A simple PRT agent.
And yet, an exception.
And yet, an exception.
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Exception
- Thread starter Hazmat Man
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Last place you want to be
"Right, Seven, remind me, what are the target's powers?"
Seven, nicknamed because he was the seventh squad member had an answer primed and ready.
"Some sorta object displacement power, 'ccording to what we can get, right?"
"Right. And while it would be best to have another mover for Endbringers and the like, this one has shown willingness to displace more than 246 hundred upper torsos. Command is hovering over that kill order."
Three took in a deep breath.
"A kill order, sir?"
One paused. "Kill orders exist and are used, Three. But our job isn't to deal with them. Our job is to evacuate civs and then get the hell out of there. Command doesn't want more PR loss."
"Command cares for people." Three's rebuttal was expected.
"Shut up, Three. Only reason I'm still here is that paycheck." Two's dead-tone voice was something most squad members were used to by now. Only Eight seemed to jump at its sound, to Two's great amusement.
"Well. Lets get in, and get out then." Seven said.
"Yeah." Seven was still a mystery to the squad members. Two seemed incapable of making of making a sarcastic remark to him. Nothing more special though. One, Two and 4 likely held more combat prowess. He was respectful and followed orders.
4 snorted. "Another day sifting through the mess, hoping we don't get noticed by the big, scary, parahuman. Despite being anti-cape grunts." She was the only female among them. Five had tried to flirt with her, but after many years with no results, one day he went too far and ended up with both arms dislocated. It also happened to be Eights first day as part of the squad when that... incident happened, so Eight was deathly afraid of her.
Eight found himself afraid of many things.
She also happened to be responsible for a death of a decently powerful parahuman. That had made her a legend.
Six was a joke. Mostly because he died before any of them could meet him. Three claimed that Command tried its best, but Three was Three. Many thought he looked up to the PRT way too much.
"Ah, that's our stop. Come on, PRT agent squad 47, off we go."
It ended badly.
Seven crawled on the ground. Why did that cape just have to be there, anyway?
His squad mates got away safe and sound, thankfully. Well, at least he thought so. Well, most of them, anyway.
He glanced at Three's lower body, blood stil seeping out from the hips. His upper body probably communicated disbelief, or betrayal, what with his faith in the PRT's "phenomenal" care for its agents. Or maybe it just had shock on it. He would likely never know. This cape could probably transport things safely, but that wasn't the intent, was it?
He kept crawling. He wasn't hurt, but if that cape noticed him he was likely dead. So he kept crawling.
"Oh ho ho~ Someone's trying to escape, huh?"
Aaaaaand he failed. Damn. He slowly stood up, hands behind his head.
"Well, how do you feel if I sent away your lower body to my 'body storage place', instead of the upper one?"
Seven looked at the mass of hips sprouting legs and spurting blood. Maybe that would be preferable.
"Have you ever even tried to transport a living human being safely?"
The cape guy paused. "No. I have done so with objects... but humans? Safely?!"
He smiled. "Good idea! Lets do that!"
And Seven found himself about a step to the side suddenly, proving that yes, he could be transported safely.
The Jack Slash wannabe laughed. "Goody! It works."
Seven wanted to get out of this alive. His survival intent brain was chugging. Why was the cape humouring him anyway?
"So, you transport it to a specified place in mind?"
"Yes? Your point?" Mr. I-make-people-half-of-what-they-used-to-be-Cape was starting to sound bored. Which was bad. Very bad for his health. "Are you going to give me the whole join us spiel? If you do, I'll tear you to pieces."
"No no no, just..." He was using maximum brain power now. "Have you tried sending them somewhere..." He thought harder. This could either end really badly or really well. He hoped well, but badly was more like it.
"Have you tried sending them somewhere... unspecified? Like you weren't thinking where they should go?"
The cape froze, shocked. Then seemed to slowly transition to his old smiling state.
"I like that idea."
Where was he?
In a bathroom of sorts, far as he could tell.
He tried to rub his head, though only hit his standard PRT gas mask. It struck him how much it looked like a PBF but with detachable filters. It was an "experiment" that his squad was a part of, but it likely wouldn't do much good and would likely be opted out for the cheaper reflectable visor.
He couldn't see his eyes through the two round holes covered with reflective glass.
He was getting distracted. He had to get out and return to his squad. He was lucky he wasn't flung into space or something worse.
He got out of the bathroom. He was.. in some sort of meeting room. The bathroom connected to the meeting room? Damn. Awkward moments were had here, that was for sure. The builder must have had a sense of humour. It was made out of brown wood, as was the table. The chairs looked like normal office seats.
Wait.
There was a gun on the table.
He had lost most of his firearms, except the crappy makarov that was only fit to eliminate future offspring.
But on the table was a TOZ-34. Over and under barrel, good range. Two shots. A hunting shotgun. Warsaw pact. A shotgun shell box he could fit on his back beside it.
It would do. How it even got there he was not going to question yet. Hopefully his superiors would forgive.
He moved and picked it up examining it-
It was stained in blood.
He lurched away from it, still holding it in his hands.
That was definitely blood, not ketchup. How did it get there? The question seemed more important now.
He was answered in a unique and dreadful way.
The sound of footsteps- no, something else was his answer.
He was alert immediately, and checked that the shotgun was loaded.
It was. Good.
And bad. The shotgun didn't have a chance to be used at all, despite being bloodstained.
The steps came closer.
He was by the corner of the meeting rooms opening, his gun ready.
And out came a Nilbogian nightmare.
It was as though someone thought that wolves just needed to be mutated. Parts of its fur looked fallen out. It was a deathly grey, as though it hadn't eaten in months. Teeth were sharp. And fangs, though he didn't know why. Why have fangs when you could use canines, like all humans and normal wolves?
It was only slightly shorter than him. It looked to the side, noticed him, and leaped toward him. He pulled the trigger. The wolf-thing was knocked back and fell to the floor, dead on the spot.
He started quickly reloading the TOZ. It was good that it wasn't immune to lead.
His heart pounded and he was barely able to stop himself from panic.
Where was he?
He walked out of the meeting room, and on the top of the doorless entrance was 'Elllisburg Office 14'
And immediately wished he had stayed at home.
He was probably dead.
Nilbogian horror, huh? He thought and slowly looked to the recently deceased body.
The one of in which he now had an idea of its origin.
Authors Note:
A short beginning chapter.
I intend to make longer ones.
An idea that circled through my head for a while. I will try to implement it well.
Seven, nicknamed because he was the seventh squad member had an answer primed and ready.
"Some sorta object displacement power, 'ccording to what we can get, right?"
"Right. And while it would be best to have another mover for Endbringers and the like, this one has shown willingness to displace more than 246 hundred upper torsos. Command is hovering over that kill order."
Three took in a deep breath.
"A kill order, sir?"
One paused. "Kill orders exist and are used, Three. But our job isn't to deal with them. Our job is to evacuate civs and then get the hell out of there. Command doesn't want more PR loss."
"Command cares for people." Three's rebuttal was expected.
"Shut up, Three. Only reason I'm still here is that paycheck." Two's dead-tone voice was something most squad members were used to by now. Only Eight seemed to jump at its sound, to Two's great amusement.
"Well. Lets get in, and get out then." Seven said.
"Yeah." Seven was still a mystery to the squad members. Two seemed incapable of making of making a sarcastic remark to him. Nothing more special though. One, Two and 4 likely held more combat prowess. He was respectful and followed orders.
4 snorted. "Another day sifting through the mess, hoping we don't get noticed by the big, scary, parahuman. Despite being anti-cape grunts." She was the only female among them. Five had tried to flirt with her, but after many years with no results, one day he went too far and ended up with both arms dislocated. It also happened to be Eights first day as part of the squad when that... incident happened, so Eight was deathly afraid of her.
Eight found himself afraid of many things.
She also happened to be responsible for a death of a decently powerful parahuman. That had made her a legend.
Six was a joke. Mostly because he died before any of them could meet him. Three claimed that Command tried its best, but Three was Three. Many thought he looked up to the PRT way too much.
"Ah, that's our stop. Come on, PRT agent squad 47, off we go."
It ended badly.
Seven crawled on the ground. Why did that cape just have to be there, anyway?
His squad mates got away safe and sound, thankfully. Well, at least he thought so. Well, most of them, anyway.
He glanced at Three's lower body, blood stil seeping out from the hips. His upper body probably communicated disbelief, or betrayal, what with his faith in the PRT's "phenomenal" care for its agents. Or maybe it just had shock on it. He would likely never know. This cape could probably transport things safely, but that wasn't the intent, was it?
He kept crawling. He wasn't hurt, but if that cape noticed him he was likely dead. So he kept crawling.
"Oh ho ho~ Someone's trying to escape, huh?"
Aaaaaand he failed. Damn. He slowly stood up, hands behind his head.
"Well, how do you feel if I sent away your lower body to my 'body storage place', instead of the upper one?"
Seven looked at the mass of hips sprouting legs and spurting blood. Maybe that would be preferable.
"Have you ever even tried to transport a living human being safely?"
The cape guy paused. "No. I have done so with objects... but humans? Safely?!"
He smiled. "Good idea! Lets do that!"
And Seven found himself about a step to the side suddenly, proving that yes, he could be transported safely.
The Jack Slash wannabe laughed. "Goody! It works."
Seven wanted to get out of this alive. His survival intent brain was chugging. Why was the cape humouring him anyway?
"So, you transport it to a specified place in mind?"
"Yes? Your point?" Mr. I-make-people-half-of-what-they-used-to-be-Cape was starting to sound bored. Which was bad. Very bad for his health. "Are you going to give me the whole join us spiel? If you do, I'll tear you to pieces."
"No no no, just..." He was using maximum brain power now. "Have you tried sending them somewhere..." He thought harder. This could either end really badly or really well. He hoped well, but badly was more like it.
"Have you tried sending them somewhere... unspecified? Like you weren't thinking where they should go?"
The cape froze, shocked. Then seemed to slowly transition to his old smiling state.
"I like that idea."
Where was he?
In a bathroom of sorts, far as he could tell.
He tried to rub his head, though only hit his standard PRT gas mask. It struck him how much it looked like a PBF but with detachable filters. It was an "experiment" that his squad was a part of, but it likely wouldn't do much good and would likely be opted out for the cheaper reflectable visor.
He couldn't see his eyes through the two round holes covered with reflective glass.
He was getting distracted. He had to get out and return to his squad. He was lucky he wasn't flung into space or something worse.
He got out of the bathroom. He was.. in some sort of meeting room. The bathroom connected to the meeting room? Damn. Awkward moments were had here, that was for sure. The builder must have had a sense of humour. It was made out of brown wood, as was the table. The chairs looked like normal office seats.
Wait.
There was a gun on the table.
He had lost most of his firearms, except the crappy makarov that was only fit to eliminate future offspring.
But on the table was a TOZ-34. Over and under barrel, good range. Two shots. A hunting shotgun. Warsaw pact. A shotgun shell box he could fit on his back beside it.
It would do. How it even got there he was not going to question yet. Hopefully his superiors would forgive.
He moved and picked it up examining it-
It was stained in blood.
He lurched away from it, still holding it in his hands.
That was definitely blood, not ketchup. How did it get there? The question seemed more important now.
He was answered in a unique and dreadful way.
The sound of footsteps- no, something else was his answer.
He was alert immediately, and checked that the shotgun was loaded.
It was. Good.
And bad. The shotgun didn't have a chance to be used at all, despite being bloodstained.
The steps came closer.
He was by the corner of the meeting rooms opening, his gun ready.
And out came a Nilbogian nightmare.
It was as though someone thought that wolves just needed to be mutated. Parts of its fur looked fallen out. It was a deathly grey, as though it hadn't eaten in months. Teeth were sharp. And fangs, though he didn't know why. Why have fangs when you could use canines, like all humans and normal wolves?
It was only slightly shorter than him. It looked to the side, noticed him, and leaped toward him. He pulled the trigger. The wolf-thing was knocked back and fell to the floor, dead on the spot.
He started quickly reloading the TOZ. It was good that it wasn't immune to lead.
His heart pounded and he was barely able to stop himself from panic.
Where was he?
He walked out of the meeting room, and on the top of the doorless entrance was 'Elllisburg Office 14'
And immediately wished he had stayed at home.
He was probably dead.
Nilbogian horror, huh? He thought and slowly looked to the recently deceased body.
The one of in which he now had an idea of its origin.
Authors Note:
A short beginning chapter.
I intend to make longer ones.
An idea that circled through my head for a while. I will try to implement it well.
Gal Paladin
Goose Appreciator
- Location
- That one place with the lakes
- Pronouns
- It/Its
My first thought was this was gonna be a STALKER isekai between your icon and him finding a TOZ on the table, but I'm excited to see where you go with this as this poor guy has to survive the Chernobyl Ellisburg Exclusion Zone!