NationStates Jolt Archive

Date: 11.22.2196-18:23:09
<MEMORY REPLAY BEGIN>
A tall, muscular man sat in front of a bar, drinking his life away. He was slumped forward slightly, with his grey hair covering his weary eyes. He took his drink and finished it in one gulp, then put the glass down on the table.
"Bartender, one more," he mumbled
"I think you've had enough, son. Any normal person would be lying passed out on the floor by now," replied the bartender, a plump old man.
The man looked up, straight into the eye of the bartender.
"One more," he repeated, "I know my limits better than you do."
The bartender merely sighed and refilled the man's glass. A blast of frigid air entered the room as the door was opened - two men stepped in, both wearing a trenchcoat. The man drinking at the bar shrugged off the chilling wind with his overcoat and continued drinking. The two newcomers took seats besides the man.
"I'll have a Guinness," said the man on the right.
"Get me some whiskey," the one of the left said.
The bartender brought them their beverages, and they began drinking. Finally, one of them spoke.
"Is this how you spend your days now, Colonel <Omitted>?"
The man in the middle didn't seem surprised at all - he merely took another draught before speaking.
"Ex-Colonel."
"I'm Lt. Colonel Jackson, he's simulated Captain Robin." said Jackson.
Jackson stared forward and started reciting something.
"Born in 2156, enlisted at 2173, quickly rose up the ranks during the war. A member of the legendary Screaming Fist brigade which arguably turned the tide of the war. Awarded 3 Crosses of Righteousness, 4 Medals of Redemption, and the title of Saviour. Honorary member of the Templar, retired in 2190."
The three continued drinking for some time, only minding their own beverages.
"How would you feel about entering the service of the Church again, Colonel?"
"I think you already know my answer. I've not only met my obligations to the Church, I've already surpassed them."
"That you have. But this is different - we're putting together a completely new unit. The best of the best of the best. And we want you to lead it."
"Not interested."
At this point, Robin spoke up.
"This is your chance to make things right."
For the first time in the entire conversation, the Colonel tilted his head to face the other man. Robin put down a photograph on the table, then both of the men stood up.
"We'll give you 5 days to make up your mind. And I'm sorry about your family, sir."
Jackson finished his drink, then both of the men left the warmth of the building, and stepped out into the blizzard, leaving the Colonel to contemplate the photograph.
<MEMORY REPLAY END>

OOC: Comments, etc welcomed.

Date: 11.27.2196-18:36:42
<MEMORY REPLAY BEGIN>
The Colonel sat at his usual spot in the bar, drinking his usual beverage. He swirled the vodka around and listened to the ice cubes connect with the glass. The door opened, and two men stepped in. They took their seats besides the Colonel, who didn't even glance at them as they sat down. He already knew who they were.
"Have you decided?"
"Yes."
"And?"
"I'll do it."
"You understand everything is final?" asked Jackson, placing an emphasis on the last word.
"Yes."
Jackson allowed himself a rare smile. Robin got up from his seat, and Jackson followed suit.
"Lets go then."
The Colonel stood up slowly, reached into his overcoat, and pulled out a photograph. He placed it face down on the table before he turned around and left the bar, along with Jackson and Robin. The three walked silently to a black, non-descript car parked half a block away and entered it.
"Welcome to the Church's Ninth Operations Division."
<MEMORY REPLAY END>

11.23.2196-9:07:33
<MEMORY REPLAY BEGIN>
There was a grey metal table screwed to harsh concrete floor where the blood of many had been spilled before. The room was surrounded by glossy, white walls, and from the ceiling hung a lamp, the sole source of light in the room. At the table sat two men, opposite to each other. One was in orange prison overalls, with his feet chained to the chair. His hair was long and greasy, after being neglected for some time, and his face was pale and gaunt, with a stubble of a beard growing. The other was dressed in a military uniform with many medals and decorations on it. A name tag identified him as "Major Patterson" The prisoner sat leaning forward, with an wide, insane grin covering his face. Clearing his throat, "Major Patterson" began.
"Well, lets get started, shall we?", Patterson said as he flipped the pages on his clipboard. "<Name Omitted>, also known as the Mindflayer... Suspected and convicted for a string of brutal murders nearly a decade ago, you were sentenced to a lifetime in the "D" prison without possibility of parole..."
"At your service." the Mindflayer said, somehow keeping his smile intact simultaneously.
"How would you like to get out of this place?" Patterson gestured to the walls around him.
"I'd love to. So what's the catch?"
"The Church is creating a new special unit. You'll be released from this... place, and granted the freedom of a normal citizen. In exchange, you'll function as a member of this new unit until your death or until you are unable to perform the duties necessary. This new unit, might I add, is black ops - anything done under its authority is strictly extra-judicial."
"Extra-judicial? Does that mean what I think it does?"
Patterson merely replied with a small smile. He continued, "So, will you take our offer?"
"Of course."
"Alright then - we'll have to go through the paperwork necessary later... Here's a psych test we want you to take - give it back to me the next time we meet."
"You, of course, understand that I am very adept at faking psych tests?"
"We need to make sure that you are mentally fit for duty... So don't fail it."
With this, Patterson got up and exited the room, while armed security guards escorted the prisoner back to his cell. Patterson lit a cigarette and started smoking it. Another man in uniform approached Patterson.
"How did it go?"
"He accepted, just as we thought he would."
"I meant how did it go?"
"He's a scary son of a bitch I wouldn't want to meet anytime, regardless of circumstances. I can't believe the Church is actually going to just let him go after all he did. If I had to bet it on, I'd say he'd bide his time then make us really regret ever recruiting him."
The other man just chuckled.
"Well, you know what they say... The only thing that can destroy a monster is an even greater monster."
<MEMORY REPLAY END>

9.16.2196-9:56:44
<MEMORY REPLAY BEGIN>
A woman laid in a bed with clean hospital sheets. She looked to be aged around her late twenties - perhaps even her early thirties. Perhaps it was her exhuberant purple hair that made her seem younger than she was. Standing around her were three doctors, and one man in a military uniform. The man in the uniform spoke first:
"What's her condition?"
"Stabilized - she should be ok. There are no abnormalities that we can detect, and her brain waves appear within an acceptable range."
"That's good... Can you wake her up now?"
"Yes."
One of the doctors motioned to a nurse, who brought a syringe over. The doctor took it and injected its contents into the woman - within seconds she began stirring, and within a minute she had regained full consciousness. She sat up and twirled her fingers around as though she had found a new toy. The military man spoke again.
"Can you hear me?"
The woman nodded once.
"Good. What is your name?"
"My designation is Facade."
The man fired off a rapid question in Russian, and the woman responded in the same language. The man smiled. He turned around to face the doctors.
"Keep her under observation, and get her started on physical therapy. Let her have access to anything she wants."
"Understood."
<MEMORY REPLAY END>

11.23.2196-3:27:54
<MEMORY REPLAY BEGIN>
A man in his early twenties was in a gym, training - he bore a non-descript, grey sweatshirt. He was well muscled, which was to be expected of a military man. Standing a over six feet tall, he could be very intimidating. He occupied himself, beating up a punching bag with his bare fists, which was larger than him. Each time he hit the bag, it swayed from the impact. Behind him entered another man, who was dressed in casual clothing - a shirt and jeans. He was similarly built, although he seemed a little older. The newcomer spoke.
"Major <Omitted>"
The man who was relentlessly demolishing the punching bag immediately turned around to face the person who was obviously his superior, and gave a salute.
"Yes, sir."
"You have been given an honorable discharged from the military."
"...what?!?"
"You have been requisitioned by the Church... You're to report to this address immediately."
He held out a piece of paper for the other man to take.
"What is it for?"
The man shrugged.
"I have no idea. I just pass on what I'm given. And before you go, I just want to let you know you're one of the best men I've ever had, and you can drop by anytime you want."
"Thank you and goodbye, sir."
The two men saluted each other as they bid farewell.
______________________________________________________
The newly-released man arrived at the building which he had been summoned to. It was quite a large building, and there was a very small amount of people in it for such a edifice. He rode up the elevator to the 9th floor and was met with a largely empty floor. There were a few desks and people in it, but many of the rooms were barren.
He walked up to a woman who seemed like the secretarial type.
"Hello, I'm <Name Omitted> - I believe that Lt. Colonel Jackson requested my presence?"
"Oh, he's in room 904. You're quite young to be here..."
"Uh, I suppose," he muttered, at a loss as to how to respond, "and thank you."
The woman smiled slightly.
"And such a gentleman too - you're welcome."
She waved goodbye at him as she stepped past the slightly embarassed man. As he turned around to watch the woman depart, another man stepped up.
"<Name omitted>, I presume?"
"Yes," he responded, then added "sir."
"Drop the formalities - they're not needed here. I'm Jackson, lets talk about this in my office."
Jackson led the young soldier into his office - a spartan room with two chairs and a desk with a computer monitor on it. The floor was a cold, hard marble.
"Make yourself at home - anything to drink?"
"Water is fine."
Jackson handed him a cup of water, while he enjoyed a glass of tomato juice.
"Well, lets get down to business. The reason you've been discharged and summoned here is because we want you to join us."
"Who is 'us'?"
"'Us' is, so far, the people in this building and a few other field operatives we've recruited so far. You see, we're a new special operations unit created by the Church."
"So, what's so special about this unit?"
"I'm afraid I can't say - everything that goes on here is strictly secret. In fact, should you refuse, we'll put a memory block on you to prevent and leaks."
"In other words, black ops."
"Precisely."
"Why me?"
"Well, you're young and fit, very accomplished, and highly recommended. You have a small family and little ties to other people. You seem like a good candidate."
"What do I get out of this?"
"Are those the words of a man who volunteered for the Marines' special forces?" Jackson responding with a wink, "You'll be contributing to your country, your people, the Church. You'll be keeping your family and friends safe - isn't that enough?"
The man smiled. "You got me there. So what's the catch?"
"Once you're in this unit, you're in for life. You don't even whisper a word of this to non-authorized personnel, and we'll be carefully monitoring you at all times. You'll be on-call at all times, and it'll be very dangerous at times. Your civilian identity will be erased, and you will have extremely limited contact with people outside our organization."
"That's a lot to give up."
"It is - that's why we're not forcing anybody. You'll get perks, benefits - your family will be compensated, you'll have almost everything you can wish for at your disposal."
"I'll have to think about this."
"Well, go home and sleep on it. Think of this as an adventure. Come back when you've decided." Jackson said with a wink.
"Alright, I'll think about it." The man finished his cup before taking his leave. He was back within an hour.
"So fast?" asked Jackson.
"Yes. I've made up my mind, I'll do it."
"Everything is final."
The man hesitated for a brief moment before responding. "I know."
Jackson nodded solemnly.
"Well then, starting now, you're a member of the Church's Ninth Operations Division. Welcome aboard."
<MEMORY REPLAY END>