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05-30-2012, 10:32 PM | #651 |
Darth_Henning
Join Date: Jul 2008
Location: Canada
Posts: 21,174
|
Final chapter. Hopefully one everyone will enjoy.
09/26/2034 - Defection Chapter 8 G.I. Joe VAMP - Edmonton, Alberta (+20:00h) Mercer slithered through the back frame into the flatbed at the back of the Vamp as Clutch threw them around a corner on two wheels. He got a none-too-gentle shove from Rock and Roll through the last couple feet sending him sprawling into the cavernous back end. This was the larger model of VAMP, possessing a full rear seat and trunk bed with armored plating for troop transport. Already there had been a couple sprays of bullets across the rear plating. Rock and Roll and Roadblock were leaning out the side doors attaching the modular plating to latches beside the door frames as they drove. If he’d had more time, he would have questioned why this wasn’t done before they were being chased, but that wasn’t exactly a priority at this exact moment. Rather it was trying to feed a belt of hollow-point ammunition into the mounted chaingun. Of course, it caught the first three times he tried, before finally catching on the internal spool and feeding up to the firing mechanism. Part one down. ----------------------------------------------------------- Cobra Steel Crusher - Edmonton, Alberta (+20:01h) Lau grimaced with annoyance as their quarry swung around another tight downtown corridor. Traffic was lightening up with the morning traffic rush having ended, but it was still heavy enough that passing vehicles frequently got in the way of her fire. She didn’t particularly care if there were casualties, but every minute they were out in the open in this pursuit, the Joes had more time to get reinforcements either of their own, or from local police and military. To that end she wondered if she could get some aid of her own. Already she’d split off one of her Steel Crushers to attempt to get ahead of the Joes and cut them off, but the televiper had now opened a channel to the man in charge of the recover operation and was exchanging updates in rapid-fire. “He’s insisting to talk to you madam.” “I’m busy at the moment.” “Would you like me to tell him that madam?” “No, I bloody well wouldn’t!” Lau snapped, knowing that such a report would leave her neck in the noose, probably literally, even if this mission was a success. Backstabbing and self-promotion was encouraged within Cobra, as long as it was on your own time. When you were in combat, the hierarchy was to be strictly followed. On pain of death. She took one hand from the targeting controls and reached backwards to allow the Televiper to place it in her hand. “Captain Lau sir,” she snapped off sharply, biting back a curse as her shots went wild again. Each time she missed, they added to the seemingly endless supply of armor plating that coated the vehicle, reducing the weak-spots that she had to aim at dramatically. “I do hope that I’m not interrupting Captain Lau. From what I heard, it seemed like you were in the middle of something.” The voice on the other end of the line positively dripped with sarcasm. Damned Televiper must have left the line open to allow her to embarrass herself. Possibly in the hopes of gaining himself a promotion. No matter. She would make sure that he didn’t survive this mission. “No sir!” was her only response. “Just ensuring that Cobra is victorious.” “Of course you are. Why do you need me?” “My forces have been severely reduced. I need support to ensure a quick kill so that we can disappear.” There was a second of silence on the other end. “Whatever forces you have lost today are due to your own mismanagement or unpreparadness. You will complete the mission with whatever forces remain to you.” “I do not know if that is possible,” Lau said, hedging for support. “Then your family will at least have the honour of knowing that you died trying to complete your mission won’t they?” The meaning was clear. “Yes sir. I will report upon the mission’s completion.” “See that you do.” As usual, there was no indication that that was the end of the conversation, except to have the line go dead. Lau threw the handset at the Televiper, hearing a satisfying crack as it hit him somewhere on his armor. The Fast Blast Viper leaning out the right window let out a brief whoop of celebration as his shots finally managed to slip through the window slit on the back of the vehicle causing the defenders to duck. He’d be in line for a promotion to replace those who had been killed earlier in the day. ----------------------------------------------------------- G.I. Joe VAMP - Edmonton, Alberta (+20:02h) Bullets sprayed through the small window slit causing Rock’ and ‘Block to duck back down, cutting off their return fire. “You almost ready back there?” Clutch hollered. “Thirty seconds!” Mercer replied, his voice almost drowned by the sounds of enemy gunfire striking the armor plate. He had to prepare a few more tricks before he could pop the roof off the rear cargo bay so he could fire them off at the same time without having to look. A set of caltrops, balls with 4 sharp spikes sticking out at equal angles, ensuring that three would always be resting on the ground with the other sticking straight up. Originally used against cavalry hundreds of years ago, they were equally effective against the tires of speeding automobiles, and had a much more dramatic effect when they did their work. The bay was too small to accommodate full-sized stinger missiles without roasting most of the vehicle’s occupants to pieces with their exhaust, but someone had designed smaller versions that could be launched from pneumatic tubes on either side of the weapons bay. The range was short, but against pursuing vehicles they were exceedingly effective. Lastly was a pair of flechette tubes that would rip the motor of a pursuing vehicle apart if it was too close behind. The organization of this Vamp was slightly different than similar ones he had ridden in before, but Mercer put that down to customization by Clutch to one of his babies, and decided to ignore it. ----------------------------------------------------------- Cobra Steel Crusher - Edmonton, Alberta (+20:03h) Lau flinched as a Ford Taurus bounced off the leading edge of the Steel Crusher’s now extended plow, throwing it up over her window. The Moto-Viper had been forced to lower the protective shielding over the windows, significantly cutting her ability to see out and target properly. Still, even reduced, it was difficult to miss a military green armored jeep speeding through the streets dodging among the mostly silver cars of the downtown. More of their shots were connecting, but they seemed to be doing quite minimal damage to their quarry. Still, at least a half-dozen shots had passed through the small slits in the vehicle, and she hoped that sooner or later at least one of the ricochets would do damage to the occupants. A slim hope, but one that would instantly turn the tide,especially if it happened to be the driver. The Televiper took a brief lull as the enemy cornered out of site to speak up, “Steel Crusher Three reports that they are approaching the bridge and will be in a position to cut off their flight if we can force them that way.” “Perfect!” Lau gloated, a smile coming to her face for the first time that morning. “Inform the crew of Steel Crusher Two to get onto their left flank. We want to force them towards that bridge.” Lau was not from Edmonton, but she had determined one thing from the maps she had studied the night before. The massive river valley that split the city was only crossed in a half-dozen places by bridges. The central downtown sloped into the valley and connected to a series of three bridges, but this far to the west, the only way across was something known as the High Level Bridge. It was a box bridge suspended over two-hundred feed above the valley floor. A single mistake would send their enemies plummeting to their doom. The perfect place for a trap. ----------------------------------------------------------- G.I. Joe VAMP - Edmonton, Alberta (+20:04h) Mercer flipped the safeties off the chain gun before unlatching the metal plate on the roof at all but one connection point. It was heavy enough that it bounced only minimally with the swaying of the vehicle. “Ready back here!” he yelled forward, “anything I should be watching for?” “Rollbar says he and his team have taken out both of the bikers that were on our tail,” Clutch reported, “but there’s still that missing SUV that we haven’t found.” Mercer rolled his eyes. Scout Vipers were hardly a danger to an armored vehicle and could have been picked off at any time. A Steel Crusher on the other hand would be significantly more dangerous if it came at them from an unexpected angle, Mercer made a mental note to tell them what it was called. He would have thought Clutch would know that as a motor pool guy, but he was learning with every passing month, that information travelled slowly through a government-run buearucracy, even one as independent as the Joes. “Let them get close!” he yelled, an idea suddenly comming to him, “then floor it!” “Are you crazy?” “Yes. Just do it.” Mercer didn’t make out what Clutch said in response as a small explosion bucked the back of the VAMP into the air, but the screaching of brake pads suggested that it had been an affirmative. One eye through the slot behind him, Mercer watched the Steel Crushers close on the VAMP. He grinned. As Clutch floored it, one of the two vehicles followed suit, and he pulled the last latch on the roof panel. As he’d expected it slid off the top, the trailing edge slamming hard into the armor plating over the windshield of the Steel Crusher. Momentum was a bitch. Bullets broke apart on armor plating because despite their speed they were really small. By contrast, the armored plate that had just slammed into the vehicle would be moving at a relative 100 kilometers per hour, and massed a good several dozen pounds. Even if the armor didn’t give away, the light frame behind it did, allowing the plate to slice cleanly into the passenger compartment. Bingo. ----------------------------------------------------------- Cobra Steel Crusher - Edmonton, Alberta (+20:05h) As the Moto-Viper swung the Steel Crusher wide to avoid the careening wreck that was left of the other half of their pursuit team, Lau found herself getting closely acquainted with the plate glass to her right. She cursed under her breath. even with both vehicles they had barely been able to keep them pinned down and moving towards the bridge. Now with half their firepower, it was going to be hard to push them in the right direction. The bridge was coming up, but if they saw her remaining Steel Crusher blocking the way, they were likely to pull off and if they did that- Her thoughts were interrupted as the head of a man popped up from the back of the vehicle they were pursuing. Or rather would have if he wasn’t hidden behind the blast shields of a chain gun mounted in the rear cargo bay. Instinctively both Lau and the Moto-Viper ducked as the first volley of return shots impacted on the windshield. Even with the armor plating the glass began to crack from the onslaught. The Moto-Viper began to twitch the wheel randomly in order to evade the fire, but Lau was smiling. The bridge was only a block away, and they finally had support. ----------------------------------------------------------- G.I. Joe VAMP - Edmonton, Alberta (+20:06h) Mercer had to duck his head as fire came from the other direction, glancing off the armored placing beside him. He made a mental note to ask some of the boys down in the armory for some of whatever this vehicle was coated in. The bullets didn’t even seem to be making a dent in the plate armor. It reminded him of something he had seen when he’d worked with Cobra during the war, but he didn’t believe it could possibly be related. Barely had he hit the deck of the bed when Clutch threw the VAMP into a tail-sliding spin. Mercer wondered for a half moment what he was thinking before he heard someone up front yelling for him to fire. He would have obliged, but was pressed to the floor by the spin, but somehow the flechette tubes discharged anyway, the spin reversed and he was thrown across the bay to the other side. He didn’t think he had been resting on the foot pedals that would have released the spray, but he wasn’t going to complain about the effect. From a small viewing slit he could make out what had once been the enemy vehicle that had blocked them from crossing the bridge tipped on its side, rocking as it was about to fall off the edge of the road and down into the valley, gushing smoke and flame from a shredded engine compartment. Well that works, he thought to himself, hauling himself to his feet as the VAMP’s course straightened out. The chain gun swung around suddenly knocking him back to a sitting position, and the curse just leaving his lips died as he saw the roof of the bridge they were taking shoot past the top of the opening. Had he been standing to full height, it would have taken his head off the second they passed under. Thanking whatever dumb luck had caused the gun to swing around at that point, Mercer got to his knees, gripped the handlebars of the chaingun and began to return fire against their lone remaining pursuer. ----------------------------------------------------------- Cobra Steel Crusher - Edmonton, Alberta (+20:07h) Lau cursed as she saw the second Steel Crusher go over the side of the road and drop down into the valley. That left the only five surviving members of her team inside this lone Steel Crusher. A depressing testament to the trap they had walked into. Obviously somehow the Joes had known that her teamw ould be coming to recapture or kill the defector, and had been prepared for exactly how an operation like that would be executed. She didn’t have time to worry about how right now, but she knew that she’d rather die trying to complete her objective, than suffer whatever punishment she would receive if she failed. “Ram them.” “But that-” the Moto-Viper started to protest. “RAM them.” “Yes madam.” -----------------------------------------------------------
__________________
Last edited by Lifeline_MD; 05-30-2012 at 10:40 PM.. |
05-30-2012, 10:33 PM | #652 |
Darth_Henning
Join Date: Jul 2008
Location: Canada
Posts: 21,174
|
G.I. Joe VAMP - Edmonton, Alberta (+20:08h)
As the Steel Crusher impacted on the rear bumper of the VAMP, Mercer was thrown backwards,, and one of the pins on the chain gun sheered away, dropping the assembly’s full weight onto his legs pinning him in place. “You guys have any spare armor plating left?” he asked, realizing he wasn’t getting his legs free anytime soon. “Kinda busy right now, and no!” replied Rock and Roll. Mercer glanced at the box secured to the floor in the middle of the VAMP and confirmed that it was indeed empty. Inconvenient. Rock and Roll and Roadblock were leaning out the side doors, returning small arms fire against the Steel Crusher around their makeshift armor-plating barricades. Franco was cowering on the floor. None of them were going to be the slightest help he realized. There was a sledge hammer strapped to the wall of the bay he was in and Mercer reached for it, thinking to use it to leaver the chain gun off himself. ----------------------------------------------------------- Cobra Steel Crusher - Edmonton, Alberta (+20:09h) The smell of blood wafted from the back seat. One of their quarry had gotten lucky and put a series of bullets through Lau’s second-to-last Fast-Blast Viper. His body was slumped in the backseat. But it was a fair trade-off. Ramming the enemy had taken their main gun out of operation and the two men with hand-weapons were much easier to counter. A sharp S-turn took them out of the line of fire for a few seconds, but then they were running along the open road again on the south side of the river valley. To their left, Lau couls see a speeding commuter train. “Push them left!” The Moto-Viper complied, cutting into the right lane as Lau laid down a ribbon of fire along their right flank. As expected the green vehicle attempted to swing to the left and cut across the rail tracks before the train reached them, but Lau had timed it perfectly. The driver of the fleeing vehicle was forced to swing into the concrete barricades to prevent from colliding head on with the train. To his credit, the Moto-Viper knew what Lau was intending and slowed the Steel Crusher as they passed. The men inside ducked, or at least the defenders did. The defector, who Lau hadn’t caught sight of since they left the hotel stuck his head up to look out and see what was happening, and Lau’s last remaining Fast Blast Viper nailed him between the eyes with a single shot. “Got him!” came the happy report, but the man’s pleasure at his accomplishment was short lived as the driver leaned out his door and fired back, trading one head shot for another. It didn’t matter. The Moto-Viper hit the gas, and they were out of range before any more shots could be taken by either side. “Command for you madam,” reported the Televiper. “Thank you.” Lau took the handset, “the target is down. Casualty rate high.” “The information you prevented them from gaining will be enough to ensure your survival.” “Thank you sir.” “Report to the garrison in Red Deer and await further orders.” The line went dead. As Lau handed the receiver back to the Televiper, he spoke up, “the commander will reward us for our success.” Lau nodded, “the commander will reward me.” She drew her sidearm. She would be dammed before she shared the credit with such an insignificant mole. ----------------------------------------------------------- G.I. Joe VAMP - Edmonton, Alberta (+20:10h) The hiss of steam and tick of cooling metal were the only sounds for a moment before Mercer heard Roadblock swearing heavily. “Gone?” he asked, already sure of the answer. “Dead as a brick,” Rock and Roll replied. “Took one right in the forehead the stupid sod. Who sticks their head up in a firefight?” “No IVAC I’ve ever heard of,” Mercer replied, finally managing to pry the chain gun’s weight off his legs. “I still say something wasn’t right here. “Whatever it is, we can sort it out at base. Right now, we’ve got to call this in.” Clutch sighed. “I’ve got it,” Mercer replied, eying the radio gear that had flown into the rear compartment on the crash. He reached over and picked up the receiver, selecting the pre-assigned channel and waiting for the response on the other end. “Go.” “Evasion of pursuit unsuccessful.” As was protocol, Mercer kept the chatter to a minimum knowing that the channel may not be secure. “Casualty report?” “Only the package. Minor injuries otherwise.” “Package irreparable?” “He’s dead.” “Return to the safe-house. Extraction will be there.” There was a pause and then a sigh, “the secondaries?” “Made it out before we had to bug out.” Mercer reported. The hard drives or ‘secondaries’ had been spirited off by Hacker and Psych-Out to a different part of the hotel the minute that the Cobra forces had burst into the lobby. It was only after they were gone that the rest of the team had taken Franco out the window for their ill-fated flight. “Good. Ten-four.” “Ten-four,” Mercer echoed. Something still bothered him, but he had no idea what. ----------------------------------------------------------- Coast Edmonton Plaza Hotel - Lobby- Edmonton, Alberta, Canada (+20:15h) Gears sat down on the edge of the bullet-riddled booth beside Mayday. The lobby was swarmed by local police tagging everything and questioning everyone. Or rather, they were trying to. Shockwave had made it clear no one would be talking to them without a fight. And the captain had had the brains to realize that if there were thirty-some dead terrorists in body armor littering the hotel, the police would probably not be out-fighting the special ops team inside. As such, they’d been left to look at the evidence under the supervision of two men in balaclavas, each carrying more weaponry than any three of the policemen. The nervous glances they were sharing seemed to be bringing a smile to Mayday’s face, though Gears felt sorry for them. He was used to being the unarmed one amongst a group of living death machines on most missions, and it wasn’t a comfortable position. Mayday flashed him a half-smile with the corner of her mouth, before leaning back against the booth and propping her feet up on the overturned table. “Another successful mission.” “If they got away,” Gears reminded her, still wondering what had happened after the chase got out of sight. “We’ll likely never get to find out, so there’s no point worrying about it. We killed a bunch of bad guys, and the injuries are relatively minor. If the others all make it back, nothing to complain about.” “I guess.” Mayday kicked him lightly in the shins, “you’ve got to stop worrying about things so much Gears. You’ll give yourself a heart attack. If you think about it, you never let it go,” she paused, then continued with regret in her voice, “and let me tell you, that isn’t helpful.” Gears was about to ask her what she meant, when there was shouting and pointing among the policemen outside. There seemed to be a wind picking up and they were all looking skyward. A minute later a rope unfurled from somewhere above the street, its end reaching down precisely to street level. Gears watched the police mill in confusion as the cable swayed, a few seconds later a man coming into view hand and foot clenched around rappelling harness. As his feet touched the ground, he stepped off and made his way directly for the remnants of the hotel’s front doors. Behind him the cable retracted like a whip back skywards. The police around him were shouting at him to raise his hands, but he completely ignored them. A neatly trimmed fringe of white hair and a goatee framed a serious-looking and weathered face. A worn brown bomber jacket was half-zipped revealing a white shirt and skinny black tie. Without breaking stride he stepped over, and sometimes on, the bodies littering the lobby stopping a few inches in front of the detective overseeing the police investigation. “Can I help you?” the detective asked warily. “Yes. You can barricade the street at both ends and when a couple of unmarked tractor trailers arrive, let them through and have them park in front. Then I need you to head back to your precinct and issue a public warning about this unfortunate gas leak and explosion.” There was a moment’s silence as this processed. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” “You may refer to me as Badger. Allow me to assure you, I outrank you in any conceivable way you can imagine. I can contact any politician you can name and wrap them around my little finger and then make them make you do my bidding. I can determine where, what and how you will spend the rest of your life. In two minutes I can tell you more about yourself then you can remember. I have fought on four different continents, against armies you have never heard of. I am the man who smooths things over when the G.I. Joe team needs to do something and is too busy to deal with the local politicians and police. And if you don’t get yourself and your men moving in about six seconds, you’ll learn very quickly that I am capable of showing you the exact meaning of hell-on-earth is. That’s who I am.” The detective stared. “Six.” He started to look somewhat uncomfortable. “Five.” An impasse as the two stared at each other. “Four.” Gears was pretty sure that Badger wasn’t even blinking. “Three.” The detective was the first to look away and start fidgeting with his belt. “Two.” “OK men move out, we need to get this gas leak cleared...” ----------------------------------------------------------- Grain Bin - Steen Farm - 10 Kilometers East of North Battleford, Saskatchewan (+20:10h) Java kept his eyes glued to the encryption algorithms as he listened to Chuckles giving orders. “The information you prevented them from gaining will be enough to ensure your survival.” A pause and then, “report to the garrison in Red Deer and await further orders.” The first communications array went silent as Chuckles signed off. On the other side of the grain bin, the other array activated. “Go,” Lifeline snapped. Java couldn’t hear the other side of the communication. “Casualty report?” A pause. “Package irreparable?” Another pause. “Return to the safe-house. Extraction will be there.” A question followed “the secondaries?” Java knew that they didn’t really matter. Identical copies sat in a pile on the console beside him. “Good. Ten-four.” The second array went quiet, and so did the room for a minute. Java closed his eyes and pictured how the last 20 hours had went. As soon as Franco had been hauled off by the team in the two escapes, Barrel Roll had been prepared to fly the jet away and ditch it in the Colorado Rockies, which by his report had been completed. Before takeoff, Java had watched from a car a few dozen meters behind the plane as a figure had emerged from the rear landing-gear bay. That unknown person and Lifeline had quickly piled into the backseat before the jet had taken off, and Java had gotten his first look at the team’s agent, code-named Chuckles. Or rather, hadn’t gotten a look at. Java had been kept on the opposite side of a makeshift curtain made from a pair of tarps that prevented him from ever getting a look at Chuckles, both in the car and brain bin. He had been handed a duplicate set of records in part identical to those that were with the other team, but containing far more information. He wasn’t privy to all the details, but from what he could work out, Chuckles ranked high enough in Cobra that he was in charge of hunting down defectors and moles. So whenever he needed to leak information to the Joes, he just ‘mysteriously’ caught another mole who could then be hunted down and distract any blame from him. All while having access to some of Cobra’s top files. “All right, time for me to get on my way. If Cobra notices I’m gone too long,they may get suspicious.” “Go. But keep in contact.” “It will have to wait. Now that they think the leak is plugged I’ll have to wait a few more months to let a new one appear, then I’ll start leaking stuff again. If they think I’m not catching the moles, then they’ll replace me.” “Of course.” Lifeline acknowledged. “Quite convenient that you managed to make sure that the person looking for the informant within Cobra actually is the informant. You’ll have to tell me how you pulled that off one day.” “All in good time,” Chuckles said before closing the door to the grain bin, “all in good time.” -----------------------------------------------------------
__________________
Last edited by Lifeline_MD; 05-30-2012 at 10:40 PM.. |
05-30-2012, 10:41 PM | #653 |
Darth_Henning
Join Date: Jul 2008
Location: Canada
Posts: 21,174
|
I'm also going to include something else here that I never have before. When I write each of the longer stories I do actually have an outline of where things are going so there is a plan to tie everything together (especially useful when I have to take breaks from writing)
Im not sure if anyone has any interest in seeing behind-the-scenes stuff, but I thought I'd put it out there: ================================================== =================== Defection - Joes informed that a deep cover agent from cobra will be coming in with significant intelligence about the organization and their upcoming opperations - will arive by private jet in North Battleford Airport Team 1: Mercer, Mainframe, Doc, Rook, Psych-Out, Short, Fuze, Rock and Roll, LJ, Sparta, Clutch, Roadblock (Prisoner) Team 2: Lifeline, Housecall, Airtight, Java, Clean Sweep, Barrel Roll (Cleanup) - on arrival the defector executes the crew of the plane before deboarding and is taken to Edmonton by the first unit whle the second cleans the plane and crew - crew pronounced DOA and plane stripped of all intel and hardware ( bodies removed to trailor - APC) - At and CS sterilize the plane to remove all trace of occupants and their deaths while Java coppies the contents of the avionics and patient-use terminals - Barrel Roll have the plane take off and make a run to montana; over the mountains, Parajumps out allowing the plane to crash near (insert inhabited city) - first unit takes "chuckes" in a military-reinforced semi-trailor borrowed from the RCMP to edmonton where he will be debriefed and possibly deprogramed in the safehouse in Room 401 in the Coast Edmonton Plaza hotel - security group an varrious positions throughout the building Mercer, Hacker, Doc, Rook, Psychout in room wihth the defector LJ, Sparta front desk Clutch and R&R in getaway car Short Fuze and Zap cover hall Shooter and Hollowpoint across alley in an appartment tower Shockwave, Widescope and barricade hang out in resturnat - first night goes without incident but without much revealed; - mainframe starts to work his way through the contents of the laptop and 5 portable harddrives brought in - Mayday and gears (delivering a package of tech) are eating lunch together in the resturant; gears is about to admit he'z crazy about her (in process of saying so?) when 4 steel crushers pull up ousdie and disgorve Alley vipers who swam through the front door and hold the front desk and main hall to find the safe house one group of AV takes elevators and another the mainstairs Mayday and Gears hunker behind bullet-proof booth and start to lay down cover fire on the AV in the second elevator car Shockwave and widscope block the stairs and toss flash bangs and start running gun battle Barricade enters from the garrage carrying groceries and pauses shocked before joining LJ and sparta behind the concierge desk team 1 takes chuckes out the window and down to the car for his escape when alley vipers arrive they are blocked by snipers and heavy weapons - escaping team 1 pursued by the motovipers in the steel crushers through the streets of the city- use high level bridge to get rid of one, LRT for another and some combat around the university - hotel finishes mopping up of AV and badger arrives to start sorting out the legal troubles - chase continues with roadblock firing out the top of the van while the motovipers fire back - in the end a bullet kills chuckles and the moto-vipers break off - cut to north battleford with lifeline and REAL chuckkles in a grain bin - with chuckles reporting that his team has successfully offed their target to Cobra commander - finishes providing information to lifelien and leaves for Cobra - make sure not to explicitly state the names of the individuals ================================================== =================== G.I. Joe Forces Team 1: Mercer, Hacker, Doc, Rook, Psych-Out, Short Fuze, Rock and Roll, LJ, Sparta, Clutch, Rush Hour, Roadblock (Prisoner) Team 2: Lifeline, Housecall, Airtight, Java, Clean Sweep, Barrel Roll (Cleanup) Team 3: Zap, Shooter, Hollowpoint, Shockwave, Widescope, Barricade Team 4: Mayday, Gears Team 1: Mercer, Hacker, Doc, Rook, Psych-Out, Short Fuze, Rock and Roll, LJ, Sparta, Clutch, Rush Hour, Roadblock (Prisoner - Jim Franco) Armadillo, Lugnut - security group an varrious positions throughout the building Mercer, Hacker, Doc, Rook, Psychout in room wihth the defector LJ, Sparta front desk Clutch and R&R in getaway car Short Fuze and Zap cover hall Shooter and Hollowpoint across alley in an appartment tower Shockwave, Widescope and barricade hang out in resturnat Roadblock in kitchen ================================================== =================== Cobra Forces Shock Viper Squadron 1 - SL, G, 3x Fireteams Shock Viper Squadron 2- SL, G, 3x Fireteams Shock Viper Squadron 3- SL, G, 3x Fireteams Fast Blast Viper Squadron- SL, G, 3x Fireteams Captain Lau 4 Moto-Vipers 6 Street Vipers (1 killed earlier) 2 Tele-Vipers SQUAD: Fire Team (x3) - Team Leader, Rifleman, Automatic Rifleman, Anti-Armor Specialist Grenadier Squad Leader 4/5 Squads = Platoon 2/3 Platoons = Company 5/6 Companies = Batalion ================================================== =================== |
05-31-2012, 03:46 PM | #654 |
W.O.R.M.S. Commander
Join Date: Nov 2007
Location: Back in the US of A! (NoVA)
Posts: 10,649
|
I had missed the whole Chuckles connection. I didn't see that coming. Mercer's suspicions just the fact he was leading a wild goose chase?
Is this the first time we've seen Badger?
__________________
Improvise, Adapt, and Overcome. |
05-31-2012, 05:44 PM | #655 |
Darth_Henning
Join Date: Jul 2008
Location: Canada
Posts: 21,174
|
Quote:
Yep. Mercer was picking up that he was involved in a wild goose chase. Sixth sense if you will. You may have noticed some other stuff also. Badger had a few brief lines in "Intel Inside" when they were reviewing the political situation in the States. This is his first major appearance. Expect more from him and the other political officers in the future. |
06-04-2012, 11:51 PM | #656 |
G.I.Joe medic
Join Date: Feb 2008
Location: Litchfield, ME
Posts: 3,171
|
Good stuff, pal! I definitely think I need to read it over again to see what I missed.
|
06-12-2012, 10:20 PM | #657 |
Darth_Henning
Join Date: Jul 2008
Location: Canada
Posts: 21,174
|
There's some details I'm starting to throw in to finally build the story to what was planned two years ago when I started. I hope people enjoy the ones that they find.
Apologies for the writing delay. I hope to have something up by Thursday. Two shitty weeks of real life = severe writer's block. |
06-18-2012, 09:14 PM | #658 |
Darth_Henning
Join Date: Jul 2008
Location: Canada
Posts: 21,174
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And now for something a little different. Not particularly actiony (unlike the last few installments), but something that sets up things nicely for a lot of upcomming entries.
Feeback welcome as always. 04/26/2034 - Deceit, Lies and Biker Gangs Outside The Oval Office - The White House - Washington, D.C. Alessandro Verdi wished he could remembered the day his life had changed. Billions of others around the globe did. It may have been when New Delhi ceased to exist, or when the first North Korean boots marched into China, or when Allied forces had gained their first beachhead in Asia, or Black Thursday. They all had some degree of certainty. Alessandro envied them that. He knew that sometime in his life he'd had one of those days, but he couldn't remember that. His first conscious thought had been staring at a doctor from a bed in a hospital in Istanbul in August of 2027, three months after the air-raids had stopped. He wasn't entirely sure what had led him to even be in Istanbul. It was obvious he was Italian, and while both countries were involved in the war, Italian troops were almost universally deployed in Algeria along the Libian border. Contact with the Italian embassy and then government on his behalf had yielded nothing. Not even a name. Which years later he knew was unusual in and of itself. He'd stayed in Istanbul's hospital for treatment the next four months, but they had eventually decided that the brain damage he had suffered was negligible, at least physically, and the memory loss was untreatable. While he didn't remember the day his life had changed, he did remember when his new life had improved. After being ejected from the hospital he took to the streets with a name he had made up for himself and found a job working for hotel food service. Somewhere he had learned to speak over a dozen languages, quickly making him the face of the staff when their usual workforce was depleted by conscription. By chance his hotel had served as a secure meeting place for the military commanders planning the Allied offensive of 2028. A series of asaults in Africa had pushed back Axis territory significantly, and soon the same strategy would be tried in Asia. At the time of course, he hadn't known that. He just had to get the food to the meeting hall and hand it off to the security staff for vetting. Quite by accident he'd come to know of the plan when he had been returning from a delivery with his service cart, and a general late for the meeting came dashing around the corner. Alessandro had managed to stop the cart to avoid hitting the man, but had caught the edge of a briefcase he was carrying, causing it to be knocked out of his hands, and loosing a map that slid beneath the cart. Apologizing profusely Alessandro had bent to pick both up, but the General had waved off the apology, claiming full responsibility for being late. Alessandro had pulled the map and handed it back to the General. Something inside him however had forced him to say something that would never have crossed his conscious mind. He still remembered the exact words: "If you attack from Datong rather than Quingdao your forces will have a shorter distance to march and you won't have to deal with Korean naval forces. Also, Western Beijing is less fortified than the Eastern side." Alessandro knew that he hadn't glanced at the map for more than a half second, but he had memorized the entire layout of the battleplans in that time, and could have drawn them from memory if asked. The ability had manifested itself before when he had first looked at a map of Istanbul. He knew instantly where everything was. It wasn't a photographic memory. It only seemed to work with maps, but it scared him. He knew the fear showed on his face, but on the General's was a guarded curiosity. Alessandro had apologized, taken the cart, and made for the elevator at a completely undignified run. The rest of the day he had been sure that he would be arrested and executed. Or worse. That evening his fears had almost come to materialize. The general had appeared at the door to his small quarters in the hotel's staff area and asked to speak to him. Alessandro had started to apologize again, but the general had waved him off and introduced himself as Joseph Colton. "Call me Joe," he had said. And that had been the extent of the pleasantries. "Tell me what you remember of the map." "I swear sir I-" "If you lie to me, you will regret it." The tone had been mild, but it had terrified Alessandro, and he had pulled a sheet of paper from his small desk and begun to draw, explaining as he went. Colton had watched until he finished then held up the original and compared the two. He made two corrections to the markings in Tibet, but otherwise left it as it was. He had asked Alessandro what he would change to make it better and handed him a differently coloured pen. At first Alessandro had had no idea, but as he looked at the map, words began to pour from his mouth adjusting various parts of the campaign, changing timing of others, and leaving parts intact. He hadn't understood where the ideas came from, or where the background knowledge he recited came from. None of it crossed his conscious mind, instead it came unbidden. When he was finished, Colton had shown him a maps of Siberia and Southeast Asia for a handful of seconds each, and told him to do the same. Alessandro had without fail. When he was done Colton had asked him if he could repeat what he had done that evening. Alessandro had answered truthfully that he had no idea and explained his amnesia. Colton had regarded him shrewdly, nodded and left without another word, taking Alessandro's sketches with him. Guards had confined him to his room for the next thirty-seven hours before Colton returned. The next week was harder to follow and generally a blur in Alessandro's memory - though, he reflected, at least there was a blur there - where he had quickly been attached to Colton as a personal aide-du-camp. At first Colton had been the only one who really trusted him, but as the rest of the Allied staff he was working among learned of his near-complete amnesia, he was seen as one of the lowest risk aides as it was impossible for him to have other allegiances. The only point of contention that had arisen between Alessandro and Colton was Alesssandro's refusal to arm himself under any circumstances. His argument, often reiterated, was that until he could regain his own life, he wouldn't be responsible for taking anyone else's away from them. There were two things he never told Colton, or anyone else for that matter. The first was a lingering question. Why would an Italian would be in Turkey? Was he a conscientious objector? Would bearing a weapon be against who he was? The second was a deep-rooted fear that he may not have really been on the same side as the people who now trusted him with their lives, and the lives of those under their command. He would not risk allowing himself to hurt the people who had shown him kindness, whoever he may be. And now, over a decade later, he found himself still with Colton, this time not fighting the Axis, but Cobra, which arguably was more dangerous. Of course, he still didn't remember anything before waking up in that hospital, but at least he had a decade of memories where he'd help make a difference in people's lives. Hardly anyone knew his name, but he liked it that way. If anyone ever did, he hoped it would be by his real name. Beside him, Colton blew out a breath of annoyance. Alessandro shared his annoyance. They'd been waiting for over an hour since their meeting was supposed to start. They were waiting outside the Oval Office while President Hargreeves met with Secretary of State Matthius before they would be allowed in to discuss the Battle of New York. Waiting with them was a member of the Secret Service who was tasked with not-so-discretely keeping them from going anywhere other than their assigned place to stand. Something was odd about her, Alessandro had noticed. But he couldn't tell what made him think that. Colton referred to moments like these where he thought of things, or picked up on unplaceable cues as his "sparks of brilliance", which had led to Colton - and basically everyone now - calling him Sparks. He was pretty sure it had something to do with he voice, possibly her accent. It was mostly Washington, but there was an undertone he couldn't place that definitely did not fit. He cracked his neck to one side then the other, and shifted on the balls of his feet, wondering how much longer he would have to wait. ----------------------------------------------------------- The Terrordrome On another continent the silence of a darkened audience chamber was broken only by the rhythmic click of Cobra Commander's shoes as he paced back and forth across the dais. Behind the opulent and imposing throne, Scarface and Ghost stood rigidly at attention. The two exchanged a glance. One simply did not keep the Commander waiting, and this man was absolutely pushing it. “Ghost!” “Sir!” “When should I be expecting this contractor to arrive?” “Any minute now sir. It is possible our security has delayed him.” Ghost knew that wasn’t the case, but the commander would realize that soon enough. “Could you really not have found anyone more reliable?” “I assure you,” came a silky voice from the darkened edge of the room, “I am the most reliable man in this room.” A deeper shadow detached itself from the blackness around the edge of the room. A dark brown cloak shrouded the man’s features, casting his face in shadow. Beneath it, Ghost could see burnished body-armor over a darker brown body suit. “You seem to have an issue with your watch,” Scarface shot back. Inwardly Ghost rolled his eyes. He’d noticed the man enter the room almost to the second at the top of the hour. That of course was the perfect final confirmation that he had contracted with the correct agency. It had to be a group with as much reach as Cobra, with a more mobile organization, and equally trained operatives. No terrorist group could manage that. Even the Baroness’s impressive network relied mostly on paying people handsomely for information they didn’t know was important, and computer hacking. The art of infiltration was a hard one to master, and this particular group was unquestionably the best. “No issue,” the man answered. “The meeting simply wasn’t ready to start yet.” To that, Scarface had no answer. “And now,” The Commander took charge, “it is.” The robed man nodded, but did not move from the edge of the shadows. The only part of his face that they could make out were strange reflections from his eyes. “As you wish Commander. You’re paying me for my time.” “That I am, Zartan. Though I question why our organization was forced to resort to a biker gang full of military washouts.” There was a slight gleam as Zartan flashed a smile beneath his cowl, “if I thought you were foolish enough to actually believe that, I wouldn’t have wasted my time coming here, Mr. Braco.” Ghost felt his spine straighten involuntarily. There were fewer than a half-dozen people on the planet who knew The Commander’s real name. That Zartan had figured it out meant that he was more dangerous, and in possession of more resources than expected. That led to problems with everything within Cobra. Their organization was built on numerous levels of secrecy, and if that was compromised...Ghost was not brave enough to consider the potential consequences, both for the organization and himself. “I see you’ve done your research Mr. Hoffman.” The Commander appeared unconcerned - or he was just plotting something for later. It was impossible to tell. “Of course, so have I.” That, Ghost had not expected. If the Commander had looked into Zartan and his Dreadnoks, he hadn’t done it through the usual intelligence channels within Cobra. Which raised other questions. Questions Ghost did not like because he did not already know the answer. “Have you?” Zartan queried. “Would you care to enlighten me with your findings? You might realize how woefully inadequate your intelligence resources are.” “A poor assumption,” The Commander responded. Ghost could almost taste him gloating. “I know all about who you are Zartan.” “Would you care to enlighten me? I have such a hard time remembering.” Ghost felt a slight frown crease his forehead. It had started as a taunt, but there was some undertone, almost like he was actually asking the question that was out of place. “Your real name is Zayl. You grew up in a foster home buried in Kansas. There you met two other children, Zack and Zoe, who shared your hatred for authority and wanted to take out that frustration on someone.” Zartan’s hood shifted, indicating that despite the shadows he was nodding, “while you, Commander, were born Anthony Braco. The wealthy son of an American father and a British mother. Leading a prosperous life in Cardiff.” Ghost tried to gauge the commander’s mood, but it was impossible to tell what was going on behind the reflective mask. Though, he suspected that he would not be pleased that someone had found those particular details out. “As you grew up,” the commander continued, his flat voice challenging Zartan, “you were a middling student, which hid a mensa-level intellect, but your hatred for authority prevented you from showing it, lest it validate what your teachers were attempting to do.” “Whereas you, had no hesitation to show off your genious, yet when it was not recognized to the degree you desired, you began to question the state of society, and the more you investigated, the more disgusted you became, even though you attended Oxford, you wpent your spare time investigating fringe and terrorist groups to begin looking at ways to bring down the current social order.” “While in your spare time,” the Commander interrupted, “your superior intelligence allowed you to learn over twenty languages, and develop a nearly photographic memory. You learned to act through a drama program, and create extensive histories for each of your characters from a love of Dungeons and Dragons. As you grew up, you, Zack and Zoe formed a family unit of your own, refusing to let any of you be adopted. You financed your and your adopted siblings freedom by forging identifications, stealing credit cards, and general thievery.” Zartan coughed once, then took up his side of the narrative, “at Oxford you had no need of financing, as you earned far more than enough in scholarships and grants to pay for your education, and your extensive trust fund was enough to start a small trucking company, ARBCO, which you gradually expanded into a variety of other operations including warehousing, manufacturing, international sea and air transport, and a myriad of others.” “Yet I am not the only entrepreneur in the room. You, Zack and Zoe started an anarchist biker gang, the Dreadnoks to fight against authority, which you ran succcessfully for several years. Your first legal job only came when you were caught stealing from and impersonating General Amauri Sanderson of the CIA, who recognized your extensive character backgrounds as a valuable asset for the intelligence division. Zack, Zoe and a handful of others were similarly employed, while the rest of the gang simply disappeared.” “By contrast, your fortunes appeared to continue along a single path, growing your company by leaps and bounds, jockeying brilliantly into sectors where you competed neither against Extensive Enterprises, Dragon and Phoenix Industries, MARS or Raptor Incorporated. In fact, often they were among your biggest clients. So you prospered. Yet behind the public facade, you also had a second life, slowly growing what would become this organization behind the front, spreading the world’s largest terrorist organization across the globe without the slightest hint to any government.” Ghost suspected that the Commander was smiling behind his mask. That covert spread was one of the things he was most proud of. But he continued to spar with Zartan. “You became one of the military’s most skilled intelligence and infiltration agents thanks to both your mental state, and facility with holograms and illusions. When the war broke out a few years after your employment, you were put into a test program to allow these skills to be enhanced by advanced biotechnology created by Dr. Blinken-Smyth. Bio-implants that would allow you to become anyone anywhere, change your skin colour, your features and your voice at will. Sadly the experimentation failed, and of course, Dr. Blinken-Smyth’s experimentation left you unable to enter the sunlight anymore. Which is why you are hiding in the shadows even now.” Zartan shrank back slightly further into the shadows, clearly annoyed by the statement, but shot back, “you couldn’t afford your position to be jeopardized, so you employ a small army of officers to run interference for you within your own organization, hiding your own face behind that mask, allowing people to think you are anyone, yet never really knowing to whom they answer.” The Commander nodded, Ghost was glad that neither of them had drawn weapons on the other yet, not because he feared a firefight, but he was learning more in the last ten minutes about both men than he had ever hoped to learn. It was again the Commander’s turn to elaborate on Zartan’s life. “The experiment’s failure cemented your hatred for authority, and you abandoned the military with those who had followed you from the Dreadnoks, and Dr. Blinken-Smyth. After you left the military, you began working as an assassin and mercenary, bringing in similarly disgruntled military personnel from around the world. And here, your Dreadnoks provided you the perfect cover, a biker gang that could be turned to your purposes. As the war raged on around you, you attracted the best and most violent of disgruntled military deserters, particularly those with backgrounds in intelligence to turn your gang into the world’s most extensive shadow intelligence network.” “No ALL of the best deserters,” Zartan conceeded, “it was difficult to compete with the financing of Cobra for the most mercenary of them. A network that is far more extensive than my gang. Of course, I’ve had other things to worry about.” “Of course,” the Commander feigned a sudden remembering something he had forgotten. “You suffer from schizophrenia and multiple personality disorder, which you manage with medication when needed, but allow to flourish when you need to impersonate someone, because it allows you to mimic anyone you desire perfectly. I know that Dr. Blinken-Smythe worries that you’ll completely lose your sense of self if you continue to impersonate people. Yet you ignore him, simply for the challenge of learning things that no other person should know.” “And you commander suffer from nothing more than a severely elevated ego, believing that you alone are the man who will change the world. Even though as time passes you must have finally learned that you cannot do it yourself.” The chamber fell silent when Zartan finished speaking. Ghost figured that that exchange was a draw, but given that neither had sold the other out by this point indicated they were at least willing to work with each other. Zartan was the one to break the silence. “I believe we have an understanding then.” “Indeed we do. Most impressive. Your Dreadnoks will be in contact with the information we require?” Zartan’s hood dipped, indicating a nod, “any information you request that we have in our possession will be yours within a day after receipt of payment.” Zartan turned to leave, but his progress was halted by a final question from the Commander, “And are the Joes aware of our plans in Europe?” “Yes they are,” Zartan responded, “and they are preparing a counter-offensive that will cripple your forces should you continue without changing your designs.” “Rather valuable information,” Cobra Commander observed. “For your fee, I would have expected that included.” “No one asked me,” Zartan shrugged. “If there is anything else you wish to know, do not hesitate to contact me...after depositing to the same account.” “Good to have you working for us,” the Commander said as Zartan stepped through the open door. Zartan paused, framed in the light gray glow of the doorway. “Let me make one thing perfectly clear to you Commander,” the last word inflected with a level of scorn that Ghost had never heard before. “I work for NO-ONE. So long as you’re the highest bidder, your interests and mine will continue to coincide. The moment that changes, you mean nothing to me.” Last edited by Lifeline_MD; 06-18-2012 at 09:17 PM.. |
06-18-2012, 09:16 PM | #659 |
Darth_Henning
Join Date: Jul 2008
Location: Canada
Posts: 21,174
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The Oval Office - The White House - Washington, D.C. Sparks took the seat near the door, able to observe the entire room. President Jeremy Hargreeves was seated behind his desk, his back to the windows, Secretary of State Sean Matthius was standing behind his shoulder, Colton had taken a seat on one of the plush couches after saluting sharply, and three secret servicemen were stationed around the room trying, and failing, to look invisible. “Thank you for seeing me Mr. President.” “It is a professional courtesy General. Allow me to assure you that the Secretary and I are not pleased with your actions in New York.” Colton raised an eyebrow slightly but remained silent. “The Secretary has asked me to remind you that the operation recklessly endangered the lives of millions of Americans, and that as such, we could not support your operation. In future, any operations you plan to conduct on American soil must be approved by the Joint Cheifs and,” here the President paused, shooting a look at Sparks, “another organization. At this point, we are not laying charges other than for full repayment of any and all damages caused to American property due to your activities.” “I’m sure the jugglers will be their usual cooperative selves,” Colton replied sarcastically. For his part the president looked affronted that anyone would have the audacity to name that particular secret body by name. “And once you have the cost of the damages please forward them to my aide, and we will deal with them...appropriately.” Sparks suppressed a smirk, recognizing code for ‘shove it up your ass.’ “Be sure that you do. Now for what reason did want to see me.” “Well sir, as I’m sure you are no doubt aware, we were promised support of several divisions of the American military, as well as -” “If we were to have our military fighting in the streets of New York,” the President interrupted, “needlessly endangering civilian lives, it would have completely destroyed any confidence the population has in them.” The President raised a hand to forestall counter-argument. “We can’t afford to appear to be instituting martial law. You know as well as I do the public reaction when we were forced to use it after Black Thursday.” “If I may be so bold, Mr. President, had the public seen the army out fighting to keep their lives and livelihoods safe, they may have gained back some of that lost confidence. In support of-” “You have no way to substantiate that claim,” the President cut in again. “Not as such, but if you were to look into the response by both the mainstream media, and the commentary of average citizens, you will find them to be overwhelmingly positive. My aide has the statistics. Similarly, several professional polling companies have found that over two thirds of the American population think that the G.I. Joe team had a positive effect on the situation. Meanwhile, almost ninety percent condemn the inaction of the American military.” “Purely supposition,” the President countered, “the Joes are currently a novelty and their popularity will fade with time, but the American military has a history that they are responsible for living up to. Seeing our forces in the streets, armed and controlling civilian activities would have been completely counter-productive.” Sparks could see Colton gritting his teeth at the recursive argument, but Colton restrained his obvious annoyance, and instead countered, “if the concern was that your armed forces could not be seen fighting in the streets, then why was blockade support withdrawn?” “The blockade was not in our best interests.” “Could you elaborate please?” “Our analysis suggests that it would have hindered future trade into the port of New York, and could have significantly increased casualties in the city as Cobra’s forces would have been forced to retaliate. They did not resort to bombing during combat, but we believe that they would have if they had been pressured.” “Now, YOU have no way to substantiate that claim.” “In point of fact General, your forces are the ones who informed us that behind the distraction of the New York attacks, Cobra launched a massive technological assault on the governing and financial institutions of this great nation. Given that, we can surmise with a high degree of certainty that they would have wanted to evacuate New York as soon as possible.” Sparks noted that throughout this entire exchange that the Secretary of State had yet to say anything, even though the President’s phrasing sounded nothing like himself, yet mirrored almost exactly how the Secretary talked in press conferences. Intriguing. Colton opened his mouth to argue but was cut off again. “If you attempt to run any further operations within the United states, you will not only not receive our support, but we will prosecute both your operatives and YOU to the full extent of the law. Any further problems will result in withdrawal of any American financing and personnel. Now if you’ll excuse me,” the President rose from his chair, “I have another meeting in five minutes.” For the first time the Secretary spoke, “my office looks forward to hearing from yours about ALL further activities.” As Sparks hurried after Colton through the reception area he noticed the secretary seated behind the desk looking at him. There was something about her that was definitely unsuited to her position. Her gaze was too...he paused, thinking of the right word...analytical. ----------------------------------------------------------- The Pentagon Two hours later Secretary of State Sean Matthius sat in the comfortable leather chair behind his desk in his own office. Nodding, he looked painfully bored as his secretary rattled off a series of memos that had come in while he was away. Most of them he filed under the 'ignore and deal with later' part of his brain, but the last one caught his attention. "And lastly, someone who says you would know her as Agent Z is here to make a report. She refuses to produce identification, but presented all the appropriate clearance codes." "Send her in at once. We are not to be disturbed until after she has left." "Of course sir." Matthius sank into his chair, and once his secretary had left, flipped open the left armrest and pressed a series of switches. The first two deactivated the recording devices he had installed in the desk and the ceiling, the next three activated scramblers that would block anyone else's listening devices that may have been present and the last one activated a series of gears within the wall that would position sound dampening devices to prevent any noise leakage to the surrounding rooms. A woman with short, spiked, pink hair entered the room a minute later, and stood to attention as Matthius’s secretary closed the door behind her. “Agent Z Secretary. I am here to report on-” Matthius waved a hand to cut her off, “you can cut the crap Zarana, no one can listen to us.” Instantly the professional bearing and any deference evaporated. Zarana walked over to the chair in front of the desk unbidden, and sat down, unbuttoning her uniform most of the way down to her waist. “ ‘Bout bloody time ya saw me. Its ‘een two dais since ya stuck ‘e in da middle of a war zone.” Zandar tried not to shudder at her Brooklyn accent. It had always made him wince since the day he met her. “I’ve been a bit busy precisely because of that war zone,” he reminded her. “It wasn’t exactly my idea to start World War IV in our back yard.” “Ya ‘idn’t ‘ave ta stick me inna it. Buzzer ‘as close.” “We needed him for a different operation,” Zandar explained, careful not to elaborate. Zarana glowered, but said nothing. Zandar sighed and moved on, “what did you gather from New York?” “They ‘ook tha film in ma cam’ra, but ‘ot in ma earings.” “Perfect.” Zandar wondered idly how much longer they could get away with that particular trick. Every time espionage advanced, counter-espionage caught up in the space of a few months. He’d have to get in touch with Monkeywrench to see if he could come up with a new idea. Zarana handed over a small memory-stick with the information, and Zandar pocketed it to the inside of his suit. He wouldn’t risk viewing it here, even though his personal laptop was not connected to the work network. He would only view it when he was in a much more secure location. “Anything particularly interesting?” “Ah should say so. Ironblood ‘as t’ere.” Zandar blanched slightly, “that is...unfortunate.” “ ‘Ould seem ‘ey’re gettin ‘eady to make deir move.” “I can’t see them doing that yet, but...” Zandar paused, unsure of what to say, “that is something to keep in mind. If the Shadows start moving, the battle between the Joes and Cobra will look like a schoolyard brawl.” “Should ay report to our dear brother?” “No,” Zandar replied, almost too quickly. “I think you and I should keep this to ourselves for now.” Zarana nodded. Neither of them entirely trusted their step-brother, and ever since the War, they’d known they would eventually need an out-clause if they were to survive what was coming. |
06-19-2012, 11:17 AM | #660 |
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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Wow you weren't kidding. No Action but a huge amount of groundwork laid down. I felt just like Ghost. Like a fly on the wall catching in the scenery.
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Improvise, Adapt, and Overcome. |
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