NationStates Jolt Archive

OOC: This is a sort-of-followup to "Traitor. Hero." (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=437220) It's open after the first few serious posts, just to let the story gets moving.

IC:

Sorel, Savaron River
New Montreal States

With the end of the conflict against Intelligent Neighbors, the cleanup of the ravaged, drowned city of Sorel began. NMS soldiers, mostly veterans of the bitter battles that had almost broken the nation's defenses, were posted for security and cleanup duties. They had to keep looters out and ensure that rampant crime didn't break out among the refugees who were living on the outskirts of the city. Sainaman paramilitary forces from SAVX were also taking part in the task while the true SAVX military was busy with its own ordeals.

Countless civilian volunteers had offered their assistance, and with overwatch from the two nations' combined militaries, the process was running along fairly smoothly. Preliminary reports suggested that most of the biohazardous waste would be removed within a few weeks, and in another two months the rubble could be cleared out. For such destructive strife that preceeded the current situation, progress was surprisingly swift.

Among those nonmilitary personnel working in the mess was a particular man, a very odd man. He wore a tattered gray robe that covered almost his entire tall, lanky body; visible were only his hands and face, though his face was partially shrouded by a hood on the robe. The man's skin was wrinkled and scarred to such an extent that any single mark could barely be distinguished from the others, and his fingernails were long and cracked, colored a sort of diseased greenish-yellow. He was pigmented a jaundiced yellow-looking color, with brownish blotches at random locations. His face was the most deranged part, however: two blood-red eyes sat over a moderately-sized, crooked nose, while a pair of barely-existent, rubbery lips offered the only cover to his jumbled, inhumanly sharp, jagged teeth. The visage of this man was clearly something out of Hell.

He was in an area beyond the main force, untouched by cleanup crews and unsupervised by security personnel. With him was a large black, worn pickup truck, modified to handle the extremely soggy conditions. In the back of it was a large lidded metal tub with biohazard orchids painted around the sides. Lifting open the lid, the man slid in a bloated, decomposing body of a former IN soldier. There were a few others lying in the half-foot-deep water; all of them had, at least to whatever extent could be recognized, massive burns covering their bodies. Judging by their wounds and the charred but soggy wood of the surrounding buildings and debris, it was clear that they had been painfully killed in one of the many SAVX firestrikes.

The man proceeded to gingerly--lest the bodies rip apart due to their decomposed state--pick up and slide each one of the other corpses into the tub. When the area was clear, he resealed the tub and, glancing around one last time, got into the truck. He had collected a total of fifteen bodies, all dissolved or currently dissolving in the concentrated Aurix-221 (http://ns.goobergunch.net/wiki/index.php/Super_American_VX_Man#Aurix-221) solution the tub contained. Broken down into a liquidy pulp, the bodies were much easier to transport in larger quantities.

Making his way slowly through the mess of Sorel, the man came upon a security checkpoint manned by four NMS soldiers. When the soldiers signaled, the man stopped the truck. One soldier went over to the driver's side of the vehicle to address him. When he made eye-contact with the man's disfigured face, the soldier glanced away toward the tub in the back. He only dared to meet eyes twice more, and for as short a time as possible.

"Papers, sir."

The man in the truck reached for a few identification papers in the passenger seat and handed them to the soldier. The soldier glanced at them and, seeing nothing amiss, proceeded to the next step.

"Care if we check your, uh, cargo?"

When he replied, the man's voice was a sort of slithering whisper, slightly hoarse, and completely sinister.

"Of course. Go ahead."

The soldier nervously nodded at one of his comrades. The man was just a little too unsettling for the young soldier. As the other soldier checking the tub prepared to open the lid, the man leaned out the truck's window to address him. His face wore a knowing, evil grin.

"Be careful, there...the contents are rather harmful."

The soldier nodded and slowly opened the lid. When he got a whiff of what was inside, he immediately slammed it shut. It wasn't worth checking out more thoroughly.

"Alright...let him go."

The first soldier nodded and, backing up, waved the man on through. This was a mistake that he would regret for the rest of his life.

Rejean le Guiscard's life was one groggy mess after the past few months. No sooner had he gotten back from Krakk than Frog had appointed him as a sort of "inspector-without-portfolio" for the rebuilding. Endless surprise inspections and what at times seemed nothing more than pointless walking around. COBRA had been silent since he had joined, so he assumed that large periods of trudging around was part of the mission.

He walked into a jerryrigged barracks in what was former the headquarters of Entreprises Cryogeniques E&G, et cie., poured himself some coffee and sat down at the table for a break before heading back out onto the streets.

Andre Perrault, a young Lt. who had just graduated from the Academie De L'Armee before the war began, walked into the room. He had seen much more than his fair share of combat, both during the initial IN assault and during the stalemate along the Savaron that had leveled the city of Sorel.

"Bloody," he said, "Not another inspection?"

"Nope," said Rejean. "Just passing by, although now that you mention it, I should take a look at the logs before I go, so that I can justify this before the high and mighty."

"I know the feeling, believe me," said the Lt. as he opened up the locked cabinet that contained the logs for the checkpoints. "Here you go."

"Huh." Rejean passed over a mostly unusual entry. "1500 hours, Checkpoint 3A...that would be just along the border of no-man's-land...why was there a truck passing through there?"

"Nobody wanted to ask," said the lieutenant. "I debriefed the men involved. They said, and I quote, 'There was this ghastly smell, like everything nasty you've even gotten a whiff of. And the driver was even worse. Something out of a B-grade horror movie.' The feeling was general."

"Bloody conscripts," said Rejean. "I don't care if he smells like Satan's own armpits, someone like that needs to be pulled over, searched, his cargo searched and confiscated..."

He leaned back.

"At least they got a description...of sorts. No plates, no serial number, not even the maker of the truck, just 'a black beater with biohazard sticks on it, a large tub in the back'...great."

He got up and headed for the door. "I'm going to head back to headquarters and file a report on this guy. Tell those guards they're getting something unpleasant in their furture."

The Lt. saluted and headed for the soldier's quarters.

In the COBRA barracks three men sat around a small camping table. On that table was a small kettle which was slowly heating itself, and three small teacups were set around it.
‘So I said to him, look here old boy, I did not touch your lovely lady-friend, and I have no intention to.’ Spoke one, as he twiddled his handlebar moustache, his voice evidently polished from years of practise.
‘Uh-huh, and lemmie guess what happened next, he went and asked what was wrong with her...’ grinned another, his accent more “common” a rough Midlonian accent.
‘Indeed, so I tried to calm him down, but this big brute of a man starts yelling, saying I called her ugly and all this. I think he was an IH soldier or something, anyway, he eventually takes a swing at me.’
‘Wonder what happens next?’ laughed the brummie accented soldier.
‘Well, I grabbed his arm, snapped it, then threw him over the bar, and rather calmly walked out. I don’t know what happened afterwards.’

‘Well, Bradley, you hardly hung around afterwards, I did, bloody hell that was a mess, oh, tea up!’ the third spoke calmly, and motioned to the kettle which clicked audibly. He went back to polishing his dog tags which had “S. Smedly” embossed on then.
‘Yes, I suppose you’d better finish the story off, eh Steve?’ Replied Bradley as he poured the boiling water into the small cups.
‘Well, I was in a cubby, so I didn’t really see much like.’ Steve carried on, his accent similar to that of somebody from Newcastle. ‘Boot I sat there wi me pint and watched as all hell broke loose, thankfully there were some MP’s, so it didn’t take long for the fight to be broken up, plenty of fiah wood for the barman to use though.’ Steve chuckled.

‘God’s sake Steve mate,’ replied the third, his tags stating “F.Hutchinson” as they jangled from his neck. ‘You want a brighter target for somebody to shoot at?’
‘Hey, Freddie, come on now like, these surpise inspections wouldn’t surprise me if the bastards wanted ‘em shiny, so I don’t disappoint.’
‘Doft is what you are mate, doft.’ Muttered Freddie as he sipped his cup of Tea.

‘Any news on when somebody might make us do some actual stuff as opposed to sitting on our arses most of the day?’ muttered Bradley aloud.
‘Eh, probably not, they wouldn’t rope us in with that clean-up rubbish, we’re above that, Covert Operations Beyond Regional Accountability and all that doft rubbish.’
‘Got that right like. They’d never rope us in for crap like that, we’re soldiers, not housemaids.’
‘Somebody said that you were into a bit of dress-up at the weekends Freddie..’ Steve Grinned as he put the dog tags.
Freddie spat out his tea. ‘You bastard…’ he began, Bradley and Steve just burst out laughing, laughter that would no doubt spill out thanks to the open door.

Tiger strolled into the COBRA barracks, and glanced up at the three men sitting around the table. He had met the men only a couple of days previously, but they were getting on fine. COBRA had recently expanded, and now had many more operatives, from all around the region. Tiger's original COBRA teammates were back in Intelligent Neighbors, sorting out the mess and bringing 'justice' to those who had opposed Marcus Brandt and Alexi Kersebleptos, the leaders of Intelligent Neighbors.

Tiger held a fax in his hand, it was still warm, and straight from HQ. He spoke softly to the men, and they stopped their idle talk and listened.

"Fred, Steve, Bradley. I have a new job for us, HQ sent us, as well as various other members of COBRA a fax, detailing a new assignment. It says that we are to begin searching for the body of one Sergeant Ohms, formerly IN Kommando. He went MIA after a mission in Sorel, and since then no-one has heard from him... This guy's body is of particular importance as he was wearing one of the HT-11 heavy battle armour suits. They were state of the art then, and even now unmatched in IN in terms of heavy armour and weaponry in a suit, beating the lighter HT-12 and HT-13."

Freddie interjected, "Ok, you know your stuff, when do we leave?"

Tiger gave him a hard stare. "Tomorrow, Fredweena."

The other Midlonian soldiers burst into laughter.

//OOC: Regional members can use the fax as a method to join the RP if you wish.//

After the laughter died down a bit Bradley huffed slightly.
'Seems we will be playing bloody house-maid after all, I thought we were to do actual covert operations, surely the conscripts can read a bloody name tag Tiger? Or has Educating the mass-armies slipped around here?'

Steve grabbed a flask from beisde him and poured a little Brandy into his cup of tea and grinned.
'Well, bottoms oop like to all this.' he grinned and downed the tea.

'Right, well, get your gear together then lads, we'll be ready for whenever then' Bradley beamed a little, his moustache quivering.

Underground Laboratory
Unknown Location

For years he had been amassing materials in preparation for his grand scheme. How it would exactly play out was still a mystery, but he had great confidence: nobody would know what to do before it was too late. For now, he had to get his plan underway. The collection of bodies and biomass was moving along at a steady enough rate now; he could begin production. His hired grunts had no idea why they were collecting corpses and killing innocents for fresher material, but as long as they got their cash, they had no reason to question. And that was how the man liked it. Maybe later on they would serve an even better purpose.

The man's lair was a poorly-lit junkheap strewn about a well-sized cavern. If ever there was a definition of the poor-man's mad scientist lair, this was it. Broken, half-dissected gadgets were piled up on tables with nearly enough tools to match. Large metal skeletons of computers and other advanced hardware lay against the grayish rock walls. However, the main area of interest was the center of the room, where alien-looking technologies, humming with electric life and screens glowing with a mix of mostly blue and green light, sat in preparation for the night's events. Already, the first round of test subjects were being worked on, and it would be barely an hour before the estimated time of completion.

If it all worked, which the man knew it would, then his name was destined for the history books, associated with a description of him conquering all of human civilization. His technologies were far beyond anything even hypothesized by the most brilliant of scientists, so much that even he couldn't quite figure out why it worked. But the initial tests had proved successful, and now everything was coming to its culmination. If the first batch succeeded, then it would lead to bigger things, better things.

Swiftly turning from his instruments, the man walked towards a small cryogenic chamber. Nobody knew how to thaw someone without killing them, but it didn't matter in this case: the subject was already dead. This was just to keep him from decomposing. The man was drawn to the subject's particular armor, which was marked with various icons associated with the IN military. It was almost as grand as the stuff he knew that SAVX kept for all but a few of its most proud warriors. However, when the man's plan with this subject came to be, it would be far more powerful than anything that anyone could imagine. Running his gnarled hand along the frigid glass that sealed the cryochamber, the man whispered to himself.

"So soon, my precious pet. So soon. Just wait for it...hehehe...just wait..."

One of the consoles behind him began to beep, so he returned to his work. One minute left. Faster than expected, but that's not something one usually complains about. The man was one of those few types of people who have all the patience in the world, but he could still appreciate speed. He pressed a few keys on the console, and there was a hissing sound as hydraulics began to work in one of the pieces of machinery. It was a large pill-shaped device, about the size of something that could easily hold a large man. A lid on the top, connected to the hydraulics in question, raised itself. A horrendous odor immediately hit the man while he stood at his console, but he remained unfazed, the stench being nothing new to him.

Something moved from within the container. A hand raised out and grabbed onto the edge. It was a hand much like the man's in appearance, but it was even more disfigured, as though it had been rotting for some time. It was a sort of red-brown color, and there were large, smooth, brown lumps located randomly about it. It was soon joined by another hand, and together they pulled on the edges of the pod. Slowly but surely, up came a figure that looked like a human in its basic structure, and only to that extent. There was no hair, no skin, not even any blood. Just more of the same sort of tissue like that of the hands. The creature wasn't particularly large; in fact, it had the stature of an emaciated person living in a concentration camp. Its face bore rotten teeth, fully exposed to the air. The nose was gone, except for where the bone poked out. The eyes were mostly covered by more of the smooth brown tissue, but if you looked closely, you could see that inside there were masses less like eyeballs and more like white meatballs with pupils. The ears were gone, except for holes in the sides of the skull.

When the man called to the creature, it turned to him in a surprisingly swift motion.

"You!"

The creature made a sort of gurgled scream in response. The man paid no heed.

"You may know who or what you once were, but I do not, and I do not care. All that matters is that you are my servant, and you will do as I say. Is that clear?"

The creature simply stood still for a moment, but then it nodded its head and made a sound that sounded like a "yes."

"Good. Wait while I wake up your bretheren."

The man had spent much of his development time learning what each individual gene in countless organisms really meant, what they contributed to in an organism's role. The work had been painstaking, and were it not for his utter genius, no progress ever would have been made. But he had figured it out. Then he figured out how to create life. How to modify life. Finally, how to modify death and make it life, or at least some twisted mirror of it. And, best of all, it was life that would not, could not question him. And now, after all these years, he was ready to send his work out into the world and wreak the havoc he so desired.

For tonight's test, there was a small village in northern Vampad. The man would see how well his thirty prototype minions could level it and bring back the people that lived there, dead or alive, for his next round of creations.

In the state of Velusia lay the small village of about 100 people. It was lifeless, with the occasional out-dated car parked on the side of the main road that made its way through the village. It was early morning and a deep fog had settled into the area, engulfing the buildings and small windy roads. A street-lamp shined strong through the fog, leaving a small haze of yellowy light.

The largest of all houses belonged to a rich farmer, who in all fairness, owned the village. The house was dark and gloomy almost not welcoming. The owner liked that. He never enjoyed small chat and rarely talked to the persons in his service. Though he never served in the army, the local residents called him 'Major Browning' for some unknown reason.

Major Browning lay in his bed, gazing at the ceiling, wondering what he should be doing today. He glanced over to the window, seeing only dark patches through the fog. Though the village was prone to bad weather and usually fog, he was almost scared of the fog. He was scared of not knowing what was out there.

A stone's throw away from Major Browning's house stood the bakery. At this time in the morning the lights were on and the local baker Tim Hillary was busy doing what he does best. Tim sighed and stood motionless, thinking about days gone by.

After a few hours the residents of the village were up and around, going about their daily business as usual, assuming this day would be like no other.

The COBRA Barracks


The sky was beginning to show a hint of darkness when the two men arrived at the COBRA barracks. Their appearance made them out to be normal civilians, their hair was longer than allowed by IH military regulations and their clothes were also far too comfort orientated. The only thing that perhaps marked them out as being military was their physical state, both were muscly, although not too pronounced, and both were quite obviously strong athletes. The heavy kit bags that they carried with them appeared to weigh nothing more than a business mans empty briefcase, but in reality they carried a mutlitude of equipment and weaponry.

They passed the security checkpoint at the barracks enterance with ease, the guards being told that two new troops were joining the elite team tonight. Both were members of the Elite 24th Special Forces Regiment, based at Fort Heart outside Gillen, and both had seen combat together during the Talaax conflict and years earlier as basic recruites in the 6th Marine Division in Sniper Country.

They were pro's, the best of the best that the USIH had to offer. That status entailed several perks, they were paid very generously, had a free choice of weaponary that would usually be custom made for them, and the Special Forces bar just outside the base always attracted some of the finest ladies in the city. But they had had to leave that all behind.

Now they stood in the air conditioned climate that was the COBRA main barrack block facing across a room to several men drinking tea.

The taller of the two IH soldiers turned to the other

"Looks like we better go introduce ourselves to these boys"

Spotting two bunks that looked pretty empty between themselves and their fellow COBRA operatives they carefully placed their kitbags on them and then headed over. As usual the taller of the two took the lead, gesturing to his slightly shorter friend.

"Evening Gentlemen. We are your two new recruits. Ben Havers and Chris Heard. I trust we are all well?"

COBRA Barracks

The sun was just about to finish setting when two more soldiers arrived at the COBRA barracks. One was a man, the other a woman. They both carried medium-sized green duffel bags, light AG-42VX "Smacker" SMGs, and large-toothed combat knives.

The man's build, unlike most SOF soldiers, was rather lanky and somewhat tall at a height of 6' 3". Developed sinew was visible, but he had an obvious lack of width. He had pale skin and hair with a light-brown color that almost long enough to cover his eyes. His smoothly-shaped jaw was covered in stubble that resulted from not having shaved in nearly a week and a half. His eyes were a sharp green, and had the stare that a predatory bird might have: sharp and keen, masking a constantly-active mind. Dressed in a basic SAVX forest commando outfit--green camo cargo pants and a thin grey-brown t-shirt--he didn't look like much, but beneath the weak-looking exterior was an incredibly fast and agile machine.

The woman was also brown-haired and green-eyed, with a similar build and a height of 5' 10". She had a very feminine figure, with wide hips and medium-sized breasts. Her hair was straight and worn as a ponytail that went down to just below her shoulder-blades. She was dressed in the same outfit as her companion, except she had a tank-top on instead of a t-shirt. Her skin was more of an olive color that contrasted sharply with the male's paleness. Her face bore a laid-back look, with a tiny ever-present grin on her thick lips. Like her companion, her appearance hid a body capable of surprising strength and speed, especially with blades in her case.

Both soldiers had spent nearly five years in the jungles of southeastern SAVX, combating ever-present terrorists and other dangerous malcontents, before being shipped around the world with other members of the Solid Shadows for another four years. Through trial of combat, they had proved that they were above and beyond the normal elite soldier, but rejecting the offer for Shock Trooper status, they had opted to join COBRA as the SAVXian representatives.

Now, walking into the barracks, they came face to face with those who would be their comrades in combat. The woman introduced them to the others while the man's gaze wandered around the place. Her face became a pleasant smile. For all the ruggedness and animality that came with being an SOF soldier, she had retained throughout her life the ability to be a rather normal, polite person outside of combat.

"Hello, gentlemen. I'm Reija Caulfield and this is Scott Caulfield, from SAVX. It looks like we'll be joining you for some fun and games in time to come."

After Reija finished her introduction, one of the men half-jokingly asked if they were married, what with having the same last name. Reija laughed and shook her head.

"No. We're just twins. Mind if we join you for tea?"

"shoo-er, I'll just git a couple more cups, like." Steve opened a travellers chest behind him and set out two more tea cups and saucers.

"So, where the heck was this ruddy body last seen? And what are the expected conditions? We can't go kitted up for forest work like this pair and end up in a bloody town." Bradley looked at Tiger and motioned for the fax.

Freddie sighed, and grabbed a magazine that had "Midlonian Armoury Catalogue" stamped on it. "What was it we were going for weapon-wise anyway? A stuzi (http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v160/Midlonia/Shade%20stuff/Stuzi_beta3.jpg) for you Bradley... errr, what did you want again Steve?"

Steve turned from pouring one of the cups and frowned.
"Eh? Oh, um, What they got?"
"Errr, they got that needler, y'knaow, the one from ZMI? Can fire Sabot bullets, whatsitcalled, SLAP? and other things..." Freddie waved his hand slightly and shrugged.
"Um, sure, get me that then. Support weapon thingy I take it?"
"Yer."
"I dunno what to have myself, a S.I.R.2., or a Stuzi." he flicked a page. "HA! Oh, boy, I might get me a boarding tank for a laugh." he chuckled.
"Isn't that the one that The Concordat uses to board enemy spaceships n stuff like?" Steve looked back from pouring the second cup and then handed it to the two newcomers.
"Um, yeah, that and the weapon on it... Nah, I'll just have a S.I.R.2 then, all the fun of the fair with the staple diet..." Freddie closed the magazine and threw it on the bunk behind him.
"So, where you lot from then? We're from Midlonia, 'Land of Tea n Trains' so they say." he yawned.

COBRA Barracks

Reija accepted the cups with a nod and a “thank you,” then went over to her brother who had found himself a small table near the wall. He was pulling a deck of cards out of his pocket and proceeded to set up a game of Spider Solitaire. He received his cup from Reija with barely a mumble, then proceeded to play. Reija made her way back to the group, taking a sip of the tea. It was pretty damn good tea, especially compared to most military standards. Reija was the first to respond to Freddie’s question.

“SAVX…land of bombs, bombs, and some more bombs, I suppose.”


Velusia, Vampad
A Small Village

Contrary to many popular horror themes, night time was not required for these “undead,” so to speak, to start going about their business. At high noon, they had found their first victim. At the edge of the village was a woman working in her garden, oblivious to her impending doom. When then gnarled fingers wrapped around her neck in a tremendously strong grip, it was already too late. Her husband, hearing the commotion of the struggle, came to investigate. He was beset upon by two more of the creatures. Before he had a chance to fight back, they had already broken his neck.

Leaving the bodies for later pickup, the creatures continued on. The harvest had begun.

Tiger handed Bradley the fax and spoke his turn.

"I'm from north-eastern IN, the Gildi desert area. As for Sergeant Ohms, he was last seen in the west of the flooded city of Sorel, a mostly residential area, with a few larger shopping centres and theatres dotted around. As such," Tiger gestured to the two IH soldiers, "forest camoflage will not be necessary."

"As for my weapons, our driver tomorrow will have them ready for me. One of the finest Witzgallian sniper rifles and a couple of pistols will do me fine. Once we reach our destination, we will begin searching for his body. I understand that the average grunt cannot be assigned to this task due to the nature of disappearance of this person. Intelligence believes that Cikae terrorists were operating in the area, and if this is true then there is a possibility of another costly war for the IN government. You can see why this must be kept quiet, no need to disturb the public just yet."

After a little more small-talk and basic discussion of search tactics and equipment they could use, Tiger decided to turn in for the night. Bidding his new colleagues goodnight he took to his bunk, and slept soundly while he knew he could.

COBRA Barracks

The two IH soldiers nodded to Tiger as he wandered back off to his bunk area. After chatting with the others for some minutes they made their excuses and headed back to their kit. Each man had bought three kit bags, mostly containing weapons and ammunition, and were confident that they could supply anything else that they may need.

In case they didn't have something each man had been issued a special card that they kept on them at all times when not on a mission. The cards enabled them to withdraw cash from any standard ATM machine, or requisition items online from a known IH Special Forces site. Both were looking forward to using them, although they felt that they should probably wait until they actually needed something.

Both men first of all went to the biggest of the three bags that they had and began carefully removing their primary weapons. For Ben Havers this was an XM-8 Assualt Rifle that had been customised for his own use, this included a butt that incorperated a slightly padded chin rest so that he could stay in the aim for hours without the slighest discomfort. Havers also had a G36C that he had only had time to zero before leaving his old barracks, the stainless steel barrel having only had about fifty rounds put through it to this date. In a padded box next to the carbine he had a pair of Glock 18's that had been rechambered to fire the 10mm Armour Piercing round that had recently been developed by James Corp, along with a pair of specially designed Laylax Silencers. As well as this there was another box containing his M1911A1, it was a heavy pistol but the .45 round that it fired would drop an unarmoured opponent and that was the main reason that he carried it as a backup weapon. Along with several grenades of various types that also had the safety masking tape of corresponding colours wrapped around them, white for white phosphourous, red for frag, and then yellow and green for smoke or varying colours. His combat knife was of a basic pattern found in the Royal Abrams Army, a close ally from IH's original region.

On the cot next to him, Chris Heard removed his own primary weapon from the rifle case he stored and carried it in. A fully customised M4A1 Carbine fitted with a 2x4 Optical Red Dot Scope, including Night Vision Scope attachment, silencer and lightwieght retractable butt. The whole weapon was in deceptive camoflauge green paint which allowed it to blend into jungle and some woodland scenery completely. Neither man used the double magazine's that were so often used by others because of the realisation that dirt and stones very easily got into exposed areas, which would increase jams and blockages that could not be afforded in combat. Heard's secondary weapon was an M7 Combat Shotgun that usually spent most of its time over his back, but it was a useful weapon for close in jungle and urban environments were the spread of shot would usually take the target down. A pair of M9 9mm pistols, a standard combat knife and several different types of grenade's finished off his lethal gear that was stored in this bag, the grenades all had tape tied around the pins to prevent any accidents during travel. In another seperate bag he had five Claymores that he took with him on some missions, along with several blocks of C4 explosives. Heard was considered an offensive pointman in the IH Special Forces, he would range ahead or behind of the Special Forces column and would set traps and demolitions when they were needed.

Both men also had the newest edition of the lightweight F34 Combat Harness and the latest generation of Mk 4 Lightweight Tactical Body Armour that they wore under it. This allowed them flexibility and protection, with the armour being able to completely stop a 7.62mm round fired from 100yards. They also both had Lighweight Kevlar Reinforced Hockey Helmets which had their primary ear pieces fitted into them. The voice piece went around their neck and both were connected to the radio pouch by cables running inside the operatives clothing. Both also carried lightweight black rucksacks that held extra ammunition, grenades and equipment such as Night Vision Goggles that would all come in handy to supplement the magazines of ammunition they carried on their thigh holders and in the pockets of the F34. In Haver's case the addition of a Medical Pack along with extra bandages and gauze allowed him to use his basic Special Forces Medic Training to better effect if anybody got hit.

After cleaning all their weapons and testing the rest of the equipment they packed it up into the rucksacks and harnesses. Once done they selected the Urban Pattern Battle Dress from their clothing rucksacks and their standard boots, which they arrayed on push chairs next to them. Their weapons they put into the lockers next to their beds and padlocked them shut, putting the keys around their necks.

They went back to the other members of the COBRA team and talked for a little longer before picking up their copies of the tactical maps that one of them had left and retiring for the night.

Rejean had just finished a long, fruitless two-day search for the mysterious truck. It - and it's driver - seemed to have the left the battlefield as quickly and anonymously as it had arrived.

He returned to the NMS Special Ops barracks, where he was staying with two former guerilla leaders, now promoted to COBRA members along with Rejean. He decided to call around and see if anyone had any clues as to where this man might have gone...

OOC: Vampad, any time you wanna start noticing that your town is being slaughtered is fine by me...

IC:

Velusia, Vampad
A Small Village

The creatures, like a swarm of locusts, had descended upon this town and had already ravaged most of it. Nearly sixty people had already been killed. Others had gone into hiding, but it wasn't hard for the creatures, with a surprisingly keen sense of smell, to locate them and pluck their lives from the killing farm.

Against an enemy without any real defenses to speak of, caught completely unawares, the creatures had the full advantage. They weren't just stupid, brute animals, chasing a hunger or passion; they were precision-built killing machines, simply following orders to their last.

COBRA Barracks

Reija waved to Tiger as he left, then to the IH soldiers as well when they took their exit. Now there was just her brother, off to the side, and the Midlonians. They continued conversation a bit more, darting around to various topics, such as tea and how there would be a Midlonian uprising without it. Reija was also glancing at a tactical map. "Last seen here..."

Suddenly, a thought occurred to her.

"We need to get there ASAP, otherwise the cleanup crews might destroy evidence before we even get a glance."

COBRA Barracks

Tiger was shaken awake by Reija, and grumbled in a semi-coherent tone about why he had been woken up.

"We need to leave, Tiger, now. Otherwise the cleanup squads will have cleaned the evidence away."

"Ughh, damnit."

Tiger stumbled out of bed as Reija left to wake the IH soldiers. It looked like he would not be getting a good night's sleep after all.

40 minutes later

Pumped full of coffee the COBRA team piled into their vehicles, and set off to the airport where a waiting helicopter would take them to Sorel. The hunt was about to begin.

Havers and Heard were buckled in next to each other on the helicopter flight directly opposite two of the Midlonian Troopers. They chatted for the flight via their tactical radios, which they all had now,and over the highly encrypted bands used by Special Forces they joked as well as talked about their hide and seek mission.

Heard had the window seat next to a crew chief and despite the darkness noticed that the lush green countryside had begun to turn into a landscape ravaged by warfare. Burnt out shells of tanks and personnel carriers still littered the area, as did large craters and the occassional zig zag of some small trench system. They passed over a couple of destroyed villages and in the distance Heard could see a sprawling urban wasteland approaching. He kept his Night Vision goggles on, and turned to the rest of the squad to tell them to do the same.

As if on que the co-pilot in the chopper turned around and held up two fingers and in a barely audible shout informed the team that they had two minutes.

Not really expecting trouble Heard and Havers didn't have rounds chambered in their primary weapons that sat in between their legs, however their pistols were locked and loaded just incase. Their Night Vision systems turned on and folded down over their eyes from the clips on their hockey helmets allowed them to get used to the darkness. They didn't know whether the power was on or off in Sorel, and this way they were prepared for it.

Almost exactly two minutes later the troopers felt the helicopter flare as it approached the LZ.

Rejean, and his fellow operatives Jean Maillard Jr. (the son of the current NMS intel chief) and Andre Lieurard, stood waiting at the LZ. The handful of regular soldiers on duty at the pad came to attention if they didn't have some piece of gear to run.

"I don't have much of a briefing for you guys," said Rejean. "Basically, it's a truck, and people had seen it in and out of the central battlegrounds for a couple weeks. This guy did not want to be seen. Looked really, really creepy. His truck, by all accounts, smelled like all hell. And, well, we still need to find him."

He hauled out a bunch of papers. "A witness from outside zone E4 informed us of a spill of some black liquid. Tests have indicated that this liquid is highly harmful to all life around it, and not something civilians should be tanking around."

"In short, we need to find this guy, and we don't know the slightest place as to where we go from here."

The Midlonians chambered their weapons and made sure the safties were on, it was just one of those things, bad luck not to be prepared.

Bradley simply looked at the man who spoke to them about some truck.
"Errr, sorry?" he spoke clipped and clearly.
"We're here looking for some gawk of a Sergeant that got himself lost in this hell hole." he motioned to the remains of the city. "Not playing hide n seek with some twit in a truck hauling what could, for all we know, be raw bloody sewerage. How about we stick with what we're here for and sod the bloody truck and leave it to this lot." he made a sweeping gesture towards the other soldiers and the conscripts while he rested his stuzi on his shoulder.

"Now, where was the Sergeant last seen." Steve joined in. "'cause I tell ya now pet, I ain't gunna search aal this street by street like."

Rejean turned to the visiting soldiers: "You're asking if I've seen one sergeant in an army? I can check the computers back at the base for him, c'mon."

He jumped into a Humvee, and motioned for the Midlonians to either join his or take a seat in a second one right behind his vehicule.

Tiger grinned, the Midlonians were always quite blunt, but Rejean had taken it remarkably well. He climbed into the back of one of the waiting vehicles, and along with the other COBRA operatives they trundled back to the NMS base, where many maps and much information awaited them.

On the way back Tiger spoke over the radio:
"This seems a little wierd. A strange guy with a toxic truck rumbling around what is supposed to be a ruined city. There are also many more people unnaccounted for than would be expected, even with the special circumstances. We will need to investigate this matter further, after our present mission is accomplished.

"Rejean, the Sergeant we are looking for is highly important, he has technology on him that must be retrieved. When we get back to base we can show you his last known location. Perhaps you could mark on your map where your own men have searched? Thanks."

NMS Base,
Sorel

Stepping into the army base was an unfamiliar experience for Tiger. He was used to either sleeping in a comfortable bed, or lying alone in the wilderness, covered in camoflage and hunting a target. This place was, different. It was rugged, but in a kind of dirty way that the wild never could manage. Rejean led them into a small office, which was much better kept. A large map of the city was spread across the desk, and Tiger quickly called up the location on his HUD before pointing it out on the physical map.

"Sergeant Ohms, IN Kommando, was last seen here."

Tiger indicated a small block of flats adjacent to the river proper. This was one of the poorer suburbs, and even now was still mostly flooded, with quite a few buildings in the area torn apart by the heavy fighting that had occured here.

"Any more information for us Rejean?"

Bradley glanced at Steve and grined cheekily.
"I think I might like that chap." he said as he borded the Humvee that Rejan was in.

Bradley grabbed the radio in the lead humvee as they travelled.
"Don't be so bloody daft, in all ruddy disasters there's bound to be some prats who ignore every government request, demand, out-right scream and plead, leave that to the regular grunts, and what the heck do you mean by 'special equipment'?" the radio simply fizzled with the reply broken up with something that Tiger was talking about.
"Oh for Pete's... Look, show us when you get there then." he then placed the radio mic roughly back in its holder "Bloody cheap tech." he muttered.

NMS base, Sorel

"Ok. A block of flats, lovely," Steve muttered as he peered closer to the map, "We gunna need Waders? Or do we have a lovely boat to get us oot there, like?"

"Great, and here's me with a friggen rifle instead of a bloody shotgun, I knew I needed it.." Grumbled Freddie as he shook his head, Bradley grinned.

"Good job I put one in the gear box before we came out then isn't it?" he chuckled. "Whoever gets on point gets the shottie."

NMS Base, Sorel

"Already got one mate!" said Heard in response Bradley's statement.

As if to prove it he removed his black M7 from his back, swinging his M4 around to take its place next to the lightly loaded rucksack. Taking some shells from a breast pocket in his webbing he began to load the shotgun, keeping it unloaded unless he was using it was a precaution he had long taken.

Havers looked at the map with a vaguely annoyed expression on his face.

"I believe it would be a better idea to get a pair of RIB's or some other light boat. Surely there are a couple around in a city and warzone like this? Im sure that the Kommando's must have had a few that are abandoned."

A smile broke out on his face

"Failing that I believe we are all going for an uncomfortable dip."

NMS Base,
Sorel

Reija and Scott concentrated on the tactical maps, noting the main areas they should check and where the volunteer crews were located to figure out how careful they had to be. As it stood, there was a good buffer distance. Then Reija looked up with a grin.

"Don't get thirsty. So is there anything else in particular that we're looking for, other than the obvious?"

NMS White Ranger barracks, Sorel

Rejean and his fellow COBRA agents had opted to stay with the White Rangers, NMS's special ops unit, seeing as that was where they were originally from. Rejean scrolled through the computer listings for any information he could find while the others were talking.

"Your sergeant Ohms did nothing out of the ordinary," he said. "He had been assigned scavager duty on the battlefield after the peace agreement - here's a link to the copies of all the logs from his various expeditions. I don't have any data on his combat service, but I've sent a request to the IN commander in charge of their part of the rebuilding to see if he's got anything."

He pulled up copies of the logs on his monitor and on three other stations in the room.

"If you've got anything we should be looking for, speak now or forever hold your peace," said Rejean. "Other than that, let's get scrolling."

OOC: The show must go on...

Velusia, Vampad
A Small Village

The slaughter was complete in barely an hour. Two of the creatures had been wounded by civilian shotguns, and one was killed by a lucky shot to the head. Despite this, the wave of death had achieved its goal, and now they would be bringing back as many bodies as they could carry. The wounded creatures had been mostly healed within bare minutes; whatever the strange man had done with their genetic codes, they were now capable of rapid metabolism and, therefore, rapid healing.

With each of the remaining creatures taking three bodies with them, only thirteen bodies remained to show what had happened.


Underground Laboratory
Unknown Location

The man watched, grinning wickedly, as his minions dumped the bodies where he wanted. Half went into the pods; the other half went into “the blender.” The device was basically a giant metal vat, filled with Aurix-221. Once all of the bodies were broken down into a disgusting mass of pulpy bioliquid, the contents would be heated to destroy the Aurix-221 enzymes. Then the next batch of enzymes, along with pre-coded DNA, would be dumped in. The man liked to call the second batch the Eden Brew.

The Eden Brew, given some time, would first produce generic stem cells. With some more time, the impeccably-designed DNA would begin directing the masses of cells, giving them muticellular purpose. Soon enough, the man would have his next creation. Once bred on a large scale, nothing would be able to stop him.

The cavern echoed with his insane laughter.

“The time of reckoning is upon you now, fools!

NMS Military Base, Sorel

Havers took a place at one of the monitors whilst Heard showed off with his shotgun to the Midlonian Soldiers.

After several minutes of fruitless scrolling he remarked.

"Shouldn't this advanced technology have some form of homing beacon on it anyway?"

"Usually, yes. But this suit's system cut out, due to a lucky hit from a SAVX soldier."

Tiger looked over at Reija and Scott and smiled wickedly.

"I think I have all the information I need, and I am sure we can requisition a boat if we show our COBRA passes. Let's move out now. Rejean, are you coming along for the hunt?"

//OOC: This story should start to get going now, so can we jump forward to when we are at the last known location?//

Rejean stared across the battlefield, scanning the area using advanced binoculars. The IN troopers had elected to dig for clues using their hands instead, and were trying to find some armor or a body. Rejean's two fellow operatives were helping out the IN troops, as were most of the rest of the COBRA operatives.

Rejean turned to Tiger. "I think I see something...about 300 meters...310 meters north of here. Looks like a chunk of armor."

Tiger gestured to the IN soldiers. One of them took out a pair of binoculars and took a look.

"Looks like our armor...but where's the body?"

He beckoned to the other IN soldiers, and they stepped forward to investigate further.

Sorel,
NMS

As the COBRAs searched, something about the settings struck Scott. He looked around at the others, but it didn't seem like they noticed; they were intent more on specific clues. Speaking for the first time since arriving, he yelled,

"Hey, does anybody else notice there aren't any bodies here? I thought the volunteer crews didn't touch this area yet."

Sorel, NMS

Heard was annoyed with himself that he hadn't spotted the obvious fact that Scott had just informed the team of. The usual smell of decomposing bodies and blood was not in the air, instead replaced by the sensation of smoke from some fire or other that was still burning in another area of the city as yet unreached by the cleanup crews. Heard reached to his voice comms control around his throat and keyed it onto the team curcuit.

"Yeah. The timetables show this area as due for a visit early part of next week. Is there anyway for us to check who, or what has been in this area?

Havers was the first to reply to him. He had gone with the IN soldiers to look at the armour piece that Rejean had seen.

"Chris this ain't no Sci-Fi thing. No body snatching aliens around are there?" he joked, not knowing that just days before there had been a body snatcher, who most people would have called a freak rather than an alien.

Rejean pulled out his radio and called the base for information on any crews that might have come past the area.

"It'll be a couple minutes searching," he said. "But if someone did come through here, they did a terrible job."

Guns, bits of uniforms and armor were scattered all across the field. Charred vehicle remains dotted the area. The only thing missing were the corpses.

"Base to COBRA. Come in, COBRA."

"I copy, base. Got anything for us?"

"Negative. Crews should be coming by Monday to your area."

"Thanks. COBRA out."

He turned to Chris. "Nobody came."

Sorel,
NMS

Scott nodded, grunting.

"Looks like our Kommando friend isn't the only one missing...there was supposed to be something about black goop? Let's look for some of that."

"Could be..." he began to think to himself, "...but no. What the hell would that stuff be needed for?"

"Mmm." hummed Bradley
"What? What's on yer mind bradders?" replied Freddie.
"They're talking." Bradley nodded over to the others
"So? We gotta find some sodding prat that got himself lost."
"And all the other dead Prats? What about them? They up n walk or something, like?" retorted Steve.
Freddie laughed. "Yeah, sure, they popped off for a cuppa, I'm sure we'll find the note in a moment with 'Sorry chaps, just off for a spot of tea, see you on Monday, here's some fingers to keep you going.'"

Bradley snorted. "Wouldn't surprise me with this bloody lot. Daft sods the lot of 'em."

Sorel, NMS

Havers and the IN soldiers had been searching around the area of the armour for a few minutes when he noticed a small dark puddle sitting amid some concrete blocks in the ruins of a building that had escaped most of the flooding, as had the ground directly behind it.

Walking a little closer he was hit by the smell coming from the general area and took a step back. He nearly dismissed it as some kind of oil leak that had happened and then had the general smells of battle combine with it, but his highly trained mind recalled Rejean mentioning a strange hermit with a toxin truck being seen in the city.

Worth calling in about I suppose he thought to himself as he stepped back and away from the smell. As he did so he noticed another puddle that had formed nearer to the track that showed signs of recent motor vehicle activity, tire tracks that according to the groove left led away from the area. It looked as if some kind of tanker had hit a bump in the road and lost part of its load. But what would an oil tanker be doing here?

He reached to his communication device and hit the transmit button, talking into the small microphone that was also attached to the neck device.

"Couple of you guys might want to come look at this. Some kind of goop, probably toxic and it stinks to high hell. Its like nothing I've ever seen after combat, you might want to bring some tubes so we can get some samples for analysis. Also got some tire tracks leading away from here, quite a wide vehicle too. I thought that this area had been submerged until recently?"

Rejean walked over to the IH soldiers.

"That stink is all because of that patch?"

Havers nodded.

"We'll call in, and see if any oil tankers or anything like that have passed through here - although you're right, that would be unlikely, this place was in the drink until a couple weeks ago..."

Rejean called and waited.

"Nothing," he said. "This might be that truck...look, there's another patch."

He beckoned for the other NMS COBRA members to come with him as he tried to to follow the vehicle's tracks...

Sorel
NMS

While Scott busied himself with collecting the goop samples, Reija wandered around further. See watched as the NMS soldiers followed the tire tracks through the soggy mud that made the surface of this area. "What the hell would somebody want bloated, decaying bodies for?" she thought to herself. As she meandered farther away from the other COBRA operatives, she began to find bodies lying around.

The odor was horrendous. The bodies had been decomposing for a few weeks now, but the weather was too cold for flies. That meant that the bodies had to break down through other slower means. Lightly kicking one body in the ribs, it broke apart, letting a bubble of gas and fluids escape, much to Reija's disgust.

Then she heard something. Or at least, she thought she did. Venturing towards the source of the sound, she suddenly came across what looked like a decaying body leaning over another. One of them, however, was moving. She raised her gun and slowly approached. When she was a few feet away, a large rat ran out from in-between the bodies. Startled only for a second, Reija breathed a quick sigh, lowering her gun.

Fingers wrapped around her neck in a flash, squeezing hard. Were she not a highly-trained and experienced SOF soldier, Reija's life would've come to an end moments later. However, that wasn't the case. Shoving her elbow into the offender's torso with tremendous force, she spun. The grip released itself while Reija's SMG-butt collided with the offender's head. The crazed hobo who had attacked Reija was dead before he hit the ground, his skull caved in around the right temple.

Reija breathed hard for a few seconds. Scanning the area to make sure there was nobody else, she quickly made her way back to the other COBRAs. Within half a minute, her heart rate had returned to normal and her mind had left the event.


Underground Laboratory
Unknown Location

With his enlarged force of minions, the man planned his next move. He wanted to make his presence half-known to the world, but he needed new bodies as well. He always needed new bodies. The other vats wouldn't be ready for some time now, so he couldn't yet rely on the power of his next creations. It had to be kept simple. Perhaps...

He spun around on his catwalk to address his minions on the ground. They were busy eating specially-prepared nutrient gruels, but turned their attention to their master at the first sound of his voice.

"There is a town on the Eastern border of IN. It's larger than the village in the last assault, and much closer. You won't have to deal with any water this time. Go there, collect bodies. Weapons as well. Anything you find in terms of blades, guns, ammunition...it will all add to our power. Go, my minions! Go and reap the lives of those fools!"

The creatures rose and began to exit the cavern. Now his presence would be known. Glancing at the readouts on one of his monitors, the man grinned evilly. Only two more hours before his next masterpieces should be done.


OOC: Perhaps this will be a bit more...reliable.

Just outside Sorel

Rejean and his men followed the tracks in a Jeep for about twenty miles until they were satisfied that the vehicule had left the Sorel area. They radioed for a heli crew to follow the tracks "until they got to someone else's border." Then they called back to the rest of the COBRA team, telling them to grab samples of the goop and ship some to NMS labs.

"Might want to see if the SAVXians or IN would be willing to take a look at it," added Rejean. "Someone who knows a bit more about nasty chemicals than us."

Base assured him they would look into it, and then proceeded to do so.

Sorel
NMS

Scott spoke up, rather hurriedly. He stifled most of it, but there was definitely a hint urgency in his voice.

"I can take a look at it. I've memorized the entire SAVX Federal database on toxic chemicals...and believe me, there's a lot."


Underground Laboratory
Unknown Location

The hour had arrived. A small alert on his computer went off, telling the man that the procedure was, theoretically, complete. Now he had to see the results. Pressing a few keys on the module, he watched as the lid of the first vat was opened. There were three others like it, but if this batch turned out incorrectly, the man knew the possibility of the others being the same way was almost 100%. In such a case, Aurix-221 would be dumped to each vat to break down the products once more.

With a hiss, the lid opened, the two halves angling upward and then sliding down the sides. The moment that the cavern's dim light entered the vat, there was movement within and an audible screech. A light above the vat switched on, illuminating the contents.

The man gasped with joy. Physically, at least, it was a success.

It was like a giant, grotesque four-appendaged lizard-bug. Its skin was a sort of orange color, smooth and slimy from the incubation contents. The legs were jam-packed with muscle, and the arms were covered in sharp spines. Instead of hands, the creature bore two long scythe-like bones. Its head was adorned with a multitude of small horns atop a thick-plated skull, and the eyes were like those of a snake--sharp, keen, and ready to hunt. The jaw was wide and long, brimming with razor-sharp teeth. With a tail nearly as long as its body, the creature looked almost like a small raptor.

Now he had to see if his creation's basic mental programming was in order. Instinct had been the most difficult concept to plug in, and the man, for all his confidence, half-expected this first attempt to be a failure from that standpoint.

With a remote-control in his hand controlling automated security systems, the man made his way toward the vat. He stopped by a medium-sized container first, however. Bending over to put his strength into it, he lifted out a bound and gagged woman. She reeked of human waste, and it was clear that she hadn't eaten in days. The man had been careful to give her water, however, to keep her alive and conscious just well enough.

Dragging her across a catwalk to the vat in question, he looked down. The creature inside began to jump around, making more screeching noises. The woman began to try to scream and struggle away, but it was to no avail. Without a second thought, the man dropped her into the vat.

She hadn't even hit the bottom before the creature had begun to attack. It was over in mere seconds, resulting in blood, gore, and tattered clothing splattered around the metal container. The man smiled. So far, the instincts were correct.

Walking down some metal stairs, he came just level enough with the container to reach in easily. The creature was already halfway through eating its victim when it turned to address the man's closer presence. The man slowly reached forward with his hand, dangling it to see whether the creature would attack. It lunged first, as though it was going to strike, but instead flared its nostrils and stopped. The man grinned evilly. He pet it on the snout before turning around to open the other vats.

It had worked. The creature had recognized his smell as a friendly one. The instinct programming was a success.

Bradley snorted "Oh yes," he muttered to the others "And I can name every last type of Midlonian Railway locomotive since 1796."

The other two snickered slightly and fanned out a tad to check the immediate area, the soggy wreckage gave off a terrible smell, but it was something that you had to phase out when looking at listening around for movement of some kind. The boring part was always the waiting.

Sorel, NMS

Heard also collected a small sample of the goop into a plastic tube that he then inserted into an airtight bag. Removing his plastic gloves he stepped away from the smell and took a notepad from his top pocket. Scribbling a message onto one piece he attached it to a slot in the side of the bag, and then wrote an address on another piece.

Grabbing a passing IN private he told the confused soldier to mail the bag in an envelope to the address on the paper.

The private was naturally curious and when out of sight of the COBRA operatives he read the address, just a standard one in J City, and then read the note attached. It read:

Analyse Sample and Phone Results Through. Heard.

Little did the IN soldier know, but the address was for a courier firm who worked closely with the IH government and would deliver the sample to the Chemical Munitions Laboratory at Fort K just outside the city for further analysis. They would then ring the results through to Heard's satellite phone that he carried with him everywhere.

Rejean looked quizzically at Scott.

"I'll still be sending this stuff in, for the records if nothing else," he said. "But if you know what this goop is..."

Sorel
NMS

Scott glanced away and shrugged.

"I might, but I don't know for sure. That's why I want to look at it. If it is what I think it is, most others would probably have no idea, so it'd be a waste of time for them to try to figure it out. That's all."

Closing his containment bag, Scott wandered over to his sister. He noticed the red marks on her neck from the bum's attack.

"Something happen?"

"Just a crazed fool. Nothing important."

Scott nodded.

Rejean handed him another vial of the goop. "Help yourself," he said. "There's plenty all around if you need more."

After handing his sample to the IN soldier Heard had continued searching the area. Ten fruitless minutes later he hit the transmit button on his radio.

"This area has been cleaned out real good. I doubt that we are going to find our man here, and even if we do I think that the lack of bodies here warrants further investigation."