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03-06-2015, 02:11 AM | #771 |
FEED ME MORE!
Join Date: Apr 2009
Location: Korugar, Space Sector 1417
Posts: 8,930
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Well this should be fun and I expect Mains to be out at least 2 weeks pay on that He-Man also War Gods is a MARS shell company
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I <3 LJ, Chari, Phoenix, Sweetness, and the Skittles Queen Lady D owner of page 9301 of GI Joe, Monkeytown RIP Dark Songstress, Gyre-Viper, samantha Queen Charijoe's #1 Fan/champion Rising_Phoenix2's lackey TofuNinja's genin Sole Owner of Tali's Lab Total Forum Game kills:18 |
03-07-2015, 02:33 AM | #772 |
Darth_Henning
Join Date: Jul 2008
Location: Canada
Posts: 21,174
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Reposting part 3. Noticed the original version was missing a section and some last minute copy-edits from the original post. Not sure why.
RE: Loose's question Some time between New York and Istanbul. Reason to be determined. 05/20/2034 - Istanbul - PART 3 ----------------------------------------------------------- Unmarked Van, near The Antik Hotel - Istanbul - 1658h 05/19/2034 Error leaned against his console, staring at the grainy image on his screen. He had yet to positively identify any known G.I. Boneheads going in or out of the hotel, but something else had caught his eye. A brief altercation on the front steps had caught his attention because of one man’s loud shirt. Something about him seemed familiar, the cut of the blonde hair. He couldn’t quite place it though, and the van’s cameras weren’t strong enough to give a better view at this distance across the plaza. He surfed forward through the footage looking to find where the man went, but he seemed to vanish almost like a- The van door banged open and Error jumped. “Ghost!” He said sitting bolt upright and saluted sharply as one of Cobra Commander’s most trusted Lieutenants stepped into the van. “Put that stupid hand down,” Ghost growled, slamming the door behind him. His black ball cap was pulled tightly over his face, hiding his features, and even in the oppressive heat outside, he was in the dark black shirt and pants of the Cobra Intelligence Corps. Even as he snapped his hand back onto the trackball, Error was not entirely clear if the Technology arm of Cobra fell under Ghost’s purview, but he wasn’t about to ask. When the Commander wanted someone dead, it was Ghost they were running from...for a couple of days anyway. “Do we have anything on the Joes?” Ghost asked, standing behind Error. Error tried to breath, “if I had my stuff back at-” “Yes will do,” Ghost cut him off, putting a hand on the back of his chair. “Well, I don’t have any positive IDs on G-men yet. However, 80 percent of the hotel’s new arrivals leave within two hours, so with a little more time, I can pin them down.” “Good. And what of the...other problem.” “That’s...more of a problem,” Error swallowed. The ongoing issue with the mole in Cobra was becoming chronic. Someone had tipped off the port authorities here in Istanbul and interrupted Cobra’s supply chain. Error had arrived and been thrown straight into the hunt under Ghost. Initially it had been to plug the leak, but when the Maggot had been uncovered, he’d been charged with scrubbing all the files from their operation while they cleaned out, that was going to take another few days though, and with the Joes’ untimely arrival, he might not have time. “Whoever it is leaking the information to the Joes, I can’t find any trace in our system. He’s a gho-” Error was smart enough to swallow what he was about to say, “phantom,” he corrected himself. “Find. Him.” Error felt to cold steel of a knife pressed to the side of his throat. “Or I’ll practice by filleting you. Understood?” “Yes sir!” Error answered as sharply as he could. “Good.” The knife withdrew, leaving a thin line of red behind curving up behind Error’s ear, and Ghost left the van with one final instruction before the door slammed. “Don’t even think of moving from here until you have the Joes.” After he’d caught his breath, Error looked back at his screen, and noticed a small countdown timer in the corner had reached zero. He chastized himself and checked the E-bay listing he’d been following. He swore to himself. A MISB Original He-Man had sold out from under him to a man who was becoming his personal nemesis, username ‘Main-to-the-Frame’. He hadn’t been able to find out anything about him yet, but Error swore that as soon as he was done here he’d destroy that man. ----------------------------------------------------------- Intelligence Room - The Rock - 0800h (local) 05/19/2034 “File transfer complete,” Mainframe confirmed, setting the decryption software to work on the files. “Know anything about where they came from?” “No,” Mayday replied on the other end of the link, shaking her head, “it was in a tin left on the bed. I thought it was just something from room service.” “What did the note say again?” “1) Information regarding Cobra armaments Istanbul. 2) Further operative details, attn: S6. It was signed with a C.” “I’ll see what I can pull off it and get back to you once I can. Who’s your Intel out there?” Mayday paused, “you know, I’m not even sure we have one. At least not on my team. If Ice Cream Soldier brought one, maybe on his team?” “I’ll check the duty roster,” Mainframe replied. “Really? There’s actually a guy going by Ice Cream Soldier?” “Don’t look at me, I just work here,” Mayday laughed, throwing her hands up in mock exasperation. “If we don’t have an intel, just send it through to me.” “Got it.” Mayday’s image dissolved to blackness, and Mainframe moved shifted the window over to another screen before tapping the orange button at the edge of his console to alert the command team that he had something important. “Wha’cha got ‘Frame?” yawned Shareware from the back of the room. “Intel packet from Istanbul. Running decryption now. Information on the weapons there and some future operations apparently.” “They can’t be operational status yet,” Surefire argued, “even with the time difference. Where’s the package from?” “Field asset apparently, with a C?” Mainframe asked, unfamiliar with the identifier. Mainframe watched as Surefire and Shareware conferred, the intelligence room was set up in a series of four concentric semi-circles of workstations around the rear podium where the two officers stood. At the curved wall opposite, data from any or all workstations could be displayed on a gigantic wall screen. Mainframe’s station was in the middle of the third row, giving him a good view of the screen overtop the bulky CRT monitors he custom-built for himself, but not giving him the best view of where the officers stood. Still, even at this angle there was obvious consternation. “Its not one of ours,” Surefire finally admitted loud enough for the rest of the room to hear. Over the night shift, there had only been a few Joes on duty, but Mainframe could hear the tell-tale rustling and squeaks as the others in the room turned to look. “Decrypt it. Don’t open it.” Surefire ordered, “I’m going to kick this up to Clancy and No-Show. Let them figure it out.” Shareware nodded his agreement, “keep an eye on that team though Mainframe.” “Yes sir.” The room returned to its usual quiet hum. A strange night, Mainframe reflected to himself, then tapped a couple keys in frustration. Why was his terminal trying to ping the Med Bay? He shook his head, must have hit the wrong key. Oh well, at least he’d won that auction he’d been stalking all week, and that 404 guy hadn’t even up-bid him. ----------------------------------------------------------- The Antik Hotel - Istanbul - 1705h 05/19/2034 Mayday finally entered the room. Most of the rest of the team was there she saw after a quick head count. Ice Cream Soldier and his fellow Poveglia survivors were unsurprisingly clustered close to the room’s only exit. The older man in a suit and the young woman she assumed were the two new members of their team since she’d worked with them in New York. Taurus was standing by the window basking in the sun their local man, Bazooka was munching on some kind of Sandwich after his trip from visiting family in Germany, Skidmark still managed to look windblown after driving from Spain in a single night, Widescope was asleep in the corner with his dog, Wreckage looked both sad and tanned from being summoned from his home in Italy. Thirteen, counting herself. The last Joe she had been informed would be late. Good. Just enough to make a full squad. She beckoned Ice over before addressing the rest of the team. “How do you want to play this?” Ice looked confused for a second. “Do you want to take point?” She asked, now that she no longer outranked him. “Oh geez! Sorry, I forgot, um, you’re senior here, well I mean older, I mean-” “Old but not dead,” she joked, breaking his awkward soliloquy, “and if you’re sticking me with the responsibilities you better keep me that way, or I promise I haunt you first.” Ice swallowed, “got it boss,” but still smiled as he headed back to his team. Mayday clapped her hands and began bringing the team up to speed. Most had received a basic briefing before arrival, but now was the chance to iron out the operational details so that everyone knew what they needed to. She ran quickly through the background, and then laid out their strategy: Get a look inside War Gods International, find any ties to a potential Cobra cell, and then stake out and take down the terrorists. Simple enough on the surface. There was just one problem, “command has asked that we try and get into War Gods without blowing a hole in the wall. Anyone have ideas?” “Oh where’s the fun in that?” grumbled Bazooka lightheartedly. “Did they specify anything about not blowing a hole in the roof?” he added twisting his lip and setting his moustache comically askew. “Pretty sure that’s a paddlin,” chuckled Mayday. “Floor?” “No blowing things up.” “Was macht ein Mann zu tun haben, etwas C4 nutzen in diesen Tagen?” muttered Bazooka. “English?” “Nothin.” “Serious suggestions anyone?” Mayday sighed. “I can do it.” Mayday turned to the corner. Schoolgirl quite literally had her hand up as if asking permission. “How?” asked Ice from his spot against the wall. “Give me two hours, a car and ….um, Widescope. I’ll come back with an ID badge for the warehouse.” “How do you propose we do that?” Widescope asked before Mayday could. Schoolgirl grinned, “you’re going to mug me.” “Excuse me?” “Trust me.” Mayday was pretty sure she could see where this idea was going based on Schoolgirl’s dossier. Might as well try it, was the best shot they had. “Go. Skidmark? You’re driving them. Make sure you’re all armed. Now as for the rest of you-” Further discussion was interrupted by a knock at the door. Mayday moved towards it, the other Joes instinctively shifting to defensive positions. The knock came again, the rhythm matching the correct signal for the team, and the tension in the room subsided. “That’ll be our last guy,” she paused to check her tablet again, “Robo-Joe apparently? Which means that Ice Cream may not have the worst name on the team anymore.” Ice blushed, but there were a few chuckles through the room. Mayday opened the door to greet the new Joe, but felt her jaw go slack. Standing in front of her was a nearly 7 foot monstrosity. Where she’d expected a face there was half a head, the other half encased in what she could best describe as an oversized terminator mask. Though clothes covered his body, she could tell that an arm and opposite leg had been replaced by some form of robotic parts. How anyone could survive that...let alone be smiling? She backed into the room slowly, letting the man shoulder his too-wide frame through the doorway. Suddenly the code name made more sense. “Hello Julia, Allen,” Robo-Joe nodded, his voice deep and mechanical, underset with a disconcerting metallic grumble. Firing Pin’s mouth fell open, and Takedown sat down on the bed, hard. “Oh. My. God.” Firing Pin finally whispered. “Greg...you’re alive?” She ran a hand over the metal skull that encased half his face, “what...what happened to you?” ----------------------------------------------------------- ----------------------------------------------------------- |
03-07-2015, 03:28 AM | #773 |
Darth_Henning
Join Date: Jul 2008
Location: Canada
Posts: 21,174
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And to answer Firing Pin's question...
(I'm not really happy with this one, but I've been trying to tweek it for two years. I don't think I ever will be so might as well stop trying). 05/10/2034 - Robo-Joe Medical Center - Operating Suites - The Rock “Do I even want to know what this is costing?” “You’re not the one paying for it Joe,” Lifeline answered General Colton as he tossed him a foil package from above the sinks. “I meant in terms of man hours that we could be using for other projects,” came the growled response. “As far as I know, Doc has the medical ward well in hand, and unless you’re not telling me something, Cobra’s gone to ground. Were you wanting to send more Joes to the infirmary? I can always spike whatever Roadblock’s putting in tonight’s meal.” “Don’t be a smart ass.” “Then you hired the wrong guy. Open the little baggy, and follow the instructions,” Lifeline pointed to a small laminated poster above the sink. Colton tried, but couldn’t repress a deep sigh. He immediately regretted it, having eaten the garlic bread his wife sent for lunch. The baby blue face mask may have looked like a flimsy construct, but Lifeline had assured him that it was designed to prevent any germs from passing either way, and apparently that applied to bad breath as well. He’d made the decision to come down and see how things were going after almost the entire medical team had isolated itself downstairs for the better part of two weeks. That had been just after lunch, almost two hours ago. Greg Sconz had suffered unimaginable injuries on Poveglia. Assaulted by what the team described with a vampire with swords on its arms, then caught in an unfortunate misfire from a flamethrower, he was missing most of an arm, several important organs, and the majority of his skin. Not to speak of myriad other internal injuries. By rights, he shouldn’t have survived. But somehow, by sheer force of will, he had clung to life, even as the casualties from New York were cleared by the medical staff. And as things with Cobra had quietened down, the decision had been made to try and save him. And so had begun what Colton suspected was the most massive medical investment in a single individual in history. Half of the operating suite in The Rock had been cordoned off and sterilized under the supervision of Airtight and Clean Sweep. Just to get through the outer cordon this afternoon, Colton had been subjected to a full half hour decontamination shower, using some pink soap that he couldn’t pronounce, and then having to do it all over again when Clean Sweep’s swabs from very personal areas hadn’t met the required standard of clean-ness. Then it had been into a set of blue scrubs and through an improvised airlock into the hallway. There, Lifeline had drilled him on sterile technique which essentially wound up being a long-winded explanation of ‘don’t touch ANYTHING’. Colton for his part was quite alright with that; his job was to take things apart, not put them back together. He stared at the poster as he discarded the foil wrapper and began laboriously scrubbing from his fingertips to his elbows yet again with the enclosed brush. “If my wife ever caught me doing this, she’d expect me to be this clean all the time,” he muttered to himself. “As opposed to the usual blood, gore and battlefield dirt?” “You’re one to talk about blood surgeon boy.” Lifeline shrugged, “got me on that one.” Colton ran the water over his arms to get the last of the soap residue off, and somehow his arms still felt sticky. He followed Lifeline as they backed through the door into the operating theater. Five minutes later he was gowned in a massive head fan, essentially a space helmet, green gown that wrapped his body like a dress and three layers of laytex gloves. How precisely he was supposed to breathe in this hadn’t been mentioned, but the weight of it did at least offset the frigid temperature of the room somewhat. “All right,” Colton grumbled, “explain what exactly you’ve been up to down here.” “Medical version? Or would you like me to translate into Uncultured Swine?” Coton did his best to convey a dark glare. “Uncultured swine it is!” Lifeline replied, and Colton could almost hear the smirk in his voice. “His bout with….whatever that was on Poveglia, severed the nerves controlling his right arm, and damaged the blood supply. Essentially it would have rotted away so we had to amputate it. We replaced it with an advanced robotic prosthetic that Gears and Dropforge put together from our specifications.” Lifeline coughed and continued, “Over 70% of his skin was burned when he was caught with the flamethrower, so Scrubs grafted what he could, and contacted donor banks for the rest. Obviously, with the amount of prosthetics and others that we required, its much less surface area than he had originally. His face will sadly never be the same.” “Unfortunately, with the flamethrower exposure, he fell onto something, and sustained a significant head and spinal trauma. Trauma and I had to do significant work to essentially rebuild his entire spinal column, but we couldn’t save the left leg no matter how hard we tried.” “Prosthetic for that as well?” Colton asked as Lifeline paused. “After a fashion yes. Bloodsport and Discharge did their best with the internal injuries to fix his digestive and circulatory system, but he’s got a lot of artificial systems in there, a new heart and lung, and is testing out an artificial kidney to keep him alive since his real ones couldn’t hold up under the strain of the system anymore.” “Is all this stuff toxic or something?” “No, but the blood pressure is way higher in the system, and he is going to have a very different ion balance than the body is used to working with. He’s not digesting the same way either, so there’s a lot of stuff we have to account for.” “Lovely,” Colton sighed, having followed only some of this. “The most finicky part was the last. He suffered a lot of brain damage when he hit his head, and when he wasn’t getting enough oxygen through his burnt lungs. How he’ll function is at best a guess. Add into that the number of microchips that we’ve had to try and tie into his brain, which is a crapshoot under ideal conditions, and I have no idea whether or not this will all work.” Colton didn’t find that at all encouraging, but listened as Lifeline attempted to explain some of the finer points while pointing to various images on a small display screen in one wall. The more they talked, they more Colton found himself expecting all this to be a waste of time. But eventually, the time came for them to finally address the patient himself. “Fracture?” Lifeline asked. The draped head turned, and through the plastic front Colton could see a pair of bleary eyes half propped open above the man’s mask. “Almost done,” came the reply. Colton reached up to the side of his head and pressed the button to turn the fan down even more. Darn these things made it hard to hear. “We tried testing his strength between operations. The arms held up well, as did his replacement leg, but the left femur gave out under the suit’s weight. We’re replating it now, it should hold once we have him sewn up.” Colton didn’t have trouble hearing Lifeline’s groan, “what fracture this time? Can the bone even hold any more plates?” “Closed, undisplaced, unangulated, spiral fracture of the proximal diaphasis. The long shaft hemi-arthroplasty and bone cement kept it from moving when the leg gave out. I’m going to try and K-wire around the hemi, and brace the plates mid-shaft.” Colton was sure that this meant something to the men around the table, but it escaped him. He turned to look at the screens on one wall. Life Line, the other one, the one that played with radiation looked up. Colton waved him off, he knew better than to change what was on the screen if it was saving the man’s life. What he suspected was a series of X-rays was displayed there. He was pretty sure he could identify the ribs, and that… was pretty much it. The rest was a hodge podge of bones, wires, metal plates, and… well Colton didn’t really know what. At least half the man’s body looked more like a robot than a man. “How much longer do you need?” Lifeline continued. “I’m just putting in the screws, so about ten for that and a half hour to close?” “Got it. Any other surprises?” Lifeline turned where Shut-eye, the team’s anesthesiologist was sitting in front of a trio of computer screens, surrounded by beeping monitors hoses, cables, and a variety of things that Colton had no name for. Half of the lines snaked across the open floor under several lines of tape and up onto the bed, inserted, plugged, or attached to poor Sconz in one way or another. Although he had never been bothered by the sites of dead bodies, let alone any of the mangled ones that he’d seen in Iran during the last war, Colton still couldn’t suppress a shudder. Though what little of Sconz’s body remained was partially draped in clear sheets, they left little to the imagination when it came to the recently closed wounds and integrated metal. He was glad he didn’t follow whatever Shut Eye’s response was. His right arm and left leg had been completely replaced by robotic parts, and half his face looked like something out of a science fiction movie. The parts of hi that were still human looked little better, with pockmarked skin, laced with a roadmap of scars. Here and there wires and tubes of unclear purpose entered and exited. If it wasn’t for the discomfort in the back of his throat, Colton would have been sure he was dreaming. Unfortunately, for now there was nothing to do but watch. Lifeline gestured to a pair of uncomfortable looking stools in the corner, and they proceeded to wait. Over the next hour, Colton allowed himself to nod off, after confirming three times that if he leaned against the wall he wouldn’t have to go through that god-awful cleaning routine again. He was awoken by someone lightly kicking his foot. He looked up, unable to tell who he was looking at other than the wisps of blonde hair behind the faceplate giving away that it was a woman. “They’re going to wake him up now, if you want to see that,” a lilting voice told Colton. “Uh. Yeah. Thank you...um…” “Patty,” came the reply, “or Pre-op. Whichever is easier.” “Thanks.” Colton stood as the nurse walked away, he vaguely recognized the code name, but had made a point of trying to meet as few of the medical personnel as possible until the inevitable, unfortunate day that he himself had to go under the knife for one battle injury or another. He approached what he assumed to be Lifeline, based off the tall slim build. “Are you sure its a good idea to wake him up?” “I don’t think we have a choice. We can’t keep him anesthetized forever. And if he’s a vegetable after this, then he will have to be transferred to another care facility.” Lifeline sighed, “but if, and its a big IF, this has worked, we may have just saved a man who’s going to become one of our deadliest soldiers.” “How big of an IF?” Colton had to ask. “80 percent helpless invalid, 20 percent soldier,” Lifeline answered. “That’s rather low for all the time you put into it.” “I know,” Lifeline answered, “but both times he was awake enough, he said to do anything that would save him and let him get back in the field.” “Still extreme.” “It is,” Lifeline agreed, “but he has no family after the war, and with all the injuries there, there have been a lot of theoretical ideas that medicine’s been wanting to try for robotic prosthetics that just have never had a human test subject. So, we each picked what would be the best option to try and gave it to him. If it works, we’ll advance medical science by a decade. If not, at least we can learn what doesn’t work.” “And if it doesn’t work, what happens to him?” “The worst hell I can imagine. A fully functioning mind, and an irreparably broken body,” Lifeline’s shudder was noticeable even beneath the isolation gear. “Pray that doesn’t happen.” “I stopped believing in a god about the time I saw my second battlefield.” “Either God exists or he doesn’t. If he doesn’t , he can’t care what you believe. If he does, its probably safer to believe than not.” “Remarkably philosophical.” “Hardly. Its Pascal’s Wager.” “Who’s what?” Lifeline didn’t reply, but Colton was fairly certain he could picture the withering stare of disappointment on his face. Yeah, well some of us grew up on a battlefield, not a lecture hall, he thought to himself. “Vitals are normal,” reported Shut Eye, “I’m extubating now.” “Proceed,” Lifeline confirmed. Colton had to repress his own gag reflex as the tube snaked out of the unconscious man’s throat. Shut-eye suctioned out God-knew-what from his mouth as Sconz coughed and gagged. As they waited, various monitors confirmed that vitals were normal, and slowly varios of the computerized systems came online. “Well,” Lifeline finally announced to no one in particular, “if his brain can tolerate it, we’ve done it. Its all up to him now. Agonizing minutes passed before the patient on the table finally shifted. A low groan escaped Sconz’s mouth. “Greg,” Shut Eye leaned over, “Greg you’re just waking up from surgery. We….we did what we could to heal your wounds. But…” He seemed uncertain how to explain. Sconz lifted an arm off the bed to rub his face, his mechanical one, then paused looking at it. “Oh… I… feel… different…. I’m…” the halting voice was half mechanical rumble, half inhumanly animal base. He sounded surprised “I’m… Robocop….” Colton flinched. Was it really right to have saved a man if this was what the rest of his life would be like? He opened his mouth, but didn’t have a chance to answer. A smile split the human lips, and the mechanical side of Sconz’s face opened in something close to a mirror image. The vision being the scariest simulacrum of life that Colton could have imagined. “No!” The voice was stronger now, and the red orb where his eye should have been seemed to glow brighter, “I… am… Robo JOE.” Code Name: Robo-Joe File Name: Greg Sconz Birthplace: Casper, Wyoming Rank: E5 Primary Military Specialty: CLASSIFIED Secondary Military Specialty: CLASSIFIED --------------------------------------- |
03-07-2015, 09:39 AM | #774 |
W.O.R.M.S. Commander
Join Date: Nov 2007
Location: Back in the US of A! (NoVA)
Posts: 10,649
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like Colton I didn't even understand half the dialog but it all adds up to the final awakening. The fact he actually wants to become Robo-Joe makes it all work. Now to see him in action although I am sort of wondering how he was able to get around Istanbul without drawing attention to the team. Chuckles?
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Improvise, Adapt, and Overcome. |
03-07-2015, 05:00 PM | #775 |
Darth_Henning
Join Date: Jul 2008
Location: Canada
Posts: 21,174
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I tried to include some medical jargon, but enough of a normal explanation to get the point across. IDK. Hope it balanced enough. I'm obviously not exactly objective on that.
That will pose an...interesting conundrum won't it? Chuckles may or may not have any further part in the story. |
04-09-2015, 02:00 AM | #776 |
Hold My Drink.
Join Date: Mar 2011
Location: Texas
Posts: 739
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Your stories are awesome. There is so much to read. I will continue though :)
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Back to customizing... |
06-10-2015, 06:25 PM | #777 |
Darth_Henning
Join Date: Jul 2008
Location: Canada
Posts: 21,174
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05/20/2034 - Istanbul PART 4
Levent Business District - Istanbul - 1735h 05/19/2034 Schoolgirl leaned against the hood of the fanciest car she could find on the block, watching through the corner of her eye as Skidmark and Widescope took up their positions down the block. The last stragglers were leaving as their work day came to a close. A few glanced over as they left, a couple whistled. She sighed, come one, just one of you be enough of a horn-dog to come over here and hit on me, she mentally chastised the men, while keeping a flirtatious smile on her face. The door opened once more and a trio of guys came out. One of them caught sight of her first, and from the looks and conversation, he and his buddies were checking her out. Perfect. She leaned back and stretched, arching her back as far as she could, and holding the pose a few seconds longer than she really needed to. By the time she straightened, one of them was heading towards her, with the exact silly horndog grin she had expected. Well, at least there were a few things that were predictable wherever you went. Sliding off the hood of the car, she tossed her hair a little, winked, and started to saunter down the street. He followed, slowly closing on her. She slowed a little so she’d pass the alley just before he caught up with her... … Across the way Skidmark propped his feet up on the other chair at the table. Schoolgirl had placed herself on the hood of a Lamborghini that Skidmark assumed must belong to one of the upper management. Damn she looked hot, with that coloration and those curves, he wouldn’t mind being inside her. Of course, Schoolgirl would look pretty good riding shotgun next to him too. The place actually made decent espresso. Surprising since most places around here seemed to replace it with dirty motor oil. Not that he particularly minded that either, but everything had its place. It took only a few minutes for one of the workers to spot her and head in her direction. Show time. He watched as the man followed her, approaching the alley where Widescope was loitering looking like he was half asleep against the wall. Of course, there was a decent possibility he was, Skidmark reminded himself, dropping a few Euros on the table as he saw the waitress approaching…. ...Widescope watched through half-lidded eyes a the first of a pair of red heels passed the entrance to the alley-way. A quick flick of the wrist, and his hand locked around Schoolgirl’s elbow yanking her into the alley as his other hand brought out a small combat knife from his sleeve. She used his arm to brace herself as she leaned backwards in terror. “Don’t hurt me!” She begged in a high pitched squeal as the man following her rounded the corner. “Bene para vermek” snarled Widescope, hoping he had the Turkish ‘give me your money’ right. Based on the confused look on the man’s face, apparently not. Oh well. Widescope released Schoolgirl, who convincingly stumbled back a few paces while he grabbed the man’s shirt collar. His eyes locked on the knife, and his hands shot in the air, “Beni incitme! Sana her şeyi vereceğim!” Yeah, like I speak Turkish. Where’s Taurus when you need him? Something flashed in front of the man’s face, and his pleading was cut off abruptly. It took Widescope a second to recognize the sound of gagging, and then to identify the small black cord taught across the man’s throat with Schoolgirl digging her elbows hard into the man’s back. Only a few seconds later, the man slumped into unconsciousness. “Umm….I’m pretty sure that’s not standard operating procedure” “Well, pretty is what works,” Schoolgirl shrugged, checking the man’s pulse, then seeming satisfied as the man was still gasping. “Help me find his wallet.” Widescope shook his head, “you are far too cynical for your age.” “I spent two years undercover in the IRA. You learn all sorts of nasty sh- Gotcha!” Schoolgirl held up the man’s access card with a look of triumph on her face as a white van began backing into the alley... … Skidmark glanced over his shoulder out the window to where the other two were rifling to body making it look like a more convincing mugging. “Whenever you kids are ready, the Cops are about 2 blocks away.” ----------------------------------------------------------- Unmarked Van, near The Antik Hotel - Istanbul - 1823h 05/19/2034 Error smiled as he watched the two men escorting the woman back up the hotel stairs. They looked in their dress and casual attitude like a trio of tourists going about town, but a close observation showed that each was carefully looking in different directions. Not obviously, mind you, but enough that no one could have a reasonable chance of following or sneaking up on them. Then there was the woman’s bearing. She was slim and attractive in the traditional Western sense he supposed, but her frame was far too tight. Most Westerners moved with a languidity born of sloth, or in those of more refinement a precise yet awkward grace. Only someone with formal training moved with such precision and economy. It was a trait his culture more highly prized, but was rarely seen outside the military anywhere else. The men were different. They lacked that military air about their movements, more relaxed and Western, but still decidedly guarded. Of course, the analysis was purely recreational. Facial recognition software in the van had matched the three of them during their visit to the area outside Cobra’s operations in Levent. He did have to grudgingly admire their approach to gaining access to the operation. It would be a simple matter to deactivate the card they had taken, and no doubt that would be what Ghost ordered whenever he returned. Yet even if it remained active, it would do them little good. Glitch was in the process of picking over the remains of the information in the warehouse and removing everything useful. What weapons had been left were now being secreted out of the city by a squad Eels to where Sea Bastion and his Cobra CRAB waited off the harbour to take them wherever the Commander needed them. As the trio moved inside the hotel, Error toggled the cameras, switching to those hidden throughout the lobby, then the elevator, then the third floor hallway, before watching them disappear into their separate rooms. A quick check of the hotel schematic showed that all were adjoining, and belonged to the same group booking that he’d pegged as coming through a standard American Government travel agent. He doubted that any of the names were real. A cursory check had of course shown basic photo ID, bank accounts and the right amount of internet noise to fool the average immigration office. But a deeper check of their backgrounds had instead revealed a complete lack of any presence on social media, no high school or previous employment records, and an unusual lack of any existing relatives. Unless this was a convention of test-tube babies isolated since birth, these were the Joes. Time to prime the spring, Error smiled to himself reaching for the phone. ----------------------------------------------------------- Levent Business District - 0313h 05/20/2034 Schoolgirl stretched her back and cranked her head to either side to relieve the built-up tension. She’d been laying prone on the concrete rooftop for the last two hours, her eyes glued to a night-vision scope trained across the street and her breasts scrunched against the concrete ledge. It was her fourteenth mission, and so far the one with the most inconvenient location. Idly she wondered if the Joes provided massage coverage with their health plan. She’d always wanted to go to Istanbul since she was a kid. Her imagination had been filled with thoughts of the beach, sailing the Dardanelles, and touring the old city, preferably with a cute Turkish boy...or two. Laying on the roof a half-built warehouse, watching the back door of a dilapidated skyscraper scheduled for demolition, with a dozen fellow soldiers probably staring at her ass was not how she’d envisioned her romantic trip. Well, she’d gotten the trip, all expenses paid in fact. Now she just needed the someone special. One day, she told herself, and sighed. “Anything?” Mayday asked, interpreting her sigh as a sign of something. “Nothing.”Schoolgirl rolled over and arched her back, no longer caring if the rest of the team was looking, “Are we sure this is the right address?” A grunt came from the other direction, “ve’re sure.” This from Taurus. Schoolgirl glanced in his direction, and observed him slowly fingering the edge of his sword with his thumb, sharpening stone clutched between his other fingers. He spent more time polishing that sword than most people did sleeping. It fell strongly on the “creepy” side of things. She sighed, turning back to her scope. She sensed more than heard someone kneel down beside her. The slight scent of tooled leather filled her nostrils, doubtless Spirit’s boots, she reminded herself to ask him where he bought them after the mission was over. “No one around?” he asked quietly. “Just the same dude sitting in his same car in the same spot across the way. Same as the last three hours.” “What’s he doing?” “Um… drumming his fingers to whatever he’s listening to. Why?” “May I?” Spirit asked. She passed the monocle to him. Silence followed for a few seconds and he started tapping his fingers. “That’s not a beat. That’s morse code.” Schoolgirl rolled on her side, but didn’t have time to curse herself for missing it before he dropped the next bombshell. “We’re blown! Incoming!” Schoolgirl was only half way to her feet when the door to the stairs was blown from its hinges with a shaped charge. She teetered on her feet for a half a second, but held her footing unslinging a Calico carbine from under her arm. The weapon was an antique by modern standards, but it just, worked, so, darn, well! Four bursts from her weapon had caught two Cobra Vipers and laid them out unfortunately blocking the stairway door open. The Joes closer to the stairs had been knocked down by the blast, but Takedown was living up to his code name, firing single shots from a crouched position on the opposite side of the door. Those vipers first through the door had been brave, and had paid for it. Those behind them were smarter, using the stairwell and bodies of their fallen comrades for cover, cutting down the angle from which they were vulnerable, but leaving the Joes exposed. Schoolgirl crouched down behind a vent just in time as a volley of fire cracked across its metal surface. Spirit wasn’t quite as fast, and he grunted in pain as two spots of red blossomed against his blue shirt. He said something in his native language that sounded decidedly unpleasant. Schoolgirl popped up firing off another short burst at the door, at least making heads duck. Wreckage was down, but Widescope’s dog seemed to be dragging him behind another vent while his master covered the pair of them. The remaining Joes were all either behind cover, or moving around the roof out of the firing line. It was only as a second shaped charge sounded to her left that Schoogirl remembered the two other stairwells on either side of the building. She turned in time to get off one final burst before the Calico clicked onto empty. Blast. Ducking down, she still registered a dozen or so vipers emerging from the stairs along with two guys in silver body suits and plates of purple armor. Well that was new. But of course, she smiled, pulling a pair of still factory fresh Sphinx 4000 pistols, so are these. The first spray from the pistols took down one Viper at least, and caused the other’s to dodge, but not the dudes in the silver suits. Both turned in her direction, and she registered the eruption of flame from their rifles just in time to duck back under cover. Not going to need to tan on the beach after all. “Fall back! Delta formation!” Mayday called somewhere off to the right. “Sure, when they stop melting our cover,” grumbled Spirit as he pulled a bandage tight around his bicep with his teeth. Schoolgirl glanced over at him, “excuse me,”yanking a silver canister off his chest harness, pulling the pin, and tossing it over her shoulder, and hopefully above the flames. A three count later, she and Spirit exchanged a glance, “run”. The initial blast wasn’t nearly as loud as those that had blown the doors off their hinges, but the shrieking sound of shrapnel as it tore into the fuel tanks and their subsequent explosions was louder. The heat from the explosion blew Schoolgirl’s loose strands of hair across her cheeks, the tips slightly smouldering. “I’m going to have split ends for weeks,” she grumbled in annoyance as she ducked back around the first stairwell beside Ice Cream Soldier. “If only that was our biggest problem,” he shot back, sounding annoyed as he fired down the stairs. At least they had one entrance under control, but even through the smoke and flames across the roof, she could see more Cobra Vipers emerging from the stairs. Shots peppered their position and some fell, but even as she ejected her spent magazines, she could tell they were badly outnumbered. Then the third stairwell door banged open. ----------------------------------------------------------- ----------------------------------------------------------- |
06-10-2015, 09:02 PM | #778 |
FEED ME MORE!
Join Date: Apr 2009
Location: Korugar, Space Sector 1417
Posts: 8,930
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Has the cavalry arrived?
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I <3 LJ, Chari, Phoenix, Sweetness, and the Skittles Queen Lady D owner of page 9301 of GI Joe, Monkeytown RIP Dark Songstress, Gyre-Viper, samantha Queen Charijoe's #1 Fan/champion Rising_Phoenix2's lackey TofuNinja's genin Sole Owner of Tali's Lab Total Forum Game kills:18 |
06-11-2015, 10:57 AM | #779 |
W.O.R.M.S. Commander
Join Date: Nov 2007
Location: Back in the US of A! (NoVA)
Posts: 10,649
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More Vipers. I forgot Error was a Cobra.
Love it! Keep it rolling Lifeline. Am I just imagining it or did you write part of this last rooftop sequence before?
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06-13-2015, 02:16 AM | #780 |
Darth_Henning
Join Date: Jul 2008
Location: Canada
Posts: 21,174
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bump to new page.
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