NationStates Jolt Archive

The following message was sent out to the underworld community across the world.

FROM: Serpent@daedalus.ota
SUBJECT: Job Opportunity

Greetings. Most of you already know me, if not directly, by my reputation. My name is Coatl, and I have a business opportunity many of you may be interested in. Attached is a picture, a picture of a young boy. I want him dead, by any means possible. I am already tracking him, but due to certain knowledge possessed by my target, he will quite possibly be able to evade me. Thus, I have placed a 10 billion Quetzale bounty on his head. He is in Otagia, Arbite City to be precise, and will stay there. That is my offer. I hope you will consider it.

Yours,
Coatl

Attached is a mugshot-style photograph of a young boy, approximately twelve years of age.

"Moderator, I think you should see this."
"What?" she replied to the aid.
"We got this from one of our underground contacts..."
"We need to rescue that child, call an intelligence agency meeting."

It was decided at the meeting (all contents of which are top secret) to save the boy. Ten agents were put in the field, and the hunt was on.

Stained light filtered through the red curtains. Marcus Laesitem sat transfixed in his computer chair, gazing interestedly at the glowing eMac monitor. Holy Hell...10 billion? he thought, straining his mind to think back. He had been to Otagia on several occasions, mostly tracking his victims. He had received a total of 18,000 Quetzale, which was pittance in comparison to this bounty. He had to get this one.

It's a boy though, he told himself. Then another id in his mind chimed in.

You promised yourself that you would play by no rules when you got into this business. Who cares if it's a twelve-year-old boy. Coatl obviously has a damn good reason with a bounty that massive.

The youngest I've ever killed is 17. And he was attacking me. But even I have limits...

Didn't you just hear me? Embattled the voice. It doesn't matter whether he's twelve or ninety-six. So long as he's not breathing, with no pulse, and you get fucking rich. You understand? Kill the boy, get the money. Kill...the...boy...

Marcus shook himself mentally. He had been very skilled at tuning out that harsh, persuasive voice. But, for some reason, it made a lot of sense today.

Click on his email adress, and tell him that you'll kill the boy. Do it. Now. You want that money. You want to kill the boy.

Marcus violently fought the voice. No I don't! No. No. I won't take the job.

The voice responded in his head, growing harsher with each syllable. Take the goddamn job, kill the goddamn boy, and collect the goddamn money. You want to kill the boy. You want that money. NOW!.

"No! No!" Marcus shouted, twitching now. "I don't want...stop...shut up! No! I can't...I won't...." Tears were running freely down the sides of his face. "No...I..." He fell sideways off his computer chair, rolling on the hardwood and shouting incoherently.

The voice became calm. Now you know well enough not to fight me. That boy must die. At your hands. Get up.

Marcus did.

Good. Now send an email to Coatl saying you'll do it.

"No...I..."

Send the email to Coatl.

Marcus nearly collapsed once again, his hands clenched in a gnarled claw.

Send the email to Coatl.

"...Coatl..."

Yes. Do it.

Marcus, his legs furiously weak, slowly nodded, still occasionally twitching, and seated himself in his chair. He stumbled over his words like a dying man.

"The boy must...die."

Good. The boy must...

"...Die..." finished Marcus, his voice demonic and ominous. "...Die...die..."

Slowly, Marcus typed a reprehensible response. With each word, the voice's reasoning made more sense. He finished and sent it after about 20 minutes.

"That money is as good as mine."

Good.


I'll kill the boy. I want 150 million before the job is done, and the rest afterward. Is there any specific place you'd like the head sent? Give me any more details you have.

--Marcus L.--

Michael Coleman sat down at his computer desk, one hand holding a mug of coffee, the other holding a submaching gun. Never good to go anywhere unarmed...he looked around at the various messages on his computer when he came across one that looked fairly interesting. An ad to kill some 10-year old boy...no problem. Morals couldn't be had in this job, and his skill was unquestionable.
Coleman read across the advertisement to kill the boy, already plotting on how to do the job best, but quickly sent back a reply.

My name is Mike Coleman, a professional Bounty Hunter. I will take up your offer, you give me the payment upon completion of job. I will personally hand you the boy's head.

I'll kill the boy. I want 150 million before the job is done, and the rest afterward. Is there any specific place you'd like the head sent? Give me any more details you have.

--Marcus L.--

FROM: Serpent@daedalus.ota
BCC: Marcus L, Michael Coleman
ATTACHED: bankinfo.doc

Agreed. Your money is in a Jordaxian Bank account, number 2893537, registered to a mister Marco Traesus. Enclosed is the information required to access the account.

As for the target, his name is unknown and, frankly, irrelevant. He is intelligent enough not to answer to any alias besides the one he is currently using. He is believed to be seeking refuge in one of the local arcologies, most likely Nike. He is resourceful, so I suggest that you stay on your guard. One final note: Your payment will be doubled if you manage to bring him in alive. You may release him (or his corpse) to any Red Samurai precinct.

FROM: Serpent@daedalus.ota
BCC: Marcus L, Michael Coleman
ATTACHED: bankinfo.doc

Agreed. Your money is in a Jordaxian Bank account, number 2893537, registered to a mister Marco Traesus. Enclosed is the information required to access the account.

As for the target, his name is unknown and, frankly, irrelevant. He is intelligent enough not to answer to any alias besides the one he is currently using. He is believed to be seeking refuge in one of the local arcologies, most likely Nike. He is resourceful, so I suggest that you stay on your guard.

You got it. From your description, he seems like a few I've dealt with before. Don't worry about it. I'll get the job done. I have 15 years experience, and it won't go to waste on this case.

--Marcus L.

OOC: Question...what's an arcology? I looked it up, and gave me absolutely nothing.

OOC: Question...what's an arcology? I looked it up, and gave me absolutely nothing.
An arcology is short-hand for Architectural Ecology. It's a giant building that acts as a self-contained city. My designs hold up to about 5 million souls, along with a good deal of Red Samurai (my bizarre idea of a police force) and extensive factories and shopping districts. Luckily for you, Nike is one of the smaller models, holding only a few hundred thousand people. As its name implies, the factories contained in it are dedicated to arms manufacturing.

An arcology is short-hand for Architectural Ecology. It's a giant building that acts as a self-contained city. My designs hold up to about 5 million souls, along with a good deal of Red Samurai (my bizarre idea of a police force) and extensive factories and shopping districts. Luckily for you, Nike is one of the smaller models, holding only a few hundred thousand people. As its name implies, the factories contained in it are dedicated to arms manufacturing.
OOC: Kinda like the things in SimCity?

OOC: Kinda like the things in SimCity?
Pretty much, although more like the Renraku Arcology in downtown Seattle circa 2050.

An arcology is short-hand for Architectural Ecology. It's a giant building that acts as a self-contained city. My designs hold up to about 5 million souls, along with a good deal of Red Samurai (my bizarre idea of a police force) and extensive factories and shopping districts. Luckily for you, Nike is one of the smaller models, holding only a few hundred thousand people. As its name implies, the factories contained in it are dedicated to arms manufacturing.

OOC: Ok, thank you. That, actually, does sound familiar to SimCity.

Marcus checked his watch anxiously. 11:30 PM. He toted three large suitcases and bags onto the docks clumsily, but careful not to draw too much attention to himself. There was hardly a soul on the wharfs at this hour.

Marcus had just driven 400 miles from downtown Molvin to the docks of Westland, were he was to board a private, small ferry.

The moderately sized boat loomed into view. It seemed to only have a crew of about two dozen. The number of boarding passengers was minimal, essential for this to work.

He strode across the walkway and onto the ferry, where the captain, a clean-shaven man in his early 60s, greeted him and took his ticket.

"What's your name, sir?" he asked, glancing at the ticket.

"Lucius Pulliae. I assume my accomodations are ready?"

"Yes, sir. I'll have to check your bags, though."

Marcus shook his head calmly. He handed the captain a briefcase. "Open it."

The captain opened the case, to reveal a mass if tangled wires and the smell of plastic explosives.

The captain remained very calm, and closed the case. "Is that what I think it is?"

Marcus smirked, and replied slyly, "Of course." He opened another one of his bags, revealing a vast assortment of automatic weapons. "I want these to get past customs. I know you know how. You're very experienced, and you've done this before. I know."

The captain said nothing.

Marcus continued, dropping his voice down low. "I have connections. A surgeon friend of mine implanted a microchip near my heart. If it stops beating, this bomb incinerates the entire ferry. Otherwise, that case your holding is harmless. Ensure my safety, and your skin is saved."

The captain gathered his thoughts and façade. "And if I refuse?" he asked proudly.

"Oh, you won't refuse." He reached toward the third case, and unlocked it. He opened it for the captain to see. He gasped.

"In here is 11,000 elementeae, yours for the taking. So long as you get my guns across customs, and make sure you don't kill me. Or anyone else, for that matter."

The captain nodded, seizing the case. Marcus packed up his remaining two bags, and gave the captain a friendly nod. "Have an enjoyable voyage to Arbite City, Otagia, Mr. Pulliae," called the captain down the corridor. Marcus only smirked.

The boy could hear footsteps above him, the herds above moving about, living their lives in complete ignorance. Shopping, eating, defecating, sleeping, such boring, pointless lives. Moving through the comfortably tall crawlspace under the floor, the child clutched his favorite toy in his hand, munching on a bagful of chips held in the other.

Stepping through a access hatch, he was on street level now. Moving over to a soda machine, he grabbed a soda, and leaned back against the wall, watching the tides of people walk by. Looking up, he smiled at the bottom of a security camera. He was comfortably within its blind spot, so there was no way the Bad Men would find him that way. Now, all he had to do was place a few phone calls...

OOC: Humorously, there actually isn't a law against private ownership of assault weapons in Otagia. Of course, you'd have some slight trouble getting a license, so tis all good.

[Fort Carst, Triesa McKagan]

Major Driver walked through the dark hallways of the McKagan Imperial Security Agency base located in the tourist resort of Triesa, McKagan. Some had compared the city to Vice City, from the infamous Grand Theft Auto games; and in a sense, it was quite like that epic city.

The base was located at the mouth of an inlet channel into the city. It actually appeared fairly small, but was in reality a vast bunker of secrets and deception.

As Driver turned the last corner and walked into the opening of a room lit by the blue computer screens of a dozen operatives he noticed that a few of the operators were working around a single computer. This was a sign that something was up. Usually it meant that the MIDD had sent down a new addition to a hitlist or something, but this time it was different.

"John, this time it seems like a terrorist strike or something. I don't know, but the payout is 10 billion Quetzale. We've got an idea on how to get some easy cash out of this... all we need is for you to send the email..."

-

[Encrypted Message]

To: Serpent@daedalus.ota
From: John Driver, Paid Assassian

I am taking you up on your offer of 10 billion Quetzale for the assassination of a small child. I will move to the nation in several hours. However, I am known to work with a certain degree of paranoia and extreme operational security. Currently I have invested a vast majority of my available funds into stock in a multinational Weapons Firm, and thus have no available cash laying around to pay for my operations. If you could so nicely send me a pre-payment of 1 billion Quetzale I'll be on my way to making your life easier.

To: Serpent@daedalus.ota
From: John Driver, Paid Assassian

I am taking you up on your offer of 10 billion Quetzale for the assassination of a small child. I will move to the nation in several hours. However, I am known to work with a certain degree of paranoia and extreme operational security. Currently I have invested a vast majority of my available funds into stock in a multinational Weapons Firm, and thus have no available cash laying around to pay for my operations. If you could so nicely send me a pre-payment of 1 billion Quetzale I'll be on my way to making your life easier.

FROM: serpent@daedalus.ota
TO: John Driver

I'm afraid we'll be unable to accomodate you, Mr. Driver. Such funds are difficult to come by in such short periods of time. That, and we have no guarantee that you will be able to accomplish your goal. Show a bit more drive like several other of our contractors have and we'll happily send you a small portion of the reward in advance.

[OOC: Dammit, I was going to get you to pay Driver and then have him not do anything. :p]

[OOC: Dammit, I was going to get you to pay Driver and then have him not do anything. :p]

OOC: I realised that, and Coatl did too. Anyone asking for that much in advance is up to something. After all, is killing a twelve year old(ish) that hard?

David Quetzal paced through the security room, absent-mindedly flexing his new hand. Dozens, if not hundreds, of video feeds covered the massive display screens that adorned the walls, a dozen PRA savants devoted to finding the child. Jake Dalen lounged calmly in the corner, hawaiian print shirt and giant cigar looking absurdly out of place as usual.

"God dammit, Jake, we will find this kid. He can't hide forever, no matter WHAT he does. I want increased Samurai patrols in Nike, full battle gear, at least one Tetsu no Kami with each group."

"And what happens if they find him, Dave? Just pop him in the middle of the street?"

"Of course. I don't want him to have any chance of getting away from us. Even if I don't get to take him down myself, I want him dead. You hear me, Jake? DEAD!"

Standing, one of the Savants tapped a display with his finger, enlarging it to fill the wall.

"Sir, we've got him on camera 215. Picked him up half an hour ago, he can't have left Nike in that time."

"Good. Seal the building to all outgoing traffic, cite it as a potential leak in our cold virus stocks. Alert the contractors, I want them there as soon as humanly possible."

The Savant nodded, and turned back to single-mindedly monitoring the feeds pouring in from across the arcology.

______________________

The following message was sent out to the underworld community across the world.
FROM: Serpent@daedalus.ota
BCC: Marcus L, Michael Coleman, John Driver

Greetings. You may remember the job offer that I recently released. I am here to make your job easier: Your target has been located. He is in the Nike Arcology as we believed, and we have sealed the building to all outgoing traffic. You may move in to kill him at your leisure.

Yours,
Coatl

In the midnoon light, thousands of Otagian workers diluded the streets, all rushing through their lunch hours and eagar to get back to their jobs. Marcus occasionally took to the side alleyways, but mainly stayed on the sidewalk, as not to attract too much attention.

His vibrating pager rumbled and beeped at his belt. He quickly silenced it and swiftly checked the message.

--The boy is sealed at Nike. Get here as soon as possible--

The sunlight sparkling brillantly in his golden-flecked blue eyes, Marcus increased his speed twofold, thoughts spinning furiously through his mind. Remember, came the harsh voice in Marcus's head. Kill the boy, collect the money. Should be simple. Kill...money... The voice echoed itself several times, inducing an involuntary shiver down Marcus's spine. Stop it, I know responded Marcus's mind. The voice did not halt, but did distantly say yes.

Marcus pulled his physical body into a secluded alley. You shut the hell up. Shut up. Stop talking.

The voice mocked him painfully. Stop talking. Yes. Kill and money. Bullets through head of twelve. The voice spiraled into a meandering, contradictory tirade. The twelve die, get 10 billion. Stop talking. Yes. hell...stop voice...die...killed. The twelve dead, shut get money.

Marcus shook his head, massaging his temples gently. The voice had gone.

*******

Two handguns were concealed at Marcus's belt, and one at each ankle. He was clad all in black, with a wool beanie jauntily fitted over his sand-tinted hair. The large duffel bag he was carrying held an uzi with over 300 rounds, a ZSR-109 Automatic/Assault Rifle with 450 rounds, another hand gun, and a shotgun with 30 rounds. He also had 4 Molotov cocktails, and other various explosives. He had to be prepared for any occurance.

He strode into the complex, and made his way to the security office...

Khonsu looked at the message.

"Savages. Hunting a small boy... Advisor, I want... "Them" in the field within 6 hours. Save that kid."

"Aye sir."

The plane carrying sixteen of Them left a secret location immediately.

OOC: "They" are my nations most elite troops. ELITE troops. I'm talking the modern equivalent of Spartan Hoplites, without the "soldiers only" thing.

Upon hearing word that a small boy had been placed under a large bounty, President Holtz called upon a crack team of Holy Paradisian Elite Soldiers to protect the boy from any sickos who would kill him.

"I don't care if you find out he's the son of a terrorist, he is a small and innocent boy, and anyone who attacks him I want you to shoot dead. If he's dead before you get there, find out the SOB who did it, and bring his ass down. Understand?" President Holtz ordered.

"Yes, sir!"

Within an hour, the squad was on its way to Otagia.

To: Holy Paradise

From: Pythogria

Re: Ah. I see we have similar goals.

Text: We see you are going to protect this boy. Perhaps we could join forces in this matter?

To: Holy Paradise

From: Pythogria

Re: Ah. I see we have similar goals.

Text: We see you are going to protect this boy. Perhaps we could join forces in this matter?
Official Statement of President John Holtz of Holy Paradise:
"Of course. Joined forces will help our cause more."

All right. We'll launch a red flare to give you insight on our position.

OOC: Like the new message font I'm using?

"Alright, boys! Listen up!" the commander, Kraig Neilson, yelled, as the copter neared Otagia City.(OOC: Let's say the team was sent when this whole thing started.) "Group 1, I want you to look around in the slums, find the scum who want this boy dead, see if they have any info on the guy who wants the kid dead. Group 2, I want you to meet up with the Pythogrians. Group 3, we're going to search the city looking for the boy. Anyone attacks us, shoot them dead. Try to remain inconspicous. Now, let's rock and roll!" he yelled as the copter landed outside of the city. The men got dressed in disguises and began the search.

All right. We'll launch a red flare to give you insight on our position.

OOC: Like the new message font I'm using?
Coded message
From: Lt. Kraig Nielson, Holy Paradise Elite Army, 2nd Corps, 45th division
To: Pythogrian protection squad
Subj: Meeting
I'm sending a group of my boys to meet you. They'll be looking for the flare.

OOC: I do like that font

IC: Group 1 soon reached the slums of Otagia City. They were in a pitiful state. The sounds of crashing and the occasional gunshot soon became normal to the group. They were under a highway where a bunch of gangs were hanging out, smoking cigarettes. One of them spied the Holy Paradisians. "Hey, guys, look at those snobs." one said.

"I bet they have some money on them." another gang member replied.

"Yeah....." the first one smiled. He began walking towards the group. "Get your hands on your weapons, boys." Sgt. Chris Brown whispered to his men. "Threat at 3 o'clock." The men put their hands on their assault rifles. The gang member pulled out a knife. Chris responded by pulling out his M16. "Hands on your head, maggot!" Chris yelled. The gang member's eyes bulged and he placed his hands on his head. "Drop the knife or we'll shoot!" Chris continued. The gang member complied and dropped it.

"What's your name, sir?"
"Mike Coleman...I'm here on governmental business and reserved a suit here in Nike. Anything else?"
"Very good sir, you are permitted in. See the Security Office if you need anything...special."

Mike Coleman walked in past Nike Arco's security systems to his room. He already knew he was slightly behind the other Bounty Hunters in arriving, but his finesse could surely make up for that, and he had been informed about the boy's position in Nike Arco. In his room, Mike fiddled around with his submachine gun after knocking out a single camera in the room on "accident". He loaded a full ammo clip in, then checked the sniper rifle on his back, ensuring that it was fully fuctional. Mike got an affirmative on that, then attached several grenades to a bandolier with other ammo clips. He checked both pistols on his hip belt, and seeing them both good, left his room, almost a walking arsenal. But with the confirmation of the boy in the Arco, the security patrols just nodded casually as he passed them with submachine gun in hand. Coleman headed down to Security to hear about last fixes on the boy's position.

The men arrived at a standard airport and got in line for customs. They all entered seperate lines, no need to arouse suspicion. They all carried only a few weapons; a handgun, knife, and sealed poison capsules. Nothing metal, they shouldn't be caught. The handgun and knife were both plastic. Would customs let them through? Likely.

The Pythogrian squad leader sent up a red flare, illuminating the night sky.

OOC: Launching a flare in an Arco... just doesn't work. There's a ceiling. A thirty foot high ceiling on most thoroughfares in the Arco, but still a ceiling. And note that gangers would more likely have burst-firing 13mm pistols than a few knives.


The Bad Men are coming.

Ducking under a girder, the child peered upwards, hearing heavy footfalls as the vague shapes of armored Samurai moved above. Clutching his toy to his chest, he quietly moved amongst the support struts, making as little noise as possible.

My friends will kep me safe. They won't let the Bad Men get me...

_______________


The Samurai moved through the corridors, their HVARs linked to full autosense rigs, fully prepared to remove their target. The unit split up, fire teams clearing each building as they moved through the arcology. Nodding to his partner, Samurai Koromi pulled open the hatch to the maintenance tunnels and slid down the ladder. Flicking a toggle in his mask with his tongue, he switched to IR.

There, a target. Too small to be the objective. A rat?

Moving closer, he switched back to normal spectrum, activating his gun lamp.

Shit...

"Command, we have a situation down here. I think you better take a look at this."

Training his gun-cam on the object, it quickly coalesced into focus on the monitors in the security room:

A human head.

OOC: Let's allow this one launch ands weak gangsters, and then we'll go into the whole thing.

Also, am I in the security room? I landed on a highway...

"General" a man snapped to attention as he went into General Grimm's office “what is it?" "we just got this letter" hands him a note. The general sits there"...ok so that what's happening send in a force and lets see what's going on."
_________________________________________________________________
Bloodbank Special Forces had made it into Arco after hearing about the boy beening there. Their leader was the General himself after hearing about the report he had said he would handle himself so that nothing would go wrong. It had been a rush but after a jet rid he and his men had made it there in about 2 hours thanks to some more men in his nation bribeing their way thru Security. Now all they had to do was find the boy and find out what was going on. He had 15 men with him and others spared out in the country. They were riding in a semi while 5 where on Crotchroket’s and packing with a H&K G11 and 5 Ak-74's and three Jackhammer shotguns with the rest currying MP-5's and Beretta’s.

OOC: Let's allow this one launch ands weak gangsters, and then we'll go into the whole thing.

Also, am I in the security room? I landed on a highway...

OOC: Then you'd most likely be on the highway, and have to walk into Nike through one of the checkpoints, which are, of course, heavily populated with Samurai.

Coleman had gotten a feed on the last known position of the boy, and was already moving out, submachine gun at the ready, sniper riding his lowed back, pistols in the easy-removable holsters. Mike quickened his pace, using the occasional security station to get the latest feeds. Mike stood for a second, pondering. If I was a hunted child, what would I do? Coleman stood for a second, before a thought came. I would hide, yes, but where? Coleman looked around the large hallway, wondering how deep a small boy could get. Ventilation ducts, possibly, beneath the floors? Yes, that was possible. The walls weren't thick enough, so that was out. The ventilation may be too obvious, so that was out, even though children often went with the obvious. If this child was so wanted, than he was obviously smarter than the average child. Probaly the flooring. The steel girders and panels comprising the wide hallways could probaly be lifted enough to fit a smaller body frame. Coleman pondered the idea slightly a little longer.

OOC: This is "Them" we're talking about. How many is "heavily populated"? 20? 40? If need-be I'll call in a Stargazer bomber.

OOC: Heavily populated is several squads, so up to 40. And I wouldn't suggest a bomber, as the Arco has its own defense systems, from SAMs to CIWS to a few naval cannons mounted on the roof. The whole place is built like a fortress.

OOC: This is "Them" we're talking about. How many is "heavily populated"? 20? 40? If need-be I'll call in a Stargazer bomber.
OOC: A strategic bomber would probaly launch a war, here...

OOC: Hmm... so, stealth it is. I could bypass those checkpoints.

The General sat on the motocycle when his phone rang he picked it up"yes" "sir we got a locaten on the boy someone said he just saw him" tells him where the kids at"Thanks" looks at the driver of the semi and tells him"And hurry i got a bad feeling going on" "Yes Sir" He hits the gas and drivers as fast as he can

OOC: Hmm... so, stealth it is. I could bypass those checkpoints.
OOC: Well, you could go in through the water intake. If, that is, you could somehow bypass large fans, autoturrets, traps, three inch thick steel grates... You get the point. There's the official ways in, and that's about it.

Coleman believed he had a track. He had heard a slight clanking in the floorboards earlier, but had dismissed it, but now reports came in from Otagian Samurai patrols that something unusual was up, checked in from the security stations. Coleman felt he had an idea on this disturbance. He held his SMG in front of him lightly, trotting down the halls where he believed several noises were coming from. Coleman was thankful for his acute hearing and eyesight, as many others probaly wouldn't have heard the slight sounds that seemed to be eminating from down the hallway, barely noticable. But those such sounds were what charcterized runaways and convicts of the loose.

OOC: All fortresses have weak points... put anyway, we're going to have to go through a checkpoint. Hmm... explosives may help...

"There's the building" the general loaded his weapon"Drive thru that wall"WHAT" "JUST DO IT we'll worry about what happens after later got it" "...yes sir" they hit the wall at full speed and that stops the semi.

The Bad Men are after me now, yes they are. I've seen them coming...

Slumped against the wall, a thin wire lead from the side of the child's head to a Panic Button terminal. The child twitched, seemingly in pain. Without warning, the twitching stopped, and his eyes popped open. With a grin, he moved over towards a hatch in the wall, and tapped a few buttons. With a puff of air, the door came open, and a small wheeled drone rolled out. Turning its turret, its camera system looked up at the smiling boy.

Now I have more friends! Will you help me with the Bad Men, friends?

__________________

Koromi turned, looking about the crawlspace. The place was a charnel house. Body parts were strewn about the small corridor, blood dripping from the walls. Crouching, the Samurai picked up an identification badge.

"Sir, more bad news. The dead guy down here is Irakawa. He was operating a Tetsu no Kami, and there's no sign of the armor."

In the control room, Quetzal cursed.

"Get more men down there! The kid's got a full DNI rig, he can use that thing no problem. Call in a Legion from the Governmental Arcology. I don't want any mistakes."


"There's the building" the general loaded his weapon"Drive thru that wall"WHAT" "JUST DO IT we'll worry about what happens after later got it" "...yes sir" they hit the wall at full speed and that stops the semi.

Sadly for the general, the walls of the arcology were constructed of four meter thick tungsten reinforced concrete, made to resist atomic blasts and full fledged naval bombardment. The truck never stood a chance. Turning, a pair of Phalanx systems opened fire, 20mm shells ripping through the remains, gunning down any survivors where they stood.

"CRAP" Yelled the general as he saw his Truck go up in flames" Those were some good men ok i got another plan that won't fail we'll fall back and regroup"Him and the others on motocycles drove off to get more men for a attack

Coleman believed he had a track. He had heard a slight clanking in the floorboards earlier, but had dismissed it, but now reports came in from Otagian Samurai patrols that something unusual was up, checked in from the security stations. Coleman felt he had an idea on this disturbance. He held his SMG in front of him lightly, trotting down the halls where he believed several noises were coming from. Coleman was thankful for his acute hearing and eyesight, as many others probaly wouldn't have heard the slight sounds that seemed to be eminating from down the hallway, barely noticable. But those such sounds were what charcterized runaways and convicts of the loose.

"HELLO, MISTER COLEMAN."

The voice was nearly deafening, rattling the gridwork above the assassin, throwing dust down over him. Turning the corner, the powerful Tetsu no Kami battle armor opened fire with its Godslayer, a gargantuan 60mm shell barely missing the trained killer, exploding against the far wall of the passage way and sending shrapnel flying through the air.

"I BELIEVE YOU WERE LOOKING FOR SOMEONE, MISTER COLEMAN. I'M AFRAID I CAN'T ALLOW YOU TO BOTHER HIM FURTHER."

OOC: Hate doing this, but *bump*

OOC:Mind If I join?

"HELLO, MISTER COLEMAN."

The voice was nearly deafening, rattling the gridwork above the assassin, throwing dust down over him. Turning the corner, the powerful Tetsu no Kami battle armor opened fire with its Godslayer, a gargantuan 60mm shell barely missing the trained killer, exploding against the far wall of the passage way and sending shrapnel flying through the air.

"I BELIEVE YOU WERE LOOKING FOR SOMEONE, MISTER COLEMAN. I'M AFRAID I CAN'T ALLOW YOU TO BOTHER HIM FURTHER."
"Oh Crap!" shouted Mike, as he dived to the ground, another shell slicing where his body signature had just been a fraction of a second earlier. "What in the damn..."

Coleman slid behind the nearest steel pillar as another shell flew right past him, the wind from the round brushing his face as he dived again, shrapnel exploding up and outword. Coleman laid prone, his SMG out and poised as the battle suit stood before him, lobbing out shells, some horribly off target, some flying in way too close for comfort. Mike threw a fragmentation grenade towards the armor suit, knowing it wouldn't do much good, and sprinted behind the nearest adjacent wall, just diving in time to avoid the shrapnel blast of another explosive shell from the rig.

The second group quickly saw the flare and found the Pythogrians.

"What's the latest news?" Sgt. Bill Maxwell asked.

"Well, this situation is bleak. The only way to get into that fortress is to go through the checkpoints, but they've got autoturrets and samurai. 40 samurai, 6 autoturrets." The Pythogrian squad leader, 001, replied. "However, we could be able to overpower them if we suprise them."

"Well, this situation is bleak. The only way to get into that fortress is to go through the checkpoints, but they've got autoturrets and samurai. 40 samurai, 6 autoturrets." The Pythogrian squad leader, 001, replied. "However, we could be able to overpower them if we suprise them."
"So what's your scenario?" Bill asked.

OOC: Bill Maxwell is the conservative and dry FBI agent from the show, The Greatest American Hero.

"Well, using our Thunderclaps, we could take a few out. Tetsu no Kami's are heavily armored. How about we strike with Thunderclaps, have the other half our squad charge in, and you follow? Do you have any explosive weapons?"

Meanwhile, Group 3 was searching in the shopping district when they heard a loud "BOOM!" and the crackle of gunfire. "Follow that noise, boys!" Kraig Nielson shouted. The men began rushing towards a small stream of smoke floating slowly into the air, bewildering the townsfolk around them.

"What in heck was that?" 003, a squad member, asked. All the others pointed their guns around, looking to see if any enemy soldiers were around.

The armor unit still had Coleman pinned down in the Arco. He pulled out his sniper, avoiding fragments from another huge exploding shell from the suit, and aimed towards the head unit. Sniping was not Mike's number one skill, but he had a decent idea of where the head was, and looked around for any weak joints as a shell shot far off target. Mike pumped out one round at what seemed to be a weak unprotected area between two metal armor plates before he ducked behind his cover again.

"Well, using our Thunderclaps, we could take a few out. Tetsu no Kami's are heavily armored. How about we strike with Thunderclaps, have the other half our squad charge in, and you follow? Do you have any explosive weapons?"
Bill replied, "Well, we do have one unique weapon of ours. Ralph, show the man your 'toy'." Pvt. First Class Ralph Hinkley pulled out a medium-sized, spherical object. "This, sir, is the type A-1 upgraded high explosive grenade. Capable of causing damage to military personnel and armored vehicles within a 70 foot range around it. Only to be used by a qualified Holy Paradisian Elite Army Grenadier, I.E. me." Ralph explained.

001 gasped. "Wow. How about we chuck that in THEN charge in?"

001 gasped. "Wow. How about we chuck that in THEN charge in?"
Bill thought carefully about it, "I have an idea. We should throw in the A-1 and a Thunderclap at the same time, because the A-1, although effective against armor and infantry, did not fair so well against buildings. A 2-inch thick concrete wall didn't even get cracked by it. It was meant to be an anti-personell and armor weapon. The only reason we were able to increase its radius to 70 feet is because we made sure it had smaller and faster fragments get shot out, that's what damages the enemy, not the explosion itself. The explosion only has a range of about 10 feet. We need a thunderclap to break in, and a A-1 to disable the enemy."

"Well, then chuck it in, we use our Thunderclap rifles to finish off the enemy, we use our Thunderclaps to take out the autoturrets, and we break in. We have lots of rounds."

"Well, then chuck it in, we use our Thunderclap rifles to finish off the enemy, we use our Thunderclaps to take out the autoturrets, and we break in. We have lots of rounds."
"Thunderclaps are rifles? No matter, it sounds like a powerful weapon. You guys lead, we'll follow." Bill said.

"T olet you know, they shoot REALLY big, powerful, anti-armor rounds, REALLY fast. Mach 1, I believe. Anyway, let's go!"

The Holy Paradisian trooper Ralph chucked the A-1 grenade in, the Pythogrians fired Thunderclaps from the highway, and infantry charged, guns blazing.

"T olet you know, they shoot REALLY big, powerful, anti-armor rounds, REALLY fast. Mach 1, I believe. Anyway, let's go!"

The Holy Paradisian trooper Ralph chucked the A-1 grenade in, the Pythogrians fired Thunderclaps from the highway, and infantry charged, guns blazing.

"Move in boys!" Bill said. The group formed an offensive perimeter and opened fire on the enemies.

Six Pythogrian troopers opened fire with Thunderclaps on the turrets.

OOC: For regular fighting, my troops have an HVAR machine gun/assualt rifle.

Six Pythogrian troopers opened fire with Thunderclaps on the turrets.

OOC: For regular fighting, my troops have an HVAR machine gun/assualt rifle.
Group 1 and group 3 soon arrived, and began open firing on the enemies. Kraig yelled to Bill, "Damn good job, soldier! I'm going to recommend you for a promotion when we get back!"

OOC: Better wait for Otagia. Also, have more of those grenades? I'd like to purchase some!

OOC: Better wait for Otagia. Also, have more of those grenades? I'd like to purchase some!
We only have a small number of the grenades, and they are still in development. Wait until it is completely ready for mass production.

OOC: Ah. Once it's in full production, I'll purchase a few. (read: 400,000)

OOC: Ah. Once it's in full production, I'll purchase a few. (read: 400,000)
Very well. Currently, there are only 127(Now 126 after Ralph used it)

Also, Ralph Hinkley is the main character from the show, the Greatest American Hero. Good show.

OOC: Hmm. I should watch it sometime.

OOC: Hmm. I should watch it sometime.
Its no longer on (ended in 1983 or so) its on DVD however.

OOC: *makes notes to rent it*

OOC: Six autoturrets? There are a grand total of 80 CIWS on a Thalia pattern arcology, letting at least a full twenty fire on any given target, along with a naval turret on the roof and autoturrets inside.

As the Thunderclap shells impacted around the arcology surface, the Samurai squads threw themselves down behind the barricades, returning fire sporadically with their M25s (OOC: new version of the M22, not released yet. Lesson #1, save the best tech for yourselves), sending grenades flying towards the enemy positions, corromis and KoloBac gas spreading amongst the soldiers.

Above them, a pair of Phalanxes blew apart, but over a dozen more turned towards their attackers, perforating the offenders with thousands of 20mm shells. A trio of Tetsu no Kami skidded down the side of the arcology, firing their chainguns as they slid down to street level. A pair of Godslayer blasts sent their massive gyrojet rounds hurling with uncanny accuracy into the enemy positions.

"Command, we have unidentified attackers at the Southern checkpoint. Requesting reinforcements."

"Roger that, Checkpoint South. Hagane Legion is already inbound on your position via Thunderbird with Multiped support."

"Thanks for the quick response, Command. Should have these gangers dealt with quickly."

Coleman slid behind the nearest steel pillar as another shell flew right past him, the wind from the round brushing his face as he dived again, shrapnel exploding up and outword. Coleman laid prone, his SMG out and poised as the battle suit stood before him, lobbing out shells, some horribly off target, some flying in way too close for comfort. Mike threw a fragmentation grenade towards the armor suit, knowing it wouldn't do much good, and sprinted behind the nearest adjacent wall, just diving in time to avoid the shrapnel blast of another explosive shell from the rig.

"YOU CAN'T FIGHT FOREVER, MISTER COLEMAN. YOU MAY AS WELL GIVE YOURSELF UP NOW."

Pulling itself up from the ground after the grenade impact, the rain of bullets caught it in the chin blowing off its helmet, showing the face inside.

Or rather, the lack of a face.

Entirely empty except for some prodigous blood stains, the Tetsu no Kami advanced, casting aside its empty Godslayer, brandishing its arm blades threateningly.

"YOU MADE SOMEONE VERY ANGRY, MISTER COLEMAN. YOU TRIED TO HURT HIS FRIEND. NOW, YOU MUST PAY."

OOC: Huh? You never warned us about all that. Besides, there's no possible way that we could win if this is all here. Godmod! I'd understand using all of it in the case of a military assualt, but these guys are STEALTH!

OOC: Depending on the detection units, it may be possible to pick up stealth...you can bring in more guys and more armor, though, nothing says you can't for the moment...

IC: Mike glanced to see if his latest shot had done any real damage, and noticed the headless behemoth still waltzing up to his position, headless, lobbing off the occassional shell. Oh Shit, thought Coleman, There is nothing inside of that? Mike took off sprinting, as the rig's only weakness did seem to be its lack of speed, both pistols out occasionally glancing down the long corridor to see if the armor unit had rounded the corner yet. If it did, he could be in some pretty big trouble...

OOC: I don't want to get into a full-scale war with Otagia... I'd be creamed! "they" are pretty much untracable to Pythogria. But Otagia, I'd like to be ABLE to get in there, OK?

As the firefight raged on, at least 3 men were wounded by gunfire. Other turrets had begun firing on the HP/Pythogrians. "Dammit! These guys are good, I gotta give them credit for that." Kraig yelled before shooting an enemy square in the chest.

OOC: Oh, fine, I'll go with it. Also, I'd say most of the Samurai are finished, aye?

IC:

001 panted. "Gah! we need to take down those turrets!" He paused to fill an enemy with bullets. "Do you have anything that could take em' out?"

The six Thunderclap operators blasted the three Tetsu no Kami sliding down the arcology.

"Aaahhh!" An elite soldier screamed. "Jim!!!!" Kraig yelled. "No, Jim, don't die on me, you have a family to go home to, you have a life unlike these scumbags we're fighting!"

"Kraig, I understood the risks when I volunteered for this job." Jim sighed.

"Jim, I'm not going to let you die." Kraig sobbed.

"Kraig, its too... late for me. The only way I'll feel vin....vin...vindicated is if you complete this mission." Jim stuttered, blood dripping from his chest. "Give this to my family." Jim pulled out a note, saying the following:

"To my wife, Charlene, and my kids, Sarah and Drew,

If you're reading this letter, it means I am no longer with you. I just want to tell you guys I love you so much. I died to save you from tyranny, from evil, to protect the innocent. And, though, I may no longer stand physically next to you when you're down, sad, and sobbing, know that the Lord above and me will stand on each side of you in spirit, and that I will be ready to greet you when you are ready. We will all be with each other in heaven someday. May God bless you all, and in His arms, may you be kept safe and well."

"You're not going to die, Jim. Agent 001!" Kraig yelled.

OOC: Oh, fine, I'll go with it. Also, I'd say most of the Samurai are finished, aye?

IC:

001 panted. "Gah! we need to take down those turrets!" He paused to fill an enemy with bullets. "Do you have anything that could take em' out?"

The six Thunderclap operators blasted the three Tetsu no Kami sliding down the arcology.
"You bet I do," Kraig said while pulling out a small anti-tank missile launcher. "Just get Jim to safety while I blow the things away." He loaded a missile into the gun, hoisted it over his shoulder, aimed, and fired.

"Yes?" 001 came over. "Holy... 003, GET YOUR BUTT OVER HERE!!!"

003 ran to the scene, and immediately begam to treat Jim.

It was bad. Jijm had multiple wounds to the chest, leg and one in the head. 003 however, being an experienced medic, bandaged Jim up, and called for an evac helicopter.

OOC: Do your troops have any good body armor?

"Yes?" 001 came over. "Holy... 003, GET YOUR BUTT OVER HERE!!!"

003 ran to the scene, and immediately begam to treat Jim.

It was bad. Jijm had multiple wounds to the chest, leg and one in the head. 003 however, being an experienced medic, bandaged Jim up, and called for an evac helicopter.

OOC: Do your troops have any good body armor?
OOC: Yes, but if a certain point is hit multiple times, as in Jim's case, its ripped open and the soldier is wounded.

OOC: Well, do you think Jim should die, or miraculously survive? My nation's got good medical tech (some involving genetics(, but I'm ot sure I'm THAT good.

OOC: Well, do you think Jim should die, or miraculously survive? My nation's got good medical tech (some involving genetics(, but I'm ot sure I'm THAT good.
How 'bout a miracle. Everyone loves miracles. But he will be out of combat of course.

OOC: All right. He won't be in combat any time soon though. Also, you'll have to RP his family allowing me to use genetic technology to heal him for that to happen.

OOC: All right. He won't be in combat any time soon though. Also, you'll have to RP his family allowing me to use genetic technology to heal him for that to happen.

OOC: Okay, have agent 003 contact President Holtz, k?

OOC: Will do.

IC:

The medic evac helicopter (a Knighthawk) soon arrived, and Jim was put on it. Agent 003 soon sent President Holtz this:

To: President Holtz

From: Agent 003 (Pythogria)

Re: Emergency!

Text: One of your troopers, Jim, has been severely injured. About the only way I can save him is to use genetic technology, but to use it I need permission. Granted or not?

OOC: Will do.

IC:

The medic evac helicopter (a Knighthawk) soon arrived, and Jim was put on it. Agent 003 soon sent President Holtz this:

To: President Holtz

From: Agent 003 (Pythogria)

Re: Emergency!

Text: One of your troopers, Jim, has been severely injured. About the only way I can save him is to use genetic technology, but to use it I need permission. Granted or not?

President Holtz read the message from Agent 003. Holtz replied with this:

"Permission granted to use genetic technology to attempt to save him. May God guide you in your attempt."

003 read the message. Wasting no time, he grabbed a needle labeled, "HAS".

003 injected Jim with it. Jim's eyes opened, and he began to twitch a little. He then, literally, fell asleep.

OOC: HAS (short for Healing Accellerant) would work by breaking down energy in cells and speeding healing and wen used on chldren, boosting growth, and, when used on adults, RESTARTING and accelerating growth. He'll grow an inch taller, lose a lot of weight, fall into a coma for a week, and then wake up and have a TON of energy for a day or so, but his wounds wil lmost likely be no longer threatening within a couple hours, and will be completely healed wthin a few weeks. (Expect him to be a little mentally slow for a while until his brain is fully healed though. And YES, I know this is highly PMT.)

003 read the message. Wasting no time, he grabbed a needle labeled, "HAS".

003 injected Jim with it. Jim's eyes opened, and he began to twitch a little. He then, literally, fell asleep.

OOC: HAS (short for Healing Accellerant) would work by breaking down energy in cells and speeding healing and wen used on chldren, boosting growth, and, when used on adults, RESTARTING and accelerating growth. He'll grow an inch taller, lose a lot of weight, fall into a coma for a week, and then wake up and have a TON of energy for a day or so, but his wounds wil lmost likely be no longer threatening within a couple hours, and will be completely healed wthin a few weeks. (Expect him to be a little mentally slow for a while until his brain is fully healed though. And YES, I know this is highly PMT.)

OOC: Fair enough.

OOC: Good. Also, I won't use this often. The stuff is EXPENSIVE. I'm talking millions per needle!

IC: With Jim safe, all of the troopers rejoined the firefight.

OOC: We need to wait for Otagia again...

OOC: Huh? You never warned us about all that. Besides, there's no possible way that we could win if this is all here. Godmod! I'd understand using all of it in the case of a military assualt, but these guys are STEALTH!
OOC: Should have thought of that before you chose to assault an Arcology. You're just lucky that the Legion inside the thing is occupied. And stealth means very little to remote controlled turrets fired upon from a nearly empty highway. Not my fault you didn't just walk in the front door.

OOC:Mind If I join?
OOC: Sorry for the delay, kinda lost your post. Feel free.

IC:
The missile slammed into the arcology, taking out another one of the turrets, leaving plenty more to continue raining down 20mm shells at over four thousand rounds a minute, showering the attackers with high exlosives. The Tetsu no Kami juked, dodging the initially sluggish Thunderclap rounds with relative ease, returning fire with pinpoint accuracy.

From the other direction, the reinforcements were finally arriving. A squadron of bean sidhe gunships buzzed the attackers, raking them with fire from their miniguns and bombarding them with anti-personnel rockets. A trio of Manticore multiped tanks rolled down the highway, howitzers bombarding the area with more corromis and kolobac gas, enough chemical weapons to knock out an elephant in full NBC gear in a microsecond. The legion had encircled the enemy forces, there was no chance for them to escape.


IC: Mike glanced to see if his latest shot had done any real damage, and noticed the headless behemoth still waltzing up to his position, headless, lobbing off the occassional shell. Oh Shit, thought Coleman, There is nothing inside of that? Mike took off sprinting, as the rig's only weakness did seem to be its lack of speed, both pistols out occasionally glancing down the long corridor to see if the armor unit had rounded the corner yet. If it did, he could be in some pretty big trouble...
OOC: It dropped its gun (Godslayers only hold six rounds). It's coming after you with the blades built into its arms now. And there's a pretty good way available for you to take it out still (not that I'm telling, but you'd better be good at baseball), even though it's empty.

IC:
The empty suit turned the corner, steadying itself as it advanced down the maintenance corridor towards its prey.

"I'M COMING, MISTER COLEMAN. YOU MADE MY FRIEND ANGRY. YOU REALLY DON'T WANT TO SEE HIM ANGRY, MISTER COLEMAN. STAY STILL AND YOU'LL NEVER HAVE TO."

Brad's Thunderbird circled above the arcology, watching the firefight at the south enterance.

What kind of idiot do you have to be to make a frontal assault on an arcology? Ah well, none of my business.

He swung the Thunderbird around to the north side of the arcology and swooped into one of the landing bays hidden beneath the arcology.

"Nike air control, this is Ald Rhun air-craft Dirty Girl. Requesting permission to land, over."

"Permission granted, Dirty Girl. I suggest avoiding the south enterance, there seems to be some sort of terrorist attack underway. Don't worry, it's under control, there's no risk to you or any other inhabitants of Nike, over."

"Thank you, Nike air control. Already making my approach to northern landing bay 12. Have a good one."

__________________________

"Care to explain this, Mr. Gendo?"

The customs agent held up the large duffel bag Brad had brought with him, stuffed quite obviously to the brim with weapons and heavy ordnance.

"Just exercising my right to bear arms, Sir. And taking care of a little rat problem."

"Very well. Enjoy your stay at Nike Arcology."

"Kraig, I suggest we fall back. I don't care about the boy, but... this... this is impossible. We'd need sattellites to crack this!

David Quetzal leaned on the control console, frowning as he watched Coleman stagger back into view of a security camera, followed by the empty bulk of Irakawa's Tetsu no Kami. Marching over to the weapons rack on the wall, he started suiting up, strapping into a suit of Akuma power armor.

"Dave, what the hell do you think you're doing?!"

Sealing the front of the suit, Quetzal turned, methodically calibrating its systems to his biometrics. The electroactive musculature rippled, fitting itself to its wearer. Lifting the chaingun mounted on his arm, the man levelled it at the wall, priming his smartgun systems.

"The contractors have been unsuccessful so far, Dalen. We've cornered the Shinigami, but a cornered beast is far more dangerous than one you allow to imagine that it's free. The only way they're going to survive this is if we give them a bit more assistance. Recall all contractors that have yet to engage the target, bring them to the nearest armory. I'll extract Mr. Coleman from the mess he's gotten himself into."

"Are you crazy, David? You know what that thing's capable of, it already took off one of your arms. You want to lose your head this time?"

Levelling the cannon at Jake's head, Quetzal's face was totally calm. His business face.

"There's no other way, Dalen. You're either with me or against me. Which will it be?"

"God, David, with you. Since when am I not?"

"Good. Now, get all the contractors down here, NOW."


_______________

A cackle rose from the Tetsu no Kami's non-existant throat as it lunged towards its prey, missing the man by a centimeter as its claws dug into the concrete wall. Lashing out with its elbow blades, the armor shredded the front of Coleman's shirt, barely grazing his skin, leaving a thin red line across his chest. Howling, it came at him on all fours, seemingly devolved into a wild beast as its unseen controller pressed the attack.

"NO ONE LIVES FOREVER, MISTER COLEMAN. JUST GIVE IN TO THE INEVITABLE, FEEL MY CLAWS TEAR THROUGH YOUR FLESH, WATCH THEM VENT THE RED FROM YOUR BODY. FACE IT, MISTER COLEMAN, YOU'RE GOING TO DIE, AND THERE'S NOTHING YOU CAN DO ABOUT IT."

OOC: Ah, I get you...

IC: Coleman ducked as the blade sheared by him by mere millimeters, shearing off a portion of hair above his head, the machine in front wild and unpredictable. Coleman was reacting on instincts alone now, merely reacting to the moves of the metal beast in front of him. With the head removed, Coleman jumped over a low slash by the behemoth and dived backwards, at the same time arcing a fragmentation grenade into the hole made by the beheading. Not waiting to see the explosion, Mike somersaulted when he hit the ground, jumping to his feet and backpedaling down the hall to see what kind of damage he could inflict from the grenade.

Roaring in anger, the suit reared up again onto its hind limbs, bellowing its displeasure, franticly trying to remove the grenade from its interior as it clawed at its chest. With a muffled thump, the suit bulged, its limbs spasming as the explosion tore at its internal systems, throwing it back against the wall. Slumping to the ground, the beast was finally still.

"WELL DONE, MISTER COLEMAN. YOU'VE MANAGED TO KILL ONE OF HIS PLAYTHINGS."

Behind Coleman stood the massive form of an Akuma, fresh from the arcologies production lines, its crimson decorations and daemonic faceplate clearly marking it as Red Samurai property.

"YOU WILL COME WITH ME, MISTER COLEMAN, IF YOU WISH TO LIVE TO COLLECT YOUR PAYMENT."

Mike didn't think much danger would come from this one, so he merely nodded, holstered his weapons, and followed the machine.

As the doors to the Security Room opened, a pair of autoturrets immediately focused on the pair walking into the room. The massive Akuma raised its fist to a camera, waited a moment, and strode forward, motioning for Coleman to follow him.

Entering the chamber proper, a dozen Red Samurai immediately trained their HVARs on the newcomers. Seeing the Akuma, they relaxed, and turned back to watching the security monitors, keeping an eye on the Savants and their work.

Stepping forward, a balding man in a rather garish Hawaiian print shirt and a massive grin offered Coleman his hand.

"Welcome to Nike Arcology proper, Mister Coleman. Sorry for the poor reception, it's so hard to find good help these days. We saw your kill on our security monitors, a damn nice job there. Oh, but where are my manners? The name's Oni, I help run things in these parts. I see you've already met my good friend Coatl."

The massive suit of power armor raised its hand and waved from its crouched position watching over the security feeds.

Coleman took his hand and shook it twice. "Pretty nice security establishments you've got in here."

The door to the security room opened again, and Brad, escorted by two Red Samurai, stumbled in.

"Look, I don't care what those two say, it wasn't mine. I've never even seen it before in my lif- oh. I assume this is about that bounty, then?"

"AH. MISTER GENDO. GOOD TO SEE YOU STOPPED BY HERE BEFORE GOING LOOKING FOR OUR YOUNG FRIEND. YOU SEE, HE'S RATHER TEMPERAMENTAL AT THE MOMENT AND THERE'S A FEW THINGS WE NEED TO MAKE CLEAR."

Standing, Coatl touched the display at several points, bringing up a list of numbers in green and red. Oni moved forward, gesturing at the display

"The table here is a list of all the combat drones in Nike. The green ones are in perfect condition, tip-top shape, AIs and weapons reporting ready for duty. The red ones, however, don't exist. At least not any more. The target appears to have hacked into the drone network, and has subverted a number of them, mostly Steel Lynxes. This means that our little friend is now far more heavily armed than initially believed. Of course, he doesn't precisely need to be armed, judging by what he did to Irakawa.

"The current plan is to work together. The blighter is dangerous enough one on one, we figured we might as well even the odds a bit. Any questions?"

OOC: pokity

"Working together certainly sounds appealing after what I just saw." remarked Coleman sarcastically.

OOC: Dreadfully sorry for the long break there, Spring Break messed with my RPing ability horribly.

IC:

"GOOD. THEN WE'RE IN AGREEMENT. WE'LL BREAK INTO TWO GROUPS. I AND GENDO WILL TAKE THREE SQUADS OF SAMURAI. COLEMAN, YOU AND ONI WILL BE IN CHARGE OF YOUR OWN THREE SQUADS. YOU ARE TO FIND THE CHILD AND KILL IT BY ANY MEANS NECCESSARY."

Picking up an M25 in his massive gauntlets, Coatl tossed the gun to Coleman.

"FROM THE LOOKS OF IT, YOU MIGHT WANT A BIT HEAVIER FIRE POWER. URANIUM ROUNDS, ARMOR PIERCING GRENADES IN THE LAUNCHER. HAPPY HUNTING."

With a wave of his hand, Coatl moved out the door, with Gendo and his Samurai in tow.

___________________

Far below the Security Center, the Child leaned back against the wall, his limbs subtly twitching, eyelids fluttering as data poured directly into his brain. A thin smile appeared on his lips, an expression more suited to a rabid beast than the small boy sitting on the floor.

Pulling the electrodes from his head, the Child disconnected from the security feed. The Bad Men were coming again. By now, you would think they had learned. But no, they didn't. And it only made it easier for the Child to get his revenge...

"This works for me." responded Coleman, as he followed the three out the door, toting the gun. "What's with this kid, anyway, using such heavy guns? Most kids just have skateboards..."

"If I told ya, I'd have to kill you. Nah, just yanking your chain. Too far fetched for anyway to believe you anyway... The kid is an adolescent Shinigami. You ever heard of them? No, of course you wouldn't have. Blackest of the black projects, them. Geneered to be the perfect assassins, they're not even close to human. The fethers are just plain brutal. You've seen what this one can do, and it's not even full grown yet. Hell, he managed to mangle Irakawa up pretty badly with his bare hands. Pretty good augmetics program going into them, too. Top of the line bleeding edge drek in 'em. Gives me nightmares sometimes..."

He stopped at a massive freight elevator, and called it to their level. A quartet of Akuma suits covered the elevator as it rose, ensuring that no drones were hitching a ride.

"So, any thing else you want to ask before we go get shot at?"

"You ready for the fightin'?" Coleman smiled. He grasped his gun tightly, cocking the safety.

OOC: um,. bumpage

OOC: Sorry, work got in the way. Will try to post more consistently (kicks self).

Oni grinned.

"Now THAT'S what I like to hear! Right, this is our floor. LOCK AND LOAD, BOYS!"

As the massive blast door opened, the Samurai bolted out the door, taking up defensive positions behind any cover that happened to be around. As massive suits of Akuma battle armor marched down the corridor, an army of drones poured towards them. Small arms fire rattled against the wall of power suits, richocheting off them and into the air. Standing in the middle of them, Coatl bellowed orders.

"SAMURAI! COVERING FIRE!"

With a thunderous barrage, a dozen chainguns opened fire, hundreds of rounds slamming home against the incoming drones, ripping through their armor plating and shattering chipsets. With the Akumas acting as living shields, the Red Samurai advanced, clearing the rooms off of the hall with deadly precision, using the doorways for cover from the oncoming drones. Grenades flew from their rifles, shattering the chassis of their attackers and sending rubble flying. A pair of crimson-clad figures went down, perforated by high velocity rounds from a drone's minigun, before the killer was hit in its tracks by a Godslayer shell, detonating the entire drone in a ball of flame.

And with that, the fight was over. Samurai marched through the rubble, confirming each kill. Oni crouched next to one of the more intact drones, rooting through the wreckage. He pulled a small chipset from it, and frowned. Motioning Coatl and Coleman over, he lifted the card into the light.

"You ever see one of these in a Steel Lynx before? No? Good, because this thing isn't supposed to be here. It just doesn't belong. One sec..."

Moving to another drone, he pulled an identical chip from its guts.

"Damn! I knew it! I just knew it! David, we have a major problem here. We have to shut down the factories in this Arcology. And we have to take down this damn Shinigami, and do it now!"

Coleman let his weapon cool, looking over the remains of the attackers.

"And Jesus, that's only the first wave...what is that little chip? Some sort of beacon device?"

Frowning, Oni turned the chip in his hand.

"Not a tracking device, a slave chip. Once the right signal is broadcast to it, the things revert to the control of whoever broadcast the signal. PRA generally includes one in all their drones, but this one is different. It doesn't respond to PRA's signal. Which means someone else hijacked the damn things. Of course, you knew this already, right? Of course you did. I told you up in Security. What I didn't tell you is that this chip isn't fresh. It's old. It's been in this drone since it was made. Which means that the factories here are pumping out compromised drones, and that this Shinigami can take them over."

OOC: Sorry I was out

IC: "Well, that's not exactly good news." Coleman said sarcastically. "Shutting down the factory may be the good option at this point."

"Figures. Always knew this PRA junk wasn't worth shit. Nothing personal, boyos."

At the back of the elevator, Brad finished strapping into his ARES Man-o'-War arm-suit.

"Now. Where exactly does intel think this bastard is hiding? I have a present to give our little friend."

"Yeah, I'd like to repay him for that earlier encounter..." Coleman added, "he can have the skin taken off his ass next time."