Zack
Inactive Member
The APC rolled to a halt outside the massive house. The back opened quickly, and five ID-SOLs covered in ballistics armor hopped to the ground. They walked to the gate, eying it carefully, and keeping the heavy Xaser rifles they carried aimed in the general direction of the estate's entrance. Behind them, a much smaller Nepleslian man was speaking rapidly into a communicator. He stopped for a moment and looked to the house, furrowing his brow. The large house with the holographic gates had supposedly been empty for close to six months now. At least, no one had gone in and no one had come out, and someone had stopped paying taxes. The last few tax collectors who were sent didn't come back. "Break down the gate. Proceed to the door." The Nepleslian was in a foul mood, and showed it by adding a substantial amount of venom to his words. His subordinates obeyed, and were quickly at the door of the house, waiting for the go-ahead to kick down the door. However, the small communicator on the mission leader suddenly went off. The man groaned and answered, dreading the fact that it may be yet another one of the abysmal IPG Core personnel who used him as an errand boy. However, instead of a voice or text message, it was a number of pictures, preceeded by the subject line of "Destiny Photos IPG MUST READ". And most of them were quite disturbing. He gazed at the files in disgust, but waved his men through the door anyway, staying at his spot in the grass with his eyes on the communicator screen. The massive supersoldiers on the porch shrugged and easily pushed the door down before continuing inside with Xaser weapons raised.
The interior of the house had an oppressive atmosphere, caused by lighting which not so much emulated twilight but only a lighter shade of black as well as a smell which was sickly sweet and strangely pleasant. The walls were frayed as if some creature had clawed at them, although this beast must have had claws that could gauge through plaster and brick, not to mention the mind to carve patterns and strange words which were has horrific as they were beautiful. As the supersoldiers advanced into the house they were met by a figure walking out from one of the doors. The figure was wearing the suit of an official and had certainly been human at some point in the past, except now it was something different. Where his upper arms had been there were only bleached bone, connecting to full forearms concealed by the suit, wrapped around with strips of leather, his hands had surgically removed, placed on the other hand and reversed around so there palms faced the sky – the left clutching his heart, the right his dismembered testicles (although a cursory glance would not gather this). Perhaps most horrific though was his face – his neck was covered with blood-soaked dollar bills, his eyes had been removed and replaced with coins and his cheeks were riddled with currency which had been forced through them. The abomination walked towards them, opening its mouth from which a torrent of small change poured, holding its hands out as if offering them its foul content. Strangely no scent of decay rolled of the visual abomination.
While the ID-SOLs weren't full Operators, they still were quite well trained. They also didn't look forward to letting the terrible creature confronting them anywhere near their bodies. "FIRE!" The men quickly spread, so that they wouldn't be dumping the lethal radiation into each others' backs, and two backed out the door, flanking the entrance to the house and pointing their weapons at the opening. Inside, the three remaining troops quickly began blasting away with the terrifyingly powerful energy. The mission leader on the lawn looked up from his communicator, looking quite confused. "What the hell's going on?" He drew his RPB with it's detonating rounds and pointed it to the door, waiting for whatever threat was to emerge.
The poor excuse for a creature’s body exploded under the force of the firepower levelled at it – fried flesh showered the supersoldiers and the surrounding area in charred flesh, which continued to move slightly, although with no particular cohesion.
“You have temporarily destroyed one of my toys, and with uncivilised weaponry.” A voice which seemed to have no distinguishing features beyond chilling the listener to the core seemed to come out of nowhere, “Although your choice in designer is … interesting. Tell me who you are before you die.”
The ID-SOLs ignored the disembodied audio. The three indoors motioned for a fourth soldier to follow them in. The Nepleslia moved up to the door to replace him. The soldiers quickly moved through the ground floor of the house, leveling their rifles through the rooms, searching for the source of the chilling voice.
The rooms they passed were lain out as if to entertain a family in an evening, with boardsets out on tables, tapes and DVD’s – however they were also destroyed. The board games were frayed or inserted forcefully into walls, tapes were ripped open and trapped across the room as decorations and DVD’s were implanted into the floor. It was only when the first of the supersoldiers passed into the dining room the tragedy struck. A spike sprung from the ceiling as if from no-where, piercing through the helmet of the unfortunate man, running through his eye and deep into his brain before withdrawing as fast as it had come – leaving only a small hole in the ceiling. Inside the dining room things were laid out just the same as they had when the house had first been invaded, the bodies did not even seem to have decomposed.
"Man down, dining room!" The man's partner yelled into his tactical mic. He aimed his rifle towards the ceiling and fired three shots of the lethal energy before quickly exiting the room, back-tracking away, firing randomly into the ceiling on occassion. "Sir, it's a real sick sight in here, and something just fragged Daneeka." He stepped out of the door to the house, his weapon still pointed inwards. The other two soldiers quickly followed him out. The Nepleslian mission leader stood and stepped back from the door. "What the hell's going on, soldier?" The ID-SOL narrowed his eyes at the house, frowning. "I'm counting three dead on-site, plus whatever the fuck that monster was, and now Daneeka." He looked back to his squad leader. "Sir, we should vape this fucking thing."
“You should have talked to me.” The voice drifted across the courtyard, “Why are you here? You may as well talk - you’re not leaving for the time being.” There came a flash from the top window and the APC behind them was engulfed in a ball of fire, “I don’t enjoy being underestimated, Nepleslians.”
"This is Cadet First Class Martin Belgrade of the SAoN-IPG. Identify yourself, Outer!" He stood, staring at the door of the house. By now, all of the soldiers had backed away from the house, most of them pointing their weapons for the door, but two had concentrated on the upper story of the house.
“It is good to know your name, but I’m afraid I must deny you the equivalent honour,” the voice continued to drift across the area and up the men’s spines, “Know that I am the one who is control though. If you make any calls they will go unanswered. Much like your screams.” The voice gave a low laugh, “Why are you here, Nepleslians?”
Belgrade glared at the open door, gritting his teeth. "We're here to investigate just what happened here. I'm assuming you had something to do with the abominations in there, Outer?"
“If you consider it an abomination, yes. Your comrade will soon join him.” The voice answered, “I am not a creature of many words. If you do not keep my interest you will die, and it will not be a soldiers death.”
Shit... we're fucked. "And why," Belgrade began, "Might you be targeting us, Outer? We're only here to examine the circumstances of the tax officer's disappearance, and the lack of contact of this home's inhabitants with the outside world."
“Trespassing, forced entry, abuse of my property. These reasons would be enough.” The voice replied, “Although you seem to think I need a reason. I took this house from filth. Now one of your men dies.” Underneath one of the men the ground simply seemed to fall away with him falling with it, quickly disappearing from sight even as the soil and grass seemed to replace itself, “If you entertain me I won’t make you hear him.”
The Cadet watched as the ground dropped away, and his squadmate with it, a dour, angered expression on his face.. "And how exactly would you like us to entertain you?" He turned his eyes back to the house, most emotion gone from them.
A hollow laugh resonated across the courtyard, “If you kill your comrade without using a weapon, you will have the night to think. If not you will all die.”
Belgrade's eyes went wide, his mouth opening for a response... which was quickly cut off when one of the massive ID-SOLs grabbed his head an snapped the man's neck like a twig. The Nepleslian man's soon-to-be-corpse slumped to the ground, staring wide-eyed at the sky. The ID-SOL turned back to the house. "Was that sufficient, Sir?" He asked in a brisk tone.
“See how easily the bonds that bind break?” The voice asked rhetorically, “You will live – stay outside or in the house, we will speak in the morning. Perhaps.”
________------__-_----_-_---____
The morning came, although it seemed to do little to lighten the atmosphere around the house, although a think layer of dew had fallen on the lawn. The fresh morning smell seemed somehow tainted by the untraceable scent emanating from the house – nothing quite so vulgar as rotting flesh, but something unnatural and unseemly. However when the sun rose, a figure came out to greet the survivors. It was Belgrade, albeit without his skin, his eyes intact but dead, and he spoke without emotion through a neck which was still at a right angle from his body, “I hope you slept well.”
The Belgrade-thing was greeted by several yells of surprise and a volley of explosive RPB fire from two of the ID-SOLs, while the third rapidly armed his Xaser rifle. The men had obviously not been expecting a visit from the skinned corpse of their former squad leader.
The rounds exploded upon contact with Belgrade, blowing off half of his torso and one of his legs and throwing him back several metres. He lay there for a few moments before rising gracefully, the naked muscles of his face distorting into a perverse, “Trying to kill your comrade again? He no longer feels pain. Attacking it insults me and no more.”
The shooting quickly stopped, but the ID-SOL soldiers didn't lower their weapons. The one holding the Xaser rifle (and who had killed Belgrade the previous day) took it upon himself to speak. "What the hell is going on? Who are you?" He questioned, his voice harsh, angry, and even slightly scared. He focused his weapon on Belgrade's head, ready to fire if the monster moved.
“Are you in a position to ask questions? The situation is that you entertain me or die.” The creature rolled its broken head around with a horrific sound, its face still parted in a unnatural grin.
The three supersoldiers glanced at one another. Killing Belgrade, who had not only been a trememdous, condescending pain in the ass, but also far smaller and weaker than any of them, had been an easy task. The ID-SOL with the Xaser turned turned his attention back to Belgrade-thing. "Let me guess. More death?"
“That would only be repetitive. I seek something original.” Belgrade replied, adjusting to more easily stand on his only remaining leg, “For now we speak. What are you?”
"Sergeant Zykes, Star Army of Nepleslia Intelligence Pacification Group." Spoke the Xaser-wielding ID-SOL again. He indicated the man to his left with his finger, "Soldier First Class Kitter," and then to his right, "And Soldier First class Allen."
“One of the later ID-sols I see.” Belgrade replied, the dead eyes slowly looking over the supersoldiers from the heads broken angle “Your forms are efficient. I will have to study one. Why are you here?”
All three of the ID-SOLs frowned at the comment about 'studying.' It didn't seem to bode well for them. "I believe Belgrade told you yesterday. The government stopped hearing from this household for a long time, and then the taxmen that were sent didn't come back either. We were sent to find out why."
“Mere government workers? I was hoping for something more interesting. I advise you to something to maintain my interest or the one who destroyed this creatures arm dies.” The voice now emanated from the house, dead emotion replaced by the spine-chilling tone that purveyed a sense of brooding boredom.
"We're not 'mere government.' We're IPG." Zykes replied, prideful of his employment. "And as for entertaining you, we have no idea how to do that." If he hadn't been scared out of his mind, he would have most likely ended the sentence with something along the lines of "You sick bastard."
“You have pride,” The voice replied before continuing from out of Belgrade’s mouth, “An attachment. You risk your own life in its defense. Tell me of it.”
Zykes blinked. "Uh, what?" He looked to his companions, confused, and was met with similar looks. "We're Special Forces for the Nepleslian government." This was a slight stretch of the truth, as they weren't actually members of the organization, but rather mercenaries on extended employment. "We're good at what we do, and we take pride in it."
“I am truly glad for you.” Belgrade said, “If you wish to live contact your superiors – I wish to speak to them.”
Zykes shrugged and pointed at Belgrade-thing. "He had our link to the IPG, and he had it when he died."
“Then you,” Belgrade pointed at Zykes, “may leave. If someone does not contact me your comrades will wish for death.” Belgrade turned and hopped determinedly back to the house, “They will not be as lucky as this creature.”
Zykes blinked and looked at his comrades. "Uh, excuse me, sir? He probably still has the comm link in his clothes. We could grab it or you could give it to us... or something."
The creature continued into the house, and no reply. As far as the inhabitant was apparently concerned, the conversation was over.
Allen and Kitter both turned to their comrade, worried looks on their faces. Zykes frowned. "Er... Alright. I'll have you guys out soon." Zykes nodded to the two men, confidence on his face. "You'll be fine, don't worry... just... stay out of the damn house!" Zykes turned and jogged away towards the street, turned, and headed for the city.
The interior of the house had an oppressive atmosphere, caused by lighting which not so much emulated twilight but only a lighter shade of black as well as a smell which was sickly sweet and strangely pleasant. The walls were frayed as if some creature had clawed at them, although this beast must have had claws that could gauge through plaster and brick, not to mention the mind to carve patterns and strange words which were has horrific as they were beautiful. As the supersoldiers advanced into the house they were met by a figure walking out from one of the doors. The figure was wearing the suit of an official and had certainly been human at some point in the past, except now it was something different. Where his upper arms had been there were only bleached bone, connecting to full forearms concealed by the suit, wrapped around with strips of leather, his hands had surgically removed, placed on the other hand and reversed around so there palms faced the sky – the left clutching his heart, the right his dismembered testicles (although a cursory glance would not gather this). Perhaps most horrific though was his face – his neck was covered with blood-soaked dollar bills, his eyes had been removed and replaced with coins and his cheeks were riddled with currency which had been forced through them. The abomination walked towards them, opening its mouth from which a torrent of small change poured, holding its hands out as if offering them its foul content. Strangely no scent of decay rolled of the visual abomination.
While the ID-SOLs weren't full Operators, they still were quite well trained. They also didn't look forward to letting the terrible creature confronting them anywhere near their bodies. "FIRE!" The men quickly spread, so that they wouldn't be dumping the lethal radiation into each others' backs, and two backed out the door, flanking the entrance to the house and pointing their weapons at the opening. Inside, the three remaining troops quickly began blasting away with the terrifyingly powerful energy. The mission leader on the lawn looked up from his communicator, looking quite confused. "What the hell's going on?" He drew his RPB with it's detonating rounds and pointed it to the door, waiting for whatever threat was to emerge.
The poor excuse for a creature’s body exploded under the force of the firepower levelled at it – fried flesh showered the supersoldiers and the surrounding area in charred flesh, which continued to move slightly, although with no particular cohesion.
“You have temporarily destroyed one of my toys, and with uncivilised weaponry.” A voice which seemed to have no distinguishing features beyond chilling the listener to the core seemed to come out of nowhere, “Although your choice in designer is … interesting. Tell me who you are before you die.”
The ID-SOLs ignored the disembodied audio. The three indoors motioned for a fourth soldier to follow them in. The Nepleslia moved up to the door to replace him. The soldiers quickly moved through the ground floor of the house, leveling their rifles through the rooms, searching for the source of the chilling voice.
The rooms they passed were lain out as if to entertain a family in an evening, with boardsets out on tables, tapes and DVD’s – however they were also destroyed. The board games were frayed or inserted forcefully into walls, tapes were ripped open and trapped across the room as decorations and DVD’s were implanted into the floor. It was only when the first of the supersoldiers passed into the dining room the tragedy struck. A spike sprung from the ceiling as if from no-where, piercing through the helmet of the unfortunate man, running through his eye and deep into his brain before withdrawing as fast as it had come – leaving only a small hole in the ceiling. Inside the dining room things were laid out just the same as they had when the house had first been invaded, the bodies did not even seem to have decomposed.
"Man down, dining room!" The man's partner yelled into his tactical mic. He aimed his rifle towards the ceiling and fired three shots of the lethal energy before quickly exiting the room, back-tracking away, firing randomly into the ceiling on occassion. "Sir, it's a real sick sight in here, and something just fragged Daneeka." He stepped out of the door to the house, his weapon still pointed inwards. The other two soldiers quickly followed him out. The Nepleslian mission leader stood and stepped back from the door. "What the hell's going on, soldier?" The ID-SOL narrowed his eyes at the house, frowning. "I'm counting three dead on-site, plus whatever the fuck that monster was, and now Daneeka." He looked back to his squad leader. "Sir, we should vape this fucking thing."
“You should have talked to me.” The voice drifted across the courtyard, “Why are you here? You may as well talk - you’re not leaving for the time being.” There came a flash from the top window and the APC behind them was engulfed in a ball of fire, “I don’t enjoy being underestimated, Nepleslians.”
"This is Cadet First Class Martin Belgrade of the SAoN-IPG. Identify yourself, Outer!" He stood, staring at the door of the house. By now, all of the soldiers had backed away from the house, most of them pointing their weapons for the door, but two had concentrated on the upper story of the house.
“It is good to know your name, but I’m afraid I must deny you the equivalent honour,” the voice continued to drift across the area and up the men’s spines, “Know that I am the one who is control though. If you make any calls they will go unanswered. Much like your screams.” The voice gave a low laugh, “Why are you here, Nepleslians?”
Belgrade glared at the open door, gritting his teeth. "We're here to investigate just what happened here. I'm assuming you had something to do with the abominations in there, Outer?"
“If you consider it an abomination, yes. Your comrade will soon join him.” The voice answered, “I am not a creature of many words. If you do not keep my interest you will die, and it will not be a soldiers death.”
Shit... we're fucked. "And why," Belgrade began, "Might you be targeting us, Outer? We're only here to examine the circumstances of the tax officer's disappearance, and the lack of contact of this home's inhabitants with the outside world."
“Trespassing, forced entry, abuse of my property. These reasons would be enough.” The voice replied, “Although you seem to think I need a reason. I took this house from filth. Now one of your men dies.” Underneath one of the men the ground simply seemed to fall away with him falling with it, quickly disappearing from sight even as the soil and grass seemed to replace itself, “If you entertain me I won’t make you hear him.”
The Cadet watched as the ground dropped away, and his squadmate with it, a dour, angered expression on his face.. "And how exactly would you like us to entertain you?" He turned his eyes back to the house, most emotion gone from them.
A hollow laugh resonated across the courtyard, “If you kill your comrade without using a weapon, you will have the night to think. If not you will all die.”
Belgrade's eyes went wide, his mouth opening for a response... which was quickly cut off when one of the massive ID-SOLs grabbed his head an snapped the man's neck like a twig. The Nepleslian man's soon-to-be-corpse slumped to the ground, staring wide-eyed at the sky. The ID-SOL turned back to the house. "Was that sufficient, Sir?" He asked in a brisk tone.
“See how easily the bonds that bind break?” The voice asked rhetorically, “You will live – stay outside or in the house, we will speak in the morning. Perhaps.”
________------__-_----_-_---____
The morning came, although it seemed to do little to lighten the atmosphere around the house, although a think layer of dew had fallen on the lawn. The fresh morning smell seemed somehow tainted by the untraceable scent emanating from the house – nothing quite so vulgar as rotting flesh, but something unnatural and unseemly. However when the sun rose, a figure came out to greet the survivors. It was Belgrade, albeit without his skin, his eyes intact but dead, and he spoke without emotion through a neck which was still at a right angle from his body, “I hope you slept well.”
The Belgrade-thing was greeted by several yells of surprise and a volley of explosive RPB fire from two of the ID-SOLs, while the third rapidly armed his Xaser rifle. The men had obviously not been expecting a visit from the skinned corpse of their former squad leader.
The rounds exploded upon contact with Belgrade, blowing off half of his torso and one of his legs and throwing him back several metres. He lay there for a few moments before rising gracefully, the naked muscles of his face distorting into a perverse, “Trying to kill your comrade again? He no longer feels pain. Attacking it insults me and no more.”
The shooting quickly stopped, but the ID-SOL soldiers didn't lower their weapons. The one holding the Xaser rifle (and who had killed Belgrade the previous day) took it upon himself to speak. "What the hell is going on? Who are you?" He questioned, his voice harsh, angry, and even slightly scared. He focused his weapon on Belgrade's head, ready to fire if the monster moved.
“Are you in a position to ask questions? The situation is that you entertain me or die.” The creature rolled its broken head around with a horrific sound, its face still parted in a unnatural grin.
The three supersoldiers glanced at one another. Killing Belgrade, who had not only been a trememdous, condescending pain in the ass, but also far smaller and weaker than any of them, had been an easy task. The ID-SOL with the Xaser turned turned his attention back to Belgrade-thing. "Let me guess. More death?"
“That would only be repetitive. I seek something original.” Belgrade replied, adjusting to more easily stand on his only remaining leg, “For now we speak. What are you?”
"Sergeant Zykes, Star Army of Nepleslia Intelligence Pacification Group." Spoke the Xaser-wielding ID-SOL again. He indicated the man to his left with his finger, "Soldier First Class Kitter," and then to his right, "And Soldier First class Allen."
“One of the later ID-sols I see.” Belgrade replied, the dead eyes slowly looking over the supersoldiers from the heads broken angle “Your forms are efficient. I will have to study one. Why are you here?”
All three of the ID-SOLs frowned at the comment about 'studying.' It didn't seem to bode well for them. "I believe Belgrade told you yesterday. The government stopped hearing from this household for a long time, and then the taxmen that were sent didn't come back either. We were sent to find out why."
“Mere government workers? I was hoping for something more interesting. I advise you to something to maintain my interest or the one who destroyed this creatures arm dies.” The voice now emanated from the house, dead emotion replaced by the spine-chilling tone that purveyed a sense of brooding boredom.
"We're not 'mere government.' We're IPG." Zykes replied, prideful of his employment. "And as for entertaining you, we have no idea how to do that." If he hadn't been scared out of his mind, he would have most likely ended the sentence with something along the lines of "You sick bastard."
“You have pride,” The voice replied before continuing from out of Belgrade’s mouth, “An attachment. You risk your own life in its defense. Tell me of it.”
Zykes blinked. "Uh, what?" He looked to his companions, confused, and was met with similar looks. "We're Special Forces for the Nepleslian government." This was a slight stretch of the truth, as they weren't actually members of the organization, but rather mercenaries on extended employment. "We're good at what we do, and we take pride in it."
“I am truly glad for you.” Belgrade said, “If you wish to live contact your superiors – I wish to speak to them.”
Zykes shrugged and pointed at Belgrade-thing. "He had our link to the IPG, and he had it when he died."
“Then you,” Belgrade pointed at Zykes, “may leave. If someone does not contact me your comrades will wish for death.” Belgrade turned and hopped determinedly back to the house, “They will not be as lucky as this creature.”
Zykes blinked and looked at his comrades. "Uh, excuse me, sir? He probably still has the comm link in his clothes. We could grab it or you could give it to us... or something."
The creature continued into the house, and no reply. As far as the inhabitant was apparently concerned, the conversation was over.
Allen and Kitter both turned to their comrade, worried looks on their faces. Zykes frowned. "Er... Alright. I'll have you guys out soon." Zykes nodded to the two men, confidence on his face. "You'll be fine, don't worry... just... stay out of the damn house!" Zykes turned and jogged away towards the street, turned, and headed for the city.
