Title: The Pain Series

Author: Sandy

Disclaimer: Any character from any show belong to them, anything else belongs to me (not that I really care since this is just for fun). Assume any other typical disclaimer such as to Joss Whedon etc etc.

Classification: Buffy spin off
Rating: R? Violent but not sexual
Feedback: critical – need to know if its worth continuing with
Email: casualattitude@hotmail.com
Distribution: Anywhere, anyone, anytime, just let me know.
Acknowledgements: only to someone of the awesome writers I've seen on this site and others

Note: first attempt at any kind of fiction so I don't really know where the hell I'm going with this. To those who might think it a tad on the violent side – better than going postal !! Anyone who wants to make a suggestion (with appropriate credit) to develop either the future plotline or to flesh out the back story, which is coming, please email me outside the review board – no need to spill anything for anyone else

Summary: Xander is no longer the Zeppo – but was it worth the cost?

The Pain Series

Chapter 1 : New York

The explosion from the fourth floor shook the entire building, windows exploding outwards as the glass shattered and blew. Jagged shards of glass flew through the air, invisible against the dark sky, raining down on the black clad figures below.

As if time was standing still, nobody moved, struck motionless by the shock of what had just happened.

'What the f-'

Then the glass began to impact, not in small harmless fragments, but in long sharp chunks, crashing through the windscreens, piercing the bonnets and trunks of the cars below. As it started to land on the black clack figures surrounding the vehicles the screams of pain started.

'Aaaaarrrggh-'

'Mediiiiiccccc!!!'

'Get under cover – NOW !'

Blood splattered across the road as injured bodies began to fall, others diving for cover beneath the cars and trucks, no thoughts beyond shelter flashing through their minds.

Almost as quickly as it had begun, the falling glass ceased as the last of the window fragments landed. The sudden silence almost as echoing as the sounds of the explosion itself.

Immediately though, the silence was filled by the sounds of the wounded. The shards had decimated the ground forces, slashing arms, legs, chests and heads. Blood appeared to be pouring along the ground, black as the night sky, smearing all that it touched. The sheer quantity appalled those untouched by the disaster that appeared to have befallen them.

'Holy shit,' muttered Lieutenant Davis, the in-charge on the scene. 'Call back up – Now ! Get the medics, we're gonna need multiple ambulances. Call the hospitals, we're gonna need medics standing by for the wounded.'

'This looks bad lieutenant, really bad,' called his second in command, 'There's no response from 1st Squad, 2nd squad says 5 down, hurt bad. Third squad's still in the building on the second floor. They're holding position, awaiting orders – what do you want them to do sir ?'

'Shit, shit, shit… ok, tell them to hold position; do not advance. Repeat, hold position and do not advance until we figure out what just happened. Tell 2nd squad to secure themselves a safe spot and do not move unless warranted. We don't want to lose any more men.'

'Get the medicpacks out – see to the wounded right now,' screamed the sergeant to those around him as he reached for the radio set to send the instructions to the squads still inside the building.

Immediately the street exploded into action again, those still uninjured racing to those lying on the ground, reaching for their emergency medical packs as they ran. Morley and Conchis among those sprinting forward.

'What the hell happened man? I though this was supposed to be a routine drug bust ?,' shouted Morley as she crouched down beside one of the injured.

At the sight of the man in front of him she felt the urge to vomit almost overcome him. A splinter of glass had pierced the cornea of his eye, tearing it open. Several more fragments had sliced through his nose, lips and neck. The blood poured from his face, but worse, was jetting from the severed artery on the side of his neck.

Ripping her pack open, she grabbed the pressure bandages, tearing the packet open with her bare hands, pulling it out. Pressing the bandage against the gushing artery, Morley applied as much pressure as she could, to no avail. The blood continued to pour out of the bandages, seeping through her fingers, coating them red, the warm sticky feeling repulsing the young SWAT team member.

A gurgle sounded in the throat of the young casualty, the death rattle of a dying man. The flow of blood appeared to suddenly lessen as the pressure supplied by the pumping heart ceased.

'He's gone,' Morley whispered, quickly moving on to the next injured man.

<How could broken windows do this much damage ?> she thought, as she tended to lesser wounds of the next man.

Looking around she realized that the shards scattered across the ground and in the wounds of the injured were not simply glass. Inches thick, some of them, they were all razor sharp, not a single one without a cutting edge to them. Where they had made contact with one of the people on the ground they had sliced deeply, not impeded by the supposedly knife proof vests. They appeared to be covered in a slick, viscous fluid, and as she picked one, she felt in slicing through her skin, the blood oozing out almost immediately.

'Shit'

The sound of people calling out filled the air.

“Leroy's dead'

'Saunders is gone'

'Brenann's dead too – what the fuck is going on?'

'Lieutenant,' called the sergeant. 'Back ups on the way, ambulances are coming round the corner now – thank god we were close to St Mercy's, but there's something else sir….the casualties are…'

'What?,' screamed Lieutenant Davis at him. 'We've still got to deal with what's inside – its only fallen glass, how much damage could it have done ?'

'Sir, it looks like there's 12 down sir, and….they appear to be dead.'

'What ???'

'Sir, it wasn't just glass. It's too thick, too sharp and ..it looks like it was coated in something. It cut through everything, and everyone who was hurt bad has just…..is just….gone.'

The screams of the wounded faded as those critically injured stopped moving, and those only slightly wounded falling silent as their wounds were tended. Only the sounds of the approaching sirens now filling the air as those left standing turned to those in charge, their anger rising as they looked around at their fallen colleagues.

Just as their voices started to rise, another explosion was heard from the building towering over them, then another, and another. The sounds of the gunshots increased in tempo as those outside took cover behind their vehicles.

'What the hell?,' shouted the Lieutenant,' I told them to take cover – what the hell is going on in there?'

'Sir,' called his deputy, 'I'm hearing from the squads inside'

'Put it on speaker.'

'Lieutenant, we're coming under heavy fire inside, we need back up now! Shots on all levels sir, we can't retreat. I think 1st squad's all gone sir, and 2nd squads pinned down,' came from the speakers.

'What do you mean, 1st squads all gone?,' asked Davis, ' What the hell is going on?'

A crash sounded from the third floor, and the huddled troopers flinched reflexively.

'Aaaarrrrggggghhhhhhhh….,' came the screams as a black clad trooper burst through an intact window on the second floor, his limbs flailing as he fell.

THUD

The intact troopers flinched as the body impacted on the windscreen of an arriving SWAT van, the driver instinctively twisting the steering wheel, sending the vehicle careering against a parked car. The front corner of the van crashed against the trunk of the Ford, lifting the front end of the vehicle in the air. As itn continued forward, propelled by its own momentum, it slowly tilted on its side. The screech of the brakes couldn't stop the topple as it crashed on its side, sparks flying as it scraped along the ground.

'Look out,' shouted Conchis as he watched the van careering towards the control center.

The men surrounding the centre's radio and speakers scattered as the approaching van crash into their vehicle, the engine rupturing in a crash of metal on metal.

'The fuel's leaking, everybody out,' screamed Morley.

The rear doors of the van burst open as those inside scrambled to escape, their heads still scrambled from the sudden impact and flipping of their vehicle. As they sprinted clear, still clinging to their weapons, Conchis pulled the driver out through the passenger side door, desperately dragging him clear.

Sparks from engine landing close to the creeping fuel along the ground, the last of the support troopers sprinted clear just as a spark landed on the gasoline.

Time appeared to stand still for a moment, and then suddenly the fuel ignited, racing back along its own trail to the tank. As the flame entered the van, the explosion threw the vehicle yards into the air, flipping it 270° around to land on its roof, the sound of the explosion filling the air as the ammunition inside the vehicle ignited with the heat. Bullets rattled into the air and around the inside of the van, causing those members of the assault team still standing to dive for cover once more.

'Shit,' exclaimed Lieutenant Davis, ' I don't fucking believe whats happening here !'

'Sir, the men inside – what are we going to do ?', asked his sergeant, 'We can't just leave them there, we have to get them out.'

Suddenly, the air was filled once again with flying bullets, this time coming from the 4th floor windows, already blown out by the explosion that had triggered this catastrophe. Men already shell-shocked by what had happened in just a brief few minutes, already prone from the van's eruption, scrambled for cover once more.

'All units, advance on the building,' screamed the Lieutenant. 'We're sitting ducks out here and getting turned to shit. Sergeant, lead 4th and 5th squads up the rear stairs. Morley, sergeant Wilkins is down, you head up 6th and 7th squads and take the front stairs. Maintain radio contact at all times – with this many men involved we need to know where everyone is. Find 3rd squad and try to create a stable position on a lower floor until we get control of this situation. Conchis, take 3 men and get everyone back down the street, we can't afford any more casualties – we're in enough trouble as it is.'

The men poured into the building, as much to get clear of the gunshots overhead as to obey orders and storm the site.

The screams of the men already in the building could be heard over the radio headsets, the cries of pain and anguish sends chills down the spines of the entering troopers.

'They're not human, they're not human, it's the devil, it's the deviiiiil !!!….cluurghh.. Aaaarrgghh, help me, no, no, NOOOOOO!!!…'

The scream suddenly cut off with a wet squelch, only to be replaced by another scream as gunfire rattled from the floors above.

'Sir, what the fuck is going on here ? We're getting slaughtered !!,' shouted Morley through her voice mike as she entered the building,, directing her squads up the stairs.

'I don't know,' replied the Lieutenant, 'but we have no choice – we're getting killed out here, we have to take them out before there's no-one left'.

The last of the troopers ran through the narrow doors of the building's entrance. Their black masks expressionless, no sign of the panicked thoughts running through their minds.

*****

<Fools>

The thought echoed through the mind of the dark clad man crouched, watching from the opposite rooftop.

<They have no idea of what they are dealing with and they're going to get themselves all killed in the process. Can't they see what's going on ? Can't they hear it ?>

An expression of pure pain flashed across the paint-streaked face of the brunette, the scar which slashed across his face lit up by a sudden unexpected flash of lighting. Drops of rain began to fall from the sky without warning, turning the already dismal scene in font of him into a one straight from a war movie.

The street was littered with bodies, those still alive cowering behind any shelter available, those dead left in the middle of the street as their would-be rescuers had had to dive for cover. The flames from the destroyed SWAT van lit up the street, illuminating the show of destruction, the red blood which covered the ground now appearing almost black under the sudden flash.

He watched as ambulances screeched down the street to provide cover for the men and women left lying on the ground, those troopers left behind trying to provide cover fire as the paramedics leapt from their vehicles, frantically loading the bodies onto stretchers and almost throwing them into the back of ambulances, desperate to get clear without getting shot themselves.

The sound of shots inside the building, the explosion of grenades and the screams, both of the wounded and the deeper sounds of their enemies, could still be heard, the sound never ceasing; each one being replaced by another, no two alike.

Without warning, as if he had heard an unseen signal or sign, the dark stranger stood up to his full height, the weapons strewn across his muscled body lit up by the now increasing flashes of lightning. Two wicked short swords hung from reverse scabbards across his back, the silver handles resting by his hip bones. Two Beretta 9mm pistols hung from shoulder holsters, appearing almost an after-thought when compared to the rest of his arsenal.

A row of what appeared to be miniature grenades hung diagonally from his right shoulder to his left hip, small slashes of blue and then white marking each in turn. Around his waist, a utility belt supported rows of magazines of various types, some silver, some brown in appearance and some unrecognizable to even the experienced eye. A garrote wire hung, supported by its wooden handles. Small throwing knives ran from small slots along his right thigh, his left covered by a large cross covered in emblems and writing..

Finally in his left hand hung a large silver and wooden crossbow with laser sighting – no antique as he had used in the past but a clearly hi-tech modern weapon of death. This was clearly not for use on a paper target, it was for serious purposes only. In his right was a cut off, double barreled shotgun, dangling downward without care.

His appearance seemed enough to make people run, even without seeing his dark, forbidding face, only a small silver cross around his neck provided any relief from this appearance of darkness and death. Not more than an inch or two long, only a tiny glimpse could be seen above his skin tight top.

With a deep breath, he lifted the crossbow, sighting across the street to just above the window on the 6th and final floor of the building. Exhaling slowly, he pulled the trigger, sending the silver bolt flying through the air and embedding itself in the concrete wall above the window.

<Time to get to work>

Without a word or a facial expression, he took hold of the line. Gripping it with one gloved hand, he slid towards across the street, no sound other than the friction of glove on steel. The slant of the line from his higher perch, where it was secured to an iron girder, was sufficient to provide him with enough momentum to sent his racing toward the opposite window.

As he approached the point at which line met wall, he released his grip on the line. For one second and then another, he floated through the air, not supported by the line, no safety net below, 6 stories up in the air.

Quickly pulling his knees up to his chest, pushing his head down to his knees, he pulled the trigger on his shotgun, shattering the tinted windows just before he crashed into them.

As he impacted through the window, his body reacted instinctively, rolling sideways even as his feet landed and his momentum carried him forward, the shotgun rising as he did so. Looking around at the empty room, he took a deep breath and then plunged forward into the darkness.

*****

Morley slid upwards, her back to the wall as the squads advanced up the stairs, tension oozing from their pores. The sounds of gunfire and screams echoing in her ears as they reached the 1st floor.

'6th squad head left, check those rooms out, 7th squad stay with me,' she called to the troops around her, pointing in the direction of the closed rooms in front of them.

The team members quickly raced down the corridor, kicking in doors and exploding inside as they went, the tension in their bodies apparent as they entered each room, the occasional shot sounding out as the pressure got too much.

'Clear,' sounded the calls as they finished the sweep of the front rooms on the floor.

'OK, lets go,' she called out. '3rd squad should be on the next floor. Lets move it, double time.'

The crash of boots filled the narrow staircase as they stormed upwards, weapons ready. As they reached the fire entrance to the 2nd floor they paused, the noises from beyond sufficient to cause even the most strong willed to hesitate. Screams of pain filled their ears.

'Ok, on three, 1,2,3, go go go..;' she screamed into her mouthpiece as the troopers poured through the narrow doorway and into the hallway.

'Oh my god…..'

'Jesus help us….'

'Oh fuck…'

The bloody scene in front of them sent terror running through their minds. The bodies of 3rd squad lay strewn down the corridor, shattered bones, entrails handing out of eviscerated stomachs and the blood, so much blood. Two headless bodies lay half way down the hallway, no sign of the heads to which they should have been attached. The faces of those still attached appeared to hold expressions of sheer terror in their lifeless eyes. Despite the carnage however, there was no sign of what had done this.

Even as their eyes attempted to process what they were seeing, suddenly from the end of the corridor, at the entrance to the rear stairwell came the sound of screams of pain and terror.

'Oh shit, that's Gray's team – 4th and 5th squad,' called out the foremost member of their group.

'Lets go,' screamed Morley, driving her team forward. 'We have to help them and regroup.'

As they stormed along the corridor, members of the team rapidly sweeping the rooms as they passed, they reached the stairway doors. Crashing through them, triggers three-quarter depressed, their minds froze.

'This can't be, this can't be,' several of the squad were muttering.

What lay in front of their eyes was even worse than what they had just witnessed. Every member of the two 8 man teams hung from the stairways in front of them, gutted and stripped, their heads missing.

'How can this be?,' muttered Morley, 'We were only a few minutes behind them while securing the 1st floor. How could this happen so quickly?'

Suddenly two explosions were heard, one coming from just below them on the stairway, one coming from the stairway they had just come up at the front of the building. Flames started to lick upwards with alarming speed.

'Lieutenant,' Morley called into her mouthpiece, '3rd, 4th and 5th squad have been …… massacred, they all appear to be dead. The stairways are on fire – unless you can get fire crews here fast, it looks like we're going to have to keep heading upwards.'

'All dead, are you sure?'

'Yes sir.'

'Ok. Morley, you now have full command of all troopers left in the building, and just one objective – get as many out alive as possible. Forget about the hostiles, if we have to we'll blow the building up, just get them all out alive – whatever it takes. We can't get any more back up in there. The helicopters can't fly in this storm so we can't get any troops on the roof, and the outside fire exits are trashed.

'Acknowledged sir'

'Good luck Morley'

'I think we're going to need all the luck we can get..'

'Ok guys, you've all seen the situation. We can't go back down the stairs, the fires blocking the way, they can't get more men inside to help us out. We're going to go straight for the 4th floor and see if we can recover any of 2nd squad that are still alive and then try to make it to the roof. From there we'll see what we can do. Stick together and watch each others backs.'

'What the fuck are we dealing with here Morley? What the fuck is going on?,' one of 6th squad almost screamed at her, the panic in his voice warning of a man at breaking point. He clearly wasn't alone in this feeling, most of the squads seemed close to snapping and Morley herself was rapidly reaching that point herself.

'I don't know, but at this point it doesn't really matter now does it? Now lets move !!'

*****

The weapon strewn man rushed into the darkness of the 6th floor, his mind racing as he went. Suddenly a large figure rose up in front of him.

Instantly, faster than thought, faster than instinct, his shotgun rose and fired, exploding into the face of the being in front of him. As the trigger depressed, his left hand reached behind him and drew one of the two swords from its sheath.

The shotgun's explosive bullets slapped into the figure, blowing large holes in it.

To no effect.

The creature, and by now it was apparent that this was no human, laughed in his face. Worse than any demonic laugh from a film script, worse than any deep throated cry from a beast, the sound came out as a warm chuckle. The sound could have come from anybody, reverberating around the room in a rich, deep sound.

'You think your bullets can hurt me human? I am not of this world, I am not of your species, I am so far beyond your species that you can't even comprehend it, and we will kill you all.'

The contrast between the sheer pleasantness of the laughter and voice and the visage of the creature rising up could not have been greater. It gray flesh, green slitted eyes and spikes jutting along the borders of its eyes would have terrified any normal person, let alone the clawed, muscled, and spiked form of the rest of its armored body.

No one who saw the weapon covered figure of the man standing at this moment would have claimed he looked like a normal person.

Without a word, without responding to the creature with anything expect his actions, he slashed it across the face with his sword. Dropping the shotgun, he quickly reached for one of the throwing knives strapped across his thigh.

As the beast lashed forward with alarming speed, he span on his left foot, the short knife in his right hand slashing across the wrist of the beast, the longer blade in his left sliding deep beneath what passed for a rib cage and deep into its body.

<You may not be of this world, but a blessed blade to your keeza will still put you down, you piece of shit> he thought to himself.

<One down and 5 to go>

As he raced down the corridor towards the stairwell, he plucked a grenade from his chest and pulling out the pin, flung it back to the figure still lying on the hall floor. As he crashed through the doorway, the grenade detonated, not with a bang but with a strange splooshing noise.

As the holy water landed on the creature's exposed internal organs, the reaction appeared as if acid had been poured onto the wounds. The hiss of flesh disintegrating filled the air, the stench of melting body parts wafting outwards as the body fell apart. As the creature's torso crumbled into dust, a strange green glow filled the air, then with a SNAP!! The corpse disappeared, leaving only the stench and a brief charred outline where the body had fallen.

The green glow flashed brightly through the air, lighting the darkness for a brief moments, in which could be seen the pile of weapons, drugs and assorted criminal activities – the reason for the police raid in the first place.

*****

The remainder of the assault team raced upwards, bypassing the 3rd floor, praying that whatever had decimated their friends and colleagues was not waiting in ambush. As they passed the entrance to the stairwell, Morley quickly threw an assault grenade through the glass, hoping that if anything was hiding in the darkness there, that the grenade would be enough to handle it.

From what else had happened that evening, she kind of doubted it.

'You and you, take the rear, keep an eye out for anything coming up the stairs, but do not, repeat, do not lose contact with the rest of the group. Do not engage unless attacked, we still don't know what the fuck is going on and we need to stick together,' Morley ordered the rearmost pair of the advancing group, thinking that it would make little difference to whatever would happen, barking orders on reflex now, knowing training could not have prepared them or herself for what was going on.

As they reached the 4th floor, the rest of the squad paused, awaiting the decision as to whether to continue upwards or to enter yet another floor.

'2nd squad, is anyone still there? Repeat, this is Morley, is anyone still alive on 4th floor?,' she muttered into her voice piece.

No answer.

'Ok, we're going to keep moving, there's no response for 2nd squad. 1st, 3rd, 4th and 5th are already down. We've lost too many tonight, lets concentrate on keeping moving and getting out of he….,' Morleys orders were cut off by the sounds of screams coming from beyond the doorway.

'Help me, oh please god help me, don't let them get to me, don't…..'

'Oh god, that's Steve Reynolds,' muttered one of the troopers, 'What the fuck could cause him to sound like that ? That bastard's not afraid of the devil himself.'

'Fuck this Morley, lets just get out of here now. Leave them, they're already dead,' screamed another trooper, several more appearing to agree with him.

'NO !! We are not going to leave them behind. Spread approach, Bullock, Richards, Kinley and Mutch, break left when we go through the door. Anderson, Simard, Travers and Haylis, break right. Smith and Jonas back up our rear, the rest of you stick with me, we'll take the middle,' she ordered. 'On three, 1, 2, 3, go go go…'

Smashing the door entirely off its hinges with two blasts from their shotguns, the troopers raced inside, breaking left and right as they went, their backs hitting the wall as fast as they could. Professionalism replaced fear, as their adrenalin rush was substituted with well drilled procedures.

As Morley barreled through the doorway, she could feel her jaw dropping. Instead of the narrow hallway with multiple doorways leading into smaller rooms, the entire floor appeared to one giant room, nothing but open space from floor to ceiling, back to front.

As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she realized that the openness wasn't entirely correct. The room was scattered with upturned furniture, tables, chairs, sofas. Glass appeared to be strewn across the floor, the remains of what looked like glass tabletops.

One corner of the room appeared to have been turned into a makeshift barricade, tables piled up haphazardly, broken plastic and steel chairs intermingled with them. It didn't look like much, and given the large holes in it, the poor appearance seemed to be an accurate reflection if its effectiveness.

'Anyone there?,' she called out, 'Is anyone there? Bullock, Richards, check it out, their radios might be down.'

As the two troopers reached the edge of the makeshift barricade, the sound of their regulation boots echoing on the wooden floor, they hesitated. 'Anyone there?,' one called.

'Shit,' the other muttered as he poked his head over the top of the barricade, 'They're all dead, lets just go…'

His words were cut off as his head exploded, the bullets crashing into his brainstem, tearing his face apart. His lifeless body held its upright position for an eternity before the nerve connection from the brain ceased and the knees crumpled. The body seemed to fold in on itself as it crashed to the ground, blood splattered all around.

Richards reacted on instinct, his face coated with the brains of his erstwhile partner, his helmet splattered with the blood and detritus that had flown through the air when the bullets had impacted. He rolled away even as he pumped shot after shot through the tables in front of him.

The rest of the squad began to pour fire into the barricade even as the shouts from within the makeshift fortress cried out -

'Stop, stop, it's us, it's Delares and Sams…'

'Cease fire,' screamed Morley desperately to the firing troopers, 'its 3rd squad, cease fire goddamnit !!'

The shots ceased almost as suddenly as they had begun, the troopers adrenalin charged bodies reacting to the order as if controlled by wire, their guns raising to the ceiling as they spun around.

'What the fuck is going on ?,' shouted Morley to the two troopers cowering behind the barricade, 'where's the rest of your squad?'

'They're dead, they're all dead. Those……things…….took them. They tore them apart and they'll be coming for us any minute. We built the barricade, poured hundreds of rounds into them, but it didn't stop them, IT DIDN'T STOP THEM!!!,' Delares voice sounded hysterically through the air, as his mind began to snap.

'Get out here now !,' ordered Morley, 'Both of you !!'

Delares scrambled over the tables, his body covered in blood splatters, his eyes crazed and wide open, sanity cleared taking a holiday. His helmet was missing, one ear half torn off, and the only sign of normalcy was the manner in which he was handling his weapon, pointed to the ceiling, away from the rest of the squad.

'Sams, get out here now,' ordered Morley.

'No good sir, I think he's dead,' replied Richards, eyeing the bullet ridden corpse lying over a broken chair by the wall. 'I think we killed him when we opened fire…'

'Fuck,' muttered Morley, 'Ok, that leaves the 7 of us, plus Delares. We have to assume that everyone else is already dead. Delares, DELARES – what the hell happened here, what the hell is going on? Who killed everyone? Why are there no bodies of the guys who attacked you?'

'Who? Guys? They weren't guys….they weren't even human…they killed them all. They just tore us apart, the bullets didn't stop them, they just kept on coming, they tore us apart !! They had guns and grenades but it didn't look like they even needed them. They blew out the window themselves, took out 1st squad in one go and then started on us. We lost radio contact at the start, haven't heard from 3rd squad for 15 minutes, couldn't get hold of the Lieutenant……oh god, they're all dead!!'

'What do mean they're not even human Delares, get a grip of yourself!! Who did this to us? Where are they?,' replied Morley, desperately trying maintain control of herself and the others.

'I mean they weren't HUMAN !!! They're grey, got these fucked up eyes and spikes all over them and you can't stop them, you can't stop them, we have to get out of there, OH FUCK here they come….'

The squad whirled at these words, guns dropping from the ceiling, rising from the floor as they tried to make out anything through the murkiness. Three figures appeared out of the gloom, tall, too tall to be real.

The creatures weapons opened fire, taking out 3 of the squad in the first second, the rest of the team diving for cover, firing as they went, blasting away at the advancing figures. Their bullets struck home, the hundreds of hours on the practice ranges taking effect as they riddled the first figure, sending it flying backwards and the other two to take cover.

The room was silent for a moment, as the troopers looked at each other.

'See – bullets do kill the..,' the shouts of Travers cut short as the bullet ridden figure began to rise again.

'Oh fuc-,' screamed Anderson as the creature rose up in front of him. His screams were ended as a wickedly clawed hand slashed out, tearing his throat open in an instant. A second slash tore the head clean from his shoulders, the body toppling to the ground immediately as the figure grasped the head and flung it back across the room.

'Retreat,' screamed Morley, 'Get back out the door – now !!'

As the squad backed up, preparing to flee to the stairway, the sound of gunfire echoed behind them. A small explosion could be heard, and the bodies of the 4 troopers covering the stairwell flew threw the air. Or at least most of the bodies.

'Oh fuck – we're trapped…'

One of the bodies stirred, his shattered frame rising to his feet.

'Morley, the stairwells gone – these..things..came down from the 5th floor. They just blew us apart..'

'Take cover behind the barricade,' screamed Morley, 'we need to get some cover, no matter how little.'

The squad scrambled behind the inadequate shelter that Delares had just come from.

'Full fire – try and keep those things back. Even if we can't kill them, we have to drive them back, we need to buy some time until we get help!!'

The room filled with sounds of bullets and grenades as the 3 members of the squads and herself let fly with all the weapons at their disposal. The creatures attacking them appeared to ignore them, retreating backwards slowly, hissing to themselves as they went, throwing the severed head of Anderson between them like a football.

*****

The sounds of gunfire from the 4th floor below could be heard clearly even on the 6th floor as he crashed through door to the stairway. The sound of his boots reverberated down the well as he sprinted down, taking three steps at a time, the weapons in his hands held loosely as he ran.

Reaching the entrance to the 5th floor he hesitated. The sounds of the shots and screams below calling him down, but his instincts calling him through the door. Peering over the banister, he could see the signs of explosion, the blood splattered across the stairs below. Further down he could see the bodies of what to the police assault team were 4th and 5th squads, hanging lifeless from the railings, their headless bodies covered in the blood still dripping from their necks.

His sense kicked into overdrive, as he sensed their presence behind the door to his side.

<Two here. Better take them out now before I go down>

Cracking the door open, he peered inside, dropping to his knees to reduce the chance of a clear shot at him. Seeing nothing but an open space, he flew inside, rolling again to his left, weapons still at the ready.

Suddenly, the gloom was lit by the flickering of neon tubes, their even glow interrupted by the erratic power, causing the room to be lit like a nightclub, the flashing lights first illuminating and then sending the room back into darkness.

<Hell, its just like that scene from Blade…lights, demons, death….Only difference is that I'm not Wesley Snipes and these aren't vampires…>

The two beasts at the far side of the room rose as he entered, the video game behind still flickering on the tv screen.

'Not again! Can't we finish one match in peace for Bezan's sake!,' said one of the figures, again surprisingly human in sound.

The brunette stood up, his blades extended. The flickering lights lit up the smooth surface of the sword, showing the strange words etched across both faces. He stretched into a martial stance, left leg extended, right leg bent. His left arm still held the sword, his right hand holding a throwing knife ready.

'Oh, so this human wants to play games then,' exclaimed the second monster, 'well I guess we can accommodate that, he can't be any worse than the rest of these 'elite' units!'

The two demonic figures stood up, reaching for their own blades, hidden under the cushions of the couch on which they had been relaxing. One held a brutal looking saber sword, black as night, and curved like a scimitar, the second holding a 4 foot long straight edged sword straight from a Robin Hood movie but far more menacing.

Kicking the table that stood between them and the motionless figure, still standing by the entrance, across the room they advanced. As the flying table struck the wall, it disintegrated, shards of wood flying in all directions, smashing bottles and glasses, sending pieces of glass across the floor.

The two figures strode across the room, separating as they approaching, splitting to the left and right of the still figure.

As they approached, one leapt forward, his broadsword slashing downwards with an overhead strike, while the second darted forward, his scimitar slashing sideways, aiming for a gut stroke.

Just as the swords were about to cleave the still figure into pieces, he moved. Barely shifting position, just a step backwards and to one side, and the two blades swished past his body, missing by inches. His face expressionless, his stance still unchanged, he stood there, waiting.

The two demons glanced at each other.

'What are you, boy?,' said one. 'Any normal human would be screaming now, as those below are. And no human could avoid those blows. Where are you from ?'

There was no response from the still figure, not a sign that he had heard them. Only a shift in stance as he smoothly slid the blades through the air in a weaving motion, the two knifes slicing the air as they moved.

At once they attacked in unison, one slicing at his legs, the other at his upper body, their weapons cutting sideways through the air. The speed of the attack was breathtaking, the sharpness of the swords edges appearing to slice through the atoms of the air itself.

It seemed that nothing could respond fast enough to survive the sudden assault, but just as quickly, the still figure reacted. His body spun in the air till it was parallel to the ground, his body separating the two slashing blades. One whipped past between his body and the ground, the other flashing in front of his face, millimeters from his nose.

As the blades flashed by, his body landed on the ground, still spinning as it made contact with the smooth surface. His own blades flashed upwards, the longer sword knocking the broadsword away, the shorter throwing knife driven into the foot of the second demon.

He continued his spin, turning it into a sideways roll, using his shoulders to flip himself upwards and away from the oncoming danger. Sprinting forward 2 paces, he then used his continuing momentum to somersault through the air sending him over a nearby couch to land 2 meters away from his opponents.

The two demonic creatures continued the spin of their blades, using the weight of their strokes to turn their own bodies around to face him.

'What the ….,' they growled, their voices moving from the soft melodic human tones to a much more bitter, gritty tone.

'He stabbed my foot ! That bastard stabbed my foot !,' the one with the scimitar roared.

'So ?,' growled the second, 'It's only a knife !'

A sly grin tweaked at the corners of the man's face, the first expression since this all began, the lop-sided smirk pulling at the scarred tissue on his face.

'Aaarrggghhhh..,' roared the first demon. 'It burns…it fucking burns….!!'

Pulling the knife from his foot, it looked in disbelief as it's foot hissed, the hole created by the blade being driven into the wood below widening for a few seconds, as if acid had been poured in. Then as the pain struck, it screamed in anger and disbelief at what had just happened.

'You're just a human ! How did you…'

Before he could complete the sentence, two more knives flashed through the air, ripped from their thigh straps by the mans gloved hands. As they flashed through the air, the demon had no time to react, nor even to think. Only a demonic roar sounded as the knives made contact.

They imbedded themselves in each of the creature's two slit eyes, burying themselves inches deep to the small hilt. Immediately, the eyeballs began to hiss and burn. Without another sound, the beast's knees folded beneath him, sending the huge frame crashing to the ground with a loud thud.

The first demon, still holding his broadsword in both clawed hands, roared as it charged, swinging its heavy blade in a figure of eight, trying to use its sheer size to intimate as is swung.

The man waited until less than a meter away, and then swung his own sword in reaction, even as his right hand unsheathed the second blade from his back. The impact of weapon on weapon filled the air, the crash of the blades together ringing out across the room.

The blur of the three swords clouded the air, the power of the demon enabling it to move it's heavy sword faster than any human could hope to do. The flickering lights overhead made the scene appear straight from the pages of a comic book, reflecting off the blades as they moved, sending glittering reflections across the visages of both combatants.

But as fast as the demon's broadsword moved, as quickly as it swung, sliced and hacked at its opponent, the two shorter swords wielded by the man were even faster. Deflecting the broadsword left, right, up and down, never letting it develop a rhythm or get even close to the body it was trying to destroy, the first sword appeared enough on its own to protect its bearer. But protection was not the intent – destruction was.

The second sword, held loosely from his left hand, as yet unused in this fight, suddenly struck forward, interrupting the pattern of its opponent. Slicing past its outer armored surface, the blade pierced its torso, driving deeply inside. Even as the demon screamed in pain, his first blade ripped the broadsword from his foe's grasp, the shock of his sword entering the body enough to weaken the beast's grasp on his weapon.

Releasing the hilt of the sword buried in his opposites body, he whipped around in a circle, his second blade now gripped tightly in both hands as he swung. The sword's smooth edge struck the demon as its head met its shoulders, slicing deep inside, sawing through cartilage and bone.

Continuing his swing, using his momentum and strength, he forced the blade completely through the beast's neck, severing the head in the process, sending it flying across the room, impacting with a sickening thud against the nearest wall, the green viscous blood splattering widely.

His face now coated with the demonic blood, he turned to the first demon, lying motionless on the ground, the two knives still sticking out of the open lidless eyes. Reaching down he pulled them out, wiping the sticky fluid off the edges using a nearby towel.

Even as he did so, he pulled another of the blue striped grenades from the row slung across his chest. Without waiting to see if the demon reacted to the removal of the hissing blades, he dropped the grenade into the demon's mouth, the pin spinning through the air in the process. Striding back to the door, the muffled explosion from the miniature charge was immediately overwhelmed by the sound of the flesh melting as the blessed water impacted on its demonic body.

As he reached the door, he was suddenly driven back by a wall of flame. Whatever was going on below appeared to have widened in scope, the stairways now appearing impassible.

Without any hesitation, he strode to the middle of the room, clearing a circle in the middle of the floor, throwing tables and chairs out of the way as he did so until a large space was created, free of obstruction.

Pulling a spiked device from his belt, he drove it through a crack in the floor until it had pierced all the way through to the other side. Sliding a narrow optic tube down through the narrow hole running through the spike, he fixed the tiny monitor to its end, creating a miniature view of the scene in the room below.

And what he saw did not impress him..

*****

Morley and the three remaining assault team members crouched down behind the feeble pile of furniture, desperately trying not to lose their grip on sanity completely.

'What the fuck is going on? What are those things? Oh god, we're all gonna die,' muttered one of them, expressing the thoughts of all those left alive.

'If they come again, let loose with everything you've got! Don't let one of those things get its hands on you!,' called Morley desperately as the creatures began to approach.

Blasts from their shotguns flew through the air, perforating anything in their path, riddling furniture with holes, sending smaller items flying through the air, but to no avail. The creatures continued to advance, no longer carrying weapons, charging forward with deep throated roars.

Even as they reached the frantically firing troopers the ceiling exploded behind them, sending plaster and tiling smashing around the room. Their forward motion ceased as they spun around to face what had just occurred.

The 4 troopers watched in disbelief as the dark clad figure dropped through the jagged hole in the ceiling to land on a still intact table beneath him. His black streaked face and hair now splattered with the blood and brains of the demons killed in the room above, his half grin twisting the scar once more, he landed on the table. Resting on right knee and left hand, the other extended outwards pointing towards the remaining three demons, he appeared as vision from a nightmare – and not just to the humans in the room.

His swords both sheathed behind him, no weapons in his hands, he still appeared capable of untold destruction. His eyes appeared hidden behind a permanent shadow, no indication of emotion on his face beyond the twisted half grin – and that could mean anything.

'Who the hell is that?,' whispered Morley, trying not to draw attention back to themselves.

'What the hell is that more like it….?,' murmured Travers to himself.

For a moment the room stood still, every single being waiting for another to make the first move…and then suddenly the room erupted into violence once more.

Two of the demons raced towards the man crouching on the table, the third and last of them spinning around once more to face the terrified troopers cowering behind the barricade.

As the two demons rushed forward, their arms extended, jagged claws extending for inches beyond the end of what might be called their fingers, they roared; not a human sound at all this time, merely a pure demonic expression of rage and fury. The speed they moved at was breathtaking in its smoothness, but just as they reached the figure resting on the tabletop he moved.

Whipping both swords out from the sheaths on his back at the same time, he flung himself backwards, away from the wicked claws as they impacted on the table, shredding its surface and tracing through where his head was only moments before.

Continuing their forward motion, they smashed the table aside, shredding it in the process as they charged towards the now armed figure waiting beyond.

The troopers reacted in shock as the final demon charged toward them, firing as rapidly as their weapons could do so at the oncoming figure as it approached once more. Bullets filled the air again as they fired at the creature, desperately trying to fend it off for a few seconds or minutes longer. As the bullets impacted, they realized they were having no effect, not even to put it down as they had done one of its partners just minutes before. The beast seemed larger and even more terrifying if that was possible than those which it accompanied, silver streaks slashing across its face, making it appear somehow older than the others, and even more powerful.

As it reached the frantic group huddled behind the tables and chairs, it snarled as its hands reached out, grasping Delares and Haylis by the hair and lifting them away and over the barricade.

Morley and Travers ceased fire for a moment, trying to avoid hitting their partners in carnage, until the demon suddenly extended its jawline and, with jagged teeth, ripped out the throat of Delares, spewing blood across their faces, and spitting out the muscle and fat onto the floor.

'Oh shhhiiitttttt….,' they screamed, opening fire once more, blowing holes in Haylis in the process, beyond caring or rational though, no instinct beyond anything related to survival, if only for moments.

The demon threw the now dead bodies of the two troopers aside, not watching as they sailed 30 feet across the room, one crashing through a still intact glass cabinet, the bullet ridden body of Haylis flying out of one of the blown out windows to plummet to the ground outside, to the renewed horror of those awaiting the outcome of the battle. None dared approach the body, with all cowering at the ends of the street, not willing to risk their own lives for a clearly dead figure.

The demon turned once more to the last two troopers, the only two alive from the hordes that had poured into the building that evening. Extending its arms outwards to their full extent, it bared its teeth as it approached.

With oddly calm clicks, the weapons of Morley and Travers ran empty, the last of their already shared ammunition expended to no effect. The two could do nothing but await their fates as the creature paced towards them.

A sudden screech of pain and anger stopped its forward advance. Not from the demon itself but from behind him where the battle continued. Turning, it observed the scene in disbelief.

The two demons had continued their advance towards the unexpected figure, growling as they came. Stooping down, they had picked up two guns as they passed them, immediately aiming and firing, without pausing in their advance.

<Demons using guns – surely a breach of the rules> thought the man, even as he dived for cover behind a steel backed cabinet, allowing the rounds to bounce off randomly, sending sparks flying through the air. Whipping his pistols from their shoulder holsters, and quickly aiming around the side of the cabinet, he returned fire, not expecting the bullets to have any real impact.

Fortune had favored him. Even as one weapon ran out of ammunition, a bullet from his 9mm Berrettas struck the barrel of the second, twisting it out of shape and rending it useless.

The entire gun wielding episode having only lasted a few seconds, the demons had continued, immediately responding by grasping two machetes imbedded in the back of a chair, swinging them in lazy circles as they came towards him.

Exploding out from behind the cabinet, waving his re-taken swords as he came, the man raced towards them, still not making a sound. As he reached them, their blades collided, his twin silver blades clashing against the metallic machetes wielded by the demons.

The blades crashed against each other repeatedly, swinging in circles, deflecting the attempts at stabbing motions, sweeping aside the strokes aimed at slashing him open, his footwork a blur as he stepped forwards and backwards, left and right as his body slid away from the wild lunges of his opponents. Then, just as it looked as if he was going to be forced backwards, the scene changed.

He dived beneath the slice of one of the opponents, his left hand extending upwards as he went, burying the blade to the hilt upwards into the other demon, the sword cutting up through its groin and deep into its body. Deflecting the downward stroke of the wounded demon with his other sword, he shot to his feet and punched the demon in the face.

At which point his gloves came into effect.

Unnoticed until this point, each finger on the glove bore wicked spikes in the shape of a cross, the blessed surface coated with a fast acting acid to increase its effectiveness. As the demon recoiled, its face burning, its belly impaled in agony, he whipped the second sword around and once more beheaded a demon. This time the blade was not aimed at the muscled neck of his foe, but instead sliced straight through the middle of his face, an action similar to slicing the top of a hard-boiled egg. Impacting in the middle of the demon's nose slit, the sword sliced through as if cutting through butter. In an instant, the demon was down, blood and brains once more splattering all around.

The silver marked demon turned its back on the two remaining troopers, ignoring them as it paced towards the battle in front of it. Even as he did so, the remaining demon attempted to engage the human figure, slicing its machete through the air towards his head with all the power it could muster with its supernatural strength.

As the blade cut through where the head of the man was only moments before, the demon didn't even have time to realize that its particular fight was now over. As the man ducked beneath the blade, his legs outspread in a splits position, he had already withdrawn his first blade from the below of the now decapitated demon, leaving him with a sword in each hand once more.

Even as his legs extended to their full extent, the blades began their swinging motion. As the machete was passing overhead, each blade was slicing through a leg of the creature standing in front of him. As the blades passed through, the legs of the demon simply collapsed, sending it crashing to the ground, screaming in agony.

Continuing the sweeping motion of his swords, his legs still extended along the ground, he turned the direction of the blades from parallel to the ground to perpendicular, striking straight upwards.

As what had happened struck the demon, as it tumbled to the ground in the absence of its legs, just as quickly its arms were severed at the shoulders, the perpendicular strikes of the low down man impacting next to each shoulder, ripping the limbs from the torso with a spray of blood.

Still alive, the second to last demon screamed in agony before the human now standing in front of him. Without any change in his expression, the man reached down and picked up the demon's machete, holding both of his own swords in his left hand. Cleaving downwards with all his strength, he buried the blade deep into the brain of the creature before him, finally ceasing the annoying screams. Ripping yet another small blue striped grenade from his place, he pulled out the pin and buried it deep in the head of the demon, smashing his fist up to the wrist in the gray brain matter.

As he took two steps away from the body, the grenade denoted with another muffled explosion, once again starting the now familiar process of melting the body on which and in which the fluids were landing.

The room appeared to shrink, only the silver faced demon and the black-streaked man having any presence at all. Morley and Travis dared not make a sound, despite the questions running through their minds, not wanting to draw the demon's attention back to themselves nor to disturb the black clad figure who appeared to be the only creature capable of combating the monsters that had torn their friends and workmates apart like confetti.

As the demon approached the motionless but alert figure standing in the middle of the room, his eyes squinted, trying to make out the face of the figure in front of him through the dust and gloom of the battle just ending.

The fire coming from both stairwells was now the only illumination in the room, the electric power long destroyed in the battle and explosions. The flickering flames lit up the face of the man in front of him, for a moment bringing his features into sharp relief.

Brunette eyes, short dark hair cropped close to his eyes, paint streaked skin, all faded into the background as the demon's eyes fixed upon the narrow scar. It ran across this face, starting above his right eye near the hairline, cutting across the outer edge of his eye and then curving back in to cease at the edge of his lower lip. Not a wide scar, it could almost fade into nothing under normal conditions, but under the stress and situation it was present in, it appeared in sharp relief to the rest of his features, standing out against the rest.

'You !!,' the demon snarled. 'You look like …… but you can't be him! They had him, and no-one escapes them! That scar….he had that scar before they….'

Without a word, without giving any acknowledgment to the words growled at him, the man reacted instantly. Pulling a throwing knife from his thigh with one quick smooth motion, he sent it flying towards the oncoming demon, the creature barely having enough time to deflect the knife before another was sent hurtling towards it.

A strange expression flashed across the face of the demon as it slapped aside the second knife and faced the man before him, responding to the attack with a vicious roar. With a ripping sound, spikes extended through its forearms, and its limbs appeared to grow even longer than before. Twin horns burst from its forehead, jutting outwards by several inches, and curling upwards slightly, away from its eyes. The spikes already extending out around its eyes lengthened and changing color, turning from a solid gray to a strange glowing shade of red. Its eyes also sifted color, transforming from the earlier green tint to flashing silver, matching the streaks which ran across it forehead and face.

Morley and Travers crept from behind the barricade, watching the scene in disbelief as the two combatants circled each other slowly. The entire room was destroyed, bodies, glass, and furniture strewn from end to end, bullet holes riddling everything in sight. The heat from the fire on the stairway behind them was driving them further in against their will, forcing them to get closer to the two in the center of the room. The flames at the far side of the long room were already licking inside, chairs already ablaze.

'If something doesn't happen quickly, we might survive only to get burnt to death anyway,' whispered Travers out of the side of his mouth.

'I'm aware of that, but what the hell else can we do – all we can do is wait,' replied Parker, studying the two figures in front of her.

The silver faced beast knelt down slowly, picking up the two machetes left over from the death of its fellow demons, swirling them slowly as it circled around the calm man facing him with twin blades.

With no warning whatsoever, the two charged at each other, blades whirling like a dervish, in a blur of metal. As the weapons came together and sparks flew, the beasts leg swung towards the man in a vicious round-house kick to the ribs, the jagged edges of his lower limbs making the maneuver even more dangerous. The man spun on his left heel, swinging his arm around to deflect the kick, not trying to block the leg it directly, knowing it would just shatter any weapon or body part in its path. His body shifted out of the path of the heavy leg, his arm forcing it to continue the spin, sending the demon off balance as the momentum of the kick carried it around.

The twin machetes continued their rapid swirling motion, fended off now by only the single blade and the motion of the man's body, while his other arm was occupied fending off the side kick. As the spin of the demons body continued, the action of the blades faltered, as they twisted away from their target.

Continuing his own spin, the man whipped out with his own right boot, crashing the sole against the side of the demon's kneecap, the gristly snap of the bone drowning out the sound of the fires for a moment.

The demon reacted by snapping his hand around in a brutal backfist too fast to avoid, crashing against the shoulder of the man to his side, sending him spinning through the air.

Showing emotion for the first time that evening, the man winced in pain as the spikes protruding from the demons fist crashed against his body armour, slicing open the first layer and wickedly bruising the flesh beneath. Red blood splattered through the air, splashing across his face, smearing with the green demonic blood already mixed with the face paint.

To Morley the effect was to make him look like a multi-colored face-painted child – if it wasn't for the dead expression in his eyes. No hint of emotion, of feeling, was evident in those dead pools. The brown globes looked as if they might be attractive under other conditions, on another man, but on this one they were wasted – any sentiment in them missing, torn out by ….what ? what could have caused such……

Her thoughts were interrupted by the next clash of weapons, the blades moving almost too fast for her eyes to follow. Only the injuries to the two fighters helped her distinguish what was going on, slowing them down slightly, just enough for the two SWAT team members to follow the fight.

Arms, knives, legs flailed through the air, every move designed to kill or incapacitate the other. The demon trying to use its superior strength and reach put all its efforts into each stroke, aiming to kill with each move, the man using his superior speed and skill to ghost his way out of the path of each blow.

The flurry of contact of blade on blade, body parts on body parts filled the room, neither combatant managing to make the fatal blow. Suddenly the two parted, a meter or two apart, neither moving.

The demon growled, its features twisting as it displayed its teeth to its enemy, the muscles in its arms pulsating and twitching, favoring its uninjured leg.

The man seemed to shrink inside himself slightly, his body gradually acquiring an appearance of shadow. His brown eyes appeared to sink into his head slightly as the shadows grew, and then suddenly they seemed to flash with a golden glow, just for a moment.

If Morley hadn't been watching his face closely, it would have gone unnoticed, but the flash of gold sent a shiver down her spine, even as the two fighters exploded back into action.

But this time it was different.

The demon moved in the same way, his speed beyond any normal person, his weapons and feet flying through the air almost as fast as her eyes could make out, slicing, slashing, and tearing.

As fast as the demon moved though, the man was faster, much faster. He moved as if the demon was acting in slow motion, like a scene from that old movie The Matrix. His arms blurred as he fended off the blows, his swords like two twin dervishes as they swirled around his body.

As quickly as the flurry of action has begun, it ended. Deflecting one slash of the machete, the man darted inward, burying both blades together, releasing the handles as he did so.

His arms continued their motions, deflecting the beasts wild swings even as the body of the creature shuddered. Dropping to his knees, he pulled two of the short blades from the slits on his thighs and thrust them deeply into the demons legs, slashing the tendons as they went in.

As the demon dropped to its knees, he span around it until he was standing facing the back of its head. Whipping the garrote from his belt, he twisted it around the demons neck until it encircled it, clutching the wooden handles at each end.

The demon screamed in agony once more and then spoke, its voice gravelly with blood, 'even if you are him, you won't last. They'll come for you again, you won't beat us all….'

The man twisted his hands suddenly, the magically enhanced wire cutting straight through the beast's neck, slicing through the bone, tendons and muscle even faster than his swords had severed other heads earlier.

As the headless corpse slowly slid forward and fell to the ground, Morley decided she had to move. Stepping forward, she was about to place her hand on the man's shoulders when a boot suddenly thrust backwards, straight into her upper body, breaking 4 ribs in an instant.

The power of the blow sent her flying backwards, crashing into the body of Travers, only his arms keeping her from crashing to the ground, as she stumbled back. Even as she did so the man spun, his hands pulling the Berettas from their shoulder holsters as part of the motion.

Before she could speak, before she could even blink, the barrels of the twin pistols were pressed against her eyeballs. The center of those tubes became her whole world, everything else immaterial, irrelevant. Afraid to move, to say a word, she could only focus up the tubes, seeing only her own death at the hands and guns of this man.

To have survived this evening only to die like this? Suddenly she spoke.

'Don't kill us, please,' she tried to sound authoritative, but knew she was pleading. 'I don't know who you are but don't kill us. We're the good guys…'

Still without speaking the man froze, the triggers already half-pulled, his eyes flickering from Morley to Travers and back again, before suddenly withdrawing the guns and re-holstering them.

Pulling back slightly he looked around at the bodies of those lying on the floor, human and demon alike, body parts scattered around, in some cased mixed together. A pile of human bodies lay in one corner of the room, their headless corpses piled on top of each other. A second, smaller pile of parts lay in the opposite corner.

Travers fought back the urge to vomit as he realized what those parts were – the heads of 3rd squad, hung decapitated from the stairwell they come up what seemed like hours earlier but was only a few minutes.

The flames coming from the stairwells were spreading into the room at each end, tables and chairs catching alight. It was clear that it would be only minutes before the entire room was engulfed in flames as they spread through the building.

The man pointed to a ladder lying on the ground by the side of the wall, looking up through the hole in the ceiling that he had created only minutes earlier from the floor above.

Travers let go of Morley, and sprinted to the wooden ladder, throwing his useless weapon aside as he ran. Grabbing the lightweight ladder in both hands, he dragged it to the center of the room, directly beneath the hole.

Pushing him out of the way, the blood splattered, weapon strewn man clambered up the ladder, sheathing his newly pulled blades as he went, not waiting to see if the other two followed. Only when he reached the top and pulled himself clear did he look down. Travers was pushing the wounded Morley up the ladders, the pain of her broken ribs slowing her down as she tried to pull herself upwards.

As she reached the top of the ladder, the man realized she would not be capable of pulling herself up without assistance and reached down, a soft sigh coming from his lips. As she reached up, Morley couldn't help but gasp in pain as she was wrenched through the hole as fast as he could pull her. Travers followed her up the ladder, leaping to grab the corners of the hole even as the flames began to lick up the lower rungs of the ladder. Reaching down, their savior pulled him up with one hand, no visible effort showing on his face as he lifted the 15 stone body of the trooper.

Turning without a word, he raced to the doors to the stairwell, hearing the footsteps of the two following close behind as he ran. Reaching the doors he slammed them open, looking down on the fiery inferno beneath him, and then upwards, past the entrance to the 6th floor he had entered to begin with.

Not hesitating, he raced upwards, the stumbling footsteps of the other two striving to keep up with his pace.

As they past the entrance to the 6th floor, the signs of death could be seen. The stench of the holy-watered corpse filling the air. Not stopping, they continued upwards to the entrance to the roof, even as the flicks raced upwards, the paint on the walls igniting as they went.

With the flames only inches behind them, he shoulder slammed the door, smashing it open with the weight of his body. As the pair behind him rushed through the doorway, the smoke and flames shot upwards through the gap.

'When the flames hit the chemicals, this entire building is going to blow,' called Travers as he supported Morley against his shoulder. 'We have to get off this roof before the whole place goes down..'

They sprinted to the side of the roof, looking down over the edge, and then across to the next rooftop. At least 3 meters – too far for them to jump.

Looking around the rooftop, Morley called to her only remaining trooper, 'Travers, get that plank – it's our only chance.'

Sprinting across the roof, Travers grabbed the length of wood, striving to drag it across the rough surface. Suddenly the weight reduced as the stranger picked up the opposite end and together they ran back across the roof.

Tilting the length on its end, they lowered it carefully till it reached the opposite rooftop, only inches to spare when bridged across the gap. Without waiting, the man sprinted across the gap to the other side.

The pair watched in disbelief as he ignored them to go first, then looked at each other again as they realized the reason for his actions. He was the only one of the three of them in good enough shape to hold the plank in place while the others crossed. Morley's broken ribs, and the bullet hole through Travers left arm, only now beginning to bleed profusely and hurt as the pain-overload of the adrenalin began to fade, would have prevented them from having the ability to do so.

Morley crossed first, her arms wrapped around her chest as the shooting pains ripped through her body, stumbling across, desperately trying to maintain her balance. As she reached the opposite side she felt herself being pulled the last yard, and then dropped to the ground. Travers followed quickly, supporting his damaged arm as he went.

As he reached the roof's edge and stepped down onto the tarred surface, the building they had just left shook with a series of explosions. A jet of flame erupted from the doorway to the roof they had just left, as the roof itself appeared to implode, falling down on itself. Further explosions sounded, each louder than the last until, with one final mighty roar, the building began to collapse around itself, spraying bricks in all directions.

As they watched in disbelief, the troopers finally relaxed slightly, taking off their helmets as they witnessed the grave of their friends falling in on itself.

Suddenly the man spoke for the first time as he caught sight of their faces.

'Cordy?,' he whispered as he saw her for the first time, her brunette hair and tanned skin lit up by the flames just meters away.

'What did you say?,' she called to him in her broad New York accent.

<Shit> he thought to himself <Why do I have to see them everywhere I go? What am I – stupid? Just couldn't keep my mouth shut could I?> as he turned away, his face a mask of pain as he strode towards the far side of the roof.

Travers and Morley raced after him, just managing to touch his shoulder before he reached the far side.

'Wait,' she called, 'I'm Sara Morley, this is John Travers - who are you? What happened here? At least tell us your name.'

'You wouldn't believe me even if I tried,' he replied in a low whisper. 'Just let it go and be glad you're still alive.'

He turned to face them and they recoiled at his expression. The pain and suffering etched across his features, written deep into his face without needing marks, appeared unbearable. Those eyes, no longer hidden by shadow, appeared full of pain, their soft brown pupils seeming to sear into their souls.

'What happened here tonight will happen again, and worse. It always has and it always will…and no-one can stop it'

'You did…,' she called, 'You stopped it.'

'And did I save your friends? I don't think so……', he murmured, turning away.

'Your name – at least tell us your name….'

The man paused for a moment as he stepped down onto the fire escape on the side of the building, hesitating for a moment. Then he stepped over the side of the roof, calling out softly as he went….

'Xander…'

since this is the first thing I've ever written I need to know if its worth continuing or just to go back to reading everyone else's fiction, so PLEASE let me know. More detailed criticism the better…

*****

Chapter 2 : Entrance

The helicopters sped low over the tops of the huge trees, their twin blades sweeping silently through the air, the usual sounds of a choppers motion reduced to almost undetectability by the stealth facilities built into their design. Within each of the 4 choppers, the eight man teams were almost as silent as their transportation, breaking the silence only in hoarse whispers, any attempt at speaking in normal tones rendered useless by the winds rushing past them.

As they approached their drop off point, the red bulbs attached to the back of the pilots cockpits sprung to life, glowing an almost eerie red in the near darkness, their glows broken up by the protective mesh covering each of them, protection against accidental damage.

'I minute,' went the call from each team leader. 'Radio sets on, goggles live. Weapons are hot gentlemen, we've got a way to go and there could be anything out there.'

As the helicopters continued their progress, the men within them sparked into life as they completed final preparations, the hum of electronics starting up filling the cabins, sending a low pitched resonance through the air.

'Somebody wake up Commander Finn for gods sake,' muttered one of the soldiers in the lead chopper, snorting with suppressed laughter as he did so.

'I'm already awake, don't worry about me,' the still figure replied. As he came out of his meditative state, he felt his senses kicking back into action as his body started to move.

'I don't understand how you can do that sir. We've riding to a mission on twin fuel tanks, 30 feet above the tops of the trees, armed to the teeth and you sleep straight through it!,' the soldier exclaimed again. 'How do you stay so fucking calm? What are you – dead?'

<You have no idea> Riley thought to himself, smiling inwardly as he did so.

'When you've seen as much as I have kid, you learn to sleep whenever you can. Don't worry – ten more years of this and you'll be doing the same – if you're still alive that is…'

The soldiers were silent for a moment, looking at his serious expression, before one suddenly burst into laughter.

'Yeah, after what your girlfriend did to you last time you got caught with that stripper, Pete, I wouldn't give you another 10 months! If she finds out about the nurse as well, she'll cut your balls off with a spoon,' he called to the now red faced man, to the low chuckles of the rest of the team.

'Enough,' called the captain from his position by the side of the open doorway, looking down at the treetops rushing past him below. 'Twenty seconds. Fasten the lines and prepare to go.'

The click of the harness to the central bar running along the axis of the cabin's floor sounded in unison, the steel clips fastening in place at the captain's command.

'All units prepare to go,' came the voice of the pilot in the lead chopper, speaking now to all 4 helicopters at the same time. 'Rendezvous point in 5,4,3,2,1 – now'

As the four choppers stopped dead in the air in perfect formation, 32 lines flew out of the doorways of the cabins, the metal and fiber lines humming as they rubbed against the edge of the door rims.

The lines flung from the entrances were followed immediately by 16 green and black streaked figures as half the soldiers began their fixed line descent, sliding rapidly down the lines, the hand grips to which they clung whizzing as the lines span through the cogs which formed their central parts.

Even as the men cleared the lower edge of the choppers, the remaining soldiers followed almost immediately, sliding down the lines as quickly as those just seconds earlier. The bodies of the troops slid easily through the thin upper canopy of the treetops, then crashed feet first through the much denser lower branches as they approached the ground.

The first troops hit the ground, their knees bending even as they did so, absorbing the impact of their landings, releasing their handgrips as they leapt of the way of the second wave of troops descending from the sky.

As the second wave landed and also released their hold on the lines, the choppers took off as quickly as they arrived, the soft sweep of their blades and rotors unheard through the dense foliage.

The entire exercise had taken less than 30 seconds from the moment the helicopters had rocked to a halt, to their immediate disappearance, no final message, no further delay, as they disappeared towards the mountains in the distance.

The troops regrouped rapidly, an immediate check for injuries being free of incident. Quickly checking his GPS locator strapped to his right forearm, the captain leading the ground smiled at the accuracy of their drop off.

'Right on target,' he called out. 'Ok, Rodrigues and Sharp, take point, lets lead 'em out. We've got a full nights hike ahead of us and a tight timescale – no delays. Lets go.'

The small clearing in which they had finished up cleared as if by magic, the camouflaged soldiers fading into the brush which filled the gaps between the towering trees above them.

'Remember the instructions! Avoid contact with locals at all costs – we can't risk detection before we reach the facility, and we need to make the second target point before sunup to leave ourselves time to make camp,' continued the captain as they pushed through the greenery.

*****

Several hours later, the forward motion of the troops continued, ceasing only to avoid possible contact with anyone outside of the group. The two point men signaling for pauses whenever a noise was judged sufficiently out of the ordinary as to warrant caution on their parts.

Till this point none of the short stops had discovered anything beyond animals feeding in the darkness, but the lengthy training of the men following meant they showed no signs of impatience at the repeated halts to their tracks, the cautiousness of the two lead men an indication of their professionalism.

The full moon overhead was just enough to provide some light to the soldiers as they marched, but not enough to be able to advance with only those rays to guide them. The dense canvas of the trees towering over their heads blocked out 95% of the light, only small gaps in the foliage allowing any light to the jungle floor.

The lack of natural light did not serve to slow the disciplined advance of the troops as they continued forward however. Their advanced night vision goggles illuminated the scene in front of them almost as clearly as if it had been day, only the green tinge caused by the light amplifying electronics signifying that it was still dark out.

Checking his hand computer again, the captain signaled a halt in their progress at an apparently random point in their trek.

'We've made better time than expected,' he called out. 'An hour till dawn…ok, get the covers set up and establish a perimeter. We're not moving anywhere till tomorrow night, so get going.'

The troops sprung into action as the captain beckoned his communications officer to his side. Reaching into the man's backpack, he pulled out a small rectangular pack, no light reflecting off its dark surface, as he pulled it open.

As the case expanded, a small computer screen could be made out, connected to a miniature satellite dish which quickly popped out to form a small bowl shape. Immediately turning on the equipment, the screen lit up faintly in front of the captain's eyes, its dim glow just enough to make out as the captain removed his goggles. As the request for identification appeared on the screen, the captain pressed his right thumb against the bottom corner of the panel. Calling Riley across to him, he watched as his second in command pressed his left thumb to the small square in the opposite corner.

No further identification required, he waited for several seconds as the connection between the small unit on his knees established the connection with the satellite high above, floating silently through the lower reaches of the night sky.

The unit hummed for a moment as the connection was made and a face appeared on the screen, the eyes of the uniformed man at the other end of the link widening slightly as he acknowledged the presence of the soldier.

'You're early,' he remarked succinctly to the captain, 'Didn't expect to hear from you for another half an hour..'

'Yessir,' replied the captain. 'We encountered less delays than expected enroute to the site sir. We are currently bedding in. The extra time will simply allow us to cover the site better sir.'

'Good work captain,' answered his opposite. 'Keep to the schedule and you should reach the facility by midnight tonight. Sun goes down around 6, leaving you plenty to time to make your approach in darkness.'

'I still feel it would have made more sense to approach in daylight sir. Even with our equipment, the darkness limits our maneuverability….'

'As stated in the briefing captain, we must ensure your approach and contact goes unseen. There would be enough trouble if you were found here, but if the facility is located in the process there will be more than just hell to pay. A secret US military facility in a friendly country's territory? No, the mission goes ahead as planned.'

'Have you heard from the facility yet sir? Do you have any further information regarding the situation there?,' the captain asked quickly to move his superior's attention away from his implied criticism of the mission's planning.

'No captain. There has been no further contact with the facility for 12 hours at this point, the last communication being the emergency pulse signal. You must continue as planned. Take all precautions on site until you determine what has happened. Commander Finn will provide you with further guidance on site.'

'Acknowledged general. We will contact you upon contact with the facility's personnel or sweep of the site. Ceasing transmission now.'

The computer shut itself down on these words, folding itself up without further attention by the captain, its automatic functions swinging into action without delay. As the unit shrank back to its original size, the captain returned it to the communication specialist's backpack, rising to his feet as he did so.

Flicking the switch on his night goggles as he did so, his eyes swept the area, observing the disciplined actions of the surrounding troopers as he did so. The area had been a hive of activity just moments earlier as the soldiers scooped out trenches in the dirt then covered them with the camouflaged canvases they had carried in with them.

<I still don't like this mission> he thought to himself as he watched his men setting up defensive positions, <and that bastard Finn sure as hell isn't telling us anything>

As the last of the defensive and camouflage positions was completed, the whole process having taken the men only minutes to perform all the various tasks, he signaled to the group.

'You know the drill, A Team takes first watch, the rest of you get some sleep. We'll be making rapid time tonight and daylight'll only be for 10 hours at this time of year. Teams will switch at 2 ½ hour intervals by the mark, now settle in – there's only 40 minutes before the sun comes up and we need to be under cover before then,' he ordered, his exhausted troops dropping gratefully to the ground, worn out by the long hike through the dense jungle, the humidity of the air having served only to make their passage more difficult.

*****

Twenty minutes later, most of the troops were already asleep, their bodies trained to take advantage of any opportunity to recharge themselves during a mission, leaving only the 8 man team around their perimeter on guard. The jungle around them quieter than normal, the movement of the men having silenced many of the nocturnal inhabitants.

The men within the perimeter slept shallowly, their training outweighing any feeling of safety provided by their comrades around them.

Even as they slept, Riley Finn was still awake, the troops surrounding his position in the middle of the troops not making him feel any more secure, thoughts running through his head.

<What the hell could have happened there?> he thought to himself. <It should have been totally secure for gods sake. Hell, I helped set up half the defenses myself, and we strengthened them even further after what happened with that bitch and Xan…>

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a wet thud coming from the edge of the encampment. He could almost feel his ears pricking up as he lifted his head, his body tensing as he did so, striving to make out any sounds from the men in the area around him.

Pulling on his goggles, he looked around, trying to make out any sign of movement in the still darkness surrounding them.

A second wet thud sounded and then, before he could locate the source of the noise or react in any way, the early morning darkness suddenly exploded.

Shots rang out from two of the perimeter guards, bullets rattling from their weapons, only the silencers fixed to the ends of the barrels preventing the air being filled with the sounds of typical gunfire.

The bullets spat out in a twisting circle, their source still hidden by the camouflage of the outer guard units, designed to prevent their detection in the event of an attack. As the rest of the troops rolled out of their sleeping holes, grasping their weapons as they did so, the bullets from the two continued to fire.

The direction of the gunfire prevented even these elite troops from having time to react. As the bodies of the guards were spun around, their still firing weapons continued in action, even as they were turned to face their fellow troopers. The rain of bullets span across the group, still in the process of reacting to the sudden events.

As the bullets impacted on the bodies of the soldiers, they began to fall, the Teflon tipped special forces ammunition suddenly becoming a liability to the small army as they pierced the lightweight Kevlar armor covering their bodies.

In the space of seconds before the gunfire abruptly ceased, there was sufficient time to cause a swathe of damage through the middle of the group, several of the men falling immediately, dead in an instant, other dropping to the floor, blood spurting from smaller wounds. Most of the rest of the men dived for cover, their eyes straining to make out the cause of the sudden disaster, while a handful sprinted towards the positions of the soldiers from whom the shots had come.

As they reached the positions, they pulled up short, their weapons sweeping out as they took in the site lying in front of them. The bodies of the two formerly firing soldiers were pinned against the trees against which they had been sheltering, held up by their own black-coated knives. Struck dumb, the advancing soldiers could only look on in shock at the sight of their friends, the blood gushing from the entrance wounds of the blades, driven inches deep into the bark.

It wasn't the sight of their stabbed comrades-in-arms that pulled them up short. They were all professionals, had all seen years of service in special forces, had seen friends and strangers alike blown apart, shot and killed in multiple methods of death, but what lay in front of them shocked even their experienced eyes.

The two dead troopers had been completely gutted, their insides not just ripped open, but their internal organs torn out completely, and splattered for yards around, only the lungs of the men still inside.

'That's a fucking bite mark,' whispered one.

'What do you mean, that's a fucking bite mark? What the hell are you talking about?,' snapped another in reply.

Even as the rest of the group scanned the area, taking cover behind the nearby trees, the first man continued, 'Look at the lungs – those are fucking bite marks mate!! I've got half a dozen rotweilers, and I know when I see fucking bite maRKS!'

His voice rose at the end of the sentence, the impact of what he was seeing hitting home.

'What the hell did this to them?,' called another, 'And where the fuck did they gooouuurghhh….!!!'

The voice of the man was cut short in a horrifying gurgle as 4 hairy figures tore through the small group, racing between them on all fours, claws slashing outwards at random as they came, their fangs dripping with mucous and saliva.

The claws ripped through 4 of the men in an instant, each of the beasts tearing out the throats of a soldier as they leapt at them. Even as the remaining troops reacted instinctively, pulling on the triggers of their weapons, unleashing a hail of bullets at the creatures around them, the long-haired creatures continued their run.

Racing through the rest of the group, moving too fast for the turning figures bullets to make contact, they seized the last two figures, leaping up and gripping the men, two jaws gripping each. Their forward motion continued, dragging the men into the darkness with them, the screams of the soldiers echoing through the air as they disappeared from view, beyond even the capabilities of the advanced goggles they were all wearing.

Just as suddenly as it had all started, the action ceased, only the screams of the taken two filling the air until seconds later the cries ceased with a terrifying snap of bones as their necks were ripped apart.

*****

The dumbfounded troupe, still reacting to what had happened, finally managed to regroup. Fanning out in a tightly packed circle, their weapons sweeping up and down, around and around, they created a full 360 degree area of cover, unaware that the danger had already passed.

Minutes later, the sun rose, penetrating the thin canopy in the area above them, lighting the scene fully in what seemed like an instant. The amount of light making it through seemed surprising given the depth of cover which had blotted out the moonlight during the previous night's hike, but the relief of the shocked soldiers was evident as they removed their night goggles to take in the scene around them.

'Sound off,' called the captain, trying to quantify the damage to his team, his mind reeling from the speed of what had happened.

As the men finished calling off their names and call-signs, the captain struggled to maintain his composure, as he realized that half the team had been killed in the space of what could have only been a handful of minutes if not seconds, without a single body of their attackers to show for it.

Four of the sentries had been taken out at the start, with the resulting spray of bullets killing another 6 of their own men, still rising from sleep. Four more had been massacred while checking the sentries, their throats torn out in an instant. Then the final two, perhaps the most shocking of the lot, taken from them by whatever had attacked them, pulled into the jungle in seconds.

'Captain, are we going to go after them? We can't just leave them out there…'

'No – they're already dead. We have to look after ourselves,' Riley Finn interrupted the questioning words of the soldier, his voice cutting across any response that the captain in charge might have made. 'Can we call out?'

The body of the communications specialist lay sprawled on the ground before them, the impact of the bullets that had riddled his back evident immediately. The shattered remnants of the satellite gear scattered across his body, thrown out of his pack by the force of the bullets impacts.

'What about the backup unit? That can't have been the only one?,' he continued, his eyes sweeping across the rest of the group.

'No,' replied the captain, 'But you're standing on what's left of the backup. It got trampled on when we tried to take cover – it's trashed as well. We have no way of calling out and letting them know what happened here. Now why don't YOU try and tell me what the FUCK just happened? What killed my men? What were those things? – and don't try and tell me it was a fucking puma or some other shit like that, 'cause I know damn well those things weren't anything from the fuckin' nature channel!!'

The captain's voice rose in volume as he finished his speech, his profanity increasing as his control threatened to fracture.

Riley was silent for a moment, looking around at the hostile stares of the men surrounding them, the bodies still tense and alert as they tried to watch both the area around them and their two superiors facing off in the center of the circle created by their bodies.

'I don't know what those things were,' he replied quietly, 'But!,' he interjected quickly as the captain and a handful of the men showed clear signs of disbelief, 'It might be connected with the place we're heading too.'

'What the hell do you mean “connected”?,' exclaimed the captain, 'You need to start telling us more about where the hell we're going and what the hell this mission is all about! This is no time for more of your 'need to know' secrecy bullshit. It can't wait until we get there – half my men are already dead and we've still got hours of travel to go before we have any chance of recovery. If those things are out there while we travel, none of us might make it – now start FUCKING TALKING!!!!.'

Spit flecked onto Riley's face as the captain thrust his face inches from his nose, his eyes wide open as screamed the last few words.

Looking around once more at the faces around him, seeing them turn angry as he watched, their rage and fear finding a focus at the man their captain was shouting at. The only member of the group not part of the regular team, the only man who seemed to have any idea what they might be facing, Riley was an obvious target for their rising emotions.

'OK,' Riley finally spoke out, not seeing any alternative to giving at least some kind of explanation if he wanted to keep his head.

<Hell, I might need them before the day's over>

'The facility we are heading to is a top secret US military facility, for obvious reasons, since it's in Mexican territory without their knowledge. The facility has various experiments underway at any one point in time, and no, I will not tell you what most of those are, the operation is classified well beyond your level of clearance, half of them beyond mine. A number of those experiments involve different creatures, none of which you would recognize, the purpose of which differ depending on the nature of the experiments.'

'And those creatures,' a soldier interrupted, 'are those creatures from this place? Are they??'

'I can't say for sure,' Riley replied, 'I've never seen them before, not even at this place, but since I don't recognize them from anywhere else, I'd have to assume that they came from there. How they got here, and what they are, I can't say. What I can say is that we should get to the facility as quickly as possible. I don't think they'll attack us in daylight, with the element of surprise gone and their vision compromised, but I think we should get going immediately. The faster we reach the site, the faster we can call for help. Plus the facility has secure defenses that we should be able to use to fend off any such assault tonight.'

'What about the bodies?,' a soldier spoke up. 'We can't just leave them here for those things!'

'We have to,' spoke up the captain. 'Commander' – he spat out the title as he spoke – 'Finn is right, we should get going right now. Collect all the gear that might be useful and lets go. We know the GPS co-ordinates of this site, we can come back for the bodies later, but for now lets move out !!'

The surviving members of the group scrambled to follow their captain's orders, collecting spare ammunition and weapons as they went till they were each carrying two men's worth of weaponry. Jettisoning anything they deemed unnecessary, which by now meant anything that couldn't kill or help kill, they started to move out, following the lead of Riley Finn as he strode rapidly away from the scene.

They left behind them a scene of carnage, bodies piled together, bullet wounds, slashed throats, and eviscerated stomachs still oozing blood even in death. The once green foliage now coated in places in thick, dark blood, the smell already drawing the flies and other insects which always flocked to death; small carnivores already preparing to follow, their fear of the creatures which had just passed through now outweighed by the scent of blood, drawing them in, their base animal instincts overwhelming their caution.

Even as the last of the soldiers passed well out of earshot, the hairy creatures returned, sending the smaller mammals fleeing from the scene as they advanced on the bodies. The group, now 7 strong, snarled and tore at the bodies, shredding them with their jagged teeth, tearing at the flesh, ripping organs from the soft innards of the torsos and gulping them down whole.

Minutes later, their stomachs engorged with their newly eaten meal, the troop slept nearby. Their bodies completely relaxed as they basked in the sun, making no move to follow the living soldiers, their energies expended for the time being. They could always track them later in the day.

*****

If the marching group had known what was happening behind them, they might have broken completely, but fortunately for them they remained unaware of the meal being made of their fallen colleagues, pressing onwards as fast as they could.

The jungle air fell heavily on them, the humidity pressing down like lead weights on their shoulders, every stride taking more and more out of the troops than the one before. As they eased through the jungle they were forced to continually sweep the scene with their weapons, their nerves jangling.

At the slightest unexpected sound, one of the soldiers would open fire, the attempts by the captain to maintain order and silence overwhelmed by the sheer level of tension and stress filling the group. He himself was not immune to this – a small creature running across his path was blown into tiny pieces before he even realized he had opened fire.

Only Finn appeared unaffected by the tension, his figure alert but not out of control.

<If they had seen what I've seen, perhaps they wouldn't act like new recruits> he thought to himself.

<If they'd worked with the Initiative maybe they'd realize that there are many worse things in the world than what they encountered today – last night – whatever…>

Striding along, his two machine guns slung low at his hips, he continued his chain of thought.

<Fucking Maggie Walsh> he swore suddenly to himself. <If she hadn't got ahead of herself, the project could have continued there indefinitely - the hellmouth drew enough demons to make collection easy, but NOOOO, she had to build a fucking hybrid-machine thing and turn the fucking Scooby gang, Slayerettes or whatever they called themselves against them – against ME!!>

His teeth clenched even as he thought about it, his anger increasing, causing him to bunch his fists together as he crashed through the undergrowth, his mind turning in on itself as he continued onwards, his memories fueling his own rage as he went.

<And when I helped them take down A.D.A.M., did they appreciate me? NO – they treated me just as before, as just another member of their little group. Not a single one understood that I should have been in charge. I had the experience, the military knowledge, hell, I had the BRAINS to be in charge of the group. You think Giles should have stayed in charge? Hell, they ignored him from the beginning – the man couldn't enforce nap time at a kindergarten school… no wait…. bad example - those little bastards never do as they're told. That's it – he couldn't take charge of a raffle sale, no wait, that's another…..what the hell am I thinking about – Fuck Giles and his books, he was still better than Buffy. Perfect, saintly little Buffy, and her fake-blonde hair – no surprises to him there when he finally got her in the sack, even if it was with Faith's mind in charge. She thought she was so goddamn special, with her slayer strength and everything, doing whatever she wanted, ignoring procedures, rules, everything… just riding over his objections and doing what she wanted anyway, ignoring him, treating him like he was less than her. And that fucking vampire, Angel, she just couldn't let go of him could she, the bitch, flaunting him in front of me like that….>

<Still, even with all that she was better than those other two little pieces of shit, especially him!>

The name ran through his brain, round and round and round, <Xander, Xander, Xander, Xander…> till he almost banged his own fists against the sides of his head to break the circle of thought.

<Him and his friends always treated me like I wasn't good enough to join their stupid little group. That fucking lesbian always pretended that she liked me, claiming she was helping me get Buffy to go with me, that stupid fake shyness tricked me !! When it came down to a choice she took his word over mine in an instant, and then she had the nerve to sway Buffy as well !! and of, where her royal blondness goes, that stupid librarian just follows along like he doesn't have a mind of his own….typical fucking Brit, too stupid to wise up to how pathetic their country is now, just another little state with delusions of grandeur, caught in the past….mind wandering again, focus damnit !!>

Riley's expression appeared wild as he came to the final name in his thoughts, the tendons in his neck stretching as he fought to bank down his rage at the memories.

<Fucking Xander. Fucking Xander. FUCKING XANDER !!!!! He was responsible for it. He was responsible for it all…. If it hadn't been for him, I'd be on my way to being a fucking general by now, that bastard, not stuck out here in the middle of the jungle, having to force my way to a place I'd thought I'd finally gotten past….but noooooo, as soon as something goes wrong there, they just call me back up, like it was my fault the last time and so I should have to fix whatever it is has gone wrong this time !! Well it wasn't my fucking fault what happened last time, no matter what they said. It was all that bastard's fault, him and that bitch. Well at least they suffered before it all went to shit, at least she d…..>

His chain of random angry thoughts were brought to an abrupt halt as the group suddenly appeared in a small clearing, the facility straight in front of them.

<What the hell?> he thought <We're here already? Shit, must have tuned out for a while there – those bastards fucking up my concentration again goddammit!! Gotta focus, gotta stay alert now>

*****

The 16 man team had reached the edge of the jungle, the join between its edge and the clearing where the building in front of them lay, ragged, designed not to draw immediate attention from any satellite photography from above, the camouflaged netting covering the entire roof surface in multiple shades of green and black, designed to appear like tree canopy from above.

From below though, it looked exactly what it was – a big sheet stretched over a low level building, clearly not the whole of the facility unless they were dealing with very small creatures and experiments. And judging from the size of the beasts they had already encountered, that didn't seem likely.

The sight of the building stopped Riley and the rest of the troops short. The main doors appeared to have been blown open with some kind of explosives, the outer windows shattered, their iron bars covering the front of them twisted out of shape.

Wisps of smoke escaped from one of the two windows facing towards them, seeping out from between the broken shards of glass still fixed to the frame.

Even as he studied the scene, Riley realized that something was wrong.

The doors.

They were blown inward.

And that meant……

that whatever had blown them open might still be out here !!

Riley spun around in a circle, trying to make out anything out of the ordinary in the jungle scenery around and behind him or near the building in front of him. He couldn't see anything, nothing but clumps of green and brown bark, and then….

One of the green clumps shifted, a face rising from its position against the ground, its scarred visage apparent beneath the green paint covering it from neck to hairline.

<Oh fuck>

That was the single thought that ran through Riley's head as the figure in the distance rose up slightly. He didn't consider a warning to the troops standing on either side of him, didn't point out the figure facing them, but just reacted on instinct.

Riley dived to the ground, his legs bending beneath him as he dropped. He could feel his body falling in the air, could see the walls of the building passing in front of him, everything happening in slow motion. Time seemed slowed down for an instant, the remaining soldiers not reacting, not having the time to react to what he had just done.

And then, just as time had slowed to Riley, it increased in speed to the rest of the group.

A bullet passed through the space occupied milliseconds ago by Riley, cutting through the area that had been occupied by his beating heart, and as it missed its target, its pinpoint accuracy ruined by Riley's reflexive action, it continued on its path.

Unfortunately for Sergeant Steve Wilkinson, that trajectory happened to coincide with his own beating heart, as he happened to be the soldier standing to the right of Commander Finn when the bullet passed through the empty space.

At least it was his beating heart, until his chest was torn out by the high caliber round that rocketed through the air, piercing his Kevlar armor as if he hadn't bothered to pull it on the day before; its high tech, incredibly expensive, state of the art fabric penetrated by the bullet which continued through to the other side of his chest and out of the other side, blowing a huge exit wound out of his right side and back, in sharp contrast to the much smaller entrance wound. His heart was simply vaporized by the power of the bullet, any other organs that got in the way destroyed as the cartridge continued its path through and out of his body.

He died immediately, his body shutting down all functions in an instant, faster than the message from his nerves could reach his brain to tell himself that he had been shot.

The rest of the squad didn't react immediately. The silenced shot not being loud enough to alert them at once, the impact of arriving at the facility after hours of hard slog through the jungle depths slowing down their trained reflexes, their adrenalin already drained from the events of the day, preventing any faster response at the sight of the diving Finn and slain Wilkinson.

For the man standing at Sergeant Wilkinson's side, none of this made the slightest bit of difference. The power of the bullet rendered any effects of shock or adrenalin-fatigue meaningless, as it blasted through the sergeant's body and continued in flight, its trajectory not altered by a millimeter on its path as it continued its propulsion.

The bullet, now coated in a slick covering of blood from the body through which it had just passed, span as it flew the short distance between the two soldiers. The speed and spin as it traveled through the air caused the blood in which it had just been coated to evaporate, the laws of physics taking effect as it went.

The squad was just about to react, still in the process of absorbing the visual information that had passed in front of their eyes when the bullet claimed its second victim. Striking the slightly stooping soldier just above his right eye, the bullet passed through and out of the other side of his head in less than the blink of an eye, the brain matter through which it passed turning into so much gunk in the process. Like Sergeant Wilkinson, he was dead without even realizing it, passing on to whatever afterlife might be facing him.

As the two now dead soldiers crumpled to the ground, the remaining team finally reacted, diving for the ground, taking cover in the trees from which they had just come, desperately trying to move their bodies away from the line of fire.

Even as they did so, Riley Finn had sprinted the short distance to the compound, diving in through the shattered hole in the doors, a second bullet missing his diving figures by millimeters.

The rest of the squad were not so fortunate.

Their muscles reacting to training, faster than mere instinct, they found cover, returning fire in the direction from which the initial shots had come from, riddling the green mound with their ammunition, shredding the green covered camouflage that had shielded the man from view as they had approached.

Their actions did not save them.

Even as the second shot had been fired, the man had moved, rolling his body away from his initial firing spot, over and over until he reached the cover of an upturned trunk, yards away from where he started.

Sighting through a small hole in the wood, he sighted on a crouching figure, and in one smooth motion, sent another cylinder of death spinning in the man's direction. Without pausing, without hesitating; without waiting to see the results of his shots, knowing before they made contact what the result of each pull of his trigger would be, he swung the long barreled snipers rifle across the scene in front of him.

Sighting without effort, he pulled the trigger again and again, again and again. Six shots rang out in the space of a few seconds, and with each shot, a man stopped moving, his muscle activities ended, no more thoughts capable of running through his heads If they hadn't made peace with their families or their gods, it was now too late.

In the blink of an eye, the 16 men remaining from the earlier catastrophe was reduced to 8, one of whom was already inside the building, the one man that he actually cared about killing, the man who had…..

*****

The last seven men still alive outside of the compound came to the same realization at exactly the same time, not hard under the rather extreme circumstances facing them. And that realization was –

<If I stay out here I'm a dead man. Got to get inside the building>

The survivors leapt to their feet and sprinted to the entrance in unison, their feet crashing with each step, hearts pounding, blood rushing through their bodies, carrying oxygen to exhausted limbs, one final adrenalin shot to the system in a last ditch effort to maintain their survival.

For four of the seven, that last adrenalin boost might as well not have occurred. Even as they pounded towards the doorway, the bullets were on their way, one targeted at each figure, aiming directly at their spines.

For Mark Saunders time appeared to have slowed, even as it had for Riley Finn just moments before. As he raced to the entrance, he felt rather than saw a bullet impact on a friend just a foot in front of him, felt another strike the body to his side and then he went down himself, crashing to the ground.

For the man sprinting in front of him, that was the worse thing that could have happened. The bullet that would have deflected in its path slightly upon hitting Mark's collarbone, that would then have just missed his own carotid artery, was instead sent on its way without interruption. It tore his neck open, ripping the artery apart and condemning him to his death, fortunately a quick death, his life's blood pouring out of his body in seconds. His mind shut down upon realization at what had happened and for the last moments of his young life, the soldier felt no pain, no suffering, a blessing compared to what his comrades had suffered earlier in the day.

Mark on the other hand was definitely feeling pain. Not the pain of a bullet blasting his body open, but the pain of a broken wrist, shattered with the impact of his body against the ground at full speed. The rock on which he had tripped was sent flying through the air as he scrambled back to his feet in a mad rush to make it through the hole in front of him.

Even as he made it through, feeling his arms torn by the ragged edges of the damaged doors, he saw a final soldier go down beside him, another body torn apart by those lethal spinning tubes which brought nothing put pain and death. Guns don't kill people, people kill people? Tell that to the weapon from which the death bringers had come, tell that to the bodies of those left lying in the dirt.

The three men still alive from the race to the doorway pushed deeper into the small corridor in front of them, driving Finn back in the process, their only thought being to get out of the sights of that lethal rifle somewhere behind them in the jungle.

Four left from the thirty two that had started the mission. Twenty eight bodies left on the path from the drop-off point to the doorway of their target facility, torn apart by monsters, their own bullets and then, when they thought they had reached safety, by a lethal killer armed with a hi-tech rifle.

The following thought flashed through the mind of one of those still in one piece, Bates –

<Can this day get any worse? Please god let me live? I just want to see my daughter one more time>

Images of a tiny blond angel flashed through his mind. Her squalling face moments after having been born, her first birthday, ignoring the gifts from him and his family in favor of rolling around in the wrapping paper the presents came in, the money spent on them wasted. Her third birthday, the first with friends, laughing at the clown his wife had hired for the occasion, her fifth birthday spent with just the three of them at Disneyland in Florida, his arms around his little girl, his lips pressed to his beautiful wife's. Her 6th birthday is just next week, our 7th anniversary the week after that, we're going on a second honeymoon…..

Bates' chain of thoughts ended, the images of a wife and child he would never see again the last that passed through his mind. As the grenade launcher sent a small projectile sailing through the hole in the entrance, his mind and body froze, the final picture of holding his wife and baby in his arms, watching the sun go down.

The detonation filled the space behind the entrance, the sounds of the explosion in the confined area blowing his eardrums. Even before the shockwave had time to reach him, Bates was dead, the metal fragments of the grenade ripping through his upper body and head, shredding it to pulp, not a recognizable feature left as the corpse was flung backwards by the shockwaves.

And then there were three…..

*****

Xander rose from his crouched position by the side of a broken tree, the long snipers rifle carefully re-packed in its carrying case and propped out of sight. The short barreled grenade launcher dangling from his right hand, smoke whisping from the barrel as he held it loosely, ejecting the cartridge even as he moved, sending it spinning out with a flick of his wrist.

The impact of its fall to the mossy floor at his feet was drowned by the explosion generated from the grenade launched only moments before, the shockwave blowing back down from the corridor, sending the already damaged doors tumbling off their hinges, crashing to the ground.

He stood there for a moment, out of sight of the men still alive inside, the shock of seeing Riley Finn's face among the men at the site ratcheting up his tension levels.

<Riley Finn, I can't believe it…. Nine years since I've been here, and as soon as I find it, they send him back in to investigate. This couldn't have turned out better if I'd set it up like this myself….>

Moving smoothly across the jungle floor, he shifted to a position with a view through the doors, catching sight of the men inside scrambling through a doorway at the end of the hallway.

<If they think they can escape that easily, they've got another surprise coming to them> he thought darkly to himself, as he approached the entrance, senses extended outwards, aware of the animals in the jungle around him stirring back to life from their frozen stances, as the sounds of the action died away.

As he stepped through the shattered doors, he swept the scene with his eyes, taking in the four bodies lying in front of him, limbs spread wide in their death poses.

<Only three when I came in before. Must have caught another of the support team with that grenade before they made it through to the end of the hall. Good thing I only used a low-explosive round that time, wouldn't want to block my way before I finish clearing the place..>

As he walked down the narrow hall, his mind began to flash back, just as it had when he blew the doors open the last time, just hours before - the memories of the first time he entered this place burned into his mind even after all this time….

*****

…his eyes span frantically in their sockets, the pupils dilated till they filled the visible portion of the eyeball, their normally soft brown shade now darkened in fear. The bruising around his left eye kept it almost completely closed, turning green and blue as the tissue reacted to the damage inflicted upon it.

He was strapped tightly to a sliding bench, some kind of examination table, all metal, smooth the touch. He could feel the cold chill of the metal against his bare flesh, as he lay there immobilized, the multiple white straps lashing him in place, preventing him from moving even his hands, the wrists and finger tied down also with some kind of strong tape

The drugs he had been repeatedly injected with had begun to wear off a couple of hours before, enough still in his system to slow his reflexes down, to prevent his eyes focusing properly, but no longer enough to dull the pain coming from his dislocated shoulder. The joint jutted out from the socket in which it should have been fixed, the men and women around him making no effort to assist him, to treat his injuries.

As he felt the table rolling along the ground, wheels rattling, he could see the lights flashing overhead, blurring together as he tried to focus without success. He could almost make out the sounds of another trolley being wheeled alongside, but the drugs made it difficult to tell whether the sounds were real or just a trick of his befuddled senses.

He knew he should be worrying about someone, someone close to him, but he couldn't seem to remember who it was. Images of a peaceful afternoon in a park seemed to float up behind his eyelids whenever he blinked, the faces of those with him blurred, like an out of focus film.

'That's it,' he heard a voice bark out from the foot of the trolley, feeling the jolt as the wheels passed over a bump on the floor, his transportation slamming to a halt.

Another trolley slid in place beside his and he could hear the figure beside him mumbling, no discernable words, just fragments of sounds in a soft female tone.

He tried to turn his head, electrical impulses firing in his neck. But even as he shifted his weight slightly, moving in slow motion, the twisting motion of his neck was halted by yet another strap across his forehead, preventing any movement greater than a slight tilt of an inch or so.

From the corner of his good right eye, he could just make out the edges of the body to his side, his vision blurring as he tried to focus. A glimpse of pale skin, a petite body, a wisp of hair, couldn't seem to make out the colour...

Even as his eyes squinted, trying to make out more detail, he felt himself slipping away, fatigue and the after-effects of the drugs causing his body to start the process of recovery by sending him to sleep. As he lost any focus, the light above his head splintered and spun as the elevator started its descent……

*****

Riley and the remaining pair of soldiers scrambled down the stairway through which they had stumbled into, desperately making their way down the cold metal stairs, their boots clattering as they went, clutching their weapons in their. They made no effort to take a stand against their attacker, concentrating on getting below as quickly as possible

'Who is he?,' private Harrison asked breathlessly, as his panic ridden body forced its way down the stairwell, 'Who the hell is he?'

'Shut up,' snapped Riley, even as he ran, 'We have to get to level 3. The main barracks are there, and so is the first point of defense. There should be a security detail of 6 men there, and the only way down to the lower levels is by getting through there.'

'Do you really think they're still there?' the second trooper, Saunders, responded. 'For gods sake, you've seen the damage to the place, what that guy did…what if he's not alone? what if they've already taken the facility? We could be running into a trap!'

'Oh he's alone,' replied Riley, 'Xander wouldn't come here with anyone else, he's on a mission.'

'Xander?,' Harrison immediately responded, his breathing ragged as he ran, his injured ribs sending shooting pains across his chest with each step. 'You know how it is?'

'Oh yes….that's Xander Harris out there, a former guest of this facility. Guess he isn't too happy about what happened to him here. Too bad, he always did whine too much!'

'Sure as hell doesn't look like he's whining now!,' Saunders snapped out as they reached the next level down, the rectangular sign secured next to the door indicating the level to which they had descended.

LEVEL 3 : RETINAL SCAN REQUIRED TO ACCESS

The small screen beside the sign, familiar to all as a retinal scanning unit, lay dormant. Its security features, designed to prevent unauthorized persons from going any further was state of the art. No buttons to press, no codes to input, merely a curved shape flat against the wall.

All of this expensive technology was rendered pointless by the fact that the door it was supposed to secure was hanging off one hinge, the solid steel frame twisted and mangled, burn marks scarring its surface.

'Shit,' muttered Riley, 'He's already been here. We have to keep moving, if we can't secure this level we'll keep going down. The containment facilities are on the next two levels so we might stand a chance of holding him out there, especially if anyone else is still down there.'

They raced through the security room, the strong lighting filling the air with an almost harsh white light. Bullet holes were evident as they passed through, blood splatters streaking across the walls. The still bodies of the security detail could be made out only from the corners of their eyes as they ran through, not looking left or right as they continued, not wanting to witness what they all knew was there. One extended leg protruded from behind a green painted desk, causing the tiring Harrison to stumble to his knees as his feet skidded out from beneath him, the thin trickle of blood running alongside the leg just slippery enough to prevent the grips on his boots from holding him upright.

He slid forward a couple of paces, coming to a halt just inches from the lifeless face of a female guard, her vacant eyes staring motionless straight ahead. Saunders pulled him to his feet without stopping, dragging him onwards through the door that Riley had just slammed open, the commander not even looking back to see if they were following.

As the trio entered a second stairwell, and began to make their way down, the pain-stricken Harrison managed to gasp out the words running through his head.

'Why was he outside? If he's already been down here and killed everyone, why was he waiting for us outside? Why wasn't he waiting for us down here or already gone?'

'He was waiting outside because he knew we were coming. Communication only went down about 17 or 18 hours ago from what I was informed, and he knew they would send in a team to investigate within hours. He can't have had to time to finish exploring the facility in that time – not if he had to fight his way through. That's why I think there might be some left alive down here, not because he spared them but just because he hasn't found them yet. By waiting outside he could take most of us out even before we got inside the building.'

<Looks like you've developed some brains there Harris. Still haven't realized that you can't compete against me though have you?>

As they reached the next level, Ril