The Base

This is a LONG story. I have once again based many of the ideas in this peice from videogames, not the classical 'Living dead.' I entered this as an English GCSE coursework peice./ It got an A*, however examiners complained it was too long. : (

Anyway, its about a chemical leak in Russia which has an effect on the surrounding community. A team of operatives are sent in to investigate, however, they are caught by the one thing that Jacques Pierre fears the most... The beast

Its complicated, but i had to cut it short, which made it rushed. Anyway, enjoy it!


The Base:
Prologue

They had landed at least an hour ago and already were under attack. Somehow it soothed Storm. He hadn’t fired a gun for weeks, and he was used to it, alright. Stationary Territorial Elite Mercenaries (S.T.E.M as they were formally known) was who he worked for. They were a British group of sharpshooters, heavy weapons specialists and demolitions experts and on few occasions, dealt with the supernatural and the… unexpected. This day, this mission, was one of those few. They sought out a clear place to land on the outskirts of the city and begged, begged that the rumours weren’t true. Begged that the supposed viral outbreak had not occurred. For they knew what happened to the carriers. They had seen it before, somewhere in France. It was horrible. Apparently once the Virus shut down their bodies, and had broken their DNA cells, they were fixed. Fixed by the living virus. This new type of DNA was confirmed as deadly, turning the infected into mindless ghouls- zombies.
Storm slammed another clip into his M16. He was worried and certain that ammo was short, still pounding the creatures with shots of humid lead. A firm, bony hand grabbed his shoulder, making him jump and jolt his aim. Storm was sure that he had a headshot.
“Jesus, don’t do that,” he exclaimed continually firing. “I had a clear headshot and you…” He paused. The person hadn’t removed its hand. In dread, he turned, his mind flooding with anguish. It was one of the ghouls. He knew it. He was done for. Food for the seemingly reanimated deceased.
But, no. He was the last of his team, Alpha squad. Time seemed to slow. The zombies weren’t getting slower - slower than they already were – but it was an adrenaline surge. He bit down on his own teeth, clenching his jaw, the squeaking of the bone echoed in his ears before turning and smashing the zombie in the head with his stock. The sound of squelching brains and cracking bone suited the moment perfectly. Skin easily peeled off its bleached bone and a wash of cool, retching air pebbled his face. The smell. The smell of rotting flesh was awful. “Aint no-one goin’ down on me, bitch!” As time seemed to speed up, he got back in aim. But the creatures had progressed massively, halving the distance between them. “Oh, shit!” He spat white phlegm from his lips and ran through the alley that he had come through. Ironic really. The alley way that he saw as an escape route only heightened the volume of the nightmare. He ran, ran through the slightly orange lit brick alley and stumbled upon a shotgun.
“Daymn!” he paused, eyes glinting in his sockets. He smiled and sniggered to himself “Aint no better!” He reached picking up the gun and as he did so, a neon sign that rung bells of glee in his ears lay, still lit in the gutter of the alley. His eyes twitched in amazement, as he patched the shotgun into a holster on his back.
Saffron Guns
“Holy…” As he got back on his feet, He dropped the M16. It served no more purpose to him. Six more rounds. It was just slowing him down. A cold rush of air swept upon his right side followed by numerous familiar moans. Storm didn’t hesitate, didn’t even look, he just unhooked a frag grenade from his belt, pulled the pin and threw it. “Die, you ugly bitches!” He knew that they couldn’t hear them, but it satisfied him, filling him with a certain adrenaline, one that he craved for during his work.
BOOM
The grenade exploded, killing a few, and leaving others limbless. Ones head even hung from a string of flesh before snapping and falling to its knees, blood spurting from its rough cut neck.
“You want some more!” he grinned, showing half of his gleaming teeth and ran into the shop, quickly picked up a grenade launcher and fired at the mindless beasts. Luckily for him it was loaded. Not so for the zombies. Another shockwave hit them, at least killing ten of them. “Yeah Mothers! Remember that Storm Harris owned you tonight! Ha!” as the smoke and asphalt cleared, there were none, allowing Storms opportunity to raid the shop.
“Urghh!” There was a smooth grunt from the left of where Storm was sanding. The cool air of the summer’s night breeze swept a cold mask onto his face. Storm paused. What was it? It was certainly not a ghoul that was for sure. There was no whine of mindlessness. No tone of disbelief. It was a sort of senseless growl. Whatever it was, Storm was ready. At least he thought he was. As he turned, there was a man silhouetted by the vague streetlamps. Who was he?
“H- Hello?” Storm maintained his slumped position, slowly and silently reaching for the shotgun. “Who are y…?”
As Storm stuttered upon his own throat, the man in the distance started to spasm, still standing upright. “Rargh!” He called out several times in a demonic tone. His shoulders started to broaden. His legs and torso began to bubble and grow with muscle. The body grew and grew halting at around ten foot tall, its arms and legs; all limbs bursting with muscle. What was once a person had now become a monster. Two circular glints appeared in the head of the creature. What was it?
“Oh… my god,” Storm rubbed his eyes reassuring his brain that what he was seeing was impossible. The creature slowly turned. Whether it was time slowing down or the creature wanted to create a big impression, Storm couldn’t tell. Its long hair swung and settled on its back and shoulders. Storms jaw slid open, eyes squinting. The creature bent down and in a heartbeat, it lifted off, legs screaming with power, and smeared into the mist that waved before Storms eyes. Again, what was it? How could it jump that high? Where had it gone? And most importantly, where had it come from?
Storms system was shutting down in pure surprise and shock and he fainted, lying on his back, facing the sky. The last thing he saw, the last thing he heard was the coarse humming of a S.T.E.M. helicopter.












Chapter 1



Jacques was in the bedroom when the phone rung. Not surprisingly, it echoed through the enormous house in the deserted grassland, North America. Jacques was getting dressed, topless, wearing dark blue jeans and a brown studded belt. He took a quick glimpse of the clock. It was almost mid-day. He strode to the door, listening for the second tone, the first he had almost missed. When his mind confirmed that the phone was ringing, he ran down the hall to where the phone lay in its cradle charger. It rung a fifth time before he picked it up.
Jacques took a deep breath “Hello?” he spoke in a slightly French accent.
A shrouded and crackly voice spoke on the other line. It was as if it was possessed, evil in a certain manner. “Mr Pierre,” it crumbled, in its sore and coarse way. It was a mans voice, by no doubt. “It has been a long time.” Jacques eyebrows fell and stood more upright as if he was being spoken to by a very important person.
He paused for a moment, hoping that the man on the other line would continue, but he plucked up the courage to say something. “Who are you, Sir, and how did you get this number?” Jacques was beginning to worry. A cold rush of blood flowed in his veins and the hairs on his chest retracted.
“Ha, ha…” It sounded as if he was clearing his throat but Jacques soon realised that he was laughing “Oh, come on Jacques, don’t say you don’t remember me.” the voice was much clearer now. “It’s Aaron.” Jacques features relaxed and he felt more comfortable. He didn’t know why, though. For all he knew, this man, claiming to be ‘Aaron’, his old wartime friend, could be someone completely different.
“How do I know that you’re not someone else,” he fiddled with the protection mat on the small table where the phone cradle laid. Jacques had to be very careful who he was talking to, especially, that he was a war veteran, a mercenary for hire at only 27 years of age. “You’d better start explaining.” Jacques roughened his tone. “Who are you really?”
“Hey, buddy,” the man on the other line seemed to be backing down and Jacques felt good about himself, felt that he was in power. “Look, if you don’t believe me, look out of the window, to your front yard.” Jacques began to worry. How could someone know his whereabouts?
What if this is a trap. An attempt on my life. Whatever it is, I have to find out. I can’t just stay here like a sitting duck!
Jacques mind now thought in American. Although he was French, he had taken a liking to American life and was certainly enjoying it. Every day, he would take a walk in the deserted hills that was part of the house that he owned. He could see for miles, until Besson City destroyed the beautiful landscape. He enjoyed American life and wasn’t going to change for anyone.
Thinking quickly, he thought he could fool ‘Aaron’. “Hang on, I’ll just finished getting changed,” he took the phone with him and threw it on the bed. He put it loudspeaker. He was to get his gun from under his pillow and threaten the impostor at gunpoint from his landing window. Jacques spoke trying to keep the atmosphere neural. “You know, if you are who you think you are, boy, am I glad to see you.” he checked his gun for bullets, creating an uncomfortable clicking sound.
“Jacques, no, no. There’s no need for guns.” The American accent didn’t seem worried at all. It was very relaxed and Jacques couldn’t stray that from his mind. It was almost unnatural.
Dammit! Shit! The man had obviously heard the gun. Jacques still went ahead with the plan. What if it is Aaron? Id never forgive myself if I shot him. Better not shoot on sight. Jacques strode to the window on his large landing, where a balcony like window was open and pointed the gun- a powerful Red9 advanced prototype downwards. He was on the second floor, so aiming shouldn’t be too hard. He saw the man standing there. He hadn’t noticed Jacques, despite his heavy footsteps on the wooden floor.
“Freeze,” Jacques shouted. Below him was a man, head hung slightly leaning on a relatively shiny Cadillac XLR –V, dressed in a long, leather black coat and a pair of designer shades. The man wasn’t surprised. He new Jacques. He wouldn’t shoot on first sight.
I can’t see him… God Dammit! Lift your head up for Christ sakes. As if the other man was Psychic, he lifted his head and opened his mouth to say something. “Jacques…” he paused and removed his shades. It was Aaron, he would notice his wide head and trademark slick, strung back, black hair anywhere. “Long time, no see, comrade.” He struggled to lift a smirk. What if Jacques would fire? Aaron hadn’t seen him in at least three years.
“Aaron!” He lowered the gun “It’s really you… Shit, I was beginning to worry,” Jacques wiped the brisk sweat from his forehead. They both smiled before bursting into meaningless laughter at the ridiculousness of the situation. They were good friends and nothing could break that link. “Jesus, man,” Jacques said, holding his chest signalling to his body to calm down. “You scared me… only a little though… of course, I… I knew it was you.” Jacques tried to remain strong, not to set an embarrassing expression after all these years.
“Hey…” Aaron threw his shades in the car behind him. “I’m just glad to see you buddy.” Jacques was calming down, letting his skin dry. “Oh, and glad that you didn’t shoot me.” the duo sniggered again.
“You’d better come in” Jacques huffed, still surprised to see Aaron.


The sun was settling in its stern position before it would plunge beyond the horizon, illuminating Besson City. The two had sat in bearskin armchairs for hours, the fire dancing warmly in gusts of red flame, talking about what they had been doing during the several years of separation.
“And then it just collapsed! BOOM! It was incredible, Aaron, the building that I had just been in, collapsed right before me”
“No” Aaron replied in a gasped expression. Jacques was describing to Aaron about the time that he had to liberate a Russian settlement, holding American hostages.
“And then the concrete flew past my face, man! It was intense! And then…” Jacques had pause and wondered whether or not he could trust Aaron with the information that was to possibly receive. “And then…” He paused again, this time staring into the fire…

The morning was cold, despite the fire, settling on the corners of the room, illuminating Jacques face. He was the last one left. The last one of his squadron to survive. He knew that he had to take out the target in order to survive. Jacques heard voices in the distance, Russian… The enemy. He fled the building, thinking quickly.
Jesus! I’m the last one left! He knew that he wasn’t going to survive this, but he had to try. There, lying on the floor, drenched in blood and scattered with asphalt, was one of his team-mates. Of course...Oh, shit, why didn’t I think of this earlier! There in the comrades stained hands was a detonator. He remembered that he and another had planned not to assassinate the target, but to blow up the building where all of the enemy’s were as well. They had had trouble rigging it up, and unfortunately, his partner died trying to defend the bomb. “Sleep well brother,” he breathed, removing the detonator from the cold, crunchy hands.
He had run at least half a mile before he decided to press the red button. It had taken him a lot of courage to do it as, as dead as they were, his team-mates were still in there. Au Revoir and with the click of a button, the mass cremation had began. The building was exploding with not fire, but grey and black smoke. Each floor was collapsing after another in a sequence that startled Jacques.
The explosion had been bigger than he thought. The full force of the bombs had thrown chunks of rock straight at Jacques. He dived inside a trashcan, closing the lid. First came the harsh clanging of larger rocks and then the smoother and more comfortable crescendo of smaller ones until the disintegrated into dust.
Jacques was relieved. Not only had his target been destroyed, but all the enemy’s with him. He felt a bit sad, though. Many of the soldiers that he had seen were women, and beautiful ones at that. Jacques was very respectable towards them in every aspect.
Pulling himself together, he plucked up the courage to slam open the trashcan. He poked his head out and then stood up, almost falling at the tread of his feet. Jacques couldn’t see very far as the smoke perplexed his view.
It was over. The thought of sudden death rushed over him. He had just killed dozens of people by the push of a button.
It should have been someone else. He ran his shaky hand trough his blonde hair. Until he paused. Surprised. Shocked. A man was running at him. It was one of his team. He didn’t know him very well, in fact, he could just about make out that is was one of his team let alone his uniqueness.
He slowed realising Jacques “Wh, what happened?”
“Don’t worry ma frére. It is over” Jacques huffed.
But was it? Before he could even reach the man, about five metres away, a shady, black wall stood in front of him. What was it? Jacques moved back, desperately trying to figure out what this macabre structure was. It was a humanoid. Massive, skin red from soreness and stretching. He could no longer see his comrade. But he could hear something. Something that disturbed him. Struggling of some sort and then
Rriipp!
A slash of blood flew over the monsters shoulders followed by a cold lump of meat. His torso, arms and head. There was no expression on the corpses face. Only a pale stone colour. Frightened, Jacques jerked his head to look at the giant. It hesitated and turned its head. White, gleaming eyes stared back at him. One of its eyes closed as if… as if it was winking.
Before Jacques could lift his M16. The creature jumped an incredible height, leaping onto a building rooftop and then disappeared behind it…


“Jacques… Jacques! Hello?” Jacques head reverted from the fire to gaze into Aarons eyes. “And then?”
“Never mind.” Jacques paused and took a deep and invigorating breath. “Hey, you want some beer? Homemade?”
“Homemade? Why not… I’ll give it a try.” Jacques made his way to the fridge; leaving Aaron perched rather comfortably in his chair.
“One or two?”
“Make it three!” They both sniggered, obviously sharing the same sense of humour. Then, without warning, the phone rang, surprising Jacques, making him drop the glass in his clammy hands. Aaron sat up in his chair, slowly, the back followed. The two both shared a look of confusion, before Jacques answered the phone.
“Hello?” Is eyes squinted as a loud voice spoke into his ear.
“What ho…what?
“What?”
“What?”
“What?”
“Oh, its you,” on the other line, a loud, old fashioned voice bellowed down the line. “Jacques? Jacques Pierre? H –Hello?” Suddenly, as if a broom thrust into his back, he stood dart up, slightly bent backwards. He realised his voice. It was Sergeant Major Colonel Jonathan Cutter. He was the head of Jacques elite control squad. He resumed standing slightly bent. He knew he couldn’t see him, but it was the manner of respect that counted.
“Sir,” He said firming his voice “I’m still here”
“Jolly good. Right, I thought that… as you are still young… how about doing a mission for your old squadron leader?”
“Old Squadron leader?” Jacques was seemingly suspicious.
“Err… Well, yes. Changes had to be made. Things had to be done. I’m sorry, private.” Colonel Cutter waited anxiously for Jacques to say something. He continued. “Yes, well. Now how about this mission?” This was a surprise for Jacques. It was as if the Colonel was begging him. “Jacques?”
“Yes Sir. May I ask what this mission is about and who’s going in?”
“What, you mean nobody told you? Well, the mission will be confirmed at the Briefing tomorrow morning.”
“Sir, may I ask who’s going…”
“Oh, of course! There’s Aaron Kapelli…” Jacques ran a bleak stare at Aaron, who was obviously intrigued by the keywords ‘mission’ and squadron leader’. “Um… Gareth Holmes and oh, what’s his name?” The Colonel paused in wonderment.
“Sir, let me guess… Nicholas Farrell?” Jacques had worked with Nicholas on many occasions. They were known as the ‘Army of two.’ As good friends, they had been parted, which left a deep pain in his heart. Nicholas was Russian. Ukrainian to be precise.
“Yes, good old Nick. Also accompanying you will be two females”
Jacques raised an eyebrow and smirked slightly. He had been alone all of his life. Of course there was the odd schoolgirl when he was a child, but nothing serious. He was a very attractive man with white shining teeth and clean, tanned skin. “Females?” Jacques said turning away from Aaron. Jacques had been alone for years. He couldn’t let Aaron take all the girls. Still, they’d probably give Aaron a hell of a time! Not of the good kind either.
“Ah, so now you’re interested? I thought you would be. Well, to start off with there’s Sharon Kapelli,”
“Aaron’s sister? I didn’t know that she was a mercenary!” Aaron walked over interested as his name had been mentioned.
“Hey, man, what’s going on?” There was a deep look of suspicion in Aaron’s eyes, but he knew that he was on the phone to the Colonel. That’s why he was sent to see Jacques, to tell him about the mission. He was plainly acting. How could Aaron have forgotten? It would be foolish for him to suddenly say to Jacques ‘Oh, yeah… That mission!’
“It’s a mission. Somebody forgot to mention it though,” he whispered covering the speaker, phone still firmly grasped in his hands. Aaron pulled a cheeky smile and ran back to his chair. He returned to Colonel Cutter. “And who are the others?”
“Ah,” the Colonel sounded excited. “I think you might just remember this one…”
“Who,” Jacques was anxious. He couldn’t remember any females. In fact, he didn’t really know any female what so ever. “Come on, Colonel, I just opened a beer”
“Yes, well you better not have a migraine at the briefing tomorrow. The other woman is Gina Hook.”
Click
An almost forgotten memory jolted in the back of his head. Jacques had just remembered who she was. They had met each other at a briefing long ago to do a mission somewhere in Africa. They somehow shared compassion, although they didn’t really know each other all that well. All he could remember about Gina was her swaying blond hair and cute pixie-like face. Jacques slumped his back against the wall and felt a sudden cold rush hit him. He was exited about meting her again.
“Gina? Well, I’ll be looking forward to the briefing tomorrow Colonel”














Chapter 2


When the sun rose, Aaron awoke in the bearskin armchair, Jacques laid gauntlets, mouth open on the comfy sofa opposite. He was snoring. Aaron remembered when he had previously worked with him in the past. When they set up a camp and Jacques would sleep he would have the masked expression on his face.
Aaron peered at the grandfather clock situated in the corner of the room. 11:10am. They were fine. The briefing was at 03:00pm, just south of Besson City in the ‘Badlands’: an expanse of desert, hills and mountains. He shot a stare at Jacques and moves towards the kitchen. Aaron felt weird. He may have had a few ‘homemade’ beers last night, but it wasn’t that. There was no nausea, just dizziness. He stumbled his way towards the huge fridge; his stomach quietly reminding him that he hadn’t ate last night.
“Ugh…” He reached for the door and pulled. A reassuring cold dash flew across his features, as fast as it had come, it was gone. The smell of fresh fruit and savoury delights drilled up his nostrils, the fridge very well organised. The smooth hum of machinery danced with his dizziness, making Aaron squint and shake his head, concentrating on the edible gifts that lay before him. None of them seemed to cheer him up. A few half eaten chocolate bars, neatly propped in a plastic box. At first he had thought it to be something inappropriate, but dispatched it on further inspection. A cake covered with the bottom half of a Pyrex dish. Aaron doubted that Jacques had made it himself. And many other delights crowded the fridge. Nothing suited his appetite.
Jacques woke, standing to his feet, the tartan blanket falling from his waist downwards. He was dressed in grey/blue boxers. Nothing else. He stretched and rubbed his eyes. “Aahh… Sleep well Aaron?” The unsuspecting young man jumped and hit his head on the open fridge door. A soft thud rumbled through the room. He fell to the ground. “Ooh… let me help you up there soldier.”
“Sorry… I… I… just wanted something to eat.” There was a strange look on his face before he lazily closed his eyes. He had fallen asleep.
“Jesus man! What’s wrong with you?” Jacques slapped his face, shuddering his eyes in Aarons head.
“Whoa… Oh, jeez, man… sorry,” Aaron said in a dreary mumble. Now, Jacques was having his doubts about Aaron driving to the briefing. If Jacques had it his way, he would drive. Not to mention getting his hands on that extremely sexy Cadillac. Aaron was coming to his senses, thoroughly focusing on his surroundings. “Sorry, man…”
Jacques was understanding. Although he felt rather guilty. Not only had he scared him, but he should have known that his homemade beer was not for the faint –hearted. Any way he thought he should say something. “Hey, buddy. Don’t sweat it… I mean, that beer was a bit strong… its how I like it.”
Aaron pulled a smile, covering his studded head. Although Aaron had been through a lot of pain before, his head stung like a bitch! “Yeah, well. The guys back in E Squad say you have a heart of stone. And gut of … of gold by the looks of it.” Jacques raised a smirk but wondered…
The E Squad… The E Squad!
Now he remembered. How could he forget! It was the squad that Gina was in when he had first met her. Again, the dreamy description ran rings in his head. When he first met her, at the briefing, she had dressed smartly. Small, but impressive swinging hips that burst from her grey skirt that stuck to her legs just above the knee. Beautiful blonde hair curled in ringlets that trailed down to her mid –chest. Long and overly attractive legs that seemed to be glazed in a soft liquid, giving them a distinctive shine. Wow. And her torso. Slim and sexy that made Jacques’ skin crawl with excitement, brilliantly shaped and curved covered in a tight pink striped shirt and a grey waistcoat with rightly sized breasts that seemed to say –‘hey… look at these.’ A great and soft face that you just wanted to rush your hands over that no man (straight man) could ever forget. It seemed to have a distinct ‘pixie’ look about it. A small face, comforted by a wash of makeup. Her features were astounding. Her big bright eyes, like galaxies caught in glass marbles and her nose: small and delicate.
“Yo… Jacques?” Aaron clicked his fingers and snapped them in front of his face. Jacques was staring into nowhere. Aaron thought he knew what he was thinking about. “Gina, huh?”
Jacques looked surprised. “Uh… Yeah, you caught me.” They both rose to their feet, Jacques closing the fridge door. He took a squinted stare at the clock. It was almost 11:30am. “Right, let’s get sorted. Oh, and I think you’d better let me drive.” The key to Aaron’s car was perched nicely on the marble mantelpiece.
They both looked at each other and ran towards the key. Jacques dived for them, almost smacking his chest on the sharp corner of the shelf. Aaron had no chance. Although he was an expert in combat and stamina, Jacques had proved that he could also go one better. “Yeah,” Aaron said huffing and then said in a childish voice “Just because you want to impress Gina.” Jacques already had a shiny brand new, bright orange Lamborghini Gallarado Roadster, but that wasn’t a kind of ‘woman’s’ car and he couldn’t risk it getting dirty. Jacques took no notice and smirked, dangling the key on his thumb as he made his way up the stairs. Aaron huffed and began to change into his clothes, neatly propped on a side table.

The sun was almost at its peak and Jacques wore a slick smirk on his face finally getting his hands on Aaron’s car, the dust rising from the back wheels. Aaron sat next to him, sunglasses on, head leaned back. Jacques couldn’t tell if he was asleep or not, but he deserved it. Jacques gazed upon the interior making sure it was in good shape for Gina. If Aaron let him take her for a spin. It had been impossible for Jacques to dispatch her from his mind since Colonel Cutter had mentioned her. Somehow it had scarred his mind, dreaming about her in his half –dreams last night.
It was a long drive to the Briefing, and seeing as there was only one, long, straight and excruciating road, there would be no mistakes to make. Not this time. Jacques was terrible with directions. He had remembered when he and Nicholas had got lost in York in the UK. Terrible road layout. Not o mention the terrible drivers. Still, he would make no mistakes here.
He looked at the digital car- clock, wind blowing in his blonde, wispy hair. 12:30pm. They had a long drive ahead of them. Silently, trying not to wake his companion, he slipped in one of the un- labelled CD’s, making sure that the volume was down. Then, with Jacques creating a look of disgust, ‘Danger Zone’ by Kenny Loggins blared silently amongst the wind. He turned it off and switched on the radio, surprised about what the news reporter was saying.

“News just in... a city, Irkutsk, Tunguska in Russia has somewhat had a deadly outbreak of cannibalistic attacks. Investigators have been sent in, a secret branch of the US army, Stationary Territorial Elite Mercenaries, S.T.E.M. as they are known to the public...”

Jacques leaned in closer, keeping his eyes on the road. Cannibalistic attacks? Surely the FBI would be called in for that minor case. But no. Strangely, the S.T.E.M.s team had been sent in. This wasn’t the usual cannibalism. The woman continued…

“...The Investigators however have confirmed the detection of a virus or disease, similar to the common rabies is present in the City of Irkutsk. Sadly, only one of the S.T.E.M operators survived from the cannibalistic murderers, but refused to talk. A Spokesperson for the S.T.E.M.s branch, Luke Cuffs, gave this statement early, this morning: “We are trying to further investigate this disorganised cannibalistic cult and will soon be sending in another team to deal with the remaining troublesome cannibals. Execution on sight will be an option,” Luke Cuffs, the S.T.E.M.s branch...”

The woman had continued, but Jacques feared the worst, feared that he was part of the team that was to be sent into the midst of Irkutsk, into the blackness of a cannibalistic nightmare. He turned the radio off suddenly coldly disturbed and continued to drive, curious about the strange city.

Aaron woke as the car screeched to a halt. He tore off his shades from his sweaty head and peered at the clock. It was 2:25pm. Aaron didn’t know the road, but Jacques had probably been speeding, wearing out the expensive tyres. He looked to the right of him. There stood what looked like an abandoned gas station. His sweaty, but coarse hands pushed open the door and he stepped outside, yawning and stretching feeling the heat of the sun through his black leather coat. He sighed “Were here then.”
“Yeah,” Jacques stood next to him squinting at the suns gaze upon them “The road ends just ahead, so this must be it.” Jacques stood a further step forward and took in a deep breath. The air was so much cleaner here, more so than it had been back at his ‘mansion.’ It seemed the Besson City destroyed everything. It was ugly. All it was built for was for making money. There were a mass of factories and specialist schools for the gifted there. Nothing to attract Jacques.
They strode towards the dusty door of the entrance and there were handprints on them. Jacques gestured to them and Aaron nodded. Someone had been here recently. Possibly Colonel Cutter. They pushed open the doors before slapping there hands together, disposing of the unwanted dust.
The room was dark. There was no light except for the dust aided beams of light from the cracks in the boarded up windows. There were canteen tables, red with a metal outing that stood in a neat position for about ten metres from where they stood. The bar ran all the way down the building, keeping with the décor of the somewhat ‘diner’ that they had walked into. Above them were lights, not on, but dashed with cobwebs, thick that made you want to get away from them as far as possible. A few papers and smashed Ceramic and china scattered the floor, smashed from what they used to be. The strangest element about the room though, had to be the strange scent. It didn’t fit their surroundings. It was… well, it was clean, like a few air fresheners were scattered around the place.
Aaron moved forward, being very cautious about his surroundings. “Dammit,” Aaron whispered, who uncomfortably reached for his belt. “I left the guns in the car. Jacques…?”
“I’ll get right on it,” Jacques breathed and without a thought, he was through the rotting wooden doors and out. Aaron snapped his head forward again and continued his search, slightly crouched, hands curled in front of him. What is with this place…? Yeah, it’s like the start of a freaky horror movie and something’s about to…
Thump… Thump… Thump…
Someone was coming towards Aaron. He heard it coming from a door behind the counter. Something big and… He didn’t know. Whatever it was, he was scared. He searched the environment, the possible outcomes rushing through his head.
What do I do…What do I do! Aaron wasn’t the strongest of people in this situation.
Until he spotted something. Something that rushed a sprawl of glee through his veins. There, under a seat, was a glint that caught his eye. He silently moved closer to the jewel- like reflection.
Thump… Thump… Thump…
Whoever it was, was getting closer. He reached for the glinting object and pulled it out. A powerful magnum. His eyes lit up, his heart skipped a beat. Now he knew that his chances had risen. He aimed the gun slowly at the counter door and slowly rose from his previous crouched position and reformed into a classic handgun position: both hands on the gun, one underneath, supporting the clip.
The source of the thumping had emerged. A tall, fat man with pig like expressions. “Don’t Fuckin’ move!” Aaron shouted, his heart and muscles relaxing. The man was also pointing a gun, what looked like a berretta. They both stood in a stern position that both startled the two characters. “Who are you?” the broad man moved forward. “I’ll shoot! I swear I’ll shoot!”
“That would be impossible…” The man said in a loud and penetrating voice “Unless you have another gun?” They both stared at each other, Aaron in wonderment of his statement. What did he mean? “The guns not loaded, laddy,” the man chuckled, his moustache and short beard wiggling in his amusement.
“Who are you?” Aaron seemed more relaxed and laid the gun in his belt.
“You…” the man twitched and his neck clicked “You’ll soon find out,” and with that, he raised a demonic smile. A smile of evil.

As soon as Jacques had left the diner, he ran steadily towards the convertible, breathing in more of that sweet fresh air. He paused and looked around. A tree, possibly an olive tree, big in size stood majestically against the wall of the diner. A few rocks were spread around the place, separating the landscape into sections. And there on the horizon was a car, bright blue in colour. Jacques squinted trying to see who would come this way. The road ahead ended, for some strange reason, but who would come to this run down diner? There was no sign of life anywhere except for him and Aaron… and whoever was in the car. The blue blob blasted through the heat waves and morphed into a Lamborghini Gallarado Roadster, the same as Jacques’ car.
“What the…” As the car drew near, he could see that there was a blonde woman in the slick convertible. Who was it? Jacques hopes were racing. It could possibly be Gina. He fought the battle in his mind not to stray into thought as he walked to Aaron’s car casually. Unmistakeably, Jacques was trying to create a big impression. Rolling up his sleeves to reveal his warm and sweaty biceps, clenching his jaw to create a muscular look and keeping his brow low. He shot a quick stare at the figure in the car that was now puling up to park. It was Gina. Boy was he exited. If he had a little more sense than he did, he would jump in the air with glee. He quickly snatched the guns from the glove- box and leaned against the car. Obviously posing and relaxed, folding his arms, pushing his fists against his biceps making them appear larger and more impressive than the monsters that they were. The car had stopped and Jacques was suspicious. It seemed that they shared the same taste. He now wished he had bought his car.
Gina looked at Jacques, and smiled. She was wearing shades, so he couldn’t tell what she was so happy about. She opened the door and her mouth and started to get out of the car. “Jacques? Jacques Pierre?” She spoke in a soft and light voice that rung sounds of delight in Jacques ears. By this time she was stood in front of Jacques. Jacques uneasily jumped and relaxed. He felt a sudden cold rush of worry, but also a good feeling. A feeling of relief.
“Mrs… Hook?” Jacques was confused and not too confident. He didn’t even know if mentioning her name to her was the right thing to do.
“Oh, my God! Jacques, I…” Gina paused… “Shall we?”
She gestured towards the cabin and began to walk. All Jacques could think about was how he would win her back. Somehow get her to like him again. But, although he didn’t know it, Gina felt the same way about Jacques. She wanted him. And not only for the kissing either!
Jacques jolted himself upright and ran towards Gina’s side. As he did so, time decided to slow down, swinging her hips in tight denim jeans and waving her straightened blonde hair. She turned her head to the side and from what Jacques could see, she lifted an embarrassed smirk. Her face was so soft. It looked like no makeup had been applied and her cheeks seemed to just rest below her eyes.
As Jacques caught up with her, she removed her shades revealing bright blue eyes and small pupils. They looked at each other and turned their heads away immediately as if caught stealing a biscuit from the barrel.
Then, then, they stopped.
Emotionless.
Expressionless.
A gunshot echoed from the diner. The two stunned characters peered into each others now darkened eyes and then ran as fast as they could, arms swaying, to the entrance of the diner.

Aaron fell backwards. A shot taken to the chest. He thought he was done for
“I can’t take it anymore!” the strange figure shouted, his eyes widening in anger, drool dripping from his mouth. His gun was now at his sweaty bald head. He softened his tone into a whimpering cry “I can’t take it anymore… I… Cant…”
Before Luke could finish, the doors to the front of the diner flew open. And there, two silhouettes of a man and a woman stood, startled.
“Aaron!” one of them shouted
“Jacques, you have to get out of here…” Jacques looked deep into Aaron’s eyes of worry, but was shaken by the strange rumbled gurgling that came from the man that stood in front of the three. A thrill of coldness filled the room. A sudden chill whipped through the diner carrying with it dust and an empty crisp packet. Everything started to shake and the man that stood in front of them started to spasm.
“Jacques, look!” Gina shouted amongst the demonic roaring. The man began to twitch and grow. Grow. Grow. The stretching of skin creaked and slimy liquid spurted from the flailing limbs. The spasm had stopped and what had seemed to be a man was now a nine foot monster, standing there, limbs red and stretched, arms almost touching the floor.
Motionless.
It raised its head and opened its eyes. Shining white beads, glinting in the dark atmosphere.


The beast is back!