NationStates Jolt Archive

Project: Red Haze.

The worst scientific disaster of Automagfreek's history. Creatures led by an insane woman that were so unstable that they were a threat of life itself, and only by the good graces of the Gods themselves were they cast back into the abyss. Even the most elite soldiers of Automagfreek, the few and slightly genetically modified Sentinel Stalkers were no match for them. Why anyone would want to page back to that blood soaked chapter in AMF history is beyond any man's comprehension.

Rumor came from the south that rogue scientists had been experimenting illegally under the nose of Lord Dreadfire, conducting foul experiments and digging deep into the occult. Such things had been ruled forbidden since the fall of Rayne, but it seemed that a few disloyal renegades had thought otherwise. For months Damien ordered their facilities monitored, but those inside were not blind to such actions. Deep under the ground they built secret facilities to house their vile experiments, far away from the ever watchful eyes of The Destroyer. With the stars out of alignment and a shadow growing in the east, the time had come to pry open the secrets that this facility housed once and for all.

++++++++++

The corridors had fallen quiet for the night, and the staff at the facility had retired to their quarters for slumber. Security cameras and various guarded checkpoints kept the workers inside safe from any outside threat....or so they thought. Silently a vent opened in the main sleeping hall, and a small fiber optic device descended into the room and began scanning for activity. After a few seconds the fiber optic was recoiled and a nylon rope took it's place. It touched down on the floor without making a noise, and slinking upside down through the opening in the vent was a team of Sentinel Stalkers. One by one they lowered themselves to the ground in complete silence, their weapons loaded and pointed at the scientists that slept before them, ready to fire if one of them so much as stirred in the slightest.

With the whole fireteam on the ground they began quietly walking towards the bedsides of each of the scientists and drew their combat knives. Sinking the shining blades into the soft flesh of their necks, the Stalkers began eliminating their marks one by one without so much as giving a hint of their presence. With the deed done and 37 men dead the Stalkers exited the room after glancing through the glass door and searching for targets. A slight pitter patter of footsteps was all that could be heard as the team traveled from room to room as stealth-fully as a snake, checking for intel and eliminating any person that was either asleep or still up at work.

With the first level totally cleared of any human presence, the Stalkers took the the ducts again and descended to the second level, normally unreachable. There was a secret passage to a set of stairs that lead to the second level, but the location of said door was not included in the structural blueprints of the facility. A Stalker opened up a small laptop computer attached to his forearm and began scanning the layout of the ducts and where they needed to go next. Using only hand signals he directed his men onward to the vent above the main checkpoint of the lower level. As they moved further and further into the heart of the complex, the chatter of guards broke the silence.

Heh, that was a good one! Belched a middle aged guard as he and his comrades shared a good and long laugh. Yeah I know, stupid bitch wouldn't shut her mouth, so now she won't be able to open it for a week or two. Finally some peace and quiet!

The Stalkers paused at the opening of the vent and sent their fiber optic cable forward. The Stalkers switched on their targeting computers inside their helmets and glared into their eye pieces. Receiving thermal imaging from the cable and the computer processor, the Stalkers took aim at the walls inside the shaft and waited for the word from their team leader. After a brief pause he lifted a finger ever so slightly, signaling his men to open fire.

Silenced bullets pierced the shaft and the concrete walls and collided with the skulls of the five men on duty, killing them instantly. Five bullets, five corpses.

The team exited the shaft and knocked out a set or security cameras that protected a sealed door, securing the area around them and moving the bodies of the dead and erasing any trace of bodily fluids and broken concrete. The team leader took the clearance card from one of the dead guards and slid it quickly through the door lock. Please scan retina. Chirped the computer in a robotic voice, and the team leader glanced over to his men and nodded his head. With a fling and whirl of a combat knife, the eye of the guard that held the security card came loose from it's socket and was soon in the hands of the Stalker's leader. The computer scanned the retina and immediately let free the locks on the door, and the Stalkers moved forward swiftly with their weapons drawn.

After a long journey down a dark and quiet hallway the Sentinels came to a large overpass, and they look a glance at what the room beneath them housed. Large glass cases with some sort of being inside them dominated the room, hundreds of them scattered throughout the place. The Stalkers lowered another rope and slid down from the balcony to the floor, where they began searching for any possible data on what had been going on down there. A project manual lay open next to a long cold cup of tea, and the team commander glanced over it carefully, uttering only the words Project: Red Fury.

As the team moved throughout the room searching for intel, a slight disturbance put them on their guard. Several of the glass cases inside the room were empty, and the fluids inside spilled on the ground. They investigated with caution, not sure as to how long the cases had been in this kind of condition. As a lone Stalker bent down to examine the fluid, he was promptly whisked upwards into the rafters by some unknown force without so much as a gasp escaping his lungs. Another Sentinel that was securing that same area noticed the absence of his teammate, and his eyes scanned the room cautiously with his SBP-90 raised and ready to fire.

A single drop of blood fell from the ceiling and hit the floor, and immediately the ears of all the Stalkers were alert, their rifles whirling about the room. They switched on their flashlights and began checking the dark spaces in the room for the source of this disturbance, and as a Sentinel passed a small 3 inch floor drain, an unknown force grabbed ahold of him and literally pulled him down through the drain. His screams filled the room as his body was broken down into mush and disappeared into the floor, and immediately the Stalkers moved towards the center of the room and took up a circular perimeter. Fear did not taint them however, only desire to eliminate the one responsible for the two dead Sentinels, but their efforts were in vain.

A whoosh and a shadow came out of literally nowhere, and the heads of 3 Stalkers jerked backwards slightly as they dropped their rifles. Standing dumbly for a few seconds, a red line appeared from across the center of their heads, and slowly the top portion of their skulls slid free from their body and hit the floor with a squishy thud. The Stalkers had heard the stories about the Strikers in the days of old, but these creatures were much more cunning indeed, for even their modified eyes could not see the foe or foes that were before them. The team leader raised his hand and issued the hand signal for extraction, and immediately the team began moving out. The ducts were not the path of choice this time, their only option left was to run and gun.

As they ran as quietly as they could towards the door the lead to the hallway, several glass cases near the team exploded. Shards of glass embedded themselves in various Stalkers and the surge of fluids knocked several of them to their feet. Their lives were promptly ended in a cloud of red blood and a shower of human flesh as they were diced into mere shreds in seconds flat. With only 4 Stalkers left, things were looking hopeless.

Open fire!

The order rang out loudly, and a hail of automatic fire engulfed the room. The entire area was peppered with gunfire, everything from the floors to the ceiling being pumped full of lead rounds. But soon even the chatter of gunfire fell silent, and thus the Stalkers were no more. Back at command the high ranking AMF military officials knew in that moment what they were up against. Order the strike, now. Incendiary rounds only, I want that hellhole burned into oblivion! The order from a 3 star General was clear, and within seconds three AMF F-16's were in the air and loaded with their war-shot.

The quiet of the night was abruptly ended as the complex exploded into a massive fireball several hundred feet tall. The structural integrity of the building quickly failed and a massive implosion occurred, sending a large cloud of dust and debris into the chilly night air. AMF command watched from their satellites, quickly deeming the strike as a success and recalling their war-birds. What they did not realize however was the great stirring that initiated beneath the soil.........and what a macabre frenzy it was going to be.

OOC: Creepy and well written. I like.

OOC: Said it before and I'll say it again. Write a novel. Please!

OOC: Bump for the night, new post tomorrow.

OOC: Tag. Wow, good work man.

From the smoldering ruins of the complex came the first signs of life. It was a Sentinel Stalker, badly burned and with a horribly crushed left leg. It took him hours to crawl from the twisted piles of steel and concrete, but the information he brought back with him was most useful. AMF satellites detected his heat signature, and immediately three platoons of Stalkers were sent to his location for extraction. Moving in with light armor support and a boatload of caution, the wounded soldier was extracted and quickly sent to the nearest military hospital for treatment and debriefing.

The camera that was attached to his combat harness was shattered into a thousand pieces, but the data chip that recorded the night's event was intact. The chip was promptly removed from the crushed unit and placed in a large computer where a state of the art video processor began playing its contents. Forty five minutes into the mission things started going to hell, and the camera recorded very little of the actual firefight. Assorted screams and gunfire was all that could be heard, and the image was a blur as the Stalker moved about quickly for cover. The image then ceased to move as he hit the ground, wounded by whatever abominations were inside the room.

Another ten minutes later came the explosion and collapse of the complex, but the image on the camera gave the military officers a bit of disturbing information. The figures could be seen exiting the containment room through a secret passageway in the wall. The bombs dropped by the planes caused all the glass cases in the room to shatter, and in doing so awakening whatever it was inside.

The wounded Stalker also carried with him a note from the containment room. Torn and bloodied, the only part they could make out was a shipping manifest and a location number: Lab #27.

This is bad gentlemen. This lab we destroyed was only one of 27 that we know of. Whatever these things are, there were hundreds of them in that one lab. I can only imagine how many others there are in these other labs. The young General and soon to be Warchief looked across the dread filled faces of his officers and issued an order that had not been issued since the tyrannical rule of Rayne....martial law.

Lock down the entire city and any industrial neighborhoods around the country. Initiate a curfew and search any suspicious buildings from top to bottom. Deploy our Sentinel garrisons in every major city and inform the militias to take up arms. We don't have alot of time, for with the weakening of the fabric that seperates the realm of the Living and the realm of the Dead, we cannot take any chances.....especially if...she....is watching.

[OOC- Yesss! *Pumps fist in air*

I loved Rayne and her crazies back when you wrote about them! And they're back! Woo-hoo! Time for popcorn and possible military asssitance if requested.]

TAG. Now If you'll let me i'll post my rant from the NATO boards.

OOC: Bump, post will be up after the new year.

Meanwhile the spiritual fabric that seperates the two realms began to tear even further, and even more unexplained occurances continued to happen. Villages literally vanished from the face of the earth, people burst into flames randomly, and behind every shadow was an ominous presence. The Enclave of Farseers had fled the country at the beginning of the turbulance, and with the resurgence of activity the Council of High Preists packed their things and fled as well. As they boarded their ships at St. Freeksburg port, they rambled and ranted about things they had seen...things happening both now and in the future. The culling of a great evil force was indeed at hand.

The Death Dealers, perhaps the most in tune with the Spirit Realm, had gathered outside the Tomb of the Mutilated, deep within the heart of the Halls of the Dead. The One Who Shall Remain Unnamed stood ontop of the great stone that covered the entrance into what many considered Hell itself. He looked over the faces of his unworldly warriors from underneath his wide brim hat, scanning their red eyes carefully.

My brothers, many moons ago a foul incarnation was cast into our homeland, the Tomb. I believe now that inside the Tomb itself this being has manifest itself into a powerful essence and may soon have enough strength to exit the Tomb itself. Our Death Dealers inside the Tomb have reported to me that a gateway has been opened, and through it a great many beings have passed. One such creature a tall, thin woman with feiry hair.....I thnk we all remember this beast.

A great stirring took place, and the Death Dealers began whispeing amongst themselves, several of them reeling back and smashing their axes against the wall. They knew all too well what The One was talking about, and they threw open the Tomb and began summoning forth their brothers inside......along with many other vile beings that Earth had never seen before.

The smoke that rises from the east rises for a reason. The gateway that has been opened inside the Tomb leads to The Forbidden Isle. I believe it is there that this creature awaits in the darkness, summoning forth great demons and creatures to do her bidding. Lord Dreadfire has told me her Strikers have been reborn in various labs across the nation, vastly more powerful and unstable than before. We must tread carefully my Death Dealers, and we must destroy this filth before it can harm our Lord.

+++++++++++++++

Taking a break from the constant sting of war to finally get a good night's sleep, Damien rested his head for the first time in 3 days. Operation: Brimstone was looking to be a success, and the war in Crimmond would soon be over. Alas his days of battle would soon come to an end, and his mind was at ease as he slipped into a long and well deserved slumber.

But his peaceful rest was broken, and his dreams were bombarded with images of rage, murder, and dragon's fire. The Great Hall was burning, and his son Azrael lay dead in a pool of blood, his head severed and smashed into a fine bloody powder. Damien's troops lay dead and scattered throughout the streets as the winds picked up and spread burning embers from house to house. Demonic laughter soon drowned out the screams of the dying and the gunfire of those resisting the inevitable. Soon flames consumed all he could see, and in the fire a face began to emerge....laughing at him, mocking him.

http://www.game-exe.ru/pubimages/72348.jpg

Damien immediatly sat up, his forehead drenched in sweat and his teeth clenched. You..... He snarled in a very loud and angry voice. His attention was drawn to the moon, and he rose from his bed and walked cautiously towards the balcony. The moon slowly began turning a deep shade of red before it then disappeared behind the clouds, never to be seen again.

Damien hastily put on his blessed battle armor and grabbed the Relic's Sword which had been sitting in a heap on his desk. He removed the shining blade and walked towards the alter where candles still burned. Placing the tip of the sword on the ground and kneeling down, he whispered a prayer to the Gods for strength and unrelenting rage in the coming storm. These were things he would soon need if he was going to see this through alive.

Deep within the forests of The Forbidden Isle where no sunlight has ever touched the ground, an anomaly happened. The demons and creatures of the night that had escaped the Other Side and made it to the Isle had built a makeshift altar with a strange round stone sitting on top of it. A strange mist swirled around the stone and eventually impregnated it, causing the gray rock to turn a sickening mikly white. A female voice spoke out in an almost crashing voice, commanding her minions of shadow and corpse to bring forth the one thing she desired. Bring me a body, that I might live again.

Hours later a small boat made out of black wood touched the shores of The Forbidden Isle, and a small band of what only could be described as half rotten zombies shrouded in long black cloaks carried a woman in her mid twenties who was bound in rope. The dragged her several miles to the site where their alter sat, and the dark minions offered forth their prize onto the great stone. They sat the woman down on the ground right in front of the altar and removed her blindfold, and in a state of confusion and panic she looked about her surroundings.....until her eyes locked with the stone. She felt a chill run down her spine as the white fog that filled the stone came forth and shot into her eyes. The woman cried out and rolled on the ground in great pain until she finally passed out, at which time the 'zombies' wrapped her in a black cloth and placed her inside a small cave. Various objects that had once belonged to Rayne were placed inside, most likely just after her demise many years ago.

With the woman placed inside in a comatose state, the cave was sealed and guards placed at the door. It would only be a matter of hours now before the spirit of the woman would be ripped out and replaced with Rayne's and before the physical transformation would be complete. The skies above The Forbidden Isle darkened even more as the evil that resided there swelled to an almost incomprehensible level.

++++++++++++++

Lord Dreadfire, our military commanders have reported the demolition of three more suspected labs, but the remaining ones elude us. I have deployed our garrisons accordinly and....

The young officer was interrupted by the angry hand of Damien, smacking him down to the ground with great force. The Destroyer was visibly angry, and he did not tolerate failure. Incompetent fool. Putting stock in your tactics and technology was a mistake! It is unrestrained aggression and a cold heart that will defeat this menace, of which you have none! Damien was in a obvious rage, and the officer literally crawled away on his hands and knees.

Dreadfire moved about the Great Hall and plotted his next course...a move of which had never been attempted before. He knew that something was going on at The Forbidden Isle, for The One had informed him well. He was going to lay siege to a land where no man had ventured and returned at all. He was going to lay siege to The Forbidden Isle.

~One week ago

Kanosis sat in the chamber of thought in the underground of Celack, away from view of the public. The underground empire was the sewers and caverns of Celack. The HQ was the hollowed mountain of Evke. At the highest point, four shaft were cut allowing the sunlight to flow in to a single room, the chamber of thought. Kanosis was medatating and was having a vision. He had them since his accession to the leader of the underground and they were never wrong.


Death, discord and chaos reigned in AutomagFreek. This time it was not Damien's doing. It was Rayne. Demonic beasts were in a city killing indiscriminatly. Four men stood in a circle, glowing with a bright aura, almost blinding. They fought the beast slaying them, holding them off with blades that glowed blue and flamed. Only when the last of the beast had died did the men succumb to their wounds. They were the vol-slayers.

Kanosis awoke from the and ran to the atrium as fast as his lame leg could take him. He told his aide to bring to vol-slayers to him. He returned to the chamber and tried to remember what he knew of the vol-slayers.


In the age of strife, 2000 years ago, Celack was split into four tribes, the Celacks, The Hiawiantian, The Nimurabi, and The Salamakanians. They were engaged in a war with each other. Each leader chose their best soldier and blessed them. Magic was used and them were made to be stronger, faster, and better than anyone else. Many battles were won by these soldiers until the deciding, and last, battle of the age of strife. The last armies of the tribes met at the Plains of Copares. Each army brought their champions. The champions met in the centre of the battlefield and began personaly combat, always a draw. The armies fought around them but no-one was clearly winning or losing. That was until the CapAp's attacked. An army of CapAp's charged the amassed armies because if they were removed the armies, Celack would be open for the taking. The General, and high wizard of the CapAps summoned a demon to destroy the Champions. The champions realized what was happening and they allied together. They attacked the demon and slew it. The armies of Celack slew the CapAp army. The CapAp general cursed the champions to walk the earth forever, the only way for death to claim them was by the hand of a demon. The four Champions realizing what this meant deciding to dedicate themselve to the elimation of demons. They adopted the name Vol-slayers and disappeared, only returning when needed. They were needed now.


The four men walked in the chamber, in full battledress, with their weapons strapped to their back. Kanosis adressed them.

"As some of you might have guessed, I had a vision of a situation that requires your skills. you four always operated in Celack, for the good of Celack, but this time you will need to leave Celack. In Automagfreek, demons stir. Many innocents will die if we do nothing.I will get plane tickets and false identification and credentials ready for you. The way you will get your weapons to AMF is by claiming it's for a museum exhibit. Your the curator and the rest of your are the security guards. Go, we are running out of time."

The hours had passed, and silence had befallen The Forbidden Isle. The cave that held the body of Rayne lay empty, and not a creature stirred from shore to shore. Even with the moon full and high in the night sky, not a bit of light illuminated the shores of the AMF mainland. The great fog that had fallen in the east was playing hell with AMF radar installations in the area as well as communications, and the same black boat that brought the condemned woman onto The Isle was taken back to the mainland. The boat sat on the sandy beaches of Automagfreek, with a single figure cloaked in black walking up the shores.

Days had passed and the figure walked onward without stopping, until it reached the capital. Word had spread across the lands of the joyous return of Azrael the Advocate, son of Lord Damien. While his forces were not engaged in Operation: Brimstone, it was always a grand day when The Advocate returned from afar. He was a well liked and respected man, quite the opposite of his father both emotionally and socially. While his father was respected, feared, and hailed as a God, Azrael was more like an everyday person to the Freeks.

As his Sentinels marched down the long roads of the capital with the banners of The Advocate waving high, a celebration swept through ULE City. Large banners of gray, green, and gold were everywhere the eye could see, and the citizens celebrated and laid flowers in Azrael's path as he made his way to the Westwind Citadel. Riding triumphantly on a white stallion with seas of flower petals all around him, Azrael greeted his people with a warm smile and a waving hand. He truely liked to serve his people, stopping many times to shake hands with everyday people and take pictures, etc. With the Westwind Citadel in sight, Azrael sighed contently and continued greeting his loyal subjects. He dismounted his horse to shake hands yet again, and as he made his way through the crowd a stunningly beautiful woman grabbed ahold of him. Her eyes wee as big as the smile on her face, and she kissed his hands and hailed him as a hero.

M'Lord, it is so good to see you again. She lowered her eyes and looked at him erotically, swaying her hips seductively and wrapping her right arm around his shoulders. Let us celebrate your return, M'Lord. She whispered in his ear as she ran a finger down his armor and played with his belt buckle. Azrael chuckled and bit his lip, happy to be getting some real action since his forces were ordered to return to home under condition of an enemy surrender.

He glanced up at the Westwind Citadel and then back at the beauty before him, and he gestured his hand for her to follow him inside. After a half hour walk the parade had ended and The Advocate retired to his fortress with his prize for the night in arm. Snaking through the corridors to his private wing, Azrael offered her some refreshments as she hung up her cloak and made herself comforatable.

The woman removed her cloak and sat down on the edge of Azrael's massive bed, crossing her legs and looking eagerly into his eyes. He thought for a second that this woman was a prostitute judging from her manner of dress, but he himself did not care one way or another. Low cut, tight red and black leather was not usual street attire for Freek women, but it certainly was quite flattering on her body. He approached her and stood a few feet away and began removing his ceremonial armor, making casual chatter with her before he would go to work. He asked her name, and she replied with a devilish grin. Rayne.

Hmmm....feiry name for a feiry wench. She should be quite the thrill. He thought to himself as she stood and emraced him gently, running her hands across his chest and rubbing her thigh up against his. Her green eyes were enchanting, and Azrael could not stop starring into them. She grinned and moved in slowly, kissing him long and passionatly. Azrael felt a slight twitch in his spine, almost as if he was being electrocuted in some way. He had no control over his body and could not move, it was if the very life blood was being sucked out of him.

She pushed Azrael on the bed and stood commandingly over him. He convulsed and foamed at the mouth, his fingers gnarled and his teeth clenched hard. But suddenly his thrashing ceased and he exhaled deeply, a look of horror upon his face before blacking out. Rayne laughed silently to herself and moved over towards the coat rack and removed a small book from her cloak. She moved back towards the bed and sat beside Azrael, mouthing demonic words in a foul tongue for the next two hours.

When The Advocate woke he clenched his head and struggled to focus his eyes. He saw the woman underneath the bed sheets next to him, and his stirring woke her up. Who the fuck are you and what are you doing in my bed, bitch! He snarled fiercly. She giggled playfully and slapped his chest, sitting up abit in the bed. I'm your wife Azrael, duh! A great pain washed over him, and he clenched his throbbing head and winced. His mind began playing back memories of a grand wedding, green fields, Rayne, the honeymoon, a kiss, nights of passion, and the words I love you.

As Azrael moaned in pain Rayne grinned ever so slighty. The flase memories she had instilled in his head were taking effect, and when Azrael calmed down he looked at her with a smile. Don't mind me m'dear, my head is weary. As kissed him gently and smiled wide. I know Azrael, I know. Get some sleep now, you look like you need it. He wasted no time in falling unconscious, and as soon as he did Rayne rose from the bed and put her clothes back on. She almost looked disgusted at him but she was quite happy that her influence could overcome his mind.

It is only a matter of time now. She evily laughed aloud as she left the room and walked freely about the Westwind Citadel, sizing it up and looking over the massive structure. For hours she walked through the halls and looked at it's defenses, taking pictures and writing notes in another book that she carried. She stepped out onto one of the many balconies and looked eastward towards the ULE Valley. From her view she could see the Great Hall.....the site where so many years ago she struck down Damien Dreadfire and left his body in ruins. Just as he returned from the Other Side, so had she.

Nicee!!!!

OOC: Glorified TAG

Tower Central Control, The Tower, Wye City, Weyr, Central Pacific

Tension ran high in the control room. Alchemists and magi'i pored over telemetry data. Reports came in by every conceivable means. Lights flickered off, came back on. An intern came around with a tray of strong coffee and tea.

"Has the world ended?" Alchemist Li snapped, staring at the floating head of Magus Black, Director of Earthbound Station, which had suddenly appeared above his desk. Black was the only director of The Tower not sitting in Central. With most Weyrean craft grounded or stuck in orbit due to the massive flux-torque storm located right over the small artificial landmass placed squarely in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, he didn't have much choice.

"Tune in to etherstat eight," Black said simply, his image crackling slightly from thaumaturgic distortions in the atmosphere. Li pressed the uplink key, the click lost amidst the clattering of brass keyboards and murmur of voices that filled the dim control room.

"The Freeks can handle it," he said after a moment.

"And if they can't?" Black inquired.

"Then they can't. We got our own problems (http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=385976)," the Grand Alchemist sighed. "Keep a watch on it."

"Gotcha, Black out," the Director of Earthbound Station nodded. His projected head flashed, and was gone.

Li sighed, watching the etherstat uplinks over Weyr from his seat in the giant spire of diamond, plasteel and stressglas that was The Tower, right in the heard of Wye City, the capital of Weyr. Etherstat eight didn't actually pass over Freek space, and Li doubted they had the ability to shoot down a ball of thaumaturgic and rod logic arrays smaller than a melon, but the glimpse of reality fluctuations there was...nothing good. Still, The Tower couldn't do anything, not with flux monsters and demons on the loose in Weyr proper and just days away from the capital.

”We have a link with Southgard,” Southgard Ward deputy director Magus Lebedev called out, and the room fell into silence. This was the first transmission they’d be getting from the area of the broken Ward in hours.

Council of Thirteen Legislative Meeting, 0747 hours
“For the final time, we will not be sending anything official to Automagfreek. Myself and the rest of my group feel we’ve gone far enough on this already, damn it!”

A very incensed and very vocal Dr. Mountbaden, Minister of Culture squarely pointed his finger at the head of the Council, Minister X.

“We’ve got a 7-6 vote on this in our favor. Nothing will be sent and as per official policy, that will be regarded as a unanimous decision.”

Minister X nodded. “Very well. Nothing official will be sent.” As the victorious group of council members filed out of the room, X raised an eyebrow to Minister Cohen, head of Intelligence services, which encompassed far more then mere intelligence gathering. Cohen grinned.

“I know sir, nothing official. Doesn’t mean my boys won’t be able to go in.”

STJPI Headquarters, Unknown Location. 0950 hours
Director Meyers, longtime head of the Strategic Joint Partnership Initiative was the happiest he’d ever been in his long career as a civil servant. With the authorization of funds approved, it was his department’s job now to assuage the situation occurring in AMF.

You see, it was his branch that dealt with all the government officially foreswore involvement in: the miracles, the demons, the occult. And yet, his immense group wielded immense power. Operating under no oversight, no publicity, the group was the black sheep of the Samtonian spec ops community.

No rumor too small, no insanity too great, this elite team of investigators, scientists, and trained guns responded daily to paranormal occurrences across Samtonia. But now something big was happening. Too big for the Freeks to handle on their own. And Meyers knew that what was going on had to be stopped.

As he strode down the corridor to the meeting which was about to take place, his mind flashed back to numerous operations over the years. Destruction of cults, nefarious worshippers of even more nefarious gods. Successful sabotage of illicit gene modification operation in a warehouse on the docks of a Samtonia city. Killing of the leader of a cult whose goal to bring about the existence of Star Gods from beyond our realm nearly succeeded. Meyers had seen much, all of which would be enough to make a sane man snap. But Meyers and his team were most assuredly not sane.

Striding into the conference room, he was pleased to see the top people of his group assembled. Sitting down, Meyers turned to one Dr. Fricks, Investigative Scientist, Head of Occult Research Wing.

“Dr, pleasure to meet again. Let’s get this going.”

Fricks nodded, and as the room’s lights dimmed his projection unit whirred to life, showing a satellite picture of mainland AMF, small blotches of blue scattered across the map.

“Gentlemen and ladies, as you can see, this is a view of AMF picked up by our instruments about two weeks ago. The blue denotes areas of occult or otherwise unaccounted for activities, with large concentrations being seen around the Halls of The Dead. Anything darker then blue shows ever increasing areas of extra-dimensional activity.”

He paused, letting his words sink in. And as the slide changed, audible gasps were heard around the room. The slide was now covered in ever-darker blue spots, some growing purple. And at the very farthest northern reaches of AMF, an area was growing darker. Swirling colors drew from dark purple to gray to black in some areas.

Fricks spoke again, as the occupants of the room gripped their chairs and murmured. “You can see the increase in activity. This is a live feed. Gentlemen, we have a problem. Something is throwing open gates, disrupting the natural order. AMF most certainly cannot handle this on their own, prowess of Dreadfire aside. I think it certain that she’s back. Rayne has almost certainly returned. The last spikes anywhere near this level were when she was alive and just before her banishment to the Halls. We looking at something I hoped to God we’d never have to look at. A Situation Black.”

As gasps sounded, the slide changed yet again. This time, it showed up on the small screens inset into the table in front of all. Fricks continued. “This calls for immediate deployment, attempted containment, and forceful relocation of certain items if discovered. We need immediate deployment and we need the complicit trust of Dreadfire. We’re sending everything. Skeleton crews back here, but nothing too big should happen while we’re gone. Everyone, get your sectors mobilized. It’s the decision of both myself and the Director that this will be an emergency procedure. Folks, get moving. We’ve got 24 hours.”

And as silence slowed settled upon the hushed participants, Director Meyers stood calmly, gently. “You heard Dr. Fricks. Instructions are back at your offices. Open the packets and follow the instructions. And when you are done, pray. Pray that we might stop this madness before it gets too far. For when you pray for that, you pray for a future safe for us, our families, and most importantly our posterity.”

Coded Message sent to Damien Dreadfire and Head of Death Dealers

This message never came from us. We do not exist. And yet, we can help you.

As per Directive 12, we’re sending our entire department to help with the situation. Anything detail-wise can be sent back to me. Know this. It appears to be Rayne and we’re not going to let that situation happen again. Our entire group will die to stop that, as will the both of you.

Give us info and we’ll give you info. Give us guides and we’ll help hunt down them. And give me an audience, because I cannot send the information I must give you by this. I fear her minions already have advanced too much in power. Dispose of this as soon as you are finished with its reading. The stakes are too high to do otherwise.

Yours, Director Meyers of the STJPI

OOC: Auto, this story rocks.

IC: Lady Lara Tian observed the images from the satalite and the reports from Black Staff operatives. They had no Black Council to report to, so they reproted to whoever they could, which was her.

"So all hell has broken loose. How does this affect us, General?" she asked the image of General of the Army Meridius, which was on another screen.

"We don't know. But M'lady, this isn't the first time Hell has reared it's head on the planet. We've seen a demon that shares daily chats with Lucifer claw it's way up to the mortal realm. Of course, we have no fallen half angel on our side this time to beat them back." he answers calmly, seeming unhappy with it.

"True, but this is Damien Dreadfire. I don't remember the Shentavo family ever having The One and his Death Dealers on their side. And you know their involved if this is centered around the Halls. Let them handle it for now. I'll worry when I see the image of the Destroyer's head on a pike." she sighed at that and flipped off the consoles, turning to stare out into the night from her suite's window.

"Probably never said before... but God be with you Damien."

A gentle kiss on the lips was all she gave as she grabbed her cloak and made for the door. I will return to you soon Azrael, my love. Tears flowed from his eyes as she made her way to the door, for Rayne had now become an addiction to the young Warlord. He extended his hand towards her as the door closed, wimpering to himself quietly as he then sat alone in his highback chair.

The hour was late and Rayne began walking the dark alleys of ULE City with caution, for she knew that Lord Damien most likely knew of her crossing between the weak realms. She stopped momentarily when she reached a cracked and very old manhole cover, which she promptly pried open and decended into the darkness below. She removed a small flashlight from her cloak and turned it on before beginning the long walk to her destination through the grime and filth of the sewer. After a 20 minute walk she arrived at a large underground structure which almost resembled an ancient temple, even though it was only recently constructed.

Greeting her with hisses and growls were hundreds of her newly modified 'Strikers', the abominations which she had used last time in her plot against Damien. More dangerous than ever before, the new Strikers would be a force that even the Death Dealers would have to reckon with. My children, my creations! Mother is home. She looked around the room contently at her Strikers and the various scientists, priests, and political figures that filled the room. All loyal servants of Rayne, they beamed in content as they looked upon their reborn leader in glory.

Judgement Day has arrived, and not a moment too soon. 100 feet above our heads sits Damien's Great Hall. For years this facility was constructed under his very nose, with my loyal High Priests shrouding this place from the eyes of The One the entire time. Your efforts will not go unrewarded when I lay waste to Damien once and for all and take my rightful place as the sole leader of the most dominant military empire on Earth today. Make ready my Strikers....make ready to take to the surface.


+++++++++++++

The message from Samtonia was indeed one that caused Damien to scoff in bewilderment. He dismissed the nature of the message and it's contents, sending a brief and to the point reply.

~From the desk of Lord Damien the Destroyer, Supreme Warlord of the Excessively Armed Empire of Automagfreek~

I can assure you your concerns are unfounded. While there is indeed great spiritual conflict in the Empire, I can assure you that the fabric that seperates the realms is still strong enough to prevent a being so incredibly evil as Rayne from crossing over. In fact, having been sent into what can only be described as the darkest place in Hell, I highly doubt that her spirit could escape the eternal damnation she has been enduring. She cannot cross over.....and to speak of such is heresy.

Whatever would give you this impression, I do not know. But know this, if the day comes when her foul spirit contaminates this Earth once again, know that I stand with a ready sword to send her back into abyss from wence she came.

I am most surprised that you would mention her name, seeing as she departed the realm of the Living so long ago.

http://67.18.37.14/40/9/upload/p3403.jpg
---Damien the Destroyer---
-Supreme Warlord of AMF-

~Two days after the vision~

The four vol-slayers departed from the plane at ULE city, collected their baggage, and got a taxi to their hotel. En-route, Chaliun, their leader, withdrew his cell-phone and called a number in Celack.

"Hello dear. We just landed in ULE.The meeting has been cancelled due to the fact that the museum is closed. Their going to reshedual it so I'll be here longer. Don't worry, everything's fine, except for a headache I have. Talk to you later. Good-bye."

He hung up. Fifteen minutes later an aide ran to Kanosis.

"The vol-slayers have called in. They have reached ULE city,but the target area is unaccesable and they are awaiting orders. Nothing seems out of order but Chaliun has a bad feeling. He'll call back in again."

"Next time he does tell him to be alert beyond usual and to stay in ULE. I feel dark forces at work there. That is where I fear all hell will break loose."

"What can we here in Celack do, my lord?"

"Pray."

o.o.c.Check your TG's

OOC: Very nice... but bloody freakin' hell. Rayne's back... *remembers the hell Tiburon went through twice to get rid of her*

IC:
Space Fortress Barge, the Tiburon Earth Space Colonies

The government of Tiburon never really believed in the supernatural, and, for the most part, neither did the people. Athiesm was the predominant religion in the nation, and the government strictly dealt with matters of science. So when Lieutenant Trent, a commanding officer of Barge, requested a meeting of the Joint Chiefs of Staff and the heads of the Central Intelligence Agency to discuss a supernatural event, the event was viewed with much... skepticism. However, Trent had been a great commander during the NATO/ North Korea war, coordinating with NATO allies to win every single battle he fought.

"Surveillance sattelites have indicated that there is a large presence of an unknown energy expenditure in the nation of Automagfreek. This has been confirmed by reports from agents in other countries who state that their nations' sattelites have observed this as well. Although at this time we cannot conclusively find the cause for this... some other countries believe it to be related to..." he added the last word painfully, "Rayne."

The generals suddenly became much more interested in this report. Although the AMF "campaign" against Rayne had been successful, as all other Tiburonese campaigns had been up to today, the AMF campaign was still remembered as one of the most difficult. The Gundams themselves had some difficulty destroying the Stalkers. Of course, both the Gundams and the regular Mobile Suits and Mobile Dolls had been upgraded since then, but, undoubtedly, so had the Stalkers...

OOC2: "The most dominant military power on Earth?"

o.o.c. Cause this thread and rp is dying, I'm gonna give it the defibrulation of a good action filled post. If you don't want it in here, I'll DEET it.

I.C.

Chaluin was lying in bed in his motel room. Each of the vol-slayers had gotten seperate rooms because they all snored, it was joked. Chaluin had been snoring earlier but now he was in the state of groggy half-awakeness. He had been awakened by a tingling on the back of his neck, a tingling he felt whenever evil was near. He dismissed it as the fact that Automagfreek was naturally evil when he heard the wooden door crack open. He lept to his feet and turned on the light. He saw a striker advancing across the floor at him. It jumped him, it's claws trying to slash into Chaluin's flesh. They only ripped through the air as Chaluin rolled out of the way. He openned his suitcase and drew his sword and turned to face the striker when an arrow hit the beast. The arrow was directly in the beasts belly. Around it the flesh of the beast began to melt until the entire beast melted away. Burning hawk, another Vol-slayer entered the room, bow in hand. He picked up the arrow, who's head was glowing blue, but growing dim.

o.o.c. I'll post more but I gotta run now.

OOC: I had a friend who died a few days ago Celack. Give me some time.

Ok, no more OOC clutter from me. Post will be up in a day or two.

OOC: The fucking forum ate my post, which was very well done. God dammit....

++++++++++++++++++++++

Dreadfire moved about the throne room unaware of the large commotion that had begun miles beneath the surface of the Great Hall. Thousands of Strikers began moving towards the surface with Rayne at the helm, and the orders were made clear: eliminate Dreadfire and any of those who resist. While the Strikers were not armed with any conventional weapon, the creatures themselves were more than a match for any foe Damien could muster. The Strikers were able to morph their hands and arms into large spikes and stabbing weapons. It was as if the very 'material' that made up the Strikers could be bent and molded to the creature's liking.

Just as Damien prepared to exit the throne room, a massive jolt suddenly stopped him dead in his tracks. His Third Eye had opened and sensed a great danger in the very near future, and this caused Dreadfire to rush to the weapons rack in the room. Just as he took up the Relic's Sword, a flurry of darts pierced his back, 14 total. This caused the Warlord to stumble and fall to his feet, the sword reeling above his head in a fury. Another volley of darts hit him in his neck and chest, sending him straight the the ground.

With Damien out cold, several figures entered the room. They were none other than Minister Hartman, The One, and a host of Sentinels. The Sentinels began bagging Damien and removed him from the throne room, but not before Hartman could say his peace to his friend and leader.

I am sorry, old friend, but I have done what is neccessary. The One has seen a great many disturbing things, and your life itslelf is in danger. We are going to take you away from....her...grasp. I know you would rather stay here and fight a warrior's fight and die in a sea of valor, but we cannot spare you Damien. We need your leadership and your strength, and we will live to fight another day. Let us regroup and finish this unholy menace once and for all.

With that, the large group of people exited the Great Hall and entered a black van. The door on the van slammed shut and the tires screeched as the vehicle sped off into the night, save for The One. Meanwhile, Rayne and her host of Strikers were dangerously near the surface. Having known this, The One ordered his foulest legion of Death Dealers to give Rayne a 'warm' welcome. Hundreds of pairs of red eyes illuminated the dark streets, their weapons locked and loaded and their axes ready to cleave heathen flesh. The One himself prepared to do for the first time ever in this Realm, and he took to the front of the Death Dealer column and silently marched his brethren forward into the Great Hall.

o.o.c. I know man. I was just keeping this up. Sorry if I seemed insensitive. Oh yeah Eras is the Celackian name for God. Just a story point. Balls in your court if you want them to be attacked.

I.C. Chaliun turned to burning hawk.

"Why were you up so late?"

"Meditating. I heard one of the strikers comming through my door. They know we're here, I suspect. We should wake the others now."

~~~~5 minutes later.~~~~~~~~~

The four Vol-slayers were leaving the Motel, armed and armoured. Chaliun turned on his cell phone and dialed a number.

"Greenleaf taxi company. How may I help you."

"This is Chaliun. I need to talk to the boss."

"Certainly."

A few minutes later another voice got on the other end of the phone.

"Chaliun, your in danger. I saw the beasts rising, ready to strike. They a re comm...."

"They already have. Me and Burning Hawk killed two of them. They attacked us. We're going undergroud."

"Good luck and may Eras be with you."

The four men pried a cover off a manhole and jumped into the sewers.

The large column of Death Dealers marched in formation through the large oak doors of the Great Hall, soon breaking ranks as they funneled into the large building. Knowing that they soon would be destroyed physically and cast back into the Tomb, the Death Dealers prepared to hold out as long as they could against the Strikers, hopefully buying Hartman some time to get Damien far enough away. The One could sense where Rayne would make her entrance, and he ordered his Death Dealers to set up several automated gun turrets running off of an IR signature. With thousands of rounds per unit, the guns were placed well behind a series of claymore mines and other nasty surprises.

The Great Hall was totally dark, save for the glowing red eyes of the Death Dealers. The One knew that Rayne was close, and soon the sounds of marching footsteps echoed through the walls. He raised his hand and signaled his Death Dealers to make ready, their .50 cal machine guns locked and ready to fire. As the footsteps grew in magnitude, it was soon clear which section of the wall they would come through, and the turrets and mines were hastily adjusted to increase their efficiency. For a moment there was complete silence, followed by a large section of the wall exploding into pieces as the first wave of Strikers punched through. The mines were triggered via a remote detonator, sending thousands of ball bearings into the Striker ranks. The explosion of mines was followed by a hail of automated gun fire and shortly thereafter a hail of .50 cal fire.

The clang of spent casings and the burst of automatic fire echoed throughout the Great Hall's mighty corridors, and the Death Dealers held their positions even as the Strikers plowed headfirst into their ranks. With the front line of Death Dealers beginning to collapse and their ammunition nearly spent, The One drew his large sabre and ordered his men to charge in. Firing off whatever ammo they had left and running atop the dead bodies of both Death Dealer and Striker alike, The One valiantly lead his men into a butal clash with Rayne's minions. Axes cleaved, bullets pierced, and razors shredded in some of the most bone jarring combat The One had ever seen. With his men dropping like flies amidst the sheer might of the Strikers, The One ordered his men to fall back and reform ranks.

With the Strikers attacking from the floor, walls, and ceiling, it was becoming apparent to The One that even though many casualties had been inflicted upon Rayne's forces that it seemed unlikely that they would beat back the entire swarm. Knowing his time was running way shorter then even he had forseen, The One prepared to call off the attack.....until he saw her in the sea of bodies. With her lips curled back in an evil smile, Rayne set foot into the main corridor and stood imposingly in the middle of the action. The One's purple eyes seethed, and he threw off his long coat for the first time, revealing a cut and very built physique, although his skin did not seem to be made of the same substance as human skin. He also placed his sabre back in its scabbard as he lowered his head and slowly removed his long brim hat. The entire room seemed to grow silent as for the first time since his incarnation The One had removed his hat, revealing the mystery beneath it.

He removed his hat and looked up at Rayne, the purple lights behind his eyeless sockets glowing brightly. The little burnt and dried skin that covered his black skull wrinkled and wriggled about his face, and after taking in a deep breath his jaw dropped down below his waist and from his lungs bellowed the most ear shattering shriek ever heard. So loud in fact that Rayne herself was taken back, and The One drew his sabre again and whirled it high above his head violently. Then, in speed almost as great as the Strikers he charged headfirst right at Rayne, howling and wailing at the top of his lungs and preparing to do combat with her once again.

STJPI Headquarters, Unknown Location in Samtonia, 0037 Hours
The darkened images flitted across the screen, thousands of them, all heading towards the one and same place. As the tide slowly ebbed around the section of wall that the camera sat on, a shadowy form could be seen leaping towards the static camera. A moment later, it was a static camera filled with static, as the thing had ripped whatever it was away from the wall.

The gathered team stared at the picture, which slowly reset and repeated again and again. The darkened images conveyed a sense of foreboding even from upon the screen down to the group of people sitting in their comfortable chairs. Director Meyers stopped pacing back and forth and looked out to the rest of the group he had gathered.

“This was taken approximately one hour ago by a surveillance camera underthe drainage system that we had hooked up to our system. Location was half a kilometer from the Halls Of the Dead. Heading towards it, from beneath. We don’t know if Damien had any idea. This took even us completely by surprise.”

As the senior members sank back down into their seats and began murmuring, a younger and newer entry into the elite group spoke up. “But Director, what was it? What were those?”

Meyers pulled his fist over his mouth. Sighing, he gradually let the clenched fist back down to his side, before raising his view to the young man who had spoken. With a voice that was unnaturally calm, given the circumstances, he replied, a somber expression settling over his face. “Son, those are strikers. Less then 100 of those managed to help take down Damien for a period. They can cut through Death Dealer, man, and Sentinel almost as f they’re not there. Those are your worst nightmare; indeed, the worst nightmare of the world. And now there are thousands. And they’re all headed for Damien. May the Devil save him, for God cannot if he’s still there.”

The aging Director of the STJPI shook his head, hand running through his graying hair, head downcast. Turning away, he let out a long sigh. After a moment of dead silence, he turned, and with a frown upon his face spoke again. “It’s progressed far enough. I don’t give a damn what Dreadfire said before. They most certainly cannot handle that themselves. 48 hour notice to everyone. All non-essential base personnel are leaving. This is what we were designed to fight. I can only hope it was good enough of a design.”

+Tag+ Very nice.

The One charged through the Striker ranks, slashing and tearing about as bodies piled up behind him. Indeed his strength and speed were easily that of the Strikers, and he barreled towards Rayne with unrelenting aggression and great agility. He raised his sabre high above his head and prepared to strike down upon Rayne's head, but as the blade fell she lifted her right hand and grabbed hold of the blade. It did not cleave her flesh or even leave an imprint, and yet another evil grin crossed her face.

She then yanked her arm off to the side, sending The One hurdling towards the wall wih great speed. Moments before impacting he dematerialized, and the smoke from his disappearing act broke upon the wall and faded away. Thinking all was well, Rayne began moving across the hallway towards the entrance of the Great Hall, but after the first few steps the stone walls exploded into a thousand pieces, and The One came charging out with a fierce scream and even more determination.

Crafty little bastard.

She chuckled to herself. Come now, lapdog of Dreadfire....let me show you my new power. When first you vanquished me, I was but weak flesh. Now, I am so much more.

The skin on Rayne's right arm fell to the ground with a squishy thud, and her bones began cracking and breaking as they expanded and grew in length. Her nails also grew in length and became almost metallic in nature, and her arm was now almost the size of her entire body. Large, muscular, and throbbing, she swung at The One fiercely and repeatedly until it was becoming hard for even him to parry her attacks. The battle carried on for several minutes until a wild and powerful swing caught The One by surprise and knocked him down to the ground with major force. The One was out cold and unable to move, and with a nod from her head the Strikers took him and chained his entire body. They injected a glowing serum into his neck in order to keep him in a comatose state, and having done that The One was carried off into the darkness by his new host. With The One out of the way, Rayne's arm returned to it's normal state, and new skin instantly was formed.

Having seen most of the Death Dealers slain or retreat and The One now rendered ineffective, Rayne surveyed the destruction of her new residence. More Strikers had been lost than she had anticipated, but it would only be a slight setback. The people of AMF would probably not welcome her back with open arms, but she still had close ties with numerous clans around the country, and over the recent months she had her messengers summon forth what are now to be her new cabinet members. It was mere minutes after the fighting ceased that armored cars stopped in front of the Great Hall, and out of them stepped several groups of men. The walked through the open doors and upon seeing Rayne bowed respectfully.

Welcome gentlemen. I assume everything has gone well on your end?

OOC: Said it before and I'll say it again. Write a novel. Please!

(OOC: *Nods vigorously in agreement*)

OOC: I had a friend who died a few days ago Celack. Give me some time.

Ok, no more OOC clutter from me. Post will be up in a day or two.

(OOC: I'm very sorry to hear that. :()

OOC: Thank you RB.

Here is the new thread, mostly with the political stuff. This will still be the main story thread.

http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=391482

The One had been neutralized. The strange nano-serum injected into his neck kept him in a deep sleep, making it impossible for him to move or even dematerialize. He was taken into the dark hole that the Strikers burrowed through the Great Hall by several of Rayne's unworldly cronies, and there the experimentation began. Strange machines powered by what appeared to be raw spiritual energy were brought to life, and The One was strapped in securely and another does of nano-serum was given to him.

Electronic readouts of The One's every detail were made, and the scientists that Rayne had turned to her side began trying to figure out how to harness and control a being such as The One Who Shall Remain Unnamed. If the King of the Death Dealers could be turned, he would be a most invaluable ally to Rayne. Long into the night the machines ran, taking samples of his DNA and bodily fluids in order to learn it's origin. The results kept coming back 'inconclusive', so another method was then applied.

A small band of high priests were brought in along with several large black books. After setting up shop, the priests began their unholy conjuring with assistance of the various machines The One was plugged into. As the dark rituals continued on, The One began twitching and thrashing ever so slightly as the very spiritual fabric of his being was stretched and torn. The priests hoped to soon break him down and 'reprogram' him using their dark methods, for if they were successful Rayne would have a very powerful new weapon at her disposal. Only time and the strength of the Dread Fires would determine how long The One could hold out.



+++++++++++++++++++++++

OOC: Short post, I know. Trying to figure out what to do next.

Telegram <Level 1 Security>
From: President/United Republics
To: Warlord/AMF

Warlord Damien Dreadfire,

For quite some time, our two nations have had a schism between each other over various matters of governance. However, even now there is still one memory from your nation that invokes the animosity of many of our nation's brass, above all other actions, that of the former Warlord Rayne. Although the Automagfreek Campaign (Operation Shining Fury) was a success, it still brought hard times unlike anything seen before onto our greatest Mobile Suits.

I write to you today with a heavy hand. There is... reason to believe to believe, according to trusted intelligence sources from inside the militaries of other nations, as well as civilian orbital sattelite energy monitors from our own nations and agents who have corroborated reports that, there is a high level of energy expenditure inside your nation, at levels and frequencies that our nation has only seen once before. Only during Operation Shining Fury. Although we cannot truly say for certain whether Rayne has returned, we believe it is imminent that we set aside our differences temporarily and determine- and eliminate, if absolutely necessary- the cause of this strange occurrence.

-President Nova Starfighter, United Republics of Tiburon