Typhoon

Typhoon

Man's thirst for knowledge in integral to his very being. However, this thirst may also very well be our undoing. Eventually we will discover something over which we have no control, and that will ultimately destroy us.

(M.J Bates, Department of Human Psychology: 1999)

All the brave men are dead.

(Russian Military Proverb)

First Assault:

12 Nov 04: Ministry of Magic building - Department of Mysteries.

1030h

Albert Heinemann wiped his brow and ran his hand back across where he used to have hair. He turned his attention back to the object as it sat in its evacuated glass container. After a moment he looked up at his other colleague.

'Ok, Janine. We'll run one more test and then break off for lunch.'

'Sounds good,' replied Janine.

Albert flipped over to the next page in the volume in his lap, and read through the next test sequence.

'Ok, here goes.'

He began to mutter under his breath as Janine looked on, then flourished his wand and pointed it at the case.

WHUMP!

A ball of blue light flew from the end of his wand and settled around the test subject. Slowly the blue glow began to increase, pulsating slowly.

'Janine, are you seeing this?'

No answer, he looked over at where Janine was standing, gaze transfixed by the artifact. More light was streaming from the case, shooting out in all directions. The light was so bright it was painful to look at.

Albert began to back away slowly. 'Janine, sound the alarm. Prepare to evacuate the buildi--'

THUDOOM!

* * *

13 Nov 04: Ministry of Magic - Visitors' Entrance

0245h

The two British Telecom minivans rolled to a halt outside the nondescript telephone booth. Michelle Dominguez watched them closely from the shadows as black clad commandos swarmed from one vehicle, eight men in all: black Kevlar body armor, black PASGT helmets and Heckler and Koch MP-5KA4 sub machineguns. With any luck no-one in the street would be awake at this time in the morning. If they were, it was hoped that all they would see was the two vans, and not the commandos. From the other vehicle stepped another man, similarly attired, but with a sand coloured beret in the place of a helmet. He looked quickly around, then walked toward Michelle and her companions, two of the Ministry's surviving Aurors.

'I'm looking for Second Lieutenant Dominguez,' said the man. 'Is he here?'

The grimacing at the automatic assumption that she would be male, Michelle stepped forward, snapping off a sharp salute.

'Second Lieutenant Michelle Dominguez, British Royal Marines reporting sir.'

The man returned the gesture. 'Major Samuel Kurtz: D-squadron of Her Majesty's SAS. I believe you're our Liaison Officer.'

'That's right sir. I'm a Squib: magical born, but incapable of doing the stuff.'

'Whatever,' returned the Major coolly. 'Sergeant Thorn!'

One of the commandos ran over. 'Sir?'

'Sergeant, this is Second Lieutenant Dominguez. Dominguez, you'll be attached to the Sergeant's team.'

'Pleased to meet, ma'am,' said the sergeant, throwing her a salute.

Michelle took in the man; he must have been over six feet tall, and looked like he beat up packs of wolves for a hobby. However, his face was split in a wide, friendly grin.

'Same to you Sergeant.'

The Major was talking again. 'Thank you Sergeant. Lieutenant; may I have a word?'

He led Michelle over a short distance from the group and turned to her. Behind them the inside of the phone booth glowed blue as the SAS went to work on its floor with an oxy-torch; giving the impression to Michelle that she was talking to a silhouette.

'Let me make myself very clear girl. You are here today as an observer only. If something looks out of place down there, you tell me. However; if you get in the way of my men, or my operation, I will have no hesitation in pulling you right out of there and sending you straight back to where you came from. Clear?'

'Completely, sir.'

'Good,' replied the major. 'Then change out of that bloody ridiculous garb and get kitted up.'

With that, Kurtz turned sharply on his heel and headed back towards his command vehicle. Michelle sighed inwardly.

Joy. It was going to be one of those missions.

She walked back to where her two companions were sitting, unclasping her dark grey witches' robes as she did so. What she wore underneath would have seemed very out of place in most magical circles, but blended in nicely with the SAS commandos: black combat fatigues, black Kevlar flack jacket and combat vest. From the ground she picked up a black PASGT helmet and a set of clear Smith and Wesson "CODE 4" flack glasses. When they were firmly affixed she knelt down and picked up the final part of her kit, it was a shotgun; an ultra high-tech Benelli "Nova" Tactical, the latest firearm from the Italian manufacturer. With an extended magazine it was capable of holding six, three and a half inch long, 12-guage shotgun shells.

Sergeant Thorn was just finishing checking his own equipment when Michelle squatted down in front of him.

'Well I'm set, how about you?'

The big sergeant looked up from where he was giving his MP-5 the once over.

'Pretty much, ma'am; let me introduce you to the rest of the squad. This is Corporal Brookes.'

The sandy haired man waved cheerily from where he was seated, calmly having a smoke.

'Brookes is our Rad-comms. You'd better see him later so you can talk to us when we get down there; and these are Corporals Weitzman and Forge.'

Michelle looked down at where the two men were crouched sorting out their kit. They didn't even look up. There was a grunt from their general vicinity that may have been a hello, but she couldn't really make it out.

'Anyway,' continued Thorn, 'we're Team Bravo. Brookes! Get over here!'

The corporal scrambled to his feet and made his way over to where they were standing then turned to Michelle.

'Ok, ma'am. We're on channel four two, and you'll need this.'

He rummaged around in his webbing, pulled something out and threw it to her. Michelle snatched it out of the air. She opened her hand; in it was a sliver of black plastic, about the size of her thumbnail, with a series of gold electrical contacts on one end.

'It's a decoder chip, ma'am. You'll need it to talk to us.'

Michelle reached down and inserted the thing into its receiver slot of her radio, then turned it to channel forty-two.

'Right ma'am, we'll run a check. You got a mic?'

Michelle tapped her throat.

'Oh, right. Ok then, go ahead.'

She keyed her transmitter and spoke into the throat-mic strapped around her neck. The thing resembled a chocker collar, but with a small black box attached at the front instead of jewelry. Its purpose was to pick up vibrations in the voice-box rather than sound waves.

'Zero-Alpha, Zero-Alpha. This is Lieutenant Dominguez. Request radio check, over.'

'Lieutenant Dominguez. This is Zero-Alpha. Reading you five-on-five, over.'

'Roger that. Thank you. Dominguez, out.'

There was a sudden shout from the direction of the phone booth. The blue light flared to orange, then stuttered out.

'Alright, we're in.'

Two men dressed in the garb on telephone repair men extricated themselves from the booth, rolling the oxy-torch equipment along behind them. They then set about prying up a patch of concrete and cordoning it off; they would "work" there for the rest of the day. As long as no-one saw the insides of their toolboxes the two would be just fine.

'Ok people,' said Thorn, 'get up. Forge, Weitzman, you're on.'

The two corporals hauled themselves off the ground, slinging their weapons over their shoulders as they did so and headed for the phone booth. The rest of Bravo Team followed along behind. Inside the booth hung two black ropes; trailing away into the blackness below. From his webbing Weitzman extracted a bundle of chem-sticks. Grabbing them in both hands he bent them in half, shattering the glass vials inside.

Craaaack.

The little rods began to glow green as the reagents inside them started to mix. The corporal tossed them down the shaft, then clipped onto one of the ropes. There was a series of quiet thuds as the sticks hit the bottom of the shaft.

Weitzman looked over at Forge who was now attached to the other line. 'Lets go.'

With that, the two SAS men stepped off the solid ground around the booth and descended into blackness.

One minute....

Two minutes....

Three minutes....

Michelle was just checking her watch when Forge's voice broke through her earpiece.

'This is Forge. We're on the ground. Area around the insertion point looks clear.'

'Roger that Corporal,' said Thorn. 'Hold position there, we're coming down. Go hot mics.'

Michelle switched her radio to "hot mics" allowing her to speak and transmit without cutting anyone off and without having to hold down her "transmit" button. Thorn and Brookes were already attached to their lines.

Thorn gave Michelle a grin. 'Come on ma'am, hook on above Brookes there.'

Michelle did as she was told.

'Lets roll.'

Thorn and Brookes started to descend into the inky blackness of the shaft. Michelle gave then a ten second head start; then stepped out into space.

* * *

It took them the better part of three minutes to reach the bottom of the shaft. Michelle heard a soft thud of boots as the two men below her touched down. She waited until Brookes was clear, then dropped the last twenty feet onto the ground and unhooked from the line. The green glow from the rods illuminated only a few feet out into the room beyond the shaft. Michelle flicked on the tactical field light attached to the barrel of her gun and played it around the massive enclosed space. She remembered the area from visits to the Ministry with her mother. Back then it had been brightly lit and inviting. Now however, in the dark, the whole area was eclipsed in looming shadows. The massive gold fountain in its centre glinted dully in the beam from her torch, shadows playing across the faces of the statues on it.

'Zero-Alpha. This is Team Bravo.' said Thorn. 'We're in. Send down Team Echo now.'

'Roger that Bravo. Echo are on their way. Hold position there.'

The five black clad commandos stood in silence as they took in the rest of the room, it was gigantic. Michelle wondered what was going through the others' minds. If she was awestruck, what must it be like for them?

Thump. Thump.

Two members of Team Echo arrived at the base of the shaft. Behind them appeared two black Samsonite cases; which they busied themselves with unhooking from the lines.

'Hey,' said one of the commandos. 'Give us a hand with these.'

Michelle slung her own weapon across her shoulder and hurried over, Brookes did the same. Together they maneuvered the cases away from the shaft and dropped them just out from the wall. One of the Echo men opened a case, extracted a small tripod and started setting it up. At the same time his mate removed the other piece of equipment from the case; a FNH M240 General Purpose Machinegun, otherwise known as a "gimpy". It was at that moment that the two remaining members of Echo touched down. Two more cases landed behind them. The two new men pulled their own loads over to where the first gun was set up. One opened his case to reveal boxes and boxes of belt-linked 7.62mm ammunition and set about feeding it into the gun. When both gimpies were set up one of the Echo guys moved over to Thorn.

'Ok Sergeant. We're set up; you're clear to move.'

'Thanks.'

Thorn called the rest of Bravo over to him. 'Ok people you know the story: but I'm going to go over it again so it's real clear for you. Yesterday they had some kind of accident down here. We don't know what it is or what it did. Our job is to search for survivors and, if possible, extract them. Now certain areas of this facility were shielded against just this sort of occurrence so they'll be where we check first. Then we try and figure out what happened. Any questions?'

'Yeah--' The voice came from Weitzman. '--why can't the wizards sort out their own fucking problems? Why give it over to us?'

'Because we're better at this than they are,' replied Forge.

Fine thought Michelle talk about me like I'm not here.

Thorn was back on the radio. 'Zero-Alpha. This is Bravo. Echo Team is on station. We're moving out.'

'Bravo. This is Zero-Alpha. You are clear to move. Echo will hold position at the insertion point.'

'Roger that. Bravo out.' Thorn then turned to Brookes. 'Ok where's our first port of call?'

Brookes turned his attention to something attached to his left forearm. Michelle craned over his shoulder to get a closer look. On his arm was a large screen. Displayed on it was a 3D wire frame layout of the Ministry building. At one end of the structure were a series of red indicators. Brookes saw her looking.

'Here,' he held out his arm. 'These markers show each member of our team; kind of like a high tech "you are here" dot in a shopping centre, and where we want to go is ... uh ... here: the archives.'

Thorn was also looking over Brookes' shoulder. 'So how do we get there Corporal?'

Brookes consulted the screen again. 'It's this way sir.'

The team hurried along, guns held high, jammed against their shoulders; laser sights and torch beams punching out into the inky blackness ahead.

Past the fountain.

Past the now deserted security desk.

Finally they came to a side door; just before the main set of elevators. Brookes tried the handle.

'It's locked.'

Thorn nodded and cocked his head at the door. 'Forge.'

'Already on it Sarge.'

From his webbing, the corporal removed two blocks of C2 plastique and set about laying it around the edges of the door.

C2 is a toned down version of its big brother C4. Just as with C4 it is a plastic explosive; able to be molded to just about any shape required. However; unlike C4, C2 is a soft explosive; meaning that it doesn't go bang quite as nicely as its relative. As such it is often used by archeologists to blast away doorways into ruins without damaging the rest of the structure.

Forge pushed a blasting cap into the explosive and stepped back from the door, detonator in hand.

'Ok people, find something to hide behind.'

Michelle took cover behind one of the statues.

'Take cover.'

Click. BOOM! CRASH!

The door fell into the corridor beyond. The SAS team followed it through, guns up.

'Ok, head right,' Said Brookes. 'There's a set of lifts about fifty feet on; they're service elevators so they should still be operational.'

'Found 'em!'

Michelle, Brookes and Thorn caught up with the Forge and Weitzman just as the lift arrived.

Bing!

The doors rattled open.

'Fuck me,' breathed Weitzman.

Inside the lift car was probably enough flesh to make up one whole person. Blood had spattered the walls, covering them in a gruesome fresco of red. Michelle felt the bile climbing up the back of her throat. She took a quick tally of limbs. No, there was definitely more than one person in there; just in more pieces than usual.

Thorn stepped into the car. 'Come on Bravo. We haven't got all day.'

Reluctantly the rest Bravo Team followed him in. Brookes reached out and hit the button for level six. The doors closed and the lift rattled downwards. As soon as the car doors opened the commandos were out and moving, probably more out of a wish to be away from the scene in the car than for any tactical purpose. They raced through the corridors, Brookes leading the way, MP-5s up. Blood stained the walls and floor, pooling around severed limbs. At the next intersection Brookes came to a sudden halt and held up his hand in the universal sign for "stop". Thorn came up beside him and Brookes motioned for the sergeant to look around the corner. Michelle hurried up beside them, and looked around the corner. The doors to the archives, normally sealed tight, were now swinging wide open. Thorn held up a clenched fist, then cupped his hand around his eye and pointed down towards the doors.

Gun group. Recon. That way.

Weitzman and Forge crept past, weapons held ready, heading towards the open doors. Forge poked his head around, the quickly withdrew it, breathing hard. Still holding his gun in his right hand he held up three fingers and pressed them on the side of his arm, then tapped himself on the head.

Sergeant. Come here.

Thorn hurried up to the corporal, Brookes and Michelle in tow. Thorn looked around the door; then pulled back just as fast and Forge had done before him.

'Tell me ma'am,' he whispered. 'Is that normal for the Ministry of Magic?'

Michelle looked around the door. 'No. No it isn't'

* * *

The archives had become a slaughter house. Bodies were scattered around the room, interspersed with the remains of human limbs and blood. Michelle also noticed something else. The walls were covered in ion scoring where spells had hit them. Whoever had been in there had tried to defend themselves.

But they're dead now. Not promising.

Brookes slowly edged around the door, playing his field light over the room. It came to rest on one of the corpses on the floor.

'Corporal. No.'

But Brookes had frozen. Over the corpse were hunched two more figures, human figures, wearing tattered wizards' robes. With the light now on them one of figures looked up....

Holy shit.

Flesh dripped from its mouth. The eyes had rolled back in its head; stained red where the blood vessels had burst open. Then its companion looked up, staring dumbly at the light. More heads began to appear, all looking towards the torch beam. Suddenly, as if some type of invisible signal had been given, the figures moved, leaping towards the commandos clustered around the doorway.

'CONTACT!' yelled Thorn. 'Open fire!'

BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!

The SAS men's guns erupted in a hail of flying metal and flame, spitting out rounds at a devastating nine hundred shots per minute. Michelle watched as the figures raced towards them, shotgun up and tracking. The first figure went down, red bullet holes exploding across its chest. More of the figures followed, crashing down beneath the feet of their companions. Then suddenly, one broke through the MP-5s' line of tracer fire. It leapt into the air, roaring as it came, like a cat pouncing on its prey.

BOOM! Cha-chick!

The figure's head and upper torso disappeared into a red mist as Michelle's shotgun blast hit it, the lower part slamming into the ground and skidding past the commandos leaving a bright red trail behind it.

'Motherfucker! Will you look at THAT!'

Michelle spun round to see one of the figures that had been hit before lift itself back off the ground. It came roaring towards them as if nothing had happened. A burst of sub-machinegun fire caught it in the head and it went down. But there were more behind it.

'I'm dry!'

'Brookes! Check left!'

BOOM! Cha-chick!

'Thanks ma'am.'

Suddenly Thorn's voice cut across the gunfire. 'Retreat! Back to the elevator! Brookes lead the way!'

They didn't need telling twice. The SAS commandos sprinted away down the passage, the enemy close behind. Michelle madly reloaded her Nova as they ran; ramming the three and a half inch long shells into the magazine as fast as she could. Gunfire boomed around her as her squad mates fired back towards their pursuers. Up ahead Thorn was on the radio; yelling into the mic as he ran.

'Zero-Alpha! Zero-Alpha! This is Team Bravo! We have enemy contacts! Preliminary assessment would class them as undead.'

Major Kurtz's voice came back through Michelle's earpiece, cold and hard. 'Sergeant, pull the other one, it's got bells on. Have you contacted any survivors?'

'Unless you count what's chasing us. NO!'

'Then continue your mission Sergeant Thorn.'

'Fine.' growled Thorn. 'Bravo out.'

They rounded the bend leading to the elevators. Suddenly gunfire erupted in front of Michelle as well. She looked up; the corridor ahead was filled with more of the "zombies"; cutting them off from the elevators.

They were trapped.

Enemies on both sides.

Michelle looked desperately around for another option. There, a door in the wall.

BOOM! Cha-chick.

She blasted it open, revealing a stairwell beyond leading downwards.

'Quick! In here!'

She saw Thorn turn round, and at that moment his magazine went dry.

'Fall back!'

The SAS troops ran for the stairwell, firing into their pursuers as they went. Thorn swiped away his now useless mag and rammed a fresh one into place. Weitzman was the last one in. As he entered the door he pulled something off his webbing and rolled it back out into the corridor.

'Eat that motherfuckers.'

Then he charged off down the stairwell.

KABOOM!

The fragmentation grenade exploded gloriously, sending metal shrapnel flying into the sea of approaching bodies. The front ranks fell, torn to pieces by the whizzing shards. Michelle led the charge down the stairs, crashing out the first door she came to. There, just up the corridor, another set of lift doors. She ran towards them and hit the call button as the rest of the SAS caught up with her.

Come on you piece of shit, hurry up.

The first zombies started to appear at the bottom of the stairs, flooding out into the corridor.

Come on.

Gunfire started up around her.

'Aim for the head! They seem to go down permanently if you aim for the head!' that was Forge.

Come on.

The first zombie leapt into the air, flying towards her.

BOOM! Cha-chick!

Bing!

The lift arrived, its door swinging open. This time Team Bravo had no problem with its bloodied interior. They crowded into the car as the doors began to slide shut. A zombie head appeared in the closing gap.

BOOM! Cha-chick!

It evaporated as it was hit at point blank range by Michelle's shotgun.

The doors clanged shut.

Holy shit.

Thorn turned to Brookes. 'Where's our next stop?'

The corporal consulted the map on his arm. 'Courtroom ten; it's on level nine. Apparently there was a hearing going on when the accident occurred.'

With that he hit the "level nine" button and the lift began to trundle downwards. Forge was leaning against the wall, breathing hard.

'Holy fuck. What the fuck was that?' suddenly his eyes narrowed, and he turned to Michelle. 'You. You're the only one here who has anything useful against these things. What do you know that I don't?'

Michelle returned his gaze coolly; holding the shotgun by her side. 'I know no more than you about what happened down here. I'm just an observer.'

'My arse!' exploded Forge. 'Give me that FUCKING gun! Now!'

'Stand down Corporal.'

Forge wasn't listening. He hoisted himself off the wall and advanced towards her.

'I'm not going to die down here with those things. Now give me the fucking gun.'

'Corporal.'

Forge still wasn't paying attention. He kept coming, raising a fist to strike.

'I'll tell you one last time ma'am. Give me the fucking shot--'

Suddenly Thorn was there, putting himself between Forge and Micelle.

'Corporal Forge! You heard the Ma'am! Now STAND DOWN!'

At this Forge seemed to back off, slightly. 'Sorry Sergeant. Fucking magical freak....'

With that, he retreated to the other side of the lift car where Weitzman was standing. Michelle heard him mutter something else under his breath, but she didn't pick up what it was.

Bing!

'Ninth floor....'

Michelle never heard the rest of what the cool female voice had to say, she was already out of the lift and running hard, following Brookes as he lead them through the darkened corridors. As she ran, Michelle started to notice other things about the floor. For a starter there were no blood stains or bodies anywhere to be seen.

Not liking this, and I don't know why.

They rounded another junction. Up ahead, in the end of the corridor, was a wide open door, leading into inky blackness beyond. What worried Michelle the most though was not the construction of the door, which looked like it had been built to withstand HEAT rounds, but the fact that the lock had been ripped clean out of it.

Whatever opened that, I don't think I want to meet it.

She ran up beside Brookes.

'In through there?' she said, motioning to the door with her gun.

'No, down here.' With that Brookes cut left, heading down a set of stairs that branched off to the left.

Down the stairs, then along another corridor.

Feeling a little claustrophobic here.

Suddenly Brookes came to an abrupt halt outside another featureless door.

'Courtroom ten.'

While they waited for the rest of the SAS team to arrive, Brookes inspected the door.

'It's locked; again.'

'Any idea what the hearing was meant to be for?' Michelle asked.

'No,' said Thorn, who had just arrived. 'Why?'

'Because courtroom ten is usually only used for really serious cases.'

'Joy.'

The big sergeant stood back to consider options. The door was locked. Explosives were out of the question, they were too deep. If an explosive went off in this confined space the concussion would break down the door; but also it would most likely kill the SAS team.

Cha-chick!

'If you'd allow me Sergeant.'

Michelle took a step forward, extracting another shotgun shell from her webbing. Not a normal round, but a large heavy slug, a "door buster" round. She rammed it into the magazine and then pumped it into the chamber. The rest of the SAS team was already standing back, MP-5s trained on the door. Weitzman had another grenade in his hand.

'Not taking chances this time,' he said when Michelle saw it.

She leveled her shotgun at the door lock.

BOOM! Cha-chick.

The lock exploded into splinters as a hole the size of a football appeared in the wood. Michelle spun away into cover, already ramming fresh shells into her gun, just as Weitzman threw his grenade into the room.

One, motherfucker ... two, motherfucker ... three....

Flash! BANG!

Bright white light exploded from the room as the stun round went off. The SAS followed it through, charging into the room, guns up....

Nothing.

The centre of the courtroom was deserted. Michelle brought her light up, panning it around the edges of the space. The walls were lined with seats; and in the seats, people. Some were slumped over. Others were staring fixedly ahead in the blankness of death.

'Oh, fuck,' mumbled Weitzman. 'Those things have been in here too. Fuck!'

'Pull it together,' snapped Michelle. 'It wasn't the zombies, these people haven't been touched.'

'Then what killed them, huh? Answer me that.'

'I don't know. It's almost as if they've been killed by ma--'

She never finished the sentence. At that moment dark figures erupted from behind the rows of seats, wands outstretched, yelling.

And the Ministry of Magic became a battleground.

* * *

'SCATTER!'

Michelle dived sideways, just as the first wave of magical energy slammed in around the commandos.

'Shit! Return fire! Why does everyone in this fucking place seem to want to kill us!'

Michelle hit the deck and rolled behind cover, the floor exploding around her as spells and curses tore it apart.

Weitzman wasn't so lucky.

Bright light slammed into his chest and he went down screaming. The body hit the ground, muscle spasms shaking it like a landed fish. The SAS troops returned fire, the heavy puncture like noise of their subs drowned out by the scream and bang of spells. Another wizard popped up from behind cover. Red holes suddenly exploded across his chest and he hit the floor, splattering blood and guts across his companions. Michelle popped up over the table she had taken cover behind.

BOOM! Cha-chick! BOOM! Cha-chick!

A dark robed wizard was forced to dive for cover as the chairs he was hiding behind disappeared in a cloud of splinters and wood dust. Michelle dived back as another blast whipped across her head; madly ramming more shells into her shotgun as she did so. She looked towards Weitzman's fallen body. The shaking had subsided, leaving it motionless on the floor. Suddenly he groaned and started to roll over, possibly a reflex of coming back to consciousness....

He was still alive.

Michelle assessed her options.

Shit.

'Covering fire! On three!'

With that she slung her shotgun over her shoulder and drew her Heckler and Koch USP "Match" sidearm.

'Three! Two! One! Mark!'

Michelle exploded out from behind her table, just as in perfect synchronization, all three of the remaining SAS men broke cover, subs up, triggers jammed down. Fiery metallic death rained down around the opposing force. Michelle saw one wizard leap up, braving the hail of gunfire.

BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!

Michelle's HK rang out. The man's head exploded like a watermelon as the hollow point rounds entered his brain, blasting flesh out in all directions. Michelle was already at Weitzman. She dropped to her knees beside him, hefted him up under the arms, and dragged him towards the nearest cover. One by one the SAS began to go dry. Michelle dragged Weitzman behind the table just as the first bolts of energy slammed down around his boots. She touched his neck, there was still a pulse, but it was weak.

'Weitzman!' she yelled. 'Can you hear me? Squeeze my hand once if you can!'

Squeeze

'We're going to get you out of here! Hang tight!'

'Ma'am!' Sergeant Thorn yelled across to her. 'We've gotta move or we're going to get pinned down here. He's gonna be hard to get out!'

'Would you like to put that in a memo, Sergeant and address it as "SHIT I ALREADY KNOW"?'

Michelle took a quick head count. She still had three of the SAS commandos in fighting condition, plus herself. How many there were on the other side she didn't know. She reached down and picked up Weitzman's MP-5, then rammed a fresh mag into its receiver. It wasn't like he was in any condition to use it anyway. Forge dropped back behind the barricade as more magical fire whipped across his head.

'Corporal! Grab his other arm! Sergeant, I'm going to need covering fire to get out of here! We'll collect you at the doorway!'

Forge had slung his sub over his shoulder now and was waiting by his friend. Michelle grabbed the other arm.

'Ok! On three. Three!'

They erupted from cover together, dragging Weitzman between them, and raced for the door. Magical energy rained down around them, slamming into the floor, the superheated rock exploding into glowing red shrapnel. Michelle whipped up her sub, holding it at arms length and sprayed fire towards the enemy. Then she was through the doorway, dragging Weitzman, just as more energy slammed into the doorpost, showering her in flying rock. They dropped Weitzman behind the wall. Michelle took up a covering position next to the doorway, flicking the MP-5 into three round burst mode.

'Sergeant! Come on through!'

Thorn and Brookes erupted from cover, charging for the doorway. Another wizard jumped up, wand at the ready.

BLA-A-AM!

Three shots in rapid succession sounded like one. The wizard's gut exploded in red as Michelle's shots hit home. The two SAS men came crashing through the doorway and rolled to a halt at Michelle's feet.

'Nice of you to drop in.'

Brookes gave her the finger from his prone position on the floor then rolled back up onto his feet.

Thorn was already up. 'Right people: back to the elevators.'

* * *

They charged off down the corridor, Michelle dragging Weitzman with one hand, leading with her shotgun in the other. Sub-machinegun fire erupted from behind her signaled the arrival of their new magical friends. They reached the stairs leading upwards and bolted up them, taking the steps two at a time. They reached the top, and came to a screeching halt. The corridor to the right, the way to the elevators, was full of zombies.

Fuck.

Red eyes turned towards them.

'Other way!'

BOOM!

A zombie's chest exploded into red mist. Michelle handed her side of Weitzman off to Brookes, allowing herself full use of the shotgun. The small group of commandos sprinted off in the other direction, towards the open door at the end of the corridor. With a roar of pure animal rage, one of the zombies launched itself at Michelle.

Cha-chick! BOOM! Cha-chick!

The headless corpse slammed into the ground beside her, skidding gruesomely across the stonework. Another one leapt....

It was like opening a floodgate.

More zombies launched themselves at the commandos, showering them in a rain of undead flesh. Michelle blasted them out of the air, like a skeet shooter with a caffeine overdose.

BOOM! Cha-chick! BOOM! Cha-chick! Click!

No more shells left.

Michelle slung the shotgun back over her shoulder and drew her Match, glancing over her shoulder as she did so.

Five metres to go.

She walked backwards, gun up, firing as she went.

BLAM!

Another zombie's head disappeared in a splatter of blood and brains.

Four metres.

Weitzman, Forge and Brookes were through the door.

BLAM! BLAM!

Three metres.

BLAM!

Two metres to go.

BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!

One metre.

Another zombie launched itself at her.

Click!

The gun's slide locked back into its rearward position.

Shit. AGAIN!

The zombie hit Michelle full in the chest, slamming her into the ground. Her head hit the stonework, setting her ears ringing. She looked up, staring into red eyes; the zombie was right on top of her, teeth bared. It lunged down, going for the throat. Michelle twisted out of the way, yellow teeth snapping around her ears. As she did so she caught a glimpse of the rest of the hoard, just down the corridor. Another five seconds and they would be on her. Her assailant lunged downwards again. Michelle caught its shoulders, halting it, red stained fangs snapping just inches in front of her face. She heaved upwards, rolling herself on top of the undead and hit it hard in the face. The zombie screamed and hurled itself upwards at her neck, throwing the commando off balance. Immediately Michelle was again on her back....

BLAM!

The zombie's head exploded, showering Michelle in brains. She looked up to see Brookes standing in the doorway, handgun raised.

'Come on!'

Michelle rolled up on her feet and dove for the doorway, crashing through it into the room beyond. Behind her Thorn and Forge shoved the door closed. Resounding thumps came from outside as undead bodies hit the solid wood, the two SAS men holding it shut with all their might. Thorn looked over towards Michelle, the veins standing out on his neck through effort.

'We're not going to be able to hold this much longer!'

'Colloportus!'

A blast of magic erupted out from the darkness in the room, heading straight for the door. Forge and Thorn dived out of the way and it slammed into the woodwork. They whipped up their guns, laser sights sweeping across the door, but it stayed resolutely shut. No zombies appeared. They immediately whipped around, bringing their guns to bear on where the magic had come from: pinned in the beams from their lights stood a short man in graying wizarding robes and glasses. He cowered away from the lights, shielding his eyes. Slowly he lowered his hand and looked over towards the commandos.

'Y-you're not more of them.'

Then he fainted.

* * *

Michelle looked down at her webbing vest and picked something off it.

'Gross. Zombie gib.'

She sat down on the floor and began reloading her shotgun while Brookes and Thorn attempted to revive the fallen wizard. Question was: what did they do now? She remembered back to some of her later training. In her last year at the military college Michelle had attended a seminar for "up and coming" young officer candidates. It had been part of a shared information treaty with the American military. The seminar itself had covered tactics in the field. It had been run by one Captain Shane M. Schofield, USMC. One of the things he had mentioned in the seminar had been a simple, three step, assessment system that could be used in the field whenever you were at a loss as what to do next. Michelle started to run through it:

Ok, what do the bad guys want?

I assume they want out.

How are they going to do it?

Move up level after level, killing everything in their path.

What are you going to do to stop them?

Move up faster. Then kill them before they kill us.

There was a shout from Thorn. 'He's coming around! Ma'am, can you get over here?'

Michelle heaved herself off the floor, picked up her shotgun, and moved over towards where the little wizard was coming to. She knelt down beside him, picking up his wand from where it had fallen on the floor. A red laser dot appeared on the wizard's head; right between the eyes. Michelle looked up to see Forge standing over them; MP-5 leveled and steady.

'Jesus Forge. Put that thing away.'

'Sorry ma'am,' replied the corporal. 'He shot at me. I'm not taking any chances this time.'

'Well at least turn the fucking sight off,' Michelle snapped back; then she turned to the wizard.

'My name is Second Lieutenant Michelle Dominguez. I'm a Squib with the Royal Marines. We've been sent here to extract you.'

It was corny. She knew it. But it was also pretty standard procedure. The little wizard was sitting up now; he seemed to be almost fully awake.

'Albert Heinemann,' he said. 'Research wizard; I believe that some refer to us as "the Unmentionables".'

'Ok sir.' continued Michelle. 'Do you have any idea what was going on in courtroom ten?'

'I really don't know much on that.' said Albert. 'I've been working on one of the Ministry's projects for the last few weeks; we tend to get relatively out of touch with what is happening in the rest of the Ministry down here. But I do believe there was a trial on for some Death Eaters that were captured, you know, the followers of You-Know-Who.'

'Well that explains why they've been trying to kill us. How many were there?'

Albert was talking fast, nervous. 'Um, around ten I think I was told. But as I said, I was working on this project. It's a sort of arti--'

'Sergeant!' Forge was standing by the door. 'They've stopped trying to beat the woodwork in! Guess they've left!'

Thorn leaned down to Michelle and whispered in her ear. 'I've been on the horn to Zero-Alpha. They say to get this one--' he nodded at Albert. '--and Weitzman up to Echo. This might be a good time to leave.'

'Ok,' replied Michelle. 'Albert, do you think you can follow us?'

The little wizard nodded, bow tie momentarily disappearing under the rearmost of his chins as he did so.

'Good. Brookes, I need you to BG for Mr. Heinemann here. Sergeant, help me with Weitzman. Forge, take point.'

It took less than thirty seconds for the team to get ready. Finally Michelle handed Albert his wand.

'Ok, Mr. Heinemann. Open this door.'

'My pleasure Miss Dominguez. Alohomora.'

The door flew open, revealing the empty darkened corridor beyond. Forge was first through, sweeping the beam of his field light up and down the rough stone walls.

'Area appears clear.'

Michelle and Thorn were next through, dragging Weitzman between them. Finally came Albert; followed by Brookes bringing up the rear. The commandos moved silently and swiftly through the corridors, Albert panting along behind. Before long they were back at the elevators. The sight that greeted them was not terrifying, but disturbing. One pair of elevator doors had been completely torn apart. Twisted metal hung from the walls and was strewn across the floor. In front of the doors lay the mauled remains of two Death Eaters. Ion scoring covered the walls across from the door. Gingerly Michelle put Weitzman down and edged towards the lift shaft, shotgun at the ready. At the bottom of the shaft lay the mangled remains of the lift car. It must have hit the ground at high speed. The whole thing had concertinaed in, so that the roof was a bare six inches above the floor. Coming from between the plates of metal Michelle could see the oozing remains of the car's occupants. Whether they had been human or undead was impossible to tell.

'Forge; get the other lift down here.'

The little group waited in tense silence for the other car to arrive.

Bing!

The doors rumbled open; it was clear.

'Ok people,' said Michelle. 'Everybody in, lets get out of here.'

The doors clanged shut and the car began to glide upwards.

Seventh floor.

Sixth floor.

Fifth floor.

Fourth floor....

Screeeeee! Clunk! Screeeeee! Ka-clunk!

The lift car came to a juddering halt, stuck between floors.

Shit. What now.

Michelle scanned the lift car. There, a hatch in the roof.

BOOM! Cha-chick!

The hatch cover went flying off.

'Sergeant, give me a leg up.'

With the help of Thorn, Michelle heaved herself through the hatch and onto the roof of the lift car. She stood up on the car's roof, sweeping her light around the darkened elevator shaft. It came to rest on the wall in front of her. There, set into the stonework, were a set of doors. The lift had come to rest just below the third level of the building. A steady sound like dripping water made her spin round. Bright red blood was splashing onto the lift roof. She panned her light upwards, following the lift wires.

Oh not cool.

Up at the top of the lift shaft was the reason that the car had stopped. A zombie, or at least half of one, was jutting out of the lift mechanism; its legs and lower torso having been eaten by the machinery. Michelle leaned back over the open hatch.

'It's clear, sort of. Come on up.'

It took less than three minutes to get everyone onto the roof of the lift car. Thorn and Brookes positioned themselves by the doors and slowly heaved them open. Forge was first out into the corridor, Michelle covering him with her shotgun.

'Looks clear out here Sergeant,' said Forge.

'Right then, time to be rolling.' replied Michelle. 'Same deal as last time. Brookes, find me a service stairwell or something; we're going up.'

'Roger wilco.'

Michelle and Thorn lifted up the now unconscious Weitzman--

--and stepped out into the corridor.

Fwheee! BOOM!

The blast of magic sizzled over their heads, slamming into the stone wall. The rock exploded as the moisture inside flashed to steam, blowing out massive chunks of masonry. There was a sickening crack as one slammed into Weitzman's forehead, snapping his head back, shattering his neck and spine.

'CONTACT!'

Michelle dropped the dead Weitzman and dived for the elevator doors, throwing herself back into the elevator shaft just as the second wave of energy slammed down around her. Thorn was already there. At that moment Forge came flying through the opening, magic sizzling around his boots.

'FUCK!'

Michelle had her MP-5 out returning fire.

BANG! Click!

Her clip went dry. She snapped back around behind cover just as blasts of energy hammered the stonework. Swiping away the empty mag she rammed home a fresh into the sub's receiver and pulled back the cocking lever.

Ker-chack!

She looked up to see Brookes drag Weitzman's body into the elevator shaft. He removed the dead commando's helmet and handed it to Albert. The little wizard put the thing on, looking positively ridiculous: bow tie, robe, glasses and oversized Kevlar helmet.

'Brookes!' Michelle yelled. 'Do we have an exit?'

'Yes we do ma'am! Down this corridor to the right; I'll direct from there.'

'Roger that! Ok. Forge take point, then Brookes and Albert. Me and Thorn will take the rear guard! Lets go!'

* * *

The commando team literally exploded out of the lift shaft, guns blazing in a hail of metallic death. Michelle was the last out, sub up and firing, finger jammed down on the trigger. The Death Eaters at the other end of the corridor dove for cover as bullets whizzed across their heads.

It couldn't last for ever.

'I'm dry!' yelled Michelle over the gunfire.

Thorn's clip expired at exactly the same time and they took off down the corridor, Michelle swiping away her mag and letting it clatter to the floor beside her pounding feet. A literal hurricane of magical energy roared down upon the fleeing marine. She slammed a fresh mag home and twisted around; firing one handed behind herself and looked back. There were at least five wizards behind them; the survivors of the original ten. Up ahead Forge suddenly cut right into another passage. Again Michelle was last in. She dashed around the corner just as the wall beside her exploded, showering her in white hot shrapnel. The lieutenant hit the deck, sausage rolling to put out the spot fires on her fatigues.

'Come on kid! We gotta go!' yelled Thorn.

Michelle batted out the last flame and was back up on her feet and running. They had to move: it wouldn't be very long before the enemy caught up with them. They took the next turn left, dashing down a flight of stairs.

'Uh, Brookes; we want to go up.'

'I know that, ma'am. We've got to go down first.'

They hit the bottom of the stairs, crashing through the flimsy door at the bottom and sprinted off down a new corridor. This one was darker, dingier, more enclosed; an access and service tunnel. Michelle ducked low as she ran to avoid hitting her head. Suddenly Forge came to a halt beside an unmarked door.

'This should be it,' said Brookes.

'Well get it open.'

Forge stood back; then hit the door with a powerful side kick, right on the lock.

BAM!

The door didn't move.

'We can't get in.' said Brookes. 'Looks like someone worked pretty hard to lock this thing down!'

'Well,' replied Michelle, 'you've got about ten seconds to think of something!'

'Why?'

'That! Get down!'

At that moment a dark robed figure appeared around the bottom of the stairs. Magic roared over the commandos' heads as simultaneously they dropped to the floor. Michelle and Thorn opened up together. The wizard's chest and body erupted in red explosions as the rounds hit home. They slammed into him, tearing through flesh and bone. The corpse vibrated, still vertical, the rounds' momentum holding it up long after the wizard had died; what infantrymen refer to as the "danse macabre".

Magic slammed into the sides of the service tunnel, showering Michelle in a rain of shattered rock. The enemy was taking cover in the stairway. More fire slammed into the ceiling.

'They're trying to bring the fucking roof down on us!' yelled Forge.

'Brookes! Get that door open!'

'One more second. There! It's open.'

Michelle looked back to see Brookes and Albert disappear into the stairwell.

'Come on! Let's go! Let's go! Let's go!'

Forge disappeared into the blackness. Thorn was already by the door, beckoning Michelle over. She scrambled for the opening just as another brutal wave of enemy fire slammed in around her. She threw herself towards the door, crash-tackling Thorn linebacker style, sending them both flying into the space beyond as more energy roared past the opening. They hit the stonework together, Thorn tumbling across the floor to the base of the steps. Michelle rolled back onto her feet and heaved Thorn up. They raced up the stairs side by side, taking them three at a time. As they reached the second floor landing there was a roar and a shout from above.

'HOLY FUCK! Back down the stairs!'

Michelle looked up to see Forge, Brookes and Albert come charging back down the stairs, closely pursued by a pack of zombies. Michelle already had her Nova out.

BOOM! Cha-chick! BOOM! Cha-chick!

The two lead figures were blow apart as the shotgun ripped through them. Magic suddenly lanced up from below; the Death Eaters had reached the stairwell.

Bad guy sandwich.

'Brookes, Albert! Get this door open! I don't care how!'

'What; again!'

Brookes dived for the door, dragging a protesting Albert along with him. Michelle took up position at the bottom of the ascending stair next to Forge while Thorn took the lower flight. Another zombie materialized out of the blackness, flying through the air. Michelle's shot blasted it away, dropping its remains onto the stairs. The deep puncture like noise of an MP-5 suddenly exploded into life to her left, followed bay a truncated scream as Thorn nailed an unfortunate wizard in the head, his corpse toppling backwards down the stairwell, spreading blood and brains across the stonework. Their landing was turning into a deathtrap.

'Alohomora!'

There was a crash as the door flew open. The commandos were straight through and out into the second level access tunnel on the other side. They legged it away, reloading as they went.

'Ok Brookes. Where to now?'

'Still working on that ma'am.'

* * *

Private Jenkins watched closely as the pedestrian moved closer down the footpath, hands deep in his coat pockets. Jenkins was one of the "Telecom workers" stationed outside the entrance to the Ministry of Magic. The passerby continued strolling leisurely down the concrete; as if four in the morning was a perfectly natural time to be out and about. As he moved past the command minivan the man suddenly withdrew his hand from his pocket and slid something under the vehicle.

What the?

Oh fuck.

Jenkins grabbed the radio lying at the bottom of his hole.

'Zero-Alpha! Zero-Alpha! This is Outpost! Get out! Get out no--'

KABOOM!

The van exploded massively, chunks of twisted metal scattering across the street. The gutted shell was thrown into the air, just as the fuel tanks caught and detonated, hurling the flaming wreckage arse over tit. It crashed down on its roof, shattering the hulk as it spread itself across the asphalt.

Holy crap.

There was a squeal of car tires from the other end of the street. Jenkins whipped around. Two black minivans were roaring up the street towards their position. He dived for the "toolbox", tearing it open to reveal two Enfield SA-80 carbines. He drew them out; tossing one to his fellow SAS "worker". The vans came to a screeching halt. Their rear doors burst open, discouraging black clad commandos, at least ten from each vehicle. They wore high-tech ceramic body armor over black combat fatigues; black helmets and hockey masks covering each man's face, showing just the eyes. Each had a black SIG P250 sidearm strapped to his leg. But what took Jenkins's breath away were their main weapons. They looked like something out of Star Wars, boxy with no visible barrels: Heckler and Koch G-11 assault rifles.

The G-11 is considered far ahead of its time, even today. Developed by the Heckler and Koch company in Germany it was considered to expensive to be put into full scale production. This was not only because of the weapon itself, but because of what it fired. You see, the G-11 showcased a very special feature: caseless ammunition. Each round is encased in a solid block of explosive, negating the need for ejectors on the gun. One upshot of this is that the G-11 can store up to one 150 rounds internally within its body; in the form of three, fifty round, magazines. The other upshot is an incredible fire-rate of twenty-three hundred rounds per minute.

The guns were the last things that Jenkins saw before he and his companion were ripped to shreds by a brutal hailstorm of fire. The new teams didn't stop; they kept moving, leaping over the mangled remains of the dead SAS men, running towards the Ministry entrance.

'Area secure. Team Taipan. You're in first.'

Ten of the new men ran over to the phone booth. Two more ropes dropped down beside those that the SAS teams had used; high speed, high temperature ropes, specially designed for fast insertions from high places. Two of the new commandos clipped onto the ropes and leapt down the shaft, whizzing out of sight as they plummeted away. The next two men were already attached and moving. It took the new teams less than a minute to get the entirety of both teams, twenty men in all, into the shaft.

* * *

Michelle breathed hard as her feet pounded along the stonework of the corridor floor; following Brookes' directions to what they hoped was another stairwell. As they neared it, Michelle got on the radio.

'Team Echo, Team Echo. This is Team Bravo. We are inbound on your position with hostiles in tow.

'Roger that Bravo. We'll be ready an-- HOLY FUCK! CONTACT!'

Michelle's ears were suddenly assailed by gunfire.

'Team Echo! Team Echo!'

'Bravo. This is Sergeant Samael. We're taking heavy fire. I'm the last one left. Bravo do not come here, get the hell out of the....'

There was a burst of whirring gunfire; and the radio cut to static. Michelle's team had come to a halt. Everyone had heard the demise of Echo.

'What now ma'am?' whispered Brookes.

Michelle looked around. 'New objective people: stay alive and get out.'