But the look that froze your soul and turned you into a dribbling, compliant moron could be beaten. Its power lay in convincing you that you were helpless in the face of this hellish horror. As in any combat situation, resisting the urge to freeze would be the only thing that would keep you alive. If you were getting the ‘look’, it meant that the Taint was within a few feet. And that was never a good place to be.
The newbies had been warned. What was commonly referred to as ‘getting a dose of epic stink-eye’ was right there in week-one training. But in all the fury and confusion of a hunt, Warner had done what all newbies do on their first outing — forgotten everything that really mattered. He flipped up his night vision goggles and gazed into the eyes of the Taint. His arms went limp and the M4 dropped to his side, his finger still curled around the trigger. If he it squeezed now, he’d probably shoot his own damn foot off.
“Terry! Terry, you idiot, snap out of it! Terry!” Robbie tried to get through to his oppo, but the mesmerised berk simply stood, gawping at the slathering, snarling Taint. Robbie cursed, swung his M4 up and blasted wildly at the creature. He didn’t miss this time. The Taint’s head exploded, closely followed by the rest of him.
Then came more. So many more. A writhing avalanche of snarling, slathering Taints poured through the door, screeching and slashing those venom-laced talons towards the two men. Within a heartbeat the Taints were all over them. To their credit, the lads went down fighting. But underneath a rugby-scrum’s worth of Taints, they didn’t have a prayer. Their own screams joined in with those of their devourers…
Colby Flynn watched the Taints overwhelm the two men. “Damn it!” He glanced up at a corner of the room and made a cutting gesture across his throat. “End program!” A loud buzzer sounded.
The Taints melted away.
All that was left were two whimpering men, lying in a foetal position in the middle of the floor, their M4s abandoned at their sides.
“Well, that went well…” Colby sighed and let out a sharp whistle between his teeth. “Upsy daisy, ladies!”
“Real enough for ya, Col?” A voice crackled over a tannoy, followed by a nasty little chuckle.
Colby glanced up to a corner of the room and spoke back to the disembodied voice. “Cox, you’re a sick, twisted son of a bitch, you know that? A damn genius, granted, and obviously a serious gamer with a Resident Evil addiction, for sure. But sick and twisted nevertheless. Loved all the thrashing and the drumming, though. Super real. When did you upgrade the VR programming?”
“Ah, there was nothing on the telly last night. So, ya know. Idle hands, devil’s work and all that shit…”
“Remind me to make sure you stay busy, you bloody lunatic.” Colby glanced at the newbies, who were slowly starting to uncurl and get back up to their feet. They both looked utterly embarrassed and brushed the dust off their combats, sheepish looks on their faces. Colby turned back up to the corner of the room. “One thing, Micky, that second one? Too slow, fella. Way too slow. We’re not dealing with zombies here, mate, we’re going up against genetically-altered, batshit-crazy vamps. Speed ‘em up a bit. Make it more realistic.”
Terry Warner flipped his NVGs up and glared at Colby. “More realistic? More fucking realistic? Are you actually kidding me?” A blank stare from Colby reminded him he was talking to a superior officer. “I mean, are you actually kidding me, sir?”
“Corporal Warner, you are currently standing in a puddle of your own piss after having been well and truly freaked out by a virtual-reality Taint that, if I’m honest, has some flaws that need to be ironed out—”
“Hey! I thought you liked Binky!” Micky’s voice crackled over the tannoy again, interrupting Colby mid-rant. He sounded mortally offended.
Colby paused, and looked straight at Warner, who responded with a shrug and a ‘Yeah, I heard that too…’ look of wide-eyed astonishment.
Both men looked up at the tannoy and spoke together “Seriously?”
There was a short pause before an indignant voice responded, “What’s wrong with Binky?”
“What’s wrong with you?” Colby shook his head, and returned his attention to Warner and his interrupted rant. “Listen, fella. This?” He waved an arm around. “It’s a simulation. Nothing more. It’s designed as a cold-body experience to get you used to facing a Taint up close and personal before we assign you to a unit. This is just like any other kill house, Warner. A training exercise. Nothing more. Okay, granted, it’s a kill house with a truly astonishing level of technical wizardry and the latest in virtual reality immersive training, courtesy of that nutjob up there,” he jerked a thumb towards the tannoy.
“I can still hear you, you know!”
Colby ignored the hurt, disembodied voice. “But that’s all it is, just a training exercise. So if you find this disturbing then, trust me, mate, facing a warm body is a whole ‘nother level of crazy shit. And in that situation you can’t just yell ‘player one out!’ and hope Micky turns the VR off before you go all pant-pissy and foetal again.” He drew a breath and studied the shocked Warner. “Look. Be honest, okay? If you can’t cope with this then just say the word and we’ll RTU you. Nobody will think any less of you. This gig isn’t for everyone, believe me—”
“No, sir! No, that’s not what I meant. I… shit. I’ve got nothing here…” Warner glared at the floor. “Ah, bollocks. You’re gonna RTU me anyway, aren’t you?”
Colby shook his head. “We don’t return someone to their unit just for one fuck up. Everyone fails their first kill house. But if you are selected to join the Unit then bear in mind that, out in the real world? Facing real Taints?” Colby shrugged. “Yeah, you only get one shot at that, mate. So fail in here, survive out there.” He pushed himself off the wall and stood a few inches from Warner. The newbie was still breathing heavy, and the slightly acidic tang of ammonia wafted up from his damp combats.
Colby’s normally jovial look melted away, and Warner faced Flynn’s own heavy-duty version of epic stink-eye. The big man’s pale green eyes were hard, and the hint of a smile that usually pulled at the corners of Flynn’s mouth had vanished. “But screw up a second time, or give me any indication that you could end up putting your oppos’ lives in danger and I promise you, mate, I promise you, you’ll be back peeling spuds in the Catering Corps before you can say Dauphinoise potatoes.”
“I was with the Guards, sir.”
“Same difference.” Colby sniffed, and wished he hadn’t. “Go and get yourself cleaned up.” He threw a glance at the silent Terry. “Both of you.” They paused, looking awkward and apologetic. Colby glowered, his eyes narrowing even further. “And you’re still here why, exactly?”