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Rated: 13+ · Fiction · Action/Adventure · #2182232
A cult unleash an evil spirit upon a group of unsuspecting soldiers...
Cynthia looked around the area with a sigh. Her five man squad was a mess; two greens and three she knew well. Stooge; a hulking Sergeant from Alabama with a long beard and a penchant for being rough with the recruits was one and with a height of 6ft4 that got him kicked from the Tank Corp, his original outfit, he was not a man to sniff at. Kilgor was the second. He was a man with a small build who, despite being quite gifted with a scoped rifle at range, was only in the army due to his love of all the old war movies. His small frame wasn't helped by his chubby face, wispy blonde hair and short height, leaving him about as intimidating as a mouse. The last was Kelly, her second in command. A broad shouldered Irishman who was called 'The Iron Outlaw' by his subordinates thanks to a badly times grenade throw that left his face riddled with bits of fragmentation. But all that only made his brick jaw, grey-blue eyes and light brown hair more tough looking to those who saw him.

Cynthia however was different from the three non-redshirts. She was a tall woman with an ample chest with a hips and ass combo to match. Her face was long and striking, with high cheekbones and an almost always relaxed expression that made her seem like a Femme Fatale from a Noir movie. Her pale, smooth skin, long bright red hair and light green eyes made her look like a doll rather than a soldier. Except for the scar. The scar that cut from the right corner of her mouth to her brow, going through her left eye. She wore a standard bullet proof vest over a black t-shirt that was tucked into a set of camouflage combat trousers that loosely hung onto her thin body that was clearly more suited for heels and cocktail dresses rather than combat boots and fatigues.

Without the scar and her family's long history of service, the woman could've been a model and she knew it as she took a long drink from her metal canteen through her plump, red lips with a resentful glare at the two new men she'd been sent into the jungle with. She'd not even bothered to learn their names, deliberately not looking at their chests to see their first initial and surname on the olive drab uniforms. She called one 'Diving Watch,' based on the bulky chrome watch he wore and the other was 'Pool' on account of him being thrown into a pool before she first met him, making him stink of chlorine and drip water onto the dingy yellow vinyl floor of her office back at Fort Hope.

Now she was stuck with them. Along the western Brazilian border in a black operation that officially did not exist. They'd been dispatched to find a group who called themselves the P.G.G. or the Possession General Gendarmerie. They didn't know much about the French-founded splinter group, all they knew for sure was they were few in number but had stolen some kind of powerful new occult weapon from the French before crossing the channel, demanding change in the policies of the Government or else they'll use whatever it is on civilian targets. Thanks to some twisting from the French, they'd convinced the United States to send 'Task Force 9' to secure the target, leaving Cynthia with her team to stumble through the ham-handed operation.

Kelly took point, shouldering his rifle before starting to hack his way through the jungle with a machete, chewing on a small hunk of Tobacco, occasionally spitting out a glob of thick, black gunk from is mouth as he went. Behind him was Cynthia, having ordered her men to keep their eyes out for anyone trying to flank them or get close enough for contact.

"So..." Diving Watch said to his expendable comrade, his rifle loosely hung in his hands, "What the fuck are we even looking for out here?"
"How should I know? I've heard about as much as you about this op." Pool hissed back. He was clearly more nervous as his knuckles white from gripping his rifle as he scanned the foliage all around him.

Diving Watch sighed, "I was just thinking tha-"

"Quiet back there!" Came a grunt from the tall Irishman upfront as he turned his head to scold the pair only to suddenly be cut off by the sudden sound of gunfire.

Bullets came buzzing through the bushes all around them. "Contact!" Their commander yelled and all of the soldiers dived to the ground with the exception of Diving Watch who didn't jump soon enough and caught one in the shoulder, making him scream in pain. Kelly quickly broke cover to grab him and pull him behind a small rock outcrop whilst Cynthia and Kilgor began to cover him, firing off small bursts into the trees around them. Pool was cowering behind a tree having dropped his rifle and was now covering his ears and shaking in terror. Small puffs of dirt sprung up around the group occasionally accompanied by a dull thud of a bullet striking wood or the crack of metal on rock.

As soon as the attack had started it had ended and soon all was silent in the jungle. Only the moans of pain from Diving Watch and Pool's whimpers could be heard.

Cynthia stood up from her cover and looked around for a second before turning back to her men to do a headcount just in time to see Pool bolting into the woods.

"Where the hell is he going?" Kelly roared as he looked up from bandaging Diving Watch.

"I don't know! You hold the fort, I'll go get him!" Cynthia yelled behind her as she sprinted after the runaway. She jumped over a long, ducked below a low branch and all the while she was yelling out for the private. Then she lost the trail. Stopping for a minute, she scanned the area with her eyes, trying to pick out anything amongst the lush green all around her. A yell. Her eyes snap to where it came from and she sets off again, eventually coming to a small clearing with what looked like a shack in the center. With slow, careful movements she crawled up to it and placed an eye to one of the cracks to look inside.

She immediately regretted her choice.

Inside she saw five men clad in loose, old, mismatched combat gear all brandishing guns of various kinds. In the center she saw Pool, terrified and wide eyed like a deer in headlights. The largest of the group of captors smirked as he pulled a large book from his jacket and started to read. Four voices from those around him started to chant along with him. Pool was fighting hard to escape his bonds, struggling until one smacked him in the skull with a rifle butt with an awful crack. Soon the group was in horrific uproar as a mass of black mist with the occasional flashes of something red within rose up from the broken planks of the shack's floor and enveloped Pool as he bite and chewed as his rope gag. But then the mist stopped and seemed to shift away from the body of Pool as it dropped to the floor, dead. Blood seeped from a gash in his head, the blow from before must've done more damage than intended.

Cynthia let out the tiniest gasp at this sight, having managed to keep herself silent throughout all the rest and the mist seemed to hear. It lunged at her and poured through the cabin walls as the five men burst out of the shack and raised their rifles at her but didn't shoot. Instead they backed off and let the mist circle her as she tried to back away.

The black mist coiled and reared as she swung at it with her knife, only from the blade to pass through the gaseous mass. Now seemingly content with its new prize, the mass engulfed the officer as she yelled out in protest.

The gas seemed to poke and prod at her face until it found her mouth, with her plump lips tightly clamed shut. Almost amused by this, it pressed into them until it gained a grip before tugging them open and starting to flow into her mouth. Her throat bulged and pulsed as the gas forced its way into her. She thrashed and squirmed around as it forced more of itself into her until she finally felt the last of it creep itself way into her body.

Now collapsing to the floor, she shuddered as she felt it writhing around within her body as if it was wriggling into a new set of clothing. The she felt it take control of her arm. It stopped shaking and clenched, the fingers moving around curiously. Soon her other arm followed. Then her torso and legs until only her head remained. Finally the blackening veins appeared around her neck as she looked up to the sky, opening her mouth to scream as they creeped through her face as her vision went dark.


Her eyes snapped open. Instead of the lovely, light green eyes they were totally black marbles in her head, shifting and rolling in her head until they settled and cleared leaving them looking normal except for the iris' now being a deep, dark red. The same red that lurked in the black mist.

"T-this body... Is acceptable..." She groaned before a cackle escaped her lips. Her tongue slid across her lips as she clamped her hands to her chest and began to squeeze, moaning each time she did so. The Officer ran her hands over her succulent curves as if exploring it all for the first time in her life. Pinching and prodding at her flesh as she tore away her sweaty clothing and felt up her tight and lithe body with sinister glee.

The new Cynthia picked up the dropped knife the old user had used to no avail and looked to the five militaristic cultists who'd summoned her, all five with P.P.G. on their arms. None of them even had time to scream before the knife ended their lives.
Next the possessed Officer grabbed a rifle from the floor and strolled through the woods nonchalantly until it found her squad. Kelly smiled and waved to his Officer but the smile quickly dropped as she raised the rifle and squeezed the trigger, smiling wildly all the while.

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