Ben was told to get a sample of the parasitic plant-like organism. It is a must. Returning to the surface, the DNA sample — a greenish liquid — can be studied, in order for a countermeasure to be formulated and go against the parasite that is, supposedly, making the Myfecta go rogue.
Kneeling down on one knee, he took a test tube from his side pocket and began to collect the sample from the main source, arched over just close enough and not get contained.
He used a plastic rod to transfer little by little.
While taking the sample into the a test tube, his comms suddenly stopped working.
What? Ben turned a side eye.
He budge the thing to work, shaking it, but nothing. It was just, off.
Then it was screams from behind that caused a stir. He made rapid movement, his focus at an all time high.....only to find emptiness.
He tried again for the comms. Again — same result. This was beginning to irritate him. How can the comms be off? Its not possible for, wait....
Ben reached for the optical cable behind him and pulled the length to him. The cable kept coming. This doesn't look good, he thought. He was right. The cable was ripped evident to the colour cords — red and black — split and overstretched.
KKKROOOARR!
The same, animalistic, screams erupted again.
Ben took his assault rifle and trained it to where he heard the screams.
~~~~~~
It was 11:44. The comms signal status: Lost.
Every men and women were scrabbling to get the signal back online. One minute it was working normally, the next: signal lost. The main monitor all but showed a blank static screen with captions 'Signal Lost.'
"Sir, we've got something."
"Finally," the Director grunted. "What have you got?"
"Not sure sir, but we're getting high levels of heat signatures residing next to the box."
"What about OUR men!" The Director said. He was more focused on Ben, not whatever the box had to do with it. But he had to listen. The man who found the changes on his monitor looked distressed.
"But sir, please, you have to see this," he transfered it to the main monitor.
"These heat signatures are, if I'm right, immune defence creatures." He zoomed out of the stomach area, "It's only a few but here," he pointed at the large mass of the Myfecta that had other sections. "The immuno-beasts is what I call are headed in the direction of our man. I don't know what triggered their rapid response but I may know a little."
"How so?" The Director asked as if he knew the cause too.
"My guess: it's the RS instrument!" The male technician said outright and spot on.
"Hmmm," the Director smirked. It was inevitable to hide the truth. Multiple reasons proved why it was particularly the RS instrument's doing that might attract opposition for two pointers: radiation exposure upon activation and lethality of the levels exposed. The Myfecta's immune defence system must have sensed danger when the RS Instrument was activated just as the box reached the bottom of the stomach. Momentarily, now, the RS instrument is at a lower level — enough for signals to travel for somewhat of a clear-ish video feed.
An idea seemed to develop in the Director's mind. A whirlpool of ideas. Which was better to choose? Which was better or which was worse? The time was ticking. He had to make a decision.
"How long do we have before all the immuno-beasts reach the box?"
"Two minutes and counting..."
"That gives us plenty of time."
The Director knew what he was going was going break his own rules and decisions set by him. He told male technician sternly, "Increase the RS instruments signal strength!"
"Sorry sir, but we can't—"
"Not the one on the surface — I mean the one in the Myfecta!"
"We can't do that sir!" The male technician opposed. "Increasing the power levels would hurt the Myfecta and cause irreparable damage!"
"I know that," the Director sounding the least sympathic but he spoke in both ways strategic and worrisome. "It'll be just few seconds. We won't prolong it; so that the signal is stronger, while keeping tabs on the meter, we can contact him."
With a look of surprise, the male technician understood where the Director was coming from. "Understood," he said and hurried to the control panel.
~~~~~~
Ratatatatatata!
The sound of shots were fired. The targets: Immuno-Beasts.
Immuno-Beasts were four legged. They were — red all over — comprised of mostly muscles and lacking of skin covers. Slim and having the least of body fat, immuno-Beast had agile bodies which allow for steady and fast maneuvers. For combat, they had sharp claws from their paws like dogs and wolves, claws much sharper and narrow to the cut.
As the Immuno-Beasts attacked Ben was fast with his own ability and reflexes to take the shot and take them out before closing within the area.
The bullets that he used were metal-based. Rubber bullets were out of the question for obvious purpose. When the first immuno-beast pounced on him, he had to switch magazines — making sure for certain it won't get back up. Although the rubber bullets promised less lethality and no deaths, the other doesn't guarantee that immuno-beast won't stop attacking.
Sadly for what it's worth, their wasn't any other way to reassure that no immuno-beasts would be harmed in this approach. Safety regulations had specifically said to avoid harm to the Myfecta. Other specialists (biologists and animal conservationists) would disagree on this very moment, spouting facts and logic to justify their stance for: the slaughtering, the shooting, and say something along the line 'This is unfair treatment towards this creature. But again. This very moment. A fine line between life and death stands at the edge and with current facts presented to you; you must critically decide; formulate pros and cons; and with one final gut-wrenching ideal, make your decision a reality like you were wrestling a lion to the ground in a free-for-all match, no restrictions allowed.
On his vest, the comms swiftly swayed from the constant movement, a voice spoke.