Operation: Immortal Hellbeast

Jonathan Javian has been actively seeking out irregulars all over the world. As part of his search, he's devoted a portion of The New Path's resources towards research into the occult. Development in this field has been... limited. Extremely limited. However, that all seems to have changed, when the company began to fund a one, Joseph Pratt. Apparently, Pratt and his cult have actually managed to summon an honest to goodness demon. Until now, Javian had not paid much attention to the daily goings on of this particular investment, but if these reports were true, then he had to see her for himself. However, there was a complication.

Apparently, they had managed to open the door to an irregular world. Yes, they were able to successfully summon a demon through it, but this door was not so convenient that they could just close it afterwards. According to the report, they have the situation contained and are working on a solution, but security is what The New Path does best.

Late in dark of the night, a certain covert team of security contractors moved silently through an old, run down factory. They each wore The New Path compass silver pins somewhere on their body armor, which was dyed in urban blacks and grays. They were visors on their helms that were tinted black, obscuring their identities. They strode with confidence, as if the owned the place, and in fact they did. This was New Path property. The seemingly abandoned factory was just a clever ruse. No one would suspect that the cargo elevator in the basement was still operational. Especially, with the elevator shaft above it wrecked beyond repair and obstructed by debris. Thankfully, their destination wasn't up. It was down. The cargo elevator carried them down to the recently built, state-of-the-art, and very secret laboratory levels bellow. When elevator doors opened again, they revealed Pratt and his men. This was Pratt's chance to impress the company and get even more funding. He couldn't let this opportunity slip by.

"Greetings, Mr. Pratt. I'm the executive from the company," one of the men in tactical combat gear strode forward, offering his hand to shake. The man's voice did not sound natural. It was clearly being distorted by a voice altering device.

"You can call me, The Lost. I here you've got a door in your basement that needs to be secured," he stated in a clam and collected tone. As he did, the eleven men in matching gear stepped up behind him in formation. The sound of their boots striking the concrete in unison echoed out throughout the facility. These were but the first beats of the drums of war, but it was nothing compared to the chorus of chaos that roared down bellow in the sealed rooms on the bottom floor.

Pratt, a nervous man in his 60's, was sweating and shaking when he met The Lost. It seemed to take all his effort just to look at the Exec in the eye. "Y-yes, thank you for coming... Yes... secured... I..." The situation seemed to make Pratt prattle on about useless things, about how his cult was down quite a few members. Female members.

Frustrated, Sergeant Logan Bjornson, the Viking himself, moved up to salute and report to his boss. He was in full combat gear, helmet at his side. A stoic man, he ain't afraid anything.

The only reason the situation was contained was because half the security was handled by the Vikings, a squad who'd had a taste of the supernatural in Canada. And they brought silver bullets. Still, Werewolves were one thing. The Christian Afterlife got any religious members on edge, and even Chester was holding his cross and praying during the downtime.

"We've barricaded the blast doors and funnel them down a kill corridor down center. West of the lift lobby's our operations center, right's infirmary." Logan explained, bringing up a hologram of the lab's layout. The one-way-in-and-out made security easier.

"...Past the Kill Corridor was the lab's control room. The... demons... are holding there for now, a few dumb enough to wander into our waiting guns." Logan brought up a camera feed of the room, showing a large iron chest bound in chains, covered in vivid fiery letters. The demons were trying to either take it away, or open it, or just messed around with the dead bodies of fallen staff.

"...Before the commotion started, we found this chest waiting on the other side. Joseph decided it was important so he had us bring it here. Next thing we knew... well, hell literally broke loose."

"So... I have a feeling whatever's in it is important. sir." Logan said, summing up the situation for his boss. Wasting no time, he also offers Lost a box magazine of silver coated ammo.

It would probably be twice as intimidating for Pratt to maintain eye contact, when all he had to stare at was a featureless helmet visor that was tinted black. The Lost let him drone on, trying to get useful information he could out of him. There wasn't much to work with. He was relieved when the Viking stepped up.

"Good job, Viking... and sorry about this. I know this assignment was supposed to be down time, for you and your men. Who could have known this would turn into another incident," Lost responded, sounding genuinely sympathetic despite his voice changer. First Canada, now this? Maybe Viking was cursed. Probably shouldn't say that out loud.

"Thanks, but I have a feeling we're going to need a lot more than that," Lost replied as he accepted the box of silver ammo.

"That's why we prepared our own, and this," he explained holding up a black attache case.

"Let's walk and talk gentlemen. I agree that the box is clearly important, but do we have any leads on how to close that door?" he asked turning to Pratt for a moment, before continuing to lead the way towards the control room that contained the box.

He'd come to a stop where the Vikings had drawn the line in the sand and setup their kill corridor. He quickly sized up the defenses they had setup and deemed it adequate.

"Mage, setup here and help them hold the line. Soothsayer, head to the surveillance room and take over. Cleric, help them out in the infirmary. Everyone else relieve Viking's men," he then turned to Bjornson.

"You did well to hold out for this long. We'll take over from here, be ready to relieve us in twenty four hours," finally finished giving out orders, The Lost turned to look down the corridor. Right now, it was quiet. Exactly as quiet as it should be. However, he knew it wouldn't stay that way for long.

"Sir." Bjornson saluted and was relieved for the respite. Fighting the otherworldly took an unseen toll on him and his Vikings. He headed to the control room to sit beside the Soothsayer.

Walking past the kill nest, the defenders salute their commander and dug in with their weapons. The squad's paranoia brought a .50 Caliber machine gun, every round coated with silver- an expensive investment that paid off today. The rest carried shotguns and marksmen rifles.

The long corridor was strewn with at least a couple-dozen bodies, roughly half were inhuman and reduced to ashes. The walls were riddled with bullet holes and ricochets.

Pratt answered with a stutter at first, but having an answer made his voice clear over the communicator. "When we performed the ritual, we opened it from here. The door can be closed only from the other side."


All the lights in the ruined lab control room were broken, yet an eerie glow emanated from the box. It stood there in the empty room waiting for the team to approach it.

But of course, once reaching the control room, the dead staff they had walked past began to reanimate. "Hold your fire, squad in fire zone!" A voice at the kill nest shouted, unwilling to endanger their commander. The ... zombies... got up and approached the squad in the lab, hungry for brains. They were not the shambling types, but the running, clawing and biting types. They faced down cultists and former colleagues, possibly former friends, now hungry for their flesh and blood.

Meanwhile The box awaited. The words on its surface swam in a mesmerizing pattern, to quickly become legible to any observer.


"Rip and Tear
from the Unholy
A Sacrifice of Blood
Awake the Hellbeast."

The Lost pondered Pratt's answer. Closing it form the others side. Would that mean someone would have to be trapped on the other side? Or would it be possible to leave something there that would close the door, and then have someone travel back through it before it did? There wasn't really time to ask any followup questions, though.

"The corpses... they're getting up!" Soothsayer 01 would be the first to warn them. The Soothsayer crew were only two, and having the Viking besides them made them feel that much more at ease. This whole place had a creepy feel to it. The fact that bodies were getting back didn't help.

Turning to look over his shoulder, the men Lost had with him were already taking their shots. He remained oddly calm, standing tall and upright while the others instinctively hunched over to make themselves less of a target.

"Shield, form up on my six. Archer, do you have a shot?" he gave out his orders in response to the situation. As soon as he had, he turned to face forward. He knew he could trust them to handle this and didn't bother looking back.

The Lost had only brought four security contractors with him to approach the box. They were the maneuver team, code named Shield Wall. They were armed with riot shields and machine pistols. They formed up tight, defending The Lost's back. True to their name, their shields formed a wall. Their pistols fired quickly and accurately, even with only one arm dedicated to operating them.

Team archer was a single sniper armed with a .50 cal anti-material rifle. Weapon so devastating it could not be designated as sniper rifle, since those are designed to take out human targets. This weapon could take out tanks and destroy barricades, and it would be inhuman to prepare such a weapon to deal with human targets. Thankfully, these weren't human.

"I have a clear shot," Archer responded.

"Archer 01, you are clear to take the shot," Lost gave the order. The roar of the cannon was accompanied by several of the charging corpses bursting apart. It would have been more, but he had to aim at the floor at the end of the corridor so that the shot wouldn't continue on to hit the Shield Wall.

The rest of the charging corpses were held at bay by Shield Wall. Even if they were the type of zombie that ran, that only put them on par with unarmed civilians. The security contractors could easily cut them down, and did so without hesitation.

Meanwhile, Lost gave his undisturbed attention to the box in front of him. He stepped forward, observing it. He of course read the words, but then went on to examine the chains. If they were mundane chains, he could easily snap them off. They were not. He could not move the box either, despite his great strength.

"..." he took a moment to ponder the message. Could it really be that simple?

"Sir, they keep getting back up," Shield Wall 01 reported.

"They can't stand without legs. They can't crawl without arms," Lost answered without turning away from the puzzle box in front of him. With that, Shield Wall began setting work. Not only did they shoot down the zombies, they severed their limbs with concentrated fire. Archer didn't really need to work so hard. He just had to connect a shot, and they'd explode. However, he did have to make sure he didn't have any allies in his line of fire.

"Contacts down.... Clear." All was quiet after the brief skirmish. The last of the dead fell down, unable to defeat the practical defense. Undead blood and gore ran on the floor, making it slick. The blood touched the box, and all was quiet.

Then the box shuddered, and one by one the chains snap loose. An otherworldly whisper emanated from the box, as the lid slowly creaks open...

"Clear." "Clear." "Clear." "Clear." Each of the security contractors confirmed over one another that the hostiles had been put down.

"Mage, target the bodies in the corridor. Make sure they stay down," Lost ordered. Mage was a team of two security contractors that worked together to port, load, and operate a fixed placement, heavy machine gun. They aimed at the corpses on the floor, and the heavy machine gun turned them into mulch. There would be no surprise returns from them.

Lost lifted his foot up and looked down at the blood. It seemed to be unnaturally drawn to the box at the center of the room. He looked back up as the chains snapped.

"Shield, form up around the package. Make sure to stay clear of the hall," Lost ordered in response, but he did not move himself.

The members of Shield Wall moved around the box, sticking close to the walls of the control room. From where they stood, they couldn't be hit from down the hall, where Mage continued to lay down fire to clear the corpses.

The heavy lid finally slid down to the floor, with a heavy, heavy thud. Inside was a young girl in a fairly tattered, old-fashioned dress. She sat up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

"GOOOOOOD MORNING!" She said in a high pitched, extremely cheery voice.

"Are you the McDonald's people? because oh man I've been waiting for my pancakes with syrup! Not Blueberries though. I haaaaaaaate hate hate hate BLUEBERRY." She started, going from cheerful to sad to angry, clenching her four hands. She looked at each soldier excitedly, expecting pancakes. The mood had just went to grim to... saccharine. Lost's troops were very, very confused right now.

"..." The Lost took a moment to observe the creature before him from behind the black visor of his helm.

The members of Shield Wall cowered behind their riot shields, keeping their guns trained on the contents of the box, but they didn't open fire just yet. They weren't sure if they should or not. They had watched the footage of the Viking squad holding down the line. So they knew what to expect and when to open fire before. However, she was clearly not in the footage.

"I do hope you slept well. If it's food you want, I'd be happy to treat you," Lost decided to respond after only a short pause.

"I'm called The Lost. It's a pleasure to meet you," he introduced himself. As he did he reached out his hand, offering to help her step out of the box.

The Hellbeast girl looked at Lost and grinned... showing nice, healthy, very sharp filed teeth."HEHEHEHE That's nice PRETTY NICE of you! Okay then I'll hold you to that promise. Oh look!" movement were erratic and energetic. Like a hamster on coffee.

In a wisp of black smoke she blinked beside one of the undead. Teleportation, casual and quick just like that. "No use wasting foooooOOOOd!" She cracks open the skull and scoops out a piece of brain matter.

"Blegh. BLEGH! UGGGH! YAACK!" I didn't ORDER this! the undead! AAAGH!" She spat and gagged on the undead brain, kicking the corpse away.

A monstrous growl emanated from beyond the control room. Heavy footsteps came closer and closer to their position.

It didn't quite get the hellbeast's attention though.
"No seriously man I'm totes hungry. I could make like Michelangelo and eat a WHOLE PIZZA! HAHAHAH!"

The Lost looked over his shoulder to where the hellbeast had teleported. Interesting. The growl had caught his attention, though.

"Hold your fire, Mage," Lost quietly stated under his breath, just loud enough to be heard over the comm. Just encase they were considering shooting the four armed girl. It was a problem that the box girl was in the hallway, but perhaps she could be made useful.

"Hmm, do you hear that? It sounds like fresh meat," he announced loud enough for the box girl to hear. As he did, he pulled out and snapped a glow stick, activating it. It filled the room with a blue glow and then threw it forward towards the sound of the heavy footsteps. However, afterwards he only returned to his calm and poised posture. He still had not reached for his primary weapon, which had been slung over his shoulder, and his attache case remained closed. For now, he was content to see the situation unfold in front of him, and had not yet felt threatened enough to begin combat personally.

The sight of the glowstick was definitely more interesting than a demon outbreak. Dabbler turned around and began to gave chase."Ooh hey what's that it's so SHINYYY! Shiny shiny shiny~..."


The glowstick brought Dabbler face to face with the massive demon. The reason for his heavy footsteps was the massive plate armor he wore, a few inches thick all over. "OH HELLOOO~ Wow you're a big... door guard. Must be nice strutting around the real world AIN'T THAT RIIIIGHT?!" There was a sixth voice in there, a dissonance from her high pitched screeching- it sounded like a young adult woman.

"THE HELLBEAST HAS ESCAPED! DIIIEEE!!!" The monster with the big armor raised its massive fists to crush Dabbler. Telegraphing much, Dabbler flashes back a few feet.

"WIIIINSTON! COME TO MAMA!" She called out, tapping the wall beside her.

From a nearby grate a large, otherworldly tentacle burst forth and grabbed the Hellguard, catching his fists and began promptly squeezing him. His heavy armor proved detrimental to maneuverability, locking him in place. "AAAARGH!"

"HAHAHAHAHHA! SQueeze him! SQUEEZE HIM! I WANNA SEE HIS EYEBALLS POP!" Dabbler clapped and laughed maniacally, as the Hellguard was caught in a terrible disadvantage. It struggled to escape, as the tentacle crushed him in his armor, slowly but surely until eye popping ensued.

"..." The Lost quietly observed the incredible events before him. He had his hopes up when he came here, but to think that the night would unfold like this.

"This is Archer 01, I've got a clear shot on the big guy," the sniper with the anti-material rifle called in.

"Take the shot!" Soothsayer 02 screeched over the comm.

"Belay that order. Lets see what this... Hellbeast can do," Lost responded before Archer could follow through.

"And Soothsayer 02..." Lost paused for dramatic effect. Soothsayer 02 had given into his fear and broke the chain of command. It was paramount to treason. Soothsayer 02 was prepared to hear the worst.

"..." Lost let him squirm for a bit.

"Go get us some McDonalds pancakes... with syrup," he ordered.

"..." Soothsayer 02 wasn't sure if he was serious for a second.

"Y-yes sir!" he decided not to push his luck. By the time Lost had Soothsayer 02 sorted out, the Hellbeast had the other demon sorted out.

"Pratt, how do we perform the ritual to close the door? And if we do, would that leave someone trapped on the other side?" Lost finally decided it was time to move things along.

Pratt cleared his throat frequently before speaking, and did so again this time. "Well... I don't suppose we can convince... convince one of the demons to close it for us, can we? I'm sorry but I can't think of any alternative. The massive doors are too heavy. The locks must be moved into place and... Where is that grating laugh coming from?"

The cameras were busted beyond the old control room, and Dabbler was laughing out loud once more when the hell knight's eyes popped out of their sockets and rolled to Lost's feet. Disturbingly, the eye seemed aware still, and tried to move... with as much success an eye with nerve attached could conceivably move. "HAHA EXPLODING HUG! YOUR GUTS ARE HUGE!!!!!"

The giant eldritch abomination tentacle returned to its dimension once its friend had stopped struggling. The way to the ritual chamber was clear now. The demons had retreated when they saw a Hell Knight being crushed to death. "Run! RUN! the Hell Beast is loose!" The demons spoke in a deep, ominous voice, but even that didn't mask the fear they had.

But really, it seemed demons didn't hold much interest to Dabbler. She looked around the room slick with gore and spotted one of the computer terminals. Nothing special, just a monitor and keypad, but the computer was on lockdown mode due to the incursion. "...Ooooh is that a computer thingy? It's so flat!" She admired the flat screen, before pushing a few keys. The computer was not responsive. She looked around and saw that the wires were in order. "Oh POOP. Does this have Dial-up? Oh wait, it's not plugged in? Yeah it is..."

"Heavy? So these doors are an actual physical door?" he had assumed there would be some kind of mysticism involved. Either way, the answered seemed to be clear. If that Winston tentacle could close the door, there would be no problem. In theory. It was just a matter of getting the hellbeast girl to cooperate.

It was then that the armored demon exploded and its eye landed near The Lost's boot. He observed how its pupil dilated and it's optic whipped about long after a normal human eye would die. As disturbing as it was, he remained turbed. He crouched down next to it, slamming his attache case onto the floor next to the eye, causing it to bounce up a little. It was finally time to reveal his secret weapon. He popped open both locks on the steel attache case and opened it to reveal... nothing. Well actually inside there were a bunch of containers, test tubes, and bags, but they were all empty. He pulled out a reasonably sized tube and carefully unscrewed the cap. Pulling a pair of forensic tweezers from his utility belt and picked up the eye by its optic never. He held it up, and took a good look at it from a different angle, letting it get a good look at him, then lowered into the tube and covered it back up. Finally, he replaced the tube back into the attache case, where it would be held firmly in place by specialized, form fit foam.

He then began work collected several samples of zombie and demon remains. Even if it was just ashes. Using a liquid collector, also from his utility belt, he collected several test tubes worth of zombie and demon blood.

"Soothsayer, override the lock down on that terminal for her," While he was working, he noticed that the hellbeast seemed interested in the computer. Soothsayer 01 thought to protest, but he knew better than to actually go through with it. It'd only take him a few moments to unlock the computer using New Path overrides. When New Path handled your security, that also meant they could disable your security at any point in time. Something the world was not yet as aware of as it should be, considering more and more of the world signed itself over to The New Path every day.

The computer would be at the Hellbeast's command, the lock down warning suddenly disappearing. After quickly collecting a reasonable amount of materials, he would close up his attache case and carry it over to the Hellbeast.

"Say sunshine, I don't suppose you can help me out with a little problem I have. You see, all my men can't seem to even close a simple door," he explained as he gestured toward the demon gate.

"I don't suppose your friend, Winston- was it? Could he help close that door for us?" he decided asking directly would be their best bet.