Three figures ran into a small room with a wooden door, a pack of winged demons close behind. The three quickly staggered into the closet and shut the door behind them. Skully threw a few heavy objects in front of it before lying against the wall, exhausted. The Harpies began to pound on the door in hopes to smash through it. Skully looked over to Chopper, also out of breath.

"Just like *huff* the good ol' days *huff*. Eh, Skully?" Chopper said. The man looked back at Chopper through his dark goggles.

"Yeah, let me tell ya." He returned. The Harpies were now ripping at the door with their mangled claws. A small hole broke through the door, revealing a beaked face. It snarled and screamed at it's would-be meal. Skully pulled down his fabric mask and brought a cigarette to his mouth. He lit a match and slowly brought it to the cigarette and took a drag as the Harpy screamed again. He slowly pulled out his magnum and lined up the barrel with it's head. Point-blank, an easy shot. He took one look at it's eyes to see if he could find traces of remorse in it's soul. All he could find was pure anger; agony, almost.

He tried to think what the Patriarch put into their heads to make them hate them so much. The beast snapped at Skully one more time before a loud bang went off. He lowered his weapon just as another Harpy took the last one's place. Skully sighed as he clicked open the cartridge of the weapon to view his bullet count. That was his last one.

He wanted to save it, but decided it was better to go down fighting. Chopper pulled out his machete and nodded to Skully. Skully looked into the red eyes of the figure in the back of the room. It nodded to him as well. He then proceeded to remove the barricades to let the Harpies in. The figure got back onto it's four legs and stepped closer to the light, showing off a cyan coat with a beautiful multi-colored tail and mane. She held a sharp, blood stained, meter-long blade in her mouth and stared at the door as Skully continued to pick off small pieces of the barricade, stalling in hopes of someone might come and help.

Skully kicked aside the last barricade and readied his fireaxe. Quickly after the dead bolt broke, a pack of the winged beast swarmed in, and behind them, a pack of naked, skinless humanoids barring blades where their hands should be, and behind them, a small group of seven foot-tall, chainsaw-armed brutes sprinting in.

The only screams were that of war cries...

============
Some time earlier. . .

It was midday. Clouds were blocking out most of the sun as it attempted to shine rays of orange through the grey. It never rained, but clouds were always up in the sky. It was almost as if God himself wanted to make sure everybody knew this was the end of the world and meticulously altered every detail to prove such. On the outskirts of Western London stood a camp filled with various uniformed men, armed to the teeth with whatever they could find in these 'wastelands'. In the middle of the camp a man in an especially decorated uniform walks out of a tent and clears his throat.

"ATTEN-SHUN!" The man yelled in a heavy southern-American accent. A line of roughly twenty men appeared in front of the officer. He pulled out a clip-board. "When I call ya' name, step ford!" He began to pace up and down the line, staring at the clip-board.

"SKULLY!" A man in dark jeans and a black hoodie stepped forward. He wore his signature bandana, the type that shows a skull face when folded right. Along with that a black wooly cap and darkly tinted goggles. Not an inch of his face seemed to show through. Although he looked like a normal everyday punk, he stood at attention with true poise and dignity. He was a rather unorthodox soldier, in the sense that while everyone else used bullets and explosives against the specimens, he used his trusty fireaxe. He even had a couple rumors running around camp that he once lopped a Fleshpound's head clean off when it was raging right at him. The only problem with the story being that he had a broken arm around the time that rumor popped up. Though, nobody seemed to care enough to dismiss it.

"NOBLE!" A man in a cheap skeleton Halloween costum stepped forward. He was a kind person, and very generous whenever he shared something, but thanks to his appearance, nobody talked to him. He never could take off the costume, the zipper got stuck and he was forced to wear that thing for the past two years straight. He got used to the smell eventually though. He looked up to Skully as a personal hero, mainly beacuse he loved his music tracks when he went to his parties, but he treated him with respect none the less. He always volunteered to go on sweeps, even ones that were reported to cross paths with the Patriarch himself. He never cared about his own life, he just wanted some fame before eventually sucumbing to his inevitable demise. The camp knew this and avoided him even more so. No one knew when he would finally snap, so they sent him on as many suicide missions as possible. Becoming more and more scared of him everytime he returned.

"ALBERTS!" A man in that was in his early forties walked forward. He wore a trench coat and under the trench coat he wore very dirty priest clothing and a grenade belt on his left shoulder. He always talked as though he were preaching, even when he was combating the hordes of specimens out in the field. Many avoided him because he was always happy, always. Happy inside of battle, happy outside of battle, happy even when the search group he was in was sweeping houses and found his entire family, extended and all, mutilated and spread about the house. He gained his status amongst the camp for going up against two Scrakes with only a hunting shotgun, two bullets, and his signature wooden crucifix. He returned to the camp with one hunting shotgun, two bullets, and a bloody, wooden cross.

"FOSTER!" A skinny chap in a clean, smart looking buisness suit casually walked forward. He cared the least about his job and only cared about getting this apocalypse out of the way and finally publishing his book. He sported an old, white, worn out gas mask along with his suit, making him stand out from everybody else even more so and insisted that everybody call him 'Mr. Foster'. To much of the camp's dismay, he still believed that a social system remained and thought that he was on top. He was almost hated more than the zeds. The only reason he was doing anything beyond the camp laundryman was because he had the 'Hand of God'. He never missed, never. He was rumored to have taken out a group of ten charging gorefasts with five bullets. Again, nobody questioned any of these rumors. They just wanted some heroes to look up to.

"GLOVER!" A man in a bulky, green hazmat suit timidly walked forward. He was the last known man surviving that worked with these creatures before the outbreak and the last man to truely understand how to beat these creatures. Usually he would be behind a map, planning the species survival but now he was needed for this last, important mission. You wouldn't expect it, but this man was a genious with explosives and alway knew where to toss a grenade to hit the perfect amount of zeds. He hardly talked to anybody, and when he did it was purely buisness. He held close to his suit as much as his trusty 9mm, both of which he had owned since the start of the Outbreak and were never seen without their owner.

"That's it! Everyone else, back to your tents! Let's go!" The rest of the men then proceded to return to their sleeping quarters, leaving the five men standing there all alone.

"That'll be all, Corporal." A man in a dirty military uniform said. It was very loose, signifying that once he was a rather large man, and fairly built. But a brute in comparison to now. He had a slight English accent, but most of it was muffled behind his black gas mask. Nobody has seen him without his gas mask since this Hell began, and the very few that knew him before the Outbreak could hardly remember his face. Everybody knew him by his mask now. He was even protective over it. The one time somebody attempted to take it, Lewis got furious and demoted him. Later that week, he assigned the 'prankster' and himself to a two-man sweep of a neighborhood, Lewis came back swearing on his life that the prankster threw himself into an oncoming Fleshpound to save his life. Nobody was brave enough to call him out. "You all got your briefing, yes?" He continued.

"Yes, sir." They all said in unison.

"Good, then I don't need to explain much. All you really need to know is that we found the lab, and we're going to destroy it. We'll be facing the worst of the worst in this hell-hole so when you head to the armory, take the biggest guns you can find." He grinned to the men, even though no one could see it. "You all have 'till midnight to say goodbyes and to return here with what you need." The five stood, holding their stances. "Well? Piss off! Time's tickin'." The men then quickly walked to the armory and the messhall. They were all giddy to finally end this thing.

==================

It was pitch black when they arrived to London. The six rolled their truck up to where they believed the lab to be hidden. They didn't care about being quiet, they knew that they weren't coming back. Everything in their guts told them so. They walked into the old office building and were met with hardly any resistance heading to the elevator a few clots here or there, but nothing else. But the men still took caution. It was too quiet. They walked through the halls of the abandon office. Powers, the man in the black gas mask looked at the walls. They had writings in blood on them, mainly consisting of last words and cries for help. Most of it was all in vain as most of the writings had a body or two slumped under it.

They came up to the elevator and pressed the button.

"What if the elevator falls when we're in it?" Mr. Foster asked.

"Shut it, Foster." Lewis said without even looking back at him. The metal box slowly creaked up the shaft and dinged when it arrived at their floor. "Alright, ya blokes. Pile in."

"Yes, pile into the box of death."

"Shut it, Foster! I'll kick you to a Fleshpound if ya keep yapin'." Foster stopped speaking. Did he have to use THAT threat?

They reached the bottom floor to be greeted by the awful stench of rotting corpses. Foster, Glover, and Lewis were uneffected to a point, but everyone else made their discomfort audible. When the last man, Reverand Alberts, stepped out of the elevator the box suddenly went upwards. The sound of it suddnely moving without anybody doing anything to it caused everyone to slightly jump and turn to it. They all gazed at the shaft as the metal box went up, stopped for a moment, and suddenly came crashing down at an incredible speed. The men covered their heads to protect themselves from any debris flying from the crash as they tried to jump away from the exposed shaft.

The dust settled after a few seconds of coughing and swearing. Mr. Foster was the first to speak, "Shit! Now how're we gonna get back up!?" He asked, severly agitated.

"We'll find a way. It's not like we need to make a dramatic exit after planting the bombs." Gary Glover said. The men thought for a second about that last conversation. They would most likely need an exit... right?

"Guys, guys. Ya hear that?" Skully said, motioning for everyone to shut up. Down the halls the men could hear the sound of footsteps and then the specimens' cries. They readied themselves.

Suddenly, they saw a giant wave of specimens down the long hallway. The first thing they saw was a giant horde of Gorefasts. Tall, dark red beings that lacked hair, skin, genitals, it's jaw and a left arm. They were known to run just as fast as the quickest man in the camp. But what gave them their infamy was their right arm. Their left arm was only a bloody stump, but their right arm had a blade a meter long in it. That's right, IN it. The center of the beast's arm was split right down the middle and had a large saw blade jammed in and loosly tied together with two leather straps. Nobody knew whether or not these thing were cloned like this, or if they did this to themselves on their own time. But one thing was for sure, they were deadly.

What followed close behind was a group of small, black specimen. They held the title of 'Crawler' and did just that, quickly gliding across to it's victims, close to the ground so it would be harder to notice them. It held the shape of a normal human, to a degree, but had various apendages protruding out of it's back doing not much except shooting upwards, signifying whenever it noticed 'lunch'. They crawled on all four and acted like feral dogs, jumping at their victims and biting whatever they got a hold of. They were more of a nuisance than a threat, but there were stories of some people getting eaten alive by these creatures and were generally marked to die first amoungst the other specimens.

Bringing up the rear was a massive horde of Clots. Skinny, pale, and weak were all words used to describe these near-useless beings. Alone, they were useless, sometimes people even played with the creatures. They would make use of their incredibly slow movement and just stay inches in front of the creature, sometimes for hours before putting the beast down with a single swipe. But together, they were a force to be reckoned with. Nobody knew whether it was the fact that they were surround by their own kind or what, but whenever they were in groups they seemed to be quicker, harsher, and angrier. They were always feared whenever seen in groups this size.

They horde began to close in quick and Glover's only reaction to the sight was to yell, "Leggit!" The group split into two at the sound, each heading down a seperate corridor away from the horde. Skully, Noble, and Lewis going one way and Alberts, Foster, and Glover going the other. Skully pulled out his fireaxe to move faster. But eventually one specimen finally caught up. He turned around to greet it.

"Eat this ya damn mutant!" DJ Skully said as he flipped his fire axe to the spiked end and drove the point deep into the head of a Gorefast. He quickly took it out and continued to swipe at the onslaught of the mindless, skinny, pale Clots in the corridor. On the other end of the hall, Corporal Lewis came acorss a Scrake, a giant, muscular brute in a surgeon's gown and sporting a chainsaw on it's right arm. Lewis pulled out his double barrel and shoved it into the chin of the charging monstrosity. The beast looked into the man's eyes with pure hatered and rage. He looked back with the same emotions.

The Corporal squeezed the two triggers without thinking twice. The body went flying into a group of Crawlers approaching him. The weight of the body alone managed to crush most of the critters, but Lewis pulled out his sidearm to finish off the survivors. He then saw a giant, half-naked, brutish man walking down the hall. He stood out of the crowd due to many factors. First being the giant, yellow light on his stomach, the second being his giant hands, which had large maces attached to them to add extra pain to it's victims. Mike Noble came running down the hall, behind Powers, with a flamethrower in his hands. His heart was racing, he was finally going to kill his first Fleshpound.

Lewis threw up his hands to stop Mike. "Noble! Don't!"

"Eat this ya damn bastard!" He said as he shot the extremely hot napalm at the creature, sucessfully lighting it on fire.
Lewis couldn't see what had come of the beast behind the wall of fire, but he heard a roar. And it didn't sound like a death cry. Through the fire and flames the beast rampaged towards Mike, its stomach now a heavy red color.

"Noble!" Lewis yelled. Mike panicked and dropped his weapon. He quickly pulled out his Mac-10 and began to light the beast up. The beast still raged on towards Mike. DJ Skully pulled out an M32 grenade launcher and fired a round at the Fleshpound. It hardly flinched. Lewis ran in front of the charging beast in hopes to slow it down, but it merely threw him out of the way, he crashed against the metallic door to his right. He looked up, "NOBLE! RUN!" he yelled on the floor. Noble tried to do so but the beast made one last adrenaline fueled sprint and finally caught up with the man. It lifted both it's giant metal maces up and began to bring them down. Mike lifted his hands up as if to catch the metal maces.

Lewis never heard a sound quite like what he heard when the beast made contact with Mike's skull. He wanted to say it sounded like normal bone breaking, but it sounded so much worse. Along with the sound of breaking bone, he heard the sound of grinding grey matter in the monsters gears, or maybe just normal muscle. He heard what sounded like Mike scream, but the maces twisting in his head altered the sound, making it seem much more high-pitched and even more awful. These sounds, along side this awful sight made Lewis vomit in his gas mask. He bent over as the Fleshpound slowly made it's way towards Lewis. He wanted it to move quicker so he would be dead sooner, but Skully had other plans. He pulled out his M32 again and shot another round at the monster. This time, hitting it square in the light in it's stomach, causing the creature to be engulphed by a ball of flames.

Bits of shrapnel, made mostly out of the creatures 'mace-hands', found it's way inside parts of Lewis' left leg. He screamed in agony, feeling metal grind against his bones as he moved. Skully ran over to the Corporal and quickly gave him a shot from a small, red injector. Lewis could feel a wave of numbness pass through him as all the muscles in his body seemed to slowly shut off and relax.

"Don't worry, buddy. This'll stop the bleeding real quick." Skully said, trying to calm the man in pain. Lewis felt the need to squeeze something so he took hold of Skully's arm. He crushed it to a point where Skully had to pull away. "Watch it!" Skully watched as the 'miracle-drug' already began to clot the wound and slowly the blood rush. He chuclked at relising that it took the end of the world for scientists to finally come up with a form of field medicine that actually worked.

Reverend Alberts ran over to Lewis from behind Skully. He was panicked, "Cover me, Brother! For we have more demons advancing upon us!" Skully looked over to see the silhouettes of near invisible women, all bare-foot and running silently at the men with razor sharp claws, just down the hall. He pulled out his fireaxe again.

"Give us a kiss." One of the Stalkers sarcasticly hissed at the men.

"Sorry, love. I don't kiss dead tarts." He swung at the silhouttes and caught one of the stalkers in his swing, though not slowing it down the least bit. Unfortunately, one of the two others grabbed at Skully as he contiuned to follow through with the swing, sucessfully unarming him of his axe. "You little..." He began as he punched the being square in the face, then hearing a satisfying crunch. Thank God for brass knuckles. He cracked his fist as he thought of something smart to say.

He scratched his chin as he then snapped his fingers, and grinned. "I never had to punched a girl in my life. Good thing you're too ugly to be one." He dusted off his clothes and turned around to pick up his axe but the final Stalker was standing behind him the entire time, and when he bent over to pick his weapon up, it swung it's claws upwards and caught him right in the eyes. His goggles protected most of his eyes, but the rest of his face had a large gash in it. He fell on his back, clutching his wound and screaming in pain. The Stalker slowly walked over his body, a satisfied grin on her face. He kicked at it feriously, but it ripped at his legs. He was losing a lot of blood and began to give up.

The Stalker walked over to Skully's upper half and raised it's claws to finish the DJ off. The creature was then greeted with a blast to it's back. It went flying as chunks of it's organs were torn out of it's body by the point-blank buck-shot.

"Be at peace my child! May your god welcome you with mercy, for I shall not!" He then ran in front of Skully and began to pull the attention of the entire lab, it seemed. A group of Clots arived to meet the Holy man's challenge. He charged head first to greet them back. He kicked and bashed with his weapon, along with occationally shooting it, and even bit one of the creatures' ears off, cracked the helpless being's neck, and spat the ear back to the crowd. Skully knew he was having too much fun with this.

Lewis walked up behind Skully and helped him stop the bleeding. Gave him a shot similar to what he recieved moments earlier. Skully quickly crawled over to find his axe, but he couldn't. Just then Mr Foster came running down the hall. They way he ran, one wouldn't suspect he was a lazy, down on his luck novel writer, but more of an aged veteran, crisp out of resting and ready to fight once again. "Don't waste your time with that soddin' piece, mate." He threw a katana at Skully and pulled out dual .44 Magnums.

"You're like Father Christmas." Skully said with a wide grin behind his mask. The four then heard a large roar down the hall. Dr Gary Glover came running out of an office just down the hall. His hazmat suit seemed like the most inconvienient thing on the planet at the time now that there was something chasing him.

"Bloody hell! What'd ya bring with ya two!?" Lewis yelled. They turned to see another Fleshpound charging at them. Glover ran behind the four and quickly pulled out an M79. The shell collided directly with the beast's chest as the others began to open fire on the monster. It lost it's footing just as it reached the group. Skully took the opportunity to jump on the creature. He began to chop at it's head with his new 'ninja sword' as it tried to get back up. Skully grabbed onto it's back and held on to what was left of the beast's mangled head. He pulled out his knife and stabbed it into it's bare chest as it spun wildly to get the man off.

"GET OFF OF IT YA TOSSER!" Foster yelled, trying to line up a shot with the creature's head. He spun faster and faster and Skully kept stabbing it until it finally dropped. The hall went silent but Skully was still stabbing the dead creature.

"It's dead Skully." Lewis yelled.

He kept stabbing.

"It's dead! Skully!"

He kept stabbing.

"It's DEAD!" He pulled the DJ off the creature. The hall went quite for a few moments.

"Is that it? Are they all gone?" Gary asked through his hazmat suit's protective visor.

"I do believe that the time of rest is at hand, my brothers." Alberts said.

Skully sighed, "Smoke 'em if ya got 'em." He said pulling out a cigarette and leaning against the wall. "Anybody spare a light?" He added as he pulled away his mask, revealing a pale face with a scruffy, untrimmed yet thin beard. Nobody moved.

"Where's Mike?" Gary asked, out of breath. Lewis looked at the doctor and then motioned to the pile of mutilated bodies on the ground. "Oh shit! He's dead?" Lewis nodded. Gary backed up against a wall and slid down to the floor, staring at the wall in front of him.

"He wont be forgotten, that's for sure." Mr Foster began. "I'll make sure he's never forgotten for his acts."

"That's noble of you, but it's unnecessary. We just gotta focus on shuttin' this place down." Lewis interjected. The five then began to search the labs. They came across many rotting corpses that had probably been the first to die at the start of the outbreak. Lewis could still see some of their twisted faces, stuck screaming in agony for the rest of time. He made it his duty to at least close the eyes of the victims.

Gary looked at his old friends. If it weren't for their sacrifices, he probably would have been in their situation, replacing them. He thanked them over and over again in his head. He saw Tom, an old water cooler friend. He never had a conversation longer than ten minutes with him, but he thought of him as a good friend. He then saw Martha. Funny, all he needed was one more day to gain enough courage to ask her for a drink. He guessed that this was God's way of telling him it wasn't meant to be.

God. That's an interesting topic. For months, they were playing God down here. Everyone knew who let them free, but sometimes Gary thinks that God was somehow using this as punishment to all for playing him. He came off the topic when they came across a large door.

"Start openin' this one, Gary. We'll cover ya."

"Got it." He pulled out his wielding tool and began to cut at the locks inside the door. Lewis surveyed the hallways. They were at a bad intersection where, if they were sloppy, would be completely surrounded in minutes. He wanted the door opened as fast as possible. Lewis then heard the moans.

"Eastern flank!" He yelled, pointing at the hallway with a mob of clots. He shot a few rounds of his shotgun before relocating to greet the horde of gorefasts in the opposite hall. The blast of gunfire, the burning of a wielding tool, and the screams of the specimens made it hard to hear anything. Gary continued to open the door, even though all his instincts told him to defend himself. At times he even thought that everybody behind him was dead and that he would be struck down in seconds.

Skully saw the horde of clots down the hall and suddenly blacked out, to a degree. His mind was remembering the first night he saw those demons, but his body was back in reality, chopping at the monsters. Blood covered Skully's goggles, he couldn't see anything, he didn't even know if he was attacking his friends or not. He just knew that his blade was cutting into something's flesh.

Mr. Foster was jumping between hallways. Picking off specimens that were getting too close. He then saw a shriveled looking women with bounds on her arms and legs. She had extremely wild hair and a gaping jaw, ready to scream that shrill voice that could shatter glass and many other things. He pulled out a cross-bow and lined up his scope. He focused on getting that shot. He didn't notice the sound coming from a vent shaft just above him. He didn't notice the bug-like Crawler just above him picking out targets. He didn't notice Lewis yelling to him to watch out. But he did notice the over-grown bug pounce on him. It bit vigorously at Foster's arms.

"Get it off! GET IT OFF!" Gary turned his attention away from the door. He pulled out his trusty 9mm and unloaded onto the creature. A bullet grazed Foster's arm, but for the most part he hit the creature right on target. During this short moment, Lewis attempted to push the creature off of Foster, leaving his hallway open. A lone Gorefast, one of the red, skinless creatures, took this opening to slash at the Reverend from behind. He turned to meet his attacker, leaving his now bleeding back open to the rest of the monstrosities that were once in front of him. He blasted the gorefast almost twenty meters away with a shotgun blast.

"Have peace, my ch-" A clot grabbed him from behind. It put him into a sort of choke-hold while other specimens surrounded him. He was pulled farther into the mob as he laughed crazily.

"Reverend!" Skully yelled. He ran at the horde that had now turned it's back to the rest of the group rip at the holy man. Alberts laughter only intensified. Skully tried to get a view of the Reverend so that he could put a bullet in the man's head. He didn't want to have a man go out so painfully, but he could never get a clear look at him.

Skully heard the scream of the bounded woman, the Siren. Thankfully, his large, DJ earphones blocked out enough of the sound for him to see clearly, while everyone else cringed in pain. He swung at the frail-looking creature and even managed to dig his blade into her, but surprisingly she was hardly fazed by the attack. It looked at Skully with eyeless sockets and reared it's head back to scream yet again. Skully couldn't handle the second scream and fell over onto his knee by the sheer sound of her voice. It suddenly stopped screaming. The DJ looked up to see the frail, woman-looking creature flipping backwards against the power of a double barreled shotgun blast.

"DOORS OPEN!" Gary yelled. The four men quickly stagered into the red room. Gary quickly pressed a button to close the door and began to wield it shut. The bang of hands and blades against the door echoed through the bloodied halls. "Leggit! I'll catch up!"

"You sure?" Corporal Lewis asked. The doctor stopped wielding for a moment, grabbed Lewis' double barrel, loaded two more shells into it, and clicked it back into it's firing position.

"Damn sure." Lewis nodded and the three men then headed down the stairs into another hallway as the doctor continued his work. The lower hallway was filled with rooms that could hide monsters waiting to attack them. They heard the moans and screams of the specimens just down the hall to their right. Mr Foster thought for a moment.

"Lewis! Take Skully to the machine. I've gotta go back and help Gary. He's dead if these blokes get him from behind." The Corporal nodded. The DJ and the Corporal quickly ran down the left hallway. They saw a lone clot in a room, feasting on a oddly fresh body. Lewis aimed his pistol at the creature, but Skully stopped him.

"No! Don't warn them." He said, almost whispering. He slowly creeped up behind the pale creature. He lifted his blade up above his head, and was then tackled to the ground by a Scrake. The mock-surgeon reved up his chainsaw-arm and swiped at the DJ. Lewis quickly tackled the large beast back, just before it sucessfully attacked Skully, knocking it to the floor. Unfortunately, in doing so he got part of his hand, specifically between his middle and ring finger on his right hand, jammed in the moving blade. It cut roughly half-way into his hand.

"FUUUUUCK!" He screamed as he pulled away from the Scrake, only ruining his hand even more. He quickly rumaged for a weapon as the beast got up. It turned to Lewis and glared at him. Lewis pulled out his 9mm and began to take potshots at the creatures knees. His aim was terrible with his left hand, but it was the only one that worked at the moment. The creature was almost close enough to finish off the crippled corporal. But then it felt a slight sting, hardly noticable until it looked down and saw a blade piercing right through it's chest cavity.

"Come on! Ya damn tossa! Whatdaya GOT for me!" Upon saying 'got' he twisted the blade so as to cause the creature more pain. It tried to turn around and gut the DJ, but it seemed that Skully was now piggy-backing the creature similarly as when he was on the back of the Fleshpound. He did the same routine as with the Fleshpound and began to stab his combat knife into it's jaw. In the act, he managed to stab himself a few times but didn't feel it due to all the adrenaline pumping through him. "That's it!? I've seen schoolgirls scarier than you! Comeon!" It grabbed Skully's arm and slowly brought it's chainsaw up to it's neck to cut at the piggy-backer. Skully saw this a grinned through his torn mask. Just before the moving blade met Skully's arm, he slickly slid out of the beast's hold and pulled the beast's arm directly into it's owners head.

It screamed sounds of agony as the blade tore into the side of it's face, blood sprouting in a small stream upwards. It tried to manually pull the moving blade out of it's skull, but in doing so only managed to tilt the blade and wedge it's wound enough so that the men could actually see it's grey matter. Lewis shot at it's knee causing it to stumble to the ground. He then walked over to it to finish it off with a shot to the head. He lined up his sights, but was stopped when Skully put his hand on his gun

"He's killed so many, yet we can only kill him once. Let him die in agony. At least then we can say we made him truely pay." Lewis looked at Skully, he didn't know what the man's face said, but those words terrified him. He wasn't fighting along side a DJ anymore. He was fighting with a ruthless killer. Lewis didn't know when he too would snap, if he hadn't already. But at this rate, it would be soon. They slowly walked towards what they believed was the cloning machine. They weren't sure how to stop it so they did what they thought was best: Blow it up.

The machine looked odd, but it did fit the description. It was a cylindrical shape, with many wires attached to it. It looked like only part of the machine. "Wait!" Lewis said, stopping the DJ from planting the explosives. "Don't put so much on this alone. There might be more. Let's keep looking." Skully nodded and only put one brick of C4 on the machine. They only needed one, but command gave them about ten more, just for safe keepings. Powers began to look around as Skully set the fuse. He came across four more hidden in the same room, and five in the room adjacent to the original. He began to set up the explosives when he began to think.

"Hold on a tick," He began. "Aren't these things supposed to be on?" He began to turn around to look at Skully, but then heard a noise.

He turned to it the see a giant metal arm coming right at him. He was thrown to the ground by the blow. He looked up to see a tall, shirtless beast in tattered shorts standing directly above him. It had multiple tentacles protruding out of the sides of his body, and a large apendage square in the middle of his chest. Lewis viewed a large, sharp claw on his right arm and an even larger chaingun attached to it's left. He looked up to see the face of a once calm, gentle man, now twisted due to many failed experiments and physical damage. A pair of nearly destroyed glasses sat on his face, barley hanging on. And behind those, his right eye had popped out of his skull. Though it still moved and focused on Powers face. The only real human thing about him was his humaniod shape and his deep, raspy, ripping voice that alone would make Lewis question facing a being such as him.

"You murdered my children! I'll squash you like the pests you are!"

"So YOU'RE the Patriarch? Funny, they made you sound a lot more scarier in the breifings." Lewis said weakly.

The Patriarch lifted up his foot to bring down on the injured man's skull. Skully saw the Patriarch standing over his friend. He took his sword, ran up behind him, and slashed at the monstrosity's ankles, cutting his tendons and making him stager to his knees. The Patriarch then swung at Skully with his claw, leaving another large gash on the man's arm. The Patriarch stood up to face the DJ, he lifted up his left arm and aimed it at Skully. "THIS IS THE END OF YOU!" The barrel of the chaingun began to spin. Skully could only stare into the beast's eyes, paralysed by the sheer terror that he would soon meet death. The Patriarch then felt a small sting in his back. Lewis had tried to take his attention long enough for Skully to run.

"RUN! Leave this bastard for me!" But Skully still couldn't move. The Patriarch turned back to Lewis and picked him up with his claw. The razor sharp nails digging into his shoulder. He threw Lewis over his shoulder at Skully and began to spin his chaingun up once again.

"This was the best they could send?! Pathectic! You should be glad that I'm cleansing the Earth of this weak race." Suddenly an arrow dug itself into the Patriarch's raised arm, going right through it and causing him to lower is weapon. The beast looked over to Mr Foster and Gary Glover, who had a M79 fixed on him.

"Leggit!" Gary yelled. The two injured men quickly crawled out of the blast radius. Gary shot a shell at the Partiarch just as it tried to stagger at him. The expolsion managed to knock him back. He began to crawl away from the four men.

He roared a deep, long cry and yelled, "SAVE ME, MY CHILDREN! Don't let them destroy us!" He then pressed a few various buttons on his left arm and vanished into thin air. The squad could hear bare feet against the cold ground.

"Open up on the soddin' bastard!" Lewis yelled, shooting in the direction of the sound with is sidearm. The three other men attempted to hit the invisible target as well.

"Watch it!" Mr Foster yelled looking over to see a large mob of Clots beginning to sprint towards the intruders' position. Mr Foster pulled out his trusty magnums, spinning them by their triggers for added effect, and began to pop the creatures' heads off one by one.

"Follow me, guys! We can't hold 'em all!" Glover yelled as he retreated into a room adjacent to the cloning machine. The three followed, as they fired back at the advancing specimens. They came across a larger cylindrical machine, similar to the cloners but with more wires and an erie green glow. "Good God. He actually did it." Gary whispered to himself, staring with awe at the giant machine.

"Another cloner!? Bleedin' hell! This guy doesn't give up!" Skully yelled.

"How're we gonna take this out?" Lewis asked Glover. Glover inspected the machine, he snapped his fingers as he got an idea.

"Easy! Set this tosser to over drive and let the bastard run itself out!"

"You know how to run this thing!?" Lewis asked, taking a break from firing at the closing in monsters to reload.

"Not a damn clue!" Glover yelled at Lewis, grinning wildly. He then began to type on the console random commands. The machine began to crackle to life. "I think it's working!" Gary yelled to no one exactly.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING! IT'S NOT COMPLETE! YOU'LL KILL US ALL!" The men turned to the Patriarch and began to open fire. He charged at the men and swung his right arm at Mr Foster and threw him across the room in the direction of the door. He tried to scream at the pain as he hit the ground but couldn't find any strength to do so. He saw blackness begin to overthrow his eyesight. The Patriarch then jumped at Glover, punched his claw through his visor, and dug his claws into his neck, causing him to bleed. "Ah, Glover. My trusted assistant. We have so much to catch up on." He began spinning up his chaingun while pointing it at his face.

"Sorry, sir." He began as he ripped the rest of his suit open, revealing three pipe bombs strapped to his chest. "But I quit!" He pulled the many wires to the bombs, sucessfully setting them all off.

The blast threw everyone, and thing, in the room straight to the ground and the Patriarch into a large glass cylinder in the room. The machine blasted with a spark of purple lightning, signifying it's activation.

Lewis looked over to find Foster, he couldn't see him anywhere. He then grabbed Skully, who was kind enough to land by him and began to ever so slowly crawl towards the machine, his legs too weak to properly walk. He knew that this thing wasn't a cloning machine, so he wanted to at least know what it would do if he walked into it. It would be nice to know that much before dying.

"NO! DON'T! YOU'LL DESTROY EVERYTHING! EVERYTHING, I TELL YOU!" The Patriarch tried to coax the intruders away from his project. It was still in beta and he had no idea what it would do if tested too early. He feared nucular results.

Lewis looked back at the injured Partiarch as he slowly pulled himself and Skully up. "Well at least YOU'LL finally die, ya smelly bastard!" He yelled as he jumped into the purple wall of plasma with Skully on his shoulder.

Everything in his nervous system seemed to shut off while he was 'jumping'. He couldn't feel any pain at all. But he couldn't feel air in his lungs, or the blood in his viens. He started to painic as he knew he was slowly dying due to lack of... basic body failure. He couldn't even find strenght to move his head sideways. He just stood in limbo as he wondered how his brain was still working. He just guessed that he was on his way to the pearly gates, with Skully on his shoulder. Then everything went dark.

===============

He looked up. He could hardly see anything behind the cracked lens' of the gas mask. As he pulled it off it emptied it's rank contents onto the floor. The bright lights blinded him. The only time he saw artifical lights that bright was before the Outbreak. He rubbed his eyes feriously to regain his sight, but to no avail. He looked around to see these brightly colored blobs all around him, which he guessed were staring with awe at the sight of the bloodied intruders. His vision was mostly blury still, unfortunately, so he couldn't truely grasp the forms of the creatures around him. He jumped when he saw the blobs, and the blobs jumped in a similar manner.

He looked around to see that the color of gold was decorating the large hall he was in. He saw the tables with what he thought was food on them and saw a group of creatures wearing what looked like golden armor, what he suspected were guards, running at him. He finally looked down to Skully. Skully was unconscious, useless in this battle. He quickly stumbled over to what he thought was a chair and broke off a leg and stuck it up like a bat, preparing to swing at any attackers.

Though the feelings of his 'jumping' made him want to puke, and his voice showed that weakness, he still had to defend his friend, to the death even.

"Bachk tha FUCHK ff, ya demons. I'll fuchkin' killya!" One of the presumed guards chuckled a bit and slowly walked towards the strange creature. "I'm fuchkin' warnin'ya!" The creature continued. "Thasit!" He threw all his weight into the stike against the being. He knew the strike was good when he heard the satisfying crunch of bone. Something he learned to love when fighting a creature who he had no idea what it was. He tried to recatch his balance to meet the other threats, but was quickly knocked down by another charging attacker. He look up to see that a creature was lining up a shot to his head with it's hind legs.

"WAIT!" He yelled just as the creature knocked him completely unconscious.

The guards stared at the odd creatures in total confusion. What in all of Equestria were these thing?

"TAKE THEM TO THE INFIRMARY!" A loud, feminine voice boomed. The guards did as told.

Inside Lewis' mind, he was wishing that he finally died from the blow. Only then he could finally stop fighting.