NationStates Jolt Archive

Ten Years Ago
Isis Vector Labs
Project Mind Blade
"Okay, we're ready to start." Sub-Director Kerrik turned to Director Iams. He glanced down one last time at the sheets of paper in his hand, detailing every projected angle of the Mind Blade agent.

Nearby, observers from the Armed Forces waited, looking through the one way glass window into the observation chamber. General Wolthy asked Iams, "You're sure these are volunteers?"

Iams, his thinning gray hair combed over, rested back on the desk, his cane propped next to him. "Of course. Mostly bums, looking for their big high. They get a free high, we get data. Everyone wins."

In the corner, SD Kerrik winced. Unless you're wrong about Mind Blade... He shook his head, clearing it. The chimp tests were fine. There's no reason any human should exhibit the symptoms we saw in the rhesus... He turned to look at the seven people in the room. Four men, three women, all of them ragged, glancing about... perhaps rethinking their agreement. He snapped his gaze away, returned to Dr. Adrow, who was describing the unpredictable reactions of Mind Blade among the rhesus.

"...so, the amount required is only 24ppm, breathed in, ingested, or contact with skin. Mind Blade then triggers deep connections to the subconcious, linking neurons that lay dormant. As this happens, part of the forebrain is burned by the reaction and the biochemistry alters to induce a dreamlike state. Within ten seconds, they have a rush of blood as vessels dialate, then the chemical changes take effect. Within thirty seconds, they have begun to suffer vivid hallucinations, loss of time sense, motor function failure. By forty seconds, they are completely in a dream state, reacting to their subconscious and removed of any controls. Test subjects were seen to stumble about in a zombie like state, interacting with non-real objects and people. Approximately seventy-four percent demonstrate psychotic episodes during this time, lashing out at others and themselves. After a five minutes and a thirty seconds, they are comatose. After seven minutes, they are dead. Continual exposure is not needed. Once begun, this process is irreversible."

"How likely is this?" Wolthy asked.

"Hardly. Though we have seen this before, it was conceived to be a fluke, and further tests have shown Mind Blade as nothing more than a knockout agent with psychotropic effects." Adrow answered.

Test Cycle Commencing

Kerrik asked suddenly, "Were they", he pointed to the subjects, "informed of these effect?"

Iams rolled his eyes, "Of course not." The others nodded, and Kerrik quietted. Do not say any more, Anderas, our you will end up dead.

There was a hiss, and gas entered the test chamber.

The subjects looked around for a moment, then began to visibly slump. Kerrik watched one man, about thirty, with a scraggy beard and wide eyes. The man's eyelids drooped, his eyes glazed. One pupil dialated, then the other. The man's face turned red, and he leaned against the wall. His jaw fell slack, and he raised a hand limply to brush his hair. It froze in midmotion, then fell back to his side. The man's eyes closed, and he toppled forward, smashing through the lab table like an iron bar. He lay on the floor for a moment, then began to convulse violently. These calmed, and he dragged to his feet, his eyes glued open, his pupils huge. He opened and closed his mouth at random, his tongue moving through his lips. His teeth came down, and the tongue fell to the floor, blood shot from the mouth. The man walked smack into the wall, rebounded, and ran into it again. He wheeled about, swung a punch at no one. As he spun, he saw another subject, also staggering about, making coffee in midair. The first man simply walked up behind the second and snapped the other's neck. Then the man staggered towards the glass, snot running from his nose, blood shooting from his mouth. He impacted the glass, spiderwebbing it. He toppled backwards, lay still. Abruptly, he began to shake again. He twisted and contorted, bones snapping, breaking. He began to bleed from his nose, his ears, his eyes. Then, as abruptly as it had started, he was motionless. He simply lay there, bleeding and frozen in that horrendous pose. A life support monitor buzzed, breaking the silence.

Kerrik turned, zombielike, from the window to the buzzing. All dead. In a trance, he turned back to the room. The first man lay in rigor mortis, another with a broken neck, another impaled herself on the table, another had died masturbating in the corner, another slumped across a table, lacerated with bite marks, the sixth was snapped almost in half, and the last lay against the glass, his expression frozen in that nightmarish contortion, glaring accusingly at Kerrik. Kerrik watched the man slide down the glass, leaving a bloody trail, and he stumbled back, reeling.

"What have we done?" someone asked. Was it me?

General Wolthy was pale and sick looking. "Destroy it." he whispered. "Destroy all of it!" his voice returned in a yell. He turned, wretched into a trashcan.

Iams stared in disbelief. "This project is closed." he stated, abstractly, coldly.

Already, shredders were kicking up, and cleansing fires activated in the test chamber. Kerrik glanced into the flame, seeing the ghoulish face wreathed in fire. He swallowed the terror that shook him to the core. This should never have happened. He looked away, walked from the room, trying to put it behind him, to forget what he had seen. It shall not happen again.

Ten Years Ago
Isis Vector Labs
Mind Blade Test Day Plus Two

The labs had been seared with fire, the documents shredded, the creators had been shifted to other projects, buried from public or government oversight. The ashes floated through the lab, the missing window was testament to the thoroughness of the ISA teams. Even now, pieces of the walls were being removed with acetylene torches, chunk by chunk, to be scoured in another location. Nothing remained of Mind Blade, not even a whisp of ash (which had been vaccuumed clear) or a rumor in an ISA break room.

But a pair of feet disturbed the evolving clean room, a pair of wingtips that clicked on the pure onyx floors. The man looked around, gathering in what had happened two days ago. He touched the breast of his Armani suit, rubbed his thumb across a vial beneath, and a disk in his pocket. This is what was predicted... a loss of control, a destruction springing from within...

The man faced the pure test chamber, placing the bodies back in with his mind. But we can control this... like clean burning a forest. This is the perfect way. The man turned, brushing his gray hair, his cain tapping on the floor as he walked away. This could remove the excess from the lower classes, thus sparing the rest the pain.

Director Iams closed the door.

Three days later...
Jose Guitarez, one of the biggest druglords in Columbia, held the vial up to the light, watching the light trickle through. What is this... this Blade? He turned to the papers that had been delivered with the vial. He smiled. This could be profitable...

Time: 11:31pm TCT (Transnapastain Central Time)
Date: March 11th
Officer Reporting: Sergeant Nick Grey
Crime Scene: F.L.A.R.E. Nightclub

Summary: Black male, age 25, unemployed, entered the bar armed with a PPK pistol, and began firing into the crowd, he then barricaded himself in the back room and begin to shoot towards passersby on the street. OIS CRU (Crisis Response Unit) units called in to handle the situation, after local authorities proved inept. Officers attempting to storm the building, and could not breach the room without fear of safety. A sniper was set up across the street. He fired one round into the subject’s midsection. The subject did not become incapacitated and returned fire, striking the front windshield of my patrol car. A second shot removed the subject’s head. No motive is obvious. Interviews with the bartender, dancers, and patrons shed no light. Subject was not known by anyone working or patronizing the bar. Unsolved but closed, autopsy revealed unknown contaminates in the bloodstream

End Report
March 12th 12:21:03



Time: 9:54am TCT (Transnapastain Central Time)
Date: March 13th
Officer Reporting: Captain Jews
Crime Scene: Mylar countryside

Summary: Subjects: Whitney James, and armed militia stormed a farm home in Mylar farm area, taking the family hostage. OIS CRU called in to defuse situation, Captain Jews commanding. After several attempt to establish communications with the terrorists, three bodies were pitched from an upstairs window, a man, and woman, and child, possible ages 40, 30 and 16 respectively. All naked, lacerated, bitten, signs of rape on ALL cadavers. The armed terrorists begin to fire from upstairs windows on CRU personal. Targets were barricaded in windows with small firing slits, deemed improbable to hit. OIS personal fell back and Captain Jews order and Air Strike. 2 A-10 Cinders flying out of Celosia dropped 2 Micro Fuel Air Explosives on the target. All terrorists presumed dead.

End report
March 13th 1:51:03pm





Time: 9:21pm TCT (Transnapastain Central Time)
Date: March 14th
Officer Reporting: Captain Janise
Crime Scene: Pearson High School, Kilburn City

Summary: David Russo, 17, Senior at Pearson High School, entered the facility was an AKs-74u assault rifle and proceeded towards the cafeteria. An OIS agent challenged him, and was shot dead, through the head, without hesitation. He entered the Cafeteria right as 7th period launch was convening, kicked over a table, blocked the doors and began to fire into the crowd. 30 confirmed dead, 70 confirmed injured, as well as 5 OIS Security officers, target then died from exposure to an unknown substance.

End Report
4:45:09am March 15th


My God! these are horrible! thought General Davis, OIS Commander.

“Get me colonels Fire and Gallagher right away” he said into his intercom

Within minutes both men came storming into his office

“Sir, yes sir!” they said in unison

“Sit down boys, we got a rash of shit on our hands, and its not smelling to good”

he handed them the reports

“Mien gott en Himmel” whisper Fires

Gallagher smiled sadistically

“I want whatever is causing them to do this taken care of. Its got to be some kind of drug, Fires, get on the line with Kaukolastan, Dodekistan, Nailiak, and the rest of the Directorate see if they have had any trouble of this sort.”

“Sir!” replied the OIS chief of Regional Intelligence

“Gallagher….wipe out that grin, and get your teams on it, find it, kill it dead, now!”

“Oh yes sir!” said Gallagher, the head of OIS Narcotics research division

May we solve this fast, before any more crimes are committed thought Davis as he made the sign of the cross

“Hey, Billy, you gotta hit this shit man!” said John Yuan, a middle school badass and video game player

“Naw man, im cool” replied Billy, content with his LSD Tabs

“K man, but this stuff is the Shit, they call it, Blade, or sumtin, bad ass high man! Its like Whoa, im gone motha!“ shouted John

He inserted the aerosol canister into his mouth, which looked a lot like an asthmatics rescue inhaler, pressed the button and inhaled deeply. He fell back onto his bed, lying really still.

“Hey man….you wanna play some Day of Defeat?” asked John.

“Sure man” replied Billy, and spun around to the computer

john reached under his pillow and removed his Nazi Hitler Youth Knife and plunged it into Billy skull, Billy stiffened and hit the ground,. Trying to grab at the knife out of his head, John reached down and broke both of Billy’s weak arms, Billy Still alive, stammered….”Dude…..what the hell?”

“I kit you, I r teh leet” John Stammered, drooling, his eyes glazed over, he went to his dresser and removed his Luger pistol, put it in his mouth, and fired. His head disappeared in a fine red mist.

John’s parents found the boy’s dead when they returned home and contacted the OIS right away



A man drove his car right into the doors of Kilburn General Hospital, unemployed; he had recently lost his wife and children in a bitter divorce. He survived the crash, and stammered out of the car, wandering down the street. Eyes glazed, and darting nervously, muttering to himself. He died just two blobks later, after being seen to be convolsing badly, bleeding form the eyes, mouth, ears and nose, he walked directly into a lgiht pole, feel backward, hit his head on curb

"Are you alright!" asked a passerby, a young blonde

"MAN, WHAT A RUSH" he said in a slurred vocie, before he died.




Cindy Engle’s, a working girl in the Poor Sector of Juraut City, was dressing after having pleased her client. She popped the Aerosol into her mouth and sprayed. She sat down in the toilet to pee, and fell back, dazed out for a bit. Then got up, took her shiv out of her purse, and jammed it into the throat of her ex-client, his eyes burst open and he attempted to scream. She began to gouge his face with her long fingernails, she slammed the rooms gridiron Bible down hard, knocking the man unconscious, she removed the knife and severed the mans pleasing aspect, insuring he could never make love again…as if death hadn’t been enough to stop him form that.
“You sucked, you bastard” she said, in a slurred voice as she tossed the knife down and exited the cheap motel. She passed out nearby in a gas station bathroom. She woke up later wondering where she was, how she got there, and where all the damn blood had come from on her. She only wondered as long as it took her to stand up, begin to convolse, and fall head first into the open toliet, water and blood spashed all over as she spasmed in the bowl, the spams subsized and she lay motionless. She was found 4 hours later by a 12 year old girl who got more than she bargoned for when she enetred the room....."Should have never asked to stop and pee" said the young gril in between vomiting spells

Director Kerrik thrashed about in his bed, sweating profusely. He murmurred words in his dementia, slight slurring words that hinted at the horrors behind his rapidly moving eyes...

He was running, running through corridors that doubled on themselves and twisted under red and white lighting. There was fire beneath the catwalks, and blood seeped from doorways, but that didn't worry him as much as what was behind him.

This is Isis! I know this base! There is nothing like this!

The hallways spun onto themselves, and the walls shimmered with faces of the dead... all pointing, accusing, claiming him as their own. His shoes rang from the deck, but they were brushing on things. What those things were, he didn't know, but he was not going to look. He rounded a corner, and a blast door crashed down, cutting a man in half before him. He whirled into a side corridor, dashed through the steam.

It's coming!

He ran through a closing hatch, slammed it behind him, and turned-

And faced the test chamber. He stood outside it as the people inside pounded on the glass, their faces streaming blood, their cracked lips muttering his name. The tongue was at his feet, twitching. He screamed, his pistol flashing upwards...

"It will do you no good, Anderas." a gravelly voice declared.

He whirled, spotting a man stepping from the shadows, a lit cigarette in his mouth. The man's ghoulish features were cast in shadow and the flickering glow of the dead cameras, backlit by his red cigarette. He turned to run again, but the glass was breaking...

The pistol fired, and the glass shattered. Blood sprayed, but they came towards him, burning and howling. He backed into the wall, felt hands on his shoulders. The man was laughing. There was an alarm-

Director Anderas Kerrik bolted upright in his bed as his alarm beeped. "What?" he gasped, grabbing his pistol from reflex. His breathing calmed. "What the hell? Why..."

Colonel Gallagher Sat at his desk, reading the report his team sent him



Narcotic, unknown origin, seems to have severe psychotic episodes, drooling, bleeding form facial extremities, increased sexual and aggression tendencies. Located few street dealers, most cases are concentrated around the harbor of Juraut City, possible lab on boat there, will investigate further



“Send this information over to Fires and Davis,” said the Colonel into he intercom at his desk.


Colonel Fires to ISA, Kaukolastan

Requesting review and return of top-secret material presented.

Have you guys had anything like this before? Resound faster than ASAP!

Colonel Fires
OIS, Director of Region Intelligence
Transnapastain

The report entered the ISA through priority channels, and quickly found it's way to Sub-Director of Operations, David Phaellan. Phaellan glanced down at the report, checked his records. Nothing. He ran a check of Isis records. Nothing. He shrugged, placed a call to Colonel Buris at the Army.

"Buris here."

"Hey, this is Phaellan."

"Oh, hey, Dave. Anything I can do for you?"

"Actually, yes. I'm sending the data now."

Narcotic, unknown origin, seems to have severe psychotic episodes, drooling, bleeding form facial extremities, increased sexual and aggression tendencies. Located few street dealers, most cases are concentrated around the harbor of Juraut City, possible lab on boat there, will investigate further


"Get it?"

"Yeah, I'm checking..." there was a pause and typing. "Nada."

"Hey, thanks. Looks like Trans just tripped on a virus or narc."

"Yeah, if they get any samples, we'll let the CDC have a crack."

"Okay, thanks. You still up for pool on Friday?"

"Hell yes. See ya."

"Bye."

Phaellan placed the phone down and wrote his reply.

The helicopter flew fast and low over the cityscape

"Alright listen up!" called a Lieutenant

The 11 other men looked at him, all members of the OIS’s elite Scorpion teams, crack troopers who carried out the OIS’s “black ops”

“We have got to get a sample of this new narcotic, its bad ass, says the brass. It’s an aerosol, so keep those gasmasks on. Here’s the plan:

1st squad, hit the roof, takes out and guards, and repel in through the skylight. You’ll be coming in over the warehouse floor, so keep it sharp. 2nd squad, we’re going to rope down to the deck, and blow a hole right in the front door. We want to “shock and awe” these friggin druggies. Take prisoners if you can, and, above all eyes, get us a sample!

The chopper slammed down hard of the roof

“Green light, 1st squad, go go go!” called the Operation Commander.

1st squad jumped out onto the roof and the chopper ascended again into the night

“Lets move,” said the muffled voice of the team leader. Then men took up position by the skylights

“Roofs clear” called a solider through his headset

“Fire” said the leader

Then men poured fire into the skylights, and begin to spray the interior with lead, two men on M-240 SAW’s opened up, blood sprayed everywhere, and a few men retreated behind creates and into annex rooms

“You two” said the leader “Cover us from here, the rest, ropes, lets go in!”

“Team 2, were ready! Make a hole!”

::meanwhile::

The last of 2nd Squad touched down outside the warehouse.

“Message received 1, were opening the door” said Team 2’s leader.

“You and you, get up there and plant the charges!”

Two men rushed forward and slapped C4 to the doors, the blew in and the doors feel open, just as the 1st elements of team 1 were torching down
“1st squad, clear left of the door, working up to the back, 2nd squad, clear from the back to the front, goes go!”

The teams preformed their duties, the G36 rifles firing

“Sir, they’re taking a lot more than they should be…I hit this guy 5 time sin the head, and I swear has alive” he moved closer and knelt down next to the man”…ouch fucker bit me!” burst of gunfire “Kay, he’s down…boss I feel funny”

“Get back to the chopper, 2, and get that bite looked at,” said Team 1 leader

The two teams, met in the middle, one man looked over to the smoking hole that was the door, only to see his comrade stumble and fall, he ran to help him. The man lay there unmoving and unconscious. “Hey, wake up, man!”

“Stay with him!” called Team 1 leader, he pointed to two men, go and guard the door, watch for back up or local interference/”

The two men trotted over to the hole or a door, crouching inside and watching for movement.

“Lets go”

Then men ran into the warehouse office. A man stood at the end of the hallway, dazed and drooling, bleeding from his face, and walking towards them.

“Drop him” they opened up on him, and the men fell over, dead

The changed up into the warehouse office, and lead kicked open the door

“Don’t shoot” called a voice form across the room, form behind a desk. Rows of chemical equipment, and boxes of inhalers littered the room.

“Get a sample, I’ll talk to him” said lead as he ran over to the voice

The man who ran over to get the samples looked out over the warehouse from the bay window…. and froze….

“Boss get over here, NOW!!!!”

The rest of the team, and the prisoner ran to the window and watched din horror as the dazed man who had been bitten slowly sat up, out of a mysterious puddle of blood that had formed around him, his mask removed.

“What are you doing? Asked the men tending to the wounded man

“*Incoherent Babble*” says the man with the bite….

He began to walk towards the men, who was slowing backing deeper into the warehouse

“Shoot him, KILL HIM!” called Lead 1 over the radio

The man below raised his rifle, and froze

“I…I cant boss…that’s John, he’s my friend, and I cant!”

BOOM

The head of “john” exploded into a red mist, and the sniper lowered his M24

“…What was that!”? Boss asked the Prisoner, throwing him into the window, which shattered outward….”tell me or I drop you”

“Man, it’s the Blade, you can get it form others people, like a damned disease, it makes people flip out man, when they take too much, problem is, the trip is so good and the addiction so high, you cant GET enough man” stammered the dealer

“Cuff him,” said Boss as he hauled the dealer back in the window

“Get the samples, and call for evac…this was one hellova FUBAR!


: A day later:

“These sample came at a high price,” said General Davis to the pilot of the helicopter “hand them DIRECTLY to Director Kerrik, do not fail me”

“Sir, no sir” said the pilot, and closed the cockpit

Kerrik heard his intercom buzz, and he lowered his reports on the Rebeland "War". "Yes?" he asked.

His aide replied, "Sir, I've got a pilot here from Transnapastain, says he wants to see you directly. He's got papers a mile high from everything in his command structure."

Kerrik sighed. "Send him in." he rubbed his eyes. "I'm sick of this bull shit conflict."

He leaned back as the door opened, and the pilot entered.

The pilot nodded to the receptionist “Thank you”

He stepped into the office and saluted the Director

“Sir I have some very top secret information for you, and these, he presented the metal suitcase in front of him.

“Sir, the papers will explain everything, I didn’t read any of it, I don’t know a thing, just that this is of security parameters Alpha Prime, the highest it goes, so its got to be big…. frankly, I don’t think I want to know…. if you’ll excuse me sir, ill let you get to work.

He saluted, spun on his heels, and left the room

Kerrik saluted back, in an offhand, semi-formal manner that people got used to from him. He popped the case open and began to page through the documents. One picture caught his eye, the image of the hooker, facedown in the toilet. No! There was an aerosol cylinder of some kind sitting in the case, and he pocketted it.

"Sue?"

"Yes?" the aide asked.

"I get me Phaellan. Now." His jaw was clenched, and sweat was beading under his brow.

"Yes, sir!" she stated, thrown off by his tone.

Within moments, Phaellan was in the room. Kerrik held threw the folder at him, and the Sub-Director paged through it, his face growing white and twisting in disgust. He looked up, "What is this stuff, sir? I heard about it before, but it didn't look like... this..."

Kerrik bit his lip, faced away, towards the flag. "That's what I want to know, Phaellan. I need you to do me a favor. Go to Isis, to the Vector labs, and run a full scan on this. Keep it quiet. And don't spill it."

"Sir, what is it?" the man was worried.

"I don't know, but if it is..." he trailed off.

Phaellan dismissed himself, knowing he wouldn't get any more information. "I'll head out now, sir."

Bump

Bump dont feel like posting tonight

(OOC: Bravo, interesting thread.)

((ooc, thank you! We cooked this up after i informed my friend that i was on a medication known as tetracycline...."sound slike a chemical weapons," he said....:) ))

Phaellan stepped from the Osprey, walking calmly out from the billowing dust cloud in his suit and tie, carrying the suitcase. He was met by a contingent of Marines who dashed from the vault doors on the mountainside and folded around him. Phaellan glanced skyward as the V-22 lifted back up, out the open top of the dormant volcano that served as a landing pad. He grimaced slightly and turned back to the Marines.

A Captain threw him a salute. "Welcome back to Isis, sir!"

Phaellan returned it half-heartedly. "Thanks, Captain. You've prepared the equipment?"

"Yes, sir!"

They entered the vault doors, and those steel walls slammed shut behind them with the shove and clang of hydraulics. They paced down the onyx hallways, passing labs and offices, armories and barrack, control rooms and generators, until they reached an elevator. Phaellan stepped on, and the Marines broke away, never questioning the ISA man on why he was here, needing to use Level B9.

The elevator descended, and Phaellan leaned against the wall. He had run the ISA contingent in this facility, and in those five years, he had never needed to go to B9, except for Chimera. He had been in charge of the ISA's genetically tailorred Chimera VEEpox, and that was why Kerrik had sent him.

The Vector Bio/Chem Labs ran on floors B6-B9, with each level deeper getting more and more secure. B9 housed the gene sequencers, the human test chambers, the Level 5 labs. It was a horrific showcase of the darkest and dreariest secrets the Military and ISA could come up with... and Kerrik had sent him back to it.

This could only mean one thing, Phaellan realized. At some point, we worked with this Blade. The thought made him shudder a little. He was the ISA Director's most trusted man, the man who headed up the Black Projects, the man who had led Isis for five years. And he had never heard of this before. What was this stuff?

He knew little of his package. Two vials of Blade. One to be sequenced here, one for backup. He knew more about his destination. The Archive.

The Archive was exactly that, the most complex and complete library in Kaukolastan, one that held every single piece of Black Information that had ever been crafted. There were three people with access: the Director of the ISA, the head of the Joint Chiefs, and now him, the SD of Assymetrical Projects. People have died for merely speaking the name of this computer... and I'm about to look into its depths.

But first, he had to stop and run the first vial through the Sequencer. Only with that data could the Archive do him any good.

The elevator pinged, and the doors opened into a large, sealed room. Autoturrets hung on the ceiling, and there was a large scanning array sat before him. He stepped up to the scanner, and entered Isis Vector.

The two technicians inserted the vial into the sequencer. Phaellan closed the briefcase and locked it. Only with his palm coded sequence could open the case now. He turned to watch the sequence arrays to see the results. The technician stated, "Well, Sub-Director, this process should take about five hours to get a complete result."

Phaellan nodded, "I'll just wait here, then."

"Yes, sir."

In the corner, Section Chief Duran asked, "What exactly do you got here, Dave? If you're allowed..." he shrugged.

"In all honesty, I don't know. Something messing up Transnapastain."

Duran rolled his head, popping his neck. "You up for poker?"

Phaellan nodded. "Yeah, sure, pass me the cards. We playing three card s-" his phone beeped. "Damn. I still get service here?" He picked up his satellite phone. "Phaellan here."

His face went white. "My God. I'm on my way." he stated. He turned to Duran, his old poker buddy. "Can you hold the fort? It's Tim... he's gotten in a wreck."

"Your kid?"

"Yeah. Hit by a car as he left the school..." Phaellan was shaking.

Duran nodded. "I'll cover for you."

"Thanks." Phaellan ran for the exit, already calling for the Osprey.

Twenty Minutes Later...
The Osprey flew, low and fast, over Efrena's upperclass neighborhoods and financial districts. Phaellan was on the phone. "...that's right, Chief. I'm putting this bird down in Rockefeller and 45th intersection. Why? Cause my kid got creamed, that's why! So clear the intersection, or my gunner will clean it with the damn M134!" He slapped the cell phone closed. He called up to the pilot, "Just put it down in the intersection."

The Osprey roared across the last several buildings, it's rotors scattering people and merchant stands below. It came to a hover over the intersection, and Phaellan saw the police cars dispersing the crowds, and the intersection was clear. Nearby, squad cars had blockaded the intersection, and an SUV was jammed into a light pole, a streak of red behind it's tires. Phaellan felt sick, and as the Osprey settled, he vaulted from the side, running for the nearest officer. "Where is he?"

"Who, sir? Who are you?" The officer asked, staring at the settling Osprey.

"Sub-Director Phaellan, ISA! My kid got hit, damnit!"

The officer swallowed hard, "He's in the hospital now, sir."

"Where's the fucker that hit him?"

"Vanished into the crowds, sir. Ran after hitting the pole, they say."

"Damnit! Any witnesses?"

"One of the teachers, she's over there-" Phaellan was running.

"What happened?"

The woman was shaking visibly. "I don't know the SUV just plowed him down! There was a red light, and it was stopped, and then it just went. I don't know! There was no reason-"

Phaellan was almost pure white, and his hands were shaking. "Where-"

"She ran! She ran after the- I'm sorry!"

Phaellan heard his cell phone ring, and he picked it up, "Phaellan! What is it?" he almost cried.

"Sir, this is Section Head Treng. There's been a lab accident."

"What kind of-"

"Some agent got loose in the air. Everything on B9 is dead. Sir, everyone's dead down there. We've got it locked down now, but we almost had a major accident. Some fucker got into the network, tried to overload the filters! They were looking for a briefcase when we got them. They killed themse-"

Phaellan glanced down at his case. No, this isn't possible... One of the officers was approaching him. "Mr. Phaellan, I can take you to the hospital to meet your son."

Phaellan was about to nod when he felt his instincts twinged. "I'll go myself."

"Sir, can you drive."

"I'll be fine."

"Sir, I insist. You're behaving odd, sir. It's expected, but I'm going to have to take you with me before you hurt someone." The cop was reaching for his gun.

"Fuck!" Phaellan smashed the officer across the face, ran. The officer rose to his feet as Phaellan vanished into the crowd. Behind him, he heard the snarl of an MP7, and there were screams. He ducked into an alley, making sure his case was secure. Fuck this! He ran into the city.

Tag:

whoa, I smell movie script :D

Time: 15:45 NDT (Nailiak Directorate Time)
Location: Huston Avenue and Linkur Drive
Situation: NSF Received Call Concerning Teen Gang Activity. Two Gang Members, One Male and One Female.
Details: Witnesses report the two where having sexual intercourse and using drugs on a bus bench. Once confronted by NPF (Nailiak Police Forces) the two refused to submit themselves and ran. NPF gave chase and the subjects were followed into a local establishment at the corner of Huston Avenue and Linkur Drive. Once inside, the NPF decided to use lethal force but before they could draw their weapons, the NPF units were gunned down by the establishment owners. Seconds later the two suspects ran into the street where they began biting each other feverishly. Before the male died from massive blood loss, he inserted himself inside the female and proceeded to snap her neck. Once more NPF arrive on scene, they went inside to detain the establishment owner. Inside they found the owner had been killed by a massive bite wound to his neck.

Total estimated situation time: 7 minutes.

Final Notes: Coroner reported massive amounts of brain trauma as the result of an unknown drug that was inhaled by each suspect. The same substance was found in the dead establishment owner who had not inhaled the drug but was bitten by the suspects. Which one had bitten the establishment owner has yet to be determined.

His orders where simple: Find whatever was causing these suicide runs against government buildings, and shut it down. The general had been abundantly clear that he didn't want any of this stuff anywhere near the RDMA base, and it was his job to make sure that that never came to pass.

Dekker Bray awaited his luggage at the air terminal. Bray cut an imposing figure, standing at 6'2" and weighing in at 280lbs of solid muscle. A mercenary of some renoun, he was currently employed by the RDMA, led by General Jeff Garand. Dekker's luggage appeared, and he swifty grabbed hold of it before it got much futher away. The small Glock sub-compact rode comfortably in its ankle holster, it was Dekker's usual back-up. His sidearm was in his bag. A local taxi cab took him to his hotel in the downtown area, where most of the drug dealing was conducted...

Phaellan was running through the alleys, his briefcase smacking against his leg. There were two vials. One is in the contaminated lab, the other is on me. I must get it back to Kerrik! He entered the street, and he heard running behind him. A quick lookback showed two officers, one was yelling, "Sir! Stop!" Phaellan ignored them.

This is too bloody convenient! First, an unknown agent that Kerrik thinks is in the Archive. My kid is almost killed, I come out without completing my mission. Now, the lab is contaminated, the data is sealed away beneath the agent that's loose. And the cop goes nuts on me? Too convenient. Some one doesn't want this decoded! He ducked into an apartment building.

He charged through the hall, knocking the cleaning lady out of the way. He turned into the kitchen, bowled a man out of the way, and dodged out the back door. He rounded onto the corner, slipped into a diner. He walked as calmly as possible into the restroom, closed and locked the door. He looked around, sat against the concrete wall. He pulled out his satellite phone. He dialed...

"Director Kerrik's office."

"This is Phaellan! Give me Kerrik, now!"

There was a click. "This is Kerrik."

"We've got a problem."

"The lab accident? What happened there?"

"I got dragged out... hit and run on my kid. Now some cops went spastic, and they're after me-" there was a click, and both men fell silent. This line is tapped!

Kerrik spoke calmly. "You know what to do." he killed the connection.

Phaellan closed his phone, looked at it. GPS online. Shit! Follow this! He chucked the phone into the toilet, flushed it. He drew his M9 Beretta. Outside the door, there was a footstep. He aimed his pistol, kicked the door. It flew open, and the silenced pistol coughed in the other man's face, throwing a cop back, onto the floor. "Sorry." he stated coldly, already running for the door.

OOC: Merc Soldiers, you're welcome to join, but please check TG for the plot points you'll need to know. TG me if you have questions. Anyone is welcome to have Blade instances in their nation.

IC:

Kerrik hung up the phone, feeling sick. What the hell is going on out there? He opened his desk drawer, removed his pistol. I may need this. His phone rang again, and he picked it up. "This is Director Kerrik."

"Kerrik, what the hell is your man doing?" Chancellor Fenris bellowed. "He got in a shootout with officers, killed another? What are you doing to stop this?"

"Sir, it's the drug in Transnapastain-"

"He's on it?"

"No!" he collected himself. "No, sir. I sent him to investigate it. Someone destroyed the lab. There's about seventy people dead at Isis from a false "accident", and he's being pursued by someone-"

"Why the hell should I buy this crap?"

"Sir, I've never lied to you. You must believe me. Someone, inside our government, doesn't want this being found out!"

"Why?"

"I don't know, but I think-" there was a click in the line. Kerrik tensed. "Sir, we're being tapped." He slammed the phone down, and pulled out his cell, dialing the Chancellor. "Okay, this is going to be tapped soon, but you need to believe me. Trust no one. Say nothing. I'm hanging up now."

"Good luck."

"You too, sir." Kerrik closed the line.

He rubbed his eyes, turned back to the video playing on the TV screens before him, video of the lab "accident". The vial had been broken. The agent had gotten loose. The Blade was in the air. Kerrik winced as each person subcumbed to the lethal psychosis in horror. This is the Mind Blade. He shuddered in his chair, turned off the screen. And Chief Duran released it. My own agent. He looked at the picture of the hooker, her face in the toilet. What the hell is going on?

Meanwhile, the previous night before the Isis incident

Mylor City
1:30am

“Alright, listen up!” Called Captain Jew, leader of OISCRU 4. “Disperse right away, or face the consequences!” He talked into the microphone, his voice blazing across the square.
About 30 minutes earlier, a large party at the TSN (Transnapastain State University) had spilled out into the streets, the music, a song Jew knew as “Superbeast” blaring in the background, The thumping of helicopters in the dark, moonless, night sky, the only light being form the fires, the searchlights on the CRU teams vans, cars, and the choppers.
The weird part about the whole situation, the partygoers had been fighting each other a lot. Fists, teeth, scratching, some people in the crowd seemed almost feral, and it was spreading fast, TNU had just beat NSU in football, and parties were common. More and more people we’re going crazy in there. It seemed like people we’re dying in there to, if you watched you could see the people fall, then not get back up, or if they did, they had serious convulsions later and dropped to the ground.
Others were setting fires, throwing rocks, breaking things, looting, rioting. It was crazy. It was also spreading. All over the campus this kind of thing was happening.
The crowd began to converge on the police units; which were formed into two lines with about 10 meters between the two, few officers stepped forward with batons to move them back into the perimeter. The crowd converged on them, throwing rocks a few officers ducked back, one man was too slow, and was dragged down into the crowd, he was trampled, another rioter fell stop him, scratching at his eyes will trying to get up, he officer screamed and fired his pistol, the rioter flew off him, he tried to get back up, only to be dragged back down, the rest of the officers ran to the outer line, where Jews was.
“Fire, fire, mow them down” screamed Jews!
The machine guns opened up, tearing the people apart, the choppers above began to rain fire down on the ground, they dropped, those that weren’t totaly animated, somehow, managed to get back up and keep coming, it took two or three hits to really put them down, but they kept coming, hundreds of people, still moving towards them
Over the emergency military channel, “This is General Sanders, All forces in the city of Mylor retreat, the situation is bad, and we’re losing people, retreat to Tagor Air Fleet base, repeat…”
“That’s it, we gotta to, load it up, and Chopper give us cover then get home!”
“Copy that, we gonna go low, get clear!”
The OISCRU officers retreated to their vans and drove off, leaving the crowd following behind them, still fighting each other.
The chopper dropped down into he square, and a hail of rocks slammed into it, one was sucked into the intake; the chopper began to spin out of control
“This is Trans 6-1, Trans 6-1, we’re going down, into the crowd! We… *crackle*..*buzz*…*static*
“6-1 come in damn you where are you!” yelled Jews into the radio
A load explosion in the distance shook the city and answered the question
En route to Tagor AFB
2:00

“Well, fucking run them down!” said Jews, yet another crowd of protesters had gathered in front of the convey.
Thump, thump as the bodies tumbled out of the way as the armored vans rolled over them
The driver raced towards the gate of Tagor AFB, which was opening for them, guards in the towers were holding the crowd back with their GMG’s, and E-21’s and A-20’s were taking off getting into position over the city, the gun-ship’s circled the city, All order was lost, and the city was in turmoil
“Many innocents are going to die tonight, and it’s all because of this damn…plague! Said Jews as the entered the base
On this moonless night, the city burned, and Jews was sure he heard the song “Eve of Destruction” playing somewhere in the distance, or maybe it was his own head. The fighting continued on through the night, and the estimated dead war in the 10’s of thousands.

bump

Phaellan made it into the ISA safe house, walking briskly up the stairs. His leather coat was tied about his waist, and he could feel the M9 bouncing under his arm. Please, God, let them not know about this safe house. He pressed his hand to the door.

ID Confirmed

The seemingly wooden door on the old apartment clicked, deep inside, and the doors opened inward. Phaellan stepped in, closed the doors behind him, locked them, and activated the locking override. He turned to the TV, hit the remote.

"...the city is still burning. Reports from Transnapastain hint at some sort of contaminant that launched the riot..."

Phaellan threw an ashtray to the side. "Well, fuck me!" he screamed. "Who the hell caused this?"

He flipped the channel, sick of seeing the carnage. The next broadcast flipped up, "...in other news, former Sub-Director of the ISA, David Phaellan, has aparently gone AWOL, and left several civilians dead at the scene of a car wreck-"

"Bullshit!" he cried. "Who the hell-" he was already opening a chest. My time is limitted here. Whoever it is, they'll be after me soon. He flipped the lid to the chest, removed the Needler Gun from inside, and pocketted several clips. Digging through the rows of ammo, he tucked several flash-bangs under his jacket.

He reached over, grabbed the phone. He dialed, and he heard two rings, and his wife picked up on her cell. "Hello?" she asked, her voice quivering.

"This is David. Shh!" he stated. "I can't talk long, but I've discovered something bad... it's what caused the mess in Transnapastain. Someone doesn't want me to figure it out, someone in our own command structure, and they're setting me up. Miranda, I may not make it. I need you to get the kids, get yourself, and get out of the hospital!"

"But he's still just barely out of surgery-"

"No choice! Call Colonel Buris, don't trust anyone else. They caused the car wreck! They'll do anything! Get out of that hospital!"

"I will."

"I love you." He hung up the phone, put the N.01 inside his coat, and head out the door, grabbing a drop bag of gear as he left. He vanished back into the city.

Dekker unpacked in a hurry, changing into a pair of baggy fatigues and a baggy black hooded sweatshirt. He went from professional, don't-f**k-with-me merc to overaged grunge in a matter of moments. His sidearm, an AMT M1911A1 Hardballer, was in an underarm holster on his left side, and the small Glock remained attatched to his left boot. A locking-blade SWAT knife from Smith and Wesson rounded out his mini-arsenal. Before he left his room, Dekker stashed a small rebreather in one of his many cargo pockets.

He headed down to street-level, making his way through the backalleys and sidestreets. The ghetto areas where nostalgiacally familiar, reminding him where his younger twin had grown up. Jack would have been a better choice for this assignment, but Jack wasn't an RDMA-employed merc. Dekker's icy blue eyes fixed on a drug deal being conducted over a small trashcan fire... he moved to intercept the dealer.

OOC: Merc, you're in Transnapastain, right? Or are you in Kaukolastan?

OOC: I wasn't aware that there was more than one country involved. Since the drugs seem to be coming from your nation, I guess it would be the best place to start looking.

Tag again.

What are the plot points? I'd like to introduce a DEO character. (Department of Extranormal Operations)

OOC: The worst of the drug stuff is in Trans. Kauk is clean for now, mostly. I'll post tomorrow. It's night-time for me.

After an intense 12 hours of fighting, order was restored to the city of Mylor. As if there was much to restore. The city was a complete ruin, fires burned in the downtown distract, the college was in ruins, and the total death count reached 10,347 people confirmed dead, The population of the city being around 20,000 people, this was a devastating loss.

The government activated the EBS system, and commandeered all radio stations and television networks. A lone man stood, in a black military style uniform, a saber at his hip, and the Transnapastain flag hanging behind him.

“Citizens of Transnapastain” he said

“Martial law has been declared, all citizens are ordered to remain in their homes unless on official business. All citizens are ordered to report to the nearest OIS office and receive work permit ID cards. A curfew has been imposed, any on the street after 10:00pm TCT will be arrested or shot.”

The broadcast ended

::Mylor Disaster Zone::

“Okay, order has been restored, for now, and the OIS reg officers have retaken control of the patrols.” Said Colonel Wells. “Captain, A message came through for you while you were out, you can pick it up in the comms room.”

Captain Jews, bone weary from nightly patrols, which had been pretty much uneventfully, but strenuous, walked out of the command building and across the compound to the Comms building. He entered and walked to the desk.

“Captain Jews here, got a message for me?” he asked

“Yessir” said the private behind the desk, he handed him an envelope, “its in there”

He walked back to his barracks room and opened the envelope



Captain Jews

You have been selected to join the Scorpion team, G unit, and report with your gear to the helipad at 0600-tomorrow morning.



::OIS Command Center, Valhalla, and unknown location:
“We have to get information on this drug, this plague…this…. blade” said Davis.

“Ye sir, I know” said Gallagher. “I noticed that once we closed off the cities, the drug episodes dwindled down in each city, BUT Jarout. The worst cases of drug related episodes are coming from the Harbor distract, so im guessing that the drugs are coming in via boat from areas unknown. So we can interdict shipping, and be done with it.”

“I’ve already stepped up customs inspections, ALL ships coming in are searched.” Said Supreme Commander Harlim

“Maybe threes already a ship in the harbor that the drugs are coming from?” asked Gallagher

“Maybe, put a Scorp team on it, have them stake out any un-allied foreign ships, and watch and see which ones people come from and leave a lot, or where trucks come and go from frequently “ Said Davis

“Yes sir, ill contact Lt. Col Fearson and have him put a unit on it” said Gallagher.




To: G Unit
From: Lt. Colonel Fear son
Re: Deployment “Operation: Dull Blade”

You are to preceded to the Jarout Harbor area and begin surveillance of all suspect ships. Attached to this report is a list of vessels to be watched, detail two or their men to each, and report any findings back

Deployment Time: Indefinite

Agent Daniel Able:

Welcome back from Oklahoma. I read your report and everything seemes in order. Sorry to do this, but you're heading out again, this time to Transnapastain.

Watch this please.



Agent Daniel Able of the DEO watched with a grim face as images of rioters flashed across the screen. A helicopter went down... buildings burned...



We have recieved confirmation from Transnapastain Intelligence that this riot was caused by the growing fear of a drug simply known as Blade.

Your assignment is to meet up with Transnapastain authorities and work with them on solving this problem. Your work with the Drug Enforcement Agency will serve you well on this assignment. Good luck.



Able sighed, and slipped back on his plain black T. Grabbing his .50 Desert Eagle and his duffle bag, Able slipped out of his apartment.

He left the light on, as usual.

************

Twelve hours later, Able and the Mark II VRAF Stealth Helicopter touched down at the helipad for the Transnapastain Command Building. Able jumped out with his duffle bag and the desert eagle securely in it's shoulder holster. He walked over to the first officer he saw and introduced himself.

Able wanted to get the job over and done with. There was a reason why he left the DEA, and it was simply that he was jaded with the job. He felt that with dealers, you take one off the street, two more would take his place. Still, Able follwed orders, and so it went...

"Hello, Able yelled over the din of the leaving helicopter, I am Agent Daniel Able of the Valient DEO, and I'm supposed to be meeting with a representitive of Transnapastain Intelligence. Where should I go?"

((OOC: Guess I'll drop in too. Hmmm... I'll use a character that is similar to Dekker Brey, a 'Hired gun,' so to say.))


*The burnette haired woman in her late twenties sat sipping a cup of coffee in a small downtown adobe diner in some small third world country whose name she couldn't be bothered to remember. The coffee was black, no creamer or sugar added. The woman wore a demin jacket over a yellow tee-shirt, a pack of cigerettes sitting in her right breast pocket of her jacket. She didn't look around herself, not caring that the sun was just rising from the east, rays of sunlight lancing away the early morning mist. All that matter to her right now was her piping hot cup of joe. Her cell phone abrptly rang, demanding her attention. With a disgruntled grunt, the woman put her coffee down and grabbed her cell phone, looking at who the caller was. She perked up as she saw who it was. Pressing talk, she listened to the voice on the other end.*

Man: "Found you some work. Meet you at the usual place with the details."

*The call terminated, and the woman casually stands up. She speaks to the man behind the counter in what sounds like Arabian, then leaves the diner. Once outside, she drops the cell phone and draws from under her jacket a silenced Glock 9mm. She shoots the phone on the ground several times, before returning the Glock and lighting up a cig, taking a long drag.*

Woman: "Another day another hit..."

*Without further comment, she leaves the downtown district and heads for a small park in middle of town. A bench sat in the middle of the park, which the woman promptly sat at. She waits ten minutes, and an Arabian man sits next to her. He held in his hands a suitcase. Lighting up another cigerrette, the woman blows out a cloud of smoke, and the Arabian coughs as he inhales some of the cigerette smoke, growls some insult under his breath, then leaves in a huff, forgetting his suitcase in his anger. Shrugging, the woman picks up the suitcase and stands up.*

Woman: "Finders keepers. Heh heh heh."

*She leaves the park, her next destination her hotel room. Once there, she opened the suitcase to see what booty she has earned. Inside the suitcase was an optical disk, a wad of cash, passports complete with ID cards, several credit cards, and a plane ticket. She picks up the disk and inserts it into a viewer. The information on it plays. A white man in a banker's suit sitting behind a desk appears on screen. His voice was the same as the man on the cell phone.*

Man: "Noir, good morning. How is Cario? The locals treating you well? I hope so. I've found you some more work. This time in Kaukolastan. Our client wants you to kill a certain man. Here are the peticulars."

*The screen went fuzzy, then was replace with a photo of Phaellan, his name, age, physical description, and other information such as family, known hang outs, and even his favorite food items were displayed next to the photo. The woman, obviously Noir, blows out another puff of smoke, memorizing all the information. The man returns to the screen shortly.*

Man: "Your client wants you to kill him using any means you deem nessacary, and retrieve a vial he may have on his person. You are to contact me as soon as you have this vial, and I will contact our client to arrange a meeting point. The pay for this job is one hundred thousand American dollars up front, plus another two hundred thousand once the mark is dead and our client has the vial. All the usual stuff is in the suitcase. Good luck."

*Noir grunts, then removes the disk, destroying this too. Closing the suitcase, she leaves her room and the hotel, heading for the airport. She was going to Kaukolastan.*


((OOC2: Good? Yes/no?))

Phaellan stepped into the alley behind the safe house, closing the door behind him. The sky was a dim orange and red, the sun was setting, and the temperature was at forty and falling. He glanced over, saw a man arguing with another man, standing over a burning barrel. He was about to dismiss them, but his analytical mind clicked. The one at the barrel is too well dressed, too shifty. Dealer. The other... The other man looked the perfect bum, a user fighting with his supplier over some price. That's not right. He's too confidant in his stance, not stooped or shattered. He leans to his left, as if he expects a wait on his hip. Professional. Shit. Phaellan calmly turned away, using his decades of spy work to keep not just a poker face but a poker stance, revealing nothing, walking away.

At the end of the alley, a van rolled to a stop, it's tinted windows revealing nothing. That's an ISA van! I recognize the design. The solid door began to roll aside, and Phaellan saw the shadow of a barrel appear. He dived behind a dumpster, the Needler leaping into his hand. He flipped the safety off, and prepared.

A bullhorn sounded as a man spoke into it. "Throw your gun away. Step out with your hands up, and you will not be harmed. There's no point in running."

Phaellan initiated the charger on the Needler, and he prepared to bolt. He crossed himself, pulled a flash-bang. WIth one quick flip of his hand, the pin fell away, as did the spoon. He counted to three, turned away, and rolled it into the alley, covering his ears and closing his eyes. The flash cascaded past his closed eyes, even facing away. The explosion nearly deafened him, but he gripped the Needler in both hands and fell out, laying in the street to lower his profile, firing side prone.

The first round hit the chamber, and the electrical charge triggered the block propellant, blowing the caseless round out of the first barrel. The recoil spun the barrel, and the next round was pulled back in by the vacuum. As it hit the chamber, the second barrel aligned, and it fired again. The tribarrelled SMG screeched like a buzz saw hitting metal, and the blue lick of fire arced from the whirling front end. At sixty rounds per second, the one hundred and twenty Tungsten Carbide needles shredded through the van in an instant, sennding the blinded gunner pitching backwards, his body seperated at the waist. The fire tracked to the cab, and the driver disintigrated into whirling hamburger. The line of fire touched the gas tank, an ten darts tore it open, the heat igniting the fuel and causing the van to erupt into flames that sent another passenger stumbling away, burning.

Phaellan released the trigger, nearly forty rounds left, and the red hot barrels slowed to a stop, then clicked back a half turn into alignment. He spun, keeping the dealer and the other man covered, grabbed his briefcase duffel (now containing his case) and ran again.

((OOC: Guess I'll drop in too. Hmmm... I'll use a character that is similar to Dekker Brey, a 'Hired gun,' so to say.))


*The burnette haired woman in her late twenties sat sipping a cup of coffee in a small downtown adobe diner in some small third world country whose name she couldn't be bothered to remember. The coffee was black, no creamer or sugar added. The woman wore a demin jacket over a yellow tee-shirt, a pack of cigerettes sitting in her right breast pocket of her jacket. She didn't look around herself, not caring that the sun was just rising from the east, rays of sunlight lancing away the early morning mist. All that matter to her right now was her piping hot cup of joe. Her cell phone abrptly rang, demanding her attention. With a disgruntled grunt, the woman put her coffee down and grabbed her cell phone, looking at who the caller was. She perked up as she saw who it was. Pressing talk, she listened to the voice on the other end.*

Man: "Found you some work. Meet you at the usual place with the details."

*The call terminated, and the woman casually stands up. She speaks to the man behind the counter in what sounds like Arabian, then leaves the diner. Once outside, she drops the cell phone and draws from under her jacket a silenced Glock 9mm. She shoots the phone on the ground several times, before returning the Glock and lighting up a cig, taking a long drag.*

Woman: "Another day another hit..."

*Without further comment, she leaves the downtown district and heads for a small park in middle of town. A bench sat in the middle of the park, which the woman promptly sat at. She waits ten minutes, and an Arabian man sits next to her. He held in his hands a suitcase. Lighting up another cigerrette, the woman blows out a cloud of smoke, and the Arabian coughs as he inhales some of the cigerette smoke, growls some insult under his breath, then leaves in a huff, forgetting his suitcase in his anger. Shrugging, the woman picks up the suitcase and stands up.*

Woman: "Finders keepers. Heh heh heh."

*She leaves the park, her next destination her hotel room. Once there, she opened the suitcase to see what booty she has earned. Inside the suitcase was an optical disk, a wad of cash, passports complete with ID cards, several credit cards, and a plane ticket. She picks up the disk and inserts it into a viewer. The information on it plays. A white man in a banker's suit sitting behind a desk appears on screen. His voice was the same as the man on the cell phone.*

Man: "Noir, good morning. How is Cario? The locals treating you well? I hope so. I've found you some more work. This time in Kaukolastan. Our client wants you to kill a certain man. Here are the peticulars."

*The screen went fuzzy, then was replace with a photo of Phaellan, his name, age, physical description, and other information such as family, known hang outs, and even his favorite food items were displayed next to the photo. The woman, obviously Noir, blows out another puff of smoke, memorizing all the information. The man returns to the screen shortly.*

Man: "Your client wants you to kill him using any means you deem nessacary, and retrieve a vial he may have on his person. You are to contact me as soon as you have this vial, and I will contact our client to arrange a meeting point. The pay for this job is one hundred thousand American dollars up front, plus another two hundred thousand once the mark is dead and our client has the vial. All the usual stuff is in the suitcase. Good luck."

*Noir grunts, then removes the disk, destroying this too. Closing the suitcase, she leaves her room and the hotel, heading for the airport. She was going to Kaukolastan.*


((OOC2: Good? Yes/no?))

I like, I like :wink:

*The flight into Kaukolastan was boring, the in-flight movie some lousy romance film with B-grade actors. Noir had fallen asleep before the opening credits finished rolling. The air liner touched down in Kuakolastan International Airport, and Noir was awoken by a Flight Attendent. Growling tiredly, Noir got up and streached, grabbing her suitcase from the overhead storage bin. She leaves the plane with the rest of the passenger. First things first, she had to find a hotel, something cheap. Walking through the airport terminal, Noir hails a taxi cab and tells the driver to take her to the nearest hotel. She leans back, lighting up another ciggerette as the cab pulls away from the airport, driving into town.*

Agent Daniel Able:

Welcome back from Oklahoma. I read your report and everything seems in order. Sorry to do this, but you're heading out again, this time to Transnapastain.

Watch this please.



Agent Daniel Able of the DEO watched with a grim face as images of rioters flashed across the screen. A helicopter went down... buildings burned...



We have received confirmation from Transnapastain Intelligence that this riot was caused by the growing fear of a drug simply known as Blade.

Your assignment is to meet up with Transnapastain authorities and work with them on solving this problem. Your work with the Drug Enforcement Agency will serve you well on this assignment. Good luck.



Able sighed, and slipped back on his plain black T. Grabbing his .50 Desert Eagle and his duffle bag, Able slipped out of his apartment.

He left the light on, as usual.

************

Twelve hours later, Able and the Mark II VRAF Stealth Helicopter touched down at the helipad for the Transnapastain Command Building. Able jumped out with his duffle bag and the desert eagle securely in it's shoulder holster. He walked over to the first officer he saw and introduced himself.

Able wanted to get the job over and done with. There was a reason why he left the DEA, and it was simply that he was jaded with the job. He felt that with dealers, you take one off the street, two more would take his place. Still, Able followed orders, and so it went...

"Hello, Able yelled over the din of the leaving helicopter, I am Agent Daniel Able of the Valient DEO, and I'm supposed to be meeting with a representative of Transnapastain Intelligence. Where should I go?"

The helicopter touched down lightly on the helipad of the Capital building in Transnapa City, the capital of Transnapastain. A lone man descended from it and began to walk towards the two officers waiting at the entrance to the building.

"Hello, I am Agent Daniel Able of the Valient DEO, and I'm supposed to be meeting with a representative of Transnapastain Intelligence. Where should I go?

Colonel Fires had been waiting here for him when he’d been informed by TATC (Transnapastain Air Traffic Control) that the helio was inbound.

“My name is Colonel Fires, head of region intelligence, Office of Internal Security, this is Deputy Commander Gray, of the FIA (Foreign Intelligence Agency) We’re your contacts, follow me.”

Fires led the group to a secure conference room.

His cell phone rang, he left the room, and quickly returned

"Err anyways" he began

“You government went over the basics with you? Good, then, OIS has several a Scorpion team in this, area, Juraut Harbor, we think the drugs are coming from this area, and we think threes a lab on one of these boats, they seem to be smarter than your average drug runners, I don’t really feel confirmable ordering you to DO anything, but I would like you to try and find this lab. That call was one of my section heads telling me we think we may have it, but we need proof, care to go in and get it?

in Jarout Harbor

damnit I hate this kind of work thought Jews, as he sat in a van parked across the street from slip 18, in the distance he could see a large tanker in the distance, very little activity around it. A few men around a trash can fire, prostitutes on the corner, in all, the same scum he’d expect to see anywhere else in Transnapastain’s Slum Distracts. The boarding ramp onto the boat was down, and a few men, sailors, he guessed, stood around it. They we’re talking and looked very relaxed

“Goodman man, there’s nothing here” Jews said aloud top the vans other occupant. A man he knew as John, who was in the back manning the Directional cam and mic build into the top of the van.

“Yea, I got nothing, cept an interesting conversation between two hookers about….well, never mind.” He said with a grin. “Wait a sec, hold on”

A car pulled into the slips parking area, and a lone man had appeared from a back alley and approached the men around the gangway, and John redirected the cam/mic

“Yo, man, Im here t see Ramirez, got to pick up the shipment.”

“Whets the password?” asked the guard he ha d a Mexican sound in his voice

“Columbian Pure” said the lone man

“Go ahead, amigo” said the lead guard

About 10 minutes later, the lone man and 3 other large men we’re seen carrying boxes down the gang way and loaded them into the back of the mans car. The car drove off into the night

“Get that video and feed to the OIS, right away, said Jews”

“Already on it” said john, dialing his cell phone

Able leaned back in his chair and rubbed his chin with his left hand...

"Yeah, I've been briefed, and don't worry about it: I've been ordered to follow your lead."

Able looked up at the Colonel.

"With that said, yeah, I'm willing to go in and take it down. Howeverm is this solo, or will there be a team? And just how good is this intell. I like to work with as few risks as possible, yeah know?"

“The Intel comes to me from my own men in the area, just got it. I have no idea if this is IT or not. Instead of a strike, how would you like to go in and get me the evidence I need to raid the place? Just go in and buy me some drugs, I’ve got a small camera glasses you can wear, with a Directional cam/mic build in, they'll never know. Just get in, take as much footage as you can, and get me some blade. If you run into trouble, ill have Scorp G- Unit standing by to get you out, just sue your cell phone and dial *517 send, if you cant do that, just use the damn searchlights ont he deck to signal and a chopper will pick you up”

*The hotel Noir found was reasonablely priced. She paid for a single bed room with a kitchenette, and received the cardkey. Once inside the room, she reopened her suitcase and removed all the items. She then lifted up the false lining underneath the items to reveal a hidden compartment. Neatly folded here was a sneak suit, another silenced Glock 9mm, spare ammo clips, a couple flashbangs, small bombs disguised as cell phones, a digital camera, and other assorted gadgets that'd be useful.*

Noir: "Bingo. Hmmm..."

*First she'd have to secure this room. A frenqrency jammer would do that quite nicely, just in case this room, in the highly off chance hat it was bugged. If it was, then the jammer would jam all out going frenqrencies so that anyone evesdropping would see and hear nothing but static. This she turned on inside the suitcase, and hid under the bed. Next she hung up the sneak suit in the closet, put her Glocks under the pillow, and pocketed one of the cell phone bombs. Having took what she would need, sh returns the false lining and puts the moeny, passport, and all but one of the credit cards back into the suitcase. The money she counts out, fifty thousand American dollars in large bills. She have to change these into Credits at a local bank. The credit card had a credt line of three thousand dollars. She put the cash into a plain envelope and the credit card goes into her wallet, next to her athutentic looking fake ID card.*

Noir: Now, where should I start looking for my mark? Hmmm... Where indeed. I better start off where he was last seen.

*Her destination in mind, Noir grabs both her Glocks and tucks them into her shoulder holsters, then she booby traps the door to her room, using a simple yet effective trap. A line of piano string was strung across the doorway at neck level, pulled taunght. At one end it was anchored down, and the other was attached to the pin of a grenade. This wasn't an ordinary grenade, it didn't have a timer. It would explode once the pin was pulled. The piano wire was hard to see, bt it cut quite nicely if you happened to run into it. Since the door swung outwards, she didn't have to be careful going out. Closing the door, she hung the "Please Do Not Disturb" sign on the doorknob, so the cleaning lady wouldn't come in and kill herself. She hummed a sung to herself, grabbed her last ciggerette and lit it, blowing smoke on the "Please do not smoke" sign next to the elevator.*

bump

ooc: cant do much right now

Phaellan could feel his heart pounding in his chest as he charged down the steps, into the subway station. Thank God we're not in Terenaus. I could never get away with this on the monorail. He thought as he approached the ticket counter. "Five Credits." the woman behind the counter stated. "Hey!" she exclaimed, snapping her bubblegum, "Aren't you that guy-"

Phaellan sighed, acting as though weary of this question. "No. You don't know how much crap I've gotten today about that." he held out an ISA procured fake ID with ready-pic, one of the items in the duffel. "I'm Brian Hollen. I've gotten pulled over twice!" he sighed and slumped his shoulders.

The woman smiled and laughed a little. "Sucks to be you. Hope the transit cop don't give ya hell." She unlocked the turnstile, and he walked through.

I hope so to, or I'll have to kill another man today. Phaellan stepped into the main hall, headed for the tracks. The station was mostly abandoned, as this was the middle of the day, and this was only a connecting line. Snagging a terminal time packet, he made sure no trains were coming. Contented, he moved through the station, approached the tracks. With one last look back at the people, making sure he wasn't being watched, he dropped down, onto the tracks. He ran along the line, making sure to avoid the third rail. Touch that, and it's night-night time. He headed for the Hospital.

*Noir arrived a bit late to the scene of the car accident, where Phaellan had ran over some poor kid. The SUV had already been towed, and just a few by standers were here and there.*

Noir: "Looks like I missed all the action. Hmmm..."

*CSI had already combed the area and removed all of the evidence, so there was nothing here she could use. If she had just hit some kid, where would she run off to? Her eyes drifted around, looking for possible get away places. She begins to pace off down the sidewalk, her steps measured and deliberate.*

Noir: There's an allyway across the street. Perhaps he ran down there?

*Shrugging, Noir looks both ways, sees that traffic is clear, then jogs across the street to the alley. The alley was between two larger buildings, one seemed to be an apartment. She tried a door found here, finding it to be unlocked. Swinging it open, Noir ventures inside, letting the door close shut behind her. The hallway was empty, not a soul in sight. She kept forward.*

Noir: If this wears out, I'll drop by his family's place. Maybe they'll know where he is.

Phaellan slogged through the tunnels, walking forward with his Needler in front of him, the flashlight illuminating the tunnel from his bracing hand. He walked quickly, but didn't run for fear of burning early. He had gone about three miles now, and was now Eastbound. Just a little more.

He found the service door. Pulling himself up from the tracks, he lined up on the door. Testing it, he found it locked, but his foot brought it down with little problem. Shoving it back into place, he killed his light and headed upwards, into the utility room. He reached a locker, popped it open with his KBAR.

Inside, he took a breath mask and a pipeline map. Time to switch tunnels. He glanced over at his destination, a hatch leading into the sewer system. He traced his route on the map, memorized it, then pocketed the map. He pulled on some rubber overalls and closed the locker. He slid through the hatch and dropped into the sewer.

Jews, for the 3rd day in a row, was back in the drivers seat of the van, parked, this time, on the side of an overpass overlooking slip 18

"Im hungry, John, lets go get food" he grumbled

“No, we got to stay here, man, ill call someone and have them bring us some food”

John, staring through a set of electronic binoculars out the side window, set them down and readjusted the cam/mic in the direction of the parking area of slip 18.

“Got something?” asked Jews

“No, not really, just a large group of Hobo, maybe 10 or 15 is gathering and…oh wait, someone is coming out of the ship, start recording, okay good, there’s 3 men, They’re talking but I can hardly hear what they are saying…something’s wrong with the damned mic.” He sighed “Anyways, we got the two men carrying boxes, the lead man is addressing the hobos, hang on, ill put it on the speakers.”

A faint crackle, static, and beneath the noise, parts of a conversation

….you want……well….the Blade!…..only…..a hit! Come……that’s right…….best high……only 25……hit……

The two men set up a table, and lines are forming, it’s a transaction, I cant get any closer, but they look like inhalers! This is it man, we got them!” exclaimed John

They watched and waited, the transaction was done in about 5 minutes, and the 3 men packed up and quickly ran back inside the boat and raised the gangway

“That’s different” said Jews

“Okay, the hobos are taking hits and….damn , they’re dropping like flies….they’re alive, I cans see em moving….strange

A few more minuets went by, and the men watched in silence

“Wonder if anything’s going to happen” said John

As if summoned by his words. The 1st man to take a hit stumbled back to his feet, he began to wander aimlessly, and HUGE grin on his face, the other were doing likewise. A few began to “fight” biting and scratching at each other, clawing, one man seemed to have lost an eye, though it was impossible to tell.

“You had to ask,” muttered Jews

Then the man who got up 1st saw the trash could fire

He ran towards it, picking up two Whisky bottles along the way, he threw them on the ground near the fire, and then tipped the can, embers spilled out and ignited the alcohol, he burst into flames and began to run around again, leaving a thick trial of blood behind him

“Guys on fire don’t bleed like that,” said Jews

“They’re ALL bleeding like that look!” shouted John

He was right, each man and women present was bleed profusely from all visible orifices, noise, eyes, mouth, and ears.

Then they began to die, they’d begun to convulse horribly, falling to the ground, getting back up, to wander, then fall again. One woman fell into the fire, and just lay there, burning alive, one by one, the hobos dropped for the final time, the parking lot was a bloody mess, and the fire was spreading slowly as the whisky ran towards the drain. As quickly as it started, 10 people lay dead, some of burns or wounds and blood lose, and some of unknown reasons…

“Those ones, they just up and died for no reason” whispered Jews “That means the drug killed them, they had one hit, and they died in” he looked at his watch “7 minutes!”

“Dear god, I didn’t realize that the drug ITSELF was killing people too!” exclaimed John

“We got to do something about this, we got to get this info to OISHQ NOW!” said Jew as he climbed into the drivers seat

As John took his seat in the back he asked “Are you still hungry?”

“What do you think? If I even think about fire or food right now, im going to hurl” it was true, he was having trouble keeping it down at that very moment

“I was hoping you’d say that” John whispered as the drove off towards OISHQ

Transmission interception. Decoding, please standby...

NSF Report 33456B
Unnatural Crime
Possible Unnatural Drug Circulation
NIF SOD(Nailiak Investigation Forces Special Ops Division)
Code: Grea 5 3, Repeat, Grea 5 3
End

Code Grea 5 3, the go code. Operation Lawless is officially underway. About a day ago, Dictator Kailian gave the order to make preparations to investigate the unknown drug that has shown up in all of the recent unnatural crimes. She scoffed. Unnatural crimes? What kinda moron came up with the code name for unusual crimes? Could have just called them, bum bum bummm, unusual crimes! Suits, who needs 'em?

NIF SOD's top kid, Lynthia Kijulas (Lyn-theah Ki-jewl-as) is the only female in the whole NIF SOD history to actually survive training and conditioning camp. Her hair is as dark as the night sky and her dark eyes are as cold as a dead star. She was born and raised on the costal cities but their influence never rubbed off on her. Despite her mother and fathers wishes, she stayed in the military after her compulsory term was served. She quickly rose in rank and suddenly disappeared. She was offered a position in the ranks of NIF SOD. Even after she learned that all females who were sent to the camps died, she was still determined to be the first. Two years later she graduated with the highest honors Nailiak has to offer, even though she doesn’t really exist.

Voices in her head keep repeating her mission objectives. Find Phaellan. Find his connection to the drug trafficing and shut it down. She shook her head violently. She wanted the voices to go away. Her eyes wandered out the window on the plane. She'd never gotten the chance to enjoy flying. Most of the time she was in the air it was for training and conditioning drills. Her hands caressed each other then her fingers laced together. In fact... this is the first time in many of years that I have actually had the chance to stop and relax.

A voice over the intercom broke the silence in the cabin. "Attention all passengers, We are now arriving in Kaukolastan International Airport. We would, at this time, like all passengers to begin buckling up and returning all trays to their upright positions, Thank you." The voice cut out and she groaned at the thought of having to move her body. She had slumped into a comfortable slouch and was just beginning to understand what comfort truly was. She sat up and groaned again. Im a damn NIF SOD and I cant work this god-for-damning-piece-of-crap-seat- A loud click fills the cabin as she finally puts her seat belts together. She looks around at the empty cabin and wonders why NIF SOD reserved the entire first-class cabin especially for her. Men. She scoffed. Those pigs will do anything to try and get brownie points.

After the plane landed and she found her luggage, she left through the main entrance and flagged down a taxi. The Taxi dropped her off at a hotel just outside the city limits. Before she went to rent a room she looked around and was disgusted by the quality of the environment of this nation. Nothing is as good as the lush forests of Nailiak. She signed and entered the hotel office.

Inside her room, she threw her bags in the corner and sprawled out on the bed. She moaned softly and rolled on her side. At least they have soft beds and clean sheets. Not that Nailiak has bad beds and dirty sheets or anything, just nice to know there is something likeable about this barren nation. She closed her eyes and began to doze off. I'll start my search in the morning. She yawned. I think I've earned a good night's sleep. Her neck muscles relaxed and her head rolled slightly. For the first time in years she slept in a real bed.

*Noir had found the destroyed black van, as well as a mob of cops around it. She wasn't allowed to go near it. Judging by the looks of it, the wreckage was fresh, maybe Pheallan was nearby? Hopefully, then this would be the shortest hit to date. Night was falling, the sun setting in the west. It was cold, and Noir's teeth began to chatter.*

Noir: "Damn, it's cold..."

*Drawing her demin jacket tighter around her frame, Noir left the scene to search for likely escape routes.*

Phaellan reached his destination, climbing up the ladder. He slid the access door open, pulled himself up. He emerged inside of a utility room, and he quickly shucked his overalls, bolted the hatch. He exitted the service room, and stepped into the hospital hallway. He headed for the nearest desk.

"Yes?" the orderly asked.

"Do you know where the Phaellan child is? I'm a friend of the family."

"Oh, yes, sir. They're back in 412, West Branch. But sir, that has been closed off by a Colonel Buris. You aren't allowed-" she quieted as the M9 pistol grip smashed into his head. She toppled forward, and Phaellan jumped the counter. He shoved her unconscious body under the desk, locked it, and aquired a set of scrubs.

"Sorry." he stated quietly as he left, now dressed as a doctor.

He reached the 400 level, West Branch without incident. When the elevator opened, however, there were two soldiers waiting for him. "Sir, you aren't allowed in this area." the first stated, both aiming their guns.

"Listen, get Buris. He knows me. I'm here to see him."

"How did you know-"

"I sent him here!" Phaellan snapped.

"Just get the Colonel." the second soldier ordered, still eyeing Phaellan. The first vanished.

Moments later, Buris rounded the corner, "-the hell you let him onto this floor! I'll have-" he froze, "Dave! I knew you'd pull through." he went to pat his friend on the back, but his nose wrinkled. "Where have you been?" he sniffed the air.

"Sewers. Where's my family?"

"Protected in 412." Buris scratched his head. "You mind telling me what the hell is going on? The ISA just up and went silent, and everyone's scared shitless."

Phaellan closed his eyes for a moment, hoisted his duffel. "That drug from Transnapastain..." he filled Buris in on the story as they headed for the room. "...so, I want to get my family on that chopper, and get back to the capital. Then, I'll go back to Isis, to try and get the data that's there."

"Beneath the contaminant?"

"If I have to."

"I think I can help." Buris handed him a card with information. "Project VIPER. It will help you." They reached the room.

Phaellan opened the door, and immeadiately, there was a joyful call. "Daddy!" He smiled, and opened his arms.

Ten minutes later, the helicopter lifted from the roof, heading for the Captial.

Two Hours Later

"You're going back to Isis, Phaellan." Kerrik stated, offering his subordinate a glass of water.

"I know sir. The system will only respond to me, as I used it last, and it's been frozen."

"Exactly. However, everything started when you went there before. With suitable backtracking, they will know that you mean to return to Isis and thus complete the circle."

"And it's contaminated all to hell. I don't see how I'm supposed to get in there, fight off whoever's coming for me, get the data, and get out... while in a HAZMAT suit."

"You won't be in a HAZMAT suit."

"What?"

"Buris spoke of a Project VIPER, correct?"

"Yes, but what does-"

"You'll see..." Kerrik sipped his glass. "You move in an hour. Go, spend time with your family. And remember... you were never here."

*The entrance of a subway station revealed itself, and Noir descended this into the lobby. The lady inside the ticket both asked for 5 Credits to pay for Noir's ticket, which she paid. Entering the boarding area, Noir performed a quick, but not so thorough, search of the vincity, yet couldn't figure out how to proceed from here.*

Noir: "Well... F*ck me black and blue, I've lost him... Hmmm... Train tracks..." Pheallan is wanted, so he wouldn't exactly want to ride on the train... When you want to take a train, but don't want to ride in one, you take the tracks. But... Which way did he go? Lucky quarter, don't fail me now!

*Taking out a gold colored coin, Noir flips this into the air, calling out heads for the north bound track in her head. The quarter spun end over end in air as it went up, then came down, its owner catching it with one hand and slapping it on the back of her other hand...*


((OOC: Um... Which way did Pheallan go? You didn't say in your post. ^^;; ))

*The entrance of a subway station revealed itself, and Noir descended this into the lobby. The lady inside the ticket both asked for 5 Credits to pay for Noir's ticket, which she paid. Entering the boarding area, Noir performed a quick, but not so thorough, search of the vincity, yet couldn't figure out how to proceed from here.*

Noir: "Well... F*ck me black and blue, I've lost him... Hmmm... Train tracks..." Pheallan is wanted, so he wouldn't exactly want to ride on the train... When you want to take a train, but don't want to ride in one, you take the tracks. But... Which way did he go? Lucky quarter, don't fail me now!

*Taking out a gold colored coin, Noir flips this into the air, calling out heads for the north bound track in her head. The quarter spun end over end in air as it went up, then came down, its owner catching it with one hand and slapping it on the back of her other hand...*


((OOC: Um... Which way did Pheallan go? You didn't say in your post. ^^;; ))
OOC: North, then headed east on the Three Line.

OOC: North, then headed east on the Three Line.

((OOC: Thanks. ^_^))

*The coin came up heads. North it was, then. Glancing around to make sure no one was watching her, Noir stepped off onto the track and disappeared into the northbound tunnel. She trekked the distiance, eventually finding a track that branched off to the east. Again the coin came out, this time landing on tails. Take the east track then. She wtiched tracks, travelling now east.*

Noir: "When I find this guy... I outgha smack him around a few times for making... A lady like me walk all this distance. Gawd..."

*She said in between breathes. She wasn't out of shape, she just hated walking. It wasn't long before she found some sort of service door that looked like it had been kicked in, then put back into place. She could tell because the side where the hinges were was splintered.*

Noir: "My lucky coin is never wrong!"

*She climbed up onto the platform, pushed the door down, and found a row of lockers. She inspected each one, found one showing evidence of being broken into.*

Noir: "Where did you go now, my mark... Into the sewers, mayhaps?"

*She took out her 9mm, shoot the lock on another locker, and searched the insides, finding a map, breath mask, and rubber overalls. She looked over the map.*

Noir: "Hmmm..."

*There were any number of places he could have went. The question was where. Finding out was the fun part. She studied the map for a while, trying to figure out how to proceed from here.*

bump before returning to Isis

bump before returning to Isis

bump before i frag another city or more people die very painfuly :D

Three V-22 Ospreys skimmed across the waters, their rotors throwing a wash as the purple skyline faded to black, and the ominous volcanic formations of Isis rose in the distance. Phaellan rode in the lead V-22, his breath hissing through the mask of the Viper Armor. Back to Isis, where this started. Down, into the depths. Now, we'll know exactly what this shit does.

Truth is taking over
Wraped up in a suit of armor
Cannot penetrate this metal
Don't it make you feel insecure

Phaellan glanced over at Lt. Trask, head of Hunter/Killer Team Three. Trask kicked back, relaxed in his bulky Viper Armor. "Relax, sir. This stuff has been tested in every known situation." Trask's normally gruff voice was distorted even more by the rebreather on the mask, his features hidden beneath the nearly impenetrable suit. "It's just hot as hell."

Phaellan raised his eyebrows beneath his mask and helmet, and he asked, "Really? Have you seen the footage of what this Blade did to B9?"
Trask shuffled a bit, then replied, more subdued. "Yeah, I was just trying to stay positive."

The pilot called back, "Three minutes until arrival!" Outside the front window, the base lights could be seen agains the darkening sky and thrashing waves.

Seasong they are changing
Lit up like a Christmas tree
Giving all the things desired
Too bad all the gifts are defective

Phaellan felt the Osprey slow, heard the clanking of the shifting engines as they aligned skyward. The tilt-rotor came to a hover, holding steady over Isis's Tertiary Strip. The V-22 settled down, the other two following. The engines died away. The pilot called back, "Okay, we're down. Unclamp and move out."

The hatch lowered, and the squad stood, facing out into the night. Phaellan stepped out, and was greeted by a surprised looking Major. "What are you wearing?" The Major asked.

Phaellan grinned behind his mask. "You've never seen a Viper Suit?" The Viper Soldier was a marvel of military design, a combination of high technology and primordial fear. Kaukolastan DoD had designed these uniforms with the intent to break a soldier's mind and will to fight. The uniform began with an elite soldier, trained to the limit of human abilities. These soldiers were wrapped in an reactive, sealed body glove, then their dull gray BDUs. On top of this was the light combat armor and shock plates. The soldiers wore full gas masks, with a large black rippled air tube running to a converter unit on their chests. The goggles on the mask were ruby lensed, and the flared helmet covered everything not already masked. On top of the converter and over the light armor was a heavy armored trench coat. This coat started with a high collar, clasped around the chest, then draped to their jackboots. This coat was filled with heavy combat armor. Each layer of the armor was sealed from the one below it, making this armor not only effective and terrifying, but HAZMAT capable.

The Viper had emerged from two schools of thought in the DoD, one who wished to have a rapid reaction force in the event of a WMD strike, a unit that could deploy into the contaminated zone to sterilize the opponent and aide more conventional survivors. The other goal was a perfect shock soldier that could wield any weapon and strike fear into the hearts of their opponent. The Viper did both of these, with its advanced electronics, superior armor, sealed environment, and outright terrifying appearance.

So Phaellan completely understood the Major's shock. "This is the newest HAZMAT armor from DARPA. It's what we're going into the contaminate zone with."

Glitch in the system is pulling down

The Major shook his head. "Those things are gonna scare everyone in the base, but with what we think is down there..."

"What do you think is down there?"

"Artifacts. The Director didn't tell you?"

"We've not received word from Isis since the accident."

"Damn. The saboteurs managed to knock out most communications, but we thought we'd fixed it. However, Kerrik was worried about other forces in the B9 sector, so he had us bring some firepower." Phaellan pointed a guantletted thumb towards Trask, who was putting on a Purple Haze Flamethrower. "What are these Artifacts?"

"Survivors."

"I thought everyone died?"

"So did we, but then the remaining cameras saw some people alive. They're insane, attacking each other, and every probe we've sent in has ended in disaster. I wish we had some of that armor of yours." The Major visibly shuddered. "And I can't trust anyone..." he glanced around.

All these dirty bricks, they weigh a ton
The pressure's mounting and I don't mind
Waiting for these strings to come undone
The water's rising and I don't mind

They headed into the base, the HK squads following. Thirty six of the elite SpecForce soldiers accompanied Phaellan, three squads from HK Team Two, all dressed in Viper Armor and armed with brutal weaponry. Phaellan noticed the way the personelle of this base glanced about, nervous. Each one wore a gas mask as protection against whatever could get loose, and they eyed one another warily, looking for the saboteurs among their friends and coworkers. Lovely. They stepped onto the service elevator.

The Major wiped the sweat from his brow, glanced around at the faulty lighting. "Generator's having trouble since the breach. One of the maniacs set off a Semtex blast near the reactor, and we've had to switch to back up for fear of nuking ourselves." he smiled weakly. "Good luck down there, sir. And make sure you restart that level's backup generator and turn on those filters! It will make everyone up here very thankful."

"No problem, Major." Phaellan waved as the elevator lowered.

"Good luck!" the Major called down the shaft. Then he turned away, swallowed hard. God help them.

Phaellan turned to Trask. "Load 'em." There was a series of clicks and hisses. Guns loaded, pilot lights came on. "Welcome to Isis."

Running for the shelter
The cul-de-sac is never ending
Cracks along the shell they surface
Pointing out the lines of distaste

The elevator came to rest on B9, the shaft creaked. Two lights died, and the squad fanned out. Phaellan approached the door. "Keep it sealed, boys and girls, once we're through, the air is hostile."

The door chimed, and a gentle female recorded voice asked, "Please enter access." Phaellan punched his code. "Prints unconfirmed. Please speak for voiceprint."

Phaellan answered, "Open the door." Even through his filter, the computer picked out his voice, and the airlock opened. The squad filed in, and the back door closed, the air changed, and the interior door cycled apart. The darkened, redlit corridors of B9 were revealed. Two bodies were slumped against the airlock controls, laid out where the Blade had struck them down. One had impaled the other with a pen, right through the temple, and that one in turn had been broken over a counter. Both were now equally dead, their pools of blood mixed and dried. Brain matter was scattered about, as well as shells from a M4 Carbine. There was a liver in the corner, just laying there. Phaellan inhaled sharply. "Jesus."

Trask commented, "Watch it, people. I'm showing Blade in the air, plus traces of Chimera, Bubonic, Pox, and Marburg. Christ! Someone ran around shattering everything they could find!" he pointed to a blown apart airlock, where the words "Level Five" could barely be seen. "Keep it sealed."

Someone swore. Phaellan grimaced. "This place is death. On the good side, Blade will kill you before any of the rest does." His monitor beeped. "And nerve gas. What the hell happened down here?"

Ahead, a guard was slumped against the wall, his gas mask in place, a row of bullet holes across his chest, and scratch marks on his skin. His M4 was lying mangled to his side, and three dead scientists lay around him, dead from his gun. "Well, looks like they had enough time to go postal." someone commented.

Trask stated. "Stay alert. If any of these wack jobs survived..."

The squad moved into the darkness.

Visualize escaping
Sucked in by the tractor beam
Karmic retribution waiting
Eager to spread its seedlings

Glitch in the system is pulling downLyrics from "Glitches" by V-Shape Mind

*Noir trekked through the sewers, cursing up a storm.*

Noir: "Stupid mark! I'm SO killing him with my bare hands when I find him!"

*Her cell phone rang, and Noir searched her pockets, found the cell phone bomb, looked at it, then quickly put it back, searched again, and found her real cell phone. She answered it. The man on the other side spoke. Noir didn't recognize his voice.*

Man?: "Hello Noir. You're nowhere near Pheallan. He's already at Isis. I've arranged for a team of ISA agents to act as back-up for him. You'll be one of those agents. Get to him, and kill him before he proccesses what's on that vial. The helicopter will be waiting at the airport."

Noir: "How did you-?!"

*The line went dead before she could finsh her question. Noir frowned. She didn't like this. Only Borris knew her cell phone number. Her clients were never given her number. She climbed out the sewer and onto the empty street. She found a payphone and called a cab. Half an hour and three showers later, Noir was in the air, wearing an ISA issued HAZMAT suit. There were a numble of others there, all wore HAZMAT suits too. She frowned even more. This reeked of double cross. The helicopter was en route to Isis. It'd arrive a few minutes after Pheallan did.*


((OOC: Me and Kuak discussed me over AIM already, so dun yell at me.))

((OOC: Me and Kuak discussed me over AIM already, so dun yell at me.))

nicely done :D

ISA Resource File:
VIPER Concept.
http://server5.uploadit.org/files/JosephKauk-ViperTriNS.jpg
Pictures by Transnapastain and Nailiak, Concept by Kaukolastan

((OOC That concept picture is thanks to Nailiak and Transnapastain. Kaukolastan sits behind the desk while we do the dirty work. ;]))

Lynthi's eyelids slowly crept up and her dark eyes began to franticly search the room. An ugly red dresser was about 2 feet from the foot of her bed. The window next to the door on her right were closed and veiled by gaudy looking red curtains. On her left was the only table in the room and the door to the bathroom, which lay half open.

BEEP BEEP BEEP!

She jumped out of bed and pulled the silenced 9mm Berretta from her back pocket.

BEEP BEEP BEEP!

Is it a bomb? No, it can’t be. Bombs don’t beep that loud, if even at all.

The gun pointed at her bag, which lay in the corner less than five feet away. Slowly she climbed out of her bed, gun still pointed at the bag as if something would jump out at her at any moment.

BEEP BEEP BEEP!

Her hand went for the bag and grasped a single zipper cord. Slowly the zipper separated the teeth, revealing the contents of the bag for the first time. Command said not to open the bag until I received a signal. Said I would know what that was. I sure hope this is it and not some big ass bomb. She lifted the top with her free hand, gun still poised and waiting. Inside the bag were a laptop, cell phone, numerous wires, a small vial of liquid, and some towels. Towels? What the hell am I going to do with towels? Take a show... She shook her head and didn’t bother finishing the thought. I bet the vial is shampoo or body soap.

BEEP BEEP BEEP!

"Alright you damn piece of sh**!" She looked at the cell phone, which was emitting light and shaking violently. She picked it up and flipped it open, then placed it on her left ear. "Hello?"

"Glad you are awake, I was beginning to worry that you had gotten yourself killed on your first day of vacation." A gruff voice blared through the speaker.

"This is one helluva vacation spot, been here almost 15 hours and have yet to see a tree, Guli (Gull-ee)." Her voice was firm with no hint of sarcasm anywhere. She stood up and placed her silenced 9mm berretta on the dresser.

"I’m sorry you feel that way. Enough chit chat, lets get down to business." He cleared his throat. "You first objective, as you know, is to find Phaellan. The only way you are going to get this done is by getting in contact with Kerrik."

"Where is this Kerrik at? The local strip joint?" She sighed heavily as she knelt down and opened the other compartments of the bag.

"Very funny, try acting professional for once in your life. He's the ISA director. Try looking there. Also, the ISA have been very quiet recently and we are very worried. Don’t expect them to jump at the chance to help you. They are more likely to question you about why you want to find Phaellan. Just tell them Big Brother Nailiak is watching them squirm and quiver over the air waves." The phone clicked and an automated message kicked in.

"Thank you for using Naili-" She closed the phone and let it fall into the bag.

"Find Kerrik at the ISA Director's office. Simple, I hope." She scoffed then began to chuckle a little. “ISA have been very quiet lately. Like THEY have anything to hide.” She pulled some new clothing from the bag and swapped them out for the ones she was wearing. Who ever packed this bag has no fashion sense. He body shivered as she stared at herself in the mirror. A pink t-shirt and some tan form-fitting pants. "I am defiantly going to kill whoever packed this bag."

She closed all the bag compartments and went into the bathroom to fix her hair. She came out with her hair pulled back tightly into a ponytail, which was tied off with a dark blue tie-band. She picked up her keys from the bed, which had fallen out when she was asleep, locked the door, and left her hotel room slamming the door behind her.

She walked down and around numerous staircases until she finally reached the main road. As she flagged down a Taxi she remembered what Guli said about the ISA being quiet. This really bothered her too. Maybe it's just another scare tactic. She tried to reassure herself but it wasn't working.

The Taxi pulled next to her and the passenger side window lowered, revealing a scruffy foreigner with bad teeth and a rat’s nest for hair. “Vair too?” She barely made out what he asked.

“ISA Director’s building, and make it snappy!” She barked as she opened the rear passenger door and slipped in. The driver replied with some word she didn’t understand and the car sped off. She didn’t bother with the seat belt.

*The helicopter landed at the Isis Island, and the team disembarked. Another helicopter had landed two. A team had also disembarked from that too. Two of them from the second heli were carrying a some sort of footlocker. Noir snorted. A major came out to greet them.*

Major: "You the ISA back-up?"

ISA Agent?: "Yup."

*The major nodded and let them pass, Noir was behind the man who spoke. The team of forty-something went down to B9, passing through a couple airlocks.*

Noir: ... I bet my left arm that's a nuke in that footlocker. If this isn't a double cross, then I don't what is. Better get ready for them to try to kill me.

*She had snagged a couple cell phone bombs from her room, as well as the digital camera and handheld rebreather. These were tucked into a pouch on the HAZMAT suit.*

Phaellan stepped into the Analysis room, where he had started the first sample. He approached the computer. looking around. Bodies littered the floor, and its Onyx color was replaced with caked blood. He looked down at the computer console, where Section Chief Duran was slumped, his face reduced to a pulp, the shattered vial of Blade in his hands. "Why?" Phaellan asked as he shoved the Chief's body away.

He drew the second vial from a sealed container, inserted it into the machine. Analysis Resumed. Phaellan looked over the room, where numerous bodies were dismembered and broken. This stuff is sick. The machine beeped. Battery Failing. Power loss in twenty minutes.

He used his tongue to flick over to Trask's frequency. "Damnit, Trask! Get that power on!"

"We're working on it, sir. The door got barricaded from inside. We're breaking through now."

Phaellan looked back at the halls of the dead.

*The team arrives in B9, and is sickened by what they see. Dead bodies everywhere, some show signs of being chewed up, others were shot. Blood was everywhere. This was even worse then that Somalia incident Noir had once taken part in a few years ago.*

Noir: "What the hell happened? Everyone go schizo?"

ISA Agent?: "Shut up, and remember your job."

Noir: "Yeah yeah..."

*They trekked forward, trying to find Pheallan. Noir noted that the HAZMAT suit was thin, not at all armored. Even a graze from a bullet would puncture the suit and let in whatever the hell they released downhere. She guessed cyanide gas, or some such deadly nerve agent. Her hand rested on the butt of her Glock.*

Noir: Now far could I get if I shoot this one now?

B9, Sector 7
Power Room

Trask kicked the last board out of the way, and the dust settled. His NVG illuminated the redlit room better than a flashlight, but it was still fuzzy and dim. He glanced around. No bodies for once. He remembered the hallway they had come through, the corpses wedged in gears, bisected with acetylene torches... the exploded torch and user. Keep cool, Trask. You've served in worse places. He answered himself. Where? "Shut up." he told himself.

In the corner, he found the first body. A young man, wearing a respirator, a cannister of atropine at his side, and a Beretta in his hand, slumped against the wall, blood running from under the mask. Poor bastard. "Hey, check this. Here's our proof that masks alone won't stop this stuff. Must have come through the skin."

Sargeant Duffy walked over, touched the body with his gun. The tech fell over, collapsed onto the deck. "Looks like he went out nicely, not like the rest."

"Quit playing with the dead, Sarge."

"Yes, sir."

There was a call from the corner, as Corporal Fergusson found the generator. "Sir, I've got it. Diesel hybrid, I think, like back on the farm. I'm gonna start it up."

"Go on."

The Corporal gave the cord a yank, and kicked the side. There was a thrum, and the generator roared to life. The lights on the boards went green, and there was a steady hum through the facility as the vents kicked to life. "That wasn't too hard." Trask stated. "Hey, Phaellan! We got the filters running. No lights yet, though."

"I've got power to the computer. That's all I need."

"Roger, we're pulling out." Trask waved his hand. "Okay, kids, pack it up, lets get out of here. This place gives me the creeps." He took one step when his foot caught on something. He looked down, and the technician had toppled onto his leg. He started, then chuckled, "Sarge, I told you not to poke him over!" he stepped away, letting the body fall.

But the body did not fall. It grabbed his leg tougher, spun around to glance up at him. Wild eyes stared up from behind the respirator, and the mouth worked silently. Snot and blood ran from the nose, and the tech spoke raspily, "Help me..."

"Holy shit!" Trask yelled. "He's alive!" He knelt down. "How did you-"

The man pointed to the atropine cannister. "Direv Nine... it works..." he collapsed to the deck, shaking.

Trask stepped back. "What the Hell is going on?"

The man stopped shaking, glanced back up at him. "It's the darkness. It's in my mind... terrible nightmares... help me."

Trask nodded. "I will." he spun. "Sarge! Get two men to help him out! Be careful-"

In the darkness beyond the room there was a crash of equipment and a scream of pain. "What the fuck?"

The man answered. "Others... took the Direv... gave in to the dreams..." he began to convulse again.

"Oh, fuck!" Trask muttered. "Let's evac back to the Analysis Sector. Bring him, and let's get the hell out of here!" ISA, what the hell did you do?

B9, Near the Analysis Room

*The team went deeper into Isis, finding more dead bodies. Noir kicked a woman who's neck had been chewed through by someone.*

Noir: "Lovely. Reminds me of my last boyfriend."

ISA Agent?: "I thought I told you to shut up."

*The man in the HAZMAT suit in front of her scolded Noir, getting tired of her needless comments and witticisms.*

Noir: "Will do."

*They could see the lab ahead of them, where Pheallan should be.*

Noir: "Leave the rest to me."

*Noir said. Behind them, Trask and his group rounded the corner carrying the Techguy...*

Trask saw the suited figures, and he cued the internal mic. "Phaellan, you've got company. Level Five HAZMAT gear, armed to the teeth, outside your outer airlock. Orders?"

"Take them, LT."

"Yes, sir."

Trask gripped his flamethrower in one hand, held the smoke grenade in the other. "Contact." he stated. He threw the grenade, and more volleyed from behind him. In an instant there was a rush of smoke, flash-bang detonations. The Viper's internal systems compensated, and the view was reduced to NVG after the flashes ended. Smoke filled the hallway, obscuring the vision of anyone not equipped. The jamming on the Vipers kicked in, scrambling radio frequencies and playing subliminal surrender demands. He stepped forward, into the swirling smoke, and the pilot light kicked into full force, sending a gout of flame forward. Beside him, three more flamethrowers roared into position, and Pancor Jackhammers thundered from the ominous, red-goggled figures in their armored trenchcoats.

The Tech screamed wildly as his nightmares gained new fodder, and below, the screams resounded from metal walls.

“The Intel comes to me from my own men in the area, just got it. I have no idea if this is IT or not. Instead of a strike, how would you like to go in and get me the evidence I need to raid the place? Just go in and buy me some drugs, I’ve got a small camera glasses you can wear, with a Directional cam/mic build in, they'll never know. Just get in, take as much footage as you can, and get me some blade. If you run into trouble, ill have Scorp G- Unit standing by to get you out, just sue your cell phone and dial *517 send, if you cant do that, just use the damn searchlights ont he deck to signal and a chopper will pick you up”

"Yeah, I can do that..."

"When do we leave? I wanna get this over and done with so that I can get back to Valient."

OOC: sorry, i've been busy... just get to me to the drop, and I'll rp from there :D

OOC: Man, has Trans been waiting for you to return! :D

*Noir heard a metal tink as the smoke grenade hit the ground. She jumped forward in front of the person in front of her just as the grenades expelled their smoke. Her back was to the flashbangs, but even so, the flashbang still dilated her eyes. She ran blind to the airlock seperating her from Pheallan, her hands groping for the open button. Finding some sort of button, she slams her fist into it. The airlock doesn't respond. Behind her, a trio of flamethrowers lit up the ISA Team, setting some of them on fire. The team began to return fire, some seeking cover behind anything that could offer up cover. They weilded handguns and M4s Assualt Rifles. Noir herself was far enough away that she wasn't in much danger. She pounded her fist on the airlock, screaming.*

Noir: "Hey! Let me in! Damnit, let me in! I'm here to protect you!"

OOC: Man, has Trans been waiting for you to return! :D

:wink: Sorry. Rping takes a lot of time, which is in short supply for a journalism student :(

Lynthi slammed her fist down on the ISA reception desk.

"Listen to me! I have this paper that grants me top-level access! Its signed by the Director himself! LOOK AT IT!" She shoves the paper in the receptionist's face. "Call him! I’m a representative from Nailiak and I have urgent level 10 papers with his name on it!"

The ISA receptionist shook her head. "I’m sorry, nobody, I mean nobody, sees the Director, those are his orders!"

Lynthi screamed in anger. She drew her 9mm Berretta and slammed the end of it against the left side of the receptionist’s head. Her body went limp and fell forward on the table. Her head must have hit the buzz button because the ISA Director Kerrik opened the large doors behind the receptionist's desk and stepped out. He didn’t look too happy to see Lynthi standing there with a 9mm berretta in hand and an unconscious receptionist. She smiled and put her berretta back in its holster then handed Kerrik the paper.

I hope these papers were counterfeited well enough to fool this guy. Else, I’m going to have one helluva time explaining myself to this guy. Why didn’t those fools back at command just put the papers in a briefcase instead of in these pants pockets?

"What the hell is going on out here, and you better have one damn good reason for smacking my aide!" Kerrik demanded, his hand ominously inside his coat. Other doors opened, and Marines were piling into to room as autoguns spun to align.

Lynthi couldn't help but yell. "What is it with you people!? Do you not know what paper is? Or can you simply not read?" She waved the paper around furiously, obviously enraged by the lack of attention to the piece of paper. "Has the lack of trees in this nation cause you all to be brain dead?"

Ignoring the numerous weapons pointed at her and the large amount of soldiers still pouring into the room, she approaches Kerrik and held the paper out in front of his face. "Important issue to you from Nailiak. Blatant disregard of this issue will warrant hostile events from Nailiak. You don’t want that do you?" Her voice was firm and harsh. She did her best to try and hide the fact that she was bluffing. She began tapping her shoes on the floor, impatiently waiting an answer from Kerrik.

Kerrik merely raised an eyebrow as the obviously insane woman yelled and screamed and raved in the lobby. "Have you never heard of tact?" he asked smoothly, his calm tone almost hiding the danger beneath. He took the paper, glanced it over. "The fact that you made it up twenty floors within three hours should prove that you are in fact being taken seriously, but we have more important business than allowing runner-girls to waltz around. How is your hotel, by the way? We sent a gift basket." He leaned against the wall, looking over the papers. His eyes narrowed a little. "Now, enough pretense. Why are you here, really. And... I would highly recommend honesty."

He nodded pointedly at the amount of weaponry in the room.

Kerrik merely raised an eyebrow as the obviously insane woman yelled and screamed and raved in the lobby. "Have you never heard of tact?" he asked smoothly, his calm tone almost hiding the danger beneath. He took the paper, glanced it over. "The fact that you made it up twenty floors within three hours should prove that you are in fact being taken seriously, but we have more important business than allowing runner-girls to waltz around. How is your hotel, by the way? We sent a gift basket." He leaned against the wall, looking over the papers. His eyes narrowed a little. "Now, enough pretense. Why are you here, really. And... I would highly recommend honesty."

He nodded pointedly at the amount of weaponry in the room.

Dekker silently approached the dealer, but stepped on some broken glass. The buyer took off like a shot, but the dealer remained. It was only when Dekker broke into a run in his direction did he move. Dekker could move when he had to. A former Navy SEAL who kept himself in incredible shape, Dekker easily caught up to the skinny dealer. Dekker's left hand shot out, clamping onto his shoulder. The dealer spun, aiming a quick punch at Dekker's face. Dekker caught the man's arm in mid-punch, twisting it under his own and pulling the dealer in for a headbutt to the nose. Dazed, the dealer staggered, but Dekker's grip held firm. He slung the man into a small sidealley, blocking the only exit with his large frame. Dekker let the sunlight glimmer off of the now-open blade of his SWAT knife, the black steel giving the half-serrated blade a wicked look.

"I was just gonna ask you a few questions, but you decided to be a little bitch and take off. Now I ask my questions, and your ass gets turned in to the nearest police station. Fuck with me again and it'll arrive at the nearest morgue. Am I clear?"

OOC: With your 'R' rating, do I need to censor my language?

((OOC: Merc, language yes. The events that happen here are expected to be rather.. distasteful.

Also.. no time to explain so ill post after I pass my A+ OS cert test))

Her eyes danced over Kerrik's figure. "I never got a fruit basket. Honestly, I’m here for Phaellan." Her eyes narrowed on his needler pistol holstered. "Nasty weapon you got there. I suppose all those big bad soldiers behind me have the same?"

She cleared her throat. "Can we talk in private? My real meaning for being here is not for the publics ears." Their eyes meet for a moment. "Unknown drugs." She looked to her left and to her right. As if the soldiers already crammed into the room weren't enough, they were being lined up outside the room in the hallways. "All this security just for little ol' me? I’m flattered." She shifted her weight to her left leg and folded her arms across her stomach. Her eyes focused on Kerrik again as she awaited his answer.

“Alright, come with me,” said Colonel Fires

He led agent Able down the hall to another secure room

“Here are the glasses, there’s a cam on the right temple, and a mic in the left temple, pressing down on the nose pads turns it on and off.” He handed the item over

“Remember, just get in and out, we’ll have G-Unit pick you up, and if things go bad, just get to the deck and signal us, We’ve got a chopper in the air already. Please try to night kill anyone while you’re in there, when we raid we want to capture as much Intel as possible” added Fires

He then led him to the parking garage

“Here, take this Intel car here, I know it doesn’t look like much, but it’s made to look that way.” He pointed to the beat up 1990 Caviler.” He tossed Able the keys “Oh and, here’s a map, its easy enough to get there. Just get on I-89 to the 61st exit, then its just south on Napa Blvd, and then follow the sings to slip 18, best of luck to you, and remember, if things go bad, don’t worry, we’ll get you out”

As the agent drive out of the garage, Fires made the sing of the cross

God be with you son he thought

OOC :no one is Rping the drug lords, so you got free reign to make them act appropriately, you know what to do ;)

Kerrik glanced at her, bemused. "Of course. Just please, leave your weapons here at the desk." He watched her drop the pistol. "All of your weapons." he sighed. "Do you people think it's cute to carry around armories? I'll never get Operatives... and, I'll mail the bill to your commander for my aide's medical expenses and workers comp." he stepped into the office and dropped into his Corinthian leather chair, behind his solid oak desk. There are some perks to having rank. He saw the city outside his armored window. But they aren't worth it.

The disarmed agent entered the room, and with a subtle touch on a hidden keypad, the double doors bolted. "Now. What do you know, and why are you here." He leaned back. Why did I get up today?



Meanwhile, In Isis Vector Labs
Phaellan heard her cry from outside the door. "Bullshit. After what I've seen today, I don't buy it! My men will bring you in if you surrender." He watched the carnage the Vipers unleashed through his cameras. But it was movement on another camera that caught his eye, movement well within the cavernous facility. "What the..." he watched the people milling, staggering, behaving as delusional as in the Transnapastain videos. He flicked over to Trask's frequency. "We've got survivors in here!"

"I know! We've got one, but he's pretty bad-" Trask yelled back over the roar of the flamethrower.

"I can see." Phaellan watched two of the survivors tear each other to shreds. "I wonder if they can see this topside? They'll think we've all gotten contam-" he was cut off by an explosion and crash, followed by tearing metal. "Trask, what the hell is go-"

"Someone just blew the elevator up top! We're trapped down here!"

"Shit."

Able finally arrived at slip 18 after what seemed like an intermitible amount of time.

"You'd think that they would have at least put in a cd player." Able muttered as he slammed the rusted door to the cavalier. The door didn't close all the way, and the agent left it like that.

Able waited in the pale moonlight for the drug lords to arrive. They said that they would arrive at 10 p.m. It was a quarter past already.

Soon, Able could hear the sounds of an outboard coming closer to the pier.

"Hey, are you Jim? Jim Atkins?"

"Yes?"

Able heard, rather than saw, a gun being cocked.

"Get in..."

Able put on the rayban sunglasses given to him by Transnapastain intel. He turned on the mic and the camera and got into the boat.


************
When he had finally made it to the luxery yacht, Able was immediately escorted to the galley.

"Ahhh, Mr. Atkins. I'm glad that you were able to make it."

ABle was more glad that the intel had successfully set up his identity with the Drug lords. It was a "borrowed one" from an old aquaintence of the drug lords who died in a police raid two years prior.

"Yeah, and you guys were late. I almost left, with the $25 million."

Able knew he was risking a lot playing the tough card. All around the three massive, garishly dressed men were 5 armed guards.

"So tell me, you guys Cuban? Canadian? What?"

"Uh uh, Mr. Atkins. We never agreed to tell you anything. We're here for a transaction, so let us complete our work, and go our ways."

"Show us the money."

Able turned to the man who spoke. He sat on the first ones left. HE was dark skinned, and sweat dripped off of his forehead. Able took his photo as well.

"Sure, no problem."

Able flipped open the briefcase and showed the gentlemen the money, all of it in Transnapastain currency. One of the guards made a grab for it, but Ale snapped it shut.

"Lets see the drugs."

The third drug lord took out a smilar briefcase and opened it. Inside in trays lay 20 vials of the drug... blade.

"Where did you guys get this stuff," Able asked as he took the photo.

The first man laughed. "Now lets just say that we have the connections. Now the money!"

Able handed over themoney in exchange for the drugs.

"Well, I guess I'll be on my way."

Able turned around and started to walk out of the galley when the drug lord's massive voice stopped him.

"Before you go, Mr. Atkins, tell me, how are things back in Holland?"

Able's mind raced. Holland, what was the man talking about?

"Why, things are fine, thank you for asking."

Able continued waling until he heard the sound of a gun being cocked. Again.

"That's excellent. Except for one fact. THE real Mr. Atkins had never set foot in Holland in his life..."

Before the drug lord could finish, ABle darted for the door and crashed through.

Bullets and shouts followed close behind him. He had no time to call for backup...

It was all he could do to dive into the sea without losing the Blade briefcase...

*Noir shook her head, smirking. If only the fool knew. The rest of the team were slaughtered by the Vipers, they were no match for the superior armed and armored soldiers. Shaking her head, hunched over, her face staring at the ground. She's been in worse situations. Behind her, she could hear the soldiers approaching. She held out her suited hand, dropping the 9mm to the ground.*

Noir: "I know when I'm over my head. Heh heh, guess those other guys don't know defeat when they see it, eh?"

*She said with a half hearted grin, her back still to Trask and company, helmeted head resting on the airlock.*

Trask approached slowly, kicking the gun away. Next to him, Duffy loaded the Pancor. Trask frisked Noir. "Nothing funny." he stated through his respirator. Behind him, there were three dead Vipers and an entire squad of the Conspirators, two of which had killed themselves rather than be captured.

*Noir smirks as one of the soldiers frisks her.*

Noir: "Same to you, guy."

*Besides the silenced Glock she dropped, she had another one on her hip, and in a pouch resting on her stomach were four normal looking cell phones, a digital camera, some generic brand chewing gum, flashbang, hand held rebreather, and a pack of cigerettes complete with a Bic lighter.*

Noir: "Those are my favorite brand of cigerettes, cost me five bucks a pack, so be gentle."

*And lastly, attached to her boot was a throwing knife. She seemed calm for someone in her situation, like she's been through this kinda thing before many times.*

Noir: "Ya done there, big boy?"

"Shaddup." Trask stated, cuffing her across the back of the head. Not hard, just an establishment of control. He let her go as Phaellan opened the door. A howl sounded in the depths, and Trask shoved her through the door. "Fold it up!" the squad followed, and Phaellan resealed the door.

Inside, Phaellan was waiting. "Good job, LT." He turned to Noir. "Now, since you didn't blow your head off like the rest of them, I'm guessing your angle is different. Who sent you, why are you here, and what is this shit?" he pointed to the monitors showing the carnage in the Labs.

*Noir looked innocently at the monitor, rocking back and forth on her heels.*

Noir: "Looks like a scene out of a cheesy zombie horror flick if you ask me. Ah yes, the usual line. Who sent you, why are you here, yadda yadda. Name's Noir."

*She extended a hand of greeting to Pheallan, who declined the offer. She shrugged, didn't seem offended or anything. She continued.*

Noir: "I WAS hired to kill you and take some vial or something off of you, but my client double crossed me. I don't like being double crossed, so I was planning to double cross them before they double crossed me, but then your black ops boys came and killed them all. So in the end, I guess it all works out. Whatever. F*ck, I sure hope Borris is okay. Is it safe to smoke in here?"

"Smoking? I would hope so, since- Damnit, Trask, put that out!" Trask killed the pilot light to his flamethrower. Phaellan turned back to Noir. "Now, I believe I caught most of that string. What do you know about this stuff?" he pointed to the vial of blade.

Trask was in the corner, checking on the tech with some lab equipment while other HK Members held him down. "Hey, boss, check this guy out!"

*Noir shurgged.*

Noir: "I'm just a merc, all I know is that my client wanted it, was willing to pay eight hundred million for it. Ah man, f*ck me. I only got the first one hundren million, that means the rest is all gone. Damn. Hey, could you spot me a couple hundred million, I got bills to pay too, ya know?"

*She turned around as Trask called out for Pheallan's attention about the techguy. Noir took a quick peek, but didn't move from her position.*

Noir: "He a friend of yours?"

"Sir!" the Intel tech shouted "Our agent Able is in trouble!"

"What!?" called Colonel Fires

"Looks like shooting out near the yacht, the cam on the glasses showed him running, and he’s in the water, I got a spysat coming into range”

The main view screen in the situation room changed to a live feed from the satellite in orbit. It showed the yacht, and a motor launch in the water, moving.

“The feed is lagging by 15 seconds sir!” noted the tech

There were searchlights sweeping across the water

“Switch to infared” said Fires

Sure enough, there barley visible in the water, was a human form floating away from the boat

“Get the chopper out there, and pick him up, send two F-41’s to cover it, but try not to sink the damn boat!” said Fires

::Over the Transnapa Ocean::

“This is Bravo 1, fighter cap on station?” asked the chopper pilot

“This is Firelight lead, Firelight wing pair on station,” said the commander of the fighters above the chopper

“Okay, go to IR,” said the pilot

“Got it,” replied his co-pilot “Searching…. looking…got him, there,” called the co-pilot

The chopper circled in low over the water, preparing to pick up the agent, suddenly it went evasive as small arms from a nearby search ship opened up on it.

“IR shows it to be about PT boat sized, get a light on it!” the co-pilot swiveled the searchlight around onto the incoming PT boat, it was black against the night time water, unmarked, but defiantly military surplus. The chopper circled out away from it

“Firelights, light that boat up!” called the pilot

“Roger target acquired” said Firelight lead

The fighters swooped in low, as they came straight in at the boat, the IR scanner on the chopper picked up a bright flash from the boat about he same time as Firelight two missile lock indicator went off

“Warning, missile in the air, looks like it was fired from an SA-17 said Bravo 1

“This is two, I got lock, im painted” said 2 at the same time

“Evade two! get outta there!” called Firelight lead

He never had a chance; even as the banked up and away the missile followed him into the turn and hit the underside of his plane, he illuminated the IR scanners and night sky as his fuel tanks erupted into a white hot blossom of flame, and he began a spiral towards the ocean, he smashed into the water, sending a splash high into the air, the fuel mixing with the water and sending it up in flames. Firelight one came in high, banking back and fourth, and let fly with two missiles, the missiles slammed into he PT boat, sending the people on deck pin wheeling into the ocean.

“Target downed,” he said

“Get someone out there to recover bodies and survivors, if there are any” said Bravo 1

He circled back into pick up the agent, came in low, dropped the trooper on a repealing line, and he trooper grabbed Able and the briefcase

In the distance coast guard helicopters were incoming for the bodies, with another flight of F-41’s in the distance,

“Sink that damn yacht,” said Firelight

“Negative, negative, the yacht has entered international waters.” Said Bravo 1

“Damn International Waters to hell, im going!”

“Firelight 1, this is General Kelley, get your self back to base, do not engage that yacht, OIS orders, stand down”

“Yes ma’am” grumbled Firelight one as he began a slow circle back towards the mainland

The choppers were recovering the bodies, and a salvage ship was collecting the debris of the ruined PT boat

“Someone is going to pay,” said Firelight one, as he streaked back towards base “Someone is going to pay big!”

Able dreamt...

He dreamt he was a little boy, being taken out by his father to the shooting range at the DEO headqarters in Alexandria. His father was an agent, and was one of the best.

In the dream, Able was shooting at targets set up by his father. He was holding onto a simple bb gun, but for the boy, it was enough.

Suddenly a dark shadow undercut the happy family. In a flash, Able's father was gunned down in a bloody hail of bullets...

Thats when he woke up.

"NOOOOOOOOO!"

A nurse sitting at the agents bedside immediately bolted to the hospital's intercom.

"General, he's awake. Please come at once."

The nurse then went to go comfort the panting Able.

General Davis and Colonel Fires were sitting in Davis’s office reviewing the feeds from the spyglasses.

“We got enough, I think, to mount an operation.” Said Fires. Pointing to the pictures of the drugs and then money.

“Who are the two men?” Asked Davis

“Uhh, OFI (office of Foreign intelligence) database says the man, the leader, obviously, is one Miguel Ramirez, a small time dealer, and the man on his left, with the money, is one Juan Fredrick, Miguel’s established chief of operations and brother, name changed.” Said Fires, reading form the fact sheet he’d gotten from OFI

“You said small time? Whose his boss?” asked Davis

“We have NO idea, sir,” admitted Fires

“What about the PT boat?” asked Davis, “Didn’t see that coming?”

“No sir, like I said, small time, he shouldn’t have been able to procure anything like that boat, or the weapons we found in the water. The bodies told us very little, but they weren’t Hispanic, so we’re ruling the drug lords out. We ruling out Merc because of the lack of ID, and the one survivor we did have, while exiting the chopper, jumped and decapitated himself…we didn’t learn a thing form him, except that he wasn’t with the drug cartel, because when we asked that question he just smiled and laughed, and said “Im not one of those scum, and that’s all you’ll get from me.” Concluded Fires

A beep came from the intercom

“Sirs, the patient has woken up…. he’s pretty bad, some kind of nightmare” said the aide

“We’re on our way,” said General Davis

They both walked to the infirmary to find the nurse trying to confront a very shaken and pale Agent Able.

“Good work out there son, you did the best you could do, damn sorry about the dip though” said General Davis “We’re going back to that boat, and we’re going to arrest those men, and bring them to justice, you’re welcome to come if you want, We’re sending the G-Unit, and they could always use another squad leader”

bump

bmup

The dealer told Dekker about something new called 'blade' on the streets, which had effects similar to PCP blended with some methamphetamine, minus some of the more unpleasant side effects. On the dealer's recommendation, Dekker was now walking to make contact with one of the more powerful drug kingpins in the area, after leaving his rather uncooperative source of information at the local PD HQ...

OOC: Merc Which country are you in

]

up for the night

Phaellan glanced over at Trask, with the tech strapped onto the bench, analysis gear on his chest and head. "How did he survive?" Phaellan asked.

"Dunno." Trask tossed the atropine cannister to the Sub-Director. "Said he used something called "Direv Nine". Guess that saved him, and the others... but they're schizo!"

Phaellan turned white. "It's "Deriv Nine", not "Direv", and it shouldn't exist!"

"What?" Trask asked. "What the hell is it?"

"Derivation Nine, Universal Serum." Phaellan sat back on his desk. "Originally intended to by a universal cure and vaccine, it was co-opted onto some black project about ten years ago. I hadn't heard of it since about seven years ago..."

"Failed, right?"

"No, it worked." Phaellan laughed a little. "Worked too damn well, in fact. The basic premise was that the Serum would, once injected, attain a perfect chemical balance in the body. In effect, it would find equillibrium, and then mold itself to that state. It would block all other interactions other than what was happening at the moment, preventing nerve exchanges, preventing cell replication beyond what was happening..." he shrugged, "You can see where this went bad. It killed the test subjects every time. They couldn't reproduce cells. If cut, they bled to death, not clotting because of "equilibrium". If not, they eventually just wasted away from lack of reproduction and replication. And, if you took them off Direv Nine, the shock would kill them. It was more lethal than what it cured."

"Then how is he-"

"It must have preserved him between the phases of this Blade. Somehow, it threw a wrench into the gears."

"That's horrible, sir. He's stuck in this dimentia."

"Not even death comes soon, now." Phaellan shook his head. "They must have broken into the vaults to get to the serum as the Blade spread. That explains the lethal cocktail in the air. They must have released everything to get to the Direv. And now, we have roving bands of dying, psychotic people marauding this damn sector, and we're locked in."

"We can't just outlast them, either. We need food, water, and fresh air. They're already dead." Trask looked at the tech's readings. "Jesus Christ! He's in REM sleep!"

"Nightmares that live." Phaellan stated. "Whatever this blade does, it obviously affects the subconcious. That explains the psychosis." He watched the computer print out the data. "Now, why would someone want this to information to die? Why would they not want us to discover what this is?"

"No clue, sir."

Phaellan sat back. "The more I learn, the more I worry. I think the answer we seek may not be what we want to hear."

"Sir?"

The computer beeped, and the results displayed. Phaellan's face turned white, his deepest fears realized, "No." Everyone turned to face the screen.

Project Mind Blade
Agent Beta
Project Closed, 3-7-2019
Director Iams

MOST SECRET

Phaellan turned away. "We did it."

::meanwhile, in Transnapastain::

Captain Jews awoke with a start.

Ring Ring

What’s that! he grabbed for his pistol


Ring Ring

“oh damnit….” He mumbled as the rolled out of bed, it was his phone. wait a sec…im on duty, I don’t have my cell phone…that means….oh crap he thought as he realized that it was his units command radio. HQ would only contact him on his CR if it was of vital importance.

“Yes?” he spoke into the receiver

“You are to abandon surveillance of the docks, we have the information we need, return to point alpha-1, new orders await you and you’re team, confirm” said the operator

“Confirmed, mission end and return to alpha-1” said Jews

click

Jews ran into the hall of the hotel he was staying in and knocked on the dorr of his 2nd in command, John.

“What the hell do you want at 3:30am?! Cap?” he yawned as he asked

“Get the men together, we’re departing, be at the van, packed and ready by 0600.” Said Jews

“Sir!” he said

Captain Jews walked into the parking lot where his teams van was parked. He looked at the 10 men and women assembled around the van, there gear packed into their duffel bags, to any onlookers, and there weren’t any at 0600, they would look like 10 ordinary people going on a trip, maybe a church youth group, or something.

“You all ready? No one forgot anything did they?” said Jews

“No sir” said John

“Good, load up, I’ll drive” said Jews

“Sir” said John

They climbed into he van and got settled in. Jews started the van, and drove out of the parking garage As they turned onto the street, a solider in the back said

“Hey boss, turn on the radio”

Jews reached down and turned the radio onto TRRS, the only radio station worth listening to, in his opinion. He heard a song he liked, “hanger 18” by Megadeth playing and turned it up. “Hell ya!” he said

They continued on down the highway, until they reached their staging point, Alpha 1. A warehouse near the edge of the “Poor Zone” the warehouse had been converted into a Scorpion staging area by OIS nearly 5 years ago. It contained a cache of weapons, Intel gather equipment, a simple command and control room, and uplink to the military surveillance satellites. The roof was retractable to allow for helicopter landings, though this was very rarely done, as it drew a lot of attention.

Jews turned the car off just as “Twilight Zone” was starting damn, that’s a good song too he thought

The 10 soldiers exited the van and entered the building. They entered the building and were greeted by a major Jews didn’t know.

“You’re team is free to use the faculties here, were on down time until otherwise notified, Captain, id like to speak with you.”

The major led Captain Jews and Lieutenant John into an office

“Colonel Fires is debriefing the agent from the DEO, in Valiant, he and the agent should be along shortly, we think he’s going to be attached to your unit for the mission, but I don’t know, he was the agent your team was covering at the boat, the one we had to extract for the drink. He got us the evidence we need to attack the boat.” Said the Major

“Didn’t we lose a fighter in that FUBAR?” asked John

“Yea, one form Firelight, they’re pissed and petitioning High Command to just firebomb the boat and be done with it, though I don’t think that’s gonna get far, we already know this boat is only a pawn, we need to catch the king in this game if we want to clean this mess up. You’re both dismissed until he colonel arrives, no set start time for what HC is calling “Operation: Blade Perry”

OOC: where the hell are you guys?

*Noir turned to look at the screen too. Blinking a few times.*

Noir: "Project Mind Blade? Interesting. Um... I'm not sure if this is a good times to announce this or not, but seeing as how we're all stuck down here anyways... When me and the team my client hired got here, there was like four people carrying a footlocker of somesort. They left us a few stairways back, going down."

*She shrugged, not sure how useful the info would be.*

Noir: "Damn, after all this is over, I'm definately gonna need me a smoke..."

*She put her hands on her hips.*

up for the night

Jews entered the small gym that had been set up in one of the warehouses storage rooms. A few of his men we’re working out. Across the room was a small break room, where 2 other members sat in close conversation by the television. The rest, he assumed, were across the hall sleeping, or down the hall cleaning up. He saw John across the room using a treadmill.

“Hey, John, how’s it going?” he asked as the approached

“Oh, hey Cap, its going pretty good, I guess they had a whole box of personal messages waiting for us when we got here, You might want to go to talk Saumur, over there, he just heard that his girlfriend, mother and father were killed in the Mylor attack I think Cindy is trying to help him…but, I don’t know if he’s gonna be combat effective for the operation.” Said John, as he turned to glance over at the two soldiers sitting by the television.

Jews nodded and walked over to the break room, and approached the couch. The woman sitting there jumped to her feet and saluted

“Sir!” she said as she snapped to attention.

“Calm down Cindy, we’re off duty.” Said Jews as he smiled at her. Just like him, she was new to the unit, unlike him, she was also new to the military, and didn’t realize that all the pretty little things they taught you in Basic didn’t always apply, she hadn’t yet learned that honorary things like saluting was lax in the Scorpion Units. Highly trained soldiers who were asked to perform dangerous and, often, unethical mission deserved a little more freedom than the average grunt.

“I, uhhh, wanted to….oh godamnit.” Started Jews. He was never any good at this, hence why he had no wife, no kids, and very few real friends. “Buddy, its hell, what happened to Mylor, but we’re gonna kick their asses, the people who would do something like this, to release this kind of drug into the populace, who’d peddle it to school kids, if we ever find out who made this, and where it came from, where gonna get it, hang their hides form the Capital. We can’t allow this kind of shit to do down! And, by god, we wont!” he paused “If you don’t think you can fight tonight, I’ll allow it, but, just take heart in the fact that we’re gonna be striking back at the people who caused Mylor, its not really the druggies fault, it’s the dealers, the growers, and the makers fault, what kind of inhuman monster could EVER release something like this?” He realized he was ranting and stopped. “Uhh, anyways, I’m sorry as hell son. If there, uhh anything I can do…” he said/ damnit, I probably made it worse for the kid, I can preach that patriotic stuff all day, but when it comes to being, what’s than damn word…Sensitive…I just cant do it[

Saumur sniffed, just a little, trying to hide it.

“Sir, I can go on, thanks for trying.” He didn’t really sound like he meant it, but he was trying to be tough.

“Alright son, if you think you can, I’d rather have you stay here and help with co-ordination, then see you die in a firefight because you weren’t all there.” Said John, who had been standing behind Jews the whole time.

“Sirs, really, I can do it, don’t worry about it!” he said, sounding a little more confident this time.

“Alright son, good to know, Well have fun until we leave, oh, is there someone in your family you’d like to talk to? I’ll set you up.” Asked Jews

“Well, yes sir, id like to call my brother, he’s in Transnapa City, he works for the government.” Said Saumur

“Cindy, take him down to the command center, he can use the phones there, and they’ll be scrambled enough so im not too worried about it, Saumur, mention nothing about your mission, or where you are, or anything, you know the drill, if anyone tries to stop you, tell them to come talk to me.” Said Jews

“Thank you, sir!” said Saumur, as he and Cindy left

I hope that helps a little….im going to sleep, then off to get a shower thought Jews as he began to walk off

“Sir, you’re right, we can’t let the people who made and distributed this drug to get away with it.” Said John

“Yes indeed, John, yes indeed.”

OOC: Space feeling, I feel really dumb bumping this thing…where are you guys at?”

bump

((OOC: I'm here, jus' waiting for Kuak to post. ^^;; ))

((oc i been on him for days to post, ill make sure he does this weekend for sure.....))

((oc i been on him for days to post, ill make sure he does this weekend for sure.....))

((OOC: I think he's ignoring me on AIM. V_V *Sniffles.* Maybe he's just having writer's block, you know?))

((naw, hes just playign video games, and he constently forgets to put up an away, hes liek me, if you wanna talk, im devdog01))

OOC: Hey, I wasn't playing ga-

*looks at time*

Jesus Christ! I was playing games until 5?

Post Soon... I promise.

"Footlocker?" Phaellan asked.

Behind him, Trask groaned, muttering, "From what we've seen, I'll give you two guesses what that is."

Phaellan commented back, "I'll take it in one." He turned back to Noir. "Take us to where they split off."

Behind him, Trask was gathering up the Vipers. He cued the camera. There was movement outside. "It's gonna be hot out there." he clicked the pilot light back on, and the thin blue flame lit, promising fiery wrath.

*The brown haired woman nodded.*

Noir: "Yeah, sure I'll take you guys. I'm guessing that thing's a nuke or something, and I'd very much like to live, thank you."

*Noir looked at the flamethrower Trask had.*

Noir: "May I have my weapons and such back 'fore? I would be more useful if I was blasting at whatever's out there rather then hiding behind you."

Trask snorted, "And catch a bullet in the back?" He quickly looked at his Viper armor, then handed her a M9 Beretta. "There. That will work fine on their HAZMAT, but all you'll give us is a bruise." he snorted and worked the door.

Phaellan commented. "They'll go low. They need to get that into the deepest part of the base, to vaporize upwards and guarantee erasing the evidence."

"I thought B9 was the lowest."

"B9 test chambers, a sub-level lower."

Trask opened the door into the flickering redlit hallway. They moved out.

*Noir shook her head as she followed out behind Trask. They didn't trust her. Then again, she wouldn't trust herself either in this situation. She guessed she had about fifteen or sixteen rounds for the Beretta. She sighed, wishing she had her Glock 19s. Those were a gift from a friend, she hoped these guys didn't lose 'em.*

Noir: "We're gonna wanna take the third stairwell down from here, that's where I saw 'em go down."

*She felt slightly jealous, these guys all had cool looking armour, all she had was a thin HAZMAT suit. A single bullet would spell her doom.*

*tagging*

man...Kstan, Vailent........wher ethe hell are you!

Office of Jonathan Davis
OIS Headquarters Building

“We can’t wait any longer,” said General Davis “We have to act now”

He picks up his phone

“Get me Fires”

“Yes sir” there was a click then the phone rang

“Capital Building” said a receptionist

“This is General Davis, get me Colonel Fires, right away!”

“Right away sir!” she said

He was put on hold, the music “High Water Mark”

The slaughter now ensues, the bodies fall like rain
They valiantly pursue, yet doomed to remain
At the double quick they charge
The Canister rips through them
To the mouth of hell they march
Glory the only gain

Im choosing to not to take that as a bad sign…Thought Davis

Finally…”This is Fires.”

“Colonel, you need to move now, we need to take that ship, get out to the meeting point and brief the team, I’ll have choppers inbound to the area, expect the operation to go off somewhere around 11:30 tonight”

“Yes sir, and the Agent from Valiant?” asked Fires

Take him with you, and let him participate in the operation, whatever he thinks he’d be best at.” Said Davis

“Sir” he hung up

bump....i swear this is gonna get continued one day.....

OOC: It's been a long time. RL issues have been put away, and I want to finish this. All you who were involved, please TG me with your status.

Thanks!