Dropdown 06 7tz
rating: +1+x

It's 2006 and in a CI base in Arizona. Some way, somehow, an unknown item drops onto the doorstep of the base. Attached is a note saying: I hope you can find a better use for this. Security footage shows no evidence of anyone leaving it, and the site is on lock-down.

Winzlow Herrill was starring through his binoculars. The fact that it had not moved was concerning to him. It meant that someone put it there or it could actually move and had chosen not to do so in a very unfortunate spot.

He would have liked to pick up and shake the fool that decided to just pick up a note from an unknown package, that was not delivered through the front gate guard station. The note itself might have been part of the trap.

Luckily someone else had that idea. A Trojan horse only works when the Trojans drag it into the city themselves. Whoever had dropped that package knew that much, otherwise he would have dropped it in Base 4337-G and not at the door of said Base. What they had not however accounted for was that that spot was not within reach of a normal civilian postal worker. The Base had a fence and a front gate, but the thing was here, far beyond where such a package should be.

"I hope you can find a better use for this". He spat the words out, still not sure what to make of them. The writer of the note knew who they were and more specifically where they were. That meant that someone of site staff had not kept their mouth shut or in the worst case someone higher up could not hold it together. Now he had made the mistake to volunteered to clean up this mess.

Winzlow was vice leader of one of the recovery troops Base 4337-G employed. When he had tried to get to his office this morning he was briefed on the situation and as someone not currently locked up in the Base had taken charge.

Everything in this situation was bad. Had at least a humanoid delivery person been sighted to have brought the package, they could have ruled out being in the crosshair of aliens with teleporters.

Winzlow robbed back into his camouflage tent. He had to get the package out of there. Otherwise some idiot inside of the Base might get the glorious idea to just take the thing in. Their initial reaction was good, but should Dr. Feribald get his wish the lock-down would be lifted and the Trojans would role the horse in, feeling very confident about having "everything under control". The difference between here and Troja was that Winzlow was pretty sure that whatever was in the package would not be Greeks with spears, but something that had use for the Insurgency and the Insurgency had use for things that could wipe out a place like Base 4337-G. He hoped that Dr. Herry Gerred, the Base director, would do the right thing, but he knew that the site director would go looking for an excuse to open that package.

That was the difference between doctors and field agents. The doctors usually only have to see the beasts once they are in a cage. Now they would make the error to mistake 2 millimeters of cardboard for a proper cage for a tiger or something worse.

Winzlow was on edge when he gave his order over the walkie-talkie. "If they open the door and go for the package, shoot them with a tranquilizer. I don't want that thing in the Base until the guys from Containment Base 4337-E are here." Winzlow was sure that if someone was actually shot due to his order, he would probably face punishment, but better to be unjustly punished than to be rightfully punished for negligence, when the box would inevitably blow up in everyone's faces.

Winzlow directed another order into his walkie. "What's the status on the reinforcements?" He waited a bit before a response came. "Sir, It seems backup is caught in a haboob. Their estimated time is now around 3 hours." He looked at his walkie. "A what?"

"A haboob, Sir. It's a form of dust storm we get around here." Winzlow grimaced. "Will it be affecting us?" Of course this all had to happen in the desert. And the one time he was visiting, no less. "Yes Sir. The estimated time for that is around an hour" That was disconcerting, to say the least. This meant he either had to bring the package into the base or hope it could weather the storm. Both being terrible options, It was all up to which was the lesser of two evils.

If it indeed was a gift, with no malicious intent behind it. It could certainly get damaged in a sandstorm. However, the chances of it being a poisoned gift were too high to take that chance.

"So this is where they've got you cooped up." A tall man with a deep tan walked in. He had dark shades and hair that looked like it was stolen straight from Macgyver. "Shouldn't you be stuck inside. It's called a lockdown for a reason." The man pulled up a tactical chair and sat down. "I know, but the ice cream machine was broken, and I just can't live without my strawberry swirl."

"Ha, Richard Dean Anderson called, he wants his hair back." The man frowned "Look, I know we don't see eye to eye here. But the truth is, we need to know what that thing out there is." He scooted a bit closer, revealing a badge saying Dr. Anthony Feribald in bold letters. "I'm assuming they told you about the haboob?" Dr. Feribald said nonchalantly "You know that means we have to bring it in."

"I disagree. Both you and me know that that thing is equally likely to hinder us as well as help." Winzlow loomed over the man. The doctor was generally considered a tall man. Winzlow was taller. "Look man, if you're so worried about that box releasing all hell in the base, why don't we just open it in here and see if it's as bad as it seems."

Winzlow felt the ball of sweat travel down his neck. It was good that Feribald was where he could keep an eye on him, sadly that meant that he had to spend time with him.

Winzlow was not a fan of the third option. Had he known whether or not the package needed air or a constant temperature he would have just wrapped it in trash-bags and would have then buried it, far away from the Base if possible. There was a way forward, but he would need someone to help him, someone he could trust.

His plan for this new sandstorm situation was to take the package into his car, drive his and a second car away from the Base and then drive back to the Base in the car not containing the package. The problem with this plan was that he needed to trust the second driver, not to just stay back and open the thing while no one was looking.

He weighed his options. Should the second driver refuse to drive him back he and the second driver would be stuck somewhere in the desert, with the package, far away from accountability. This could all come down to a Mexican standoff and Winzlow knew he was not the quickest on the draw. The Americans had that above him. If he could just have his team here. The only other persons out here were the Front Desk guy who currently held a rifle pointed at the package and the other guy who was currently manning the communication.

Winzlow dropped his shoulders in what seemed to be resignation. "Seems like you are right doctor. We have to open it." Dr. Feribald gave Winzlow a smile. "See, I knew you would see reason eventually." Winzlow looked down at the doctor. "This does not mean that we will do it in the Base. We both get into my car now and drive into the desert. There we can open it with a much lower risk. 25 minutes in, 10 minutes opening and verifying the content outside, 25 minutes back and we can have the thing secured in the Base." What Winzlow lacked for in draw-speed he made up in lying without being encumbered by it. He had no intention of actually opening the thing without at least 10, better 25, rifles pointed at it, while he was behind blast-tight glass, far away from the thing. "Fine, fine. See, a solution we both can agree on. I knew you would come up with something. That's why you are in the field after all." Winzlow straightened up. "Ok, you drive the car, I jump out, grab the package, hope the enemy does not shoot me while doing so and then you drive off."

While Feribald went to get the car, Winzlow went to get a few tranquilizers. He would get the Package, let the good doctor drive and as soon as there was no longer a risk of crashing the car he would tranquilize him. His plan had the unfortunate effect of him having to stay with the package for an unknown amount of time and a possibility for a car-crash. In the worst case he would have to hold the doctor at gunpoint for the whole time, should the tranquilizers not be able to knock him out.

Winzlow wished he could get some orders from his team Leader Sara Werai, but she was currently on that other mission in Utah.

He had already accepted the fact of being punished for tranquilizing someone. Now it just gained the added benefit that he could do it himself, without having to drag someone else down with him and he could stick it to the doctor, someone who deserved it and not some poor grunt, send out onto the battlefield without there own fault.

Save a Base and stick it to the right people, what better way out could there be? He swallowed hard. Being shot by alien snipers was still a possibility as was being buried alive somewhere in the desert. He would take a shovel with him as well, just in case he would need to dig himself out of a sandy grave.

His plan would put himself at risk, but it would ultimately prevent a catastrophe from happening to his Insurgency. He needed to protect her, his Insurgency, whatever cost that might entail.

Two men were speeding away in a beat up blue car. One of them held the steering wheel, the other a package.

Winzlow Herrill could not bring himself to put the package into the trunk or even the backseat. Having both hands on something that could be something worse than a nuclear detonator, drove Winzlow nearly insane. Dr. Anthony Feribald however drove the car with just one hand and was talking about something Winzlow thought was very inappropriate for the situation, namely whether they could get a promotion out of this.

Winzlow felt the tranquilizer needles in the pocket of his jeans. Just a few minutes more and he could "shut-down" the Doctor's babbling. He took his eye off the package to look up. The Arizona desert and a wall of sand before him he knew that the Doctor would stop the car soon.
"I think this is far enough doctor, I think we can open the package here." Dr. Feribald hit the breaks. "Finally. I am bursting with anticipation."

Winzlow took one hand of his precious cargo and reached for the needles. This was the moment the doctor grabbed the package and as fast as a weasel had left the car. In panic, Winzlow opened his door and rushed after him. He had placed the package on the ground and was currently getting his pocketknife out. Winzlow jumped at him with the needle, but it was to late. A purple smoke had started to rise from the hole in the package, the knife of the doctor had just opened. It loomed over them like a hand of smoke than the desert sand gave wight, into a large hole the sand, the doctor, the agent and the package were falling. Both men had already disappeared down the hole, when the car came into motion and fell in after them. The hole closed, seemingly running full with sand until only a few tier-tracks remained. The coming storm would wipe those away within the next 15 minutes.

Winzlow woke up to the feeling of wet sand in his hair "Not good." He proper himself up with his arm before opening his eyes. He was laying on a pile of sand and snow. Next to him, was Dr. Feribald, with the tranquilizer needle stuck well into his thigh. "Not good!" he said a little louder this time. Around him was a tightly packed forest, dotted with crocuses poking out of the snow. It would have been quite enchanting if he didn't know that he was supposed to be in the desert.

Above him, he heard a crack paired with some jingling. Looking up, he received a sprinkling of glass from his 2000 jeep wrangler, which was currently balancing on the branches of several pine trees.

"Oh, NOT GOOD!"Crack

As if the tree was on cue, several branches began to give. "Winne? Is that you?" The doctor was beginning to wake up. "Smuch. Look, we need to move, fast!" Dr. Feribald gave a toothy smile. "Sure, but introduce me to your friend first." He pointed a shaky arm up at the car. "God, what was in that tranq?" Winlow said as he began dragging the limp body away from the car.

No sooner than the doctor was a few meters away from the pile the branches finally gave. The engine was crushed like a can of coke and every window shattered. "I was about to pay it off to…" Winzlow sighed. He propped the Doctor against a study tree before going to assess the damage.

It was never going to run again, that he knew for a fact. The front half of the car practically imploded on itself. There wasn't even enough room to climb inside. The only things Winzlow was able to salvage were the shovel and a small first aid kit for emergencies. Even his gun was snapped at the barrel.

"Ok, let's see if we can find some- What are you doing?" Dr. Feribald was robbing away from the scene as fast as his drugged body would allow. "You bastard! You where going tranq me, weren't you?" He flopped over to spit in Winzlows direction, only have a little dribble onto his chin. "Look, that's not important now." Winzlow started to pick up the doctor, "What is important now is finding some shelter for the night. Who knows what hell hole your stupidity sent us to."

After about an hour of awkward half stumbling and half walking, Dr. Feribald spoke up, "You can set me down now, I can walk." He was slumped over Winzlows back in an uncomfortable position. "No, you can not." "What?" Winzlow glanced at the package he was carrying. "That tranq had enough strength to knock out a person my size. I'm amazed you're even awake." The doctor grunted before returning to the unsavory view he was stuck in before.

Anthony looked down at the snow tracks left by the agent. The small purple flowers they tread on showed lovely contrast against the white snow. If he was still a child, he would have probably eaten a few by now. But he was an adult now. An adult slumped over the shoulder of an unnaturally muscular man. He turned his head up again for another round of complaining, before he noticed something odd in the distance.

"Agent?" He turned his head towards the man. "What is it?" Anthony cleared his throat, "Well I was wondering, are you trying to get us killed?" Winzlow shot him a glare. "What are you suggesting?" "Well, if you were actually trying to keep us alive, wouldn't you have stopped by that cabin over there." He raised a shaky arm towards the small window lights on the horizon. The agent whipped around, flinging Anthony's hair into his face.

"Smut." Winzlow looked at the footprints he left leading directly away from the house. "You know what that means doctor?" Anthony spit his mullet away from his mouth. "Salvation?" He said hopefully. "It means this isn't a normal forest." Winzlow readied the shovel in his free hand. Friend or foe, he doubted he would find any other life for miles. "Ok, We're going to go in, check it out. And if, and only if, there are no red flags. We can bunker down for the night." Winzlow knew that this situation had already raising several red flags, but it was better than carrying around a limp man.

Winzlow was not quite sure about there position and with so many trees in the way he could not even use the stars. If he was still in the same dimension he knew or at least a good replica he could have at least figured out a rough estimate for there position. From a fishing cabinet in Canada to summer hideaway in Finland. Losing the doctor out here would be detrimental for his survival, but going into a random cabinet in the woods was dangerous.

"Let the field agent handle this. If whatever might be in there eats humans, captured via package, someone able to hold a gun should be the one to take the lead."

Winzlow dragged the doctor to the front door. No sniper-fire. He scanned his surroundings, then readied his gun. His gun was snapped and he would need a new one but Winzlow knew that even a snapped gun could stop a charging monster if fired from a short enough distance. If something would charge him he would rather have it taste leed before it could get a teast of him. Winzlow tried the doorhandle. The door opened with a slight crack. The inside was dimly lit. The light was not consistent, so ether bad electrical wiring or a fire. Bad wiring and a turned on light would be a good sign, since it meant that the place was not well maintained, therefore probably not a prepared trap. The temperature emitting from the door was more in line with a fire, meaning recently prepared.

Winzlow was very tense. If the idiot would shout "Hello. We got the package. We will come in now." His cover would be blown immediately. He opened the door with the shovel while still in cover beside the door. The door slowly opened with a creak. Winzlow felt the doctor pressing against his grip on him, trying to get into the house. The creaking had blown there cover, if whoever knew they were coming now knew their position.

With a sigh he robbed near the door to look in from a low vantage point. Wire-trap, mounted shotgun, bear-trap, electrical security system, guard dog alien or otherwise.

While Winzlow was doing his thing with the door Feribald was looking at the lovely flowers. A slight movement in the woods had found his interest, maybe a squirrel. His eyes followed the movement until they hit something black and shiny. Feribald looked up the boot, up the man in a black winter jacket with the rifle pointed square at his head. "You have got to be kidding me."

With a rush of adrenaline he was up on his feet. He had no time for the agent's antics. The agent jumped up like a cat suddenly hit with water from a hose. Feribald jumped for the door and Winzlow after him. Perhaps to stop him, perhaps to tranq him again, but Winzlows mind changed the next second as a bullet hit the spot where moments prior Feribalds head would have been. Winzlow as if relived, dragged the doctor into the hut. "Snipers, I knew it." Winzlow shouted almost triumphantly.

Out there in the woods Agent Willy Rosnykow, girded his teeth. The one with the stupid hair had seen him. He thought that guy was out cold, by the way the other one dragged him around. Suddenly he felt that pain in his chest again. He looked down at himself. He bled purple, as if he had been shot himself. "What the hell? He fears snipers, so why?" He caught up a bit of purple blood, before he turned back into a purple vapor cloud, that disbursed back into the woods.

"Goddamn!" The Doctor rubbed the back of his head as if feeling for a bullet hole. "How the hell did you call that?" Winzlow glanced at him, "It is stuff like that that gets you killed in the field." Winzlow peeked out a curtained window. Whatever was out there, was either gone or found a better hiding spot.

Anthony began to get up and look around the cabin. It was a decent size, with outdated wallpaper plastered on the walls. Along the back wall, there sat a bed and a small bookshelf. In the center of the room was a small dining table, with tableware settings placed for two. And on the side closest to the door, there was, what looked like, a workbench.

He limped over to the worktop. On it, were little metal gizmos and bits that looked as if they came out of Flash Gordon. Most of them were painted in traditional atompunk colors, with a few looking more, modern. "Agent. you get a look at this. Most of this stuff looks like it was shot straight out of the fifties."

Winzlow hadn't been paying attention to the doctor. Instead, his focus was more on the house. From the outside, he had seen at least two windows on the side of the cabin. But the room he currently stood in only showed one window on the wall. The wallpaper showed no sign of a hidden doorway or anything of interest. The only thing suspicious was the oddly door-sized bookcase along the back wall.

Upon taking a closer look, he noticed several oddities mixed up with the contents of the bookcase. Most of the stuff was standard, a collection of assorted studies and handbooks, a few fiction books, a decorative geode. But among the books, there were also various CDs, despite there being no obvious way to play them, a single magician tarot card, and a painted ravens skull.

"Hey Winnie," The doctor shouted across the room. Winzlow turned around just in time to catch a small object thrown in his direction. "You know what that is agent?" he looked at the object in his hand. It looked like a toaster without the bread slot, only small enough to fit in the palm of his hand. "No, I don't know. What is it?"

"Well, you would know if you were listening." The doctor snapped, "It's a remote control for something. Hell, if I knew to what." Dr. Feribald turned back towards the table and started muttering something Winzlow could not quite make out.

Winzlow put the device down as if he had been handed a seismic mine. This room was like a box filled with the worst of the worst of red flags it could have contained. From the wallpaper that had an uncanny similarity to the one his grandma used to have to the two set plates indicating that ether the two had been expected, a person they were not aware of was nearby or a crazy person talking to someone imaginary.

Winzlow could find something wrong with everything in here. It was all so wrong that he would have rather faced down a sniper than to be here for any longer. Winzlows head was racing to compile all the new information into a working theory. One possibility he kept shoving away. Not here, not now.

A badly hidden room, trap. If you build a second window in it must come out on the inside, it was not in this room and the back wall would probably align with the missing window.

Handbooks, studies, fiction novels, it all lined up. Magic, geology, modifications to the occult. In his mind all these things mixed together into a working theory he tried to actively ignore at this point. The packet in the restricted area and the sniper in the woods. No, no, no. There were no reports on any of them in the area.

Whenever Winzlow went somewhere he checked everything about the place he was to visit. There was one thing he was always digging for, since information regarding that specific type of anomaly was usually sealed by the Insurgency. They tried to bury the information regarding them out of shame and out of fear, the two things that get you to bury information deep.

"Doctor, what is the worst thing you can imagine to come across during a field assignment?" Winzlow was notably sweating, despite the cold. The doctor did not even look up while he rummaged through the stuff, exposing more and more red flags while doing so, without noticing. "I don't know. People that want to blow your head off?" Winzlow smiled. He knew the doctor had just told him a fat lie. He knew he could think of things worse than that. The mundane answer of the doctor almost made Winzlow happy. "You are almost right. The thing I don't want to come across the least, even less than flesh eating air and mind-reading radios…" while he said the part about the radio he shot a gimps at the device on the floor "… is someone that used to be on our team, but no longer is. A field agent, that turned on the CI and got away with it."

Out in the woods a purple mist cloud took shape once more. Agent Willy Rosnykow was back in one piece. The wound in his chest had closed. His head was filled with new information. Agent base training, all the additional seminars for better mission efficiency, occult magic manipulation. Rosnykow felt his mind swell with strategies, attack and defense plans, magical and technological diagrams. He had not felt this solid and "fleshed out" since that girl with arachnophobia designed an image of a 40 meter spider. He suddenly had an arsenal at his disposal far more advanced than he had moments prior, when he had basically fired blindly at whatever was on the mind of that quick weasel. Suddenly the weasel had a name, "Winzlow Herrill". The other man now had a name as well, "Anthony Feribald". "Know the enemy." Rosnykow had spoken out the first thing he had thought after the storm of information that now formed him had calmed. "People that monologue, are ether confident that there own words cant hurt them, as they control the situation or they are stupid, both dangerous." Rosnykow smiled, a tick he had just picked up with the rest of the information he had just gotten. He would wait. "An enemy that expects an attack is best defeated with silence." He let out a small cackling laugh before he retreated deeper into the woods.

Winzlow felt a chill down his spine. Everything was off, but whether that meant they should leave was a different story. If he left, it could mean being instantaneously shot by whoever was in the trees. But if he stayed, anything from the owner of the house coming back, to the doctor setting off a bomb could happen.

"Hey! Agent!" The doctor had seemed content with the dealings on the workbench until now. "I found a hidden switch," His heart dropped, "DON'T YOU DARE PRES-" The sound of mechanisms beneath them told him he spoke a second too late. The doctor's satisfied smirk was meet with Winzlows petrified shock as the bookcase on the wall receded into the floor. The empty space now showing a sliding door set into the wall.

"YOu DOnKy." Winzlows voice started cracking as he shouted. Anthony started towards the new door. It looked cheap, reminding the doctor of his old home before the insurgency. "You're too nervous. Worst case scenario, it's a sleestak. But if you ask me it'll probably be anticlimactic," The blood drained from Winzlows face "What the by all that could go wrong here is a sleestak?" he could feel his heart pounding out of his chest "I swear if your not telling me something,"

Anthony shot him a semi-amused look, "Sleestaks are from an old TV show from the 70s. They were these freaky looking lizard people with big eyes." He gave a little laugh as he stood outside the door. "Hell, they scared kids so much they had to make everyone super slow so kids felt like the could run away if they met one" He then slid the door wide open, only to turn around and hurl. "Oh god, I'm gonna lay down," he said before shuffling to the bed.

Winzlow gave a peak around the entryway. Pinned against the wall with screwdrivers was, what looked like, a sleestaks. It's green skin looked mangled and stitched together as if it had come from multiple different hosts. It had a horn on its head and claws in place for hands and feet, all of which looked as if they had been carved with symbols from another plain.

"Oh, good,"

If Winzlow had not seen gory scenarios in the past, he might have thrown up right beside the doctor. The room was not very well lit up, with the creature barely illuminated by the fire. "Are you good?" He glanced at the doctor, who was currently laying on top of the bed. "I don't know, man." He took a deep breath before sitting up. "That…" He pointed towards the doorway, "is not natural."

"A tad convenient, don't you think, doctor?" Winzlow closed the door. He wanted to keep the thing shut, because he had already calculated that that thing was most likely not dead and if his assumption was correct, this one would be faster than its de-buffed childfriendlyer brothers from TV. "You say it could be here and it turns up, dead no less. A bit specific, don't you think?"

Winzlow went into a squad and looked for something in his pocket. "Doctor, what do you think could kill a… how did you call it?" Winzlow paused for a second as his fingers found the bulge in his pocket. He had sown that thing into his pocket years ago, following a very insightful movie he had watched. Off cause he had done his research afterwards.

"Sleestaks." came an answer from the direction of the doctor.

Winzlow was only paying attention with one ear. He was ripping open the hidden compartment in his pocket until its content came lose and he closed his fingers around it.

Winzlow drew out a dice, wrapped in a piece of paper. Winzlow rolled the dice on the floor, 1. Behind the hidden door something moved. Winzlow hoped the doctor, who was currently trying to explain to him the role of a TV monster in a childrens show, had not noticed.

The dice rolled again, 1. Winzlow heard something scraping its way over to the hidden door. Yes, the monster was wounded, but still alive. Winzlow pushed his teeth together. One last roll, maybe two or three more, than he would know. Doctor, please don't notice it, please don't do anything stupid now. Winzlow knew that his gun was broken and that the doctors pocketknife would be ineffective, he just wondered whether Anthony Feribald would know.

The dice hit again. 6. Bingo. Checkmate. Game, Set and Match.

The doctor had risen from his resting place and was now eyeing the hidden door, behind which could be heard something large throwing itself against the door.

The human mind is not particularly good with probability. It often underestimates the odds of something happening, like rolling a number three times in a row. He had concentrated on that while rolling to suppress his memory of what this dice was actually supposed to do. Every side on this die was a 1. Any other result meant that someone was messing with his head. Rolling anything other than a 1 on this die would mean he was not master of his senses, a particular fear of his. Since the other side wanted to keep within things that seemed possible, they would refuse to let this die hit 1 to often in a row.

Winzlow let out a little smile. The doctor was frenetically trying to get Winzlows attention while he barricaded the hidden door. One last test. Winzlow grabbed the piece of paper that had been the wrapping for his die. He read it once, did not believe it for a second, then read it twice letting the fact that he accepted as true without evidence years ago seep in. The words on the paper had not changed, so this was not a dream. "Your Grandmother died in a car accident 24 years ago. One year after you left and joined your new family."

The noise behind the hidden door stopped, then a key was turned in the front door. Winzlow knew the door was unlocked so there would be no need to open it, but he recalled the noises just to vividly. There was just one key in one lock on the entire planet that could give him these bursts of cold sweet. One lock and only this one lock. He had been conditioned to fear this sound for years.

Feribald was just confused when he saw the old woman with the damp, green coat and the white headscarf with red dots enter the room. Ms. Herrill Senior had definitely aged in the time Winzlow had not seen her, but she definitely was not where she was supposed to be. Ash in an urn placed in one of Winzlow Herrills personal containment-vaults.

The blue and yellow eyes of his grandmother had Winzlow shaking on the floor. The doctor had started to throw up when faced with something distinguish he thought was real, but Winzlow was frozen in place on the floor when faced with something he knew was not real. It could not be real. This was past him. He had gotten away. He had his family, his Insurgency. This woman was dead, hopefully in hell or at least trapped in a vault he had personally designed to survive internal and external assaults with anomalous weaponry.

Winzlows training, his contingency plans, everything was mute now. Everything save for his last plan. Please doctor, do something stupid.

The doctor's mind, on the other hand, had just experienced disgust, fear, relief, and was currently dangling on confusion. The old lady now in front of him looked like something from a stock photo. But from the way Winzlow was cowering on the floor, he had a pretty good idea that she was more than just grandma. Actually, he was getting more big bad wolf vibes from granny than anything else.

Winzlows grandmother now stood at his feet. She gripped a cane in her left hand as if she was holding on for dear life. "You lazy good for nothing! Look at the state you put this place is in!" She raised the cane, it's ivory hilt glistening in the firelight before being swiftly down.

Yep, definite a big bad wolf.

Winzlow covered his body with his arms. The pain felt familiar yet worse than he remembered. He glanced up for a second before the cane swung down again. "YOU!" Another swing, "LOUSY GOOD FOR NOTHING!" He shielded his face from an oncoming attack, only to have her swing twice as hard. "Look at me when I talk to you GOD-DAMMIT!" And their eyes met for a brief second before the shovel connected with her head.

As she fell, the doctor stood half triumphant, half shaken at his work. "Uhh, that was…" He took a moment to find the words "Interesting, to say the least," He looked at the old lady he probably just bludgeoned to death. And then the agent, who he had just save from being bludgeoned to death. "Come on," he extended his hand towards Winzlow, who grabbed it wholeheartedly. "let's get out of here." The doctor then whispered, "Besides she might not be dead yet."

Winzlow gave him his best WTF face as he heard movement from behind him. And sure enough, his grandmother was back on her feet. Only now, she seemed slightly less human and more monstrous.

He turned back at Anthony and tried his best to explain his thoughts. "Ok, that" He pointed at his grandmother "is my grandmother. She is my worst fear. Are you following me?" He sent another glance at the horrid creature morphing in front of his eyes before checking the Doctors confirming nod. "Good, I need you to kill me."

"What?!" The Doctor looked up at the monstrosity towering over them, "Never mind" And as he said the words he swung the shovel down on Winzlows head.

When Anthony looked up, he stood in a large stone room surrounded by some rather vicious looking sleestaks. And in a calm tone, he said one word.


Addendum to: Final report on Incident "Dropdown-06-7tz"

Lead-investigators statement regarding the aftermath of "Dropdown-06-7tz"

After the sandstorm had cleared I was send out to recover the package and the two Insurgents that had taken it. Dr. Anthony Feribald could be recovered alive. He seems mentally distant and not fully aware of his surroundings. Agent Winzlow Herrill was recovered dead. He seems to have a bludgeoning wound on his head, which would match the characteristic of a shovel that was recovered from the scene. It seems to be the same shovel used to demolish the car the two had arrived in. It seems someone wanted to make it look like there had been a car crash, but since there was nothing to drive the car into, the shovel was used to simulate such an accident. The sand surrounding the scene was mixed with snow. Measures of the water content surrounding the area suggest that the snow had a height of about 5cm before it melted in the time between its creation and our recovery team finding the two missing insurgents. We can reasonably assume that the snow came from the package. The package recovered had been opened and contained a fully grown purple flower of on unknown species. It seemed to have bloomed out here in the desert, as its roots had penetrated the water soaked bottom of the package. The package furthermore contained a sealed plastic bag with 6 bulbs of presumably the same species of flower.
Regarding Agent Winzlow Herrill: He was found holding a piece of paper, containing some personal information regarding the death of the agents Grandmother. A dice with just ones on each side was discovered in the sand next to him. The die and the piece of paper seem to correspond to an opened hidden compartment in the agents jacket. Notes recovered from one of agent Herrills offices suggest that this was part of one of his contingencies against mind affecting anomalies.
Regarding the death of Winzlow Herrill and the further proceedings with Dr. Anthony Feribald:
Dr. Anthony Feribald sometimes mumbles that the agent had instructed the doctor to kill him and that the agent was sure of this. Interviews with agent Herrills team seem to contradict this statement. Agent Herrill seemingly feared death, death by the hands of another insurgent in particular. Rough Insurgency operatives are listed as one of the top three fears of agent Herrill in his annual psychological reports. His team further confirmed that the agent would not have considered suicide, if he had seen another method or knew his mind was affected. He was also a prolific user of the Self-KO-Pill a measure implemented to stop suicide by insurgents under the Influence of mind altering anomalies. The die found at the scene suggest that the agent was aware that his mind was affected, making the instruction the doctor believes to have received more than unlikely. Further investigation into Dr. Anthony Feribald suggest that he truly believes that the agent instructed his own murder. Anthony Feribald is to be instituted for a partial rebuild. If necessary amnestics will be used, but the doctors at the institution claim that normal psycho therapy will be sufficient and that the doctors mental scares could be healed without anomalous application. Estimated recovery time: 2 weeks. Complete recovery: 0,5 to 5 years.
The death of agent Winzlow Herrill is regarded as an accident during recovery of "Fear-Snow Flower". His body is cleared for experimentation or reconstruction.

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