synthboy

The following morning whilst the agents are discussing their plans over breakfast Agent Peter is called by a triumphant Agent Fischlin. He’s just received a phonecall from the narcotics unit asking why a suspended FBI agent is working with him trying to find Frontline Ultra’s meth factory. Agent Fischlin uses the angle that he has been lied to as a way to cut himself off from the agents despite their attempts to persuade him that they are ‘deep undercover’. He hangs up on Agent Peter and refuses to take any further calls.

The agents decide to call Caleb to see if he can use his influence to alter their status but he is unwilling or unable to intervene and instead tells the agents to pursue their current investigation. With this in mind the agents head to the industrial estate where the meth factory is situated. There isn’t much here. Many of the lots are empty and although there is an auto shop opposite as it is Saturday it is closed. The agents identify an adjacent unit with a skylight that should provide good views of the approach to the meth factory and then head off on a shopping trip for supplies and equipment to get them through a surveillance operation.

Breaking into the unit poses little problems for the agents but the discovery that the skylight is twenty feet of the ground means that Agent Paul has to head back out to purchase a ladder. As he returns he notices a drab grey sedan parked further along the street, typical for the type used by federal agencies. He notes the plates and, whilst he sets up the ladder and Agent Peter preps the spy drone, Agent Pascal runs them through the system. It turns out the car is registered to Agent Fischlin.

Once everything is set up the agents prepare to launch the spy drone. The plan is to land it on the metal roof with an attached microphone and rely on reverberations in the metal to pick up what is going on inside. Unfortunately, Agent Pascal is little heavy handed in his landing and the sound picked up is not the best quality. They can hear two voices and the sound of machinery and not much else. They then hear the door open and someone exit and re-enter a few minutes later.

Figuring they are undetected the agents sit tight for the rest of the day, taking turns up the ladder. Eventually, in the early evening, two cars approach. From out of them come Frontline Ultra’s organisational boss, Larry Liton, their meth cook, Billy Spina and three random goons. They enter the factory and they pick up someone shouting something about cleaning. There follows several hours of noises of frantic activity.

At about a quarter to nine a black stretch limousine slowly drives along the street before turning into the meth factory lot. From out of the back steps Congressman Bolt, an unknown tall, slim, well dressed middle-aged man and a clearly intoxicated, skimpily dressed skeletal woman with the air of a street prostitute. They enter the building and low voices can be heard. Meanwhile, from out of the auto shop comes the figure of Agent Fischlin, gun drawn. He makes his way across the road and round the far side of the meth factory.

After a few minutes the agents hear shouts of “FBI” followed by the ominous sound of numerous firearms being cocked. There are some shouts followed by several soft thuds and then Agent Fischlin screaming “No”. Unwilling to blow their cover, the agents decide to call the police and claim that they’ve seen an FBI agent go into a property and that shots have been fired. Sure enough, within a few minutes two patrol cars appears and four police officers run into the meth factory. They begin to shout out warnings and then everything goes crazy. There is the sound of gunfire, screams and some guttural inhuman screaming that chills the agents to the bone.

After about a minute Congressman Bolt, the unknown man, Larry Liton and Billy Spina sprint out and jump into the limousine which then speeds away. Agent Paul guides the spy drone to follow them for as long as it takes Agent Peter to leave the warehouse, get into his car and pick up the trail of the limousine. He trails them heading north; fast but not so much as to attract unwanted attention. It stops briefly to let the two members of Frontline Ultra out near to The Cross of St George and then continues out on the freeway, heading out of the city.

Meanwhile, back at the math factory, the gunfire and screams continue for about three minutes before everything falls eerily silent. A single Frontline Ultra goon stumbles out of the main door and collapses on the floor, bleeding heavily from an abdominal wound. Realising there is going to be a small window before more police arrive, Agents Paul and Pascal head over to investigate. With guns drawn they approach the body outside and see that he is dead and it appears that his guts have been ripped open. Glancing through the open door of the warehouse they can see little more than a mass of dead bodies, illuminated by a swinging fluorescent light.

Gingerly the two agents make their way into the building. The floor is slippery with blood, the air heavy with cordite. In the middle of the building are two large vats, recognisable as being used in the production of methamphetamine surrounded by bags of chemicals and packets of the finished product. Near to the entrance they find the bodies of police officers and Frontline Ultra goons with gunshot wounds but as they progress further into the building they find bodies with injuries more in keeping with those of the body outside. Finally, they come across the bodies of the prostitute and Agent Fischlin.

Both have been hideously mutated. Their arms have extended and their hands have become razor sharp claws. Their legs have turned inwards slightly and the feet appear to have become cloven. Agent Fischlin has taken a shotgun wound to the face but further evidence of mutation can be seen in the prostitutes head: it has become extended, the jaw protrudes and sharp teeth point out at all angles. Most disturbing of all is between the two bodies’ legs. Agent Fischlin’s trousers thankfully remain reasonably intact, only hinting at what is beneath but the prostitute’s skirt has ridden up to reveal a gigantic toothed maw where her vagina once was. Wedged in its jaws is the head of a Frontline Ultra, torn from its body.

Both agents, confronted with such horrors, flee from the warehouse and lean up against the wall dry retching. Once they have got themselves under control Agent Paul calls Caleb who requests they remove any evidence of Agent Fischlin’s presence and destroy everything else. Agent Paul steals himself and reaches into Agent Fischlin’s pocket to take his car keys whilst Agent Pascal sets up the meth vats to explode. The grab a sample of the methamphetamine, take Agent Fischlin’s car and head off to meet up with Agent Peter. As they leave the industrial estate they pass a convey of police cars, sirens blazing and, from behind them, they hear a large explosion.

Meanwhile, Agent Peter tracks the limousine to a large, rural estate north of Boston. He drives back towards the city centre, meeting up with the rest of the agents along the way. In an isolated field they torch Agent Fischlin’s car and they do a quick internet search for the property, revealing that it belongs to one Lucien Medwin, head of Medwin Animal Feed. They inform Caleb who seems surprisingly uninterested in their discoveries and instead wants them to try and find out if Medwin is linked to any other organisations or individuals. The agents head off to bed, ready to research him further in the morning.