SNAFU: Hunters

“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?”