ChevyRocks
18-05-2006, 01:15
(If interested, see the OOC / Sign-Up thread here (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=483100).)
Superior Petroleum
Platform #3
340 nm S of Wolfe Island
2200 hrs
There was no more sunlight now, it had gone down hours ago, and the last traces of it’s existence had faded to the west. Only the lights of the oil rig were providing illumination as the clouds came in and blocked out the moonlight. Second shift had just gotten off, and in a few minutes, the third shift would be starting their work. Nathan Greene was tired after his shift. He was sweaty, worn out, and reeked of the smell of crude oil. His ears rung from the near-constant noise of machinery, extracting the “black gold” from the vast oil fields under the Enterian Sea.
For now, though, it was peaceful. Nathan could hear the waves pounding off the mooring of the rig and the conversations of fellow workers in the background. He never much liked oil rig work. It was long hours, hard work, and very dangerous. But it was good pay, about 130,000 Edsels a year for Nathan, and he needed money desperately. So not having much brain smarts, he signed up at Superior Petroleum. For two years, he worked on the northern rigs off mainland ChevyRocks. It was even worse there; some days he wondered whether he’d get killed from an accident on the rig or because of the extreme cold and vicious storms. Recently, however, he’d been told that S.P. was setting up new rigs in the Irathrian continent, to bolster the new colony in it’s southeastern regions. The best part was that it was much warmer; not tropical like in the colony itself, but better than the arctic climate he’d endured prior. And new equipment too, no more accidents because of drilling machines blowing apart. His brother Jason, had also signed up with Nathan. For now, though, he was over on Platform #1, working the third shift.
----------------------------------------------------------
Superior Petroleum
Platform #1
345 nm S of Wolfe Island
2205 hrs
Either there was an earthquake going on, or something awfully large had just contacted Platform #1. Jason Greene was eating his “breakfast” before the start of his shift at 2215, prior to being disturbed by the noise. In the platform’s cafeteria, him and about a dozen other workers started walking towards the door, to investigate the source of the disturbance. Jason walked up to a large window and saw a rather large cruise ship, which most likely was what hit the rig. It had no lights on at all, and could only see it because of the platform’s powerful spotlights.
“What the hell, is the ship adrift or something?” he thought out loud.
Another worker, one he didn’t know, opened the door to the outside walkway. Just as he did this, Jason saw several dozen people on the deck of the cruise ship come out of the shadows with assault rifles. Then it came to him…
“Jesus…GET DOWN!!!”
But it was too late for the five men already outside. As Jason dived away from the window, he could hear the distinctive crack of AK-47s while the five outside were brutally gunned down. Who? Why? Jason wondered this, but had no time to figure it out. He ran towards the security room, and unlocked the cabinet. As oil was a precious commodity these days, they were armed to the teeth. He grabbed an M4 carbine rifle and several spare magazines. Then he pulled his cell phone from his pocket and called his brother, Nathan.
“Hello?”
“Nathan! Thank god you’re still awake. We’re under attack here!! I don’t know what’s going on, man, they just shot five of our guys, and they’re still shooting. I don’t know how many of them there are!! Get a hold of somebody, call this in!!”
“You’re being attacked? How did they get there?”
“It’s a cruise ship!! They collided with the platform, and when we went to figure out what was going on they opened fire on us!!” (“Move forward, my dogs!” Could be heard in the background.)
“What’s that voice, Jason? Tell me more!”
“Sorry, I gotta go, I love you, brother.”
He shut his phone off, and loaded the M4. As the hostiles started getting to the level Jason was on, he returned fire. He had learned to shoot from his father when he was quite young, and was an excellent marksman. He took down one, two, three men that came around the corner in the hallway. Another half dozen came and he took them down too. He heard more from behind and turned around quick, not remembering exactly how many he shot. But he had emptied the magazine. As he was reloading, more came from behind again. Before he got off a shot, he was struck in the arm by a round. As the pain registered, he lost grip of the rifle. When he grabbed for it on the floor, he was hit several times in the stomach and chest.
The firing stopped. Jason was struggling for air, and he could feel his life fading fast. A few moments later, a tall man with spiked white hair walked down the hallway. As Jason took his last few gasps of air, the man removed a .357 Magnum revolved from a side holster, and discharged a single round into Jason’s head.
The mysterious man was Leepak Tupo. He had weeks prior carried out the shoot down and assassination of the Vice President. He had taken his pseudo-cult political group and hijacked five cruise ships. His surviving “soldiers” now gathered around him.
“What should we do now, my lord?”
“Kill anybody surviving. And prepare our new weapons. They won’t dare attack an oil platform, crude oil is more valuable than gold these days. The clean-up and the rebuilding of the platform would cost billions, not to mention the political repercussions. Now, go my dogs!”
Superior Petroleum
Platform #3
340 nm S of Wolfe Island
2200 hrs
There was no more sunlight now, it had gone down hours ago, and the last traces of it’s existence had faded to the west. Only the lights of the oil rig were providing illumination as the clouds came in and blocked out the moonlight. Second shift had just gotten off, and in a few minutes, the third shift would be starting their work. Nathan Greene was tired after his shift. He was sweaty, worn out, and reeked of the smell of crude oil. His ears rung from the near-constant noise of machinery, extracting the “black gold” from the vast oil fields under the Enterian Sea.
For now, though, it was peaceful. Nathan could hear the waves pounding off the mooring of the rig and the conversations of fellow workers in the background. He never much liked oil rig work. It was long hours, hard work, and very dangerous. But it was good pay, about 130,000 Edsels a year for Nathan, and he needed money desperately. So not having much brain smarts, he signed up at Superior Petroleum. For two years, he worked on the northern rigs off mainland ChevyRocks. It was even worse there; some days he wondered whether he’d get killed from an accident on the rig or because of the extreme cold and vicious storms. Recently, however, he’d been told that S.P. was setting up new rigs in the Irathrian continent, to bolster the new colony in it’s southeastern regions. The best part was that it was much warmer; not tropical like in the colony itself, but better than the arctic climate he’d endured prior. And new equipment too, no more accidents because of drilling machines blowing apart. His brother Jason, had also signed up with Nathan. For now, though, he was over on Platform #1, working the third shift.
----------------------------------------------------------
Superior Petroleum
Platform #1
345 nm S of Wolfe Island
2205 hrs
Either there was an earthquake going on, or something awfully large had just contacted Platform #1. Jason Greene was eating his “breakfast” before the start of his shift at 2215, prior to being disturbed by the noise. In the platform’s cafeteria, him and about a dozen other workers started walking towards the door, to investigate the source of the disturbance. Jason walked up to a large window and saw a rather large cruise ship, which most likely was what hit the rig. It had no lights on at all, and could only see it because of the platform’s powerful spotlights.
“What the hell, is the ship adrift or something?” he thought out loud.
Another worker, one he didn’t know, opened the door to the outside walkway. Just as he did this, Jason saw several dozen people on the deck of the cruise ship come out of the shadows with assault rifles. Then it came to him…
“Jesus…GET DOWN!!!”
But it was too late for the five men already outside. As Jason dived away from the window, he could hear the distinctive crack of AK-47s while the five outside were brutally gunned down. Who? Why? Jason wondered this, but had no time to figure it out. He ran towards the security room, and unlocked the cabinet. As oil was a precious commodity these days, they were armed to the teeth. He grabbed an M4 carbine rifle and several spare magazines. Then he pulled his cell phone from his pocket and called his brother, Nathan.
“Hello?”
“Nathan! Thank god you’re still awake. We’re under attack here!! I don’t know what’s going on, man, they just shot five of our guys, and they’re still shooting. I don’t know how many of them there are!! Get a hold of somebody, call this in!!”
“You’re being attacked? How did they get there?”
“It’s a cruise ship!! They collided with the platform, and when we went to figure out what was going on they opened fire on us!!” (“Move forward, my dogs!” Could be heard in the background.)
“What’s that voice, Jason? Tell me more!”
“Sorry, I gotta go, I love you, brother.”
He shut his phone off, and loaded the M4. As the hostiles started getting to the level Jason was on, he returned fire. He had learned to shoot from his father when he was quite young, and was an excellent marksman. He took down one, two, three men that came around the corner in the hallway. Another half dozen came and he took them down too. He heard more from behind and turned around quick, not remembering exactly how many he shot. But he had emptied the magazine. As he was reloading, more came from behind again. Before he got off a shot, he was struck in the arm by a round. As the pain registered, he lost grip of the rifle. When he grabbed for it on the floor, he was hit several times in the stomach and chest.
The firing stopped. Jason was struggling for air, and he could feel his life fading fast. A few moments later, a tall man with spiked white hair walked down the hallway. As Jason took his last few gasps of air, the man removed a .357 Magnum revolved from a side holster, and discharged a single round into Jason’s head.
The mysterious man was Leepak Tupo. He had weeks prior carried out the shoot down and assassination of the Vice President. He had taken his pseudo-cult political group and hijacked five cruise ships. His surviving “soldiers” now gathered around him.
“What should we do now, my lord?”
“Kill anybody surviving. And prepare our new weapons. They won’t dare attack an oil platform, crude oil is more valuable than gold these days. The clean-up and the rebuilding of the platform would cost billions, not to mention the political repercussions. Now, go my dogs!”