids?

“Are you seeing this?” Michael quietly spoke into the communicator hidden within his tie.

So that’s how the son of a bitch is doin’ it! the supervisor spoke into the ears of all the operatives within the church. You can bet that the whole congregation is infected with that virus he’s passing around. He seems to be using his hosts to bring him new hosts, but the virus he’s spreadin’ ain’t the same kind he’s infected with. I’m sure Dr. Whatshisface could explain the science behind it to ya, but plain and simple, we kill him, then we free all his slaves. Yes, you heard me boys and girls, we’re not apprehendin’ this one. The Director has given the order to dust his ass.

Michael watched as the strange branches began to retract from beneath the boys’ flesh. The pastor lifted his hands and the wide-eyed children suddenly began smiling. Their mouths were stretched wide with shining rows of teeth as they chorused, “We feel great!”

They then turned to their mother and apologized, “We’re sorry Mama.”

They threw their arms about their mother as she embraced them warmly with tears rolling down her eyes. The congregation became noisy with applause and praise. Michael reluctantly joined in, feeling disturbed by how quick the children’s personalities had changed and how the entire church was their enemy.

The pastor held his hands out and then lowered them as he motioned for silence. He surveyed the Holy Flame communion and his sapphire orbs glinted with intrigue.

“It appears we have some new faces to not only welcome into our church, but into the house of God. I thank the Lord for every lamb that has found his or her way here. I’m sure that all of you have personal reasons for coming, but if you will, I would like to heal each of your souls with a prayer. Please, I ask that you not be shy and come forward,” said Pastor Goodfellow.

Michael carefully glanced out the corners of his eyes at the aisle. None of the other agents had moved. Gazing back at the pastor cautiously, the kind-hearted expression didn’t once leave the holy man’s face. His cheeks bunched and glowed with amusement as his lips curved into a long smile.

“No one?” the pastor queried.

Abruptly, the congregation turned to face the agents. Michael near jumped out of his seat when men, women, and children suddenly set their eyes on him and the other agents. His back fell against the backrest as his wide eyes darted from one face to the next.

Holy shit! he thought.

“There you all are. I can see you much better now. Please, don’t be afraid. I want to help you. You willingly came to my church. I cannot permit you to leave until I have returned my gratitude. Now come, please, one of you or I’ll be forced to choose,” Pastor Goodfellow gently demanded.

Michael again peered at the other agents to see them calmly remaining in their seats despite the pastor’s threats and the hundreds of eyes that lingered on them. Were they just supposed to sit there? What did that accomplish? The User would pick one of them soon, and it wouldn’t be pretty. If the pastor was as high a threat as the supervisor described, then they were all in danger and there was no other way around it. Michael closed his eyes as he came to terms with himself. If there was any agent in the church the pastor could call on to bestow his corruption, Michael would have rather it be him.

I can handle this bullshit, Michael mentally told himself. He stood, and immediately, the heads of several agents snapped in his direction. Their eyes were large in shock and anger, but none of them said a word. Instead, they hoped their expressions would signal him to sit his ass down, but Michael stepped out of the row and into the aisle.

What the HELL are you doin’? Bill Hadley screamed into his ears. Michael stroked his hand along his tie and thumbed the communicator off. The supervisor exploded into the ears of the surrounding agents. WHO TOLD HIM TO MOVE? WHAT THE FUCK IS HE DOIN’?

Pastor Goodfellow’s smile sank as he silently studied the man that approached him. The closer he stepped, the tenser he felt. There was something wrong. This man made him feel endangered. The pastor took a timid step back and Michael stopped, noticing the show of apprehension. Well, this was awkward. His amber eyes flicked briefly to the frowning faces of the other operatives. He noticed one man mouthing for him to go back to his fucking seat. Returning a stubborn scowl, Michael glanced back to the pastor and nervously scratched with his finger an area of his jaw that was still riddled with razor burn.

“My name is Michael Van Buren. I guess I uh…could use some of your healing…” A scary situation just became embarrassing. He felt so stupid. Why didn’t he just stick to his seat and waited to see what would happen? “I…well…I have anger issues I can’t really control. I sometimes wind up hurting people. Sometimes I feel bad about it, sometimes I don’t because they deserve it.” He cast his eyes to the floor as his cheeks flushed a little. God, he was just digging an outhouse.

Pastor Goodfellow’s brows slowly rose in surprise at Michael’s confession. Tension was still thick between them, but the stranger didn’t appear to be bluffing. He was a man in trouble and who was in need of his services.

“Oh…Oh!” the pastor exclaimed. “Uh, yes! I understand your plight, and God shall liberate you from the wrathful spirit that dwells within you. No longer will you harm those around you as well as your own spirit, which witnesses the sin you commit and weeps!”

Michael’s face became even redder. The pastor had to put so much zeal behind the situation. Any minute now he was expecting to be doused with holy water and slapped in the forehead with a Bible. Why didn’t he just stay in his seat?

“Kneel please,” the pastor ordered.

Michael slowly sank to his knees and tensely stared at the floor. Images of the tentacles he saw slithering beneath the boys’ flesh were flashing before his eyes. He was about to get the same treatment. Pastor Goodfellow stepped closer to Michael and raised his hand to inspect his palm before he stared down at Michael’s scalp.

I must find out what this man really is, Pastor Goodfellow thought.

He rested his hand upon Michael’s head and slid his fingers back through his dark layers of hair until he had a comfortable grip on his scalp. Michael’s breathing stopped and he immediately became still.

Here it comes, he thought in dread.

Like the two boys, purple limbs branched out beneath his flesh. He felt them piercing his brain and his teeth came tightly together in protest.

“Now, let us pr-”

The pastor’s pupils dilated as his mind became suddenly assaulted with pain. Discomfort wracked his body, and a horribly burning sensation afflicted the hand he had upon Michael’s head. Something was attacking him inside out. It was destroying his very cells, warring through his body like a plague. Grasping his rapidly-beating and aching heart, Pastor Goodfellow’s eyes nearly bulged from his sockets in result of the terror that filled him.

“Devil!” he screamed. “Devils; you’re all devils!”

Michael eased his head back; his eyes had rolled back into his head as he felt the ALPHA virus’s war with the virus that tried to invade his body. His hands were shaking. His fingers had curled to help him bear the assault as he pushed the virus back. The ALPHA virus stormed the bridge that was erected between him and the User and began attacking the pastor’s cells.

The pastor shrieked as he tried to retract his hand from Michael’s head. He stepped back, trying to rip his tentacles free, but they were caught. Writhing in pain, the violent attack forced the pastor to morph. Beneath his white and red robes, his shoulder blades shot upwards like white spikes, ripping through the cotton material. The bones then arched outwards as flesh and golden feathers tightly wrapped them. His arms and legs snapped and popped as they began to lengthen, lifting the pastor to a slender eight-feet and five inches.

Pastor Goodfellow stopped convulsing the more his T-virus awakened. He lifted Michael effortlessly, his free hand grasping his throat as long, needle-like fingers curled about it. His whole being had transformed into a creature that may have fit the imaginations of what a holy being would look like. His legs curled like the arms of a mantis as he hovered in the air on his wiry wings. His blue eyes had become cold and affronted. His brows pinched together as he stared at the conundrum in his clutches. Michael’s whole body had gone rigid. Every muscle was flexed as he resisted the awakened virus that had forced his own to retreat.

“You resist my healing,” Pastor Goodfellow noted. “There are more of you aren’t there? They’re here among God’s children. Well, let me show them what happens to devils that dare come into this church!”

The pastor retracted his tentacles and Michael’s body went limp in his grip. A wave of exhaustion had passed over him and perspiration built upon his brow. He opened his eyes to see that the pastor’s hair had grown. It rippled toward him like thread spun from the gold and when each follicle lightly settled on his skin, spots began to form. From the spots lifted thin, trails of smoke and Michael soon found himself suddenly on fire. The operative screamed as fire engulfed his flesh and clothes, melting and crisping it. He violently kicked and flailed in the faux-angel’s grip as Pastor Goodfellow watched Michael burn into a black husk with a content smile. He dropped his smoking and charred victom upon the floor and regarded the congregation.

“There are more like him among you. Kill them,” the pastor ordered.

Men, women, and children suddenly began lunging at the operatives, wrestling them to the ground where they would beat and stomp them to death. The church had turned against them. Operatives tried to make a dash for Pastor Goodfellow, but his hair follicles had been so thin that they hadn’t seen them surrounding his form like a firewall. Male and female agents met the wall of hair that had them collapsing to the floor in flames and rolling to put themselves out. Within minutes, the church had descended into Hell. Operatives were forced to fight off mothers and their children, fathers, and grandparents. They were people that the agency had dubbed innocent, but under the pastor’s control they seemed no longer human.

Meanwhile, Bill’s hand was resting against his face. His grey eyes stared sternly from between his digits at the Hell he was watching on the control room big screen. He was losing agents all because of The Director’s order not to harm the people. How did they know that they were still people? From what he could see, they were monsters out for blood.

Lowering his hand, he brought his index finger to his ear where he pressed a small button on the tooth-like communicator.

Scratch that last order. Dust’em all! Dust’em all before I’m scoopin’ up yer ashes! the supervisor roared.

Last edited by HotCider : 11-05-2012 at 02:35 AM.
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Old 11-05-2012, 07:53 AM   #2
HotKittygirl
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The timing and placement of the plan had been nearly perfect. They had operatives placed all over the Church, mingling in as best they could, which seemed easy enough given the size of the crowd and their general good will towards strangers. It seemed simple enough, of Fiona was never that optimistic. While it might seem easier with such a crowd to disappear into, but to those piercing cornflower blue eyes they were all just collateral damage waiting to be tallied up.

It was just suppose to be one User, though powerful as it may be, it was still just one. They could handle one User, that much she was confident in. This wasn't her first mission and if things played out it wouldn't be her last. Fiona was a veteran PRIES operative, something that didn't happen often. The turn around was rather impressive, but that was to be expected in a job where one fought back the literal monsters out of nightmares and shadows. She had always been funny to her that they used ALPHA to combat the Users; sometimes it took a monster to defeat a monster. But she always told herself, as long as you don't become one completely, it would all work out in the end.

The end, that was something she never thought the Preacher would get to. Fiona had never been a religious person, not that she really had any experience growing up either. Still, she couldn't help but feel a certain amount of 'hibby jibbies” sitting here among 'the flock'. She stood with her little pamphlet, mouthing the words and trying not to stick out too much. Usually it wasn't that hard, after all, Fi (as she was typically called) was a well trained and disciplined operative. It took hard work and dedication to the job to get that good, but even she wasn't without flaws.

Sometimes she stuck out like a sore thumb, perhaps it was that fiery red hair, a bright and almost metallic crimson. She kept it boyishly short, though with enough to style it as she saw fit. More often than not she kept it under a hat of some kind, ranging from a fedora to a baseball cap depending on the dresscode. Yet a hat wasn't exactly going to cut it here in church, thus she had it styled and spiky, not too much, but just enough to give it a unique look. Her face was sharply defined and angular, with high cheekbones and a rounded chin. Her lips were full and expressive, more often than not they wore a knowing smile, like she knew some big secret the world at large wasn't aware of, or nothing at all. As beautiful as she was, Fi could get rather cold hearted when the situation called for it. Yet nicknames like the ice queen or something to that effect never stuck, after all, it was against her very nature.

Fiona had the cut and athletic body of a woman in their mid-twenties, kept taut and toned from a life of constant activity. More often than not though it was hidden underneath finely tailored clothing; tonight called for nothing but the best after all. Fiona had worn her finest, a business suit with slacks, black and pin striped. While most women would have given into the pain of fashion and worn a pair of heels, Fiona knew tonight called for something a little more practical. Her shoes were still classy, though if the need called for it she could run and kick (she had a feeling it would). All in all she made the rather stunning package, one that got more than a few looks. But she was use to that, after all, those pants were just a little tight at the hips, who couldn't deny that firm curve of her taut backside as she stood there and mouthed the hymn? If Fiona noticed them she made no indication, no, her attention was already divided between her two primary objectives.

The most obvious, of course, was the User, the one they suspected to be the boisterous preacher on stage. All eyes were upon the man as they sang, prayed, and finally called some unfortunate souls to the stage. But her other objective, one that was not widely known, was that amber eyed rookie sitting on the other side of the isle.


Of all the other operatives she had dealt with, this one was the worst. It wasn't that he was a horrible operative, but his unique abilities and mind set, well...he was a walking disaster waiting to happen. The man gave the silly green guy in the comic books a bad name. It came from on high that Fiona, among others, were to watch after the man in and out of the field. He was a ticking time bomb, someone had to be there to keep it from exploding before it was ready.

Another reason that Fiona did so loath this massive crowd was the fact it played havoc with her own set of unique abilities. While they were many and ranging, one unique ability the fiery haired woman had was the ability to read the surface thoughts of those around her. It wasn't a parlor trick, it wasn't something she did for fun and it was taxing. It had taken a lot of practice and focus to get where she was today, even now, the subtle ripple of a hundred different voices tickled at her subconscious. Sometimes the thoughts came without her bidding, those were the bad days. That was one reason she hated crowds, in times of great stress the power could become unpredictable. But she worked on it, 'great stress' was a subjective word, a broad term that was getting broader and broader with each passing mission.

Plush tiers pursed together tightly as she let her gaze fall upon the back of Micheal's head. She focused her intent upon him, if only to get a subtle read on his general mood.

What she got she didn't like.

Yet before she could react to that the situation took a turn for the worse. Two children were seemingly 'healed' of their problems, those keen blue eyes easily caught sight of what could only be described as tentacles assaulting the children. That was how he was doing it, Michael stated the obvious over the comlink, much to Fiona's chagrin. Yet before they knew it the eyes of the congregation were upon them. They almost turned as one, a cliche almost, but creepy nonetheless. Fiona felt a sudden and undeniable quiver in her stomach, a sudden apprehension that took all her will to quiet. She swallowed it down, drawing on her focus to meet the gaze without batting an eyelash. That was, at least, until Michael got up. Hadley's screams made her head ring, but he wasn't the only one on the edge of their seat. More than a few operatives in the crowd were about to lose it, the plan was quickly evaporating before them and one of the things people loved to do when things didn't go according to plan was panic.

“Calm down,” Fiona whispered into the mic in her own black and red striped tie, the coolness in her tone almost unsettling. People were going to get needlessly killed if this escalated any further, Fiona couldn't help but feel the emptiness in those eyes that fell upon them. Michael did not sit down, indeed, she saw him go dark with a flick of his finger as he straightened his tie and strode towards the stage. Before she had a moment to really feel the rage of his stupidity the church exploded into chaos. She watched helplessly as it unfolded, holding onto protocol even as everything turned to shit in a blender. The User revealed himself, some twisted mockery of some angelic creature, even as he lifted Michael into the air and set his body aflame. It was then that things got worse.

The crowd moved as one, surging like a tidal wave of flesh over the operatives.

“Fuck!” Fiona snarled, ducking under the arms of a heavy set man. Her right hand curled into a fist and she brought it to bear against the face of a wrinkly old woman, smashing her nose without a second thought and sending her reeling. It was like a bad zombie movie, they surged forth and dragged them down, only kick and punch them to death instead of eating them. More than a few went down before it even started, others burst into flames as easily as Michael did.

It was all going to hell and Fiona was getting pissed. With the trained precision of a veteran operative Fiona lashed out once more, a flurry of fists and shoes, giving herself just a moment's respite to think and assess the situation.

Bill's voice never sounded sweeter than it did at that moment he gave them permission to proceed with the mission. Once these people had been seen as victims, something that could be saved; now they were just what Fiona had always seen them as.

Collateral.

“Acknowledged!” Fiona called out over her open channel, her sapphire orbs flickering closed as she drew inward. Numerous hands were upon her, grasping at her hair, her tie, her jacket and other areas to drag her down and finish her off. It would take just a moment; that was all Fiona needed. She was always so calm and collected, but a seething anger always rippled just under the surface. It took just a moment to release it and with it the floodgates. Even as the Preacher's victims smoldered and burned the temperature began to rise. Those nearby the lush frame of Fiona's felt it first, before in a resounding burst a white hot sphere of what could be described as plasma surrounded her. In a five foot radius about her those poor church goers ceased to be, burned to a crisp in a flash. Those that clung to Fiona turned to dust, just as Hadley had demanded; giving Fiona a brief moment of respite once more.

“Take out the head!” Fiona called out, though she wasn't even sure if her mic was working anymore. She had tried to focus the blast of energy outwards away from herself without actually getting in it as well. While she may be immune to the temperatures she created, her attire and gear were another thing entirely.
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Old 11-05-2012, 10:21 PM   #3
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The church was in a blaze. Bodies were folded over pews and lying in the aisles cooking in the fires that ate at the wooden structure. The smell of human meat was a putrid odor that mingled with the peppery smoke that clogged the lungs of several agents. They coughed and fought for oxygen as they swung and wrestled the User’s servants. All the while, Pastor Goodfellow hovered before the altar, cradled comfortably behind the sunny barrier of his hair that flickered and sparked when bullets came in contact with it. His deep-sea eyes rolled over to the agent that was emptying his clip on his barrier and his searing-hot strands whipped in his direction. The agent instantly became a blur. The pastor’s strands tagged the floorboards where the agent had been, causing a burst of intense flame.

The blonde-haired agent appeared outside of Fiona’s blast radius. A gust of trailing wind that had been trapped in his sprint extinguished a few scattered patches of fire, but it still hadn’t been enough to lower the dramatically rising temperature. He raised his sleeved arm to his forehead, trying to guard it from the heat that licked at his face. From behind black shades, the agent called out to Fiona, “I can’t get anywhere near him without being burnt to a crisp! He has us in a bonfire!”

Pastor Goodfellow’s eyes had narrowed when he witnessed Fiona’s display of power. It had been similar to his own, but he was unconvinced that her spirit was worthy of the same blessing that had made him into one of God’s chosen. Raising a long hand before his face, he curled his wrist before his lips and growled, “What magic is this? What do you know of the Holy Flame? You show me parlor tricks, and I show you the power of God for I am his messenger. I was leading these poor people to salvation. I imbued in their minds Good—something humans are naturally deprived of. Look! Look what you did. They suffer because of you. Leave this holy place, and I will spare your people the wrath of God.”

The blonde speedster smirked and replied, “We’re not going anywhere Firefly. Not without your head! Why don’t we have a contest? Who’s hotter, you or Fiona? Whoops! No competition there. Fiona is clearly on fire in more ways than one.”

The agent lowered his shades and winked the red-head’s way. His name was Kevin Chase, a veteran agent who had been following Fiona since she joined the force. They had both been rookies and battle buddies on several missions, and she may have seen Kevin as just that—a battle buddy—but the blonde felt that they had a connection. That was until Van Buren came into the picture. Every time Fiona was sent to follow the hot head, he couldn’t help but worry for her safety, and also fear for her relationship status. Seeing the two alone always made him nervous.

Pastor Goodfellow raised his chin and uncurled his legs. He lowered his arms as he hovered before them like an ivory doll. His hidden hair follicles gleamed as a surge of heat passed through them like electronic channels, revealing their whereabouts about the room. While he had been talking to the agents, he had scattered his hair in a deadly trap.

Kevin frowned when he saw the orange wave pass around behind him and Fiona. The courage he had displayed before Fiona temporarily diminished along with the color in his face as the probability of dying increased. He nervously regarded Fiona, safe within her fiery shell. Outside, the agents and the remaining church-goers were getting tangled in the User’s strands and melting like rubber.

“You desire my head. Come take it then!” the pastor threatened. “YOU WILL BURN!”

“Fiona!” Kevin cried, calling for the red-head’s help. The pastor’s strands were closing in around them, and there was no place left to run.
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Old 11-06-2012, 02:28 PM   #4
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It was all going to shit faster than Fiona could get a handle on the situation. Both operatives and church-goers alike were bursting into flames, the building itself was quickly catching as well as those hair thin fibers whipped about the room at the Pastor’s will. Fiona took a cleansing breath as she tried to keep her focus, even as the smell of burnt flesh wafted through her senses. It wasn’t a pleasant smell, but this wasn’t the first time, nor probably the last time, that she had smelled it.
From nowhere another operative appeared, a familiar face in a sea of madness. At first it was a relief to have Chase appear, at least she didn’t have to handle this all herself. Kevin had always been a good agent, they had joined near the same time and climbed the rungs together. She always got the feeling that he thought of themselves as more than just co-workers, though truth be told Fiona had never been the type for the pretty boy blonde types. Mixing business with pleasure had never been a good idea either, and there was that rumor that he was just as fast in all aspects as he was with that incredible super speed…
She cast the shade wearing operative a side-long glance as he saddled up beside her, indicating that they had yet to even get close to the hovering monstrosity that was Pastor Goodfellow.

“I need good news, Chase. He isn’t getting any more dead up there by himself!” Fiona called back above the smoldering rumble of the fire raging all about them. Those piercing blue orbs flicked two and fro to try and find a suitable route to the Pastor. Those damned hairs were everywhere, igniting anything and everything they touched on fire with but a brief touch. Their powers were similar in basic function though starkly different elsewhere. Fiona almost felt herself laughing at the righteous in the man’s voice, she couldn’t wait to melt that smug smile off his ugly little face.

It was then his trap was sprung, even as Chase taunted the Pastor those vicious hairs were snapping out into position about them. The situation was looking grim, though Fiona was far from in a position of giving up. Those plush lips pursed tightly against one another and her gaze settled intently upon the hovering beast as he screamed at them. Her wavering, transparent shell of plasma flickered and died as Fiona dismissed it, leaving her open to the elements.

“You are welcome to try, ugly,” She said lightly, her gaze flickering towards Kevin for a brief moment. “Get ready to stop drop and roll. This is gonna get uglier before it gets better.”

Without another word Fiona took a step forward, her hands snapping out to either side of herself. Slender digits flared out and flames licked in between them briefly before she brought them up and over her hand defiantly. With a flourish she thrust both arms downward as searing jets of flames erupted forth from her palms. The force of the burst was akin to a jet engine, providing the lithesome frame enough thrust to life herself in the air. There was no avoiding those damned hairs, but thankfully she knew just where to look for them. Using the momentum from the flaming burst Fiona launched herself into the air, snatching a handful of those hairs in the process and wrapping them about her hand and wrist as she came crashing down onto the stage with a resounding thud. Her clothing smoldered and burst into flames, though the fiery beauty was seemingly unaffected by it. Those cornflower blue orbs settled angrily upon the hovering Pastor as she tightened her grip and yanked with all her might in a wide arc, twisting and yanking the hairs along the way.

“You can’t pray all the up there, Pastor. Come down here and kneel!” Fiona took a step back, jerking the strands with all the strength her lithesome frame could muster.
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Old 11-07-2012, 10:44 AM   #5
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The pastor’s brows knitted in shock when the red belle launched herself into the air. His other hairs that had been snaking towards Kevin sharply veered from their path to rise and follow after her. The blonde whirled, his wide-eyes following the hairs that soared through the air like missiles after Fiona.

“Careful Fi!” he warned. The hairs were locked onto her now, and he needed to find a way to cut them without getting burned.

As the red agent landed before Pastor Goodfellow on stage, his smile had sunk. His lips were turned downward in a menacing frown that marred the ethereal beauty on his face. It perturbed him how she was able to touch his hair, let alone, gather it within her grasp like a bouquet. When she jerked his hair, the pastor lurched forward. The balls of his long feet stomped the stage’s surface to spare him falling to the floor. The User’s head was bowed and his back arched as he resisted the yanks she gave to his scalp. A sapphire eye peeked out at Fiona from behind his sun-bleached mane. The pastor raised his shoulders defiantly and straightened his neck against her tugging.

“So you do not burn like the others,” Pastor Goodfellow noted. His lips snapped upwards into a malicious smile. “Do not get cocky. There is more to me than just fire.”

The hair she had clenched in her hand began to slither up the sleeves of her jacket. The other hairs that had been following climbed her pants leg, spiraling up her toned legs and beneath her panties.

“Did you know that a rhinoceros’s horn is comprised solely of keratin? When hair becomes condensed, it can be as sturdy and just as deadly as a horn. Let’s test that theory,” the pastor explained.

His fibers tightened about her body, gripping her curves and lifting her bosom beneath her charred jacket. Golden hairs continued to crawl across her body, wrapping her arms until they were forced out and her legs until they were forced to close in a saintly pose. The more hair that gathered, the tighter her binds became.

“It’s a shame that we had to meet this way.” The pastor eyed her flesh that swelled temptingly against her restraints. His smile gleamed with lust. “You would have made a lovely member of my church, but it’s always the lovely ones isn’t it? They are the most treacherous.”

“And the sexiest!” Kevin exclaimed. The speedster darted by the pastor and delivered a strong punch to his jaw. The User staggered to his left, his head having snapped to the side from the swift collision. He thrust his arms out to steady himself, and without giving the pastor much of a chance to recover his senses, Kevin blurred by a second time. A second fist struck the opposite side of the pastor’s jaw, knocking him to, and then fro. The onslaught continued, the pastor’s mind reeling in a disoriented fog as rapid fists bombarded his skull. Out of defensive instinct, the pastor raised his arms protectively before his face and a few thin strands of fibers rose in a bird cage about him.

The screech of Kevin’s dress shoes was as audible as a car wreck. The speedster slid right into the fibers and recoiled with an excruciating scream. The agent was engulfed in fire, but rather than stop, drop, and roll, he sprinted away, appearing like a fireball darting up the aisle. The fire quickly extinguished and Kevin slowed to a staggering halt, his skin blotched in red and black patches of burnt flesh. He collapsed against the church doors, his body trembling from the pain and destroyed nerves. Sinking to his knees, he folded over and slipped from consciousness.

The pastor dragged the back of his hand beneath his nose, wiping away a stream of blood. The bruises delivered to his face were already beginning to swell, and his bloodied teeth came together in a triumphant grin. Curled over on his hands and knees, the pastor shook with laughter. Slowly, he climbed back to his lengthy height and lifted his hair, which raised Fiona into the air like a cross, holding her twelve feet in the air so she could gaze upon the carnage.

“God has a way with punishing devils. I have cleansed their spirits with my fire,” the pastor declared. “Look! Is it not beautiful?”

The agents Bill had dispatched for the job were mostly dead or nearing death. They were scattered throughout the church, lying amongst the civilians they had to beat, stab, and incapacitate. A dead agent still had a little boy driving his fists into his chest. It had been David, the oldest son, senselessly fighting until the congestion of smoke in the room caused him to faint.

“You’re all that’s left. Have you not wondered why I kept you alive this long? We are the same. Join me please, so that we can save these pathetic souls. It would hurt me to waste such a beautiful life,” the pastor begged.

The pastor hadn’t noticed the husk of Michael, crawling across the floor behind him. The agent’s flesh was still black and crispy. His teeth that were similarly black were clenched in a frighteningly merry smile. Pressing his palms flat against the floor, he rendered a slow push-up as black flakes tumbled from his body. Burnt flesh along with his dress shirt fell away, leaving him in his tie and what remained of his dress pants.

Parting his teeth, the agent sighed a black sigh as ash and smoke left his throat. His stream of adrenaline began to dramatically thicken as he gazed at the pseudo-angel before him.

Last edited by HotCider : 11-07-2012 at 10:55 AM.
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Old 11-08-2012, 11:09 AM   #6
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For what it was worth, Fiona had done what she had intended to do. The pastor was distracted with her for the time being, it gave Chase a chance to escape the fiery clutches of those hairs. Perhaps he would manage to find an upper hand in all this. Her grip redoubled on those long hairs even as they seared through her clothing, setting the sleeves of her jacket on fire but leaving her flawlessly pale flesh unmarred. She felt the warmth, the undeniable heat that coursed through those fibers; for a moment it was almost exciting. Fire was always something Fiona could control, it was a volatile and dangerous force though, one that she never took lightly. Only a few times in her life had she given in and let it course through her fully, it had been a dangerous and thrilling high and ultimately deadly for anyone around her.

“There’s more to me too,” Fiona retorted sharply, her free hand sliding into her jacket as she whipped out her sidearm and prepared to take aim. At this close range there was little the pastor could do, at least until he showed her just how strong those hairs could be. It was a surprise, that much was evident on her beautiful visage as he snapped them around her limbs and held her fast. It was painful, though that was nothing Fiona couldn’t deal with. What perturbed the veteran operative more was the fact she was in this position, bound and exposed so quickly. The fibers tightened about her wrists, jerking her arms out and Fiona lost her grip upon her gun, not that she could have gotten a good shot off anyway. Those hairs slithered over her frame and caused her to shudder in revulsion, especially as they slid under her pants and caught them abaze as well. That lush, athletic frame was brought to bear here and there as the clothing was consumed, there was no denying the pale flesh and general definition of her body. Nor was there no denying the rather bright panties she wore, a leopard striped thong no less. Despite being captive Fiona struggled against her bonds, raging none to silently. Her lips curled back in a rather vicious sneer and the light in those cornflower blue orbs smoldered with uncontained rage.

“You fucker!” She all but growled, her hands tightening into fists as her arms and legs tensed, trying to resist as she was brought into a rather saintly pose. Despite her rage, she could clearly see the lustful light in the pastor’s blue eyes, that along with his grip was enough to cause another shudder of revulsion to overtake her. “Why don’t you bring me closer so I can show you how treacherous I can be!” Fiona would go out fighting, tooth and nail if she had to; this operative would not go down so quietly or quickly as the others. Yet before the witty banter could continue, a familiar voice cut through the roar of the flames about them. Chase appeared in a whirl, slamming into the pastor with all the force his speed could muster. For a brief, shining moment Fiona thought they had him, no doubt the force of those blows would send the pastor reeling.

Yet his grip remained, Fiona redoubled her own efforts to escape during the distraction, yet it amounted to a great deal of nothing as Chase came crashing down in a flaming inferno as well. Fiona cried out in vain, the bitter taste of bile welling up in the back of her throat. Chase had been their last chance, every other operative was dead or dying now; Fiona would be the last. She doubted her comlink was still active now, hell, her clothing was barely there at this point anyway. She was brought high into the sky and given a grand scene of the carnage about them. The pastor gloated and Fiona watched helplessly, yet it was not entirely despair she felt. That smoldering rage had never diminished, it was every present in that lush frame. She let out another growl of frustration and struggled some more, even as the pastor began again.

“We’re nothing alike! You think I would join you!? I’d rather—“ Fiona stopped in mid-sentence, catching the undeniable movement of a charred body behind the pastor. Michael! He was still alive, though barely it seemed. She knew enough about the operative to know given a few more moments he would be up and ready, nothing short of being burnt to a pile of ash would stop him.

“No!” Fiona cried out again, taking a deep breath and suddenly those blue eyes began to shimmer. “You’re right. I didn’t want to admit it to myself. But you are right, Pastor. Please spare me…together we could save them all! I can feel your strength, the flame of your passion, your fever against me…”

She gently bit down upon her bottom lip, her frame shifting in its bonds. She did not resist further, no, indeed she looked the part of giving up completely. The sincerity in those shimmering blue orbs was undeniable, as was the look upon that ravishing visage. She had seen the lust, the desire in his angelic face. She would give him what he wanted, if only to buy Michael a few more moments to do what he needed. “Let me show you my devotion, Pastor Goodfellow. To you, to the Lord! I’m ready to accept your salvation!”

Hopefully Michael didn’t think she was truly giving in, she tried to give the man a look through it all, nothing to telling but enough to know that she knew he was there. She could only hope now.
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Old 11-09-2012, 03:02 PM   #7
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The pastor watched closely Fiona shift uncomfortably in her bonds. His wheat-like hairs rippled and lapped up and down her flesh, tracing her creamy legs and the curves of her bottom. A slow, lecherous smile quirked on his face as his attention went to the leopard-print thong—the only remaining piece of material upon her person. The tips of his hairs walked across her hips like fingers, lightly burning holes into the thong, hoping to coax it to snap free.

“Show me my dear,” the User demanded on a randy chuckle. “Show me everything.”

Michael’s legs curled beneath him and he pushed off the floor to slowly rise to his feet. Adrenaline was racing throughout his body to the tips of his fingers and toes, and his heart was pulsing loudly within his ears. It drummed rapidly against his chest, exciting the virus within him. He knew it was coming and just that knowledge alone had the chemical gushing through him like a river.

Easing his head back, Michael closed his eyes as a euphoric smile cracked on his lips. The pain that had racked his body before was nullified under the empowering sensation he felt. Stronger, stronger, stronger, stronger; he could hear his brain screaming. Curling his fingers into tight fists, Michael tensed up to brace himself for the transformation.

Michael’s head cocked to the side as his left trapezius swelled. He then was forced forward as the muscles of his upper back billowed over his head; and next, rocked back as his chest muscles down to his abdomen expanded. The belt buckle and button of his pants popped free as the operative’s freakish growth spurt continued. Muscle, bones, and tendons cracked, popped, and creaked as they lengthened and thickened beneath his flesh.

The odd sounds were enough to stir the pastor from his delectable hobby. His blond brows furrowed with suspicion before he turned around and gazed up at a giant that was growing ever larger behind him. With teeth clenched into a wicked smile, from behind his crossed arms, Michael’s amber eyes seemed to gleam like a devil as he gazed upon the little pastor. Pastor Goodfellow stumbled backwards in fright and gasped in horror. Where did this monster come from and how did he not sense him before?

Michael chuckled from behind his malevolent smile before he spoke on a voice that was much deeper than his usual tone, “Heh, heh, heh; oh no, please continue. You were getting to the best part.”

The User began releasing hairs from around Fiona to latch them onto Michael. The giant crossed his arms as he resisted the vice that started wrapping around him like a straight jacket. As the hairs began to glow with heat, smoke rose off of Michael’s body as his flesh started to melt, but agonizing screams didn’t follow the attack. On the contrary, the operative roared with laughter.

Pastor Goodfellow continued to latch lock after lock of hair about the giant. Fiona was lowered to the floor in the process as the pastor became engrossed with the growing threat before him. It bothered him that Michael was laughing, laughing as though he were teasing him with a feather. It was the operative’s pain response, pumping more adrenaline into his system.

Michael straightened; his arms still crossed and bound against his body. The pastor fearfully amplified the heat in his strands and the hairs went from gold to a white so bright, Michael could no longer be seen through the glare.

“I will burn you until there’s nothing left!” Pastor Goodfellow screamed.

The pastor’s eyes widened when he felt a tug on his mane. He felt some of his strands snap until with a mighty roar, Michael uncrossed his arms. The pastor was stunned as he watched his hair scatter like hay. Carelessly, they had landed about the church, feeding the blaze that already ate at the structure. Lamps popped to bathe the church in darkness as the orange and yellow light from the fire lit the three remaining forms.

Michael, having reached the peak of his transformation, stood before the pastor like a great shadow. His teeth, still clenched in a ruthless grin, glistened in the light of the fire, and his eyes glimmered as they reflected the flame. The grey tie was still stubbornly wrapped about his neck and his dress pants had long ripped at the seams, leaving him in a pair of black briefs. They were specifically designed for Michael and his condition. Bill had made the request for them to be made after countless times of being blinded by Michael’s indecency. As for the briefs, they were pretty short and extremely snug as Michael grasped his crotch and dragged his nails against his sac.

“It feels like I gotta cat wrapped about my dick. These briefs are givin’ me a wedgie and makin’ my balls itch,” Michael idly grumbled. Setting the issue aside for now, Michael’s eyes settled on the stunned pastor, who was still paralyzed by the outcome of his hair. The giant reached out to grab two pews and the pastor immediately woke from his coma as soon as his virus began sending him warning signs. Recklessly, Michael slammed the two pews together where the pastor had been. Splinters dangerously exploded all over, but the attack hadn’t caught the pastor. The User had escaped to the ceiling to sprawl against it like a fly. The palms and soles of his hands and feet were flat against the ceiling and his face was wrinkled with rage.

“You cannot kill me that easily! I am-”

The pastor’s eyes near bulged from their sockets when another pew went flying in his direction. He fled the ceiling to dart to a stained-glass window. The pew exploded like a grenade, raining wooden fragments all over. Michael wasn’t going to give the pastor a chance to monologue. He had mentally sunk into berserker mode and was thundering around the church, lobbing pews at the foe. It had felt like a game to the operative. In a fit of frightening laughter, Michael was senselessly destroying the church and crushing the corpses of civilians and operatives beneath his feet. His Alpha virus had targeted the pastor’s T-virus for destruction. The war between them had been left unfinished and Michael was planning to finish it.

Chase from his crumpled position was stirred by the noise and furiously, he watched the disaster unfold. Why? Why did they keep Van Buren? He had to have been a failed experiment. His actions made it difficult to tell him apart from the Users. He crushed everything in his path and cleaning up after him was at times impossible. What bothered him most was the idea that Fiona was caught in the middle of it. With a painful rasp, Chase had made an attempt to get up, but his body was still wrapped in pain.

Fiona, be careful, Chase thought. He only hoped that she heard him.
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Old 11-10-2012, 07:51 AM   #8
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It was a full body creep that made Fiona shiver and not in the good way. That freak of nature was making it exceedingly hard on the operative to keep a straight face and not grimace and recoil in disgust. At best she trembled against those writhing hairs, her muscles tensing as her skin crawled. Michael was taking his sweet ass time, Fiona saw him starting to move but every moment that passed dangling up here in nothing but her skivvies felt like a small eternity. If anymore time went by Fiona would soon even lose that decency, there was no denying the tiny holes that were slowly consuming the material of her underwear. She would soon be at the Pastor's mercy in more ways that one.

Just when it was becoming too much to bear and Fiona's facade began to crack Michael began to rise and with such gained the Pastor's attention. Those slender brows furrowed and twitched before her lips pressed together and literally exploded with a rather explicit scream of fury.

“What the fuck are you doing down there yah dumbshit!? Fucking kill him already!” Fiona demanded, her voice carrying over the thunderous roar of flames and the general chaos all around them. It didn't take long for the Pastor to realize who the biggest threat was at the moment, one by one she felt those hairs loosening their grip on her arms and legs. Soon enough she had enough strength to pull against the bindings, ripping herself from them as bare feet settled on the floor with a thump. And to think that the Church had been chaotic before, what with the general killing and rioting, Michael only added to the it by snatching up pew and pew and sending bits of boot and nails exploding out from everywhere.

Fiona ducked her head and leapt for the edge of the stage, searching for some cover from Michael's shrapnel. The building by this time was being reduced to kindling, if they didn't get out soon the entire structure was bound to come crashing down on them. Michael's general stomp/smash retinue wasn't helping, though it was keeping the Pastor occupied. For such an ungainly freak he was rather dexterous, Fiona had to give that to him, at least. But that didn't solve her present situation, namely how to take control of the mission and see it to the end. With a huff Fiona tumbled from the stage and landed on something clothy and squishy; a fellow agent who had been pummeled to death by the Pastor's mindfucked followers. At the moment Fiona couldn't remember the kid's name, he was a rookie and had taken a severe beaten. If he wasn't dead he soon would be, still, Fiona didn't take time to check. Instead she rolled the kid over and ripped off his bloodstained jacket and flung it around her proud shoulders; it would have to do for the moment. With another swift inspection she found his sidearm which was unfortunately out of ammunition. Silently the fiery redhead cursed her situation before popping her head up to see just what was happening. Michael had the fly pinned near the roof, where he was gleefully flinging wooden pews effortlessly.

It was then that something glinting and metallic caught her eyes, her handgun. It was sitting there in the middle of the stage, covered by bits of broken wood. Without an actual thought the operative leapt back onto the stage and made a diving roll for it. Splinters dug into her flesh and perhaps a nail or two, Fiona wasn't sure and it didn't matter. She felt the cool, reassuring metal of her sidearm as her fingers curled about it once again. This time those hairs were too far away to foil her attempts, busy with Michael and keeping one step ahead of being smashed. With a deep breath Fiona let the tension of the moment go, her rage began to sink and melt away as she centered herself and pulled back the hammer. It took some extreme focus on her part to use the powers of the mind in a situation like this. Things were exploding all around, vision was rather deplorable, nothing more than flickering shades of orange and yellow, the sound of Michael rampaging (she wore she heard him giggling too). With another deep breath Fiona brought her arms out before her, cradling the gun within her grasp as she took aim. The sound faded, replaced by the rhythmic thump of heart.

Even her vision began to fade, at least the general background around the Pastor. She could see it then, the fan of his hairs whipping about him, creating a birdcage of fiery protection about him. But his shield had holes, as tiny as they might be, they were still there.

Fiona took another breath, the gentle sigh echoing in her ears as she steadied herself and positioned the barrel once more. She remained there for several heartbeats, or to her what felt like several minutes. Finally a spot opened up, just for a split second, but it was enough for her focused senses to pick up. She felt the tension of her arm ripple outward towards her finger, even before the digit moved and smoothly pulled the trigger back. It was kind of like watching it in slow motion, the explosion of the powder and gases out the front of the muzzle, the flash and the projectile hurtling towards its ultimate goal. While Michael may have been enjoying himself as he smashed and crushed everything in his path, Fiona had a mission to complete. With a single bullet she hoped to accomplish what nearly a half-dozen pews in the church couldn't accomplish. For good measure Fiona squeezed another round off, this time aiming for the Pastor's face, namely those smug lips that had only a few moments ago worn that lustful grin. It couldn't hurt.
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Old 11-10-2012, 02:41 PM   #9
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The pastor was diving and flipping through the air, dodging pews and then steering clear of the explosive fragments that followed. His heart was racing and he was nearly out of breath. If he didn’t rest, he was going to faint, but if he stopped, he would surely be crushed. Desperately, Pastor Goodfellow swooped on the giant and whipped his scorching hair across his face. Michael’s eyes snapped closed and he bore his teeth against the hair that felt like a thousand, searing pins slicing his skin. His hands rose to wipe at the tiny broken hairs that were left behind. All the while, Pastor Goodfellow took the opportunity to hide.

The User fled to a shadowed corner upon the ceiling. He perched like a cricket in its cradling space, surrounding himself in what remained of his hair. Panting rapidly, he quickly tried to catch his breath before he would find the opportunity to escape. He watched Michael nervously as he wiped at his face and tried to shake the broken ends from it. It was only a matter of moments when the giant would find him, but a moment was all he needed. Briefly, Fiona had entered his mind, and every hair on his body stood on end as he thought in horror, where did she go?

His sapphire eyes darted across the room to settle on the red head, pointing a gun in his direction. The pastor gasped, and the back of his throat suddenly exploded behind him. Blood splashed against the wall as a round had ripped right through his mouth and out the other side. The pastor breathed a pathetic wail as blood welled from his mouth and his grip weakened upon the ceiling. Pastor Goodfellow fell limply towards the floor.

The gunshot had Michael eagerly raising his head, his amber eyes peering over his fingers. His shrunk pupils followed the plummeting form of the user and Michael lunged into a sprint after him. In his final moments, Pastor Goodfellow watched in terror, the giant charging toward him with a large and malicious grin on his face. Just beyond his waist, he could see Fiona standing there. Treacherous…he should have crushed her when he had the chance.

God save me! Please, save me! I don’t want to die! were his last panicked thoughts before Michael brought his large hands together over the pastor in a thunderous clap. Instantly, the pastor had become a splattering of blood and human gum between the operative’s hands.

“Gotcha!” Michael laughed. He parted his hands to allow the blood and limbs to trickle from between his fingers until the loud groan of wood had the giant glancing up at the ceiling cautiously. The stain-glass windows began to shatter as the weight of the church shifted. It didn’t take rocket science to realize that the church was coming down.

Chase was disturbed by Michael’s behavior when it came to the pastor’s death. He had crushed him like a bug, and the way he smiled after wiggling what remained of the pastor between his fingers bothered him. Whatever virus was inside Michael, it was evil and he had no control over it. The groan of the building made the blonde tense. The church was coming down!

Fiona! Fiona, I’m still alive! Chase thought. He tried to make his thoughts loud enough so that she could hear him.

Michael glanced at Fiona and then up at the ceiling as it began dripping chunks of stone and plank. He started toward her and Chase’s eyes widened. They were going to escape together and leave him behind to die.

“W-wait!” he tried to yell, but it hurt even to shout.

Just before Michael reached the red-head, he whirled on a pew and brought the back of his heel against it. The wooden structure went soaring toward Kevin as the white’s of his eyes shined in shock. Slam! The pew met the door, but didn’t shatter.

The foundation of the church gave and the ceiling started rushing toward the floor as Michael dove for Fiona. Seeing the giant leaping toward her might have been startling, but when he got to her, he posted on his hands and knees over top of her to protect her from the crash.

Outside, Bill and an eraser team had the fallen church surrounded. He was chewing some gum to calm his nerves. The supervisor was furious and highly upset about losing operatives. He was certain at least three survived the disaster, Michael of course being one of them. He wanted to wring the rookie’s neck!

His brown eyes darted to the eraser team that was clad in black, hazmat suits. Nodding their way, the team started for the rubble to begin digging up operatives and neutralizing any remains of the T-virus. The idea was to make the church look like a bomb had gone off. When the PRIES technicians were finished screwing with the police radios, Bill and the eraser unit would be long gone.

It was surprisingly warm beneath the church. Michael had shrunk back down to size as his adrenaline calmed and his body was feeling so heavy from weakness that he could barely move. His eyes cracked open to find nothing but darkness before them. Warm soft flesh was cradling his cheeks and that was when he realized it. The operative didn’t dare move another inch. His face was wedged between Fiona’s breasts as he was stuck on top of her. His hard body was on top of hers in a position that would have showered him in sexual harassment charges if he were caught. If he didn’t move, then she might have thought he was unconscious.

If it hadn’t been for the slab of stone ceiling that was pinning himself against her, he might have been able to discreetly slide to the side. But who was he kidding? He felt like the luckiest man on earth. She might have been a hardcore bitch, but he agreed completely with Chase when he said she was hot. She was a fox!

Michael tried to keep his breath steady as he exhaled hotly between her mounds. Thank goodness his crotch was just beneath hers for even if he did decide to get a little happy, she wouldn’t have known. But this was not the time or place to be caught with a damn bone in his pants. He could hear the recovery team pecking around above them. They may have been able to find them sooner if one of them called for assistance. Hopefully Fiona would for for all she knew he was knocked out.
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Old 11-12-2012, 07:08 AM   #10
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Fiona’s aim was true, a better shot she couldn’t have hoped for. The one shot had been enough, more than enough as the inside of the Pastor’s mouth exploded out the back. Those sapphire orbs lingered intently upon the Pastor as he struggled for a moment before dropping down like a fly swatted from the air. She couldn’t deny the thrill of the moment, the accomplishment of taking down this bastard who thoroughly deserved a bullet through the brainpan. The moment caught Michael’s attention and he came bounding in like a child skipping towards an awaiting puppy.

The sound was undeniable as it was stomach churning. Fiona slowly rose, lowering her pistol as she watched the Pastor explode between Michael’s meaty paws like a water balloon, squishing, popping, and crunching all at the same time. While she had seen many a disturbing thing in her time as an Operative, this took the cake, at least at this moment. Thankfully there was little time to let the moment settle, even more thankfully there was nothing in Fiona’s stomach. With a sigh she turned away from the scene and took in the rest of the church, it was falling down around them; they needed to get the hell out of here now. Yet before Fiona could even vocalize the tremendous groan and crack of the structure giving way said more than she ever could.

There was no time to call out, even as her senses were assaulted by more than just the scream of crumbling stone and twisting metal. For a brief, fleeting moment she thought she could hear Chase, was he alive? If he was, there was nothing Fiona could do from her place on the stage, this far in the back her fate was inevitable. She had little in her repertoire to save her from tons of falling debris, unless it was flammable, even then she doubted her abilities. The thundering of Michael’s sudden approach brought her attention back to the giant; was he that lost in his rage that he was going to make Fiona into a pile of mush as well? For a fleeting moment, she thought as much, after all if he was any less of a raging juggernaut Fiona couldn’t tell. Perhaps she was a bit biased, but Michael’s track record spoke for itself. Instinctively she brought the gun level before her, intent on unloading at least one more round before she was turned into a gooey paste, not that a single bullet would do much to stop him.

The world came crashing down then, before she would even squeeze the trigger the building gave one final groan before it came crashing down. She felt the contact of Michael’s frame, smashing against her, thrusting her down to the ground. The noise of the building’s collapse was deafening, Fiona lost all ability to clearly sense her surroundings, and a swift darkness assaulted her and left her reeling. The sensation was intense but it would not last for long, no, all too quickly her senses returned to and the first one was scent.

It was the scent of dust and soot but more than anything the scent of burnt flesh. She wasn’t crushed, her rational mind called out unnecessarily, but she was far from save. There was no denying the feeling of Michael atop her, keeping the debris from crushing her, though it left them in a very awkward position. As the shell that protected her, he was curved over her, his head nestled (a bit too contently) between her pert breasts. Fiona tensed sharply at the realization, she had nothing more than a jacket and her panties to keep her decency, and not that any were really helping at the moment. She felt embarrassed and angry at the same time, though the burning stench of his cooked flesh was perhaps the worst thing she had to deal with at this time.

“Fuck, you smell like burnt fried bologna!” Fiona hissed her frame tensing as she tried to find out just how she was positioned under him. There was no room to speak of, the air was hot and thick with Michael’s stench. It was all becoming too much for Fiona; rarely did she have to deal with such enclosed spaces like this. Her claustrophobia kicked in with an uncontrollable garbled scream. That cool, rational operative quickly reverted into a desperate and frightened mammal, her instincts taking over as that keen mind sharply lashed out at anything within reach, which happened to be Michael’s. She knew he was very much alive and conscious, his surface thoughts assailing her as he recalled just what a great spot he was in. Her fingers tore at his crispy flesh where it could and another cry was released.

“Get me the FUCK out of here! NOW!” She demanded, as if anyone had any current control of the situation. Like razor sharp talons her senses bored further into Michael’s own, tearing past surface thoughts and into true memories. Even now Fiona sensed the presence of others, the erasure team pushing their way in to clean up. Without conscious thought she lashed out at them to, even as she continued to scream for release from this stone prison.

“I swear to fucking god I’ll rip your fucking head off and piss down your throat if you don’t get me the fuck out of here!” She bellowed, easily using up the limited air that seeped through the cracks all around them.
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Old 11-13-2012, 03:07 AM   #11
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Fuck, you smell like burnt fried bologna!

The operative frowned; immediately forgetting that he was supposed to be unconscious.

“You ungrateful bitch! Where’s my thank you for saving your life?” Michael growled. When she started clawing at his flesh, Michael regretted being anywhere near her. He had no idea that she was a claustrophobic maniac. “AGH! What the fuck? You crazy bitch!”

Suddenly it felt like a strange force was invading his mind. The veins on his forehead swelled and his eyes nearly rolled back into his head as his mind began aching. Memories began rapidly forcing their way to the front of his consciousness.

”Michael! Michael look over here!”

There was a little boy standing before a Christmas tree, frowning at a video cam while snug in a fluffy, Christmas-red sweater. The fleece sweater resembled an over-sized cotton ball that had swallowed the poor boy up to his plump cheeks.

“OH! He looks so cute! Smile Michael!” his step-mother squealed.

Michael’s father scratched the back of his head as he felt nothing but pangs of embarrassment for the boy. With his wife wrapped about his arm and holding the camera, his father said, “Uh, I don’t know…don’t you think that the sweater’s a bit loud?”



“Ha ha ha! Look at the fat boy!”

There was a group of three, middle school boys surrounding a chubby kid. They had his book bag and were tossing it between them, making the kid run for it.

“Ha! He’s already out of breath! Why do you want this bag so bad?” one of the bullies asked.

“There must be some cake in it!”

“Ha! Oh man that’s rich. Let’s open it up and see.”

“Brian watch out!”

The large boy tackled the bully known as Brian to the floor harder than any football player would in his life. The kid was stunned. His brown eyes were wide and staring up at the red, round face of his assailant in fear. Raising a meaty fist, the fat kid began wailing on the bully until black and blue became an understatement.



“Michael is that you?”

Michael stopped to regard a young blonde girl. Her hair was in a high, pony-tail, and a varsity cheerleading jacket was about her shoulders. Her blue eyes were glittering with excitement as she jogged over to him.

“Do you remember me? It’s Jenny. We went to the same middle school. You know, Valley Run Middle? Oh my gosh! You’ve lost so much weight.”

The memory that flashed in Michael’s head wasn’t a positive one to remember. She had been one of the bystanders, watching as the three kids tossed his book bag around and giggling with a group of other girls. Michael forced a smile.

“How could I forget?” he replied.

Jenny blushed in embarrassment and lowered her head in shame.

“Michael I’m sorry about that. I was a young and stupid little girl. I don’t even hang with those girls anymore. Look, I just came over to ask if you’d like to come to my party. My parents won’t be home this weekend.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Well, here.” Jenny reached into her book bag and removed an electronic invitation. A hologram of balloons and confetti appeared above the disk as the recorded voice of an exuberant male exclaimed, “You are invited to Jenny’s Party!” The voice went on to explain the date, time, and Jenny’s number.

“Oh my god Jenny!” a brunette screamed across the school lawn and who was also wearing a varsity jacket along with three other girls. They coyly pawed for her to come over and Jenny returned an energetic wave.

Turning to Michael, she winked and mouthed, “Call me,” before she fled over to her friends.

“Did you invite him?” one girl asked.

“Yes!” Jenny squeaked.

There was then an eruption of mad giggles that had Michael staring at the girls stupidly. Jenny simply waved in his direction before she and her girlfriends fled from his sights.



“Michael! Uh!”

Jennifer’s legs were propped against Michael’s shoulders. There was the muffled thump of music going on downstairs as the two fucked on the bed of Jennifer’s parents. Her tits were jumping as Michael pounded into her, the wet clap of his hips against her thighs filling the room, mixing with her pleasured moans and cries.

….

“Please don’t do this Michael!” Jennifer wept. Her eyes were pink and swollen and black eyeliner was rolling down her cheeks. She grabbed his forearms and stared into his eyes. “I’ll give you space, I promise!”

Yanking his arms from her grip, Michael stepped away from her, shaking his head in disbelief.

“No; you have a serious problem. You need some help, and I need a fuckin’ break.”



“Hey, buddy, I think you’ve had enough to drink. I’m gonna have to ask for your keys.”

Michael rose off the stool and started away from the counter. “I didn’t drive.”

The bartender followed him to the door, concern shining in his eyes. “Are you sure you’re going to be all right walking home?”

Michael stepped out of the bar onto the city scape. With his hands seeking warmth within the pockets of his jacket, he started down the sidewalk. “Who said I’m goin’ home?”

“Jesus Christ! What the hell is that?”

Michael stopped and gazed back at the bartender whose face was white with terror. He followed his eyes to the alley next to him, and there was the brief, minute figure of a large, red-eyed, hairy creature. The whole memory went black with repression.


“Get out of my head!” Michael snarled.

“Here, let me give ya a hand.” It was Bill’s voice and he was talking to the erasure team.

The stone slab that had been crushing the two operatives rose into the air. Bill was the first man they would see, standing upon the wood pile of a once-church and frowning down at them—mostly Michael. He was a man in his forties with brown, salt and pepper hair along the edges of his hairline and a jaw as prickly as a cactus. He was sporting a white undershirt and tie with the sleeves rolled up his hairy arms to his elbows. The man always seemed to wear a stern look even when telling a joke as though his life was always that stressful. When being the supervisor of a secret organization, you’d better believe it. He wore beige khakis and a dark-blue jacket that never sat on his shoulders. It instead hung out around the small of his back and in the crooks of his arms.

“Put it over there,” Bill said, appearing to be talking to himself. Bill was actually talking to his imaginary friend Kissy, a being made a reality by the ALPHA virus. Nobody really knows: a) why the creature’s name was Kissy, b) how imaginary friends become an actuality, and c) what Kissy looked like. When asked, Bill always described it as a pink, fairy dragon. The stone slab floated over to a pile of rubble that had already been searched and lowered itself.

Bill scowled down at Michael who was still sprawled across Fiona. The supervisor’s right eye twitched before he shouted, “Van Buren, yer lucky yer endurin’ more pain than the reunion of my fist with yer face! Tell me, are you fuckin’ insane? Do I need to put you in the crazy house over yonder?”

The erasure team separated Michael and Fiona. The weakened operative was moved to the side, having no energy to stand on his own. He was in the beginning stages of his condition: immobilization. The side-effects were to follow shortly if he wasn’t put with medical. Michael closed his eyes, unsure how to answer Bill’s question. He felt ashamed and he didn’t know why. Who knew how the mission would have turned out?

“I didn’t want anyone to get hurt,” Michael confessed guiltily.

Bill glanced around at the rubble and then back at Michael to make a point. “Well because of yer initiative, everyone is fuckin’ dead! I don’t know how I’m gonna explain this to the director. He already thinks yer high-risk.”

“And what if I did nothin’? The User had the entire church turned on us. The only way this whole situation could have been avoided is if we located him outside of service, and then dusted him; but no one knew that he had a whole congregation under his control. Even if you sent someone to collect the intel, it would have had to have been a person that lacked an Alpha virus. The pastor would have sensed otherwise. And everyone isn’t fuckin’ dead. Besides Agent Alden, Agent Chase should be alive,” Michael debated.

Bill turned to the erasure team. “Find Agent Chase! On second thought, Kissy, find Agent Chase.”

Michael opened his eyes and concentrated on the air, hoping to see some shape or form or even the movement of air particles that would prove Kissy’s existence, but there was nothing but the movement of debris. Stone and broken wood began flying through the air as though a creature were stooped and digging.

Bill glanced back at Michael and Fiona. “Get Agent Van Buren out of here—we’ll talk later. Agent Alden, I want you in proper uniform and in my office for debrief immediately. Let’s get this shit cleaned up pronto!”

As Bill started back for the service van, a pew lifted from the rubble and Chase was found safely curled up. He coughed from the floating dust and stared up at the night sky in relief. He survived. Bill’s bristly face appeared behind a dissipating dust cloud. His nose was turned up as he greeted, “You look like shit.”

Kevin smiled sheepishly. “Nice to see you too, Sir.”

“Get me some medical personnel over here. We got another crispy agent.”
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Old 11-13-2012, 07:10 AM   #12
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As Fiona’s senses clawed and tore into Michael’s mind it brought up unbidden memories. It was like watching an old home movie, a third person view with a undeniable connection to the main protagonist, which happened to be Michael. Even as Fiona lashed out and struggled in her concrete coffin she absorbed those memories, the profound emotions that went along with each one. It was an amalgamation of several profound sensations, shame, anger, lust, despair; couple that with the anxiety and panic that raced through Fiona at the moment and it was simply too much for one mind to bear.

“Get the fuck out!” She growled, even if it was her own unique powers that were assaulting Michael; it made no difference now. It wasn’t until another familiar voice joined in and the sudden explosion of light and air that washed out over her dirt smudged face that Fiona began to calm. Never in her life had she been so happy to see that prickly face of Bill Hadley, even with that gruff, no nonsense look he wore brought Fiona ample amounts of relief. With a deep breath Fiona began to calm herself, or at least try to. The erasure team was all about them, her direct Supervisor was before her as well, it wouldn’t look exactly good to look like a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. Michael was literally peeled off her frame, leaving a bit of crust and soot on that unmarred, pale flesh. Fiona pushed up with a grunt, feeling like a massive pile of human excrement. She didn’t add her two cents (for once) as Bill began to berate Michael for the operation going to shit. She was alive, he had saved her life not once but twice, could she really put all the blame on him at this moment? Yet instead of standing up for the man, she simply remained silent, after all if she remembered his personnel file he was about to crash hard.

The jacket she had removed from her fallen fellow operative was torn and tattered, though it still provided her with enough decency to cover her chest, the tails hanging well past her hips and thighs. It was big and bulky, the stench of charred flesh clung to it though. That once immaculate face was smeared with blood and soot, her precisely combed hair was in wild dishevel ; Fiona looked the right mess but at least she wasn’t the only one. For it all, she seemed to be the only operative that could stand on their own two feet, so that had to amount to something. As Bill’s attention turned to her Fiona’s shoulders straightened and she took a more positive posture. All she could offer though was a stout nod as her gaze flickered towards Michael, before the revelation that they weren’t the only operative to survive was made. Fiona couldn’t have been more surprised, and a little bit relieved, to see the pew shoved aside as Bill’s imaginary friend revealed Chase. At the moment she couldn’t care less about Bill’s pink floating dragon of a friend, whatever it was, it proved its use ten times over already. She couldn’t help but think an invisible dragon might have been just what they needed here.

“Right awa—“ Fiona began as Bill told her to get dressed and meet him at his office immediately, though a sudden snap overtook her and her face twisted into a awkward grimace. The snap was that of elastic finally giving way and without Fiona moving her panties simply fell to pool about her ankles; the Pastor’s goal of freeing her from her underwear finally complete. Despite the frown, Fiona did not let it get to her. Instead she kicked the remains into a nearby pile of rubble and cleared her throat. “Right away, Boss.”

Fiona was quick to get the hell out of here, though before she did there was one stop she had to make. The fiery agent emerged at the side of the medical team that was tending to Chase, who did just as Bill described looked like shit. But he was alive, that was all that mattered in the end.

“You do look like some took a dump on your head, Chase;” Fiona commented with a smirk of a smile as she stood at Chase’s side for a brief moment. It was enough, she reached out and brushed a few strands of his now dirty blonde hair from his face before she offered a nod. “Don’t give the team too much shit while you recover. I got to go hear it from Bill now.”

The trek back to her car was a long and lonely one, especially when she had no shoes. Her arms curled about herself as Fiona tugged the jacket closer about her lithesome frame. It was getting cool out, though after such an intense fight it was hard to really gauge; after all Fiona had a habit of generating a copious amounts of heat when she was worked up. She was just thankful she didn’t need keys as she approached the black vehicle built for speed and to simply look awesome. Her hand brushed over the back of the car, releasing the lock calibrated to her own touch. The hatch lifted up on its own accord with a hiss, revealing the compact trunk that contained a duffle bag and briefcase. Fiona always had a spare set of clothing and a gun; she was nothing if not prepared.
As she riffled through her duffle bag Fiona couldn’t help recall those memories that had assaulted her while Michael lay atop her. They flickered and flashed in her mind’s eye, as real a memory as if she had experienced it herself. There were certain parts that stuck out the most though, the brief flash of anger, the intense feeling of desire, the bitterness. Fiona felt herself swallowing heavily as she fought back those emotions, a tremble overtook her before she paused to calm herself.

“Fuck I need a smoke,” She muttered under her breath as she withdrew her jogging gear, it was better than nothing at the moment. Her shorts were slid on leg by leg before they were wiggled up those long, toned legs before she shrugged off the jacket and set it aside. She finished off the attire with a sports bra and top, it was enough to keep her decent until she got back to the office to clean off the blood and dust of the church. Even as she finished up Fiona snapped open the briefcase and fished out a crinkled pack of cigarettes. She had told everyone that she had quit, cold turkey and everything. But after a day like today, who really gave a damn? Fiona withdrew one of the cancer sticks before she slammed the hatch closed and rounded about the vehicle. Her index finger on the right hand was brought before her as the cigarette dangled from between her lips, the tip brushing against the cigarette before it burst into a short lived flame. Just enough for Fiona to take a puff before she inhaled deeply to take the smoke into her lungs and be held for a long moment before she released it with a deep sigh.

“Ahhn, that’s the ticket,” She whispered as her frame settled against the side of the car. She would enjoy the cigarette for a moment or two, Bill would just wait till then.
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Old 11-25-2012, 07:27 PM   #13
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The medical team was cheese-wrapping Chase. They placed his charred body inside the orange tarp and when the bare and shameless Fiona walked over, the medics became distracted from their work, pausing in their actions that would have had them lift Chase onto a hoist. The hoist was a matching-orange, hover device with hooks for the tarp rings. It was designed to effortlessly carry the patient without jostling or carelessness. Kevin’s eyes grew to the size of saucers when Fiona came before him wearing nothing but a burnt jacket. The part in her coat revealed pale, creamy flesh and the swells of her breasts. He saw her navel and his brows near levitated off his forehead when he saw that she had no panties. He stared at the modest veil that hid her succulent lips and blushed. His cheeks glowed red when he realized that even acknowledging the fact that she was in the nude was a sexual harassment violation. Not even Bill had made it apparent that he had taken notice of the thong that snapped free of Fiona’s hips.

Fiona had agreed with Bill’s observation and as she brushed some annoying hairs out of Kevin’s face—they were making his burns hurt more—he flashed her one of his charming smirks and replied, “And you look great.” He mentally bit back the word “sexy.” Now that he was in the presence of the supervisor, he didn’t want to screw up.

“I’ll try not to,” Chase answered. “Be careful. Normally I would accompany you, but I’m all wrapped up at the moment. I call shotgun for next time. I’ll be back in that seat tomorrow!”

Meanwhile, Michael was being fastened into a special stretcher that was actually a component of the machine he would rest in tonight. The stretcher—more like casket in Michael’s opinion—was cut into the shape of a human. His arms, legs, and torso were pinned down by thick bars and his head secured in a foamy cast. Michael closed his eyes as he tried keep himself calm. Every time he was locked into the device, he knew the pain was going to come eventually. He didn’t like to think about it, and he wished the agency would correct the side-effects of his transformation.

A plastic mask was set over his face with circular filters that began flushing in oxygen. The mask came with a bit that fit between his teeth to keep him from biting his tongue off. He could hear his breath quivering as he strained to keep from panicking, the sound of his struggling only added to his anxiety. Why did he have to go through this?

The EMTs were placing red stickers all over his body that would monitor his physical and mental activity during the recovery process. One of the EMTs, a male brunet smiled at Michael with that “everything will be just fine” smile. Michael’s golden eyes shrank in his anger.

“Don’t worry Michael, everything will be just fine,” the EMT said.

It was bad enough he had to say exactly what he thought he would say. Biting hard on the sponge-like bit, Michael had every desire to punch the EMT in his boyish face. He had no idea what he was about to go through. No one did!

The EMTs hefted the stretcher into the back of the van and climbed in after, closing the doors behind them.

Supervisor Bill Hadley’s Office.

A manila folder was parted on his desk with white papers scattered all over. A pair of brown reading glasses was sitting on Bill’s nose as he skimmed over the paper he had in his hands. He had been waiting patiently for Agent Alden to arrive, and as usual, she never let him down. His office wasn’t enormous, and it wasn’t too small. There was a desk, there were seats for visitors, and in the corner was a pile of shredded paper that looked as though a dog had gotten to it. The papers were a bit burnt and they marked where Kissy may have been currently sitting.

“Have a seat,” Bill instructed.

He set down the piece of paper, removed the glasses from his face, and locked his fingers together as he rested them upon his desk. He regarded Agent Alden from beneath stern, brown brows and asked simply, “So what happened? Did I see what I thought I saw or was I drinkin’ too much Jack? Because what I saw was Van Buren showing insubordination and sabotagin’ the mission. Oh trust me, I got nothin’ against him, but I just lost a fuckin’ slew of agents that will not only need to be replaced. There’s gonna be funerals from now until the end of the month! So, since you were charged with watchin’ him, give me one good reason why I shouldn’t suspend Van Buren? Suspendin’ him is as lenient as I can get because The Director wants me to erase him.”

Last edited by HotCider : 12-24-2012 at 02:59 AM.
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Old 11-27-2012, 07:58 AM   #14
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It wasn't exactly a nice long soak Fiona had wanted, but she was still on the clock with Bill waiting on her. Instead she settled for a quick shower, enough to rinse the soot from her hair. The hot water did a wonderful job of pointing out every little nick and cut she took, the painful sting came from all over as Fiona got a good lather going and cleaned herself off fully. But she could handle a little sting, for the most part she had walked away with just those scratches, minus some of her dignity. It would have been easy to let her mind wander back to the two men who had been carried out on stretchers or even those that were carted away in body-bags, though Fiona assured herself she would have some time for reflection later. At the moment she had a meeting with her direct Supervisor who was more than a little pissed at how the entire operation went down. She could only hope that the tongue lashing wasn't too severe.

With minutes to spare Fiona finished off her shower and toweled dry. It could have been easy to take a casual route in attire, after such a big assignment it wasn't like she would be called out into the field right away, even PRIES had limits. But Fiona wasn't the type, she was still on duty and until told otherwise she would act that way. She had always took her job serious, even when it was more mundane as a police officer. The idea was slightly funny, that being a police officer was mundane; but compared to this job few things weren't.

She dressed quickly, another black pants suit, though not as fancy as the one she had wore previously. It was dark and sleek, bringing out the paleness of her skin and the intensity of those bright eyes with a gray blouse underneath. After running a comb through her short hair Fiona almost felt human.

The office itself was too quiet, it wasn't hard to notice the solemn faces as she passed empty desk after empty desk. She couldn't help but feel a bit of doubt in her chest, they had completed the mission, but at what cost?

With ease quick step that brought her closer to Bill's office Fiona felt the dread creeping further in, by the time she rapped a knuckle against the door the silence of the office was almost too much to bear. She waited for Bill's voice before Fiona made her entrance, making sure to close the door behind her before she took a seat in the closest chair to Bill's desk. She unbuttoned her jacket as she moved gracefully into the seat and folded one long leg over the other. Her hair was still wet and swept back, there was no denying the scratch here and the darkening bruise there on her cheeks and brow. Her lips twitched as Bill started in right away, posing a question that didn't really need an answer before he went in for the kill. Fiona didn't interrupt or even open her mouth until he had finished. Only then did Fiona take a gentle breath and let it out with a sigh.

“With all due respect, The Director wasn't there. I won't blow smoke up your ass, Bill. It was a cluster fuck. Michael is insubordinate and reckless, but he also saved me and Chase. The Preacher made us and he acted on his instinct.” Fiona's voice was calm and smooth as she began, though even as she spoke of Michael she couldn't help those vivid flashbacks of memories that weren't hers filled her head. She paused, if only to collect her thoughts before she continued.

“We lost a lot of good men and women today. But we did stop him. I won't say the end justifies the means, it's not my place. But to erase Van Buren is a mistake. We can't afford to lose anyone else, especially now. If you want to fault someone fault me, Sir. I was suppose to be watching him. If the Director needs an ass to chew out I'm prepared for it.”

She met Bill's hard gaze easily as she set across the desk from him, her own hands nestled in her lap, fingers crossed in a similar fashion to his own.
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Old 12-24-2012, 02:58 AM   #15
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Bill slapped his palm upon the table top as he agreed, “You bet your mother’s ass you are. You’re gonna write me a report on everythin’ that happened. You write exactly what happened in that report and don’t try to hide any details. As much as I take your word for it, I still hafta suspend him. There’s a lot of sad and pissed off operatives around here. They won’t go blamin’ Goodfellow cuz he’s dead. No, they’re gonna blame Van Buren cuz he’s the only one ‘round and from the rumors that’s already been carried ‘round here, he’s to blame. I don’t know who’s been passin’ these rumors, but with his temper, it won’t be good for him to stick ‘round. You won’t have to be bothered with watchin’ him while he’s suspended, I got men for that. I need you to focus on the next assignment.”

“As soon as Chase gets outta that pickle jar, which should be tomorrow, you and him are gonna investigate a vampire; and I’m not talkin’ ‘bout them ones in the movies that sparkle and look like an undead Brad Pitt. There’s been word of a giant bat flyin’ ‘round the city suckin’ not blood but the youth from people. We’ve been findin’ shriveled up corpses, lookin’ like raisins in the sun. In the day time, the bat is nowhere to be seen, but intel suspects the bat walks about as a human. I ain’t even tell ya the kicker yet, but here it is. In the day time, you can’t sense the virus. It’s practically cloaked from detection, but at night ya can, which is why at night I prefer you and Chase to start lookin’.”

Sitting back in his chair, Bill began sliding all of the papers into a pile. “That’ll be all Agent Alden,” he said. He picked up the papers and tapped them into a stack before he started sorting them by their page numbers. As he counted them, he paused when he noticed a skip from 13 to 35. He had never noticed the gap before and he suspiciously glanced over to the burnt papers on the floor. Bill didn’t think he was dumb enough to throw a portion of Michael’s file to Kissy. Flipping through the file, he remembered every page, which meant that he didn’t have the operative’s entire file as he should have. Kissy kept guard over the files, so no one could have broken into his office and stolen them.

Bill frowned irritably. He didn’t like not knowing something or…the fact that someone in the agency was keeping information from him. There were only a few people with that kind of power. Sliding the papers back into the folder, he decided that he would inquire with the records office. The original file was electronic, and if any information was missing, he could surely find it there.

The Lab.

Chase was submerged in an acrylic chamber filled with a green liquid. His dead skin had melted in the healing serum, leaving behind pink patches of raw skin that were gradually mending. Outside his tank were several concerned operatives, pleased that he had survived. With a plastic, oxygen mask on his face, Chase retold the story of what happened in the church to his buddies.

“It was terrible! He forced the entire congregation to fight us. If Michael hadn’t gone and disobeyed Hadley, none of this would have happened. We would have definitely had more survivors. The preacher nearly burned me alive, but I used my speed to extinguish the flames. Fiona was definitely a lifesaver though. If it wasn’t for her, I wouldn’t be here right now, “Chase explained.

“Really? Fiona? She seems too much of a bitch to do something like that,” the long-haired brunette operative said.

“Hey come on now Gloria, she saved Kevin. She’s not as bad as you think,” a white-haired, male operative explained.

“Whatever. It won’t change what I think of her, but any who, I’m glad you’re well Kevin, and Van Buren is an asshole.”

“Sheesh, why do they keep him around? He’s ruining the force. At this rate, there won’t be anyone left.”

Chase sighed. “I don’t know. Hadley thinks he’s useful, and if he thinks that, then he isn’t going anywhere anytime soon. Someone has to protect Fiona from him and because I’m her partner, that’s going to be my job.”

“Why?” Gloria questioned distastefully.

“Gloria!” the other male operative gasped.

“I was only joking. Jesus.”
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Old 12-30-2012, 01:23 PM   #16
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Fiona didn’t flinch as Bill slapped his palm down upon the table sharply, the sudden motion cutting through the relatively quiet tone in the room. Those shimmering orbs lingered intently upon Bill’s face as he continued, despite his colorful words he was a professional. It was one of the things that Fiona respected about the man. She listened intently, taking in the decision she would not think to second guess. Fiona was just glad that she wasn’t the one that had to make such a decision; to say it was difficult was an understatement. Instead of needless interrupting Bill as he went from one topic to the other, Fiona simply offered a curt nod, those piercing eyes never once leaving Bill’s face.

The fact that there was already another case at her feet was not surprising, the world never stopped turning and the freaks came out of the wood work (literally – one time at least). She was thankful that Bill decided to stick with her and Chase, it wasn’t that Fiona didn’t work well with others but at the same time there were few that Fiona felt comfortable with. Chase had proven himself a dedicated Agent, even if he was a little cocky sometimes. Still, he was a good agent to have in her corner, she wouldn’t doubt that for a second.

“Yes sir.” Fiona retorted quickly once Bill finished and claimed his spot in his chair. The meeting was over as quickly as it had begun, which was fine with her. Fiona collected herself and rose with a slow grace. One hand buttoned her jacket before she offered another nod of her head, a few slick strands of her short crimson hair fell out over her brow as she did.

“Sir.” Was all she retorted before she turned easily upon the balls of her feet and strode towards the door. She didn’t even hear it click closed behind her as Fiona strode confidently towards her desk. There was an subtle sway of those sleek hips with each step she took, though if one were watching it was really undeniable. With a sigh Fiona claimed her squeaky chair, giving it a scoot to make sure it was indeed still squeaky. She always meant to get that fixed, some WD40 would do the trick easily enough but she never got around to it.

She couldn’t help but think what else was suppose to happen in the office that would never get done now that it was so barren. With a sigh Fiona leaned back in the chair and let out a low, long squeak as she did. For a moment she simply let herself remain there, for the moment she simply let herself be and absorb it all over once more. Fiona closed her eyes and recalled the events as they unfolded, though she couldn’t control the vivid flashes of memories that weren’t hers flutter up into her mind’s eye over and over.

Finally it became simply too much, with a snort Fiona pushed up and her eyes flared open, unfocused for a moment before they settled upon her spartan desktop.

She had relatively few personal accouterments that adorned the top of her desk. Only two things stood out at the moment, her old badge from her days as a police officer and a single faded photograph of a happy couple standing in front of an ancient tree. Fiona let her gaze trail over them both in turn, absorbing the details of each before she simply let out another gentle sigh and reached for her mouse. The screen of her computer flicked to life and without another pause Fiona set about writing up that report. She wrote it up as straight forward as she could, painting Michael in the correct and unbiased light, though she did leave out the detail of her clothing being burnt to a crisp.
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Old 12-30-2012, 07:40 PM   #17
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PRIES
Paranormal Research Investigation & Eradication Specialists

Mission 2: The Vampire


Scientists and doctors surrounded the capsule that contained Michael when the pressure locks were released. The doors hissed open and the locks that had been holding him retracted and weakly, the operative collapsed forward into the awaiting hands of the medical personnel. His face glistened with sweat from the pain he endured, and the lingering sensation of flames licking at his skin caused him to tremble. Michael tried to shrug the hands that clung to him free as they slowly lowered him to his knees.

“Let go of me,” he rasped.

When the scientists released him, he slumped upon his side and curled up into a ball as he braced himself against the lingering assaults to his nerves and consciousness. Fire; the flames still hadn’t extinguished for the hours he spent screaming in the chamber.

Why does this fucking keep happening to me? he thought.

Two minutes after leaving the chamber, his side-effects ceased. His mind was no longer tormented with fire and his body felt only relief. It was as though he had never been burned. Michael stretched out, prone and panting softly. He needed to take off. He was in no mood to endure another sleepless night of Hell. He rose sluggishly to his feet and a doctor directed a hovering wheel chair over to him. Michael sneered at the sight of it.

“Mr. Van Buren, where are you going?” one of the doctors asked.

“To bed,” he answered simply as he dismissively walked past the offered chair.

“But we need to run more tests. You may not think so, but we are all trying to cure you of your problem. The supervisor personally came to us and demanded that we try to do everything in our power to help you.”

Michael stopped before the lab doors as they slid apart and peered over his shoulder at the doctor.

“You are talking about Bill right?”

“Yes.”

That was strange. Bill didn’t care about anyone but his job and himself. Well, at least he seemed that way. It irked him just thinking about Bill secretly caring so much about him, and if the research was to solve the issue with his Alpha, then why should he ignore it? Michael dragged his hand across his face and moaned inwardly. He just wanted to sleep.

“How long will this take?”

“Only ten minutes of your time.”

“All right; let’s go.”


The glass platform glowed green beneath him and black, hair-like sensors were strewn throughout it. It was cold, he was naked, and Michael laid there on the verge of sleeping with his hands folded over his crotch. It was embarrassing enough that he had to be naked for their said tests. With his honey eyes barely opened, he stared absently up at the ceiling as a green beam passed over him like a scanner. The soft electronic whir it made was a lullaby to his ears and briefly he might have actually faded out for a few minutes.

“Mr. Van Buren,” the doctor’s voice though on an inside volume rang loudly in his ears.

Michael’s eyes widened in shock.

“We’re finished. We’re going to examine the data and we’ll let you know if we find anything of concern.”

Michael sat up and turned to slide off the examining table. He walked over to the modified briefs folded upon the counter and scowled.

“You guys need to fix these shorts here. I’m not taking them. Just get me a hospital gown.”

“Will do Mr. Van Buren.”


Supervisor Bill Hadley’s Office.

Michael was dressed snug in a black coat with brown faux-fur lining his hood and an Army-green skull cap. He still hadn’t slept for when he returned to his room he had discovered a notice saying he was suspended. If it had been any other day, he might have thrown a fit, but after the events of last night, he needed the break. He needed a break from this uncanny life he lived. A backpack with what he would need for the week was sitting between his legs as he groggily awaited Bill’s explanation.

Bill was flipping through his suspension papers and signing the documents before he bothered to explain what they were about, but they both knew.

“I’m not going to waste your time, Van Buren. You’re suspended for awhile. The Director wasn’t too happy with your performance last night, and I thought you could use the break. You’re not too upset about it are ya?”

“Nope,” Michael said plainly. He was anxious to leave.

“Good. The agency got you a nice hotel room at the Hyatt. It’s paid but the food ain’t. You just go there and relax for awhile, all right? Don’t go thinkin’ the death of them operatives was your fault.”

Michael blinked. “Who said it was my fault?”

Bill clapped a hand over his face. He had been trying not to get Michael riled up about the suspension, but instead he got him riled up because he had said too much.

“Van Buren, just take these papers and you can be on your way.”

Michael abruptly stood from his chair.

“They think it’s my fault those operatives died? Is that why I’m being fucking suspended?”

“No; not exactly. Look, just take these damn papers and get the hell out of my office!”

“Fuck those papers man! The crazy fucking preacher was going to kill everyone if I didn’t do something. I was the only one there that could afford to get my ass burnt. I am the expendable one right? That’s why you made me this way!”

Bill’s face flushed with anger. “I didn’t make you that way! I’m a fucking supervisor. My job is to deal with hot heads like you. Now for the last time, get out of my office!”

“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me who said I was responsible! Who reported to you? Chase? Alden? I’m gonna kick their asses if I see them again!”

“Kissy!”

Michael instantly fell silent as he then began to cautiously survey the office. Suddenly what felt like a battering ram struck his abdomen and forced the wind from his lips. The supposed fairy dragon popped open the door and shoved the operative out of Bill’s office.

“Don’t forget these papers!” Bill called.

The papers floated out of his hands and followed after Michael. Red-faced and baring his teeth angrily, Michael wrapped his arms about what felt to be the creature’s snout and dug the soles of his boots into the floor.

“I’ve been waiting for this!” he growled.

Several operatives paused in the hall to watch in confusion Michael wrestling the air. He was soon hefted into the air and slammed against the ceiling and then dropped and crushed upon the floor. Michael was sprawled out and wincing on the floor as though something fat and heavy had landed on him.

“Fuck…what the hell is this thing?” he groaned.

Suddenly he was snagged by the back of his coat and was dragged flailing and kicking like a wet cat.

“Let go of me you fat fuck! I’m not finished with you!”

Chase poked his head out of the break room and smiled when he saw Michael pissed and sliding by along the floor.

“Ha! Good boy…or girl Kissy; take out the trash!” the speedster praised.

Michael glared at the operative with an ugly look that had put Chase on the edge for a second, but then he remembered that he could outrun The Berserker any day. A cocky smirk cocked on his face as he gave Michael a challenging look. The operative slammed the soles of his boots flat against the floor until they began to screech and slowly began rising to his feet. He thrust out his arms and resisted Kissy’s tugs to the point that he practically near stood.

“Come fight me you son of a bitch!” Michael hissed.

Chase uttered a short laugh and closed the gap between him and Michael in a blur. He braked inches from Michael’s face just wanting to savor the brief expression of startle that flashed on his face when he saw how fast he moved.

“You’re no match for me Michael. Just take your seat on the bench and let the veterans take over. Our next mission doesn’t require rookies.”

He dealt a swift kick to Michael’s chest that had the operative yanked down onto his back by Kissy and dragged into the elevator.

“JUST YOU WAIT PUNK! I’M GONNA KNOCK THAT SMUG LOOK OFF YOUR-”

The elevator doors closed.

Gloria poked her head out of the break room with a frosted doughnut between her lips. She cupped it and sank her teeth into it as it gushed with strawberry jam.

“Let me guess, Michael.”

“Who else? Oh man you missed it. Kissy was dragging him across the floor like a toy,” Chase laughed.

Gloria giggled mildly at the thought before her white-haired partner, Nick joined them. His hands reached up through the floor before he pulled the rest of himself up. Chase jumped back from the operative in startle.

“Dude, what the fuck? You scare me when you do that shit!” he exclaimed.

“The mighty Kevin scared?” Nick arched a brow and then stood, patting his hand across his clothes. “I was just testing my Alpha. I didn’t feel like taking the elevator or the stairs, so I thought why not take a short cut? But any who, you guys ready for tonight’s mission?”

Biting into her doughnut, Gloria added, “I think they’re ready to get out-shined.”

Chase glanced in disbelief at Gloria and Nick. “What? Since when did me and Fiona ever come second to you has-beens?”

Finishing her doughnut, she licked her lips and headed back to the break room. “You give yourself too much credit Chase. I don’t think you and Fiona even come in second.”

“Ouch,” Nick commented with a smirk before he followed his partner into the break room.

Chase couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Whaa~t?”

He followed the two operatives into the break room.

Chuck’s Diner - 11:30AM

After running into Chase that morning and learning from Bill that the agency was blaming him for the deaths of the operatives, Michael wasn’t going to be able to sleep for awhile. He had a headache and felt slightly stressed. After everything he did: saving Fiona and Kevin, and helping them swat the bad guy, he was paying for something he wasn’t even sure anyone could have prevented. He had meditated over different scenarios in his mind and each one resulted in people getting hurt.

Hunched over a mug of Herbal Relaxation—at least that was what the brand of tea was called—he cradled it in his hands before taking a sip from the sweet liquid. It hadn’t even been five minutes after he finished the mug that he was slumped over in his booth with his head tucked in his coat. Outside the café window in a long coat was a young woman crouched and watching the strange man in the café sleep. Her green eyes were large and curious and a playful smile was on her lips. She wrapped lightly on the glass until the man stirred.

Michael’s eyes cracked open as he glanced around at his surroundings. Shit, he was still in the café. Slowly, he sat up in his chair wiping a trail of drool from the corner of his mouth that he was surprised was there.

Tea knocked my ass out, he thought before he stretched his arms out and expelled a large yawn.

The café door slid open and emitted an electronic blip akin to an arcade game. The girl that had been outside approached Michael’s booth as he was dropping some credits on his bill.

“I saw you drooling!” the girl laughed.

Michael wrinkled his nose at the voice that filtered in his direction but when his eyes darted to its owner, the irritable look instantly left him. The strange girl stood before him in a red sweater, black slacks and a long coat. Her hair laid about her shoulders in fiery tendrils and freckles dotted the area just above her nose. What had mainly caught his attention was the clothes she was wearing. The sweater seemed a bit small as it clung to her torso and outlined her tits that were slightly smaller than Fiona’s. The slacks were too big and held fast by a belt fastened on its last hole. As odd as this girl may have been, she was a gorgeous sight and he…well…he was no queer.

With a player’s smile, Michael sat back in his booth and rested his arm across the back of his seat as he greeted coolly, “Hi.”

“Hi, I’m Emily.”

“Michael.”

She was very straightforward, and so was he. He held his hand out to the seat across from him and offered, “Join me.”

With an excited smile, the girl plopped down and Michael bowed his head to hide the smile that had curled at his lips. She was too cute.

“So…you live around here?”

“Yes. Do you?”

“Yep.”

“Oh my gosh! Can I come over?”

Michael’s brows shot upward in shock. Okay, this wasn’t how a normal conversation went. A girl never invited herself to a man’s house. Well, not at the beginning. Not so soon. Who was this girl? What was going on here? He felt suddenly mind-fucked, but he couldn’t just leave her hanging. Did he want the hotty over or not?

“Sure. Why not?” he said with a cool smile.

“Let’s go!”

Michael felt awkward leaving the café with...Emily. They talked more along the way, but still she didn’t get much from him and he didn’t get much from her. If it hadn’t been for the secret life he lived, he might have had more to say. He got her food from room service and he gave her his bed as he slept on the floor with a pillow and blanket.

Michael’s Hotel Room. 9:30 PM.

The covers rose as two, brown, leaf-like ears emerged. A pointy snout surfaced from beneath the pillow before the creature hefted itself on its bony arms and torn, spider web wings. The bat flexed its pink nostrils before it turned its white eyes to the slumbering figure on the floor. With a quiet, rumbling hiss, it crept across the bed and posted its clawed wing upon the floor. Spreading its jaws, it revealed its needle rows and the four lengthy fangs that were as clear as glass and hollow like straws. The bat passed its fangs over Michael and paused when the operative rolled over to face it. Still sound asleep and still wearing his skull cap, he was dressed in a white tank and black, boxer-briefs. He drew the blanket up to his shoulder and wrapped his arm about his pillow to cradle it against his head.

The bat retracted its fangs and closed its mouth to stare at the operative indifferently. Swiftly, it crawled over to the hotel window and popped it open before it crawled outside along the wall. Flexing its ears against the winter winds, it felt for the current before it lept into the air and searched the city for its next victim.


Parking Lot.

Chase was rearing to go. He had on his black goggles to protect his eyes from any bugs or debris he might catch in them. They were currently sitting on his head as he jogged over to Fiona’s car like a dog excited for a ride.

“Woo! You feel that? That must be Batman!” Chase howled. “I’ve been waiting anxiously for this day.”

He waved his hands over the passenger’s side of Fiona’s car in glamorous presentation. “When Kevin Chase reclaims the throne. I hope you kept it warm for me. No! I hope you kept it cold. If it was warm, I might get suspicious. Come on, let’s go!”

His mouth was moving at a hundred miles an hour much like how he liked to move on a regular basis.

Last edited by HotCider : 12-31-2012 at 12:33 AM.
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Old 12-31-2012, 02:01 PM   #18
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Fiona took the corner just as she cracked the seal on the can of diet soda as the scene exploded in front of the break room. Michael was floating and flailing in the air with that familiar look of anger upon his face. It all happened so quickly, the last thing Fiona expected was this in the middle of the floor. The soda hovered in front of her with one hand over the top, her fingers still curled under the tab. She wore she could almost smell the testosterone in the air as Chase and Van Buren huffed and puffed at each, the ever present thing that Kissy was keeping Michael from achieving much but looking rather idiotic.

The situation quickly deteriorated, much to Fiona’s chagrin. The way the men acted, well, she couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed in them both. There had been enough death in the department for one day; it seemed that both of them were content to throw another body on the pile, preferably the other. With a sigh slipping past her lips Fiona watched the scene end as Michael was dragged into the elevator, his voice cut off as the doors closed. At least Kissy was smart enough to get Michael out of there before it escalated further. She offered a shake of her head as she finished opening her soda and brought it to her lips before she took a sip.

“Fucking amateurs,” She muttered under her breath as she stalked past the breakroom and back towards her desk.

_______

Fiona leaned against the side of her car with her arms crossed before her, one hand resting in front of her mouth with a slender cigarette dangling from between her fingers. The tip smoldered cherry red as she took a puff and held it for a brief moment before she released it with a sigh. The day had been long and arduous and according to the intel (or let thereof) the night promised to be just as difficult.

She had changed into something more suitable for night time intelligence gathering. Sleek and black, it offered more mobility than her normal attire and still had room for her gear, just underneath her jacket lay her service pistol and utility knife, mostly hidden under the folds. Her hair was loose and free of most style, a few bangs hung loosely before her beautiful visage, the rest slicked back and falling behind her ears and tickling at her neck. From the look upon her face it could be said she was deep in thought, or perhaps lack of any real thought at all. It wasn’t until Chase literally bounded up to the chair that she roused from her daze. With another huff she finished her cigarette and flicked the butt away before releasing the lock on the doors.

“How can your mouth move so fast all the time?” She mumbled as the door was flung open and Fiona slid inside with one fluid, graceful flourish.
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Old 01-06-2013, 03:04 AM   #19
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Sliding into the passenger seat, Kevin flashed Fiona a cool grin as though he thought she was impressed. Closing the door, he adjusted the chair into a reclining position and crossed his arms behind his head.

“Aah,” he breathed before a proud smile stretched across his face.

The speedster was convinced that the shotgun seat of Fiona’s vehicle was reserved for his ass only. He had been her partner since they first joined the force, and the seat next to her had meant everything to him. From what he’s seen, no one else has ever sat there not even Van Buren.

“Let’s get this show on the road!” Kevin said excitedly.

The ride wasn’t at all quiet. Kevin had cut on Fiona’s radio as though he owned the vehicle and was jamming in the chair next to her to techno. He pulled down his goggles to simulate sunglasses as he made robot motions with his arms. Then suddenly to his shock, a motorcycle cut in front of Fiona’s car. The passengers on it were Gloria and Nick, trying to race them to the kill—at least that’s what Kevin thought.

“HEY!” Kevin abruptly yelled. Smashing his finger on the window button, his window shot down and he poked his head out, really seeming like a dog as he rested his hands on the door and was sticking halfway out the car.

“Piss off, it’s ours!” he roared.

Gloria turned her head to carelessly gaze back at the frowning Chase. She tightened her grip about Nick, pressing her cheek to his back before she held out her finger and a sheet of frost flashed onto Fiona’s window shield.

“HEY!” Chase screamed in protest before he yelled back at Fiona, “Fiona faster! They’re trying to beat us!”

Her partner was extremely competitive, especially when it came to races. Kevin was proud of his speed, having always been a runner even before PRIES imbued him with his Alpha. There was congestion up ahead that would slow their advance. Kevin smirked, thinking Gloria’s team wouldn’t get far until Nick turned his head and smirked coolly over his shoulder. He, Gloria, and his motorcycle phased through the congestion like spirits.

“What the hell?” Chase angrily thought aloud. “That’s cheating!”

Last edited by HotCider : 01-11-2013 at 10:19 PM.
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Old 01-13-2013, 08:32 AM   #20
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It was like old times, not that it really had any good vibes to go along with such. It was like the rest of the day hadn't happened, all those agents hadn't been killed along with so many civilians. How people managed to just push it down inside was amazing really, Fiona herself tried such but it only succeeded in making her feel miserable.

Just an underlying tension that bubbled up into a foul mood. Not that she was exactly the bright and cheery type to begin with, especially when she was on duty. She could be, as many agents had already pointed out, a down right bitch.

She wasn't here to make friends or just get a pay check. Fiona hadn't signed up for either of those things, nor was she out for the glory and praise or even the rush of using the powers bestowed upon her. It was a sense of duty that drove her, something deep down inside that wanted to see the things that went bump in the night put to rest. The fact that very few took the job as seriously was an ever present annoyance.

Chase was riding her last nerve already, by the time he started in with the 'wub-wub' noise (Fiona would never admit that it was music) she was about to snap. One slender brow twitched slightly and her lips pressed together in a firm line, already the look upon that pretty face could chill Death itself. Still, Chase was oblivious, then again, he always was.

This was nothing new, Chase always played the part of the excited puppy in her passenger seat. He could have just as well leapt out of the car and left her in the dust if he really wanted to, it was more of an honor to ride at Fiona's side, or so he gave off such an impression.

“Alright Dr. Roboto-” Fiona began but before she could tell the speedster to slow his proverbial roll and turn that shit down a bike roared past them and neatly cut them off. Fiona gripped the wheel tighter but didn't adjust her course, the biker was already well in front of them and the familiar faces came into view.

Fiona couldn't help the groan as the sight, not so much Nick but the other one, Gloria. That one right there had an attitude problem, though Fiona would more thoroughly enjoy whooping the girl's ass and smearing it across the street. The fact they had almost opposite abilities didn't help anything. With Chase screaming at her side Fiona had just enough of a distraction to miss the hand movement and the blast of frost over her windshield was enough to take the agent back for just a moment. It was enough to disturb her vision, like the frost on the car after a cold night.

It took a moment before something like a growl came from Fiona's throat. One hand rose and her fingertips pressed against the windshield.

“What the fuck is this shit?!” She snarled and started to rub at the window as if she could remove the frost. Indeed, it started to melt and slosh away as Fiona heated up her fingertips and used them to de-thaw the window, at least her side.

“Gimme that fucking radio!” She snapped as Chase blurted out his thoughts angrily. Fiona fumbled for the hand-held radio and flipped the switch before her voice rolled over the channel like thunder.




“Is this fucking Kindergarten time?! The next fuckhead who thinks they don't have to take their job seriously is going to find their ass planted permanently behind a desk pushing papers, you got it??”

Rarely did Fiona explode, more often than not she was in control of herself and the situation, but just as she had been when she was trapped underneath Michael and the collapsed building, Fiona simply snapped. For a moment a part of her couldn't help but think of Bill when he cried out over the radio in a similar fashion. With a huff Fiona tossed the radio into Chase's lap and flared her nostrils.

“You kids are going to get us killed,” She said with a certain amount of disgust, still her eyes lingered intently upon the road, even as they started to slow because of the congestion.

“Fuck,” She grumbled, rapping her fingers against the steering wheel. “Why don't you go scout and make sure those two knucklefucks don't get themselves killed...”
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Old 01-13-2013, 07:00 PM   #21
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Chase sank back into the passenger seat and grasped the radio off the floor to hand to Fiona. The agent stared at Fiona in mild-astonishment as she roared into the radio at the two other agents. He knew that she had a temper similar to Van Buren’s—that he refuses to claim so—but he didn’t think she would get so upset over the competition. When she tossed the radio into his lap, Chase glanced down at it and then up at her with concern.

You kids are going to get us killed.

Chase was anxious to ask if she was feeling all right. The night before must have put her on edge. It had been one of the worst massacres PRIES has ever had, but it still hadn’t made the history books. No, there were worst creatures PRIES had to deal with. Primarily, The Legendaries.

Fuck…Why don’t you go scout and make sure those two knucklefucks don’t get themselves killed…

Her partner was hesitant to leave the vehicle as he still battled his conscience, but figuring she may have needed some time alone, he pulled down his goggles and smiled at her just as reassuringly as always.

“I’m on it,” he replied.

Kevin climbed out of the car and jumped onto the street to melt into a blur that darted down the sidewalk.

The Lab.

The doors to the science sector slid open and Bill stepped into a dimly-lit room with nothing but the glow of capsules filled with green recovery serum and other experiments he hadn’t quite understood. A man in a white coat was quick to turn from one of the consoles to greet the supervisor.

“Good Evening Supervisor,” the scientist greeted.

“Save the formalities. Do you have the data I requested?” Bill asked, getting right to the point as usual.

The scientist made a sheepish face that immediately got him the stink eye from Bill. Fondling his hands nervously, the scientist explained, “Well, you see, The Director came and well, he has the data.”

Bill scowled deeply. “Did you tell him about my request?”

“No. I don’t know how he found out about it. We weren’t even expecting him. He just came in and asked for the data and well…we couldn’t say no.”

Bill stared thoughtfully into the back of his mind. He rested some fingers against his lips as he reviewed his suspicions.

“Did you make a copy of the data collected from Van Buren?”

“Unfortunately, no. We were expecting only you, Sir.”

“Shit,” Bill growled. “Well, can you tell me if there were any changes with Van Buren’s virus?”

“Yes, there was-”


Supervisor Bill Hadley, The Director requests your presence.

The two fell silent and Bill tensed a little at the summons. The Director was so unpredictable, but then again, he was. He could read the mind of every agent in the department but his. The mutation hadn’t settled well with The Director, and even he almost faced erasure once.

“Evenin’ Doctor,” Bill bade.

“Evening, Supervisor.”

Back alley in the projects.

Chase had done as he was told and followed Nick and Gloria into a project. They were standing around an alley, watching the creature around the corner. Nick and Gloria were hunched next to a tobacco store and Chase stood across from them with his fingers curled about his blaster. The bat was hunched over an unconscious male and next to him was a curled, dried husk of what could have been an acquaintance of his. The agents watched in horror and fascination, the creature sink its teeth into the man and drain him of his vitae. He shrank until he was nothing but flesh and bones clenched in its maw, its mammaries having swelled in a manner the backside of a mosquito might have.

“It seems our batman is a batwoman,” Chase whispered into his earpiece.

Even at a whisper, the bat’s ears perked and expanded like satellite receptors. Its red eyes stared down the alley to where it had heard the noise and an outbreak of goosebumps crawled along their flesh.

“Fuck, it heard you Chase,” Gloria gasped.

Spreading its maw, the bat expelled a scream that vibrated the dumpster and trash cans until they exploded and the husks at its feet were ripped apart by the sound waves. Windows shattered, car alarms sounded before the cars’ windshields cracked and Chase and Gloria grasped their ears, screaming in agony as they tried to block out the sound. Nick had phased through the noise and seeing his agents being assaulted, he removed his gun, turned down the alley and fired a sphere of crackling plasma at the creature. The yellow sphere struck the creature’s shoulder and the bat’s sonic screams ceased with a pained shriek. Wasting no time, the creature sprang to the wall of the building and scaled it to the roof where it disappeared.

Nick had followed its movements before he turned to check on Chase and Gloria who were lying unconscious on the sidewalk.

“Shit,” he cursed and spoke to Fiona into his earpiece, “Kevin and Gloria are down. The bat overheard Kevin talking into his earpiece, and attacked us. It got away but it’s still close by. I’m outside the tobacco store on Grace Street. If you come pick up Gloria and Nick, we can still track it until it changes back.”
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Old 01-14-2013, 07:47 AM   #22
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Fiona breathed an audible sigh of relief as Chase climbed from the car and took off faster than her four wheels could ever possibly go. There was still a smoldering rage inside her as she drummed the wheel, her vehicle coming to a complete stop only a few moments later.

She stared off into the sea of red lights that flickered and flashed before her, the occasional sound of a horn and the rumble of engines echoing about her. She felt frustrated and alone, not that the latter hadn't been her own doing. She had sent Chase off before she even realized it, the very idea was a little unsettling. The speedster was a hothead, as much as everyone wanted to point the finger as Van Buren, more than a few agents had something to prove.

He was an experienced agent though, Nick and Gloria too even if they had a rather annoying habit of making things into a competition. Still, Fiona couldn't help the uneasy feeling in her gut as she inched forward.

What she wouldn't give for some way to fly or teleport at the moment. The best she could do was melt an engine block into a solid piece of searing hot metal.


By the time that Fiona got clear of the traffic she was thoroughly on her own. The rest of the group had gone some ways in tracking the suspected vampire, or whatever it really was. Fiona kept back and circled the suspected area, just in case things decided to go sour or the creature wanted to make a sudden escape. What she wasn't expecting was to hear Nick call out over the radio that he had two down and creature was escaping.

“Shit,” Fiona snarled as she snatched the wheel and gave it a sudden twist. The wheels of her car screeched as she spun into oncoming traffic and righted herself to head in the opposite direction from whence she came.

“Roger that. I'm on my way. Keep them covered!” Fiona snapped back as she floored it. Finally the sleek design and massive engine came into play. It didn't take long for Fiona to make it there, much to the anger of many a motorist and a few pedestrians. The roar of her engine announced her arrival, Fiona came to a screeching halt on a dime before she flung open the door and was on the curb with the trio.

“Which way did it go?” Fiona asked as she surveyed the damage, which was pretty impressive display of mangled metal and broken glass. The two agents were unconscious but didn't look too severely hurt. Already she was on her knees beside them, one hand brushed out against Chase's neck to check for signs of a pulse. She reached out with her own subtle powers and found both of them stable, at least for the moment. She was far from a medic but there wasn't time wait for a response team.

“Get them in the car, we got a bat to catch,” Fiona instructed as she turned from Chase and wrapped her arms around the unconscious Gloria and lifted her. Fiona strained against the dead weight of the human body, while she was physically fit the simple dead weight of a body and the awkwardness of it all wasn't exactly something she was use to. She half lifted, half dragged the woman to her car and slid her into the space behind the seats. There wasn't exactly a lot of room for so many passengers, like stacking slabs of meat. With a grunt Fiona shoved her the rest of the way and climbed in.

“Hurry up and get in, yah spook,” Fiona called out as she gave the engine a rev and slammed her door shut. There was a tingle still, the thing couldn't get too far. It was wounded and on alert, perhaps frazzled from the sudden encounter. They could take advantage of the situation or at least Fiona hoped. Time was running short already.

It didn't take long to get back on the trail, Fiona weaved through traffic like a pro on a race track, so much for taking it easy and trying not to get people killed.

The minutes were fluttering away by the time they came upon the unfamiliar facade of the motel building. It had to be here, Fiona could literally taste it now. She pulled into a space and reached for her gun, though she hesitated as her gaze flickered to the side and the still unconscious bodies in the back seat. She didn't feel right about leaving them here so defenseless but neither could they call it quits.

“Back ups going to be too far out to do us any good,” She said as the seat belt was unbuckled and tossed aside.
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Old 01-20-2013, 07:27 PM   #23
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Which way did it go?

Nick pointed at the sky as though it had meant something to the agent and reported, "I saw it disappear over those buildings."

As he gathered Chase into his arms to haul him into the car, he reiterated the information they had gathered, "The bat has acute hearing, can generate sound up to a dangerous amount of decibels, and it's a woman. As she was draining her victims, oddly..."

Nick phased into the passenger seat with warm spots of blush on his cheeks as he described further, "It seemed that her breasts were growing larger. I don't know exactly what the purpose of that is, but let's hope not to feed any young."

As Fiona tore through the city, Nick was quiet as he remained focused on the viral signature. He peered over his shoulder, watching as Kevin and Gloria rocked about to the vehicle's jarring. He felt guilty for having to stack them in the back, knowing well that when they'd wake, they were going to be upset. The bat had them on a wild goose chase and as Nick kept glancing to the time, he had an idea why. The creature was smarter than they gave her credit for. She couldn't evade them for long though. Eventually, she would have to return to her residence.

Hyatt Valley Run Hotel

Nick phased out of the car to stand in the parking lot gazing at the several stories they would have to search. He glanced back at Kevin unconscious in the backseat. If the speedster had been conscience, he could have raced up the staircase and found the creature in no time, but now it was him and Fiona to search the maze like lab mice.

Back ups going to be too far out to do us any good.

Nick raised his arm and glanced at his watch.

5:50 AM

"The sun rises in ten minutes. Finding this thing as a human is going to be impossible," Nick said hopelessly.

Michael's Room.

The bat crawled down the side of the building and entered back through the open window. It crawled across the bed, tiny claws curling into the sheets as it paused at the edge of the bed to stare at the slumbering Van Buren. The bat's snout wrinkled and its fangs parted, the clear sickles filling with a red liquid. Michael stirred, his back to the creature as his eyes cracked open. His skin was crawling; at least that's what it felt like when there were several users in one area. Abruptly, he sat upwards in alert and jerked in the direction of the creature only to have it waste no time in tackling him. When had it arrived? How come he hadn't sensed it before? The bat's claws sank into his shoulders, talons into his thighs, and teeth into his forearm. When the creature's fangs sank into his arm, his veins flared a bright-red as the venom it had in its teeth began to seep into his system. With his free arm, Michael balled his fingers into a large fist and slugged the creature in the face. The bat shrieked as it flew across the room to hit the wall and Michael staggered to his feet, the room suddenly spinning. His vision was blurring and his ears were beginning to feel as though there were cotton stuffed in them.

What did it do to me? Michael thought fearfully. He gazed at the red holes in his arm and made a motion to flee for the door only to stagger in his disorientation. He fell against the wall and walked along it, scraping his shoulder against it for guidance as he struggled to reach the door.

The bat shook its head, its leaf-like ears flopping about before its pearl-white eyes locked onto Michael.

"Shit," Michael cursed as he pawed for the doorknob that his hand kept passing through like a mirage. The door was still a foot away, and his hallucinations were taking him further and further away from reality.

The bat lunged and Michael tensed as the creature tackled him to the floor. It continued to inject his body with its venom, its breasts shrinking and body slowly morphing back into that of a woman as the sun began to rise.


Nick had followed Fiona into the hotel when he paused upon feeling the virus signature fading. "Shit, we're too late."

Suddenly, the signature reemerged stronger than ever. He gazed up at the ceiling in wide-eyed shock, being able to feel exactly where the creature was. "Hey, didn't The Supervisor say we wouldn't be able to track it in the day?"


Michael was standing by the room door. His eyes were red with irritation, skin yellow in some places, and veins black in others. He looked diseased and no longer responsive to free thought. Emily had quickly gotten dressed back into the baggy clothes she had arrived in. She gazed at the agent and ordered, "Go."

Obediently, Michael opened the door and stepped outside to wander down the hall. He had become the signature the operatives were so interested in, and as he led them away from his room, Emily peeked outside before she slipped off in the opposite direction, heading straight for the stairs.


Nick had eventually broken away from Fiona to see if he could intercept the fleeing threat. He swam through the walls, passing swiftly through the building until he surfaced through the sixth floor. His surfaced up to his eyes, gazing down an empty hallway before he turned around to see a pair of legs idly strolling down the hall. He followed the tall legs up to the form of a familiar agent. Reaching out of the floor, he pulled himself out and rose to his feet behind him.

Now able to get a better look at the operative, his whole body tensed up upon seeing the red holes in his back and his left arm streaming and dripping with blood. Nick didn't know if he was gazing at Michael or a zombie, but the strong signature they had felt was now standing before him.

"Michael, what happened to you?" Nick asked in horror.

The agent stopped and turned a red eye over his shoulder to regard the white-haired operative. Emily stopped on the steps, as she saw through Michael's eyes the agent she had seen in the alley. He had followed her to the hotel!

Frightened, the girl ordered, "Kill him! Don't let them get me!"

Michael faced Nick with a look he had never wanted to ever be turned his way. It was okay when Michael gave Kevin that look, but Nick actually felt that he treated the operative too kindly to ever receive it. Feeling suddenly threatened, his Alpha was ringing every warning alarm in his body.

Nick stepped back in caution as he asked, "Michael; what's wrong? It's me, Nick!"

When he saw that large fist swing his way, he jerked backwards, feeling its breeze stroke his face. His Alpha hadn't told him to phase through it. It had been the first time in awhile, and it must have meant it wasn't safe to. Whirling around, Nick could only think of running. If he shot Michael, it would only make him hulk out, and then the public hotel would face ruin. If they fought in the hotel, then their agency could face exposure. Like the last mission, this was a huge mess.

Nick peered over his shoulder to see Michael closing the distance. The agent's ferocity startled him as he suddenly quickened his sprint to avoid him.

"Fuck!" Nick cursed.
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Old 12-11-2013, 07:06 AM   #24
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With each passing moment the tingling sensation lessened. It only made Fiona more determined to catch the bastard. With that determination came the undeniable sense of anger, an all too familiar feeling for her. There was always a underlying sense of choler simmering just underneath the surface, it didn't take much to set it simmering to the surface. Tonight had done just that, the near juvenile behavior of her fellow agents had left a bad taste in her mouth. Now two of them were piled into the back space of her car like sacks of potatoes. She had no way of knowing if they were going to be alright, that in itself made Fiona frustrated. There were many things she disliked, but not knowing the outcome of a situation was one of them. Perhaps she was a little spoiled, what with her subtle gift of being able to touch the minds of overs. It gave her a decided edge, but at the moment it did little for the situation. All she could do was lock it and load it and hope she caught the User before they managed to slip through their fingers.

Nick was out of the car without even opening the door. At the moment Fiona didn't stop to wonder about the power of Nick's, she was far too focused on the building in front of her. Cornflower blue eyes flashed brightly as Fiona flung open the driver's side door and swung her long legs out, boots connecting softly with the asphalt. She rose with a decided grace, a curving lock of metallic red falling out across her brow with the movement. Her right hand rose and swept it from her angular, ravishing visage and a black ball cap was placed upon her head keeping those fiery locks at bay. She gave her service pistol one last check before she slid it back into the holster at her hip, along side her extra clips and combat knife. The equipment was mundane compared to the arsenal of abilities at her disposal, but they gave her a reassuring feeling all the same.

Her attire was black and form fitting, holding tight to her natural curves yet didn't restrict movement. A black jacket hung loose about her shoulders, partially concealing her weapons. All in all she cut a rather stunning figure, one that exuded confidence and authority.

"The sun rises in ten minutes. Finding this thing as a human is going to be impossible," Nick said hopelessly.

“We've got to try,” Fiona said without room for complaint as she slammed the car door shut and strode towards the main entrance of the hotel. The doors flared open with her approach and those blue eyes flickered about the main entryway, taking everything in even as her senses reached out and sought out any activity. At this hour all she could feel was the confusion emanating from the clerk at the front desk. Fiona didn't bother with questioning the man, it was obvious a User in the form of a giant bat wouldn't stroll right in through the front door with a keycard in its claw.

Nick was nearby, their heels clicking against the smooth, polished and waxed floor as the made their way into the hotel. No doubt he felt it the signature dwindling as well, only to be replaced by a furthering sense of frustration. Fiona grit her teeth and started to expel a vehement curse, though it only came out as a strangled grunt as the signature seemed to explode back onto the scene. It was as stronger as ever, how in the hell?

"Hey, didn't The Supervisor say we wouldn't be able to track it in the day?"

“That's what he said,” Fiona agreed with a stout nod, her feet drawing her towards the stairs instinctively and she began to climb them hurriedly. “Obviously the intel was completely accurate. Move your ass, Spook!”

She snapped over her shoulder, her pace quickening with each step. Soon she was taking them by two, then three before she was running up them at full speed. Nick was gone, why would he run when he could just phase through the damn roof? She envied the man now, at least he wouldn't break a sweat.

“Report in,” Fiona muttered into her earpiece as she turned another corner, her breath came heavily and she felt the warmth rising in her sleek frame. It wasn't an uncomfortable sensation, Fiona had never been one to balk at a little heat.

So far the hotel had been eerily quiet, of course it was the morning, few people were up this early though no doubt the businessmen and woman would soon be crawling from their warm beds. They had to find the damn User before it ended up in morning rush hour!

As if on cue, Fiona ran almost head long into Emily. Blue meet green and Fiona halted in her tracks immediately, her frame going rigid and her hand falling back to her side. She felt no signature from the girl, to her own Alpha she was human. Yet there was something off about her, a palpable fright that Fiona's extrasensory sense cried out again.

“Whoa, hey. Calm down there. You alright?” Fiona asked, trying her best to sound like someone who could be concerned with a frightened girl. Her hair was a tangled mess, her clothing too big, the freckles gave her a cute look and those green eyes were big and bright. Fiona was torn, she should just shove the girl aside and keep climbing, but there was something completely off about this situation. Without actually trying to Fiona latched onto the girl's mind within the blink of an eye. Only a superior will could resist that fierce grip for long, it had taken a lot of training and a great sense of will from herself to keep the power in check. Nothing like hearing just what people were thinking, like it was spilling past their lips in causal conversation.
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Old 12-29-2013, 01:45 AM   #25
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Double doors hissed open, welcoming the supervisor into a spacious, dimly lit room illuminated by blue LED lamps overhead. Paintings of surreal artwork were posted on the walls, depicting strange shapes that Bill didn’t even want to try to identify. If he had tried, he might have considered a psychological examination with the ideas that entered his head. There were three, steel chairs twisted in another odd/surreal art style that resembled a tornado or screw. Bill walked between them to stand before a black desk where a man dressed in a finely-pressed suit was seated. His snow-grey eyes were engrossed in the holo-screen, hovering before him.

Bill stood there calmly, knowing that it wasn’t wise to rush The Director as much as he hated having his time wasted. He watched him tap away on the holo-screen with that airy-smile he always wore. He eventually took a seat in the screwball chair—as he started calling them. Kissy grew bored and started nuzzling its master's side, nipping his tie and tugging on it. Bill pressed his hand against the creature’s snout and pushed it away.

Still have that fairy dragon I see...what do you call it again? Missy?

Bill looked from Kissy to The Director. “Kissy.”

The Director chuckled. “What gave you the idea for such a name?”

“With all do respect, Sir. Why have you called me here?”

“Straight to the point I see. What are you looking for, Bill? You know you can always ask me if you require a certain special access.”

Bill peered down at his lap as he bit his tongue on the possible, antagonizing remark he wanted to make.

The Director tilted his head, gazing passed the holo-screen at his supervisor. “Let’s throw formalities aside, seeing as you’re the only mind in this entire organization that is unknown to me. Speak it to me.”

“I want to know what happened to the missing pages in Van Buren’s file.”

The Director’s eyes narrowed a little and he stroked his golden beard. After a momentary delay, he answered, “All right.”

Bill frowned, he hadn’t been expecting to get that answer.

The Director fiddled with the holo-screen, typed in a code, and a new holo-screen expanded overhead. On the screen was a mug shot of Van Buren and his biofile along with updated lab results. Bill examined the file closely, skimming over information he had read before. When he got to the lab results, his brows furrowed. Mutation...again? No; destruction. His Alpha cells were being destroyed by some new cell.

“What’s goin’ on? Why are his Alpha cells dyin’?” Bill asked.

“Interesting, isn’t it? I remember the day your men brought him here. It’s fresh in my mind as it was fresh in his own.”

Bill’s eyes lowered from the screen to settle on The Director as he listened closely.

“I blocked his memories,” the director explained as he rose from his chair and walked out from behind his desk. “I have seen the creature, the demon in his dreams; in fact we are both very familiar with it. Big, hairy, teeth as long as kitchen knives, and claws that could rip a vehicle in two and yet it is as elusive as a ghost.”

Bill swallowed the uneasy lump that had formed in his throat. “Big Foot...we found Van Buren torn to pieces. We collected him in a body bag and when the eraser crew was ready to burn the remains, he was whole as though nothin’ had ever happened to him.”

“Yes. He’s an abomination. I assigned him to shadow a veteran’s unit, hoping for a tradgic accident. He’s hard to kill, isn’t he?”

Bill couldn’t believe what he was hearing, but being a man practiced in wearing unreadable expressions, he wasn’t about to give his feelings away to a man who couldn’t read his mind. He was certain The Director was itching to figure him out—anything to make him feel like he could read him. Again, Bill remained silent.

“I noticed something interesting with the last mission. It was an experiment. Pastor Goodfellow, out of all the agents hidden amongst the masses, he became very suspicious. He knew Michael was there, and it wasn’t his Alpha virus that had gotten his attention. I thought it would have been but this recent mission confirmed it. The user went straight to him.”

“What are you talking about?”

The Director smiled as he leaned comfortably against his desk.

“I had you suspend Van Buren to put him out into the open. The user, the bat, was drawn to him like a bee to honey. There’s a new virus, spreading in Van Buren’s body. It infects Alpha virus and T viruses alike, and it will take over his body.”

There was so much Bill wanted to say; to accuse; but he suspected The Director knew exactly what he was doing. He had to shove his thoughts aside so that he could focus long enough to keep The Director talking about his intentions.

“Should we kill him?” He had to set his distance. If he showed concern, then The Director would suspect that he was worried about Van Buren.

The Director stroked his short, bristly beard and answered, “No; I have another idea. An opportunity may have just fallen into our hands. He may just be the bait we need to catch the big fish. Bring him back here and put him in holding until preparations can be made.”

“All right,” Bill said plainly and rose from his seat. As Bill turned to head for the door, The Director added:

“You tell no one about this.”

“No one but you will know.”

The Director watched the supervisor all the way to the door before he turned to resume sitting at his desk.


The Vampire

The red-head gasped as though she had seen a cockroach when she ran into Fiona. She staggered backwards until her back met the wall, her green eyes large, capturing the agent’s face like mirrors.

Whoa, hey. Calm down there. You alright?

The girl just stared, keeping to the wall and clinging to the sleeves that had been sagging passed her hands. When Fiona latched onto her mind, Emily winced, her eyes closing and brows furrowing as the invasion stung like a migraine.

“Stop!” she screamed. “St-stop! Stop! Stop!”

Her hands went to her head, squeezing it tight as she shook it crazily.

When the agent entered her mind, she would find a division in consciousness. Not only was she in the mind of Emily, but she was also in the mind of someone else that was sprinting after Nick with emotions of malice. However, the intrusion caused his pursuer to slow.

Nick glanced over his shoulder to see Michael slow down. A blank expression was suddenly on his face as though he were lost and confused. He had become a doll without command for the command line had been interrupted. Carefully, Nick approached the agent and waved a hand before his face.

“Michael?” he called.

The second host was identified.

Nick raised his finger to the communicator at his ear. “He stopped.”

He then realized that he hadn’t told Fiona who had been chasing him. “Uh, Michael that is. The signature is coming from Van Buren. Something has happened to him. He was trying to kill me a moment ago, but now he’s stopped. How’s everything on your end?”

Unable to take Fiona being in her mind, Emily unleashed a shrill scream that resonated throughout the stairwell. A massive bat appeared within Fiona’s mind, spreading its jaws before it lashed out at her to throw off her invasion. Not giving Fiona a chance to gather her focus, Emily bolted down the stairs.

She’s after me! Help me! Don’t let them get me! Emily sent out.

Michael frowned and looked toward the nearest stairwell. Turning from Nick, he started for the door.

Nick threw his hand out as though he possessed the power to stop the man. “Michael, wait!”

“He’s headed for the stairwell and I don’t know why,” Nick messaged Fiona.

Last edited by HotCider : 12-29-2013 at 02:35 AM.
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