It had been months since doctor O'Hark had slept. His work failed to give him any form of relaxation. It wasn't surprising. His job was a very stressful. As the last drop of the chemical he had been working on dropped into the test tube in front of him, the alarm started howling.

"No!" the doctor exclaimed. He flipped to the lab's security camera on the TV system in front of him. Guards fired down the hall, slowly retreating down to the elevators. As the elevators closed, the scientists that were left down in the bottom floor screamed and pounded on the doors. What happened next made O'Hark vomit, spewing the foul liquids all over his research. He turned to his office door and opened it. A pair of bloody hands reached out for him, but he slammed the door shut and jammed it with a chair. He slid down the wall and put his hands in his face. "Why? Why?"

Captain Riley Smith of team HOBO (laugh, laugh, evil laugh) sat watching the news at his home. There had been more reports of the quarantine of the Stark's Antibiotics plant. They attributed it to systems malfunctions and horrible accidents.

"They came close this time," Riley whispered under his breath. He knew that there HAD been a horrible accident at the plant. Last time he came in, frogs with fangs were attempting to wipe out the employees. They didn't get far, but he never knew what to expect from Stark's except the very worst. He jumped slightly when he heard a knock on his door. "Who is it?" he yelled, grabbing the shotgun beside his chair.

"Jonathan Stark. Open up."

"Shut the hell up, Joe. Riley, it's Rachel and Joe. We have something we thought that you might want to take a look at." Riley got up and cautiously headed to the door, shotgun still in hand. He opened the door to see a woman of about 28 and a man who was only a little older flicking him off.

"You guys suck ass."

"We're fully aware of that," Rachel Stone said, putting her hand down. Rachel was a member of team HOBO and their top martial artists and armed combat official. Joe Blimsmith was a crack sniper and a real wiseass, but he obviously had his uses if he was part of the most elite bio clean up crew around. "We actually came to ask if you had seen the news. God, I wonder what those poor bastards did this time."

"Um ...," Joe mumbled, "I kinda' came to tell you something else. I just got here. We've been assigned as a clean up crew for whatever the hell they did."

"What did they do?" Riley asked, turning to face Joe.

"Not sure. All I know is that we should bring whatever we can find. By the sounds of things, the doctor that contacted us said that things were gonna be serious."

"The doctor?"

"O'Hark."

"That old bastard? He locked himself in a room when they just had mice. Oh, well. We still need to get over there. Are the others going to meet us there."

"Yeah," Rachel said, "C'mon, guys, we still need to get over to the helicopter in time. Those guys aren't cheap."

The helicopter touched down of Stark Island, five miles off the coast of Alaska. Jonathan Stark stood with some of the team members.

"This is an outrage!" the skinny, young man roared at Juan Hernandez, a veteran of the squad. "Any problems that we have I can assure can be taken care of by my team! I don't need your governmental shit-squad running around my island!"

"Mr. Stark, I believe that you'll have to take that up with Colonel Smith," Juan said, gesturing to Riley.

"Is there a problem, Mr. Stark?" Riley asked, his voice laced with sarcastic concern. 'This arrogant son of a bitch isn't gonna stop my team from doing their job.'

"Damn right, there's a problem," Jonathan said, only a little bit more calmly. The only people in the entire world that he was afraid of was the president and Riley Smith. Even still, it didn't earn either of them much respect. "Your team is going into a highly developed research area! They could ruin everything I've worked for! Also, ..."

"Deal with it," spat Riley as he pushed past the finely-dressed man. Each member of his team stood by with their weapons of choice. Rachel stood by with an axe in her hands and a 45' in her belt. Joe was checking his 50' cal sniper rifle and his combat knife was bound to his arm. Amelia Rogers, another team member, carried a medical kit and a 44' magnum in her hands, she was the team's doctor. She was also very young, only about 21. Juan carried an AK47 and a standard-issue combat knife. There were about three men behind him. They were Black Ops, sent by the government to help them out if worse came to worse. Each one of them carried fragmentation grenades, smoke bombs, a gas mask, a shortsword, two uzis, and, of course, the standard, military-issue assault rifle. They were highly trained with each weapon in their veritable arsenals and could easily handle almost any situation. Riley himself carried a combat shotgun, a 45', and two long knives. He had a rep. for being a real badass with authority. The only men he respected were generals and some presidents. Riley had always been quite the Republican and, during all his years of service, refused to listen to anything Clinton ever had to say. He didn't like those who told him what to do, thus, he naturally hated Jonathan Stark.

"You'll get yours, Riley. Oh, you'll get yours."