Incident Report
Summary:
On the 2/5/2019, Mobile Task Force Omicron-1 ("Crash Test Dummies") was deployed to the town of Sutherland, West Virginia to impede the rituals of a known demonic cult by the name of "His Majesty Eternal." During this time…
Site Director and Acting Dispatch Commander Robert Holland sent the invoice down, let out a sigh of disappointment, and pushed the intercom button on his desk.
"Okay, Margaret. Please send them in."
A few moments later, the door opened and a flustered Margaret Bonview ushered in the four members of MTF Omicron-1. Through the doorway, Holland saw a coffee mug sticking out of the drywall of the waiting room. He took a deep breath and looked at the agents.
"Look, guys. What happened out there? What were you thinking?"
Brandon Jacobs spoke first. "Well. So this big fiery guy appeared after we shot the robed guys."
"Yeah! He was like, super scary." Phillip Eric chimed in.
Jacobs sent a glare in Eric's direction. "Anyways, he said something about a deal, and somebody said something about immortality. Next thing we know, we're all covered in purple fire."
"So now, you're…" Holland glanced at the report. "Indestructible?"
"As far as I reckon, yep." said Jessica Mills, playing with a stapler.
Holland reached across the desk and took the stapler back. "And you got the guys downstairs to confirm this?"
"Yep! They shot Eric. A lot." replied Veronica Dane.
"Tried to 'splode me too."
Holland put his hand on his cheek. He could feel a headache coming on.
"So my best team is immortal, but now you're-"
Eric raised his hand. "I crashed our helicopter on the way home! We had to take an Uber back!"
"Incompetent…"
Like a blanket of gray clouds that had been hanging overhead for hours, Holland's headache broke. This was gonna be a mountain of paperwork.
"Alright, go back to your dorms. And please, don't touch anything."
The MTF filed out and Holland put his head on the desk. Nothing about this job was enjoyable.
A quarter-mile away, a man watched the Site from a tree blind. Lowering his binoculars, he watched the armored convoy trundle down the dirt path away from the gates. A crooked smile broke across his face. Site-271 was a small outpost in Appalachia and since the only other MTF had just died in a helicopter crash, the skeleton crew of guards would be a breeze to knock over. He checked his watch. In an hour, his team would be here and they'd all be one step closer to a luxurious retirement.
But for now, he was content to wait.
Brandon Jacobs walked down a well-lit hallway, desperately trying to find his way back to the North Dorms. Jessica Mills was following close behind him, as lost as he was. He turned back to her.
"Do you think we should have gone left at the last fork?"
"I ain't see a fork."
Giggling, Veronica Dane led Phillip Eric towards the motor pool. Now that the convoy was gone, they could kiss in the back of a Humvee like they used to back in high school. Well, not a Humvee. Dane corrected herself.
Eric let go of her hand and opened the door with a bow.
"After you, my dear."
Dane gave him a curtsy and entered the nearly empty garage.
It was time, thought the man in the blind. He pressed a button on his watch and twelve men emerged from the dense foliage and began to move towards the gate. He flashed his crooked smile again. His man on the inside should be opening the door any second now.
There. A man in a white lab coat opened the door as his mercenaries reached the entrance to the compound. As the last one passed through the doorway, the man in the blind raised his rifle to his shoulder and pulled the trigger. Blood blossomed crimson against starched white.
Surely, one could not suffer a traitor to live?
After almost an hour of searching, Brandon Jacobs and Jessica Mills finally found the North dorms. Jacobs let out a whoop and flopped down on the couch. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mills adjusting her belt.
"You okay?"
"Yeah, just not feeling too comfortable."
"Then go change, Mills. You heard Holland, we've got like the whole week off."
The mercenaries cut a bloody path through the facility, gunning down any personnel they came across. It wasn't malicious, just complete indifference. If any of them pulled the alarm, it was game over. The leader pulled down his balaclava.
"You six. Hit the North Dorms. Everyone else, take South. When you're done, start working your way down."
There was no argument. Just simple compliance.
Brandon Jacobs had been waiting for Jessica Mills to return for ten minutes. During that time, he'd rescued the television remote from between the couch cushions, gotten a bowl of popcorn, lost the remote, and rediscovered it in the bottom of the popcorn bowl.
The door to Mills' room opened as he sat back down on the couch and she walked out in full combat gear. Jacobs sat, mouth ajar and full of popcorn. Swallowing, he squinted at her.
"Didn't you say you wanted to change into something more comfortable?"
Mills thumbed the straps of her Kevlar vest. "I feel most comfortable when I'm safe from small arms fire, ya know?"
"Jess. They shot Eric with a tank. I think we're fine."
"Bah. Too late now." Mills walked over to the kitchen and started rummaging through the cupboards.
As Jacobs turned on the TV, the door was thrown open and six masked men stormed inside. Jacobs stood and turned to face them, his hands held up and empty. It didn't stop them from shooting him a dozen times.
"What the fuck…" whispered one of the mercenaries, staring in disbelief.
"Ouch. Did you need to shoot me?" Jacobs asked as he looked at the holes in his shirt.
"Are you one of those anomal-"
The mercenary was cut off by a loud bang. Mills poked her head out from behind the kitchen counter, rubbing the spot on her forehead where she'd smacked it off the cabinet. She held out a tiny metal object and looked at the mercenaries.
"Have any of you fellas seen a little metal baseball? Was tryin' to get er back on my belt, but I think I broke it."
Before anyone could speak, a hand grenade rolled out from underneath the couch that Jacobs had been sitting on.
"Oh hey! There it-"
The room went white, then black, then gray. Ears ringing, Jacobs picked himself up off the floor and looked at the masked men. Well, what was left of them.
"Hey Mills. I think we're under attack."
"What! I can't hear you! That grenade was really loud!"
"Do you think we're allowed in here, Eric?"
"If we weren't, they would have left a Humvee. Now…"
"Hey! Watch those hands, mister."
Jessica Mills had been on more than her share of rescue missions, so she could tell this one was not going well. As four gunmen marched her, Brandon Jacobs, Robert Holland, and Margaret Bonview down the hallway, she tried to piece together where she'd messed up.
First, they'd run to Holland's office. But they hadn't grabbed any weapons, which was bad. And when they got there, the gunmen were already leading him out of the room. Also bad. After not being able to kill them(good), they were forced to follow Holland and they got told "not to try anything" or they'd kill Margaret. Mills wasn't sure if this was good or bad.
"Hey Jacobs, is the "not killing Margaret thing" good or bad?"
"Shut the fuck up." Yelled a mercenary.
Mills decided to stop thinking out loud.
After a few minutes, they came across two more gunmen carrying a large case. One of the men said something in a foreign language and the man behind Mills jabbed her with his rifle.
"Motor pool. Take us now."
"Ah, Eric! Something's poking into my back!"
"Sorry V!"
"Wait, are we moving?"
This day has gone from bad to terrible. thought Robert Holland. As he was forced to stand against the back wall of the empty garage, he tried to keep his calm. He wasn't worried so much about these mysterious gunmen, as much as how his head was pounding. The six men stood around the crate, too far away for him to make a move without getting turned into Swiss cheese. One of them stepped closer to them.
The leader, Holland assumed, pulled down his balaclava, "You, you, and you," He said pointing at the MTF members and Holland. "are coming with us."
"Where are we going?' Holland asked.
"None of your fucking business." the man said as he turned away.
At that moment, the quiet was shattered as a tank burst through the wall to Holland's left. Spraying cinderblocks and concrete, it drove into the surprised mercenaries. The ones who weren't killed by the debris were ground underneath its treads as it crashed into the other wall.
The leader let out a choked cry as Holland jumped at him, wrapping his arms around the man's neck. With a twist and a crack, the struggling stopped and he went limp. Holland leaned back against the wall, unable to stop his shaking hands.
The tank, having collided with the far wall and lost a tread, let out a thunderous bang as the engine began to belch black smoke. Slowly, the barrel of the cannon turned to face the surviving Foundation Staff. Margaret ran her hand through her frazzled hair.
"Ah Christ, what fresh shit have we gotten ourselves inta now?" She moaned.
The man with the crooked smile cursed. Something had gone wrong. And he wasn't about to get stuck in the aftermath, he thought as he mounted a motorbike. There'll be another time. He thought to himself.
The hatch of the tank popped open and a very naked Veronica Dane emerged.
"Oh hello, Mr Holland! Hey, Marge." She hastily covered herself with her hands. "I was just, uh, changing and um… I bumped something maybe…"
Phillip Eric stuck his head out the hatch.
"Guess what Jacobs! I had sex in a tank! Isn't that so cool?"
Robert Holland slumped against the wall until he sat on the ground, head in his hands, where he began to cry. This was going to be an unfathomable amount of paperwork.
simartar, rtme, calibri
