Zeta team

[Harold Veldon]

Their commander’s stony expression was enough to deter the staff to steer well clear and get on with their duties someplace else. Only people that had to be in the command centre remained; namely his small retuine of a supposedly world class scientist, a dependable military advisor and a medical man; the good doctor. All were supposed to feed him invaluable information to help him wage his campaign, but all remained silent, when Mr Veldon had such an overcast expression you didn’t disturb him.

Standing stock still at the main table where perfectly fashioned figures upon the battleground showed the spread of their real forces. The digitally displayed image showed the up to date high resolution satellite image of a district of Manchester. Palms spread upon the edge of the table that showed his battlefield Veldon silently mused over possible strategies he could employ for his troops. Tapping the image it zoomed out showing a broader area; with tiny blips showing the actual people walking the streets, or rather running as they didn’t dare stay above ground unsheltered for long, for this state of the art satellite had been placed directly above Manchester in space and continually relayed it’s information down; the best an inexhaustible supply of money could buy. Moving the image with a simple swipe of his hand, a finger dragging the image, in effect a map, along to the outskirts the image zoomed again and Veldon checked upon the ten man squad he had in place, ready to move into the city to begin the critical scouting operation. “Tell them to move out,” everyone had been waiting for just that order, the operational staff sat at advanced computers and intercom systems about the room, went into action, a sergeant speaking crisply into her mike, “Zeta team move on out to sector 713, approach with caution, your primary objective is reconnaissance, maintain radio contact at all times.”
“Understood,” came the crisp reply from the hardened veteran leading the squad. Veldon’s expressionless features followed the squad’s progress as they set out, moving cautiously but swiftly towards their destination; the abandoned research facility.

Veldon’s hand expertly swept about the board dabbling about simple touches magnifying the image, allowing him to see with perfect clarity, even the sweat on the men’s brows as they jogged along looking all about for any sign of the enemy. They saw nothing, which didn’t necessarily mean there was nothing out there. With all possible haste they arrived at the research facility pushing their way through the broken gates and jogging towards the main lab which housed their objective, fanning out the squad had their weapons primed and safeties off, their senses alert as they crept towards the entrance, the captain signalled for two men to throw open the large steel doors and the squad moved on in, guns sweeping the room as they entered.

Those in the command centre could only wait now as the satellite image hovered over the research facility now unable to see the troops. Veldon’s eyes never left the display, but his expression remained carefully guarded and closed, as he listened to the report of the captain on speakers,
“We’re in complete darkness, be ready for an attack,” whispered the Captain, to his men rather than the command centre itself, “switch to infra red,” the dull wine of the visors over their eyes switching to infra red could be heard as the heavily armed and armoured men swept about the room, their assault rifles moving all about searching for any trace of an enemy.
“Someone’s been here, check sensors McDonald,” a whispered conversation was inaudible over the speakers due to crackling interference,
“both vampires and lycans have been here recently.” Veldon nodded, it was all he required, the Sergeant at her desk replied to the ground team “that’s it, job well done fall back pronto.”
“Will do” replied the relieved voice of the captain, a scream sounded over the speakers, terrible to hear even back in the command centre,
“man down, grab him and get the hell out,” came the roaring order as the gunfire bursts could be heard followed by further cries of pain.
“What’s your situation Captain?” Demanded the sergeant.
“It’s a blur, probable vampire,” came the still crisp and calm reply, over the roar of the assault rifles. Veldon’s eyes along with everyone elses had never left the display, but he was the only one to show not even a flicker of emotion as the battered team emerged falling back hurriedly, firing at the entrance as they went, it was the brightness of midday outside though so they wouldn’t be followed.
“Report,” commanded Veldon solemnly.
“What’s your situation? Casualties?”
“Five men definitely down, one missing presumed dead too.” The reply was near emotionless, the captain was war hardened; used to death, but he wasn’t quite so used to the brutality of it, as he visibly wiped blood that had spattered from his dying comrade, a man under his command.
“Permission to take in a reinforced squad to take down the creature sir?” The Sergeant looked over towards Veldon who simply shook his head.
“Request denied…get back to base immediately for the debrief.” The man knew better than to question orders and simply signalled for his men to follow, as the shaken squad trooped off, heading back to their own lines, they were a crack squad, some of the best but over half of their number had been swiftly dispatched in the chaos though the Captain was certain he’d hit the Vampire with a deadly strafe at one point. Apparently it hadn’t been enough to fell the vicious creature, perhaps he’d have better luck next time; he only hoped he had the opportunity for revenge…

In the command centre Veldon tapped the image, letting it fade out, much to the annoyance of the military advisor who abruptly muttered, “are we to send in troops under the cover of darkness?”
“Why didn’t I think of that before?” Exclaimed Veldon in mock wonderment, “quite an exceptional idea.” Suddenly his fake attitude swung back to the norm, “we’re fighting vampires,” he spat power surging from him sending the jovial man crashing through the door of the command centre into the wall with a dull thud and a crunch of bones, “send me someone with sane, credible ideas, and clear that mess up.” He ordered crisply shaking his head and wondering why he was surrounded by such imbeciles.
“Send in Beta team for surveillance, bring them in before darkness falls.”

[Ranvier Flynn]

The old abandoned lab, it was a place of vast amounts of interest for each clan at the moment. Ranvier did not know all of the details, as to what they were after. But Alexandria had asked him to keep an eye on it, when he could because she expected that others would be searching the premises. Not one to refuse a direct request from Alex, he jumped at the chance, it could mean battles, and Ranvier greatly enjoyed his fights. Though he was a relatively peaceful soul, as were all of his clan, apart from the occasional other enthusiastic youngling. Who got their selves killed within years, which of course for a Vampire is a very short space of time.

Ranvier had spent the past two days in the lab; so far there had been no disturbances, which he assumed was likely to happen, unsure as to whether Demetrius would make another appearance so soon. This was also an assignment more likely to be given to Ranvier for two reasons, one he was slightly more patient than Silas was. Especially when he could be teaching the younglings. And also Silas had only just returned from a long over seas mission, which had not exactly gone to plan. Since then Silas had been a little short with Ranvier, which was slightly lost on him as to the reason why, but no doubt it would unfold upon his return to the mansion.

For staying in the Laboratory for a relatively long period of time, Ranvier had had to make a few trips from within its confines. Mainly for blood, luckily there were only a few houses around the area, so he was unlikely to draw attention to himself, and the humans he did pick out would just have a red mark in the morning, and assume they had done something in their sleep. Unlike Lycans they did not tend to kill humans. They had no reason too; they did not pose a direct threat to them, even those with weapons were easily beaten and have so little speed that it was more of a game than anything. But recently human soldiers had been paying both the Vampire and Lycan clan a little more notice. They had been sending out mass squads to tackle them at a time. But to no real avail. They were at a great loss as to why they were fighting, sure Lycans may have killed some of their families, but then again they would generally seek out the Vampire clan to take out some much needed revenge.

Ranvier had to find the odd way to amuse himself whilst he was in the Laboratory, for a short while it had been ‘guess the smell’ but the amusement quickly wore off, as he had no opponent and also having a highly magnified sense of smell, it only took a matter of minutes to distinguish each chemical in the room. Then a slightly more amusing game came to his mind, collecting a few of the least cracked conical flasks, he lined them up on a work surface, and jumped up into the rafters. This idea worked on his aim and accuracy mainly, he picked off little pieces of nail and sometimes wood from the rafters upon which he was sat, and attempted to get them into the flasks. Though it was slightly more difficult than one would think as he was twenty feet away.

Ranvier sat upon the rafters swinging his legs; this was becoming a nice little holiday for him, barely a mission at all. He was beginning to think that he should soon head back to the mansion, where he may be of some more use. In the past few days not so much as a mouse had disturbed him, he had not slept, though he need not do so. He was always highly alert, and could go for weeks without sleep. Being constantly on guard and on the move in his younger years, before they came across the mansion, was the major reason for this. And then the kafuffle broke out.

A little less than a mile away yet, but Ranvier could still hear them, heavy-laden lorries, making their way to the abandon research facility. What were they expecting to find here, they would definitely not find remotely enough things of interest to fill their lorries. Ranvier knew for a fact there was very little of importance, except himself of course, left inside its confines at the moment. Anything important had been scavenged a short while back. But then the sound of guns being loaded reached his ears. Why did people enjoy using guns, sure a lot of vampires tended to use them, but it took all the fun from the battle, you can’t get anything better than a close combat fight to the death. Have a little death daring excitement for a bit, but alas, they never chose to do so.

Jumping off the rafters towards the only entrance, he crouched on the floor. Listening for a moment. Humans were offloading from the lorries. The trademark heavy-footed treading of boots, reloading of weapons and their erratic breathing sounded the air, they were hardly swift. Even Lycans could move both more agile and silently than this.
Getting to his feet he swiftly moved over to the light switch, plunging the room into complete darkness. The soldiers were unlikely to find the said light switch, because it was hidden around the corner from the door, and everyone knows, how blind humans are when it comes to something directly infront of them. Ranvier could hear the crackling of radios, they were not here to fight, but they were definitely taking every precaution, they must have been plotting this for a short while. Retreating to his rafters, in the centre of the room, Ranvier waited for them to make the first move, and for the battle to commence.

The sound of the rusty old gate at the front of the building being kicked open reached his ears, as well as shouting, and the supposedly quick and swift movement of the soldiers coming gradually closer. The large doors opened, a little bit of light entered the room, but it was nowhere near enough for them to see any of the room’s contents. Spreading out, they looked as if they had been training for this for a long time, but there were so many holes in their defences. Sure they had guns, and they appeared to like to think there were checking every possible angle, but come on. The second man who entered the room broke away from the pack slightly walking directly underneath him.
Swiftly and silently, Ranvier gripped the rafter with his lower legs, and swung around so he was hanging upside down. Ranvier grabbed the man round the head, covering his mouth with one of his hands, and placing the other on the side of the man’s head he twisted it sharply to the right. He felt the man fall limp, and quickly pulled himself and the dead human back up onto the rafters. Moving quickly to the opposite rafter, he slung the man limply over it. He was well balanced and unlikely to fall from the rafters and alert his fellow men.

Jumping back to his original rafter crouching as he went he waited for the next wanderer, seconds later another broke ranks. Who trained these men, even the Vampire younglings, could organise people better than this. Though Ranvier was not going to complain it made it another easy man to take down. Though where was the fight in this? Hanging from his lower legs again, he withdrew his short sword silently, covering the second man's mouth with a hand again, and he brought his sword around, but apparently not before the man could emit a strangled scream. Seconds later it stopped however as the sword slit his trachea. The scream dying upon his lips, but it was enough, Ranvier watched as all the other soldiers in the room turned in his direction, and took aim. Thinking quickly, he swung forwards releasing their comrade as he reached the top of his swing. The man flew into the ranks, startling them, and causing misfires, shots at the roof instead, plasterboard fell from the ceiling, and the men were showered in dust. Though Ranvier highly doubted it would actually give way. All the men were alert now, trying to blink away the dust, which had filled their eyes. Ranvier however had followed through in his swing, flying silently through the air over their heads, and landing behind them. Each still distracted by their falling comrade. They locked into a tighter position, each protecting each other, but each making one vital error; they were all looking the wrong way.

Withdrawing his long sword now, he silently stood up to his full height. “Goodnight boys!” Ranvier chuckled dryly, and with a quick jab, stuck his sword through the upper middle back of his closest opponent. Retrieving it from the mans body as quickly as he delivered the blow, the man fell to the floor screaming. However the soldier closest to him was thinking on his feet, the others all fired gunshots, in different directions, which Ranvier easily avoided. But this man withdrew a small dagger, and stuck it deep into Ranvier’s right thigh.

Clenching his teeth in pain, Ranvier dived behind the bench closest to him, hissing at his assailant as he went. The sound of feet, as the men ran to the end of the bench, firing more shells in his direction, he was quicker than them though and he had already leapt into the next row of rafters above them. And seen as it was dark, and the fact that Ranvier was seriously fast compared to themselves and also wore black leather they missed the move completely. He watched from above as they swiftly swept forwards, and the shock entering their faces, as they noticed he was no longer there. Panic suddenly set in, some senior decision apparently, and the men quickly withdrew. Only three of the men were dead so far. This was not good enough, watching the men flee for their lives; Ranvier withdrew four Shurikens from the lining running down the side of his trouser legs, taking aim and releasing them upon the fleeing mass. Screams sounded, reverberating off the walls. A sly smile gracing his lips, but he had not managed anything just yet. Lurching down off the rafters, he passed two more men, dead. One shuriken stuck in the head of one soldier, another stuck in the other mans back, both cutting major arteries, they were instantly dead, then he came across another man hobbling toward the door, he had been shot in the leg with a shuriken. He had lost his gun somewhere along the way in the midst of all the panic.

The man’s arms were outstretched, reaching for the man, the captain, stood in the doorway. A slight look of remorse on his face as he turned and fled from the battle, along with the other survivors.
Ranvier caught up with the limping man easily, toying with him slightly, placing a hand on the man's shoulder and saying quietly. “Never mind man, they’ll get whats coming to them eventually.” He said with a slight wicked smile. And withdrawing some thing from his pocket, he placed it over the mans mouth and nose, and watched as his eyes closed slowly, and he fell into a sudden deep sleep, shock and fear still dancing upon his features.

Ranvier dragged the limp man over to one of the desks, removing the shuriken from the back of his lower leg. This man would be of use perhaps, though he had to get him back to the mansion first. But Ranvier could not help but feel that he would be here a short while longer yet. Now they knew he was present, they would soon send reinforcements. Opening one of the empty cupboards underneath the workbench, he put the crumpled man inside it. He would be fine, it was a only minor cut to his leg, and due to the chloroform he would be out for a few hours yet. Then closing the cupboard doors, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Remembering the faces of the soldiers he had just killed.

Opening his eyes after a short space of time, he then looked down, inspecting himself for any damage. During a battle, unless it was serious, you tended not to feel any pain due to the huge amounts of adrenaline being pumped throughout the body. It was then when Ranvier, then remembered that the captain had stuck a dagger into his upper leg, it was in fairly deep, not much more than the hilt was showing. Gritting his teeth again, he sharply tugged on the dagger; blood spurted out of the wound. Though it was not hellishly bad, it would heal itself in a few minutes. However in the mean time, he would have to find something to stem the flow.

Opening up the cupboard holding the only remaining living soldier in the room, he ripped away a little of the man’s sleeve. “Don’t worry you can have it back when i’m done with it.” Ranvier smiled. People were always unsure whether people could hear you in this state. Just like in commas, but Ranvier preferred to talk to them anyway, just for social reasons. But then again he had been cooped up here for the past two days. Taking the piece of fabric, he tied it tightly around the open wound, the green fabric stood out a little from his black leather. Hoping it will have stopped bleeding by the time the reinforcements came, or he would be slightly more visible, which was never a good thing.

Ranvier moved around, collecting his shurikens, one of which had embedded itself deeply into the wall. And collected the bodies, he lined them up along the back wall neatly. Closing their lids, and cleaning them up a little. Vampires of all creatures, knew that the dead should be respected, their families deserved to be able to bury them properly. Their fellow soldiers would be able to find and collect them later. And with this Ranvier retreated back to his rafters, taking with him the Captains dagger.

((I hope that was ok... 2402 words eep!))

[Harold Veldon]

"Beta Team...come in Beta Team, we've a mission for you, " the gravely tones of a Sergeant crackled over the comm link, they all sounded the same to Captain O'Neill so he replied gruffly,
"go ahead Sergeant," gesturing for the restless members of this squad to quieten down so he could hear their orders as they looked up from various places about the clean kept barrack dormitory they slept in. The men shared looks of anxiety and excitement as O'Neill listened attentively gesturing crudely with two fingers for Graham to shut his trap as he began nodding his head, grinning and saying, "bout fuckin' time we 'ad some action around 'ere." A sharpened pencil hit him expertly in the face as O'Neill pulled out another from his belt and jotted down notes, turning away so he could focus upon the clear cut instructions reeled off to him.
"Your Team is to move out post haste for grid reference point 187236; the Abandoned Research Facility, Zeta Team were driven back, you are to slip into the Facility and acquire a piece of...technology marked X23, use deadly force to eliminate any advesaries you come across, you have special weapons clearance, good luck Captain...you're going to need it." The last part was uttered in a low murmur which unnerved the captain somewhat, he wasn't used to being wished luck by anyone from the High Command centre, it really meant that they needed it. Seeing everyone staring at him, Carlson propped up on his bed tongue hanging out laughing silently, Evans stone faced as ever, Williams, Smith, Oakley and Jansen the younger recruits looking thrilled, but with a touch of anxiety clear to his experienced eye, and lastly the twin marksmen the Padmores; "Blondie" and "Spike". All their eyes were rivetted upon him, and as ever he felt a weight of responsibility, he began with a smile,

"Sounds like we're picking up the pieces of a routine surveillance mission gone wrong lads. We're to grab the gear and get out sharpish, no heroics unfortunately." Audible groans greeted this, "Zeta Team mucked this up, we're gonna do better right lads?" No words could be distinguished from the roar of agreement, as the soldiers lept up rapidly strapping on their army chattering non-stop, everyone was jittery and excited before the op, O'Neill knew what it was like, the same butterflies still flew around his stomach.

So it was that they were now being driven across town in a simple military van, they hadn't want to draw attention, but the big guns they sported kind of managed that for them; they'd picked up specialist equipment enroute, the Padmores sticking to their sniper rifles, whilst the others took an asortment of flamethrowers, grenade launchers and the latest hi-tech rifles and machine guns, their faces had lit up like children at christmas as they'd selected their weaponry; spoilt for choice at the amply supplied and regularly rearmoured armoury. They had the best weapons available, the best armour and the best training the government could provide, yet O'Neill had a sinking feeling in his stomach that they still weren't prepared for what lay ahead of them.

The truck ground to a halt right before the wrought iron gates and the squad swiflty disembarked; stealth wasn't their thoughts, they'd go in all guns blazing, fanning out they filtered through the gates moving quickly over the open ground leading to the main entrance of the facility. Hearing the truck pull off, O'Neill readied his weapon gesturing with deft hand movements for Williams and Oakley to get the doors, yanking them open the squad all had their guns trained on the entrance as they trooped in, each man moved cautiously moving his weapon about covering what they hoped was every angle, from reception they steered clear of the main lab, where, the Sergeant had informed O'Neill enroute, Zeta Team had met their nemesis. O'Neill didn't plan on making the same mistake so led his men along, long deserted corridors towards the Genetics Research Lab where he was reliably informed X23 would be, hearing no sounds save for their own heavy breathing, the rustling of their armour and the 'clack' as Smith checked his ammo, they filed into the lab, spreading out to quicken their search, "Evans, Oakley guard our exit, the rest of you find this X23 stuff," O'Neill had done his best to try finding out more information about the product, but the Sergeant had been tight lipped repeating in a dull drone; "that's classified information Captain, that I am not at liberty to divulge to you" after the third attempt at reasoning with him O'Neill had given up, so he was unable to give his men any leads; meaning nobody had any idea what they were searching for.
"Let's make this quick ye buggers, I've got a packet o' crisps to finish orf," muttered 'Grouchy' Graham.
"Less of that trap yapping and we might just find the bleeding thing quicker," countered Blondie to mutters of agreement all around from his fellows; the team were rifling through everything, upturning dried papers, various equipment and utensils, O'Neill had the feeling that this place had been abandoned in a hurry, especially on seeing the mouldy hamburger Carlson was poking with the nozzle of his gun.

"Eureka," cried Jansen, holding up a clenched fist that presumably held what they were searching for, murmurs of satisfaction went around the group as O'Neill smiled for the first time, "let's clear on out then men," nodding he held the rear as the team began to troop out, moving cautiously still, but with a lighter, springier step as their mission was over...and more importantly; successful.