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FederalTacticalParanormalNeutralizationSquad, Chapter I
[OOC]

1:32 AM, Seattle General Hospital

Squad Leader Richardson cradled Private Thomas in his arms, taking care to hold the man’s brains in with his right hand. Thomas said nothing, though he continued to sob softly and breath sporadically despite the fact that a good deal of his skull and a healthy chunk of his brain were missing. Richardson didn’t have the heart to tell him that he wasn’t going to make it, and before today, he couldn’t recall holding a grown man like a baby in his lap. Richardson himself was mortally wounded, and if Thomas wasn’t in the way, he’d be able to examine what he was pretty sure was his spleen and some of his intestines.

Soaked in blood and other human filth, Richardson and Thomas didn’t look much like the corpses that surrounded them. The walls of the hallway were lined with blood spatter; the floor looking not unlike a river of red, wherein not a spot of the white tiling was showing but at the edges where the hallway intersecting with anther perpendicular to it. Bodies of nurses, doctors, patients, and the rest of Richardson’s crew laid about, most of them having their internal organs strewn about in piles nearby or missing appendages altogether.

Richardson reached for his Colt with his left arm, being careful not to bump Thomas. Carefully, he released the clip, taking count of his remaining cartridges. Only one shot left. It would only take one shot to kill that thing, but if his whole squad got wiped out by just one, what hope did he have of hitting it? Grinding his teeth at the though, he realized that there was a better use for his last bullet.

Without telling Thomas what he was about to do, Richardson released the man’s brains, which poured out of his skull like wet spaghetti, virtually dissolving as they hit the floor. Thomas’s body twitched a bit, then went limp, while Richardson stuffed the business end of the Colt in his mouth. With a quick pull of the trigger, he ended his misery, sending his own brain matter through the roof of his skull and repainting and texturing the wall behind him.

…

11:00AM, Undisclosed Location

“Welcome to Washington, ladies and gentleman,” Commander Vera addressed to the people sitting about the long, rectangular table, “I would like to personally congratulate you on your successful acceptance to this newly founded squad. Though you each have your very own, highly varied backgrounds, you’ve each been selected for the same reason. You’re extremely talented in your respective fields; you’re the baddest of the badasses.”

Vera paused for a moment, chuckling lightly before continuing, “And that’s exactly what we need for this sort of… situation. Roughly forty-eight hours ago, Seattle SWAT was deployed to respond to a bizarre report from Seattle General Hospital. Upon entrance to the building, they found most of the people that had been in the hospital at the time brutally slain and mutilated. Those that weren’t dead were unable to respond to questioning, and, unfortunately, none of them made it to safety alive. Initially, there was no sign of the intruders, until SWAT reached the security office, where they reviewed closed-circuit footage of what they described to be a creature which was human in form, but appeared to have no skin, and could crawl up walls and even along the ceiling. They were immediately given orders to neutralize the creature, but were systematically slain, one by one. Three hours after entering the structure, all contact was lost with the SWAT team, and all entrances to the structure were sealed off. None of the bodies have been removed from the structure for fear of the creatures escaping during the process.”

Stopping for a moment to drink from a glass of water on the table, the room fell dead silent, until he continued his speech, “That is where you come in. Until now, the federal government has not had a need for a specially trained unit to deal with a situation such as this. Unfortunately, we do not have the time to train you, either. But that is why we have selected you. Even without specialized training, our analysis has determined that you have what it takes to get in there and rip those things a new one. And by noon tomorrow, your asses will be busting down the door on the roof of Seattle General. Dismissed.”

The group of people got out of their seats and headed for the door, but as the last person walked past Commander Vera, he stopped him with a slap on the chest.

“You’re Lane Carson, correct?” Vera asked.

“Yes, sir,” Carson replied.

“As squad leader, it is your duty to know each and every one of your men,” Vera continued, forcing a box full of folders into Carson’s hands.

“Yes, sir.”

“That all you can say, Carson?”

“No, sir.”

“Good boy,” Vera chuckled. “Now get the hell out of here.”

…

12:13 AM, Undisclosed Location

Lane hoisted the box up onto the table in his office at the end of the barracks, digging the pile of folders out and plopping them down next to the box. His own folder was right on top, and he decided to look it over just for the hell of it.


Name: Lane Carson
Age: 27
Height: 6’1”
Weight: 205 lbs
Eyes: BLU
Transfer: Delta Force
History: Born and raised in Wisconsin. Acceptable academic achievements. Joined Army out of high school. Made Delta Force seven years later. Acceptable combat experience. Acceptable combat efficiency.
Medical: Broken right tibia at age 17. Declared KIA during Delta Force op; revived without assistance under "mysterious circumstance" and subsequently recuperated under intensive care. Briefly displayed signs of PTSD and mild schizophrenia, both of which showed symptoms for only three weeks after declaration of death.

Frowning and running a hand over the stubble on his shaved head, Lane pushed his folder aside, and went to the next one.

…

12:00 PM, Seattle General Hospital

Hopping off the chopper onto the concrete rooftop of Seattle General, Lane made a break for the door to the stairwell with his squad in tow. Upon reaching the wall, he slammed his back into it just to the left of the door.

“Form up!” he ordered as he tried the lock. “It’s locked! Get the pick to the front!”

Lane looked down the line of his squad members, waiting for one of them to pop out and move for the door. Most of them were packing MP5’s, though a couple had a M16 or a pistol gripped pump action twelve gauge. They were also each armed with a couple of flashbangs. The creature that they were being sent in to destroy did not appear to use any sort of projectile weaponry, so they were only equipped with light body armor.

Somewhere within the structure, a twisted abomination stirred.

…

Rules
1. Use the character sheet that I used for my character. Post it in your first post.
2. Use either an MP5, M16, or pistol grip pump. Do not add any additional equipment.
3. Your character cannot be paranormal, though they may be able to see or communicate with the paranormal through external means. This means that while they cannot sit down and have a chat with the dead or see them floating around, they may feel as though something is watching them, or see them in a dream or extremely altered state of mind. They may not have any “superpowers,” either. For the most part, they should be a fairly normal person.
4. This is the first in a series of chapters. Each chapter will be a new thread so that new RP’ers can join in, or if need be, old ones can leave without significantly disrupting the plot. In this method, a player’s character can even be killed, and that player can simply make another character in the next thread. Threads will be relatively short for these reasons, but that only makes them easier to complete. With any luck, my system should work out pretty nicely.
5. Join up, follow the rules, and have fun!

Johnny Grey was next to descend from the helicopter, sliding quickly to solid ground. Hastily detaching himself from the cord, he then gave the thumbs up that dismissed the helicopter from the rooftop and a stagnant calmness returned to the night air. Completing his initial duty, he trotted back in file with the rest of the squad, motioning to Carson that he was the last to be deployed.

Grey had been signed on to Paranormal Operations for his mechanical and electrical brilliance, catching interested eyes with his astonishing tinkering abilities while working for the military. His first claim to military-wide recognition was when his covert ops team was pinned down during an infiltration overseas, and utilizing a demolition trigger, a flashlight and a magnet from his headset, the young Johnny constructed an electromagnetic pulse charge that effectively disabled the power grid long enough for his squad to escape, ultimately successful. Grey was now the FTPNS engineer, equipped with a shotgun and more gadgets than the Inspector.

Now that the squad was formed at Seattle General's roof access, Carson called for entry. That was Johnny's area. He promptly approached the door and grabbed something from a pocket on his belt. That something was then slotted in between the door and the frame where the deadbolt would be spanning. The card-like object seemed to slightly glow after a few seconds, and Johnny then slammed his left palm into it, forcing the item through the bolt. Something thudded onto the floor on the other side of the door and Johnny smiled in approval, nodding at Carson.

"Open."

Name: Matt O'Donnell
Age: 28
Height: 5'10''
Weight: 213 lbs
Eyes: Green
Transfer: US Rangers
History: Born in Dublin, Ireland. Family moved to Tennessee when Matt was four years old. Grew up in the mountains of Tennessee hunting with his dad. Picked up martial arts at the age of fourteen and continued to train in judo, jujitsu, and Muay Thai kickboxing until he signed up for the army at the age of twenty.
Medical: Received a right broken humerus and ulna in a competition at sixteen. Received slight gunshot wounds during service.
__________________________________________________ _______________

Matt O'Donnell was the second one to get out of the helicopter. He quickly took his place in line and stood at attention perfectly still with his M16 ready in front of him. He did not know exactly what was in there and it all seemed a little strange. He kept running everything through his head and tried to keep his calm, just like the Rangers trained him to do.

After his initial training as a ranger. He chose to train in the survival and evasion areas they offered. After that he was given an option to be a squad leader and gladly took it up after receiving abit more weapons training. However all this training did not seem to prepare him for this task.

He viewed the squad that was assembled, and wondered what their training was. He was trained as a leader and too lead the way, however he wasn't sure if he should be the first one in. He waited for his commanding officer to give the order after the squad's engineer said the door was open.

Name: Bertrand Ames
Age: 36
Height: 6’5”
Weight: 240 lbs
Eyes: BRN
Transfer: Retirement, ex-French Foreign Legion

History: Born Abdelaziz Zéroual to poor, first-immigration Algerians in France, his parents were killed in a car accident when he was eight years old, leaving him in poverty. He dropped out of secondary school and resorted to petty crime and odd-jobs to get by, until joining the Foreign Legion as a way to start a new life. At this point, he abandoned his Arabic name in favor for a French one, Bertrand Ames. Distinguishing himself in multiple theatres, and becoming a commissioned officer within the Legion, Ames is a seasoned veteran. He chose to retire from the Legion and move to the United States after, in his words, “growing bored,” at the ripe age of 33. He attempted to live off the savings he had amassed, but those had begun to dwindle. The FBI found Ames with his hands poking around in some drug-related business to earn money, but he was given the “special” option of joining FTPNS instead of serving out his legal sentence, thanks to his history, and his monstrous physical constitution.

Medical: Broken left leg at age 6. Gunshot wound in the left arm, age 16. Gunshot wound in right shoulder, age 19. Gunshot wound in the right leg, age 23. Broken foot, age 24. Bayonet injury to torso, age 26. Gunshot wound in torso, age 26. Gunshot wound in left arm, age 26. Gunshot wound in right arm, age 26. Gunshot wound in right shoulder, age 26. Gunshot wound in neck, age 26. Gunshot wound in buttocks, age 26. Broken left arm, age 26. Broken left leg, age 26. Gunshot wound in left foot, age 32. Broken right foot, age 33. All injuries non-fatal and fully recovered after maximum 1 year rest and rehab.

_________________________________________________


Ames lowered himself onto the roof slowly and easily. That’s how he had broken the last foot, after all. Dropping from a chopper sloppily. And he had been that leading officer in that mission—completely embarrassing!

At least he didn’t have to worry about these American dogs respecting him. He didn’t need their respect. All he wanted was the FBI out of his derriere. Oh, and the money. Couldn’t forget that. They’d promised to pay for his early retirement as an extra incentive to stay out of crime after he’d played along with their little paranormal squad. He’d hadn’t counted on the couple dozen thousand Euros he had amassed while at the Legion drying up so quickly, and he needed money. He shrugged inwardly. The past was past, in his eyes.

The thing that mattered lay in front: a solid door, freshly picked by one of the Americans, and whatever had apparently killed everyone in a hospital, plus a SWAT team, beyond that. Ames wasn't really surprised when he realized he was being asked on a mission so clearly so important: American crime enforcement didn’t have a great reputation abroad. Still, he wasn’t surprised how the US government needed him. He’d be the one to slay the perpetrator. The chopper, his “teammates” — they were all just window dressing.

"Open," announced Grey.

Lane nodded back to Grey, then reached for the door handle. Grey would be able to keep him covered from there. Anything that might just so happen to be waiting on the other side of that door would be getting a face full of twelve gauge in short odor. As Lane started to pull the door open, he felt a sort of pressure from the other side. It was extremely light, but nonetheless noticeably present.

"There's something there," Lane announced. "Grey, keep it covered!"

Pulling ever so slowly, Lane cracked open the door a little further, allowing the lovely aroma of hundreds of decaying corpses to billow outwards into Grey's personal space. It was enough to gag a maggot, and they would all be heading into it in a minute. Lane hadn't gotten a whiff, yet, nor the rest of the team for that matter. As he continued to open the door, a two-foot long, roundish mass of ownerless human flesh flopped onto the pavement from it's previous resting place against the inside of the door.

And with the door now fully open, it was the rest of the team's turn to get a whiff of what had been brewing in the sealed structure. Lane winced and instinctively brought his left hand from the doorknob to his face, wrinkling his nose in disgust.

"****,' he muttered just under the threshold limit on his radio mic. "On me!"

Shouldering his MP5, he stepped over the hunk of fetid carcass, and started on his trip down the staircase into the building. There was no sign of the body that the chunk belonged to, only a slick coating of blood that covered the entire stair well, the better half of the inside of the door, and parts of the walls, and smaller chunks of internal organs, mostly intestines. Even the ceiling had spatter on it here and there.

At least it was well lit.

Moving slowly so as not to slip on the stairs, Lane made his way to the bottom of the stairs. The door that would normally be there had been ripped off of it's hinges, and now laid dented and useless on the floor. The long hallway that stretched before them looked only slightly more promising than the stairwell. Blood still graced the floor and walls, but mostly in the form of puddles and splattering, as opposed to the waterfall they had trudged through on their way down.

Their first objective was to find the security center, stop the closed circuit recording process, and recover all recorded material. The security center would be just down the hall and to the left. Lane was pretty sure he could see it from his current position. Moving with the utmost caution, Lane made his way to the door.

“Form up!” he ordered as he reached it. It was a magnetically sealed sliding door with a card reader just to the right. "Grey, see if you can get this thing open."

Just then, something shuffled across the intersection between the two hallways, Lane having noticed the movement in his peripheral vision. He instantly raised his MP5 to cover the hallway, his heart now pounding heavily in his chest.

"Element spotted, might be our target. O'Donnell, take point and figure out what the fuck that was. Ames, keep him covered. Grey and I will will stay on the lock," Carson commanded.

O'Donnell brought his M16 up as he began walking down the hall where this thing apparently ran. He reached the hallway and saw something unexplainable at the other end.

“Is it eating that body,” O’Donnell said softly as he took aim at the things back and squeezed the trigger. The round being fired shattered the silence of the hospital. “Target is neutralized, going to see what the fuck it was,” O’Donnell said into the mic as he started walking towards the thing.

He saw the body of what appeared to be surgeon with bite marks all over his body and chunks of flesh missing once he turned the “dead” body over. He leaned his M16 on the wall and spoke into the mic. “Carson sir, it appears it was one of the surgeons; however he was missing chunks of hi…” O’Donnell said before having his leg swept by something as he fell to the ground. He rolled over and saw the surgeon he shot was grabbing at him and trying to bite him. O'Donnell fighting off the thing with his feet reached for his combat knife sheathed on his belt. He pulled the kinfe out and in one and rammed the knife into the creatures skull in one smooth motion. He then pulled the kinfe out and grabbed it back in again and twisted just to make sure it was dead. He cleaned the blade and placed the knife back in its sheath.

“How the fuck did it survive my shot,” O’Donnell said as he grabbed his M16 and kept the sights on the creature “forget the shot how the fuck was it even alive.” O’Donnell was catching his breath and trying to sort all this out. “Carson you might want to see this,” he said into the mic “it’s not human.”

Skin draped from the ceiling that spanned the descending stairs like the roof of a mouth after a bowl of Captain Crunch. Johnny Grey noticed a slab of epidermis that somehow made it onto his shoulder and peeled it off, slapping it against the wall where it made a slurpy thud. Blood and bile freshly coated the area with the occasional kidney or hunk of stomach lining. It was unsettling, but Johnny kept his shotgun poised and trigger-ready at a slight angle off Carson's back and moved at a step-per-step basis as the squad leader. The floor leveled back out when the stairs ended and Carson armed the corner. Off to the right, Johnny noticed a "Watch for Slippery Floor" custodial cone and found it inwardly amusing.


Johnny Grey wasn't really a "jumper." He never winced and it was hard to startle the guy. Even in the moment of tranquil concentration as he analyzed the card slot, the gunfire down the hall that ripped apart utter silence still fell short of phasing Johnny. A backpack of assorted gadgets slumped against the wall between his legs and he probed the slot like a gynecologist with chop sticks. As he fiddled, numbers on a screen changed. The more he fiddled, the more he seemed to like the sequence of numbers. Finally, he apparently settled on a string of numbers he approved of and stepped back from his work, taking something from the card slot and slipping it into one of his own gadgets.

"We've got access." Nonchalance. An LED on a display turned green and the door slid quietly open. Johnny cracked key code access to one of the highest securities this building could muster under two minutes and he couldn't even crack a smile. The small device in Johnny's hand printed out four flawless keycards and he fanned them out to Carson like a winning poker hand. "And now we've got access to the whole floor."

Ames, whose MP5 had not left O’Donnell’s back while the poor boy struggled with the creature, trained his weapon on the lifeless corpses hunched along the corridors as he approached the intersection.

“Ahh, boy, ze creature frightened you?” He was grinning. He put his hand on O’Donnell’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. Ze greenhorns always are scared.” He chuckled. “A valuable lesson, zough, iz zat ve can keel zem by shooting zer heads.”

Ames switched his MP5 to semi-automatic and began making his way back towards Grey. At each corpse he passed, he stopped and placed a bullet in their skull, no matter how lifeless they seemed. He wasn’t sure what to do with the ones without heads, though, but he assumed they were already neutralized.

On some level, Ames was disappointed. Had they merely walked into some zombie movie recreation? He sighed. Surely, the American scientists could be more creative than Hollywood when it came to their experiments that went horribly wrong.

He snatched the key-card from quickly from Grey, grunting, and continued “neutralizing” nearby corpses. Eventually, he was forced to aim at their heads from a distance, not daring to venture far from his comrades. Aiming at a particularly distant corpse all the way at the end of the hall, Ames missed, the bullet breaking the glass on a fire-extinguisher box, though luckily missing the tank itself. Ames missed a heartbeat when he realized what he had nearly done. He quickly fell back in with the others, remembering that when he was a squad leader, he didn’t tolerate such carelessness. Ames knew little about Richardson so far, and so he didn’t want to risk alienating someone who might be a competent leader.

"We've got access," Grey spoke nonchalantly. "And now we've got access to the whole floor."

"Good man," Carson replied, taking one of the cards. As he reached for the card reader on the door, gunshots crackled from around the corner, breaking the dead silence in the hospital. Carson's brow folded as he waited for the radio chatter.

“Target is neutralized, going to see what the fuck it was," O'Donnell reported.

"Copy," Carson grunted.

“Carson sir, it appears it was one of the surgeons; however he was missing chunks of hi…” O'Donnell started, apparently cut off. Carson paused for a moment to listen. No gunshots, no radio chatter. But just when Carson was about to run around the corner, O'Donnell reported in again.

"Carson, you might want to see this. It's not human."

"Negative. We'll ask questions later. Get your asses back to the security station," Carson commanded.

More gunshots resounded from the hallway, staggered by a few seconds each as Ames meandered down the hall, plugging corpses in the head. When he came into sight, still sling his weapon carelessly popping off shots, Carson felt himself filled with rage, about to explode into a full-blown shitfit.

Ames sauntered on over to Grey, snatched a keycard from him, then aimed down the hall, almost nailing a fire extinguisher. Carson sprang at him, grabbing his vest collar with his right hand and pushing on his shoulder with his left. Ames would spin around and slam into the wall of the security center with a tremendous THUMP, where Carson would then proceed to scream in his face.

"Get the FUCK back into formation, you imbecile!" he hollered. "For the duration of this operation, your ass is MINE, and you WILL NOT fuck up! Now STAY, and keep your mouth SHUT."

"I'm heeere," a voice hissed, centimeters away from Ames's right ear. The owner of the voice would then stick it's tongue in Ames's ear. Carson instantly took two steps back, shouldering his MP5, and scanning the ceilings, walls, and even the floor around Ames. There was nothing there. Nothing visible to human eyes, anyway.

"What the fuck was that?!" he yelled.

Johnny instinctively fumbled through his bag and fetched yet another device that resembled goggles. Fitting them onto his forehead, he made the necessary adjustments to the three straps that hugged his skull until the goggles fit snugly. With a simple motion, he flipped the lenses over his eyes knowing that he should have had them on since he walked into this morbid slaughterhouse. Pressing an invisible button on the side of one strap, the goggles came online and Johnny's eyes lit up with a blue backlight. Still poised at the open security door only feet away from the epicenter of the voice's origin, he looked at Carson and Ames through the goggles. All was completely black through the lenses except for the bluish outlines of his two squadmates.

"O'Donnel!" Googles still on, he scanned the immediate area rapidly searching for O'Donnel's bluish trace. It wasn't there. Didn't he come back with Ames? Johnny suddenly wasn't sure. "Where the fuck is O'Donnel?"

Wait, what was next to Ames?! A green slowly emerged, then it morphed into a yellow, then an orange. The visual readings were climbing the scale, and fast!

"AMES." Johnny flipped up the goggles to take a naked eye look then immediately slid them back on. "Get down, NOW!" He then ripped his pump action from his back and pointed it just off Ames' right ear. Something was there. Johnny fidgeted with a knob on his goggles to get a higher resolution scan. What was that?