For The Record… Mikepool vs Canine RPG

“Look the situation is this.” The lieutenant paused to see if the soldiers surrounding him were listening to him. Each of the battle-hardened warriors were paying attention, but they all had the look of disappointment and sadness on their faces as they were ordered to muster in the forward HQ (which was really a cluster of market tents connected together) after just returning from a mission that cost the life of their youngest member. “Fourteen minutes ago, a First Recon team lead by Staff Sergeant Harris was engaged by an unknown enemy in this district.” The Lieutenant pointed towards a city map that rested on the table in between him and the soldiers. The section the Lieutenant’s finger rested on was marked with red and black ink, meaning it was heavily controlled by insurgents. “Sir, that’s a bad F***’in neighbourhood.” One of the soldiers responded as he leaned against the table, studying the map. “Yeah it is Sergeant. Anyways, First Recon requested for support and that’s your squad. Move out.”

“Fall back to the garage!” Staff Sergeant Harris shouted, ordering his remaining men as they continuously fired their weapons down the alley at a singular humanoid form a hundred yards away, that was charging towards them using its hands and feet. “Where’s the F***’in support?” One of the squad members cried out as he turned and ran towards the garage, firing blindly behind him as he tried to regroup with his squad mates. As he continued towards the garage, the soldier looked over his shoulder to catch another glimpse at the being, but it had disappeared. The soldier stopped and turned around, looking through the scope of his rifle. “It’s gone!” He spoke into his headset. “Are you sure?” A static-enriched voice echoed into the small speaker on his right ear. The soldier concentrated his sight down the seemingly abandoned narrow lane. “Yeah it’s gone!” “Well hustle it to the garage now! Just in case!” The lone soldier understood what the Sergeant was implying, so he sprinted towards the garage, aiming his weapon in different directions, praying that he won’t fall prey like two of his fellow members earlier. A few minutes passed that felt like an eternity to the man before safely making his way to the garage. “Give me a sit-rep.” The Harris spoke as the final member re-joined. “I’m okay, ammo’s good. No grenades.” “Yeah I’m alright too, two mags left. No grenades either.” “I’m f***’ed up but okay. Enough ammo, but I’m out of grenades too.” Harris bit his lip in concern; he was hoping at least one of them would have grenades. The 5.56 casings from their weapons were ineffective against the thing and support was over an hour away. “We’ll have to wait it out… Jesse, cover the window facing east. Tony cover the one facing north. Chris, you and I will take care of the front door. We’re gonna..” “Survive this? No.” The voice that interrupted Harris came from a darkened corner behind him and before he could turn to see, a pair of serrated claws drove through his chest. Within seconds, the garage turned into a bloody mess as the remaining members of First Recon decorated the walls and floors with their blood and body parts.

Mike sat outside a cafe in Kabul frequented by private contractors, Mike was there scoping out the competition. Frankly he wasn't impressed.  
 
"What ever happened to quality mercenaries?"  He said quietly, apparently not quiet enough, several men at a nearby table turned and glared at him, Mike grinned, trying to avoid a fight.  
 
"Afternoon fellas" The mercs stood from their table and walked towards him "Could have sworn you just insulted us pal..." one of the larger mercs sneered "Maybe we should teach you a lesson..." Before Mike could respond two of the contractors had grabbed him and were dragging him around back, Mike just smirked. "You won't be smiling when we finish with you" said one of the mercs  
 
"Awww fella's did I hurt your feelings?" grinning, they dropped him and he stood up, only to receive the butt of an AK-47 to the jaw 
 
"OK, now your dead..." they laughed at him and pointed their weapons at him 
 

2 minutes later 

15 Minutes Later 

The disturbed look on Sergeant Robert’s face revealed everything as he left his squad outside to investigate the site of the attack. The scene was horrific, even to a man like Roberts who had seen his friends and fellow soldiers slowly mutated and killed by mustard gas attacks back in the Gulf War, twenty- years ago. He looked over to a Merc at the other side, overhearing the man discuss the situation to one of the MP’s. “Nothing human did this.” The merc’s voice carried from the private conversation to Roberts’ ears. “What the hell?” He muttered, unintentionally repeating the words out of a surprised reaction.  The MP turned towards the rest of the men inside. “Alright, move out!” He barked, ordering the men the leave in which they all cooperated despite their curiosities’ about the situation.

Outside, Roberts re-joined his men, who were already aware to what happened. The questions: “What did it?” “How many died?” “How is that possible?” “What is going to happen?” “Are we going after it?” Echoed inside the troubled sergeant’s head as his men continuously spoke out of order. “Whoa, settle down. I’m gonna found out everything.” Roberts responded to all the questions with a quick sentence, immediately silencing the young group of soldiers before walking away to approach the MP that talked to the Merc.

“Sir, do we know what did this and who’s going after the thing responsible?”

“I’m sorry sergeant, this situation’s now become a classified matter and we officially have no jurisdiction.”

Roberts, frustrated with the answer, stepped closer to the MP. He already knew what that meant and being a true, patriotic and loyal soldier, Roberts wasn’t going to allow a man hired by the military to handle it. “Those are our men in there… Our men...  Not some locals, not some allied soldiers from another country, not some mercenaries, but our men. Classified or not, this is a personal matter and I’m not going to allow some outsider who’s good with a gun bring this thing down. Justice has to be dealt by an American soldier.”

“That was a nice speech sergeant and I fully agree with you but my hands are tied.” The MP responded, although sympathetic to Roberts, he could not disobey orders. “Dismissed.” The MP finished and turned to another soldier who patiently waited until the discussion was over.

Roberts felt sick, but determined to stop whatever attacked his fellow soldiers, he owed that much to each of them even if it meant disobeying orders for the first time in his military career. He walked back over to his squad, this time none of them were speaking; they all quietly waited for what their leader was to say. “Grab your gear men, were going hunting.”

Nearly four miles away, the being that was responsible for the vicious attacks had finally stopped fleeing, as he approached the front of a small house in what seemed to be a deserted neighbourhood. Holding onto four bodies over his shoulder with one hand, he slammed his other hand twice against the surface of the poorly constructed door and waited. “How many did you bring?” A muffled voice came from inside. “Four…”

The door slightly opened and part of a Caucasian face peeked from the opening. “Well?” The voice was clearer and revealed a British accent. “The passcode is Bad Mojo.” The man impatiently responded, irritated by the excessive weight on his shoulder and the British man’s procrastinating. “Alright Canine, Come in.”

Mike made his way through the alleyway, listening closely for anything out of the ordinary, he stopped where two of the alleys crosses and looked down, in front of him was a puddle of blood.  
 
"Ding Ding Ding, I do believe we have a winner..." Continuing down the Alley into a deserted Market, that was usually filled with people this time of day  
 
Mike continued to on, following a trail of blood drops down the street about one hundred yards until they disappeared  
 
"Well damn..." Looking around  
 
He looked down an alleyway to his left and saw an over turned trash can... with a corpse draped over it. "If I were anywhere else that might seem a tad bit out of place... well maybe not Detroit"  
 
As he raises the rifle and makes his way toward the body, alert for an ambush... nothing... He crouched and examined the body, he'd been killed in a similar way to the soldiers back in the garage.  
 
"Poor Bastard"  
 
Suddenly he felt the barrel of a rifle pressed against his head "Go home Merc, this is our fight"  
 
"You wanna die like your friends back there?" the muzzle was pressed into his temple "Is that a threat bub?"  
  
Mike sighs "Alright.... prick" before vanishing from sight, unbeknownst to the soldiers he teleported to the roof top above them and was silently making his way down the row of homes "Suckers..."  
 
"Where the hell did he go?" The others shrugged, looking around confused.  
 
Five minutes later Mike stood on the roof of a three story home, scanning the surrounding area via a pair of binoculars for his target when something caught his eye.  
 
"What do we have hear" zooming in in time to see a figure enter a home, several bodies draped over his shoulder. "Is that? Nah... couldn't be... is it?"  
 
Hoping down he cautiously makes his way to the front door, avoiding the windows, he removes a small breaching charge from a pouch and places it on the door, knocking twice, waiting until he heard someone speak from the other side before detonating the charge, splintering the door. Mike rolled in, coming up in a crouch, assault rifle ready, a unfamiliar man lay dead nearby, killed by the force of the blast. "Come out, Come out where ever you are..." 

"Just put them in the corner near the candles." The British man pointed to Canine's right then disappeared into the darkness of another room. Fulfilling the request, Canine dropped the bodies in the appropriate spot and stretched his back, feeling each subsequent crack as he leaned further and further. He then shifted his attention towards the darkened room, watching the man grab a couple of folders without any trouble in the pitch black then joined Canine back into the light. The British man was well into his fifties. He was slightly bald and wore a pair of wire-frame glasses and a lab coat.

"Hmph, your eyes are not like mine and yet you see perfectly in the dark. So let me guess, years of practice?" Canine was curious and a joke usually got him closer to the answers he wanted whenever asking the scientist questions. "I wasn't really looking, I've been in that room so many times i remember where everything is so if I closed my eyes I would get the same result." The scientist responded in a gleeful manner, handing one of the folders to Canine who immediately opened it.

"Makes sense. What are we-" A light knock came from the entrance, interrupting Canine. The scientist then placed the remaining folders on the nearest table and began to approach the door. "Just read it and don't ask any more questions. I'll get rid of whoever's trying to sell their goat or cow... It's always someone trying to sell me something thinking im a 'rich white man' well im not" Canine smirked then began to study the sheet.

"Who is it?" The scientist asked from behind the door only to be answered by the crushing blast of an explosive charge, sending fragments of the door and a large fireball colliding into his frail body. Canine was met with the same answer as the force knocked down with a bookcase falling on top of him.

"Come out, Come out where ever you are..." The voice wasn't the scientist's but definitely familiar. Although pinned down, Canine was able to pull himself out fairly quickly and rise up to feel a gun barrel press against his forehead. "Thats' not a good idea." Canine muttered, in an uncomfortable state, hands raised to the same height as his head.