SNAFU: Hunters

“I was hoping you’d say that.” Colby’s face split into a wide grin and he looked back towards Gary and Micky. “Looks like we’ve got ourselves a new team member, lads. Waddya say?”

“I’d say he did pretty good.” Gary grinned and rested his M4 over his shoulder. “Mick?”

“Anyone who can face down a Taint in full yah-hoo mode is good in my book.” Micky nodded and gave Warner a thumbs up.

Colby turned back to Warner. “Looks like you passed, fella. If those two oiks say you’re good to go, you’re good to go.” He holstered the Glock. “Right then. Get Bravo team in here to do a sweep. Top to bottom. I want this place locked down until we’re absolutely sure it’s clear, okay?” His face darkened for a second. “And get a detail in to retrieve Corporal Moore’s remains.”

He looked at Warner. “We all lose friends, mate. That’s the way this gig works. You know what you’re signing up for now. You’ve got a missus and a kid. Are you absolutely sure you want to do this?”

Warner took a last look at the pile of ash that was all that was left of ‘Binky’. A draught blowing from underneath the broken front door was already dispersing the fine ash. In seconds, it was as if the creature had never existed.

Warner looked straight back at Colby, a determined look in his eyes. He was damned if his little boy was going to grow up in a world where these… things… existed. He’d seen what they could do first hand. His first hunt had gone from VR exercise to horrific reality in seconds. And if it could happen here, it could happen on the streets where his boy played, and where his wife walked.

No.

No, he couldn’t let that happen.

He would hunt these damn things until the day he died.

Terry Warner swallowed hard and nodded at Colby.

“Yes, sir. I’m sure.”

The Bani Protocols Rose Blackthorn

Vida waited, crouched low to hide her silhouette. She leaned against a tree trunk, ready at the slightest warning to surge up or forward. Around her in the early pre-dawn darkness, leaves whispered in a fitful breeze. Insects had fallen silent, and songbirds had yet to begin their morning chorus. Still, breathing silently through parted lips, she waited.

Her heart thumped slowly, solidly in her chest. From a few yards to her right she sensed movement but didn’t react. Tighe was hidden there, as silent as she, impatient at the enforced delay. There was no point in rushing things; he knew that as well as she.

Something rustled farther back in the black shadows beneath the branches. Cautious steps moved closer, a nearly invisible figure slipping between the slender trunks. Vida closed her mouth and breathed slowly, tuning out the sound of her heart while she listened for the other’s approach. Her hands tightened on her weapon, but she didn’t arm it yet. In this preternatural quiet, even the slightest hum of its activation would warn their prey.

Stealthy but complacent, the ’ponera weaved through the underbrush on its way to the rift they’d tracked down. Glimmers of pale light glanced off its hard surfaces, and Vida followed its progress with only her eyes. Draped over one pair of the ’ponera’s long arms was the limp form of a child.

Vida clenched her jaw, nostrils flaring. How many had it brought back here?

As it neared the site of the rift, Vida heard a rustling from Tighe’s direction. The ’ponera heard it too, and twisted around more quickly than seemed possible. It dropped the unconscious child and charged, amazingly fast. A jagged line of bioelectricity crackled between the prongs of its jutting mandibles, allowing her to see its completely alien and hideous face. A bolt of energy came from Tighe’s position, which the ’ponera dodged.

Fast; it was so fast! Vida was up on her feet, her hands moving to complete the circuit that armed her rifle. The hum was low, but still caught the monster’s attention. Dodging Tighe’s shots, it jagged toward her. Vida threw herself sideways, twisting her left palm on the tech etchings. She rolled as the ’ponera launched at her. Tighe’s last shot glanced off the creature’s carapace and ricocheted past Vida’s head. The ’ponera fell toward her, two sets of serrated limbs reaching to rip at her. She pulled the rifle up and fired point blank, a dozen projectiles hammering at and then into its broad thorax. The rounds were hot, cauterizing as they passed through; but such rapid fire in such close quarters meant she got the messy end of the blowback. The ’ponera’s momentum carried it past her and it crashed into the underbrush and moved no more.

“You okay?” Tighe asked, his gun still held at the ready as he stared down at her.

“Yeah,” she said, turning her head as she spat. “Bug guts are my fave.”

His grin was wide and white. He didn’t comment, just reached out a hand to pull her up. “Nice center mass.”