There was no more padded white room. No more place to hide. Not even a straitjacket was there to provide a false sense of warmth. Now, it was just Andrew and the dark abyss around him. He wasn’t alone.
You resist my power… you think I will destroy you…
Its ring wasn’t even close to that of a serpent, but that of Satan itself. No evil Andrew had encountered even came close to that horrid presence he felt right there. It was as if breathing near it was enough to corrupt his soul.
Yet you remain curious… you want to know where it all leads…
Logic wasn’t logical. Rationalism wasn’t rational. Thoughts weren’t thinking. Nothing made sense in a place like this, where nothing existed. A pure void that housed a pure evil.
You want to save them… you won’t… and it will be your fault…
***
Andrew woke in the backseat of the CDR truck. No sweat. No jump. He sat up, found that most of the team was also asleep, and used the brief moment to check on his gear again.
Weapon: loaded.
Gear: prepped.
APE: fully charged.
Everything seemed perfectly ready for the perfect raid. The strangest part was that this was the most nervous he had ever felt in the CDRs. Even his first mission didn’t compare when it came to the level of anxiety. Perhaps it was the fact that they had a week to ruminate in fear, or perhaps because they actually knew what they were getting into in this case.
“Through undercover agents who have infiltrated the Pentagramists, we’ve found that it’s composed of three levels,” Lieutenant Bates had described. “Each level is large, meaning all four of the CDR teams will have to work together. CDR-1 will go north, CDR-2 east, CDR-3 south, and CDR-4 west. It’s hard fighting in all directions, so be sure to be careful.”
But that wasn’t the worst part. “Unfortunately,” the Lieutenant continued, “Captain Jacobs has convinced the Chief that there won’t be any need to send police in, and that they would be better suited to watching all entrances and exits of the superstructure. No support. Not even from drones.”
Sitting in the rear of the truck, Andrew didn’t know if he was supposed to feel anger or fear. Frankly, he didn’t feel anything. He had been trained to dissociate a little; to see his stress as if he weren’t really a part of it. It wouldn’t be long until this would all be over.
The truck eventually pulled over to the police line, where all the CDR trucks lined up with their mascots on the sides.
CDR-1—the hounds—had a barking dog, somewhat reminiscent of Clifford the Big Red Dog.
CDR-2—the dragons—had a flying beast breathing fire, like something from The Hobbit.
CDR-3—the Spartans—had a half-naked warrior kicking someone into a hole.
And, of course, CDR-4—the demonbusters—had that knock-off Ghostbusters symbol.
Everyone got into their APEs and had a brief get-together with the rest of the CDRs. While the team leaders met up, random pals could reconvene with other random pals. Andrew, not having anyone from the other teams, just stuck with the rest of CDR-4.
“Oh shit, it’s Park,” Singh pointed.
Andrew looked to find a girl measuring around 5’ 4” or so. She didn’t look too big, but she seemed to make up for it with her pretty but mean face. It was the kind that was willing to call you weak, because it was the truth. “Yeah, oh shit is right,” Park scoffed.
“Fuck, she heard me.”
Park marched her way over to CDR-4, specifically standing herself in front of Smith. Andrew watched with full anticipation as the two stood only a couple inches apart. This was the girl who had stuffed rotten fish, and god-knows-what-else, into Smith’s bed countless times for a breakup.
She just had one thing to say. “I heard about what happened with you and your girlfriend,” Park sternly said. “I’m sorry it happened. Nobody deserves to get cheated on.”
It was a strangely mature statement from someone infamously immature. Even Smith was taken aback. “Mary…”
But she was already walking back to her unit as the rest of the team leaders returned as well. “Alright, we got confirmation,” Sergeant Yang quickly relayed. “Everyone! Put on your APE suits!”
As usual, Smith cursed under his breath, Kang muttered a prayer, and Gutierrez chose to say another stupid joke. “Singh, if you decided to put deodorant on as much as you put dip in, then maybe Indians wouldn’t have as much as a bad rep.”
She chuckled before she slipped some dip into her mouth. “Oh don’t worry, I made sure to get the fresh musk of shit-ass and monkey-sweat before I came out this morning. Just to make sure your stereotypes are defeated, of course.”
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***
The CDRs went in as one with their infrareds on. Everything was cold, except for their warm bodies and the traces of warm air. Comms were quiet; the only sound Andrew could hear was the slight whirr of his own APE. Nothing seemed real, yet everything seemed real.
“Place is a real tomb…” Smith finally muttered.
“It is,” Kang replied. “Back in World War II, this island was used by the Japanese army as a bunker. I suppose this is one of their unfound fortresses. Of course, before New Changan, its industrialization, and its somewhat recent relevance in the modern world.”
“See? That’s your problem,” Gutierrez quietly chuckled. “You use too many big words.” Checking the flank, as per protocol, he kept moving along. “If you know so much, then you’d know this shit is way too big for some ordinary bunker. Think it could’ve had some secrets in it?”
“Lock it up,” the Sergeant snapped. “Unless it’s mission-critical, don’t talk.”
They made it to the point where all the CDRs had split up. As per the plan, each went in their own cardinal direction, just as the bunker split up into four different hallways. Now, Andrew hadn’t been in the CDRs for too long, but he knew that splitting up was what killed the characters in a horror movie.
After they officially made their split, the Sergeant made a quick gearcheck. “Everyone tell me what they’re bringing and its status. Singh, you start, and the rest of you will tell me by order of formation.”
“This is Singh. I got the thermite thrower.”
“This is Smith. I have the railgun.”
“Gutierrez. I have the strobe.”
“Kang. I have the AGT.”
“Cheng. I have the wiregun.” Andrew, at the front, had the weapon at his hip. Thanks to the last couple duty weeks, they were able to test which person was best with which weapon. He passed the test when it came to this.
With the Sergeant right next to him, they moved deeper into the tunnel without so much as a mouse in their way. It seemed unnerving that their well-prepared raid seemed to have nothing at all. “Shit’s too quiet…” Smith muttered.
“Wait,” Singh whispered. “Stop for a second. Do you hear that sound?”
They froze. They listened. A light whirring sound was coming from Smith’s direction. “No, wait, it’s coming from Smith’s APE!” Gutierrez yelled. “Dios fucking mio, it’s your battery! The goddamned thing is gonna explode!”
“Shit!”
The rest of the team kept a tighter formation as Gutierrez helped pull the heated battery from his suit. “Pull the lever!” Gutierrez yelled. “Only you can let me get it from the outside!”
“I know, I know!”
Andrew held his sector as the commotion continued. It was one thing to walk into a dark bunker without information, and it was a worse thing to be a sitting duck. After a couple seconds of collective struggle, he heard Gutierrez pull out the burning-hot battery and chuck it into the distance.
The explosion was akin to a small pipebomb. It was enough for Andrew to feel a fraction of the shockwave, even from a few dozen meters away. If the demons were asleep, they were surely awake now.
“Damn it, you fucking pendejo! You’ve been overcharging the battery, haven’t you? I fucking told you that something like this was bound to happen!”
Smith was still panting with reeling adrenaline as he tried taking deep breaths. “But it’s never happened like that before… and… and I could swear there was something up when I packed it…”
“Well, like it or not, you’re gonna be on low-power mode for the rest of the mission,” Gutierrez angrily mumbled. “Este cabrón blanco, I hope you’re fucking happy now! This shit isn’t a joke you–”
Something at high-speed blasted right through Smith’s chest. It sounded like a railgun, but the only one they could see was the uncocked one on Smith’s back. That meant one thing.
The Pentagramists had railguns of their own. The Sergeant acted faster than anyone else could. “Take cover!”
They got behind a wall of concrete just as another high-speed projectile blasted by their ears. Gutierrez barely managed to pull Smith’s weak body out of the way and into cover. “Shit! Hold in there!” he yelled.
“The fire must’ve come from a concealed position up ahead,” the Sergeant relayed. We’ll have to provide some suppressing fire as we try moving ahead. Gutierrez, you’re gonna hand Kang the railgun and try administering some aid to Smith. Is that understood?”
Andrew could hear the barely calmed panic in Gutierrez’s voice. “Yes, Sergeant!” He grabbed the railgun and passed it along. Everyone else got into position, ready to lunge out and blast some covering fire.
“Hold…” the Sergeant muttered. She went down, picked up a fragment of metal, and slowly inched it into the open hallway.
The projectile blasted it into pieces.
“Now!”
The rest of the team returned intense machinegun fire as they assaulted the concealed position. It must’ve been fifty or so meters away, as the team had to sprint in their firing and maneuvering. Thanks to their APEs, they crossed the distance in no time to find the Pentagramists hiding behind a well-hung tarp.
There it was: the railgun. It was a similar make and model as the ones made in the labs, but with slight modifications to make it a little easier to handle, like a cut barrel and a reinforced stock. But that wasn’t the strangest part.
Usually, Pentagramists were bumbling idiots who wore cloaks. These people had hoods, but they also had bodyarmor, rifles, and a semblance of military training. Something weird was going on.
And frankly, Andrew didn’t give a fuck. He pointed his weapon and blasted the gunner in the head.
The rest of the team kept pushing as they found a whole horde of Pentagramists coming down on their position. “Cheng!” the Sergeant yelled. “Get the railgun! We can use it to punch a hole in their line!”
“Got it!”
Andrew moved the corpse out of the way. By the way it was staring, the body looked like he hardly believed Andrew’s APE could travel that fast. In any case, the gun was pretty easy to pull away from his gripping fingers.
He aimed down the sight, spotted a Pentagramist machinegunner, and pulled the trigger. Andrew never knew a skull could explode like a watermelon until that moment. Actually, scratch that, he had zipped someone like that a long time ago.
The fight seemed to span only for ten more seconds, though it really was ten more minutes. The Pentagramists kept coming and CDR-4 kept killing. Even with Smith down and Gutierrez sticking back to help him, the rest of the team had enough lethality to make short work of the reinforcements.
By the end, there was a bunker full of bodies. Police finally came in after CDR-4 conducted a sweep of their area, and a new line was established. Andrew hoped that medical teams could arrive soon enough.
They didn’t.
***
Name: Alex Smith.
Former Designation: CDR-4.
Time of death: 0232.
Cause of death: Exsanguination secondary to penetrating ballistic trauma (railgun projectile) sustained in the line of duty.
Remarks: CDR teammate attempted to bring casualty to medical staff, but was denied approach from authorities. Teammate was unable to halt the bleeding after fifteen minutes. Casualty expired on site.