NationStates Jolt Archive

OOC: If you want to see the OOC thread...
http://www.nationstates.net/forum/viewtopic.php?t=118813&start=20
All issues will be taken up there, blah blah blah. If you want to join, then I'm sure it could be arranged, but bring it up in that thread. We'll see if we can incorporate a character for you.

And now, without further ado, the continutation of the movie which ended so vaguely, and probably one of the greatest horror movies of all time, The Thing.

IC:

Several months had passed since the last transmission from the ASW geographical research station positioned in Antarctica. The summer months had closed, and the shortening days of the autumn period were near over. Winter in Antarctica was imminent.

In the summer months, radio transmissions via satellite were almost always possible for the level of technology permitted for the institutions. According to standard operating procedures, all staff and crew were to be accounted for at the end of every month, and to send transmissions back home regarding all progress in research.

Regarding the nature of the institution, researching geological and meteorological occurences in the region, brought little to no attention to the eyes of the corporate government, until a series of very disturbing transmissions came from the base nearing the close of November.

[code:1:85d16edb31]

Hello? Is... out there? This is Al... Stei...er of the research... -tute of Or... We're locat... 667-223... Alph... ASW standard coordinates. Our station is... attack by... alien... thing... we've been holding... five months... most... dead and no one... who might be infected. We need... evacuation or... dead. We don't know... consequences will be... infected get... land. This is... utmost significance. The... afraid of... flame. Bring... -throwers and incen-... If you... allow no... to escape.

Repeat, Is...

-END SIGNAL-

[/code:1:85d16edb31]

At dawn the next day, a rescue team was to be dispatched.

---

Alex stood alone in the radio room, his head hunched over the receiver. Laced to his back was a flame thrower. The fuel gauge on it displayed that it was almost completely full. The base he had been in was entirely trashed, and the cold was blowing in. Alex hadn't slept for days, and had been trying to contact people in the incoming winter white-out expected to come. A few days ago, he remembered bursting out at one of his old friends, who turned out to be a thing the very next day.

I CAN'T CONTACT SHIT! I'VE BEEN TRYING TO FOR DAYS! echoed through his mind, as he remembered his last conversation with what appeared to be his comrade. YOU THINK YOU CAN DO IT? JUST GO AHEAD AND TRY! YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW HOW TO OPERATE YOUR HANDGUN!

Why he kept persisting, for so long on end was discouraging to him. It was amazing, to, how that thing, whatever the Hell it was, was capable of burning through a research base of over 40 scientists so quickly. At first, no one thought about it, until people started to disappear one by one into the snow, and then gradually, the radios died. The helicopters were destroyed, and then the thing was discovered. After that, no one knew what to think.

Ever since they saw one of their chief geological researchers explode open and attack a sealed off room full of researchers, no one had been the same. There were few survivors left. Alex didn't even have a clue how many. All he wanted was to escape that base before whatever the hell it was got to him and killed him. He remembered the screams of one of the medical staff as he was killed: Don't let it reach the mainland.

As he stood hunched over the radio, footsteps echoed in the hallway behind him. He clicked on his flamethrower, and pointed it at the doorway.

"Who's there?"

Shea was woken from a perfectly sound sleep. Blinking, she wasn't certain if the room was really that dark, or if maybe she was still half-way asleep. Fumbling in the dark, she clicked on a bedside lamp and soon realized that the phone was ringing.
Rolling over, she snatched the reciever from its cradle and uttered a "hello" so gravelly and sleep-laced from the sudden change in consciousness, she barely sounded human, let alone female. After a moment, she sat bolt upright, instantly awaken by the words of her late night caller.
"Yes...I understand...right...yes sir. First thing. ...yes sir. G'night sir."
With a groan of sleep-deprived protest, she set the phone back in its cradle and ran her hands through her short blonde hair. Worried about what the glowing red digits might reveal, she glanced at the clock. 3am. She'd be Antarctic-bound in three hours. Duty calls, she thought ruefully, and clicked off the light to gain another hour of precious sleep before she had to get up and ready to go. She was needed for a rescue team. Something about the old ASW base. She'd been told to bring incendiary grenades, among other munitions, but that was all she knew. She presumed she'd be filled in on the flight, and settled into sleep.

(OOC: My character is a loner about five miles south of the old ASW base...)

Henri Lafayette sat in his heavy tent outside in the freezing cold of Antartica, going over his collected data. A world-renowned atmospheric researcher, Henri was tasked with investigating the effects of global warming on the atmosphere and the ozone layer above Antartica. Turning on his computer, Henri began to check over the atmospheric readings he had been receiving from weather balloons floating above him. Satisfied that everything was working perfectly, Henri moved into his thermal sleeping bag and fell promptly to sleep.

The footsteps from the hallway came closer, but started to sound more like animal paws scuttling on pavement. Someone let the dogs out of the kennel, Alex thought, as the blood roaring through his skull started to settle down.

Alex lowered his flame thrower, and the sight of a dog's head rounded the corner. As it dragged itself in, after, though, the body was deformed. A swelling mass of pulsating life, lifted above the ground on spindly legs, whip-like strands slapping against the walls and floor. Alex leveled his flamethrower. Squeezing back on the trigger unleashed a jet of flame at the dog, and a roar, almost of demonic proportions left the dying 'animal'. Alex fired again, and a sound of a large bubble popping could be heard as a part of the body exploded from the head. With what appeared to be a sigh, the thing dropped to the ground, and set in a burning heap. A few seconds later, Alex ran over to a fire-extinguisher positioned on the wall, and put it out. If he didn't the whole base would have burned.

The dog was out in a few minutes, and Alex turned off the fuel jet on his flamethrower. It would be safest outside ran through Alex's head, and he turned around, heading towards the narrow hallways. The base was practically abandoned. Alex thought of himself as the last survivor, the last person to be human in a base full of creatures out to kill him.

The hallway was narrow. Boxes were overturned, and some were burning softly on the cold concrete floor. Alex ignored these, and progressed to one of the outer rooms, right before the freezing snow. He slipped into a set of clothes suited for the arctic temperatures, picking up some flares as he went. He strapped the flamethrower back on his back and opened the door.

A blast of cold flew in through the door, and knocked Alex off his feet temporarily. He headed outside, and snapped open a flare, simultaneously closing the door behind him. The outdoors looked just as desolate as the inside. The snow had stopped falling temporarily, but there were numerous pieces of equipment scattered everywhere across the base. Two helicopters lay in flaming ruin. A set of sleds for the summer months were broken apart, and sluppies were strewn across the open snow. Alex stepped out into the wasteland.

He didn't know how long he walked for, but he gradually came across a tent not to far from the base. It was isolated, away from everything. Alex took a deep breath. Only a human would stray so far from the base. His heart jumped with excitement. He ran across the snow, yelling for whoever was in the tent.

OOC: I realize this is late, but can I join as a member of the Military Team?

Henri woke with a start. As he tried to reorient himself, he heard the screaming and yelling of somebody outside. Cautiously, Henri pulled on his thermal parka and picked up the shotgun hidden in his tent. Unzipping the tent, Henri stalked out of the tent and saw someone running excitedly over.

Cocking his shotgun, Henri yelled to the approaching stranger.

"Stop right there or I'll shoot. Who the hell are you!?!"

OOC: Sure, Kaukolastan, I'll add you on the OOC thread... typically, if there were more people, though... meh... welcome aboard.

IC:

Alex slowed down to a stop in the cold as he saw the man with the shotgun standing before him.

"My name is Alex Steinhauser! I'm from that ASW research institute Orion not to far from here. I was in charge of the radio transmission equipment and incoming and outgoing signals. But, the base has been overrun by these weird things, and I decided to get out of there!"

Alex slowed down, and then grew suspicious. He quietly flicked the gas valve on his flamethrower.

"Who are you?"

Henri glared at the researcher.

"You don't recognize me!?! I'm the renowned atmospheric research scientist, Henri Lafayette. I've been the ASW Orion installation to help study the effects of global warming on the ozone layer above Antartica. What did you say about the base being overrun?"

Alex narrowed his eyes suspiciously. Just who I wanted to run into... this pompous asshole he thought. Alex never did like Henri, but he was his last leg to lean on.

"The base has been overrun. I'm not sure by what, but it's this weird alien organism thing. It shape-shifts. I can't tell you much about it, but whatever it is, it's pissed off, alien, and it wants to make copies of you and I. The entire base as far as I know is dead. Everyone's either been killed or absorbed, and I don't know who to trust.

"What I can tell you about these things are that they only attack things when they're alone and close, or confined with victims. I frankly don't want to come any closer, but you seem to be my last choice for survival right now. What are you doing out in the snow? Especially at a time like right now?"

Roger Clay set at his desk, typing aup a report on his computer. HE had a small offiice, albeit with no window. He had advanced far up the corporate ladder in the Amerigan Department of Intelligence. There was a lurking fear within him--there was the mistake. The mistkake for which his supervisor, was blamed for--blamed for not checking that is. A simple error that unfortunately cost the Department a thousand dollars too many. He awaited his punishment and he knew it would come--at the very worst he'd be killed, but he hoped that for sanity's sake the recent reforms of the Amerigan government would do well to offer serious enough consequences to discourage such drastic actions.

A man in a dark black suit walked into his office without any request for entreaty--announced and intimidating looking. A foulder was thrown on Roger's desk.

***

Opertaion Ice Recon. Great. After going through an unnecessarily long briefing it turned out that his boss's revenge would be quite simple. He'd send Roger to Antarctica... probably to die. He was an operative with no field experience whatsoever. He had never even fired a weapon!

Although, other yes-men tried to comfort Clay by convincing him of the relative ease of the mission. It was simple, but nevertheless, neglectfully dangerous. Apparently some nuclear warheads were stashed on Antarctica before the Amerigan War. During the Reconsruction, they may have been removed. Well, all he had to do was confirm that they did in fact remove the warheads. There was no doubt whatsoever in the entire department that any weapons remained on such a barren arctic wasteland, however, apparently his superior needed to be convinced. Well, the kicker was that he would not be extracted from the icy hell by any federal transport. No! The budget cuts prevent such costly actions. Such incredibly costly actions.

The mission dictated that open conducting a thorough investigation about the matter of the abandoned base, he would proceed to an ASW research base, which hopefully still existed. Amerigan intelligence wasn't exactly top of the line....

The only problem was he could not refuse as the alternatives did not appear much better. In Amerigo, if you work directly for the government and are terminated, you will never work anywhere again. In other words you starve.

***

Dressed in heavy furs, Clay exited the helicopter. It was still freezing as the icy winds penetrated through the furs, through his skin, through his flesh, through his bones, deep into the marrow, freezing everything. He was not used to this, he was not used to this at all. It was night time aand although the winds were relatively stagnant they were intense to one who was used to a living much more comfortable than this. He put in on the night vision goggles and his hazel pupils stared into the barren nothingness of Antartica. He looked at his GPA system and proceeded to the location of the abandoned storage base.

"I live in the tent behind me. I believe in coexisting with nature. I cannot live with you people in that claustraphobic pit over there, so I decided to camp out here near the weather balloons. This way, I can easily compile and upload the data from my balloons immediately into my computer..."

Suddenly, Henri heard something. Cupping his left hand to his left ear, Henri heard something like a helicopter...

"Is that a helicopter, I'm hearing!?!"

Alex looked up. Coming down from the air, not to far from the landing pad to the base was a helicopter, coming in low.

"Come on, we had best get over there before they head in the base."

Alex lit a flare, and started to run back over the snow towards the base, motioning for Henri to follow.

Henri put on his glasses. Stretching, Henri proceeded cautiously behind Alexander, his shotgun pointing directly at Alexander's back.

David Forrestal sat at Killigan's Bar, slamming down shot after shot. Behind him, "One Bourbon, One Scotch, and One Beer" played. The bar was filled with soldiers on leave, and the prerequisite working girls, bikers, and rockers. The bartender laughed as he poured another whiskey shot. Behind him, three soldiers were cheering as Forrestal slammed the shot glass onto the table, wiped his lips with his sleeves. "Boom." he stated, his lip curling into a sneer.

Across from him, in the dim smoky lighting, a large biker scowled through his beard, picked up his own shot glass, and shotgunned it back. The crowd cheered as he slammed it on the table. The biker growled, "Drink, pretty boy."

"Pretty boy?" Forrestal asked, laughing. Ten years in SpecForces had left him anything but pretty. Crew cut brown hair, harsh, jaded green eyes, and cut features were fine, but the cut on his left cheek and the pock marks on his right side from the grenade blast did not count as pretty. His ragged black T-shirt, khaki pants, and combat boots were an indication of his life, as was the blood stained bandana on his forehead and the boot knife protruding, or the obviously not well hidden SOCOM .45. Forrestal grabbed the glass contemptuously, chugged it, not even tasting, and flipped it. He set it gently on the table and cocked his head. "Just give up, old man."

The biker glanced at the array of glasses before him, his vision swimming. He reached to grab the fresh poured shot, raised it, and put it back. He, trembling, put it back, and then fell from his chair. Forrestal turned to his platoon buddies. "One down." He grabbed the whiskey bottle from the barkeeper and pressed it to his lips, taking a swig directly from the source. He handed it back to the bartender. "Put it on his tab, barkeep." he thumbed towards the unconcious biker.

The barkeep grinned, "You're a real fire-eater, Dave. You're gonna get killed or get rich."

"Both." Forrestal stated, spinning in his chair to face the drunken biker's lady at the bar. "Hello, madam. How are you this fine evening?"

Behind him, there was a rumble, and the biker rose to his feet, grabbing the bottle of whiskey. "You don't touch her!" the large man stumbled forward, swinging the bottle down.

Forrestal sidestepped, grabbed the biker's arm, and twisted under. There was a snap, and the bottle fell with a cry. The big man stumbled away, holding his broken arm. Forrestal raised his eyebrows and turned to the other bikers. "Any other of you want some?"

With a cry, another man charge him, swinging a riot club. Forrestal dodged, dropped, and swept his foot, sending the second man crashing into his compatriots. "Bitch." he stated, turning to take another shot. Without looking, he threw out his arm, smacking another would be assailant down.

His phone rang. He picked it up with one hand, drawing his SOCOM with the other to hold off the mob of bikers. "Yeah?" he asked, waiving the .45 around. "Hold on, boys! I'm talking!" he yelled to his opponents. "Yeah, this is Forrestal. No, I'm on leave. Cancelled? Why the hell, Commander?" A biker charged him with a chain, and Forrestal whirled, cracked him on the head with the pistol. He went back to the conversation. "No, just having a night out. No, everyone's alive. Yes, sir. I'll report. Damnit, sir, why me? Yeah, best of the best. So what if some beaker head left the comms on during a movie? Serious? Fine, I'll be there. And yes, sir, I'll stop causing government incidents." He closed the phone. "Sorry, boys, but I've gotta go sleep. I've got a job."

There was a roar, and the mob charged him. "Fine." he grabbed a bar stool like a matador's shield. "I'll stay for a bit." The fight continued, and the guitar solo kicked up.

5 am came way too early. Now it seemed little more than a dream as she stared out the window of the commercial Boeing 767 as it cruised ever southward. The flight was destined for Argentina. An operative would meet her at the airport and usher her away to some military transport or another. She sighed and closed her eyes, determined to catnap while the opportunity was available. Just once she wished to be assigned a mission without a military of any sort involved. The fact that her journey would begin on a base did not bode well with the young woman. THankfully she would not be there long enough to be harassed by the estrogen-starved men.

Shea awoke as the big jet made a smooth touchdown. As the plane taxied to its terminal, she gathered her things, and mentally prepared herself for duty. Colonel Richardson was there to meet her at the gate and introduced himself with a friendly smile. Ever the gentleman, he carried her bags and escorted her to a waiting Jeep. Classy...

Her time on base seemed no more than a blur. She'd been whisked from place to place recieving breifings on the situation, on proper use of her weapons, on arctic survival techniques, and everything in between. She was issued a thermal worksuit which would help against the raw cold. From there, she was taken to the armory and given an assault rifle, extra magazine, and incendiary grenades. Apparantly the things hated fire. She'd remembered that much, at least, though she had not yet absorbed the surreal nature of the information imparted upon her. Her head spinning from the overload of information, she was ushered to a Harrier jet and was in the air before she knew it. She'd reach the frozen ASW base in a matter of hours.

Dimitri Popov was a field operative for the HFIA (Hattian Foreign Intelligence Agency). He had been briefed on the situation in Antarctica by the Director, after recieving a message from ASW. "Bloody hell, sounds like some type of horror movie." The director nodded "ASW sent us a transcript of the last message that they had recieved from the research station, something about an alien attack. You are to go to the base, link up with the others and find out what the hell is going on. You know how to operate a HAR grenade launcher, we made sure of that in your training and now it will be useful. The transcript said something about incendiaries so we are going to give you a bunch of incendiary grenades.." Dimitri smiled grimly, "You know how much I like setting stuff on fire" The director nodded slowly, remembering the noodle incident... "Well, get some sleep, Dimitri, you are heading out in the morning." Dimitri stood up and saluted smartly, "Yes sir!"

7 hours later

Dimitri, loaded down with full combat gear, boarded an Arctic Hind helicopter. The chopper lifted off of the helipad and flew off towards Antarctica.

Clay exited the helicopter, close by to the base. A snowy sterile building, relatively small and unremarkable, he thought. He decided that he should probably check, if the camp was still operating, before the chopper left the range of his radio.

Suddenly he saw a bright searing light in the distnace, off slightly away from the snow covered building of the research facility. A flare. Good news? Doubtful.

He proceeded to stumble forward through the thick snow, shivering violently at this sudden change of temperature. He had been to the mountains in Amerigo, only three times, and during the summer. Such blisteringly cold winds and temperatures were surprising and unencouraging. His heart beat faster, pumping much needed blood through his arteries. A thought occured to him, suddenly. Why would they need to light a flare? Why would anyone need to light a flare. What if something was wrong? He'd die! Just what that bastard wanted. Damned Morgan and his Records affairs. Records! He was in records not in reconaissanse! And now he was in Antarctica. Great.

He trudged through the deep snow, forward toward the flare, his heart beating faster and faster in anticipation. He could make out to figures proceeding toward him in the snow. He waved his arms and called out.

Alex sped up as he approached. He was breathing heavily from the strenuous effort of the snow jog. As he came up to the new figure in the snow, the helicopter started to disappear from sight.

"Wait!" Alex started screaming, waving the flare violently, but all too late, the helicopter was out of sight, and heading off into the night. Looking back, he saw the figure of a man in the snow. He approached like a dying animal left in the rain.

"You, whoever you are! My name's Alex Steinhauser and this is Henri Lafayette. We're, or rather, were researchers here. Where are you from and what the Hell are you doing here?" Alex didn't wait for a response.

"Listen, just do me and my comrade back here a favor and stay away from the base!"

Alex stopped, a few feet from Clay.

Alex sped up as he approached. He was breathing heavily from the strenuous effort of the snow jog. As he came up to the new figure in the snow, the helicopter started to disappear from sight.

"Wait!" Alex started screaming, waving the flare violently, but all too late, the helicopter was out of sight, and heading off into the night. Looking back, he saw the figure of a man in the snow. He approached like a dying animal left in the rain.

"You, whoever you are! My name's Alex Steinhauser and this is Henri Lafayette. We're, or rather, were researchers here. Where are you from and what the Hell are you doing here?" Alex didn't wait for a response.

"Listen, just do me and my comrade back here a favor and stay away from the base!"

Alex stopped, a few feet from Clay.

"What? Why? What happened?" demanded Clay suddenly, a look of panic visibly showing on his face. Then noticing the weapon in Alex's hand, he nervously pointed to the flame thrower in the other's possession.

"Wh... Why do you... have... that? What is going on?"

The small helicopter hovered 5 feet above the ground, Popov slid out of his seat and jumped down. In Hattia, it gets really cold, especially in the northern mountains where Popov hailed from. But nothing could have prepared Popov for the freezing blast he felt when he got out of the chopper. He withdrew his map from one of the pockets on his survival suit. "Okay, I am here. So I have about a 1/2 mile to go to the east." he began to make his way through the waist deep snow, as he was walking (actually, more like digging), he turned on his radio headset and sent out a message, "Anyone else out here? This is Dimitri Popov from Hattia calling..." He hefted his rifle and looked around through the thermal scope. "Nothing, wait, is that a flare? Yes it is!" He always got uneasy when he couldn't see very far in a direction with his own eyes. Most people thought he was a bit paranoid. But he thought, "It's not really paranoia if they are out to get you." As he got to more solid ground he began to jog briskly towards the flare...

The Harrier was having a tough time maintaining stable flight in the gusty Antarctic winds. The pilot had spotted a small chopper not far ahead on radar. He attempted to contact the craft, only to discover the comm line out of service. "Probably this damn cold," he muttered.
Easing the throttles back, they made a low and careful approach towards the base. On the ground, they spotted a lone man struggling though the snow.
"I'll drop you off here...that might be one of the survivors! Winds are too strong to wait..I'll have to come back."
Taking a deep breath, Shea zipped and secured the thermal suit, tightened her boots, and fixed tinted goggles over her eyes before pulling up the hood and fixing it in place.
The Harrier rocked in the wind, and the vertical thrusters lowered the craft to a height were she wouldn't break anything when she jumped.
Bracing herself for the cold, she punched open a rear hatch and jumped out.
The shock of the utter freezing wind stole her breath, leaving her terrified as she hit the snow drift. In moments, she realized she could breath again. The jet wasted no time gaining altitude, and she was disheartened to see it go. She'd just have to make due until their return...hopefully with better comm gear. Securing her weapons, she plodded towards the man nearby, and couldn't help but notice a flare up ahead.

OOC: Yay... more people arriving in Antarctica... in a few posts, we can get this to lift off the ground... hehhah.

IC:

Alex looked deeply into Clay's eyes.

"What's your name?"

"Clay," he muttered briefly."

"Alright, Clay, well let me give you one good reason why: the base is overrun with something out to kill every one of us. We're taking unnecessary risks by heading the base unless out of necessity. But first, turn around, and tell me if that looks like a man running through the snow with a gun..."

Alex pointed out at another figure approaching from the west, buried up in the deepening snow.

Alex pointed his flamethrower in the air, and sent out a brief stream of fire to signal, to the best of his knowledge, to signal that he saw the approaching person.

-

Inside the base Orion, the telecommunications were crackling. No one was there to pick them up, though. A single dog was prowling around the room, whimpering out of fear. When it heard the transmission, it stopped, poking up it's ears.

It turned, and headed towards the nearest door to the outside arctic.

-

A plane also swooped in low as Alex fired. His heart leapt for joy. Maybe his prayers for a rescue were heard.

Popov saw the spurt of flame. "Well, I guess there is someone there!" He withdrew his flare gun out of his bag and fired it into the air. He then continued running.

A few minutes later

Popov approached the 2 men. His face was red from the cold and the running. "If I had known that I would have to go through this stuff when I joined the agency. I would have stayed on the farm." Popov saluted the 2 men. "Hello, I am Agent Popov of the Hattian Foreign Intelligence Agency. They sent me here to find out what was going on." He looked around, "What do I shoot first?"

and when he got to the flare he discoverd it to be ...A CAMP OF CANNIBALS!!! he fought but they were to much fore him! and just before he was eatan the cannibals droped down dead. "need help?said a girl holding an uzi and walking tword(ignore typo)him....

and when he got to the flare he discoverd it to be ...A CAMP OF CANNIBALS!!! he fought but they were to much fore him! and just before he was eatan the cannibals droped down dead. "need help?said a girl holding an uzi and walking tword(ignore typo)him....

and when he got to the flare he discoverd it to be ...A CAMP OF CANNIBALS!!! he fought but they were to much fore him! and just before he was eatan the cannibals droped down dead. "need help?said a girl holding an uzi and walking tword(ignore typo)him....

OOC: 3 people... Alex, Henri, and Clay. And get out of the RP, Dilbert. You don't even have a damn clue what's going on.

IC:

"Nothing yet. I was just about to inform my dear friend here," Alex said, slapping Clay on the back, "about what's happened out here.

"Yeah, I'm sure you got the news about Orion under attack a little while back. Well, at that point this whole base kind of fell under attack by these aliens. The original one came first as a man. He said his name was RJ MacReady (OOC: From the movie! :D ) and was a helicopter pilot for a US outpost a couple miles due north.

"He was practically frozen when he came here, so we took him in and gave him a room. Then one day, while he was walking with the base commander, Robert Charleston, he practically exploded. There were tentacles and shit everywhere, and he practically 'ate' our commander. We burned what looked like MacReady originally, and took the commander back in side. A few days later, he did the same to someone else, and it progressed like this. All the while, more and more people became these things through contact, and... you know where it goes from there. I managed to get off a radio call for help, and... well... now you're here.

"Anyways, I'd strongly suggest we don't head in that base immediately. Last time I checked, the entire area is crawling with different things: musk rats, dogs, and who knows if there are any people in there. Any one of those could be things, and frankly, I don't have a full document of who's staff, or even know half the people of who's dead or alive. Anyone could be a thing if we come across them.

"The problem is, the winter months are closing in, and radio communications are gonna be out entirely across the continent in a few hours. It'll drop to at least -40 out here in a half hour or so. We'll need to head inside or freeze. We had ought best head in as of now and hope we can hold off until a helicopter lands, and stays for that matter, or until the summer months, whichever is sooner."

Shea stumbled through the deep snow, cursing her ancestors for not gifting her with more height. The man she had sighted earlier disappeared into the swirling snow, and she found herself disoriented with the enveloping whiteness. The fear of getting lost out here in a frozen wasteland send tendrils of fear which encircled her stomach with their icy grip. Her progress was slow but steady, and she only hoped she was still moving in a straight line. Up ahead, she thought she glimpsed a few silhouettes through the parting winds.

Henri watched the proceedings from a distance. Curious about the strangers that had appeared via helicopter. Cautiously, Henri moved behind Popov and cocked his shotgun. When Popov turned around, Henri waved his shotgun at the two strangers.

"Now... How the hell, do we know you're telling the truth? Why would some government send intelligence officers to an isolated base in Antartica such as this one? Hmmm?"

--Sigh--

"Aliens? News of the original? Right." snorted Roger, "You're all f---in' crazy. Just crazy! What is this lunacy? Maybe they just locked you out, because you're all insane? Screw this. I'm going inside."

With that he turned toward the base, his left hand slowly reaching into his white parka to rake out his 9mm Standard Amerigan Government issued CZ-85 handgun. He was aware that all those about him had weaponry, and as he assumed were quite clearly insane, which made the situation very dangerous.

Popov acted instinctively. He grabbed the barrel of the shotgun, brought the butt into Henri's chin, and aimed it at him. "Sorry about that, just training. Anyway, Hattia is a friend of ASW. And don't you think this could involve not just you guys, but the whole world. Think, if this "thing" got out into a city. Do you want that happening? Hattia doesn't and that is why they sent me. And if I had some alterior motive detrimental to you guys, don't you think I would have already perforated you with this shotgun by now?" He handed the gun back to Henri.

"Thanks," Henri said rubbing his aching chin.

"I don't know what the hell is going on... I've been living by myself for about two months in my tent, compiling data from my weather balloons, so I haven't been in the base... If you want answers to your questions, ask Alex over there..."

Popov nodded and walked over to Alex, "Hello, ummm. Do you have any data at all on these things, I should like to know what I'm up against."

OOC: I'm not going to be around tomorrow, so yeah... I'll be back on Monday, though. :D

IC:

Alex looked at Popov sternly.

"I know where there's more than enough, but it's back in the base. We have to be quick. There's a compiled report in the medical labs on some of them."

Alex turned around, and everyone followed. He swung open a door leading into the base, stepped inside, and took his flamethrower off. He proceeded to wiggle out of his thermal suit. He picked up his flamethrower and strapped it back over his back.

"It's not that far from here, but keep your eyes open, and don't touch anything alive. Do you hear me? Nothing."

The group nodded, and they proceeded down the narrow corridor, passing the empty dog kennel and some sleeping quarters. They were abandoned now, and thoroughly destroyed. There were marks of explosives on some of the walls, and multiple shattered windows.

Five minutes of walking brought them to the door to the medical lab. The door was a gargantuan steel monolith, with a shield of bullet proof glass for a viewscreen. Alex looked inside. The room was empty.

Alex fumbled out a keycard, and slipped it into a scanner, and entered the passcode: 8477-91185. (OOC: Could be handy later for the things if not everyone can enter the medical labs to escape them). A pressurized hiss sounded out, and the door slid open. Alex stepped into the sterilized room, and people followed suit.

There were a few blood stains on surgical tables, and two corpses behind a bullet-proof glass screen, behind another huge steel door. One of them was... watching Alex... It stood up, and split open, revealing a mass of tentacles, and rubbed them over the screen, trying to get to him.

"Disgusting wretch..." Alex said, flipping it off. As he said this, he came into a rather open area, surrounded by computers and file cabinets. There were a few overturned chairs and boxes, and a broken table. Alex wandered over, turned on the computer, and looked around.

"Found it!" Alex said. "The entire medical report compiled on these things. He ordered the computer to print the document. When it was finished, he took it up and began to read...



INTRODUCTION

On 7/28/04, RJ MacReady, a helicopter pilot from a US outpost several miles North of Orion was found at the installation. He requested entry, and we allowed him hospitality.

A few months later, MacReady apparently 'split' open, and attacked members of our staff in a confined room. Several men intervened with flamethrowers. Everyone in the room under attack and what was MacReady were destroyed.

We took the corpses, and disposed of the victims, determining their deaths as untimely, namely from concussions after being flung across the room. MacReady's corpse was taken for further examination.

MACREADY LAB AUTOPSY/EXAMINATION

Upon opening the body, all organs: heart, lungs, brain, liver, kidneys, etc. were present, and weighing in at normal levels. Typically, after death, cellular activity ceases in less than half an hour. Two hours after MacReady's death, cellular activity was still continuing in many internal parts of the body. MacReady appeared dead, since all vital functions had stopped, but was still very much alive.

MacReady did not appear to be human, but retained all characteristics. Further examination of the bodily tissues were performed. The tissues had begun to repair themselves, and to re-form new structures.

CELLULAR STRUCTURE EXAMINATION

The unique occurences pressed the staff to examine further the cellular structure of MacReady.

Typical humans have limited chromosomes, 42 (OOC: not sure, but I think it is) to be precise. MacReady possessed over 300 different chromosomes in one cell. There were even canine and rodentia characteristics present in the DNA. It was concluded that what we had was not a person.

The staff sent several teams to investigate the US base to examine what had happened. The base was demolished, but a tape recorder was disocovered, and was played back at the labs. It was a tape by MacReady, and discussed something regarding 'things' and now knowing 'who's human'. Needless to say, it has been determined that whatever we have in this lab is a shapeshifting organism, either native to this continent only, or from another planet.

A test revealed that when exposed to foreign cells in a petri dish, it attacked them, assimilated them, and took on replica of it until it had the opportunity to attack another. Total time required for the assimilation of an individual cell was .14 seconds. Required time to mimic the cell: .82 seconds. Total time: .96 seconds per cell of an organism. The rule of thumb does not seem to apply on larger organisms, though. A complete mimicry of a fully grown dog we exposed to one of these things was no more than maybe 5 minutes. It might also vary depending on the cell count of the attacking thing and that of the organism to be assimilated.

We also found that the creature did not like heat. We poked a heated wire in some of MacReady's blood, and it appeared to jump. We're deciding whether or not to implement mandatory blood tests on all personnel in the base.

-------

Chances of installation worker as intruder organism: 98.3%
Hours for organism to assimilate all life should it reach mainlad: 97,200

-Vladimir Karenina
Chief Medical Officer
Antarctica, ASW Orion Installation


"That's... disturbing..." Alex said, softly, as he finished. "I'm going to look up a staff list, see who's been pronounced dead by this thing. You guys can feel free to wander, and someone want to shut that thing up that was in the surgery room?"

"This is madness!" cried Clay throwing his hands up in the air dramatically, "You're all just insane! And you all actually believe this?"

Then suddenly, an idea hit him, in a different, more suspicious tone, he then added,

"One of you... hell maybe all of you, just killed all these people! Didn't you! Wiped out the entire f---in' base and now you're blaming some aline thing! You're all just insane."

A look of fear immidiatly emerged on his face. Slowly paling he whispered in a sort of whining tone,
"Oh Jesus! You're going to kill me now, too aren't you? You're just going to slaughter me like you did everybody on this installation!"

The rocking of the Osprey was hypnotic in its repetition, but to Forrestal, the hypnosis made him grimace as some piece of greasy food slid across his stomach. The waters below rushed past in steel gray majesty, while the red tinged cabin kept the visibility high and light leak low. Ice caps and swells roared past, doppler rushes to interdict the V-22s engine rumble. Forrestal watched the approaching ice shelf with fascination, all the while wishing it were just a little dimmer, a little quieter. My head is pounding.

"Are you listening, soldier?" The ISA Officer demanded imperiously. The officer stood near the cabin, holding onto an overhead rail, swaying with every bit of turbulence. The cabin was filled with sixteen operators, mostly ISA Agents.

Forrestal grimaced and nodded to the spook, "Yeah, just trying to sort this out." He paused, "We're operating black, we weren't briefed, and we're armed to the hilt with explosives and incindiaies?"

The Intelligence Officer rolled his eyes, "You have the gist of it. However, now is briefing time.

"We recently interdicted a distress call from an ASW research facility reporting strange activity. To be precise, the slaughter of said facility by an unknown force. Also reconstructed was that this force has a phobia of fire. We are being sent down to make sure that our facilities are safe, and to investigate this ASW site, to find out who attacked them."

"An insurgent who's terrified of fire warrants a Hunter/Killer Team?" Forrestal asked, trying to stop the jolting the Osprey was giving his aching head.

"This is no ordinary insurgent. From the reports we interdicted, it sounds like some sort of psychosis agent got into the people. We are conducting research at our facilities on this shore, and we don't want to get fallout from this agent. We will conduct a survey of our facilities, then head to ASW's base." The officer paused. "Forrestal, you and Tunney will be dropped on the ice shelf to recon for us. Check out that base, find out exactly what went on. We will rendevous there in forty-eight hours."

Forrestal nodded, then regretted the sudden motion. "Roger that. Search and rescue of the ASW personel, or is this an Intercept and Eliminate directive?"

"ASW has no knowledge of our intelligence interdiction, so we're going in dark. I'd prefer if they never knew we were here, but make your own judgements on civies. If other militaries are involved, and I'm sure they are, you have carte blanche. But remember, this is Recon primarily. We want to know what happened. If you want to play humanitarian, go ahead. But don't fuck this up, troopy."

Forrestal grinned, "If you spooks can keep your end up, we'll be fine." He glanced to Spc. Tunney, who sat across from him in the V-22. "Right, Navy?"

"Of course, Army." The former SEAL grinned, patting his M4 SOPMOD. "Got enough fire here in these red tips." The ammonium perchlorate rounds rested near him, and he stroked them lovingly.

The pilot called back, "Thirty seconds!"

The officer turned to the two soldiers, "Masks on. This agent might be in the air. We're going to rig into hover, and your going to rope out, onto the flat. We'll do an ammo drop, then we're scooting."

Forrestal grinned as he pulled the mask over his face, pressed his hand to the vent, and blew hard, clearing the filter. From inside the muffled rubber, he commented, "Bring it!" He checked his SOCOM, grabbed his M4, and with a last check of his WP Grenades, stood up in the cabin, holding the rail.

"We're clearing the shelf!" the pilot declared. The Arctic Osprey skimmed the water, it's rotors tilting up. The V-22 popped over the ice cliff, nearly clipping the edge, then roared over the surface of Antarctica. It buzzed along, heading for the base, snow billowing around it as it slowed, the rotors now vertical. "We're in hover! Fast rope!"

The sides flung open, the M134 miniguns ready. But there were no threats, and Forrestal and Tunney kicked free, dropping into the snow on their ropes. Forrestal landed first, charging from the maelstrom of snow beneath the craft, emerging from the man-made blizzard in a firing crouch, scanning the horizon. Tunney emerged beside him, also at the ready. Behind them, a large crate impacted the snow, and the Osprey began to lift. It disappeared into the perfect blue sky, and the two soldiers walked over to the ammo chest, sitting on it.

Forrestal dropped onto the top, watching his meters. "Well, air's clean, here at least." he popped off his mask, pulled out a cigar. He flicked open his zippo and lit it in one motion, then took a puff from the Cuban. He held out a silver cylinder to Tunney. "Wanna smoke?"

Tunney pulled his own mask free, grinning. "Got my own." He removed another cigar from his parka and lit it, taking a puff. "Well, I think we've now smoked on every continent."

Forrestal hopped up, lifted the lid. "That's not all." Inside, there was the stash of gear, ammo, and the Purple Haze Flamethrower, plus a case of Budweiser. Forrestal tossed one to Tunney, then opened one for himself. He removed the radio, closed the lid, and the two men sat on the chest in the Antarctic flat. Forrestal quipped as he took a drink, "Always wanted to crack open a cold one."

Tunney shrugged, "Bah, fucking pussy mission anyway. Stupid spooks." The radio crackled, and he turned it on, "This is Hawk Two."

"This is Nest." The ISA Operator stated. "We spotted the a small tent, seems to be some activity, located a little east of the ASW base, plus an abandoned series of other bases. Be on guard, and check the encampment for survivors."

"Roger that. Hawk, out." Tunney turned off the radio. "Goddamn ISA commo-handles. Why can't we use names? Stupid "Hawk" and "Nest"... no one is listening for our names!" He took another drinked, then crumpled the can.

Forrestal shrugged. "Dunno, but I'm about to go mark the Antarctic." He turned to relieve himself between two rocks. He commented over his shoulder, "Well, let's go check that base." He covered his traces in snow and threw the cans back into the chest.

The two men picked up the crate and headed for the base, still smoking. Despite their appearance, they remained alert, if annoyed at being dropped in the freezer by the spooks.

Shea had been following the small group glimpsed between swirls of snow, but was having a hard time keeping up. She was not a soldier, a fact clearly noted as her boots, guns and ammo seemed to grow heavier. Some rescuer I'm turning out to be... she scoffed. She'd lost sight of the lone party, but could now see a building a little ways ahead of her. Whether or not certain death lurked within those walls was completely irrelevant - for now, it was a place to get in out of the cold.

Suddenly wary, she glanced about for any traces of life. Quelling a case of paranoia, she trudged on through the knee-deep snow. She thought she'd seen people off to her left, but it certainly wasn't the same as before. Her eyes must be playing tricks on her among all this whiteness. Up ahead, she thought she glimpsed a small animal. Was that a dog? No...couldn't be.

Not long now... The building steadily grew in size. Not long now, and she'd be out of the snow.

Tunney whispered, "We've got company." The two camoflagued men dropped the crate, then went prone behind one of the base support struts. Tunney raised his eyes. "Female, snowsuit, armed... she's dragging her steps... definately tired and fatigued."

Forrestal shrugged, a little bit of his traditional rearing peeking through in misguided chivalry, "Well, we just can't let her get capped by some psycho."

"She might be a psycho."

"Good point, but still..." Forrestal and Tunney pulled on their masks, stood. Tunney lined up with his M4, while Forrestal waved and called out, "Hello! Do you need assistance?"

Shea jumped in surprise at the sudden proximity of voices. Glancing in the direction of the sound, she realized with much chargrin that the snow-borne mirages of people were in fact, real.
"I'm doing alright," she yelled back. "But I'd definately appreciate it if your friend there lowered his weapon."
To appease the man with the assault rifle, she held her hands up a little to show they were empty, and that she harbored no hostile intent.

Popov stared at Clay like he would a misbehaving child. "Don't worry, if I wanted to kill you, I would have done it already." He flashed Clay a smile. He walked over to the computer where Alex was. He looked at the screen and read the report. It sent shivers up his spine. He was used to shooting something that tried to attack him. But taking over his very cells. That really made him nervous. He began to eye the other people very suspiciously. "I wonder if those things are smart. Maybe that Clay guy is just acting like that for show. Maybe he justs wants us to get a little deeper into the base before..." he shivered again.

Alex stared at both of them.

"You're fuckin' morons, you know that? We're stuck in the middle of a base in the Antarctic with aliens after our asses and you're acting like juvenile children!"

He released a deep breath, and looked at both of them intently, a scorning look as that of a parent disappointed with his or her children.

"Listen, we ought to find those other people who arrived here. They don't know about this thing. That one soldier back out in the snow thought I've lost it... hell... I can't blame him, but this is one instance where I have a feeling I'm not hallucinating. And that thing in that surgery room pressing up against the glass trying to get us proves it."

He stepped away from the computer.

"We should best get out of here and alert everyone else. But I'm not leaving until I find the staff list and casualty charts. They have to be somewhere in these computers... you guys go ahead. You'll need an access code to get back in here should anything go wrong, though, so I'll tell you it: 8477-91185. Don't fuckin' forget it, because I sure as hell won't let you in, no matter what's chasing you. I have some files to dig through... be gone!"

Alex turned his head away, and uprighted a computer chair. He sat down in it with a deep sigh, and moved the mouse around the screen, reading over document names looking for a staff and casualty list for the base.

Forrestal motioned, and Tunney lowered the M4. Forrestal approached Shea cautiously. "We're here to help, but who're you?" he asked, not aggressive, merely being careful.

"Agent Shea O'Connor. I'm with the International Security Agency," she responded, lowering her hands. "Who are you?"

For the moment, curiousity overrode her desire to be indoors.

Alex stared at both of them.

"You're f---' morons, you know that? We're stuck in the middle of a base in the Antarctic with aliens after our asses and you're acting like juvenile children!"

He released a deep breath, and looked at both of them intently, a scorning look as that of a parent disappointed with his or her children.

"Listen, we ought to find those other people who arrived here. They don't know about this thing. That one soldier back out in the snow thought I've lost it... hell... I can't blame him, but this is one instance where I have a feeling I'm not hallucinating. And that thing in that surgery room pressing up against the glass trying to get us proves it."

He stepped away from the computer.

"We should best get out of here and alert everyone else. But I'm not leaving until I find the staff list and casualty charts. They have to be somewhere in these computers... you guys go ahead. You'll need an access code to get back in here should anything go wrong, though, so I'll tell you it: 8477-91185. Don't f---' forget it, because I sure as hell won't let you in, no matter what's chasing you. I have some files to dig through... be gone!"

Alex turned his head away, and uprighted a computer chair. He sat down in it with a deep sigh, and moved the mouse around the screen, reading over document names looking for a staff and casualty list for the base.

A strange bewildering panic now overtook Roger, as his breathing became shallow and quickened. His pupils danced around the interior.

"Oh God, oh God! I knew it, that bastard must have known about this and sent me here to die! Oh God, I'm going to die! We're trapped here! We won't be able to get out of here! We're all gonna die!!!!"

His hands were visibly shaking, and he began sweating profusely. The nturning to the first person next to him,

"Do you have a... pa-paper bag... or something... I get these p-panic attacks when I'm under... stress."

His hands were still shaking, but it was obvious that Clay was trying his best to get ahold of himself.

"Agent Shea O'Connor. I'm with the International Security Agency,"

\O.o/
~

OOC: That's mine, too! I have the ISA!

\o.O/
~

IC: Forrestal raises his eyebrows. Can't be ours, the spooks went to Ice Station Three. "What nation? What's your mission?" Forrestal's breath hissed in his mask, and he knew his Kaukolastani Bars were visible on his shoulder.

OOC: That's mine, too! I have the ISA!


OOC: Haha...odd coincidence!

IC:
"Gaeltach. We're the only station in our region..brand new," she informed with something that almost sounded like pride. Shifting her weight, she continued a bit less enthusiastic. "I was sent in response to the distress call. Supposed to assess the situation and extricate any survivors, though I seem to be doing an outstanding job of it..."

She glanced towards the building breifly and realized that the cold was beginning to eat through the thermal suit.
"You wouldn't happen to be survivors, would you?"

Forrestal pulled the mask free, shoved another cigar into his mouth. "Nah, Kaukolastan sent us to do likewise. Seems something got FUBARed here, and we were supposed to recon. I'm Dave Forrestal. Cigar?" he offered another cuban from his pocket.

Tunney began to drag the crate forward. When he arrived, he stood. "Nigel Tunney, at your service. You may have seen our V-22."

Forrestal glanced at the sealed door. "You don't know the code, do you? Don't wanna blow without having to."

"No thanks," she replied politely. "Nice to meet you both."

Turning, she trudged towards the door, hiding a look of misery with the presence of more military personnel. She'd just have to deal. Besides, maybe they'd surprize her. They didn't act a bit like the others yet, and that was a fact she found somewhat refreshing.

"I'm going to be optomistic here and hope the door's unlocked. Coming?"

Henri checked his shotgun and then placed it on his shoulder... Rolling his eyes, Henri glanced at the others.

"Now, can we get the hell out of here? This place is giving me the creeps..."

"Go ahead and try it. We'll set up a Line of Fire." Pulling his mask back on, Forrestal set up behind a strut with his M4 (the cigar tucked into the Picanny rail), while Tunney grabbed the converging line. Forrestal asked nonchalantly, "So, what's your name?" he gripped his rifle as she approached the door.

(OOC: Talking to me?)

(OOC: Talking to me?)
OOC: Me? No, I'm with Gaeltech, outside. I think you're inside, right?

(OOC: okay...)

Spooked, Henri walked towards the building exit, intent upon returning to his tent and gathering his stuff.

Opening the sealed door, Henri saw two guns pointing directly at him. Shocked, Henri dropped his shotgun and slowly raised his hands.

"Go ahead and try it. We'll set up a Line of Fire." Pulling his mask back on, Forrestal set up behind a strut with his M4 (the cigar tucked into the Picanny rail), while Tunney grabbed the converging line. Forrestal asked nonchalantly, "So, what's your name?" he gripped his rifle as she approached the door.

She contemplated grabbing her rifle, but decided that her two new friends would be adequate. Leaving it slung over her back, she looked over her shoulder and gave Forrestal a very pointed look.
"Ms. O'Connor."
She tried the handle, but the door swung outward seemingly of its own accord. Startled, she jumped back and swung her own rifle around.

edit: that solves that...

Swallowing, Henri looked down the barrel of two guns.

"Um... Hello?"

Forrestal felt his jaw drop. "Fuck." he stated. He lowered his rifle, but kept it ready. Tunney did likewise. "Dave Forrestal, Kaukolastan HK Team! We're here to help. Do you need assistance." He tried to difuse a potentially bad situation. The air was clean, and he pulled the mask away. "I guess there's no gas."

Shea had jumped to the side, and was therefore temporarily out of the newcomer's line of vision. Remembering the reports, she grabbed an incendiary as a precaution.

Relieved, Henri lowered his hands.

"Jesus Christ, you guys almost gave me a heart attack..."

Taking a couple of breaths to calm down, Henri stuck his hand out to Forrestal.

"The name is Lafayette, Henri Lafayette. I'm a atmospheric research scientist here at this base..."

"Like I said, Kaukolastani team. We got some nasty reports off of the lines. What's going on here?" Forrestal asked, plopping back on his chest, but still alert.

Popov walked out of the room and up to the exit, when he saw the newcomers up at the exit, he almost pulled out his pistol. He was really nervous. He heard them say they were from Kaukolastan. "Kaukolastani's?" He relaxed a bit. "If you want to see what we are up against here, follow me. Don't touch anything organic!"

Shea jumped once again, hearing another voice from inside. She nearly pulled the pin on the grenade, but managed to stay in control of herself. To avoid any accidents, she put it away, though she refused to let go of the rifle. Still jumpy, she walked back to Forrestal and Tunney, and lightly tapped one of them on the shoulder. From there, she got her first clear views of Henri and the man still inside.

"Call it paranoia," she whispered, "but I'm not sure we can trust them."

Alex turned around from the computer at the commotion he was hearing outside of the small computer room. Swearing under his breath, he locked the doors nearby. Back to work, he thought...

As he searched, the thing positioned in the surgery room was making more and more noise, smashing things. In a few minutes, it stopped, and the room went silent. Alex's blood ran cold. He looked in the surgery room, and the thing wasn't inside. The covering of the air vents had been removed.

"Shit," Alex swore, picking up the flamethrower by his side and strapping it on.

He turned up, and hit print on the present document, a list of staff members from the base. As the document stopped printing, he adjested the straps and flicked on the gas to the 'thrower.

He turned and ran at the pressurized hospital bay door, and stepped out into the narrow hallway, and ran up towards an outside door. People were filing in.

"WE HAVE TO GET OUT OF HERE, NOW! A THING'S GOTTEN INTO THE AIR VENTS! I DON'T KNOW WHERE IT WILL COME OUT!" Alex screamed, maneuvering through the people. He knew where to head: the supply room, the only room which didn't have ventilation ducts over it. He knew the base by heart from the past few months.

Popov nearly jumped out of his skin when Alex ran by and started shouting, he was already on edge. "Holy sh*t!" Popov pulled his gun off of his shoulder and cocked the grenade launcher. He ran off after Alex...

Forrestal glanced at Tunney and then at Shea. "What the hell?" he asked as two of the men ran back into the base. "Jesus Christ, stupid civilians are gonna get us slagged." He turned to the other two again, pulling his mask back on. He held up a gloved hand, "Alright, let's investigate this shit. Stick together." He shook his head, raised his M4, and moved in. Tunney followed with the chest.

Alex rounded several corners, with Popov on his tail. He rounded a corner, still holding his flamethrower and printouts tightly. At last, he came to a door, one that was of heavy steel and read "Supply Room-A".

Alex kicked against the door, and repeated for several seconds. A snap could be heard. He flung the door open into the room, and ran to the back, away from the windows that looked outside. He was panting.

His sides hurt from the heavy weight he was carrying, and sat down on an overturned box full of emergency rations.

As Popov came in after him, he clicked the flamethrower up and on.

"I'm not risking it. Head to the far side of the room... direct everyone to do the same..." His hands were shaking violently, and he had a sickened expression in his eyes. He grabbed his chest. His heart was giving him problems again.

Dear God, not now... He started to wheeze a bit, and then the pressure lightened up. He relaxed a bit, and stared at Popov.

So much commotion. With so many nerves being tested, it was a miracle no one was shot when yet another stranger ran screaming through the hall and the other two took off behind him. Though she wasn't sure if she could trust Forrestal and Tunney either, she felt slightly more comfortable sticking by them than any who emerged from the base.
The assault rifle sling was still over her shoulder, so she was able to carry the weapon in just her right hand until she needed to use it. Steeling herself, she waded through the snow, and stepped into the building after the strangers.

Forrestal walked through the silent interior, his feet clicking on the onyx floor. He heard Tunney and Shea behind him, and he thought. "Ma'am, you might wanna mask up. Don't know what's in the air." As they rounded another corner, they saw one of the men clutching his chest. Forrestal's rifle rose. "What the- What's going on!"

Jesus Christ, what's going on here?

Alex looked up.

"I've had heart trouble for about a month now. Bad diet, fear... it doesn't mix well... listen, get in here, get the others in here! It's in the air vents!"

What's this about air vents? Glancing around, she considered fishing through her pack for a mask. However she noticed that the other strangers didn't wear them. They were talking about the Thing then...? Taking a seat against the far wall, she felt chilled by something other than the lingering cold.

Roger was paralyzed with fear when Alex had shouted this, he had never left he place he had occupied, while Alex was at the computer, but now he found that he couldn't move.

When Alex was out of the room, the fear descended onto him in a giant wave of panic, and no longer was he paralyzed as he heard strange sounds appraoching from a distance. It was something banging against metal, and then he took flight.

He ran alone, breathing heavily, but in his mad dash, he realized that he took a wrong turn somehwere and did not know hwere he was. He had to get outside, but he was lost amidst the hallways of the base. Every pallid hallway looked so similar, and he ran blindly through the panic overcoming all logic and rationality. Where he ran he did not know, but he hoped to find some exit. Some exit, an exit outside.

The hallway ended in a dead end with only one door to the side. Clay rushed through the door.

It was dark inside, and the room was relatively small, and from the smell of it, it seemed liked he entered a janitorial closet. He shut the door behind him and sat in the corner trying to muffle his whimpers of pure savage terror. He had a desk job, once. A nice peaceful job. The most excitment normally at his job was a missing file. And the only eminent physical danger was perhaps a paper cut. He was not trained for this. He was not ready for this. He feeled about him and felt the wooden handle of a broomstick. It was the only weapon he had, that offered feeble protection from well anything. He completely had forgotten about his handgun, which he was issued.

He sat there, his imagination manifesting his worst fears. His eyes in the dim room were set firmly on the door and the inveitable doom that he thought it would bring should it suddenly swing open.

"Alright, you're all in here now, I presume... you, close the door," Alex said to Shea. She closed it, sealing off the room.

Alex turned, and broke open a box that read flares. He threw several at the people gathered on the far side of the room, while keeping his flamethrower trained. He then slid the papers across the room over the floor, and watched them as they read. The looks of confusion started to merge into those of utter horror and disgust.

As they finished and looked up one by one, Alex gave a snort and continued. "So does that answer why we're in here? One of them broke out of the sealed off surgery rooms and into the open air ducts. Those air ducts lead all over the base, and the cealing can be easily broken through, so we don't have much choice. The safest places now are the supply rooms and outside. I'd try to stay away from outside, though. It's open and anything could come from anywhere. Quickly surrounded..."

Outside the room, Alex heard a mouse squeak. He jumped, and clicked his flamethrower on.

"And another thing... if it's alive... burn it. Anything, be it dogs, rats, whatever... burn it..."

Alex stood up, and scratched his side. He turned from the group, and flung open the door. There was a mouse on the floor. He sent a brief jet at the animal, which scurried around a bit, and then died.

"No risks and we kill these things, then we can make it out of here alive and not have to worry about problems with the mainland. It's predator versus predator, and it's most likely none of us will go down. As of this point on, I trust none of you. We have no way of knowing who is who when we leave this room. I'm not even sure about some of you in here.

"Learn your way around the base. There are hundreds of dead ends. You run into one while being chased, you're fucked. Understood? Oh, and if you get touched by a thing... do us all a favor... burn yourself while you still can. I think that will be it. Now that you're thoroughly warned..."

Alex straightened his back, and seized a flashlight and some flares off the shelves.

"...we had best get to it. Travel in groups. If you get stuck with a thing, it won't attack, unless you're locked in a room with no escape. Henri, I know you, for however briefly. Primarily as people away from the base. I want you coming with me. Gentlemen," Alex said as he bowed slightly, "do as you please."

Alex left the room, visibly shaken and pale. He motioned for Henri to follow.

Forrestal turned to Tunney. "Bloody hell." the other man stated before Forrestal could offer a quip.

Forrestal nodded. "Gloves stay on. Don't wanna poke something." he touched his leather grips together on the thinsulate material. "Well, that explains the fire requests." He and Tunney began to bag the packets of info, and Tunney plugged a CD into the computer burner, grabbing all of the data he could.

Forrestal asked Shea, "So... you with us? We're gonna tag and bag the data, then evac and call for pickup. No sense staying. Just call for a firebombing." He pulled the mask halfway up and stuffed another cigar in his mouth. "No "thing" would smoke." he twisted a grin as Tunney pulled the CD free.

Shea was uneasy. She sat staring after Alex and Henri as the weight of the situation finally sunk in. She'd been wonderfully briefed during transit, but the situation was just too surreal to comprehend. With a sudden realization, she turned to the Kaukolastani's.
"I thought he said groups of three?" she questioned, glancing after Alex and Henri. "Should we be worried about him?"

"Shit." Forrestal commented. "Hey, guys, get back here!" he yelled after them.

Tunney turned from the computer, bagging the disk. "Got the data. Let's ex."

"Agreed." He paused, "Should follow the others, or just split?"

Alex heard the screaming, and turned around, flamethrower ready. He looked back in the supply room.

"What's wrong? What is it?"

"There's only two of you." He cocked his head, "How many people are here, anyway?"

"Hey," she began, looking at Forrestal. "We're safe as long as we're not alone and not confined...right? As long as we stick together...this might be some good recon before we take off."

"Well," Alex started, "There's me, Henri, you three... AND CLAY! SHIT! WE FORGOT ABOUT CLAY!" Alex called out his name as loud as he could, waited a few seconds, and then furrowed his brow.

"This is bad. That moron ran off! Shit... shit... and that thing is still in the air ducts. I'm headed off to look for him. He better not have gotten into any trouble."

Alex turned, and darted down the halls, flamethrower pointing out in front of him. As he ran farther, the sounds of his black boots and the various utterances of profanity faded.

He ran for a few minutes, and came across a barren corridor, one that had moved by the dog kennels. They were empty now, and there were two corpses inside. Out of fear, he closed the gates and locked them. He positioned his flamethrower and fired, igniting the two ripped bodies. He continued running, kicking open doors, looking for Clay. Gradually, he came to a dead end, one with a door to the left. Inside the closet, he could hear whimpering.

"You in there, comrade?"

Roger was about to jump with, joy after hearing a human voice, but then... He remembered, what he could not believe for a while and had suddenly started believing in his time spent in the janitorial closet. What if the voice outside was one of those things, that killed the original person and was now looking to destroy him.

Fire! He remebered they died of fire. But he had no fire. He had nothing that would harm it! His mind out of necessity suddenly dawned upon the only conclusion possible. It would not be very effective but that was the only thing he could do. He took out his handgun and quickly wrapped a rag about it. It would inevitably catch on fire if he fired it. Perhaps throwing the rag at the creature would dismay and slow it and allow him to run past it.

There was little else left so with a new found determination, he kicked open the door with his handgun pointed forward, snuggly wrapped about some dirty cloth, which he found on the floor of the closet.

Popov motioned to Forrestal, "You mind if I tag along, I was thinking the same thing about the firebombing?"

Alex jumped as he saw Clay come out, poiting his gun forward. The blood had run out of his face.

"Dear God, you scared the shit out of me... listen, we need to get away from here and back to the store rooms. It's safe there... and that handgun won't do any good against anything, either. Listen, there's another flamethrower lying in the coms room. You might want it. There are also a few gas canisters, so we should head there first, get some equipment."

Clay stood silent, and the looks in his eyes conveyed absolute fear.

"I suppose you think I'm one of them, huh... alright, then..." Alex reached in his coat, and pulled out a lighter. He clicked it open, and spun the flint wheel, sending out a small jet of flame. "I'll prove to you something."

Alex bit his jaw down hard, and held the lighter up to his hand. For two seconds, he left it there, and the stench of flesh filled the room. Alex pulled it back immediately, panting hard, as he let out a meager cry of pain.

"Are you satisfied?" He said between gritted teeth. He put the lighter down on the floor, and slid it across. "Now you do it. Prove to me you're still human."

Suddenly alert and curious, Shea left Popov and the Kaukolastani's and crept over to the open door. Peering out, she glanced up and down the silent hallway. Somewhere out there, she heard soft pings and ticks of metal, similar to a car engine cooling. It sounded malevolent somehow...like something moving.
"Guys, I think it's time to get going..."

Alex jumped as he saw Clay come out, poiting his gun forward. The blood had run out of his face.

"Dear God, you scared the shit out of me... listen, we need to get away from here and back to the store rooms. It's safe there... and that handgun won't do any good against anything, either. Listen, there's another flamethrower lying in the coms room. You might want it. There are also a few gas canisters, so we should head there first, get some equipment."

Clay stood silent, and the looks in his eyes conveyed absolute fear.

"I suppose you think I'm one of them, huh... alright, then..." Alex reached in his coat, and pulled out a lighter. He clicked it open, and spun the flint wheel, sending out a small jet of flame. "I'll prove to you something."

Alex bit his jaw down hard, and held the lighter up to his hand. For two seconds, he left it there, and the stench of flesh filled the room. Alex pulled it back immediately, panting hard, as he let out a meager cry of pain.


Roger looked at this act of self mutilation with a sudden curiosity mixed with some shock. He had not insisted on any such test, and it was very surprising that a person would so easily burn himself with a lighter. True, he did have him at gun point, and this was plenty of reason for such vigorous "convincing". Still, Clay had not too intently listened to what the other said about these things and fire. What if they could tolerate a small amount of it. Roger narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

"Are you satisfied?" He said between gritted teeth. He put the lighter down on the floor, and slid it across. "Now you do it. Prove to me you're still human."

"Why are you so eager to burn your own skin?" Roger demanded ignoring the request to do the same, "I didn't insist on it, nor did I suggest it. How do I know this isn't some kind of trick?"

Alex was taken aback.

"What do you want me to do, Clay?! Burn off my entire arm just to demonstrate I'm human?! We have to get out of here! This place is underneath air vents and that damn thing will pop out any minute, anywhere in this base, maybe even here, and kill us both! If you want to be an idiot, fine, but frankly, everyone needs all the help we can get!

"And didn't you pay attention during biology class or something?! Fire is one of the ways to entirely kill living cells while the organism is still alive as a whole! Not to mention, every damn part of this thing is a whole! You heard me back in the computer room by the medical bay reading the report! It'll do anything to keep it all alive! Every part has the survival instinct! It's a matter of simple logi: those cells would have ran away from the flame if I were a thing, now get your ass over here, and let's go!"

Alex clicked on the flame thrower, and pointed it at Clay. He snarled, and his eyes were glistening with rage and impatience. He realized he was being a bit hard on Clay, and softened up.

"Listen, man, I'm sorry, alright, we just... need to get out of here. It could come any minute... I'm scared, and I've been trapped here for months. You're pretty much the last person I can trust. Those others came out of nowhere, and one of them had been around the base long before hand... any one of them could have come from another base or be a thing. I saw you land in a helicopter, though, and you're the only one I'm partially sure about. Now put the gun down and let's get going, huh?"

He was talking to Clay almost like a mother would to a stubborn child.

Alex was taken aback.

"What do you want me to do, Clay?! Burn off my entire arm just to demonstrate I'm human?! We have to get out of here! This place is underneath air vents and that damn thing will pop out any minute, anywhere in this base, maybe even here, and kill us both! If you want to be an idiot, fine, but frankly, everyone needs all the help we can get!

"And didn't you pay attention during biology class or something?! Fire is one of the ways to entirely kill living cells while the organism is still alive as a whole! Not to mention, every damn part of this thing is a whole! You heard me back in the computer room by the medical bay reading the report! It'll do anything to keep it all alive! Every part has the survival instinct! It's a matter of simple logi: those cells would have ran away from the flame if I were a thing, now get your ass over here, and let's go!"

"You think I signed up for this???" cried hurt by his words, yet defiantly indignant, "You think I wanted this? Hell I've been to the mountains twice and now I'm in Antarctica! Now to add to all that theres some aline thing that kills everyone! And here you lecture me about its biology! Biology! I'm in boring government work, writing reports on faraway places! And now you expect me to be some expert on biology!"

Alex clicked on the flame thrower, and pointed it at Clay. He snarled, and his eyes were glistening with rage and impatience. He realized he was being a bit hard on Clay, and softened up.

"Listen, man, I'm sorry, alright, we just... need to get out of here. It could come any minute... I'm scared, and I've been trapped here for months. You're pretty much the last person I can trust. Those others came out of nowhere, and one of them had been around the base long before hand... any one of them could have come from another base or be a thing. I saw you land in a helicopter, though, and you're the only one I'm partially sure about. Now put the gun down and let's get going, huh?"

He was talking to Clay almost like a mother would to a stubborn child.

Roger looked him over, several times and slowly lowered his gun.
"You're right... Let's get the hell out of here." he said, then smirked, holstering his gone, "But you know as far as trust goes, you don't even know why I'm here!"

"It doesn't matter what you're here for anymore," Alex said softly. "What matters is that I saw you arrive here, and so, as far as I know, you're human. Now come on, let's get out of here.... but first, I want to see you burn yourself. Fingertips is all I ask."

Alex pointed at the lighter that lay by his feet. He kicked it over a little bit more until it was in Clay's reach. They were about three arms lengths apart, so Alex had plenty of room to run should things go sour last minute.

"It doesn't matter what you're here for anymore," Alex said softly. "What matters is that I saw you arrive here, and so, as far as I know, you're human. Now come on, let's get out of here.... but first, I want to see you burn yourself. Fingertips is all I ask."

Alex pointed at the lighter that lay by his feet. He kicked it over a little bit more until it was in Clay's reach. They were about three arms lengths apart, so Alex had plenty of room to run should things go sour last minute.
There was a look of dismay on Roger's face at this request,

"Burn myself? Hell I could have shot you when I kicked the closet door open, why would I be one of them? What would be the point. Besides, we're wasting time here. Lets just get outside first."

Alex turned up the pressure on the gas valve to the flamethrower, and ignited the flint.

"Do it, or I'll do it for you."

Forrestal froze as he heard the movement in the vents. "Shit." he backed up, the M4 flashing into position. "Tunney!"

"Roger." The other man formed up with Forrestal, the two of them facing in opposite directions, watching the vents in morbid fascination.

"Ma'am, I think we leave now." There was a skitter, and the vent moved-

"My sentiments exactly..."
With the rifle in one hand and a grenade in the other, she slowly backed into the deserted hallway until her back rested against the opposite wall. Glancing both directions, she saw nothing, and motioned for the others to follow.

Forrestal's M4 snarled, and the Ammonium Perchlorate rounds hurled into the vent, detonating against the metal grille. The impact compressed the incindiary, causing a burst of power and a sudden oxidation. The grilled was washed in fire, and there was a rodent-scream from inside. Forrestal stepped back, over the fallen chair.

There was another crack, and lights went out. There were cries, and someone crashed into a wall. Another vent fell open, and there was a series of snarling rounds that came to call on it as well. A shower of sparks, and the door came crashing down from the ceiling. Forrestal stumbled into the hallway behind as the lights went out. His NVG snapped online, and he looked around.

"Status check!" he called.

"Tunney, here." Nigel replied, standing from a pile of chests and manilla folders. "Got the disk."

"Popov? Shea?" Forrestal asked. Somewhere above, there was skittering. "Fu<king A."

Alex turned up the pressure on the gas valve to the flamethrower, and ignited the flint.

"Do it, or I'll do it for you."

"Oh thanks a lot. A lot of trust indeed!" he said grudgingly as he picked up the lighter.

"I hate to see you talk with the people you don't trust here," he said clicking the lighter igniter. He stared at the flame for a second and slowly brought his left thumb up to to the flame. For a half a second it burned his thumb and then he pulled away with a slightly singed fingernail and a bit of his skin at his fingertip.

"Happy?" he asked throwing the lighter back at Alex.

"Here!" she called from the hallway, unnerved by the sudden darkness.
She kept her back pressed firmly to the wall, as if it offered some sort of security.

"Good. I just had to make sure... I don't want to talk around with a thing. Let's..."

Alex trailed off as he heard a distant claim, and several cries. A few seconds later, an explosion or two, and silence.

"The others are in trouble. That thing from the air vents is that way. Come on, there's an alternative route to the other side of the base. We can take that and meet them on the far side."

Alex started to walk down the hall, peering around corners with utmost caution and straining his ears. For two minutes, they travelled until they neared an outside room. Hanging on the walls were 4 snow suits. Alex started to fit one on over his clothes. He motioned for Clay to do the same.

When they were dressed, he put his hand on the flamethrower trigger and pointed at the door. He motioned for Clay to open it. When it was flung open, all that was there was empty snow. Alex breathed a sigh of relief, popped out a flare, lit it, and stepped outside into the cold air.

It was indeed relieving to be outside, but the freezing cold quickly stole that brief taste of victory from Clay's lips. He was not used to such weather and no snow suit could truly insulate him from the bone-chilling winds. He was relatively tall and skinny, so his flesh was penetrated with the greatest of ease by any antarctic wind.

He realized something very important. Alien or no alien he had to finish his mission or he would spend the rest of his life in poverty in the slums of Amerigo. Failure under no circumstances was ever tolerated. Turning to his companion, he asked,

"Do you have a snow mobile around here somewhere? There is something I have to do.... The reason I was sent here."

Alex heard this and his eyes darkened.

"I knew where one was, but one of those things got to it and destroyed it. There's no way out of the base unless a helicopter will pick us up or you're willing to walk over that!" He said this with a motion to the vast Antarctic waste.

"Sorry, man, but you can't do your job until summertime. Maybe sooner if we can get the radio coms up and eliminate all the things in the base. I'm not calling a helicopter here or entering the radio frequencies into the transmitter for pickup now that there could be things disguised as humans wandering around. We're stuck here!"

He started to walk out in the snow for a few minutes, and they gradually rounded the side of the base. It was a relatively squat structure, 2 levels, covering maybe a square mile. There were numerous sheds and shacks surrounding it, and thick barbed wire fencing. The main gates were suspended open. Alex closed them as he passed.

In another few minutes, the entrance Alex had talked about was in sight. A heavy steel grate. He pushed it open, and revealed the interior: a recreation room. It was empty, except for some overturned or destroyed furniture. He stepped inside, and looked around.

"Welcome back inside, Clay."

Seeing the inside, again, Clay had a serious urge to re-enter into the warmth. However, then put up his hands in defiance of the might of such a temptation and replied,

"No way, am I going into that hell-hole again. With those things about."

"Alright, fine, I'll give you two options, Clay," Alex said coldly, losing his patience.

"You can sit out there and freeze and starve to death slowly, or you can come inside, and put up a fight against something that won't hesitate to kill you, and have a chance at surviving. Honestly, I'd rather take the chance of survival. But, the decision is yours: you're either gauranteed to die, or to try to survive."

"Alright, fine, I'll give you two options, Clay," Alex said coldly, losing his patience.

"You can sit out there and freeze and starve to death slowly, or you can come inside, and put up a fight against something that won't hesitate to kill you, and have a chance at surviving. Honestly, I'd rather take the chance of survival. But, the decision is yours: you're either gauranteed to die, or to try to survive."

"Fine, but can you at least get me a weapon that'll be effective agaisnt these things?" he agreed, reluctantly following Alex inside.

Under his breath he mumbled, "Jesus Christ, I'm going to die here..." Then a little louder than he intended his face controting in hatred cursed, "That bastard!"

Alex laughed, knowing who he was talking about.

"Yeah, that man who sent you on this mission is a real shithead. Just relax, I know where a spare flamethrower is. There's one in the communications room, and there are additional gas canisters. It's right next to here, too. And on your left," Alex said, like a gameshow host, "we have the coms room!"

He kicked open the door, revealing a room covered in radio equipment from wall to wall. Sitting near the center table was a flamethrower, and lying on the floor not to far were the gas canisters.

"And how's this for weapons of choice? There are also a few shotguns not to far from here, and a set of handguns as well."

Alex held open the door for Clay as he stepped in, searching for anything unusual.

"Oh no," said Roger in a bitter tone, "not a shithead... just a vengeful f---in' prick. Had there not been any reforms as of late... he'd have had me killed, in a more personal fashion. Just paid some guy to shoot me in the head. But, hey, this actually much worse. At least taht type of death, its quick and relatively painless. Here... I'm going to suffer first." He sighed, his expression hopelessly crestfallen.

He seemed to brighten however, when he saw the weapons. Picking up a flamethrower he asked,

"So how do you use one of these things?"

Alex pointed to two gas canisters that were hooked up on a backpack model and connected by a feed to what looked like a gun grip and barrel.

"Alright, the gas tanks you strap onto your back, like so," he said, showing him how to on himself. "Once you have that, see this little switch right here above the handle? That's the safety. You want to turn that off by having the switch facing down towards the floor, like that, see?"

Clay followed.

"Good. Now, feel underneath the tip of the barrel until you feel what seems like a turn wheel. Turn it, and it'll activate a little mini flame, fed from the main gas tank. That flame should stay on if you're going somewhere exceptionally dangerous. Alright, and then, see this dial-like contraption on the tubing leading to the gun? Turn that to adjust the pressure. Keep the pressure high so the gas will come out extremely concentrated and it will propel fire father. Pull the trigger, and it fires. ASW technicians made it really kind of confusing, so after two hours of not using it, the safety tends to automatically click back in, so make sure your safety is always off. And that is how you use an ASW model flamethrower. There are gas tanks here, and we should leave 'em here so we know where they are when we need 'em. Let's go find the others, shall we?"

Alex went over to the other door, and motioned for Clay to get in front of it and ready his flamethrower. He flung it open, and Clay looked into an empty hallway.

"Popov here, what the hell was that? Did anyone get touched?" He pulled his NVG goggles out of his bag. Popov heard skittering above him, his HAR-3 began spraying 7.62x39 rounds into the ceiling. (The HAR-3 kicks like a donkey :)) He heard the meaty sound of the bullets ripping through something organic, "Shit, let's get the hell out of here" He grabbed the grenade launcher attached to his rifle and launched an incendiary grenade up through the hole his rifle made at an angle. He began shouting something angry sounding in his native language...

Shea tried to stifle a scream and jumped about 10 feet as something bumped into her in the hall.
"Forrestal, that better be you!" she yelled hoarsely, reeling to get away from the point of contact.
With the continued sounds of punctuated fire, nothing could force her to drop a weapon in favor of digging out her NVG's. She'd just have to make do until things calmed down.

Popov ran up to Shea, "Where's Forrestal? The Thing is here, I launched a grenade at it, but I probably didn't get it, but I think I scared it off for the time. We need to get out of here, now!" He crouched over to rest for a second and looked up, "You should put your NVGs on, don't want anything to sneak up on you."

"Here." The soldier stated, his gun aimed at the vents. "Something doesn't like us. Glove up, you don't wanna grab something nasty. Let's move." He swung his M4 around, checking the next hallway at the X junction, taking aim down one of the splitting hallways. "Lovely." he stated.

Tuney grabbed the opposite angle, covered that side. "Clear here."

Forrestal grumbled loud enough for all to hear. "Why can't we just deal with people with guns? Why things? I'm not paid enough for that." He called back. "This junction's clean. Which way?"

Popov, who was following at the back of the column, looked over his shoulder. He wasn't going to let anything sneak up on him. he pulled his gloves out of his pack and put them on. As they were walking he nearly ran into the person in front of him, listening in on their conversations, he said, "Well, I say we go left, no reason, just a gut feeling that is the right way." While they were talking he pulled his bottle out of his back and took a long drink from it, "Ahh, nothing makes you feel warm again like Hattian vodka"

Shea had finally managed to convince herself to put away her weapons in favor of retrieving NVG's. With one hand, she grabbed the back of Forrestal's uniform to stay with the group. The other hand rooted through her small pack in search of that familiar shape. She was very shaken at not knowing what had bumped into her earlier. Finding what she'd been searching for, she strapped on the goggles, and turned them on. She wouldn't let go of his uniform for another moment or two, until she could get her nerves under control.

Forrestal nodded as he felt Shea release. "You got it?" he whispered.

At the other side of the tunnel, Tunney was breaking open the chest. Inside, there was a glimmer of metal, and Tunney grinned. "You want firepower?" He pulled the case of beer out of the way. "Heh." With a tap, he prodded the Purple Haze and passed it off to Forrestal. Below the flamethrower was more ammo and grenades, WP and conventional incindiary, plus the RGB6. "Anyone want any more firepower? Or a brewski?" He slammed the lid back down, locked it.

Forrestal flicked the pilot light on. "Here's your guiding light." he quipped, as he slung the M4 around the tanks.

"Everyone ready?" With the affirmative, he stepped forward, into the left tunnel, the flame bobbing before him.

"I'm alright...just a little shook up."
She glanced around at the branching hallways and deserted rooms. The place was a little creepy in the green tint the infrared vision lent, but lacked the malevolence she'd sensed earlier.
"Is everyone alright? There was quite a lot of ammo getting kicked around back there.."

"Nah, beer can't compare to vodka." Popov grabbed some of the incendiary grenades, and some ammo and stuffed them in his pack. "Lead on."

"Nah, beer can't compare to vodka." Popov grabbed some of the incendiary grenades, and some ammo and stuffed them in his pack. "Lead on."

"Empty hallway?"

Clay nodded.

"Good, I'll take lead." Alex stepped out, and pointed his flamethrower down the hallway, side-stepping in. The concrete he stepped on clicked under his shoes. A few seconds ago, gunfire had ceased. Most of the corridor was blacked out near the end.

"Hello? Anyone in there?" Alex called out, stepping with his back pressed against the wall, expecting bullets to fly out at him. He was ready to drop in case it did happen.

ASW: Are you guys nearby Me, Gaeltech, and Kaukolastan?

OOC: Yeah, we headed around the base to an area closer to you. We're callin' to see if you're there.

Popov heard Alex's voice echo down the corridor. He shouted out in response, "Alex, is that you? Popov, Shea, and the guys from Kaukolastan are down here!"

"Come out into the light," he called into the shadows. "I found Clay in a janitor's closet. He was pretty shaken up, but he's alright now! Come on, get over here! I heard gunfire, are you all okay?"

I am going to wait until they post to move, the Thing likes to come after people when they are alone...

"We are are alright, we saw the Thing I think, I either killed it or scared it off with some incendiary grenades. I don't think anyone got touched..."

"Good... listen: in the comm's room, all the equipment is still intact, and there are a few canisters for flamethrowers. We're both armed, and we've tested each other to see we're not things. Clay and I are clear.

"You sure no one got touched?"

"Good... listen: in the comm's room, all the equipment is still intact, and there are a few canisters for flamethrowers. We're both armed, and we've tested each other to see we're not things. Clay and I are clear.

"You sure no one got touched?"

"Pretty sure...unless it can get you through synthetic materials..."
She was somewhat suspicious of the two at the other end of the hallway. This place had made her a bit paranoid.
"Does anyone know if these Things can travel in groups or pairs?" she whispered.

"Probably, I guess one of them could have touched the other, and they both became Things..." Popov whispered.

"Yeah...but I don't know if they'd stick together...What should we do?"

"Let's go over there, watch them closely though." Popov handed Shea an incendiary grenade, "Just in case"

"Got my own.." she patted one of several on her waist. "But I'm not eager to go over there and risk finding out. Come on." Steeling herself, she moved forward, her hand resting on the grenade.

Alex stood still, and watched the people emerge from the dark hallway. Most of them had the look on their face that they had been through the worst day of their lives.

"Don't look so shocked; it's only your first day. I've been here for months.... anyways, the equipment in here isn't any good until come springtime, so we'll have to hold out the winter in the base. It's at least 40 below outside, so we can't exactly head out except for brief excursions. As for the thing, anyone have an idea where it might have went?"

Popov followed Shea cautiously, his hand resting on the grenade launcher...

"I don't know, as I said before. I fired a grenade at it, unless it is dead, it is probably still in the ducts or in the roof. And did you say 40 below? Wow, the coldest I can think of at home was about -20 F."

"Yeah, 40 below. Not to mention, we're in the middle of a white-out, and winds are up over 80 mph, so even if we were to contact land, there's no way we could get a helicopter.

"Tell me, do you have any clue where it went off to?"

"No idea, if we are going to have to stay here the whole winter, we are going to need to eat. I'm sure you know where the food caches are, you have been living here a while."

Roger looked at the figures standing at the distance, and turned to Alex with a strange maddening look in his eyes.

"I don't trust them... and..." he paused nervously and shifting his gaze toward them for a slight second whispered, "there's a lot of them... I don't know how long we'll be here... so the supplies... and the more there are of them... the greater the chance that one of them is a thing..."

What he was impling was disturbing indeed and even he realized it and quickly and abruptly apologized,

"Sorry, never mind... I got carried away..."

"Relax, we'll take precautions. Everyone will prepare their own food. I'll put all the store-rooms under lock and key, and ration it out. I'll also make sure everyone uses gloves when they make their food. Things will be okay. As for food problems, I don't think we'll have any. I mean, this base was designed to hold over 40 people for months on end, and we're down to what, six? We'll be able to hold out. And I don't trust them either, man. Just they're all we've got to hold on to for support.

"They were just in contact or near one of those things, so we should stay as far away from them as possible. Since we know we're human, you and I will bunk in the same rooms, alright? Sleep-shifts, too. And keep your flamethrower handy at all times. We'll make it through, we just need to be careful."

Alex turned away from his friend, and looked at the group standing in the hallway.

"Listen up, here's what we do: everyone is going to prepare their own food. I'm going to put every storeroom under lock and key. I know where we can get some keys to lock up the rooms. There's no way into any of them except through the front door or unless you burn the base down. I'm also going to ration the food. No one will eat more than 1 pound of food per meal, understood? There's also a supply of MRE's and emergency rations. Inside the store-rooms, we have additional ammo, guns, explosives, incendiaries, flares, flashlights, goggles, suits, you name it, we have it if it could ever be needed in the arctic. There are also some handheld radio sets, so we can stay in contact at all time.

"We're also bunking up in groups. I'm going to bunk with my friend here, and we're going to do shifts. Keep anything incendiary handy at all times. Bullets aren't gonna do much, but the loud sounds and force do tend to scare off the smaller ones. I've killed small ones with bullets, before, so I know. The larger ones you'll need to burn. Keep it in mind, and we can keep as much firepower as we'll need. Understood, everyone?"

Popov nodded, "Got any vodka, I'm starting to run low?" Popov looked around, he didn't trust any of them. What about Alex, he had been here for months, surely at some point he had touched something. "I'm gonna have to start sleeping with my eyes open." he though. He pulled his bottle of vodka out of his bag and examined it, it was about half empty. "I don't know how I am gonna survive winter with just a half bottle of vodka."

"We have enough alcoholic beverages here to give Godzilla liver problems. There's gauranteed to be a lot of vodka. I mean, vodka is the cheapest beverage for ASW to import, last I checked.

"Ok...so it sounds like we have logistics all worked out...what now?"
She really hoped he wasn't going to say something along the lines of 'Wait, and try not to get killed.'

Taking a couple of steps toward the larger group at the other end he called out,

"Hold on a second, who are you people anyways? And what exactly are you doing here? I mean hell maybe your just government people sent out to kill everything here, to wipe the slate clean. I didn't see any rescue helicopters landed nearby... I didn't see anything... Who are you?" he demanded readying his flamethrower.

Popov sighed, "I already told some other person here, my government sent me here to find out what was going on and if it was a threat to world security eliminate it. I was going to call in incendiary strikes on this place, but the weather isn't helping. And do you think any helicopter pilot would risk their lives flying in a whiteout like this?"

"I'm with the International Security Agency," she volunteered. "Here as part of a rescue team."

Henri yawned as he listened and watched the others jabbering and arguing. Wearily, he stood up and glanced at the others.

"I don't know about you guys, but I'm hungry... Anyone wanna come with me to the cafeteria?"

Without waiting for an answer, Henri shouldered his shotgun and walked out of the room...

"Hey Henri, wait up!" Popov followed Henri out of the room, "You shouldn't go out alone, that's when they get ya. I'm hungry anyways..."

Shea watched Henri and Popov walk off, still uneasy about the whole situation. Though with other things resolved, her confidence was slowly returning.

"I guess there's nothing to do now but kill time. Or Things. Whichever opportunity presents itself. Which way did you say the bunks were?"

"Alright, everyone, you head to the cafeteria. It's not that hard to find, and there's a map of the base in the other room you can use. I'm going to head off and lock up all the supply rooms so nothing can get in except for us."

Alex turned and started to walk into the hallway. He paused as he neared the dark hallway.

"Anyone have some night vision goggles or a flashlight or something?"

Henri stopped at a junction of the hallway, his excellent nightvision coming in very handy. But he couldn't discern what the sign said. Glancing behind him at Popov, Henri gestured for him to come up.

"You have a flashlight? I'm sure the sign says something, but I cannot make it out..."

Popov nodded, his nightvision was decent. Basically to enable him to shoot stuff in the dark, nothing more. He pulled his goggle up on his forehead and pulled out his flashlight. It was a heavy metal flashlight, he carried it around in case he had to smash something's head in. He pressed the button and shined it on the sign...

Clay watched the others walk off and it was only he and Shea who remained in the room. Roger walked up to Shea whose question was still unanswered of where the bunks were.

"So what brings you to Antarctica?" he asked casually, "I doubt there are many who would willingly volunteer to come to this frozen hell. See my supervisor simply wanted to kill me, by sending me here, and chances are he'll probably succeed." He laughed bitterly and looked about the dark room, then searched for his night vision goggles which he had not used ever before. There was a mangled sign that decorated a door that seemed to have originally inidcated that the door would eventually lead to the sleeping quarters.

"I'd guess the bunks are in this direction. Although, this might say something else... Mind if I join you, frankly its best to not walk through this place alone."

All the while he kept several paces away from her, and circumspectly glanced at her every few seconds... just in case.

"I'd guess the bunks are in this direction. Although, this might say something else... Mind if I join you, frankly its best to not walk through this place alone."

She shrugged, and headed off in the indicated direction.

"Your boss wants you dead? Sounds like a healthy working relationship..."

"I'd guess the bunks are in this direction. Although, this might say something else... Mind if I join you, frankly its best to not walk through this place alone."

She shrugged, and headed off in the indicated direction.

"Your boss wants you dead? Sounds like a healthy working relationship..."

"I take it you've never been to Amerigo," grinned Clay as they progressed down the hall.

"So what's your... rank in that International Defense... Security... thing... you're part of..." he asked not very interested, but intent on having a conversation to fend off his mind from thoughts of doom and panic.

"5th year Special Agent. Still fairly new, but we all have to start somewhere."

They stepped through a door to the left, and she searched for a light switch. Finding one, she flipped on the lights and crossed the short distance to the nearest bunk. Unceremoniously, she dropped her pack on the bed, and searched though it. Withdrawing a deck of tac-ready playing cards, she turned to him with a wry smile.

"Let's get some dinner with the others. Maybe these can take our minds off things."

"5th year Special Agent. Still fairly new, but we all have to start somewhere."

They stepped through a door to the left, and she searched for a light switch. Finding one, she flipped on the lights and crossed the short distance to the nearest bunk. Unceremoniously, she dropped her pack on the bed, and searched though it. Withdrawing a deck of tac-ready playing cards, she turned to him with a wry smile.

"Let's get some dinner with the others. Maybe these can take our minds off things."

Roger merely smiled politely at her suggestion and stood in the doorway waiting until she was ready to proceed to the cafeteria where the other were.

"So why'd you choose that proffesion?" he asked.

Popov nodded, his nightvision was decent. Basically to enable him to shoot stuff in the dark, nothing more. He pulled his goggle up on his forehead and pulled out his flashlight. It was a heavy metal flashlight, he carried it around in case he had to smash something's head in. He pressed the button and shined it on the sign...

When Henri glanced closely at the sign, he discovered that it was deeply covered with blood and gore...

"What the hell!?!"

Alex was padding softly down the hall, flicking on light switches to better see in the darkened hallways. He came to his first stop: Supply Room A-1.

He stepped inside. The room was filled to the walls with necessities. On the wall, there was a circuit breaker. He stepped over and looked at the switches in the main panel, and grinned evily.

This ought to scare 'em, he thought, his cruel and childish side taking the best of him. He clicked the switch, and as expected, somewhere in the base, the soft dying down of a power generator could be heard. He waited maybe 5 minutes, and turned it back on, laughing.

As he headed outside, something seemed different about the hallway. It seemed empty. And not too far off in the distance, there was a sound of something skittering. He shuddered, as he closed the supply room and locked it.

As he did so, what appeared as the ripped open human body from the surgical labs rounded the corner. It was starting to reform into a human, and was doing a rather poor job.

"Fuck you," he said softly, clicking the safety off his flamethrower. A solid jet of flame hit it on the 'head', and it fell to the ground, screaming and twitching. Parts of it were exploding open from the intense heat that he had his flamethrower set to. A shower of blood and gore was flying across the narrow hallway. Some blood hit Alex on the chest, staining his shirt, but he thought nothing of it. He kept firing at the fallen creature until silence was in the hall.

He walked forward, over the corpse, and down the hall to the next supply room, A-2, and didn't play around this time, locking the door. A third and fourth one lay just down the hallway, and he locked them too, hoping to get back to the others.

When he completed this, he turned and started to run back in the direction of a cafeteria. But he noticed the blood stain on his shirt. Removing it, he quickly examined his chest. No blood had seeped through. He threw the shirt on the ground and burned it, as a squeal erupted.

Close call.

He broke into a run, worried about the burning thing behind him getting up again, until at last, he had rounded into the cafeteria area. Several were sitting around a table, preparing food.

"Thing's dead, supply room's locked," he said gruffly, sitting down in a chair by the door.

"So why'd you choose that proffesion?" he asked.

"I was recruited. Never really thought about it before that, but I've enjoyed my time with ISA."

As long as I live through this assignment... she added mentally.

Stepping past Clay, she re-entered the hallway and froze in place as the lights died. Clicking on her NVGs, she grabbed him by the sleeve to avoid direct contact, and slowly navigated the hallway in the direction of the cafeteria.

"Those generators better come back online...we need to get back to the others."

Minutes later, she was nearly blinded as the lights came back, and hastily turned off the NVGs. She had just touched the handle to the cafeteria door when the sounds of a flamethrower could be heard echoing through the hallway. Deciding not to take chances, she entered the room and took a seat, moments before Alex made his unnerving enterance. She needed to preoccupy herself, and so opened the deck of cards, only to discover that she'd lost her appetite.

Alex stepped into the room softly. Shea looked somewhat disgusted by Alex's entrance, and he cocked his head at her.

"What's news, people? Look alive! We just got rid of it! This calls for some celebration!"

"It's dead? Are you sure?"

This sounded almost too good to be true. Nevertheless, she was struck with a mild flash of relief.

"Of course it's dead," he screamed enthusiastically. "There's only a smoldering corpse out in the hall!" He started laughing hysterically, bringing a tear of relief to his eyes. It did seem too good to be true, but nevertheless, the reek of burning flesh reaching the dining room only helped to further his point.

"Smell that, my friend? That is victory! Sweet victory! Smells like Bar-B-Q, doesn't it? This calls for some vodka! Clay, go unlock the storage rooms and bring a bottle or two! I'll get some shot glasses!"

Alex reached in his pockets, and pulled out a pair of keys. He threw them in Clay's direction.

"...if you say so..."

The smell was convincing, but was terribly unplesant. She pulled her collar up to filter some of the smell in an attempt to make it more tolerable. A partial success, anyway. She was still uneasy, but took a seat at the table. Vodka was sounding more and more like a good idea.

"Well if it's dead, it's dead. First break in the weather we get, I'm calling in an evac squad."

Popov gripped his rifle, "It is nearby..."

Alex cocked his eyebrow at Popov.

"And what makes you suppose this?"

"I don't know, a gut feeling, and you don't live long in intelligence services without trusting your instincts."

"I'll remember that," he said softly. He turned around, and headed out the hallway. The adrenaline rush left him feeling sick and he needed to lie down. In all truth, he doubted Popov's accusation. A smoldering corpse in the middle of a hallway should be enough reassurance.

He arrived at the sleeping quarters a few moments later. The beds were still attatched to the floor and in one piece... how customary to make a bedroom look like a prison cell. He took off his shirt and lay down in one of the beds, and closed his eyes. As he rolled over, he felt something wet on his sheet. He opened his eyes, and looked up. The room had no bloodstains on it, but he was bleeding profusely from his chest.

He got up, swearing, and stumbled around a bit, but the fear put pressure on his worn-down heart. With a gasp as he tried to yell out for some help, he grabbed his chest, and fell down onto the bed again, panting. A few moments later, the world was turning black and he lost consciousness.

Bump, I'll post later today...