NationStates Jolt Archive

OOC: This RP will serve as a prequel to a coming story thread, and is mainly for the fun of RPing as well as to introduce some of the major players in the coming story, so it will make a bit more sense to those who read it...

IC:

The world was dark, murky, cold and wet. Water rushed past his fin-ears as he sped beneath the surface of the swamp, grit and silt rimming his eyes, his speed & aquatic curves cutting the water like a razor.

His mission was simple, a quick sneak-and-peek operation on supposed drug smuggling through the swamps north of the village of Raven's Rest. The capitol city of Grayrock was growing at a surprising rate, and drugs presented an extreme threat to the continued industrialization. As an agent in the Argonian Intelligence Service, he was often presented with such missions.
Drug trafficing was considered terroristic in the new nation, and was dealt with in typical counter-terrorist fashion.

He was lightly armed, only a SEAL Pup Elite combat knife and a stainless steel plated IMI Desert Eagle in .357 caliber. As highly mobile as he was during this assignment, even a submachinegun would have slowed him down. Clad in a black wetsuit, matching tactical vest, balaclava and nightvision goggles, he looked the very picture of stealth. Stopping briefly on a sandbar to check his GPS, the agent moved on towards the flashing blip on his screen, moving underneath the water.

Finally he had arrived, slipping up along the bank of of a small island stacked with crates, Special Agent Arakesh Quickclaw slid the knife out of its sheath and under the lip of the crate to pry it open. The nails came up with a slight creak, prompting him to slow his prying to keep the noise down. The lid came open, finally allowing him to peer inside.

The contents where not surprising; small packets of cocaine ready for sale. The darkness concealed him well enough that he could snap photos of the crate's labels and contents before someone crept up on him and placed the cold hardness of a gun barrel against the back of his head...

"Move and die."

Arakesh shifted to the left, getting his head out of the way of the muzzle. The report of the firing nine milimeter was deafening, but it didn't split his skull. Arakesh snapped the elbow of the attacker in one smooth motion, bending the broken joint around to bury the muzzle in the stomach of his attacker, which was oddly a human male, before pulling the trigger twice & letting the man slump down mortally wounded on the slick muddy ground.

There was a chorus of metallic clicking and clacking as weapons where being readied for use. Arakesh drew his .357, adding his metallic click of the safety being flipped off to the slide-racking. He was up and firing in an instant, moving between cocaine-laden crates as he laid down cover fire for himself in the form of a few high-velocity rounds to keep their heads down. The gathered masses where mostly humans, with a few Dark Argonians interspersed amongst them. One caught a .357 in the chest and dropped, growling as his blood began to seep across the marshy earth. Arakesh had what he needed, all he had to do now was escape, bullets from automatic weapons screaming over head.

This was easy, diving into the swampland waters and speeding off towards the opposite end of the swamp where he could find sanctuary at the village of Raven's Rest. Tomorrow he would return to Grayrock and report his findings to his superiors, providing he survived that long. They where bound to come after him at some point or another, if they could trace him back this far...

Arakesh's long swim ended on the banks of the nameless river that ran through the slightly modernized city of Raven's Rest. Dripping with swamp-water, the Special Agent moved quickly away from the rushing waters, attempting to keep as low a profile as possible, which the large automatic and night-vision equipment didn't do much for. The balaclava and goggles came off, doing something to normalize his appearance.

His stay-over was the local Domestic Defense Force (DDF) armory, a mile or so away from the river. Arakesh broke into a light jog, attempting to get within the safety of the chain-link fences as quickly as possible. The fact that that human had snuck up on him so easily had rattled him a bit, as had the loud report of the nine-millimeter next to his ear. The on-duty sentry leveled his USAS-12 automatic shotgun in Arakesh's direction as the light on his pillbox caught the stainless finish of Arakesh's Desert Eagle...

"Stop sir... Mind telling me where you're going with such a big pistol?"

Arakesh didn't answer, simply pulling his ID from his vest, slowly to keep from being riddled with 00 buck-shot...

"It might be because I was issued it, my friend..."

The sentry looked over the government ID, taking note of the large 'AIS' printed across the top...

"Intelligence sir? You're the Special Agent Quickclaw we've been expecting..."

He moved towards his pillbox to access the base phone...

"Sergeant Ulas? Agent Quickclaw's arrived, I'm sending him back now..."

The soldier hung up the phone before turning to face Arakesh again...

"Sir, Sergeant Ulas is waiting for you in the lobby, he'll show you to your quarters for the night..."

Arakesh nodded in thanks to the corporal as he walked past. He'd never served in the Argonian Armed Forces, mainly because they'd just been formed in the past two years. His previous training came from serving with the Order of the Silver Claw, a supernatural hunting group for those born under a certain star formation. Since the modernization, the Silver Claw Order, and their covert counterparts, the Order of the Shadowscale, had been merged into the Argonian Intelligence Service. He'd been handling a pistol for some two years now, a huge difference from the katana he'd hunted with throughout his youth...

The well-muscled Argonian behind the plate-glass doors must have been Sergeant Ulas, and the nametag that became visible as Arakesh opended the doors confirmed his assumption...

"Agent Quickclaw, I'm Sergeant Ulas, Fifty-Third Domestic Defense Infantry. Welcome to Raven's Rest Armory. If you'll follow me, we've got a cot set up for you in the armory proper..."

Arakesh followed Ulas through the pristine halls of the newly built armory, barely a year old, to the armory itself. Behind a set of heavy steel blast doors, they passed the quartermaster's window, who buzzed them past a second set of thinner doors. Arakesh's cot was set up next to a full rack of AAR-16 rifles. The AAR-16 was an M16 knock-off designed by Bushmaster to Argonian specifications. The weapon had a sixteen-inch barrel, shortened solid buttstock, flat-top configuration, and select-fire operation. It had become standard issue for the infantry due to its handiness in the close confines of the swamps of Black Marsh, as well as the growing cities.

Civil unrest had been a major issue, and Arakesh contemplated this as he waved a quick goodbye to Ulas before laying down on the stiff cot for a bit of rest. Since the modernization had begun, crime had sprung up in the marshes, mostly anti-modernization (AM) rebels seeking to preserve the 'Old Ways'. Arakesh had been brought up on the 'Old Ways' himself, but from his time abroad hunting for the Silver Claw Order, he'd seen how far behind the Argonian people were in terms of technology, and had begun to fear for the safety of his nation. AM Forces had begun raiding modernizing cities, prompting firefights from the newly-formed Argonian National Army and its sub-branch, the DDF. The rebels bought guns and explosives with money from selling cocaine grown in rich marsh soil and processed in outlying primitive towns, and from Hist sap sales abroad.

Hist sap was a dangerous compound harvested from the Hist tree, producing powerful hallucinogenic effects in non-Argonians. Argonians who ingested the sap in small quantities felt slight euphoric effects, and the modernization had unlocked access to soft-drink and distilled versions of the product. As for foreign sale, however, Hist was forbidden because of the possible negative effects. Humans, however, seemed to enjoy the visions they received from ingesting Hist, much like psychedelic mushrooms and the chemical cocktail 'Acid', but much easier on the body to use. Still, too many deaths were documented world-wide from Hist-using humans either killing themselves or others because of the things they saw.

It disturbed Arakesh greatly that the rebels would sink so low, so desperate to stop the modernization that they would distribute the harmful cocaine to their own people, and the Hist to the rest of the world's population...

His mind a never-stopping swirl of worry and confusion, Arakesh drifted off into a restless doze, still clad in his damp wetsuit. His Desert Eagle sat on his chest, on the mostly-dry tactial vest to keep it away from as much moisture as possible, but still be within easy reach...

OOC: What sort of characters are you looking for, WA?

OOC: If you can find a way to factor yourself in, by all means go ahead. This thing failed horribly a few months back, but since then I've developed a new storyline that should run for a few story RP's, possibly a few open for others to participate in. It's mainly here to keep me busy, entertain whoever reads it, and set up some back-story for the main one I'll be posting at the end of this one. That being said, it's more of a story than an RP, but I'm not going to stop you from posting.

IC:

The light creak of the armory door swinging open yanked Arakesh from his fitful slumber. He was up, pistol in hand, in a few seconds. Slightly groggy, and his eyes rimmed with swamp-silt and black mud, it was hard for him to pick out exact shapes in the dim light of the early twilight. His wristwatch said it was barely five A.M., some two hours before the silent alarm in the watch itself would go off...

Someone was moving towards him, Argonian by the sound of the footsteps...

"Arakesh?"

The voice sounded familiar, and he knew who it was, he just couldn't drag the identity of the speaker from the depths of his sleep-fogged brain..

"I'd identify yourself..."

There was a deep chuckle from behind the weapons racks that blocked his view, a laugh he'd heard before, perhaps a hundred times...

"Teersan Chul. Why'd they send your ugly butt out this far? The cushy missions you've been getting not have enough excitement?"

Arakesh responded in a joking tone. Teersan was a fellow AIS operative, but formerly a Shadowscale, that is, an assassin trained by the Dark Brotherhood, a foreign society of professional killers. Where the Silver Claw was more of a religious order, Shadowscales were trained for two things: Espionage and murder. As the older Argonian stepped from behind the racks, this was plainly observed.

Teersan's face alone had more scar tissue than most of Arakesh's body. The nasty-looking scars that formed an awkward 'X' across the left side of his face made him fairly difficult to confuse with someone else, as well as giving him a no-nonsense appearance. His eyes were cold, lacking any sort of emotion or pity. They were some of the last of their respective orders, new AIS agents were trained by the government, not foreign assassin guilds or multi-national religious orders...

"No. I came simply to escort you home, since the DDF in this armory are currently occupied with an AM skirmisher team on the opposite side of town. The remaining troops have been ordered to hold this location at all costs, and won't be escorting you anywhere. The dealers you ran into last night are onto you, they've apparently got some connections in the AIS. As such, you're no-longer safe here. We leave now..."

Arakesh didn't intend to argue with Teersan. The mud on his boots matched that caked on Arakesh's, which he'd foolishly forgotten to take off before he slept. They squished as he folled Teersan towards the armory's front door. As they exited, they heard gunfire in the distance, the distincive whump-whump-whump of the USAS-12 on full-automatic. The automatic shotgun took very little time to learn how to use accurately, and was devastating in the close quarters of the Marsh. Crossing the one paved road in Raven's Rest, a shot, much closer than the others, rang out. The DDF soldier at the gatehouse pillbox slumped to the ground with a rushing tide of reddish-gray leaking from under his ceramic helmet. Shot in the neck, there was little it would have done for him.

Someone screamed 'Sniper', and everyone dove behind something, leaving Teersan and Arakesh to sprit to the nearest cover, which in this case was a thatched hut. Both had their weapons drawn, Arakesh's oversized Desert Eagle and Teersan's 1911. The AIS was still somewhat strapped for funding, and agents carried what they were issued, there was no industry standard.

A distinctive metallic sound from within the hut brought a slight gleam to Teersan's eyes. Through the narrow view of the scope, the sniper hadn't seen them, a rookie mistake. Drawing his own knife, a hand-crafted dagger made from tempered volcanic glass, Teersan holstered his handgun and silently severed the binding cords on the hut's back wall, opening a passage within through the brushed-aside wooden branches. There was the metallic sound again, the bolt being pulled backwards after a shot was fired. The former Shadowscale crept forward, silent as the grave before he was behind his quarry.

The Anti-Modernization freedom fighter had no idea what hit him, the last thing he felt was a cold sensation in his abdomen, Teersan's knife penetrating the right side of his belly scales before being torn to the left, effectively spilling his innards across the hut's bare dirt floor as the blade split him open. He didn't even have time to scream as Teersan's blade came free of his gut, stabbing next into the side of his throat, severing his vocal cords as well as a major artery as the point went completely through his neck. Again, it was torn loose in a spray of warm red liquid. The operative emerged from the new back door wiping his knife on his already-bloodstained black wetsuit. Arakesh stiffled an urge to puke. While he was no stranger to bloodshed, Teersan's flicking of a piece of intestine off of his tactical vest was a bit excessive...

"He will trouble us no more..."

That icy-cold tone again, that made Arakesh wonder how an individual like that had even gotten into covert operations. Then again, his abilities in the stealth arts were almost un-matched. His Shadow-formation birthsign seemed to give him an unfair edge in the sneaking department. It was like he could not wish to be seen, and seemingly vanish. That unnerving ability was avaliable to all Shadowscales, indeed, it was what made them such desirable assassins and spies. Clearly, Teersan was more interested in the assassination part, messy close-up kills seemed to do something for him.

The pair hurried through the masses of similar huts before exiting the village and heading east to Grayrock, the capitol city. An Argonian National Army two-and-a-half ton truck met them an hour outside of town, making the trip a bit safer as well as faster...

The sounds of gunfire died away against the background noises of the Black Marsh. The road the truck rolled down was an unpaved, muddy, washed-out excuse for something so simple. The vehicle contained four soldiers, two in the cab and two in the rear with the AIS operatives. They remained silent, staring off at the shoddy trail as the truck moved forward, eyes open for any rebel activity. Even by truck, it would take nearly nine hours. Luckily, one of the privates in the truck bed informed them that a helicopter forward refueling base was just a two-hour ride up the road, and that a UH-60 would probably be on-site to take them to the main ANA base in Grayrock.

The remainder of the truck ride was marked by no significant happenings, besides Teersan's near-obsessive cleaning of his prized assassin's dagger. Arakesh's own knife had been purchased off the 'internet', a wonderous electronic arena of information exchange, with his own funding. While a fine weapon in its own right, it paled in comparison to the old-world craftsmanship of his partner's blade. Volcanic glass was simply too hard to mass-produce weapons out of, much less aquire in any great amount.

The slight urge for his body to move towards the front of the vehicle signaled a stop, which was within the perimeter of the chopper fuel point. The two operatives disembarked, climbing aboard a UH-60 outfitted as a support gunship for the ride to Grayrock. The pilot threw them each a kevlar helmet, which they strapped to their heads in short order. Six more troops joined them, two appearing to be crew-chiefs as they manned the Vulcan guns mounted on the doors.

Arakesh believed that this trip would get interesting, shooting a glance at Teersan as they lifted off. It had barely been five minutes before one of the gunners opened up with his weapon, an ear-shattering screech of flying lead and falling brass. They passed over a clearing, the site of a skirmish between ANA forces and some rebel troublemakers. .308 rounds threw dirt in tiny puffs as they raked across the rebel lines, the gunner criss-crossing for maximum effect as the craft soared overhead. Two of the soldiers even joined in, firing their rifles in the general direction the gunner was firing. That particular incident went over fairly well.

The next would be much different...

The UH-60 was flying low, lower than Arakesh liked. While the near-constant hum of the Vulcan cannons put his mind at ease somewhat, they also deafened him to the fire from the ground. The holes suddenly appearing in the floor of the craft disturbed him, more so after it registered that they were being caused by bullets tearing through the thin skin of the chopper...

"Hold on!"

The pilot seemed less than happy about their condition, his voice was riddled with concern, much like his vehicle was riddled with bullets. The right Vulcan gun swept to the right, just as another fleeting burst from the ground-mounted weapon nearly cut the gunner in half. The unfortunate warrant officer simply buckled under the wounds and tumbled from his gunner's position, held in place by the cordura straps that kept him in the UH-60 during sharp turns...

"Someone get on that god-damned gun!"

Arakesh jumped up from his seat, he was the closest. He'd never fired a Vulcan cannon before, but there was a first time for everything. He just wished it wasn't an on-the-job-training deal. His clawed thumbs depressed the firing lever, as opposed to the trigger on his sidearm. A stream of hot lead exploded from the six barrels, raking the treetops with surpressive fire. A bullet clipped his helmet, knocking his head around a bit, but otherwise doing no damage.

It was quite an energizing expeirence, death missing him by a mere inch of kevlar and a margin of luck, while blasting back with a vengeance. Arakesh's hands remained glued to the grips long after they'd flown over the danger zone, barrels releasing heat in hazy waves against the green backdrop of the marsh trees below.

Grayrock was a welcome sight after Arakesh's foray into the hinderlands hunting for drug smugglers. Both he and Teersan caught an ANA humvee to the central government building where the AIS was centralized. Their distinctive clothing granted them instant passage through the numerous security checks that visitors were subject to.

Their commanding officer met them in one of the many briefing rooms, Director Tavi Valus. Valus was a former Shadowscale, like Teersan, but much less violent-minded. He lacked the scar tissue Teersan had collected over the years, probably owing to his stealth preferences. His belt also contained a similar volcanic glass dagger, but Valus didn't wear the wetsuit like his field operatives.

Instead, he was clad in a set of black fatigues, with a Glock 17 holstered on his left hip. The jacket had been removed in favor of freedom of movement in the office setting he was confined to, but was the standard wear for non-aquatic AIS operations. In its place was the black t-shirt that was worn under the jacket. GSG-9 combat boots completed his tactical look...

"Agent Quickclaw, Agent Chul..."

The director motioned towards the generic office-furniture table that filled the center of the room, ending in a projector screen. Both agents seated themselves across from their commanding officer...

"Your report..."

Arakesh spoke up first, as he'd been the field operative on this assignment...

"Sir, my recon of the southern swamps revealed massive cocaine transportation operations, using anything from brushplanes to crude rafts. Worse yet, there are humans involved, and lots of expensive firepower..."

The memory of the costly nine-millimeter that had gone off scarcely an inch from his head surfaced again, with the throbbing that had come with it...

"Agent Chul and myself also encountered heavy firepower en route to this location, from AM rebels. They must have used the drug money to buy bigger guns..."

Director Valus folded his clawed hands in concern, this was indeed troubling news. With only four operatives at his disposal, and ten operatives in training, his resources were limited. They could barely afford weapons for all of them as it was, much less anything in any form of standardized issue. His Glock was reliable, functional when wet, and even fired under water. The accuracy was acceptable as well. If they could afford the price tag, he might just standardize the smaller model 19 as the official sidearm, with a few modifications. It would beat that massive hog-leg Arakesh carried, a stainless-steel beast with a bark to match its impressive bite...

The Director's brown eyes blinked sharply at the mention of bigger guns...

"How big are we talking?"

Arakesh's eyes narrowed, knowing he'd be telling his commander something he'd never believe...

"Big enough to nearly bring down a UH-60. Teersan can vouch for that..."

Valus looked towards the former Shadowscale sitting across from him...

"This is true? I'm guessing something like an RPD?"

Teersan nodded slowly, anticipating another covert operation into the swamps to seek and destroy such weapon caches...

"Arakesh speaks truly, sir... The vehicle in question lost one of its gunners in the process..."

Two Argonian soldiers had died in their presence during their return trip, and while unfortunate, it was a very small view of the carnage that raged in the swamps daily.

Director Valus weighed his options carefully, his other operatives were overdue to report back in, which worried him. In fact, Arakesh and Teersan were all he had contact with at the moment...

"Teersan, I want you to head back into the swamps, and do what you do best. Seek and destroy, the works. Grab what you need from the basement armory, when you return there will be a hummer waiting to take you to the ANA base, then hop a chopper back towards Raven's Rest..."

Teersan rose from his seat, nodding slowly to signal that he'd understood the command...

"Consider it done..."

Valus angled his head towards Arakesh...

"As for you, good work on the intel. You're needed elsewhere, however. The village of Keyton's Crossing has had some major issues with rebel drug activity lately. By the time you arrive, the DDF armory will be expecting you, and will assign you a squad or two to use in hunting down the smugglers. A hummer will meet you tomorrow outside, for now, go grab some rest..."

Teersan emerged from the AIS headquarters carrying an M24 sniper system and a box of various explosives he'd selected from the basement stockpile. His sniper system choice would be excellent for ambushes, while the explosives would come in handy for setting traps. The assortment included landmines, plastic compounds, grenades, and a pair of wireless electronic detonators...

Arakesh's quarters were on-site in the AIS HQ, a simple apartment-style living space that afforded him a degree of privacy. Deciding he was well-overdue for a shower, he shucked out of the wet-suit and ran himself a good hot shower. The dirt and swamp-grime he'd collected had stained his scales a mottled color, quite different from their usual green, which began to show through the harder he scrubbed.

His shower finished, Arakesh located a pair of physical training shorts before lying on his spartan single bed for a bit of a nap. The oversized handgun rested in its shoulder holster, slung over the headboard, within easy reach.

His restless sleep was filled with unpleasant dreams, a combination of the day's events and tramatic expeirences from the past, all thrown together in a messy conglomeration of fear, pain, and uncertainty...

A muffled boom tore Arakesh from his turbulent slumber, the by-product of a detonated car bomb out front of the AIS headquarters building. Still clad in only his shorts, he made for the elevator with his oversized pistol in hand. Valus was already ahead of him, bracing the door open with his arm to allow Arakesh to enter before they dropped to ground level.

Both anticipated that the lobby area would be a mess, and mentally braced themselves for sights of bodies torn apart by the explosion. No amount of mental bracing, however, could prepare them for the second explosion, detonated by a suicide bomber, at the lobby elevator door. The elevator shuddered violently under the blast, before a sharp ping sounded above their heads, the elevator cable beginning to fray...

"We need to get out of here, open the roof hatch..."

Director Valus was doing his best to keep his tone as calm as possible, in the face of a six-story drop to their deaths. Arakesh did as he was directed, gracefully sliding up over the edge of the hatch, followed shortly by Valus...

"Now make for the access ladder. We'll climb to the..."

Valus was interrupted by another ping, which turned his speech into a gargle as the snapping steel cable slashed his throat. Valus motioned for Arakesh to continue up the ladder as he clutched at his throat. The field operative climbed upwards as the director stumbled and fell back into the elevator. Shortly afterwards, the cable broke and sent the car into a four-story free-fall that ended horribly. Arakesh hoped in the back of his mind that Valus had bled to death before the impact.

In a few minutes, he was back at the same level as his quarters, where he donned his field gear, the black fatigues, ballistic vest, and night-vision equipment he'd need for his Marshland excursion. Even with the director down and out, he still had an assignment to complete. Fully equipped, he again clung to the access ladder in the elevator shaft, sliding down it at great speed before slowing his descent as the smashed elevator car came into view and the chatter of automatic gunfire reached his ears. The lobby doors were mostly gone, allowing him to access the lobby easily. Within the burning ruins of the reception desk and decor, National Police officers and AIS security personnel had engaged rebel forces outside the building.

Passing a security officer, the black-garbed male handed Arakesh an MP5A2, spattered with blood...

"We could use your help sir, they're hitting us pretty hard with RPG's from across the street..."

The AIS headquarters was situated in downtown Gray rock, facing a four-lane paved road, although there were few automobiles in the Marsh in civilian hands. Across the road stood a large concrete parking structure between two residential apartment buildings. Behind the AIS HQ was the capitol building, presidential house, and the departmental complex. In short, the rebels were attacking the very heart of the new government, but fortunately the presidential house and capitol building were surrounded by the other government buildings as a sort of buffer against this sort of thing.

As Arakesh and the security officer, his uniform's ID tag said 'TAYLON', discussed the situation, a rocket-propelled grenade sailed across the street and impacted a black SUV parked outside the building, sending several governmental security personnel flying in random directions and in various stages of injury. Arakesh used this momentary distraction to rush out the main doors and down to the statue in front of the building, which stood in front of a flight of stone stairs that spanned the entire width of the building. Officer Taylon followed, his own MP5 held low.

The rocket seemed to have come from the parking garage, a likely place as it completely shielded the insurgents from the small-caliber rounds of the SMG's and handguns of the governmental defenders. The pair entered the garage on the ground level, moving towards the elevator. It would take them to the second-highest level, a likely location in Arakesh's thinking, since the upper-most floor was exposed to everything that could be launched from the air, or grenades launched from across the street, while maintaining an elevation advantage.

Sure enough, Arakesh's reckoning was correct, and across from the elevator was a rebel RPG team. Both operatives crept closer, staying behind opposite concrete columns until they were close, and Arakesh gave the signal. Both spun from their positions behind the columns and sprayed the four insurgents with automatic fire. One managed to turn and let off a rocket, which screamed past Taylon's head to impact with the elevator, sending a firey column down the shaft and out into the street.

Taylon shot the body of the firer again with a second, shorter burst for good measure while Arakesh kicked the RPG launcher out of reach, followed with the other weapons dropped by the dead insurgents...

Taylon informed the others across the street that everything should be all-clear, while Arakesh removed the magazine from his MP5 and attempted to look down it to count the rounds. He estimated that he had more than five left, but how many more was still a mystery. The only way to be sure was to literally push each round out of the magazine to take note of it. That, however, would be too time-consuming.

He really didn't care, he'd pick up a USAS-12 or an AAR-16 at the DDF armory when he arrived. Arakesh turned back to his temporary partner...

"You mind if I borrow this?"

He held up the MP5 with one hand, seeking Taylon's approval...

"Sure... The owner won't be needing it..."

Arakesh nodded, then made his way back to the street, leaving Officer Taylon to take care of the mess. The HMMWV wouldn't be arriving, he was sure of that, but oddly, it was out front waiting on him...

"You Special Agent Arakesh? We've got orders to get you out towards Keyton's Crossing ASAP..."

The AIS operative nodded, climbing into the Hummer behind the gunner. The trip would take a while, even once he boarded the UH-60...

The airbase he'd depart from was located outside Grayrock, little more than a pair of packed-dirt squares for the choppers and fuel tanks surrounded by Constantina wire. The airbase proper, as well as the main base itself, was still under construction. The walls, which would be made from steel-reinforced concrete, were just about complete. His ride was already waiting for him, rotors whumping away.

Still clutching the MP5 in a low-ready position, Arakesh climbed aboard the craft. Keyton's Crossing was located near the southern-most border of the Black Marsh, while Grayrock was more centrally located. It would be a six-hour ride, and darkness was already beginning to creep across the land. Arakesh's mind prepared itself for a night-time operation. That was good, however. The rebels didn't have the high-tech night-vision equipment.

The operative leaned back in the seat a bit, settling in for a bit of nap during his ride, his previous rest interrupted by the commotion back at headquarters...

Teersan hadn't reported in for some time, his report time had been sometime around the time that Arakesh arrived at his destination.

That was two hours ago. Arakesh now stood clutching one of the AAR-16's, in front of a group of Argonian National Army soldiers. The one with the green beret stood out the most, since he was the only one wearing one, as well as an eyepatch. His uniform tag read 'KERRICH', which prompted something in the back of Arakesh's mind.

Keyton's Crossing...

Guy named Kerrich...

Holy shit...

That had to be Keyton Kerrich, one of the founders of the first Special Forces Group. He'd heard about an Assault Infantry solider who lost an eye but wiped out an entire platoon-sized element of insurgents with little more than his rifle and a knife. Medics had found him sometime later nearly dead from blood loss and a few other wounds outside the forward base...

"Sergeant Kerrich? Your men ready?"

While Kerrich was the only SF soldier on-site, the others were Assault Infantry, elite shock troops that had already earned the respect of the insurgents...

"Yes, sir..."

Kerrich didn't say much. It didn't look like he ever would...

"Excellent. Let's move..."

The group headed off into the jungles, Arakesh on point with his under-powered rifle held at a high-ready position. The others, Kerrich included, carried shortened M1A rifles that chambered a much larger .308 round as opposed to Arakesh's tiny .223 weapon...