NationStates Jolt Archive

Isla del Enfermo

Two islands sitting off the western coast of Costa Rica, Isla Nublar and Isla Sorna, are the center of this roleplay story. Both of them were Costa Rican territory, therein Colodian territory. Purchasing of them by the Layartebian government allowed the Layartebian government to establish what was highly necessary. Isla Nublar is one hundred miles to the west of the Coasta Rican coast. Eighty-seven miles to the southeast is Isla Sorna. Isla Nublar is one hundred and eighty-seven square miles and Isla Sorna is one hundred and fifty square miles. Both of them are uninhabited and if you do recognize the names, they are from Jurassic Park, except that there won't be any dinosaurs. This is far more sickening and disturbing.

Lastly, before you read please do not pass any judgement that this will be a pathetic post. If you must have a reference, please go to to the list below and you will see the abilities of me to tell a story. I am a writer.
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Legend
All text in red type is top secret classified. It is unknown to the normal reader and even anyone else other than those present in the text. All are loyal to the government so please none of that, "We had spies" nonsense because I'm going to ignore it.

Italic text is text that is speech. It is italic to differentiate from normal text.

Italic underlined text is thought.

Small, green text is documents, communications, etc.

Bold, small, green text in quote form is used to mean something that isn't in the document.

Blue text is just a minor announcement.

Bold, blue text is a service announcement meant in OOC form
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Notes

This will be updated on an irregular basis. Pictures may be included with horrible images of death but I will try to keep away from that and keep it PG-13. If there is ever something that violates NS rules (and no nothing illegal will be had here) please inform me and I'll take care of it. An example is in Part II with the test subjects. I could not find any images on the internet of what it would look like to be exposed to something like Ebola and even if I did they would be horrible images so in the interest of stomachs and decency I have just put in a small comment. Swearing will be curbed and if anything you will see the first letter and asteriks at least so you know the word they are saying. If you are offended don't read! Simple as that.
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Other Role-Playing Stories

Sehnsucht für das Glück (http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=386920)
The Kingdom of Forgotten Warriors (Earth II) (http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=380343)
The Knight of Dark Chaos (http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=384906)
The Layartebian Chronicles (http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=384916)

Table of Contents


Part I: Awakenings (Page 1)
Part II: Lost Souls
Part III: Beginnings of a Kingdom

Characters


Colonel Michaels: Area 1057 base commander.

Organizations


Area 1057: Codename for Isla Nublar base.

Part I: Awakenings

It was sunny that morning, a balmy 85°F on Isla Nublar. Construction crews had just finished the last project, the final guard towers. The island was a teardrop, thicker to the northern end than the southern end. On the southern end was the only construction on the entire island and it cut off about ten square miles of the southern tip, water on three sides, land on one side. Those ten square miles included a small airport, large enough for a C-130J Hercules, a small port, and a command center. The 3,200 foot runway was just enough for a C-130J to take off. The C-130J would only need 1,400 feet to land. The port was well enough off to take a small to medium sized cargo ship, nothing of great size or significance. The command center, on the other hand, was a fortified structure, between the port and the airport. It had a communications center with satellite uplink equipment. The entire base area, airport, port, and command center, would be home to some one hundred and eighty men. A concrete wall, some two feet thick, and fifty feet high, ran the entire length of the northern edge of the base. This was meant to keep those inside the base in and those outside of the base, out.

A single C-130J Hercules was sitting on the runway when the last of the workers finished the final guard post. There were only forty of them and they were all packed and ready. All they had to do, upon completion, was to leave. Those were their orders and they would follow them. The island was hell to them. Two tropical storms and a hurricane had killed fourteen of them throughout the course of the project. The island was nicknamed "Isla del Maldecido" or "Island of the Cursed." The workers were all too happy to leave.

When the C-130J bolted down the runway and finally lifted into the sky, the workers in the cargo hold did nothing less than scream for joy. "Hooray!' They all screamed as the C-130J banked and headed towards El Salvador. Overall, some two thousand workers had been on that island, most of them leaving after the airport was fully completed. Now the last of them were going home and they were finally off the God-forsaken island that prayers and wishes meant nothing.

The commander of the base, which would be codename, Area 1057, was Colonel Michaels, a twenty-year veteran as a biological weapons officer. What was coming to this island was far worse than the biological weapons he had worked with, far worse indeed! His entire staff was brought in as the workers left. Two C-130Js came in, landing one right behind the other, taxiing to the tarmac where they offloaded. A podium and chairs were set up for the welcome ceremony. A breeze of five knots blew in from the sea as they all sat down, Colonel Michaels and his immediate command staff at the podium. "Men. You have all been selected for this duty not because of doubt or because of loss. You have all been selected for this duty because you all volunteered for the Layartebian military after your service was up. You showed dedication and you are mine now. This facility is secure and will remain secure. The enemy that you will face on the other side of that wall," he pointed to the concrete wall a mile away, clearly visible, "is not a conventional enemy. They may be people you know. They may be your family. They may be your friends. But they are already dead. It is our job to ensure that they die away from humanity. Your job will be to maintain this island, to ensure that no one escapes, to ensure that no one breeches that wall, to ensure that no one survives! It is a duty that does not come lightly but I have faith in all of you as men and as soldiers in the Layartebian military. You are all welcomed here, to this island and to this facility. I ask only the respect that you would give to your own father. As long as you respect me, as your commander, we shall have no problems. This is the military men. It is not a democracy!" With that he sat down and the watch commander dismissed everyone to their posts. The barracks facility at the command center was underground, constructed well. It had enough space to hold all one hundred and eighty men but it would only ever hold sixty at any given time.

Every eight hours, sixty men would leave their posts and the next sixty would come on. The three groups would have sixteen hours off and eight hours on. They would spend six months of the year at this post, three months on, three months off, three months on, and three months off. It would be an easy job, or so they thought...

They were there eleven days before the first "Cursed 130" landed. That was they nickname they gave the C-130Js that would come in the hundreds. On board this one was only twenty people, ten men and ten women. All of them had gone through rough interrogation and were broken. Their arms were black and blue from the needles they were given, mostly used to withdraw blood.

http://www.theforsakenoutlaw.com/Graphics/Nation-States/Role-Playing/Isla%20Del%20Enfermo/c130j-b.jpg

When the C-130J came to a stop on the tarmac, six men, all armed with M30A3 Assault Rifles. They were also wearing standard biological containment uniforms. "Everyone. Step out of the cargo hold and form a line here." A soldier with a bullhorn said. He repeated himself one more time as the ten men and women reluctantly stepped out. It was 1000 and they had been awake for the duration of the flight and the sixteen hours prior to that of final interrogation. They were paranoid and nervous, twitchy and simmering. "Please get into the vehicle single file." A M813 5-ton truck was waiting, an HMMWV in front of it and one behind it, both armed with fifty-caliber M2HB machine guns. The six men crewed the two HMMWVs, another two sitting inside the M813 waiting to go. The ten men and women were scared beyond belief and they got in without hesitation. The goal of interrogation was to break their spirits, to remove their humanity, to make them unable to fight back. It had worked.

The convoy took off minutes later, moving towards the processing center at forty-five miles per hour. It was a two mile drive, a minute and a half total. There weren't any stop signs, traffic lights, or vehicles to get in the way. It was a straight ninety seconds, the longest of their lives. When they pulled up, another four soldiers stood with rifles and biological containment suits. "Everyone please step out and form a single line. Follow us." The ten men and women followed, their heads down, unable to look up. The processing center was a giant clean room. The hallways were bright and isolated from the outside air. Air locks at every entrance and exit sterilized those coming in and kept the inside air bacteria and virus free. There were no windows and the entire building was under high pressure, keeping the outside air from coming in. It was the second largest part of the command site and was two levels up and six levels down. The ten men and women were walked down to the fourth subterranean level. There, they were cataloged and the information on them that was previously sent, was filed. They sat down in a large auditorium style room, enough for ninety people. It was one of four such rooms.

"Alright everyone take a seat there. Good." They sat down in the auditorium. "Welcome to Isla Nublar. You are all here because you are unfit for society. You will be here for the duration of your natural life. There are several rules that you must all learn before you leave this room. First, when you are on this island, you are on your own. Second, coming to within four hundred meters of the defensive wall will result in serious consequences. Third, there is no escape. Any attempt will result in serious consequences. And last, there is no communication. You are here and nobody knows it. Nobody cares and nobody will come looking for you. With that, you are group one. Remember that as new people arrive. Enjoy your stay and may God have mercy on your souls." The ten men and women moved, breathed, sighed, or motioned not. They weren't even human anymore.

They were moved out of the processing facility and brought back to the airfield. The C-130J had parked and was in the process of being cleaned. Two more aircraft, helicopters, were sitting and waiting. They were UH-95A Huey IIs and they could hold up to fourteen passengers in addition to the two pilots. Armament consisted of two HMP-400 12.7MM gun pods with four hundred rounds each and two LAU-68 2.75" Hydra rocket pods with seven rounds per pod. The ten people were split up, five per helicopter. The two pilots and two more soldiers with rifles, all in biological suits, were the only other people aboard the aircraft. The UH-95As lifted off and headed to the east. They would travel to the waterline and then go north. When they were sufficiently inside the island, they would turn west and go to a designated drop spot, one of eighteen that were cleared for helicopter landing.

http://www.theforsakenoutlaw.com/Graphics/Nation-States/Role-Playing/Isla%20Del%20Enfermo/UH-1Yhuey_9.jpg

Both helicopters were low, at five hundred feet, moving at one hundred miles per hour. They moved about ten miles to the center of the island and turned west, where they'd fly to the very center of the island, where a landing base was established. It was essentially just a cleared area of the jungle covered in cement. The two helicopters descended slowly and touched down. The doors were thrown open and the two soldiers with rifles stepped out. "Alright. Welcome to the rest of your eternity." They said as the ten men and women stepped out. The two soldiers stepped back into the Hueys and they took off again, back to the airfield.

The first group was on the island. Nobody knew they were there, that was the truth. Nobody would come look for them and nobody cared. When the Hueys landed, they were cleaned and the crew members went back to their daily jobs. It was just another day at the island, one that would become one of thousands.

tag

tag

See I ran out of ideas for the Kingdom of Forgotten Warriors. Now I got this.

See I ran out of ideas for the Kingdom of Forgotten Warriors. Now I got this.

ooc: Yeah, it looks good. Can you have something about me/a ship of mine visiting or something? I'd love to be involved in one of those tales of yours...

We could in the future but let me get the island well off. Perhaps a pirate ship? But I warn you, what's going onto this island is not pretty.

We could in the future but let me get the island well off. Perhaps a pirate ship? But I warn you, what's going onto this island is not pretty.

Understood.

I'd also like to participate in some way. Clipperton Island is not far off from these two.

When and if you'd like me to contribute, I will. But until then, I'm happy just reading.

Tag

Part II: Lost Souls

"Mark. Honey? It's time to go for the testing." Since the recent figures came out about the rate of STD infections in Layarteb, the government had used some of its saved money for the funding of complete blood tests for all its billions of citizens. It had cost a significant amount of money and it bit heavily into the "Rainy Day" fund of the government. But it was something that was necessary. However, the press and the public knew not the ulterior motives of the government in these tests. "Mark. Come on. It's time to go." His mother nagged him from the kitchen. Mark was sixteen, still in high school, and he knew what they were going to find. The previous summer he had been with a girl who turned out to have HIV. He knew he had it, he just didn't want to know. "Mark. Now. You're appointment is for 1 o'clock and you're going to be late!"

"Alright mom. I'm coming." He left his room and put on his jacket, his mother handing it to him, holding the keys to the car in her hands. "Do we have to do this? I'm alright."

"You know there's no sense arguing with the government. It'll all be over in a few hours."

"I wish." He knew that it wouldn't be. The place they went to was a local clinic, designed for blood donations and minor treatments, nothing too complex. Upon entering, they sat down in the waiting room, behind some forty people, all scheduled for 1 o'clock.

"Honey. Why are you nervous?"

"Mom. I don't know. I just am."

"They're not going to find anything. Are they?"

"No Mom." That was one of the few times he had ever lied to his mother. No Mom they won't. They'll find everything. He was in and out by 2 o'clock and back home by 2:30.

Later that evening

"Give me tube 1308."

"Sure thing John." John and Ashley were two doctors working at the clinic, analyzing the blood samples from that day. They'd been working non-stop for the past week and were grateful that they only had to send, thus far, eighteen results, to the national medical directorate. A division of the directorate was established with the incurables. Names were being taken and people would be "removed" from society, quickly and efficiently. "Here." She handed him the tube.

He put the tube into a special machine that was analyzing the blood. Two hundred drops were tested inside of an hour. The final result came through on a small print-out. It said only one thing, "Code 2022-666." That meant only one thing, HIV positive. "We got one. 1308 is HIV positive." The doctor sighed. This would make number nineteen. The medical file was immediately called and the data sent to the directorate.

Shortly before midnight

"Aright men. This is the place. We're going to apartment 4B. Keep at the ready men." Seven men from Force Tornado stood in the entrance of the apartment building. They were dressed like SWAT members and donned M43A5 submachine guns. One of them had a tranquilizer gun. They ascended the stairs quickly and quietly, going up to the fourth floor where they moved to 4B. They checked the hallway first to see what was going on but did not stay too long. A swift kick to the door destroyed it and the metal bar behind it. The commotion immediately awoke seven of the people on the floor, all of whom opened their doors. Two of the soldiers standing outside of 4B yelled at them to go back into their apartments, that the matter was not their business.

Inside, the five men split into two teams and moved through the living room and into the open kitchen. Mark's mother shot out of her bedroom with a baseball bat in her hands. "GET OUT OF MY F****** HOUSE!" She yelled as she swung at them. A well placed shot into her abdomen by the tranquilizer dart put her out faster than she could imagine, falling to the floor like a lifeless corpse. Mark, on the other hand, was sitting inside his room, a sword in his hand, one that his father had given him for his twelfth birthday. When his door was kicked in, he came swinging. The men of Force Tornado were well accustomed to situations like this and acted quickly, putting another tranquilizer dart in the boy's stomach. Lucky for him the man at the door caught him or else he would have fallen onto his own sword.

"Alright we've got him. Dumbass almost fell on the sword. That'll teach him! Let's move." Waiting outside was an M2010A1 Bushmaster IMV. Inside the Bushmaster was only the driver. The seven men of Force Tornado took up another seven seats and the boy took up the ninth seat. "Alright let's move to the processing center." They took off and headed towards the processing center, which was only about three miles away, one of the many inside the entirety of the Empire. In each major city, there were at least four of them. This one, was one of the newest.

The Bushmaster stopped at a loading dock and backed in. "We've got one." The team commander said over the radio as the back door opened. They opened the Bushmaster rear door and stepped out, carrying the boy. They were all vaccinated heavily, everyone in the armed services was. They carried him to a holding cell in one of the basements. He was thrown into it and left in the dark room. He'd wake up in four hours and then never sleep again.

The four hours went by fast for the kid. But when he woke up, groggy as if he had been hit by a bus. "Where am I?" He muttered. As he became more alert he struggled to his feet and moved to the door, slowly, but collapsed in front of it. He banged on it and no one answered. He banged again, "Let me out!" He yelled.

Then, the door was pulled open, nearly tossing him on his face on the floor. The man at the door was a member of the processing facility. "Ah, I see you're awake. Good." He picked up the boy and threw him into the corner. "You are nothing more than a filthy rat. Sit there and think about it. Disgusting rat. You think you're human? You think you're a person? You're nothing you piece of trash! You're worthless and everyone knows it." The boy began to cry.

"No I'm not. I'm not worthless!" He cried and sobbed.

The man gave him a kick to the leg. "What a worthless piece of garbage."

"No."

"Yes. Piece of crap. I hope you learned what you did." He kicked him again and then again in the chest before he walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Every twenty minutes for the next three days, he received that treatment until he finally agreed. He hadn't slept a wink in those three days. When he finally agreed with the man he was pulled out of the room and hosed down. First he was taken into a cold room and sprayed with scolding hot water. Then he was given soap to clean himself. The rinse down was with water just above freezing. He had been stuck with a needle before hand, one with a vaccine for pneumonia. He was then taken out of the room, given half torn clothes and thrown into another holding cell, one that was a temperature room. For the next three days he spent twelve hours at a temperature of forty degrees, then twelve hours at a temperature of one hundred and four days. The process repeated in that fashion. He was given water to keep him hydrated in the heat and would huddle in the corner to stay warm.

Those six days were hell on the boy, who now just repeated to himself, "I'm worthless. I'm not a human. I am a rat. A filthy, disgusting rat." His spirit had been easy to break, much easier than some of the other people that had come through here. Finally, on the seventh day, he was pulled into the interrogation room and subject to six hours of intense interrogation. Questions ranged from who he was with, how he got HIV, who he gave it to, and how he knew he had it were asked repeatedly, more than once, to test the consistency of his answers.

On the ninth day, the interrogation ended and the kid was put back in the holding cell. He had been given clean clothes and food, something he craved. He still hadn't slept and now would be his only time to, it was a reward for his cooperation in interrogation. Then he was shipped out again, onboard the Bushmaster IMV, around the same time that the person who gave him the disease was rounded up as well. The boy was taken to a military airstrip outside of Dayton, Ohio. He was put aboard a Boeing 747, along with some one hundred and eighty others, flown down to Santa Ana, El Salvador. There, he and the others were put aboard C-130Js and flown to Isla Nublar, where they, the second group, would begin the rest of their natural lives.

TAG, looks very good, keep it up!

Part III: The Beginning of a Kingdom

There were three hundred people on the island now, scattered in three different areas, unevenly split: sixty-eight, one twenty-four, and one hundred and eight. The three groups were in the center of the island, the western coast, and the northern coast, respectively. The center group had remnants of the first and second drop. The other two were spanning the third through eleventh drops. Between the eleven drops, some fifteen hundred people had been deposited on the island. The three hundred that remained were the strongest, all infected though.

The three hundred of them that remained were still scared. The three groups though evolved into the next stage of their visit, the organization phase. Amongst them there were leaders, those type A personalities that came about and who wanted off the island, as best they could. They had first led their groups to shelter, using caves and other nooks in the hills and mountains for their shelter.

Now came the beginnings. The three groups met simultaneously, under the veil of a horrendous thunderstorm, unknown to each other. They organized within themselves, pledged survival, and sought freedom. Within themselves, they formed tribes, three of them to be precise. The goals were simple, any new arrivals would be welcomed. The more of them there were, the more of a fight they could mount against the Layartebian guards on the other side of the wall, the wall which they knew all too well of. Of the twelve hundred that died, six hundred tried to breech the wall, an amazingly horrendous rate. They had moved there in some twenty groups, moved south to the wall via starlight navigation. The North Star was behind them and they kept walking. Sniper shots and machine gun fire slaughtered them, leaving the bodies sitting on the ground, rotting slowly and being pecked at by the forest animals.

But this night, this wet night, those of the three tribes sought what they wanted to seek, complete and total freedom. The tribes within themselves formed well. They sought out materials to build and maintain their shelters as well as to expand them. They would need to dig deeper into the hills, mountains, and ground to fit the people that would be coming, the new arrivals as they would be called from so on and so fourth, as time progressed.

Each group of new arrivals was more manpower. Eventually they would be capable of attacking and succeeding, as far as they thought. And so it began, the beginnings of the kingdom, a kingdom of the diseased.

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At the main base, the processing center was alive. Another shipment of individuals had come in, thirty-eight in total, dropped in by C-130J Hercules. Force presence has been increased. The two UH-95A Huey II helicopters were now doubled to four and six AH-94A Stalker attack helicopters were brought in as well. The six hundred "islanders," as they would be called by the military presence, scared them well. They imagined some would try to breech the wall but so many was a wake up call. And lastly, a C-130J Hercules would always be on the tarmac for emergency drops. Dropping by helicopter was becoming too difficult with such large numbers. What they could do is load everyone in the back of the C-130J, tied them together, fly low over the field, throw out a drogue chute, and let them all survive amongst themselves. At the very least, one out of every six would die. They would just execute them all but it turned out to be more costly than to just stick them on this island, certainly irony.

The military presence was bolstered along with the aircraft. The base commander, Colonel Michaels, was pleased to see the force increase. Overlooking the documents of the supplies that he would be receiving, he couldn't help but crack a smile. I've got a small army here, enough to annihilate a small country. The storm continued that evening and into the night and morning. It rained in the gallons, the wind rustling up everything that wasn't held down, and the lightning so bright that it lit up the pitch black island.

Thunder clapped every few seconds, followed by the flashes of the lightning. The night sky was unforgiving. As the Stalker crews overlooked the ordinance supply list, which included a small amount of Wizard air to air missiles, a good amount of Hydra rocket pods, and a decent amount of Hellfires with high-explosive and thermobaric warheads, gunfire echoed from the wall. The first shots that rang out were the tell tale ones from the M41 semi-automatic sniper rifle. The second groups were from an M35 Light Machine Gun. Each shot from the M41 and M30 Assault rifle was a single shot, the men guarding the wall being expert marksmen. The shots from the M35s were in groups of five. That went on for about ten minutes until another one hundred and twenty-four people were lying dead by the wall. The status report was sent in immediately to Colonel Michaels, who laughed. When will they learn??? He asked himself as he made a note in his journal. It was short and simple:



Wednesday, 2 March 2005

Another one hundred and twenty-four cursed shot & killed at the wall. Seven hundred and twenty-four in total. 2203.

He was done with that for now and as he was with the paperwork. It was bed time now and he would be lucky if he got any sleep at all.

Wow, this is the biggest and best human rights violation I've ever seen. Congratulations, Layarteb.

Kreynoria']Wow, this is the biggest and best human rights violation I've ever seen. Congratulations, Layarteb.

I'll continue this one day.

Wow, nice one Layarteb ... Tag

10-month bump