Commander Voss came across the comm line, “Troopers give chase to the fireball.  We are going to circle around and come on an intercept course with you.”  Voss then looked over at Huskins, “how long until intercept?”  Huskins said with a frightful look on his face, “Less than 10 seconds.  We won’t even have time to circle around before it is on us!”  “Shit!” Voss shouted.  Voss opened a comm line to send out a mayday to all units in the area and to headquarters, “Unit 38 flame dancer enga….“ then the comm line went dead.  Sara watching the vitals of her unit, saw both Huskins and Voss’s biometrics flat line right before her eyes.  “No!” She shouted, "We didn't make it in time!”  She kept running, well ahead of the others.  After about five minutes of running and a little over a kilometer of travel she could see something burning off in the distance.  “Norman was shouting over the comm line, “Commander Voss, status report.  Can you read me?  Commander Voss?”  Sara slowed her pace to a jog and then finally a walk.  Sara came across the comm line, “Sergeant, they are gone.  The transport has been completely incinerated.  There is nothing left here.  No sign of the flame dancer either.”  Norman ordered, “ Secure the area, and we will be there shortly!”  

Sara began scanning for the flame dancer in all directions, but found nothing.  It was as if it had magically just disappeared.  Even where there should have been raging flames at the wreckage of the transport due to the fuel and munitions on board, there was little more than a few flickering flames; no bigger than the fire atop a candle.  Sara kept looking around the area, flipping through scan after scan, but nothing.  Sara came across the comm line and said, “It's all clear, Sir.  There is nothing here except what used to be the transport.”  “Roger that Private Snow!” Norman replied, still running toward the impact site.  Sara began to look at the wreckage of the transport.  It looked like someone had melted down some steel then poured the lumpy mixture out on the ground.  There was nothing to salvage.  There were no bodies.  Just ash and molten slag.  The realization began to set in that not only had this thing managed to sneak past them completely undetected, but also, it outran her and a moving transport.  It also managed to get through the E.C.O. shielding, and incinerated the transport in under a minute.

Sara felt a fear that she had never felt before.  "Even if I had made it, there was no stopping this thing.  It was faster and more powerful than anything we have.  It is a total monster.  Something completely unimaginable." Sara thought as she paced around the wreckage trying to slow her breathing.  The other troopers began to make it to the scene.  Their biometrics show up on her visor; heart rates above 160; blood O2 levels down to 92%, core body temperatures elevated.  All of these were typical signs of a body under duress. As if the run to catch up to the flame dancer hadn’t taken enough of a toll on them; they all seemed to have different reactions to the scene.  One thing was clear; no one could believe what they were seeing.  The reality of the situation was that their commander was gone.  Their comrades were gone.  Their invincible E.C.O. shielding was indeed penetrable.  Their enemy could not be tracked.  Worst of all they were stranded in hostile territory.  

Sergeant Norman came across the comm line, “Everyone, we start moving.  We have to get clear of the area before that thing comes back for us.  Ibara, I want you to get a comm line out to HQ to get us a pick up.” “Yessir!” Ibara replied as he moved away from everyone, trying to get a signal out to headquarters.  “Haroldson, I want you to take point.” Norman barked, pointing the direction he wanted Haroldson leading them.  “Yessir!” Haroldson replied, moving to the front of the formation and motioning for everyone to start moving.  “Frost, I want you to check the unit for injuries and ammo counts.” Norman ordered as the unit started to march away from the wreckage.  “Yessir!” Frost replied, as he began moving between the troopers checking vitals and loadouts on his screen.  “Everyone else, I want a defensive formation and eyes in all directions.” Norman barked as he moved to the center of the formation.   It was at this point that Sara came to the realization of what it meant to be a trooper.  Sara looked at Norman and thought, "It is as if a switch has flipped.  He went from trooper to commander just like that."  Norman now had a cold steel resolve to his voice just like Commander Voss.  At this point Sara knew that if she made it through this alive; then she would have to be able to handle situations like this without fear or uncertainty.   Just like Sergeant Norman was doing.  “He just lost his commander and friend; yet he isn’t showing it in the least.  It is as if nothing happened.  He is just going on as acting commander.  And here I am scared half out of my wits.” Sara thought to herself as she fell into formation at the rear.  

The troopers had formed a circle around Norman as they started to march, then Frost came across the comm line, “Unit 38 all present and accounted for.  Injury and ammo count being forwarded to you now, Sir!"  “Excellent. Now Move out!” Norman ordered as he opened the report.  With their backs toward the molten slag that used to be their comrades, unit 38 began to march.  They marched toward the hardened blob of asphalt which used to be a road.  Upon stepping on the asphalt, Sara could feel the surface was still tacky as it ever so slightly held the boot of her battle suit to it.  Shortly there after, a comm line opened.  “We have received your transmission.  We are sending the transport from unit 43 to pick you up.  We are transmitting the coordinates for your pick up now.” Headquarters stated with little sense of urgency.  

Upon looking at the coordinates Sara thought to herself, “This is a really long way for us to travel on foot. Our power suits may not make it that far on their batteries alone.”  Indeed the coordinates for the pick up were quite far away.  It would take the troopers a full 24 hours with no rest to make the rendezvous point.  “Not to mention the pick up is in the opposite direction from our initial orders,” Sara thought, checking the battery charge left on her suit.  “At least the last known trajectory of the flame dancer is the opposite direction.” she thought, breathing a sigh of relief.  It was at this point that Sara knew she was in no shape to face this thing again.

Meanwhile, in an undisclosed location far away from the scene and a few minutes prior to the initial distress call of the appearance of the flame dancer, a young girl's voice speaks out, “It’s here!”  A man then looks over at his computer, “What do you see darlin?”  The little girl’s voice responds, “The disturbance I told you about a few days ago has reappeared.  This time it is on the west coast of the U.S. in the state of California.”  “Just as you predicted my darlin'.  It is headin' for a densely populated area.” The man responded, as he moved over to watch the monitor.  The girl’s voice responded again, “It is only because you programmed me to be able to track the ghosts’ locations, Master.”  “736, you flatter me, but you had to learn to do it on your own,” the man replied, shuffling in his seat toward the next computer screen over.  “I guess I should 'et on the comm line with HQ and let them know that the anomaly is heading for Pasadena California.” the man said, leaning back in his chair, the longhaired man picked up the phone, and began making a phone call to headquarters.  While dialing the phone, he pushed the empty cup noodle cup off his desk with his feet and propped his feet in its place.  He then pulled a cigarette out of his pocket, a crinkled and damaged thing which had not been kept in any type of container, and lit it.  “Yes, HQ? We found the 'host.  It is headin' to Pasadena, California.” The man said in a relaxed voice, blowing smoke into the air.  “No, we don’t have an ETA on when it will 'et there.  It just reappeared on the scanner.”  There was a brief pause as the man listened to the person on the other end of the phone.  He then replied, slightly more annoyed, “No! …. No!  I can’t 'ive you exact coordinates.  It ain’t that simple! This thin' is movin fast.  Plus it keeps appearin' and disappearin' from the scanner.  It seems to have some sort of cloakin' mechanism.”   

The man paused again, listening to the phone, then clearly annoyed replied, “Uh huh…. Yeah…. Right!  Well you just ignore our warnin and see what Mr. Bairon has to say about it!”  The man then began shouting at the phone, the conversation quickly degrading into a shouting match which finally ended with the man standing up and slamming down the phone.  “Did they not adhere to your warning, Master?” the little girl’s voice asked.  Sitting down and in a much calmer tone, the man replied, “They are 'oin' be on alert for a distress call, but they ain’t sendin' out a search team for another possible 'host without no proof.” The girl’s voice then replied, “I am sorry Master, but the program you developed is extremely complicated and hard for me. I just can't give better information, yet. Especially on this one that is moving around really fast and disappearing.” “I am not mad at you darlin'.  You did the best you could.  Those morons at HQ just don’t seem to 'et how hard it is to track these thin's.”  The man said.  He then looked over at his computer and said “So, it has finally come.”  Taking another puff from his cigarette, he then said, “Darlin' it's time for you to sleep.”  “I don’t want to go to sleep!” the little girl’s voice replied.  “Why not?” The man asked, standing up and grinding his cigarette out on the table in a spot he had clearly done this many times, before dropping the butt on the table.  “Because when I sleep; I have bad dreams”, the little girl’s voice replied.  “Sorry darlin', but all little 'irls need their beauty rest,” The man replied, pushing his chair back under the table. The girl’s voice then replied, “Please no master! I do not want to go to sleep!”  “Goodnight my sweet princess.” the man said as he ran his fingers along the rim of his glasses, pushing a button on the computer.  The little girl’s voice then softly faded off into the distance.

The man then moved over to another computer screen.  “Computer, activate drone number 23765 and send it to the Pasadena area.” the man said as he took off his glasses and massaged his temples.  “Activating unit 23765…. Inputting coordinates….   Dispatching, “the computer replied.  “Computer, turn on drone video feed once it has cleared the compound.” the man said, putting his glasses back on.  A few moments later.  The computer responded, “Unit 23765 video feed activated.”  “Computer, be'in recordin to local hard drive.” the man said, shifting in his seat.  “Data recording initiated.” the computer replied.  The man then got up, stretched and started walking to the doorway of his laboratory.  He then pressed a button beside the door.  The door slid open “pshhhhh.”  Standing at the door the man brushed the cigarette ashes and crumbs off his shirt.  He readjusted his long wavy hair back into a proper ponytail.  He then brushed off his pants which hung loose on him.  Obviously about two sizes too large, held up by a belt tightened against his slender frame.   He shook off his lab coat, which being a full length lab coat was only about six to eight inches from the floor because of his short frame of one hundred sixty seven centimeters.  After he had determined himself clean from debris and as wrinkle free as possible, he walked out the door.  “Computer, lock up for me,” he said, without even looking back he walked down the hallway.  

During its infancy, Bairon-Midley began looking into, what was later dubbed, the ghost phenomena.  It was Yvimeer Bairon’s personal interest in the paranormal and the occult that led to him spending hundreds of billions of dollars on ghost research.  Initially, to lead his inquiry of the ghost phenomena, he hired  two scientists.  Dr. John Harvold Kardanovsky and Dr. Felix Simms.  It was only after almost a decade that Mr. Bairon of the Pan-American Sphere merged with the Midley corporation of Geo-Asian Combine, forming Bairon-Midley proper.  The two organizations had been jointly and covertly working together on projects for many years.  It was at this time that the two companies moved their head of operations to the neutral zone, deeming it safer to have the majority of their assets away from the brewing conflict. 

~Excerpt from the Founding of Bairon-Midley part 1 Yvimeer Bairon’s Autobiography

A short time later, from a much farther away location, also a Bairon-Midley facility, an alarm began to sound.  Sounding much like a watch beeping, the sound echoed into the ears of a young boy.  The boy, who was of Asian descent, had dark brown hair and brown eyes. He wore thick rimmed glasses and a lab coat.  He seemed to be very excited by the alarm.   The boy ran into the adjacent room from his bedroom shouting, “Computer home in on ghost signal.”  The computer responded, “Ghost location pinpointed.   North 34, 6, 56 by West 118, 9, 10. Pasadena, California.”  The boy began frantically mashing buttons on the assortment of computers and monitors; turning some on while typing commands on others.  “This is great!” he said, joy overflowing from his face as he grinned ear to ear.  “My newest version of the ghost tracking system is working!” he shouted while throwing his hands up into the air in triumphant glee.  “Now to see if the command center has raised any alarm yet.” he thought to himself.  Staring intently at the many computer screens as he said, “It looks like the only ghost report filed was about nine minutes ago by …. DR. FELIX SIMMS!!  That bastard! How did he do it?!  He beat me to the punch again!!  How is he always finding these things mere minutes before I do!” the boy shouted, as he examined the location of the report and the location of the ghost sighting.  “I just don’t get it!  He is stationed almost as far as I am!  Has he developed some technology that is better than mine?  No!!  That can’t be the case.  Then how?  Is he just that lucky?  Possibly!  I don’t think that is it either.  He has to have some kind of information that I don't, which is helping him locate these things.  Although… Bairon-Midley only went on alert and didn’t send any troopers.  I guess that is because his locating method isn’t as accurate as mine.” the boy thought to himself, leaning back in his chair, and wrapping his left hand around his chin.