NationStates Jolt Archive

231km South of Tenos City
Subterranean Research Facility Alpha CX43



Daily Journal, Made Yesterday at 9:26
User: L. Knowlson, Clearance: Level 6

Operation Itero has commenced, and is proceeding as planned. First we shall begin with B.I., and follow up with M.I. or possibly something from Class 2. I am uneasy about this, especially the Class 3 stuff… don’t get me started on Class 4, I’m surprised they haven’t shut this down already. Its dangerous and they damn well know it.

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Daily Journal, Made Yesterday at 11:53
User: L. Knowlson, Clearance: Level 6

This is going nowhere. It should be abandoned before anyone gets hurt, or worse. Still, it should have never got this far in the first place; something has to be done about this madness.

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Daily Journal, Made Yesterday at 13:47
User: L. Knowlson, Clearance: Level 6

Its wrong, fundamentally this will never work! We are at the pinnacle as it is and this is just asking for something bad to happen. Still, I am interested in its full capabilities of the Project and am now eagerly awaiting Class 3. Needless to say, Class 1 was a huge success and Class 2 is in progress now.

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Daily Journal, Made Yesterday at 19:32
User: L. Knowlson, Clearance: Level 5

It appears my scepticism about the Project has been noticed, and my Access to Floors B7 and B8 has been revoked, so I’m back to Level 5 and having to do my work on B6. Although I am having second thoughts on this matter, I will stick it through to the end without a doubt.

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Daily Journal, Made Today at 6:21
User: L. Knowlson, Clearance: Level 5

The Project Administrator visited us at B6 today, and spoke with Inyus about something. Not sure where this is all going, but results for Class 3 are incredible. There have been rumours of including a Class 5, but we would have surely tested everything by the end of Class 4…

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Daily Journal, Made Today at 14:58
User: L. Knowlson, Clearance: Level 5

This is unbelievable; we need to rebuild the whole Preliminary Database due to a system crash on B4. Never mind though, I needed an excuse to redo the Chart Template, as all current readings are way off the scale. Class 5 has been confirmed, although its contents have not.

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Daily Journal, Made Today at 20:01
User: L. Knowlson, Clearance: Level 7

Well, they listened to me about the charts thing, and they put me up to Level 7 there and then. I get my Dossier tomorrow morning, which should detail my new duties, privileges and access areas. Pay is up, but the afternoon break has been taken off everyone’s timetable. They say it’s to increase the work-rate.

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Liam Knowlson was a normal enough Concremian, aged 32 and working for the NCSC. Established in the late 1970’s, the National Concremian Science Corporation was the lead pharmacist and hospital owner of the country. It was a sister-Corporation to the Concremian Firearms, and between them were many smaller companies involved in everything insurance to paint balling.

He stood from his computer desk, and walked back towards the elevator. He got off at B2, and found his room. It was a simple room, one bed, one desk, one chair, one wardrobe and one computer was in one room, with an archway leading to a small bathroom containing the usual. His computer here was not on the NCSC system, and kept for his own private projects. He fancied himself as an amateur writer, with three short stories and a novel written but never sent to a publisher.

Liam’s real talents were is Science though, and a healthy paycheck kept him talented. Eight years of specialised training in Biology, another four years studying Chemistry and two years in Psychology, he was one of the best-qualified Doctors in the whole complex.

He couldn’t sleep. Haunting visions plagued him, mocking him as they chased him through the frozen wastes of the Northlands. He slipped, and fell as he tumbled down a steep hill and rolled into some long grass. Liam stood, and saw his house. His old house, the one he grew up in with his parents and two brothers. ‘Strange’, he thought, ‘I don’t remember their names…’

He sat up from his half-sleep, the shadows seemed to come to life in front of him as he grabbed his stained lab-coat and headed for the elevator. It was locked down, so he took the stairs and went as fast as he could to B8. He was in a trance, still partly in his dream world, as he picked up a crowbar and stepped into the Primary Operations Area. The case lay in front of him, in the middle of the room surrounded by computers and wires. It was cylindrical, eight feet long and three foot six in diameter.

It was cold to the touch, and he wiped over the glass to clear the condensation. The word ITERO was engraved into the glass. Liam smiled weakly to himself, and tapped on the glass. Something tapped back.

He awoke in his bed, and checked his clock. 10 am, he overslept. ‘There would be hell to pay for this,’ he though, as he sat on his bed, recounting his nightmare from last night. ‘Strange…’ he thought, as he had not bothered to undress from when he got in.

He stood, wincing in pain as he looked at his hand. There were marks. They were bite marks.

TAG-a-licious. Looks like the start of a great RP.

OOC: so, how would someone get involved in this RP?

TAG-amazing and gripping so far

ooc: This is all merely a prequel to a thread I will be making next weekend. Before fully understanding this, you must have a decent knowledge of Concremian History (there is a thread on it somewhere). This is without doubt my best RP so far.

ic:

He reported in as ill, and washed the wound. He frightfully remembered the time when Robert got his arm mangled by a Class 3 weapon. Or so he said he had. He was taken away later that day and had not been seen since. Liam was determined to investigate, he remembered the night vaguely, the Chamber, those eyes…

He would go again tonight, he had to put a stop to this. A sudden flashback hit him, Latin lessons at school, when he was a teenager. Itero: To repeat an action. His blood ran cold. He knew which action they would repeat, and he had to stop them at all costs. He would not let them do this.

Liam bandaged his hand and went to sleep, setting his alarm for 1am tonight. He would need all the sleep he could get, as he would probably be running and hiding from the NCSC for the rest of his life.

His alarm chirped quietly, and was quickly silenced by his good hand. He crept out of the room and made his way down the hall. He stopped by an encased Fire Axe, but thought better of it. Breaking the glass would likely set off alarms, and that was the last thing he wanted now.

Liam broke into a run when he got to the stairs, going down to B8 once more. It was if he was in a dream, his legs seemed to have a will of their own as he approached the Chamber. It appeared lifeless, but it was in there, he knew it.

He looked around for a makeshift weapon, and noticed a small grate in the floor. He peered through to the room below, and his mouth hung open in terror. It must be B9 down there, something even he didn’t know existed. But it was the contents that scared him most. There were hundreds, no thousands of them. The eerie frosted Chambers lined the walls, the pale faces staring back at him.

He threw up, through the grate and would have collapsed into it had a strong hand not gripped the collar of his lab-coat. A low growl sent hot air past his left ear, and he cowered at the mercy of The Project.

OOC: this is great stuff, I'm not gonna guess what the RPs gonna be about, but I'm bettin it'll be good.

OOC: For the convienence of my fellow taggers: the official Concremian History thread.

http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=425004

I think I can see the general idea of this, but I'll wait and see what happens before committing myself to any potentially stupid comments.

OOC: I'm pretty sure what's happening, but I won't say, cause it'd spoil it if I'm right.

ooc: Thanks Halberdgardia, the sequel to this will be a closed and loosely planned RP so if you want in TG me with your MSN and a link to one of you RPs.

ic:

Guards walked in through the double door. Not the guards that were patrolling the exterior, or keeping watch in the Restricted Areas, but real guards. Guards armed with assault rifles and issued armour that would make a tank commander feel vulnerable.

Ten of them entered, splitting up into groups of five and flanking him on both sides. But no weapons were raised, even when The Project let go of Liam and stood. ‘They’re scared of it’ he realised, as towering thing stood at exactly seven foot six.

For the first time he noticed that it was armoured, with some sort of thick leather that had metal plates in it. Bulletproof, no doubt and was marked with a white stencilled Code of K32HX-P1420.

General Dylans entered the circular room, the guards saluting him in unnerving unison. To Liam’s surprise, The Project saluted too, though not as rigidly as the guards had. It was not the first time he had seen The Project, but usually it was in the Test Room, with several billions worth of security measures between them.

“Liam Knowlson, Number N06RX-S1420, occupant of Room 132. Explain yourself.” The General commanded, as Liam kneeled and formed a weak salute.
“We… we have to stop it… Its dangerous you know exactly what will happen! What they will… will do to us, you know! We did it to them! We drove them away to their deaths, as they will to us! Don’t… don’t you see? Don’t you understand what we have done!

The General stepped forward and kicked Liam in the stomach hard.
“They left! You uneducated fool you know full well they followed that xenophobic bastard of their own free will! Every last one of them! Now explain yourself!”

Liam stood resiliently, and for the first time he got a good look at The Project. Its skin was tanned, somehow, and his features looked reptilian. It was very muscular, with a square jaw and broad shoulders. It smiled at Liam, revealing rows of needle-like teeth.

“Why? Why did you make them? For donkeywork? For soldiers? For slaves or test subjects?” He asked.

“For citizens, Knowlson. They will become part of our Nation, part of Concremo and they will be treated as any other citizen would! Because we are equal, we are superior to the humans that created us but we did not make their mistake, us and The Project, we are equal!” The General replied, as he paced around the room and waved his arms to get his point across.
“What does he know?” He asked the Project, who replied in a deep yet raspy voice.
“He found the others, and had intentions to destroy us.”
“Is this true?” He asked Liam, reaching for his sidearm
“I had no choice! They will be the death of us, just fucking listen they will kill us all and take our Nation for themselves! I know it!” He shouted frantically, his voice turning into a desperate whine, “No, I can still help just not with this… not with this…”
“Wrong answer, Knowlson, I am afraid that you are an extreme liability to The Project, The NCSC and The Cause, and you will be treated as such. Goodbye, Dr Knowlson.”

Without blinking he shot Liam where he stood, twice in the heart before signalling for two guards to dispose of the body.

“He could have lived. Been given a new start.” Said The Project, who was waved away by Dylans. The General turned to face the guard nearest the door, and told him to tell the Project Administrator to bring the deadline forward. He would have to get this finished before more staff got overly curious.

ooc: Thanks Halberdgardia, the sequel to this will be a closed and loosely planned RP so if you want in TG me with your MSN and a link to one of you RPs.


OOC: Does that mean that I'm gonna get in, since you already know how I RP?(Insert begging and whining here) I love the way this is starting and I hope I get to be involved with the RP.

I love the attention to detail and humanity you give your characters, very nice, well written.(no I'm not trying to suck up, I mean it)

ooc: Mini Miehm you are one of the best i have had the joy of RPing with here, and you are definately in. The sooner i get your MSN the sooner we can plan this out a bit.
I am, however, limiting this to 4 people other than myself. At time of writing, there is one slot free (if Mini Miehm is in).

ic:

Over the next few days some changes were made. Big changes. At almost random staff were given days off, promotions and night shifts, as well as the internal and external security tripled. Even more cameras were set up over night, with the alarm system almost completely redone and the guards given the latest weapon Concremian Firearms churned out.

It was four days after the incident in the Primary Operations Area, where the staff of Clearance 6 and higher were assembled in that very room. Several guards and military personnel accompanied them as they gathered around the Chamber in the middle.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, it is here today that I… General Dylans… present to you the final product of over twelve years of research, experiments and direct genetic manipulation. I give you, the Tulsa!”

The Chamber was raised by around four feet as it tilted forward by forty-five degrees. An ominous fog enveloped its base as the door hissed open, the first of the new Tulsa species stepping out to intense applause.

Genetically, they were but a slight alteration of the Daesus, with the only difference being that lizard-snake hybrid DNA had been used as a base. They were indeed equal to the Daesus, although lacking in academic intelligence they made up for it with physical strength, common sense and cunning.

It, designated a He by the General was wearing an ornate black and gold ceramic and leather armour that would set the style for formal clothing for the species.

“And now, I give you the new component to Concremian Society!” Dylans said, as the wall opposite the double door parted to reveal a balcony looking over the field of growth Chambers used in Operation Itero.

He sat at his desk, half a glass of scotch in one hand and progress report in the other. Dylans was not usually a drinking man, but the occasion had never been better. He was reading through the daily life support readings for the one hundred thousand Tulsa in Sector D, a quarter of the total.

Everything was great; these Tulsa would be a valuable part of the Republic of Concremo. He knew that they would not be hated or feared by the Daesus, as many of them would remember being feared by the Humans and what that lead to.

“Operation Itero…” He said to himself, swirling his glass and listening to the ice cubes chime. He took a sip, and sat back. It was not long now before they would be introduced to Concremo. And then the world.

He thought back with disgust to the initial planning stages, those high-up greedy warmongers were just looking for better soldiers. But Dylans got his way, he was not stupid and had used a careful blend of admiration, threats and outright force to climb the ranks and change the core fundamentals of Operation Itero.

Dylans dreamed of his ideal world, the not-so-distant future where Daesus and Tulsa were free and equal in the gigantic Fortress Cities of Concremo. But how would they get there? How do you introduce such a large amount of the Tulsa without unnerving the people?

He picked up another Dossier, this one was his favourite. It displayed the test results for Class 1 through 4, and always put a smile on his face.


Facility Alpha CX43
Final Progress Log

Class 1: Intelligence and Awareness
Overall Grade: 83%
-Basic Intelligence: 86%
-Problem Solving: 91%
-Philosophy Level: 71%
-Mechanical Ingenuity: 87%
-Strategic Thinking: 79%
-Memory Test: 85%

Class 2: Physical Strength and Agility
Overall Grade: 94%
-Weight Lifting: 97%
-Sprinting: 99%
-Endurance Running: 95%
-Pain Tolerance: 96%
-Acrobatics: 84%
-Obstacle Course: 94%

Class 3: Unarmed and Melee Combat
Overall Grade: 93%
-Weapon Adapting: 98%
-Shield Usage: 92%
-Unarmed Combat Score: 96%
-Edged Weapons Score: 89%
-Blunt Weapons Score: 96%
-Improvised Weapons Score: 91%

Class 4: Ranged Weapon Combat
Overall Grade: 92%
-Weapon Repairing: 92%
-Weapon Maintenance: 98%
-Pistol Score: 88%
-SMG Score: 97%
-Assault Rifle Score: 96%
-Sniper Rifle/DMR Score: 78%

TAG - Nice work as usual, good to have you as a new member in the guild.

OOC: I don't hjave MSN, I have AIM, ans YIM, but no MSN, I just don't like it.

ooc: awkward... we can either do it by TG or you can get MSN

ooc: awkward... we can either do it by TG or you can get MSN

OOC: TG, I despise MSN.

“Say that once more, Corporal, I think I misheard you…” Dylans said slowly, his head in his hands.
“Their… Their gone Sir… all of them.” He stuttered nervously.
Dylans shouted loudly and threw his empty glass at the Soldier in front of him.
“You fucking shit!” Dylans yelled, “Get out you worthless mothe-”

He was interrupted by his phone ringing, the blinking red light indicating that it was from the Project Administrator.
“Out!” He shouted at the young soldier, who was clutched his bleeding face in silent agony. Dylans picked up, and answered in a polite and sincere tone.
“Good day Sir, I’m afraid we have a situation here,” he said
“I know General, I have decided to bring the deadline forward again. To today.”
“What? Why was I not informed of this?” Dylans questioned.
“Because it was not something you needed to know. You’re on a new project now.”
“When will I get my Dossier?”
“It should be on your desk tomorrow morning. It would be sooner but you know how these things are. Its busy now.”
“Thank you Sir, I will await my instructions”
“Goodbye General Dylans,” came the reply, in an almost mocking tone.
The line went dead, which was odd as usually there would be a low hum. He dialled the number for his receptionist, to see if he could speed up that Dossier. Strange, still nothing on the phone. He hung up and tried again, then panicked. It had been cut, or disabled. Two years as a bodyguard taught him that. The General grabbed his weapon and made for the door, but it was locked from the other side. He was in deep shit he realised as he heard the knocking of an armoured fist against the door. He tipped over his desk and crouched behind it, hoping for protection from three inches of solid Oak.

They knocked again louder, as he gripped his pistol tightly and trained it on the door. He heard murmurs, and then a clicking sound as a key found the lock. The door handle seemed to swivel for an eternity, as he broke out into a cold sweat. The door swung open and he fired twice into thin air. No one was there, was he imagining it all? Had he snapped?

He turned around, and there behind him! He was face to face with a heavily armoured guard, who promptly hit Dylans in the stomach with the butt of his gun. The General went to the ground, winded, groping the floor for his weapon.

A merciless boot kicked it across the room, and an SMG he had never seen before was pointed at his head. They were his men for sure, but something had turned the entire compound against him.

“Say that once more, Corporal, I think I misheard you…” Dylans said slowly, his head in his hands.
“Their… Their gone Sir… all of them.” He stuttered nervously.
Dylans shouted loudly and threw his empty glass at the Soldier in front of him.
“You fucking shit!” Dylans yelled, “Get out you worthless mothe-”

He was interrupted by his phone ringing, the blinking red light indicating that it was from the Project Administrator.
“Out!” He shouted at the young soldier, who was clutched his bleeding face in silent agony. Dylans picked up, and answered in a polite and sincere tone.
“Good day Sir, I’m afraid we have a situation here,” he said
“I know General, I have decided to bring the deadline forward again. To today.”
“What? Why was I not informed of this?” Dylans questioned.
“Because it was not something you needed to know. You’re on a new project now.”
“When will I get my Dossier?”
“It should be on your desk tomorrow morning. It would be sooner but you know how these things are. Its busy now.”
“Thank you Sir, I will await my instructions”
“Goodbye General Dylans,” came the reply, in an almost mocking tone.
The line went dead, which was odd as usually there would be a low hum. He dialled the number for his receptionist, to see if he could speed up that Dossier. Strange, still nothing on the phone. He hung up and tried again, then panicked. It had been cut, or disabled. Two years as a bodyguard taught him that. The General grabbed his weapon and made for the door, but it was locked from the other side. He was in deep shit he realised as he heard the knocking of an armoured fist against the door. He tipped over his desk and crouched behind it, hoping for protection from three inches of solid Oak.

They knocked again louder, as he gripped his pistol tightly and trained it on the door. He heard murmurs, and then a clicking sound as a key found the lock. The door handle seemed to swivel for an eternity, as he broke out into a cold sweat. The door swung open and he fired twice into thin air. No one was there, was he imagining it all? Had he snapped?

He turned around, and there behind him! He was face to face with a heavily armoured guard, who promptly hit Dylans in the stomach with the butt of his gun. The General went to the ground, winded, groping the floor for his weapon.

A merciless boot kicked it across the room, and an SMG he had never seen before was pointed at his head. They were his men for sure, but something had turned the entire compound against him.

OOC: ooh, very nasty my friend, very nasty.

Dylans awoke in a very large cell, some hundred or so people with him. They were his colegues; the scientists, the exterior guards, administration personnel and the guys from R&D.

A large screen on the wall blared into life, with the grinning face of the Project Administrator.
"Now, Ladies and Gentlemen, your work here is done. We have further... uses for you in different areas, and rest assured you will not be harmed... needlessly." He chuckled, "No, you are all about to be re-educated, and transered to other stations. But... make one wrong move now and we could find more... hazardous occupations, such as a test subject for Project 2301, which some of you will encounter shortly. Proceed."

Upon his word the door opened, and two guards grabbed Dylans roughly. They forcefully brought him into a small, circular room and with a hand on the back of his neck they forced him to kneel down. One of them brought up a pair of goggles, and strapped them over his head.

He saw a bright white light, but for some reason his eyes could not close, or even squint. It turned red, then blue, and then back to white before dulling to grey and coming back to white again. There was a bright flash, and a mesmeric voice captivated him.

It seemed not to speak, but to be inside his head, a part of himself just uncovered.

"You will not remember anything from the past two years, because you were at war and suffered a heavy blow to the head. However, you still managed to save your entire squad, and recieved a promotion. You have been working on Project 2301 for exactly one week, and are well aquainted with all but the guards."

A list of personnel on the project flashed up, and was followed by their brief biographies and lots of pictures. His subconcious had taken over here, and soaked in every word of it. He felt dizzy, the room span and much, much more flashed up in front of him.

Another bright light hit him, and he awoke. Away from the snow, and Project 1420, he had a new future, with new projects.