PrinceAlexus
GOATPlumber
JFK
Dyelli Beybi
Not a Sayan
PatientBean
CassidyTheButch
BingellyField Commander Daniel Graves
Obsidian Dynamics Research Facility
Utah
Graves felt the familiar crunch of glass and debris underfoot; boots plodding though the ruined security checkpoint that had once serviced the missing front door.
Turned over chairs, a flipped table, the familiar dull gleam of spent casings amidst the dust.
And blood. Not fresh; but fresh enough to still hold the familiar crimson color on the previous polished floor.
Concerning was the distinct lack of bodies to go with the blood spattering the floor and walls.
And the obvious blood trail that denoted something being dragged.
Grave reset this grip on the MK18; the slight anxious shuffling of his trigger finger while making his way into the lobby.
It was more of the same as the checkpoint. A previously opened area full of plush waiting chairs, a receptionist area, an abandoned in house (off brand) coffee shop and obvious signs of struggle.
Bloody handprints and spatters were visible in surfaces in the still functioning industrial lighting. Personal articles discarded in the chaos but signs of their owners. A few weapons, Sigs-Sauer pistols, lay discarded as well. Slides sacked backed but no signs of their targets.
The only trace of any bodies was the same as the checkpoint.
A massive blood trail that led through a, now beaten open, double door. The trail from the checkpoint haven converged with several from the lobby to form a massive snaking mass of dried gore.
“Oh that’s just perfect.” Graves voice was muffled by the gas mask but the sarcasm was evident.
“Bet you it’s zombies.” That was Greene; one of the guys Graves had picked to help staff up Silent Mountain. Good shooter but always jumpy in the initial stages.
“It’s not zombies.” Graves rebuked. Not out of any sense of certainty but rather stopping them from focusing on a threat that hadn’t even been ID’d yet.
Movement in the corner of his eye had Graves catch sight of the security camera. Old school corner mounted style; oddly its recording light wasn’t red but a deep electric blue. It panned over the lobby taking in the enemy arrived team and seemed to stop on Graves.
The commander stared at it for a second before turning to the two nearest shooters.
Fabio and Kedem.
Fabio wasn’t wearing his gas mask; aviators still affixed to his face. Kedem looked like the typical Direct action type on mission; only distinguishable from the others by the slightest of difference in stance.
“Fabio, Kedem. Go get that tech with the giant shotgun. Find the security room and see if someone is locked inside. Or maybe a recording of what happened.”
Behind him Lima Team cautiously prepared to follow the blood trial through the door. Weapons up as they slowly entered into the hall beyond.
The distant crump and the ensuring shaking beneath his boots signaled Kilo team had breached the loading bay. The lack of gunfire or follow on transmission denoted an equal absence of contact.
Graves just hoped it would stay this way.
But judging by the flood of images every time he glanced at that blood trail. The peace would not last.
@Dyelli Beybi, @Theyra,@PrinceAlexus
—————————-
Field Contract Advisor Samantha Norr
Obsidian Dynamics Research Facility
Utah
Norr had wished she had changed her field attire before leaving the bunker. The gray of the uniform eating the heat of the desert.
She gave a rueful glare at the off didn’t sun before she shifted her hat’s brim down slightly. Coming beside Dr. Mansour as the explosions of the breach faded.
“I know I have little experience in your field.” She stated off adopting the tone the managing handbook described as ‘informative but not patronizing’ “But the reporters’ news van is over there.”
A nod of her head at the van with the shrink wrapped logo of a local news station emblazoned in its side. Untouched except by the dusty wind and now shockwave of the breach. Though except for a subtle rocking it appeared more or less intact.
“Maybe we can look it over while we have the time….before the hooting starts at least.” A look of displeasure on her face that notion.
@Tesserach, @PatientBean
Obsidian Dynamics Research Facility
Utah
Graves felt the familiar crunch of glass and debris underfoot; boots plodding though the ruined security checkpoint that had once serviced the missing front door.
Turned over chairs, a flipped table, the familiar dull gleam of spent casings amidst the dust.
And blood. Not fresh; but fresh enough to still hold the familiar crimson color on the previous polished floor.
Concerning was the distinct lack of bodies to go with the blood spattering the floor and walls.
And the obvious blood trail that denoted something being dragged.
Grave reset this grip on the MK18; the slight anxious shuffling of his trigger finger while making his way into the lobby.
It was more of the same as the checkpoint. A previously opened area full of plush waiting chairs, a receptionist area, an abandoned in house (off brand) coffee shop and obvious signs of struggle.
Bloody handprints and spatters were visible in surfaces in the still functioning industrial lighting. Personal articles discarded in the chaos but signs of their owners. A few weapons, Sigs-Sauer pistols, lay discarded as well. Slides sacked backed but no signs of their targets.
The only trace of any bodies was the same as the checkpoint.
A massive blood trail that led through a, now beaten open, double door. The trail from the checkpoint haven converged with several from the lobby to form a massive snaking mass of dried gore.
“Oh that’s just perfect.” Graves voice was muffled by the gas mask but the sarcasm was evident.
“Bet you it’s zombies.” That was Greene; one of the guys Graves had picked to help staff up Silent Mountain. Good shooter but always jumpy in the initial stages.
“It’s not zombies.” Graves rebuked. Not out of any sense of certainty but rather stopping them from focusing on a threat that hadn’t even been ID’d yet.
Movement in the corner of his eye had Graves catch sight of the security camera. Old school corner mounted style; oddly its recording light wasn’t red but a deep electric blue. It panned over the lobby taking in the enemy arrived team and seemed to stop on Graves.
The commander stared at it for a second before turning to the two nearest shooters.
Fabio and Kedem.
Fabio wasn’t wearing his gas mask; aviators still affixed to his face. Kedem looked like the typical Direct action type on mission; only distinguishable from the others by the slightest of difference in stance.
“Fabio, Kedem. Go get that tech with the giant shotgun. Find the security room and see if someone is locked inside. Or maybe a recording of what happened.”
Behind him Lima Team cautiously prepared to follow the blood trial through the door. Weapons up as they slowly entered into the hall beyond.
The distant crump and the ensuring shaking beneath his boots signaled Kilo team had breached the loading bay. The lack of gunfire or follow on transmission denoted an equal absence of contact.
Graves just hoped it would stay this way.
But judging by the flood of images every time he glanced at that blood trail. The peace would not last.
@Dyelli Beybi, @Theyra,@PrinceAlexus
—————————-
Field Contract Advisor Samantha Norr
Obsidian Dynamics Research Facility
Utah
Norr had wished she had changed her field attire before leaving the bunker. The gray of the uniform eating the heat of the desert.
She gave a rueful glare at the off didn’t sun before she shifted her hat’s brim down slightly. Coming beside Dr. Mansour as the explosions of the breach faded.
“I know I have little experience in your field.” She stated off adopting the tone the managing handbook described as ‘informative but not patronizing’ “But the reporters’ news van is over there.”
A nod of her head at the van with the shrink wrapped logo of a local news station emblazoned in its side. Untouched except by the dusty wind and now shockwave of the breach. Though except for a subtle rocking it appeared more or less intact.
“Maybe we can look it over while we have the time….before the hooting starts at least.” A look of displeasure on her face that notion.
@Tesserach, @PatientBean