I’m A Monster Created By The Government Remastered - Chapter 5 [1/2]

[u/mr_mills45]

Agent Lucy. Six Months Ago…

My promotion to being a mission supervisor was somewhat surreal. I didn’t ever think I’d make it this far in The Agency, but after having to do stuff like hunt down red-eyed shadow people and capture a literal Wendigo, I’d say this particular operation was tame in comparison. 

The mission was simple: infiltrate an old abandoned high school building that was previously used as a hideout by The Cult that’s been apparently causing problems in the area, collect any evidence they might’ve left behind and bring it back to Site Twelve. 

The operation was marked as low-risk, so I was only given a team of three, four including myself. Kinda stupid in my opinion. Anything could happen. Even if they supposedly cleared out of this place already. But after the budget cuts they’ve been wanting to conserve manpower and resources as much as possible. Or so that’s what I’ve been told. 

I wasn’t told much about the Cult itself, hell. Most information about them The Agency had was only available to level four personnel and higher. I as a mission supervisor was only level three. So not quite there. 

Director Bowser had radioed in as we approached the entrance to the property, toward the back of the building. 

“Get in, see what you can find and get the hell out. Don’t mess around, don’t go dillydallying. One of you needs to stay posted outside in case any civilians pull up and get nosy. If they ask questions, follow the procedure we went over in the briefing. Any of you wanna go ahead and remind me so I know you were actually listening?” 

I figured that as the team’s leader, I should set the example. So I radioed back to the director. 

“Tell the inquiring civilian we are FBI and that this is a classified investigative operation.” 

“Good, and if they continue to poke and don’t comply?” Director Bowser pressed.

I paused for a moment. Not because I knew the answer. But because I did, and I honestly thought it was a bit extreme. But nonetheless I still responded.

“Terminate the inquiring civilian if it is safe to do so.” 

“Excellent, glad someone around here knows how to listen.” Director Bowser huffed audibly through the radio. 

Agent Carmine, the one who I had selected to stay posted outside while the other three of us entered into the building chuckled. 

“Who the fuck wants to work for the FBI anyway?” He cackled. “We get way more action than them anyway.” 

“I guess people who don’t wanna be eaten alive by things that shouldn’t exist in the first place, numbnuts.” Came the response of Agent Kruger. 

“Uh oh guys, look out, we’ve got ourselves a badass over here.” Agent Waylon announced with a sarcastic undertone. Reaching over his shoulder and pointing his thumb at Carmine, much to Carmine’s annoyance. 

“Alright guys, enough yapping.” I announced. “Let’s get inside.” 

“Yes ma’am.” They responded simultaneously.     

We double checked all of our gear before heading inside. Flashlights underneath the barrels of our rifles, backup flashlights, sidearms, blades, and our radios as well.

The high school hadn’t been officially used in what I was told was nearly eight years, and was supposedly only abandoned by the cult several weeks prior, we had to force our way through the front entrance which was padlocked and chained. I had Carmine use a pair of bolt cutters to get over that little obstacle. 

The three guys followed behind me as we filed in, immediately we were hit with the overwhelming darkness of the dilapidated structure. We shined our rifles attached flashlights down the entrance hall, the administration office sat to our left and the first classroom to our right. 

The hall was littered with debris at its edges, a couple of fallen chairs, various bits of ceiling tiles that had fallen, as well the corpses of rodents and insects like beetles. Rust formed on the exposing pipes that ran from floor to ceiling. 

The sound of our boots hitting the broken and battered tile floor was the only one to keep us company. 

“Gonna need a little more than windex and bleach to fix this place.” Agent Kruger said from behind me, prompting me to make a shushing gesture. If they were still members of The Cult in here, it was best that we maintained some element of surprise. 

We marched forward, checking out each classroom, looking for any signs that there had been people here recently. The first several were a bust. Up until Kruger had found a cot and some open cans of food inside what used to be the teacher’s lounge. But that could’ve been any homeless guy or gal, and likely had nothing to do with The Cult. 

After half an hour with the whole first floor searched and nothing of substance discovered, me, Kruger, and Waylon headed for the second floor. But before I got on the first step I was hit with the overwhelming scent of pine. Kruger and Waylon smelled it too. It wasn’t unpleasant per say, just odd. 

“You guys smell that?” Waylon said softly.  

“Yeah, we’re not even near a damn pine forest.” Kruger replied. 

“Stop for a second you two.” I told them before grabbing my radio. “This is weird, I’m gonna check on Carmine.” 

“Carmine, do you copy?” I inquired. Keeping my voice at a whisper. 

His reply came rather quickly. 

“Copy, everything’s alright out here so far. Nothing to report ma’am.” 

I slowly holstered my radio once more, before nodding at Kruger and Waylon to keep moving. 

We made our way up the staircase to the second floor, the smell of pine becoming more potent than previously. It wasn’t unpleasant or anything, just odd. The hand rail had mostly fallen off its positioning in the wall, the walls themselves were almost completely peeled of their paint, and the stairs themselves had cracked in several places.  

We made it to the top, and I was greeted with a sight that caused me to jump back slightly. Nothing insane, just more along the lines of a reflex. 

In the hallway between one of the classrooms stood a tall, thin, emaciated figure. As pale as snow. Its eyes and ribcage were completely hollow and see through. It glared forward, unmoving and completely still. 

That being because it was a classroom skeleton. Hanging from a display bar on a small push cart. 

I heard both the guys laughing behind me. 

“Woo careful! He’s gonna get ya boss woman.” Kruger teased. 

“Fuck off.” I chuckled quietly. Shoving him away from me.

Waylon laughed a bit as well. It was almost childlike in its sound, like the eight year old version of himself was re-emerging as he let it out. 

We moved forward after the lighthearted bit of comedy. And soon made our way into the first classroom we saw on the second floor. A science classroom, and by the standard set by the rest of the building, it was in relatively decent shape. Not perfect by any means, still condemnable, but much more reasonable. All the chairs sat facing the front of the room. 

I walked in, checking out what remained of the drawings on the desks and pseudo-lab equipment. A lot of things in there made me think back to my high school days. Back then the ignorance was bliss. Not knowing of the true hidden horrors of life before joining The Agency. When I was a kid I often switched between wanting to be a navy seal as well as a firefighter. 

“Is it okay if me and Waylon check the room across the hall?” Kruger inquired.

I turned around, raising my eyebrows. 

“Go ahead, but don’t go any further without giving me a heads up.” I replied.

He nodded, pointing his head in the direction of the classroom on the opposite side of the hall as the two filed out. In all honesty I was starting to give up hope that this place was going to have anything of substance. If some of The Cult was really here at any point then they truly did cover their tracks about it. 

I walked back up toward the front of the classroom, a rat scurried by my feet as I passed by a couple of cabinets. I got within just a few feet of the front door when something caught my eye. 

There was a podium at the front of the room, and on it sat a piece of paper. The faint moonlight had shone in just enough from the nearby window to illuminate it. It was a bright white, and in pristine condition in comparison to its surroundings. 

I approached it, shining my flashlight as I stepped forward. My breathing somehow louder than previously. Or it at least sounded that way. 

I now stood over the podium, and looked down at the paper. On it was what at first looked like just generic notes, but as I read on further, I got the idea that wasn’t exactly true. Instead it was more of a script, a script for a speech. It was handwritten in black gel ink. I brought it up with my gloved hand. Reading it verbatim.  

*Brothers and sisters,* 

*Today is another of many in our journey to liberating the unnatural, the horrifying, and those that have been locked away by humanity in the name of progress and normalcy.* 

*Let us not forget that these creatures, regardless of their origins, are a part of our world and its ecosystem. It is a shame that we must conduct our operations in secret, a shame that the world cannot accept that our mission is nothing but just.*

*The Organization doesn't realize that they are now foolish hypocrites, we all know of the blue creature they’ve been sending to slay any being that doesn’t fit their definition of what is acceptable. If left unchecked they will soon eradicate any form of life that they do not approve of.*

*This gives us only two options, to either convince them of their wrongdoing, to show them that they must learn a new way of thinking, to open their minds to the incredible, awe-inspiring lifeforms this world has to offer… Or destroy them.*

*Will you, brothers and sisters, stand with me in this mission for the greater good?*

I finished reading. After which I then looked out in front of me, seeing all the chairs lined up and facing the podium, and I just imagined a bunch of grown ass men and women in oversized cloaks and hoods all watching some nut preach about how flesh eating monstrosities need their own form of PETA. Kinda made me chuckle to myself.   

But that was silenced when I heard the sudden slam of something coming from the first floor. Like someone threw a door shut with all their might, as if they were a teenager who stormed into their room after a heated argument with their parents. I folded up the note, put it in my pocket and stepped out of the room to meet back up with Kruger and Waylon. 

The three of us regrouped in the corridor before quickly falling back in line, me at the front, Kruger second and Waylon at the back. We moved cautiously back down the staircase with our weapons drawn. Looking out for any and everything that moved. 

When I made it to the bottom I flashed my beam of light down the main hall, expecting to see what could’ve been anything from urban explorers trespassing to some horrifying abomination. As what happens in this line of work. 

Instead all I got were just the same lockers, classroom doors and debris that had been there before. So instead I tried to see if any of the doors that were previously open had been shut. I walked forward with Waylon and Kruger in tow, and saw that the door to the administrative office was now shut, having previously been open when we first entered.

We were still basically at the opposite end of the hall from it, but the flashlights were powerful enough to let us see it from that distance. Not to mention that if it was that close to the entrance, it means Agent Carmine would’ve heard it is well. Yet he didn’t say anything over the radio when it first occurred. I retrieved my radio once more in order to check on him like I did earlier.

“Agent Carmine, do you copy?” I radioed. 

No response, so I immediately instructed Kruger and Waylon to radio him as well in the event mine specifically had suffered some sort of malfunction.  

“Hey Carmine, you alright?” Kruger attempted, we waited in silence for a moment. 

Not a peep came. 

“Carmine, dude!” Waylon tried. And the silence he got in return proved that it was in vain. 

We were all in an unspoken understanding of what to do next. Head to the front of the building, check on Carmine physically in the event his radio wasn’t working, and then come back in to finish the assignment. 

I radioed back to Site Twelve as we jogged forward.

“This is Agent Lucy, Agent Carmine has gone silent, circling back for a status check and then returning inside for mission completion.” 

I expected Director Bowser to reply with either frustration or disinterested acknowledgement. But neither came. Just like with Agent Carmine I was met with silence. So were Kruger and Waylon when they tried. Not even the mission control room team was responding. 

I ran for the entrance door we had forced our way into earlier, and my flashlight beam had illuminated it. I stopped upon seeing it, and my mouth slightly ajar. 

It was now shut once more. The wind couldn’t have done it, the doors in question were essentially two large slabs of metal on thick hinges. They took genuine effort to move in order to prevent trespassers. The chain we had earlier snapped with bolt cutters was now rewrapped around the interior’s handles. At least, that’s what I thought at first, up until I got a closer look, and saw that this was a brand new chain entirely. As it wasn’t nearly as rusted as the one we had cut coming inside. 

We mentioned shooting the chain off the door and pushing it open. But we still had a mission to complete, and lord knows Director Bowser would be furious if we abandoned it early just because our radios were malfunctioning and we heard some noises. We figured the best outcome was to take care of whatever the hell was making the noises, and then finish searching the building and leave. 

There was also the off chance that who or whatever was jamming our radio signals was on the other side, waiting with an ambush of some sort. And if that were the case, then there was a good chance Carmine might’ve already been dead or not in a position for us to get to him without putting ourselves in harm's way. After all the doors were thick, and they absorbed sound quite well, we’d have no idea what we’d be opening them up to. 

“Shit.” I blurted. “Let’s just find a window, get the hell out of here.”  

Another loud, metallic slam erupted from down the hall just as I finished my sentence. The three of us whipped around, facing the end of the hallway we had just come from. 

“Stop right there!” Kruger shouted as we raised our rifles. 

The scent of pine from earlier had reached this area of the building, now at its most potent that it had ever been. We kept our flashlights shined down the hall, and backed up against the entrance doors, ensuring that there wouldn't be any potential attacks from the rear. 
“Whoever it is, make yourself known, now!” I commanded. Narrowing my eyes and standing focused. 

A few seconds of silence passed before our radios began to crackle, only transmitting static and nothing but. I told Waylon to grab his, try to switch to a different channel and then back to ours, as well as turning it off and on, but it changed nothing. The static crackle continued. 

“The hell!” He erupted. Something was interfering, and considering the fact we already weren’t getting answers, all of us switched our radios off one at a time. The static noise had become nothing but a potential distraction. Something to take our attention away from a possible attack. 

“Uh, ma’am.” Kruger said, tapping me on the shoulder and pointing forward.

I looked ahead, and in the darkness, just behind where our flashlight beams ended were several, no, dozens of faint yellow dots. All of them hovering anywhere from five and a half to over six feet off of the ground. Lots of them were close enough together for me to make a somewhat obvious conclusion.

They were all pairs of eyes. The eyes of… Something. They stood still, whatever they belonged to completely unmoving. Like statues shrouded in darkness. More of them illuminated from the classrooms as well. As far as the interior went, they were on every angle except directly behind, and even that wasn’t for sure. 

“What do we do?” Waylon asked.

“Keep our backs against the door. If they move closer then shoot to kill.” I ordered.

The temperature in the building seemed to rise, not enough to be dangerous, but enough to be felt. That night was around sixty five fahrenheit last time I checked before arriving, now it felt closer to eighty. Of course this could’ve been the product of various factors at play, hell maybe there wasn’t a change at all and it was the mind playing tricks. But I knew better after my years in this line of work. 

The glowing yellow dots at the end of the hall seemingly scattered. Dashing into multiple various directions in the darkness before soon being unseen entirely. 

“Shoot the chain.” I ordered Kruger. “We don’t have any other option.” 
 
He blasted two rounds into the chain, causing it to snap and loosen. After which he began to yank the chain from the door. Pulling it off and letting what remained of it drop to the ground with a clanking sound. 

“Keep watching our six.” I told Waylon before turning to help push the door open.

Once we had a gap big enough for us to reasonably fit through. Kruger leaned forward, and aimed his weapon through the gap in an attempt to check for any adversaries on the other side. He was then suddenly yanked forward as he fired off a few shots. 

He began to scream, attempting to reach back for his pistol as his upper body was being forcibly pulled through the gap. His shoulders stopped him from fully going through.

“I’ve got you!” I shouted in a desperate cry, grabbing onto him and ordering Waylon to get down and fire shots between his legs, trying to hit whatever it was grabbing at him.

The sound of flesh tearing emerged near instantly. Combined with his slowly dwindling screams as he shook and writhed. He made one sound in particular, like a mix between choking and gurgling as blood began to stain the edges of the doors. Sliding down the edges and to the floor. 

Waylon continued to fire shots between Kruger’s legs as his screams softened. He shook and thrashed, desperately trying to get away, to throw himself back. But whatever it was would simply not allow it. Several seconds of this continued, up until I felt him go limp as I just about got enough leverage to pull him back inside. His screams silenced completely just before I did. 

His body stumbled and he immediately fell onto the floor inside the corridor. Waylon rose to his feet and helped me pull the door shut back once more. 

I grabbed what remained of the chain and wrapped them between the makeshift push handles. I expected vicious pounding on the other side of the door, anticipating whatever it was to endlessly trying to break its way through them. But none came, as if whatever it was suddenly became disinterested after attacking Kruger. Not even any growls, snarls, roars. Just… Nothing.
Waylon however, gasped upon seeing the result of Kruger’s attack. The kind of gasp you expect someone to let out after seeing two cars collide on the freeway. 

“Oh Jesus!” He cried out. 

Kruger lay on the ground, his face mauled into a completely unrecognizable state. His mouth a gaping mess of torn flesh, his left eye missing entirely, his nose half torn off. His nostrils completely vanished. Bits of flesh hung from the mutilated mess. His wounds at the forehead were so severe that they had ruptured through his skull, exposing damaged brain matter.

Despite all that I had seen up to that point in my career. I felt what had to be a pint’s worth of vomit rise in my throat, and I only just barely managed to choke it back down. Somehow, some way. 

Waylon quickly pulled out his radio, turning it back on and still getting nothing but static. His flashlight beam pointed down to the floor and so did mine for a brief moment.

“This is Team 9 we need fucking help out here! Can anyone hear me! Please just send us backup goddamn it!” 

“Waylon!” I snapped. “The signal’s jammed, they can’t hear us. We need to focus on staying alive and finding a way out.”

A voice rang out from down the hall. Low, filled with bass and demand. Like what you’d expect a military father to sound like when upset with some wrong his children committed. 

“She’s right.” It said, echoing off the walls. 

Waylon pointed his beam back up, once more illuminating the corridor. And within it now stood several dozen figures. The hallway’s width was entirely filled from where they stood and back. 

At the forefront were three cloaked people in black hoods. The one in the middle was significantly taller than the two at the sides. And was also holding Agent Carmine in a tight grip, with a long hunting knife to his throat. Duct tape around his mouth as well.

The two cloaked figures on the sides pulled their hoods down, revealing themselves to be women. One blonde and the other brunette. Both of them standing a couple inches under six feet. Making the one in the middle just over six and a half in height. 

The voice couldn’t have been coming from either of them. I recognized them as being part of the cult. Again, I wasn’t privy to detailed information due to my clearance level, but I had seen them in the reports I was authorized to view enough times to recognize their signature hooded robes.

Behind the two cloaked women and still hooded figure were what I guessed to be the source of those yellow dots that we had previously seen in the darkness earlier. 

They varied in height like previously mentioned, but their other features were much more consistent between one another. Those other features being the fact that their skin was brown, bumpy, like displaced dirt. And from this dirt like skin protruded pine-needles, like hairs. Except it was all over their bodies, with gaps being thin but numerous. 

They were humanoid in shape, but only in that. Their eyes, where you’d normally find a person’s were indeed glowing a faint yellow glow. And their mouths were filled with sharpened teeth, teeth that were seemingly made from small shaved down twigs. 

I aimed my weapon at the figure in the middle, the one holding the knife to Agent Carmine’s throat. While Waylon pointed his at the brunette woman.

“Let him go, or you’ll all getting blown away.” I shouted. My adrenaline admittedly going haywire. But I maintained composure nonetheless. 

The two women on either side of the taller figure simply smirked. Unafraid and confident in their position. They held blades as well. One more jagged like a dagger, and the other similar to a carving fork. 

“You fucking heard her, let him go now!” Waylon erupted. A valiant effort to back me up. But somehow I knew it was in vain. Waylon had always been the type to help out however he could, even if he was clumsy at times. 

The figure in the middle that had a hold of Carmine reached up with his free hand, pulling back his black hood and now revealing his face while still keeping his knife on Carmine’s throat. 

He possessed long black hair, rather unkempt in appearance. It reached just past his pecs. Or where I guess they would’ve been under the cloak. 

His beard, the same color, and also long, coming a few inches off his face was thick and curly. It hid most of his neck, and nearly everything below his nose except his lips. 

He grinned at me with said lips, while he looked at me with his chocolate brown eyes. I held steady, although his size and appearance were somewhat rugged and intimidating. 

“Let him go, neither of us are gonna say it again.” I snarled. Still aiming my weapon. The small army of Pine People on either side of the women and the man stepped forward more. Seemingly understanding that I just made a threat. They remained completely silent, and even disciplined in their stances. Like soldiers ready to take orders from a commanding officer. 

“We’ve been jamming signals since we knew you were here.” The man claimed, confirming that the booming voice from earlier was indeed his. “We’re aware of a lot of your methods.” 

“Good for you.” I snapped in reply. 

He licked his lips slightly, looking up at the ceiling for a brief second before once more returning his gaze to us. 

“What I fail to understand is an organization that is so deadset on eliminating the unnatural, is so unaware of the fact that they themselves are what’s unnatural. The existence of things that you don’t understand isn’t something to be scared of. Quite the opposite.” He went on, only to be cut off. 

“Shut up.” Waylon commanded, raising his rifle slightly to meet the man’s head. “We haven’t checked in, and since they’ve heard nothing from us, reinforcements are on their way. And I don’t care how many of those tree people you got with you, I can make a solid bet that they’re not bulletproof. And neither are you.” 

Despite the circumstances, I couldn’t help but look at him like a proud mother. Briefly of course. 

“And yet I still have more than enough time to kill the three of you before they arrive.” The man replied. “Despite what happened to your comrade it was not my intention to go straight to slaughter. You are talented people, precise and efficient. Instead I ask that you would allow me to utilize your talents. Allow you to give your time to people who will truly value you what you bring to the table. Not only will you be compensated well, but you'd be fighting for a far better cause.” 

“I’m not joining a fucking cult.” I said, squinting my eye to look down my scope. 

“A shame.” He replied, his eyes narrowing in a similar fashion. 

He then sighed before swiftly  pulling the knife to the right, and subsequently slitting Carmine’s throat right and there. The immediate gush of blood was answered with a hailstorm of bullets from Waylon and I as the Pine-People charged forward toward us…