RolePlay onLine RPoL Logo

, welcome to Grey Cell

10:52, 2nd May 2024 (GMT+0)

[IC] Chapter Three.

Posted by TegyriusFor group 0
Tegyrius
GM, 461 posts
Mon 18 Jan 2016
at 15:25
  • msg #1

[IC] Chapter Three

 

An investigator for the Air Forces stated that three so-called flying saucers had been recovered in New Mexico.  They were described as being circular in shape with raised centers, approximately 50 feet in diameter.  Each one was occupied by three bodies of human shape but only 3 feet tall, dressed in metallic cloth of a very fine texture.  Each body was bandaged in a manner similar to the blackout suits used by speed flyers and test pilots.

According to Mr. [REDACTED] informant, the saucers were found in New Mexico due to the fact that the Government has a very high-powered radar set-up in that area and it is believed the radar interferes with the controlling mechanism of the saucers.

No further evaluation was attempted by SA [REDACTED]...

- Memorandum from SAC Guy Hottel to FBI Director Hoover, March 22, 1950

 
Tegyrius
GM, 477 posts
Thu 28 Jan 2016
at 22:56
  • msg #2

[IC] Chapter Three

Incirlik Air Base, Turkey
   (FBI New York Field Office, New York, New York)
   (FBI Academy, Quantico Marine Corps Base, Virginia)
   (FBI Atlanta Field Office, Atlanta, Georgia)
09 June 2015
1319 hrs local (1119 hrs Zulu; 0619 hrs Romeo)

"We're online, sir."

"Thank you, Sergeant."  Group Captain Grant Mewes makes a conscious effort to look into the camera, not the screen below it.  "I'm sorry to drag you away from your respective leaves but we have a developing situation.  As soon as we're off the line, Captain Kowalska and Mister Durand will be on a direct flight to Cape Canaveral with your rapid deployment pallets.  An Amber Cell support package will be no more than six hours behind them.  For those of you in America, the FBI offices that tracked you down have been instructed to assist with your transportation to meet them.  Chief, your briefing."  With the unexpectedly terse handoff, he leans back in his seat.

"Sir."  CWO3 Ted Bannon takes a sip from a coffee mug bearing the silhouette of a B-52 surrounded by the slogan Peace Through Superior Firepower.  "Captain, Miss Omdahl, gentlemen: you're gonna need some context first.  Pardon the digression, this will make sense soon.

"Last week, I got a call from a guy Barbrak and I used to work with.  Lieutenant Commander Chad Waters.  The commander's third-generation naval aviation; he's a Seahawk driver out of North Island.

"Commander Waters' grandfather was a former fighter pilot, Captain Floyd Waters.  He died last month in a state veterans' hospital in Daytona Beach.  It wasn't unexpected; he'd been hospitalized for Alzheimer's and cancer for two years.  The commander inherited a bunch of the captain's Navy memorabilia, which he's spent the past couple of weeks going through."

Bannon clicks something on the laptop PC in front of him and a scan of an archaic U.S. Navy personnel file appears in the videoconference window.  "Here's where it starts getting weird.  This was in Captain Waters' personal effects.  It shows him assigned to something called Observation Squadron Fifty-Four in the late fifties.  The commander hadn't heard of this before, so he started digging and came up blank.  There's no such squadron - never has been.  But it shows up in the Veterans' Administration records.  However, the Navy's own personnel records show Captain Waters assigned to Air Development Squadron One during that time."

"At this point, Commander Waters contacted me, probably because I'm the best pipeline he has into the Chiefs' Mafia."  Something tightens around Bannon's eyes.  "Neither of us thought it was anything more than a records fail, but I made some calls.  A buddy of mine is retired and works for the VA now.  He came up with a list of fourteen other elderly veterans who were assigned to this nonexistent squadron in the mid- to late fifties.  They are, or were, all in Florida, and nine of them have died in the last two months, in or near VA hospitals or state veterans' facilities."

Bannon clears the personnel file from the videoconference.  "So by this point, this looks statistically improbable, but you're askin' yourselves how this is a Task Force Forty-Seven mission.  Well, six of those deaths, including Captain Waters', were recorded as natural causes.  But the other three..."  He clicks again and the videoconference feed is replaced by a grainy surveillance camera video, paused on a view of a parking lot.  "One was a hit-and-run traffic accident, no witnesses.  The second was a shooting during a liquor store robbery in Boca Raton - again, no suspects, but the local police are working it.  The third..."

The video window expands and plays.  From the angle and the swath of sidewalk and landscaping in frame, the camera is mounted above a building's entrance.  From the handicapped parking spaces at the far edge of the picture, an elderly man with a cane is slowly walking toward the entrance.  Another man - tall, slender, dark-haired - enters from the left and casually but swiftly moves to intercept.  There's a brief exchange of words.  Without warning, the elderly man begins to reach for something in his pocket, but the tall man blurs into motion, his hand lashing out toward the other's throat with a long knife.  The elderly man crumples, his neck all but completely severed.  As the killer turns away, almost casually, the camera catches him in profile.  His impassive face is that of "Charlie Sheen" - not the actor, but the alien that Michael Dacovetti put down with a borrowed assault rifle on a Melbourne street.  The specimen that's now the centerpiece of the world's highest-classified traveling anatomy exhibit.

"So, there you are," Bannon says, clearing the video window from the conference feed.  "Definitely our problem."

Mewes sets aside his tea and straightens his shoulders.  "This is off the script we've seen the Attars use in prior contacts.  Until now, they've operated in the context of terrorism and destabilization.  This appears to be a targeted killing and the - what's your word, Mister Choi, 'victimology?' - is suggestive of a broader pattern.  Miss Kowalska, your team is to investigate and take appropriate action as the situation firms up.  Generate a suitable legend for your team, or for those personnel who can't pass for American.  Supporting documentation will arrive with Amber Cell.  Your liaison with American military authorities is Commander Stephen Vest, whom I believe most of you know.  Mister Choi, you're obviously on point for engagement with local law enforcement.

"Questions?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:25, Sun 31 Jan 2016.
Sebastien Durand
player, 273 posts
DGSE
Dave Ross
Sat 30 Jan 2016
at 11:07
  • msg #3

[IC] Chapter Three

Durand had been back at Incirlik for several days. Should anyone care to inspect his passport they would see no  evidence that he had been anywhere other than his stated leave destinations of Paris or Geneva. but whilst he had indeed spent a few days in each of those places the bulk of his leave had been spent elsewhere, a circuitous route that had taken him from the Gulf States to North Africa, one that had ultimately yielded him a name and a place, a place that he and the man now sitting on the other side of Karolina Kowalska had concluded that they could not go alone.

The DGSE operator was glad to see the Polish Captain back, had been happy to relinquish leadership of the team back to her. In a way he was more than happy, for there had been a sense of relief in thinking that he was now a step further removed from the bullshit politics that seemed to accompany Grey Cell. Australia had brought those challenges home to Durand, how their job had been made more complicated by the inter agency dick measuring that had gone on.

He had listened to the briefing in silence. When Cape Canaveral had been mentioned his initial thought had been that their next mission was going to be something to do with the American launch facility, that perhaps the Attars were interfering with that in some way. It was an area that the Frenchman had a good deal of familiarity with, courtesy of his last posting to the French equivalent in Kourou. He'd visited a few NASA facilities during that assignment, including the Kennedy Space Centre, attended meetings, met a few of his American counterparts, some of whom he reflected might still be in post.

As Bannon continued however  that thought was pushed from his mind as it seemed that the Space Centre was not the reason that they would be travelling to Florida. When the Chief has finished the Frenchman breaks the silence that follows. "A couple of questions if I may Group Captain, Chief. Firstly, forgive me, I understand how this falls under our remit, however I'm a little unclear as to our role. Are we being called in officially? Or is this being sanctioned through some sort of back channel?"

He pauses, shifts towards Bannon. Durand likes the Chief and has no particular problem with doing a favour for a friend, even if that involves flying under the radar - his own recent activities were hardly authorised by any official body, including Task Force 47 - but their problems in Australia have left him wary. "To be clear Chief, I'm good either way but I think the answer to the question affects how we carry out our investigation."

"Secondly, what else can we find out about this Observation Squadron Fifty Four? Officially or otherwise? Maybe someone can talk to the surviving veterans? And has anyone done anything to put them under some sort of protection? They clearly seem to be at risk." Durand looks towards the image of Choi on the screen. "James, is that something that your people can take care of it isn't already being done?"
Karolina Kowalska
player, 150 posts
Captain, GROM
Spartan-117
Sat 30 Jan 2016
at 12:36
  • msg #4

[IC] Chapter Three

Karolina listened intently during the briefing, while taking notes on the TEMPEST laptop sitting in front of her.  Her fingers danced lightly on the keyboard, as she brought up a map of Daytona Beach, a weather forecast for that location, along with Google searches for Observation Squadron Fifty-Four and Air Development Squadron One.  Since the aggregate of the Internet searches conducted by Task Force 47 personnel could lead to the compromise of classified information, it was carefully protected from inspection.  First it traversed Blue Cell’s ISSE Guard, which controlled classified and unclassified data, ensuring the interconnected high-side couldn’t leak the S/SAP data that her laptop housed.  Once clear of the ISSE Guard, her request was serviced by a low-side firewall that farmed out HTTP requests to a series of world-wide proxies via ECC secured VPNs.

Of course Karolina didn’t understand the technology and engineering required to protect classified information while also ensuring she could also access a collection of shared information so vast it was sometimes called it the ‘8th continent’.  No, she just knew that the network was slow again today.  She had every intention of mentioning it to the IT guy following this meeting.

”We will need a full rundown of the names and any surviving family members as well Chief,” Lina said with a deferential nod as Bannon indicated that 9 of the 14 had been killed.  Lina was especially keen to interview any spouses.  Even men long-sworn to secrecy talked when their guard was down, something Karolina had exploited more than once.

”Our adversary may be trying to prevent us from obtaining historical information which has some nexus with their current operations,” Kowalska said.  She had taken to referring to the extra-terrestrials as ‘the adversary’ or ‘our adversary’ since that was easier for her to mentally processes than acknowledging that there was some kind of interstellar cold war happening on Earth.  It was the kind of delightfully non-attributive phrase that intelligence organizations loved.

”The recorded attack makes me think that the assassination was so important the adversary couldn’t delay their timeline in order to manipulate the situation to look like an accident,” Lina said, openly speculating.
This message was last edited by the player at 07:40, Mon 01 Feb 2016.
James Choi
player, 186 posts
Special Agt, FBI HRT
Raellus
Sat 30 Jan 2016
at 17:15
  • msg #5

[IC] Chapter Three


"Protection?" James asks. "That's tricky. If we're going to make this killing a federal crime, the Bureau's going to want to go all in. Do we want the FBI asking questions?"

Once again, questions of jurisdiction, disclosure, and operational security were obfuscating the mission parameters.

"Local law enforcement might be a better bet- less chance of them nosing around. If we can get a hold of some sort of squadron alumni list, could we gather the remaining survivors together in one place? They might be more inclined to talk to one another than to us." James looks at Dacovetti- listening devices were his purview. "And if we're trying to draw out the Attars, that might do the trick. On the other hand, it might not be a good idea to put all of the eggs in one basket."

-
Michael Dacovetti
player, 190 posts
Tech Sgt, JSOC JCU
keys138
Sun 31 Jan 2016
at 16:19
  • msg #6

[IC] Chapter Three

The FBI field office in New York is a nicely appointed space, reasonably comfortable chairs, and even has access to a semi-drinkable cup of imitation coffee.  It would be reasonable to conclude that too much time in too many locales with good coffee has ruined the palette of one Michael Dacovetti.  Of course, when you drink for the caffeine, little details like taste become superfluous to the grander mission at large.  Neither he, nor his wife had been the least bit surprised when his iPhone had started to ring.  There hadn't been tears, just an acknowledgement of a return to normal after an almost unprecedented number of days together. A few more kisses and a "see you soon, my love," and the airman was out the door with his bags and handgun.  Maybe this is the specimen of marriage for normal people.  Those who aren't engaged in combat with aliens from the universe at large, he thought as he climbed into the waiting car.

The FBI hadn't looked too put out when they agents had been kicked out of the heavily secured conference room.  Probably an aftereffect of the great War on Terror that was starting to look increasingly like a warm up to something worse.

"Can we get a lip reader on this video?" Dacovetti asks abruptly. "Maybe we'll get something, maybe we won't, but I'd like to lock down the possibility.  And what was in his pocket?  I'd also like to know if the surviving members of this Squadron Fifty Four are talking to each other already.  If we can't get taps or records, maybe we can get into the switch stations and find out ourselves.

"If they are talking, we should find out what they know or suspect.  Putting all our eggs in one basket would severely expose us to losing all our connections in one botched operation, but it might be possible to arrange to link two of them up an observe what happens.

"Finally," he says, brain dump almost complete, "do we have any Grouse or Mallard indications? Or are we not operational there, yet? "  Michael leans back, and sips his coffee, then almost leaps back forward.  "Oh, and nice to see everyone."
Tegyrius
GM, 484 posts
Sun 31 Jan 2016
at 16:39
  • msg #7

[IC] Chapter Three

Mewes nods to Sébastien.  "At least to start, Mister Durand, I'm afraid you'll be operating in grey areas again.  Our contacts in the Office of Naval Intelligence can't give you official standing to investigate a series of deaths that already have been ruled natural, not can they insert you into the homicide investigations that the local constabulary are conducting."  His eyes flick to the camera again, as close as he can come to making eye contact with the agents across the Atlantic.  "They have arranged basing facilities at Cape Canaveral and there are alternate sites on standby at Maysport and Pensacola, should you need to shift your operations centre.  Ah - Miss Omdahl, they've also arranged the loan of a Knighthawk and support crew.

"That being said, the Amber Cell package will include full briefing materials and," he winces slightly, "Charlie Sheen.  Captain Kowalska, you're authorized to fully read in local authorities at your discretion.  Our ONI liaison has suggested that involving the local FBI offices may provide official support even if a federal investigation isn't opened, but I recommend you consult with Mister Choi on that point.

"As far as VO-54 - that's Observation Squadron Fifty-Four - I'm afraid they're a cipher.  The only mention of their existence we've found is in the Veterans' Administration medical records."

While Mewes speaks, Bannon has been hammering his keyboard.  With a final flurry of keystrokes, he inserts a scrolling text file into the videoconference.  "Here we go.  This is sorted by date of death."

Ormond, Christopher K. (retired O-5; naval aviator)
Date of Death: 07 Apr 2015
Location of Death: Sims State Veterans' Nursing Home, Panama City, FL
Cause of Death: Heart attack
Next of Kin: Daughter

Jardine, Bertram D. (former E-6; Aviation Electrician's Mate rating)
Date of Death: 11 Apr 2015
Location of Death: Westminster Village Retirement Home, Pensacola, FL
Cause of Death: Heart attack
Next of Kin: None on record

Paredes, Simon W. (retired O-5; aviation maintenance officer)
Date of Death: 18 Apr 2015
Location of Death: Lake City VA Medical Center, Lake City, FL
Cause of Death: Heart attack
Next of Kin: Twin sister

Beck, Conrad E. (retired E-8; Aviation Electronics Technician rating)
Date of Death: 24 Apr 2015
Location of Death: Malcom Randall VA Medical Center, Gainesville, FL
Cause of Death: Stroke
Next of Kin: Wife

Buki, Felix M. (retired E-8; Aerographer's Mate rating)
Date of Death: 30 Apr 2015
Location of Death: Highway A1A, St. Augustine, FL
Cause of Death: Hit-and-run driver (under investigation by St. Augustine Police Department)
Next of Kin: Wife

Waters, Floyd K. (retired O-6; naval aviator)
Date of Death: 08 May 2015
Location of Death: Bennett State Veterans' Nursing Home, Daytona Beach, FL
Cause of Death: Stroke
Next of Kin: Grandson

Gardner, Quentin L. (retired CWO3; Aviation Maintenance Technician specialty)
Date of Death: 12 May 2015
Location of Death: Private residence, Tampa, FL
Cause of Death: Stroke
Next of Kin: Partner

Frye, George C. (retired O-8, naval aviator)
Date of Death: 21 May 2015
Location of Death: Coel, Young, and Abbey Law Office, Miami, FL
Cause of Death: Homicide (under investigation by Miami Police Department)
Next of Kin: Daughter

Stephanidis, Paul T. (retired E-7; Intelligence Specialist rating)
Date of Death: 01 Jun 2015
Location of Death: BM Liquors, Boca Raton, FL
Cause of Death: Gunshot (bystander in liquor store robbery) (under investigation by Boca Raton Police Department)
Next of Kin: Son


Bannon looks up.  "To answer your question, Captain, VO-54 is the only place these guys' service history appears to overlap.  I haven't found any other direct connections after that period between fifty-six and fifty-nine.  Some were in the same units afterward, but not at the same times.  And gimme just a second on the survivors... there ya go."


Albinson, Dana L. (retired O-6; naval flight officer)
Current Residence: Nininger State Veterans' Nursing Home, Pembroke Pines, FL

Ceelen, John W. (former O-4; aviation maintenance officer)
Current Residence: Freeport, Grand Bahama

Hawkins, Darnell D. (retired E-8; Cryptologic Technician rating)
Current Residence: Homestead, FL

Herrera, Alfredo E. (retired E-9; Naval Aircrewman rating)
Current Residence: Jacobson State Veterans' Nursing Home, Port Charlotte, FL

Paddon, Robert E. (retired E-8; Machinist's Mate [Nuclear] rating)
Current Residence: Key West, FL

He shifts his gaze to the camera to answer Dacovetti.  "The guy in the video was Rear Admiral George Frye.  That was the security camera from the building where his attorney's office was located.  The lip reader is a good idea; I'll get someone on that.  Um... According to Miami PD, Admiral Frye had a Florida concealed weapon permit.  The report says he was carrying," he raises his eyebrows, "a Smith & Wesson M&P Compact in .357 SIG.  Not your typical old guy gun.

"As far as your twidget shit, your hypereducated surf bum is packing the field array right now.  Getting that up and running will be his number one job once he's on the ground at Canveral."
Caradoc Crewe
NPC, 35 posts
Corporal, 21st SAS
Sun 31 Jan 2016
at 16:46
  • msg #8

[IC] Chapter Three

In Atlanta, Caradoc glances sideways at Hannah when Mewes mentions the helicopter, but his face stays impassive.

The summary of the deceased draws a grunt from him, though.  "That's an awfully suspicious pattern," he comments.  "Three heart attacks in a row, then a sequence of three strokes.  Even for a collection of old guys.  I suppose it's too late for toxicology but if there's another death before we're in the AO, I very much want a full medical examination."
Sebastien Durand
player, 275 posts
DGSE
Dave Ross
Sun 31 Jan 2016
at 19:52
  • msg #9

[IC] Chapter Three

Durand's pen has been scribbling frantically on the yellow legal pad in front of him as Mewes and Bannon answer the various questions put to him. The revelation that they will be operating if not quite in the black then at least in the grey receives a brief nod of acknowledgment. "The obvious conclusion is that these men are being killed now because of something that they know, something that the Attars want to keep secret." The Frenchman agrees with Kowalska, although unlike the Pole he is still opting to refer to their enemy by the name that he knows them best.

"But to do it now suggests to me at least that it is something that they have kept to themselves for whatever reason, non? After all, if they had turned in any official reports whilst they were in the military those would be a matter of record. Highly classified perhaps but they would still exist somewhere and killing a bunch of senior citizens in Florida would not change that." Durand taps his chin for a moment, the tell tale sign that he is thinking, his eyes moving over what he has written down . "One of the survivors was a crypto guy, so he may have had access to a number of things. And would it be normal for someone assigned to a Squadron like that to have a nuclear rating like this Chief Paddon?"

Durand puts his pen down, looks at the screens again. "Have there been any reports of anything unusual occurring in Florida? Anything that would normally attract our attention? Reports of flying saucers, alien abductions?"In other words, the sort of stuff that classed as a normal day in the World of TF47. "Anything that might have caused the Attars to look at these guys and consider them a threat after all this time?" The Frenchman pauses for a moment. <Blue>"This is maybe a coincidence but isn't that near the Bermuda Triangle?"
This message was last edited by the player at 20:15, Sun 31 Jan 2016.
Tegyrius
GM, 486 posts
Sun 31 Jan 2016
at 21:06
  • msg #10

[IC] Chapter Three

Bannon shakes his head.  "Chief Paddon is a huge fuckin' anomaly, Seb, even on that list.  We didn't have nuclear surface ships until Enterprise launched in '60.  In the late fifties, the only Navy nucs were in the submarine fleet.  There wouldn't've been voluntary transfers because guys who could meet Admiral Rickover's standards were too rare and valuable.  If one fucked up badly enough to get de-rated from the nuclear program, he'd've been kicked out of the Navy, not transferred to an aviation unit."

"Our intel section tells me there's been a spike in UFO sightings in the American south lately," Mewes says with a wince he doesn't bother to try to conceal.  "Not much has received mainstream news coverage but social media have picked up some of the more lurid reports."

"Huh."  Bannon stares at the ceiling for a moment.  "You're on to something, Seb.  These guys have been out of service for decades.  What changed?  Do the Attars have a new operational need to kill them?"  He frowns.  "I'm gonna say it.  Did we provoke this?  The first death didn't happen until after the Libya op."
Michael Dacovetti
player, 191 posts
Tech Sgt, JSOC JCU
keys138
Sun 31 Jan 2016
at 22:41
  • msg #11

[IC] Chapter Three


"They're moving in line," Dacovetti says.  "Geographically."  He scribbles on a piece of paper that will go into a sealed burn box when the conversation is finished, then holds it up to the camera.  A poor but workable silhouette of the state of Florida is sketched with lots of little marks for deaths and survivors. "This is approximate, of course, but they started here on the panhandle, worked their way East, and then started south when they hit the Atlantic.  If they hold to the pattern, we should be able to form a reasonable hypothesis about who is next.  The good news is our nuclear anomaly is the farthest removed."

He taps his fingers on the desk. "If our actions did initiate this slaughter, that would mean our enemy wants to stop of us from acquiring something from these men or stop them from confirming something we already suspect."
Hannah Omdahl
player, 144 posts
CWO2, U.S. Army
dcoda
Mon 1 Feb 2016
at 07:24
  • msg #12

[IC] Chapter Three

Hannah saw that glance from Caradoc and smiled slightly, she was already nodding curtly to Mewes' announcement about the availability of the MH-60, "Thank you, Group Captain.  I'm much obliged."

It was a genuine, heartfelt acknowledgement that the army aviatrix appreciated the vote of confidence given by Mewes to her and the fact that the Group Captain had kept his promise that he made to her before she'd joined that he'd try to get her time on the Sikorsky frames to keep up her certifications.  Hannah knew that he didn't have to do it - this mission didn't seem to warrant air support.  Over the sovereign ground of the US, she'd have to think twice about swooping in on an armed Navy gunboat.

She tapped her fingers idly on the lacquered oaken table of the Washington DC Bureau's conference room that they'd been sequestered in.  The FBI helicopters had loaded them and their two motorcycles up before making the 400 mile return trip to the nation's capital.  She'd never gotten that type of VIP treatment before, it probably would have made her a bit wary - and was only mitigated by the fact that Double Down knew that the Lizard King was a g-man.  She figured that his touch might be in there somewhere.

The auburn-haired pilot seconded Painter's concern about suspect pattern of the causes of death, "The three and then three pattern is way too suspect."  The road trip with Grey Cell's medic had had the fortunate side-effect that Hannah had been able to brush up on her medical terms and techniques.  And had gotten a chance to know the way that the Irishman thought a bit better.

Double Down also agreed with Dealer's assessment, "We need to get to those survivors as quickly as possible."  She pursed her burgundy lips thin, until they were almost just a white line, "We need to know what they know."

"Choi." Hannah addressed Grey Cell's lone FBI gunman, "Can we expect that we should be able to hitch a fast ride down to Florida on an FBI flight at this point?  If so, we should be able to get to Canaveral in just about an hour or so..."
Sebastien Durand
player, 277 posts
DGSE
Dave Ross
Tue 2 Feb 2016
at 11:33
  • msg #13

[IC] Chapter Three

”If they stick to the pattern that Dealer has identified the next target would be the guy in Pembroke Pines, Albinson.” Durand muses, having pulled up a Google map of Florida on his laptop. ”We should get someone on him asap as a precaution, even if it’s just a case of local law enforcement sitting on him until some of our people can get on scene.” He shoots a glance to Kowalska. ”Local cops would need to have some idea of the capabilities of their opponents. Without going into detail of course. But it would not be right not to give them some sort of warning as to what they might be up against.”

The Frenchman looks over his notes again. ”It seems to me that they other potential red flags are the crypto guy and the nuc. Especially the nuc, Paddon, who apparently should not have been in that Squadron, so I think we need to talk to him first, try and find out what his story is. Afterwards perhaps we can speak to the crypto guy, Hawkins.”

He turns to Mewes. ”Like Hannah said, how quickly can the guys in the States get to Florida? Can the FBI provide a plane? As for Dancer and I, do we have to go into Canaveral? Most of the activity seems to be further south. Can you get us clearance to fly into Miami? Or a military base in that area? Also, can we get a back up location for the chopper further south?”
Tegyrius
GM, 491 posts
Tue 2 Feb 2016
at 13:02
  • msg #14

[IC] Chapter Three

"We can divert your flight to Homestead," Mewes tells Sébastien.  "It's an Air Force Reserve base south of Miami.  Once you're on the ground, you can stage out of there or the Coast Guard station in Miami.  Homestead will be more covert and offers better facilities for setting up the Cave.  The Coast Guard's site has better support for the Knighthawk and is closer to Miami proper."
This message was last edited by the GM at 13:02, Tue 02 Feb 2016.
Karolina Kowalska
player, 155 posts
Captain, GROM
Spartan-117
Tue 2 Feb 2016
at 21:27
  • msg #15

[IC] Chapter Three

"Homestead then," Lina said with a nod.  "Crad, Hannah, James, and Mike will proceed to Pembroke Pines.  If the FBI can't provide transportation, then by charter or commercial air.  Albinson is in a nursing home, so it may be worth while to get his medical records and identify any specialized care he might need during transport to Homestead or at an appropriate safe house."

"Seb and I will fly to Homestead and make our way to Key West to meet Paddon.  Once Amber is setup in Homestead, we'll hopefully converge there with our two protectees.  Hawkins lives in Homestead, so the first team back gets dibs on him.  No plan survives contact with the enemy, but if we make it that far, we'll move forward based on what we've learned," Kowalska said, looking down frequently at her notes regarding Florida geography.

"Does that sound viable?" Lina asked, looking up at the SDVC unit, then over to Mewes, Bannon, and Durand.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:28, Tue 02 Feb 2016.
Sebastien Durand
player, 280 posts
DGSE
Dave Ross
Wed 3 Feb 2016
at 10:30
  • msg #16

[IC] Chapter Three

Durand nods to Kowalska. ”Sounds like a plan to me.”
James Choi
player, 189 posts
Special Agt, FBI HRT
Raellus
Thu 4 Feb 2016
at 01:24
  • msg #17

[IC] Chapter Three


"I'll make a phone call about transportation but I can't promise anything so be prepared to scramble plan B. You guys want me to ask someone to look into the mystery squadron too?"

-
Tegyrius
GM, 495 posts
Fri 5 Feb 2016
at 03:17
  • msg #18

[IC] Chapter Three

Nininger State Veterans' Nursing Home
Pembroke Pines, Florida
09 June 2015
1312 hrs local (1812 hrs Zulu)

With his colleagues in tow, Special Agent James Choi strides into the blissfully air-conditioned lobby of Nininger State Veterans' Nursing Home.  The receptionist offers him a smile on the sunny side of professional - one which slumps only fractionally when he displays his FBI credentials.  It's a universal constant: introduce oneself as a federal agent and ordinary citizens develop hyperconscience, searching their memories for whatever they might have done to incur the federal government's wrath.  In the face of the things James has seen and done in the last few months, it's welcomingly prosaic.

The receptionist's face doesn't truly cool until James inquires into the whereabouts of Dana Albinson.  There's a wince behind eyes that go suddenly shuttered, and a diversion to higher authority.  She picks up her phone, speaks softly into it, her eyes flicking between James and his teammates.  "The charge nurse will be right out to speak to you," she finally says, replacing the handset.

It's a couple of minutes before an older woman in blue-green scrubs emerges from a door marked STAFF ONLY.  Her professional mask is more firmly in place.  "Special Agents," she says with a brusque nod, picking up the assumption that James slid onto the desk with his ambiguous introductions.  "I'm afraid Captain Albinson suffered a stroke about three hours ago.  He's in surgery at Mercy now."



Key West International Airport
Key West, Florida
09 June 2015
1825 hrs local (2325 hrs Zulu)

The Gulfstream comes to a halt on the ramp between a haze gray C-130 and a trio of orange-and-white T-6Bs.  The copilot - a taciturn blonde in contractor chic garb that barely masquerades as civilian attire - cracks the hatch and drops the stairs.  A wave of hot, humid air rolls in, heavy with the aromas of seashore and jet exhaust.

Karolina Kowalska and Sébastien Durand emerge into the late-afternoon sun, gratefully stretching their legs and backs after the eleven-hour endurance flight.  As soon as they've off-loaded their go-bags, the stairs retract and the jet begins rolling again.  It's bound for Miami to deliver Barbrak Tarabi, Marie Kohl, and four French air commandos.  The Amber Cell advance party will prepare another loaned hangar and helicopter for the rest of the support element's arrival the following morning.  At least, that's the plan.

A Chevrolet Malibu sedan in Official Motor Pool White and a dark green Ford Explorer are parked at the edge of the tarmac.  As the G650 taxis away, the cars roll slowly toward the agents.  They come to a stop a comfortable ten meters away and two men emerge.  The Chevy's driver is a soft-looking twenty-something in tailored business casual, with close-cropped red hair and a complexion that's probably pallid when it's not sunburnt.  The Explorer's pilot is ambiguously thirtyish and balding, wearing khaki hiking pants, a blasé expression, and a monochrome Hawaiian shirt bearing a photonegative image of palm trees bending in the wind of the Bikini Atoll nuclear test.

The younger man squints at the duo, then peers at the contents of a manila folder.  Apparently satisfied, he puts on a smile, steps forward, and extends a hand.  His grip isn't as limp as his appearance suggests.  "Captain Kowalska, Mister Durand?  Welcome to America.  I'm Lieutenant Spencer, NCIS.  This is Petty Officer Gutierrez."  Gutierrez contents himself with a noncommittal nod.  "Ah... Commander Vest with ONI arranged for us to meet you here and clear you through entry.  If I can see your passports, travel orders, and military IDs, I'll get that started."

He accepts the documents in question and retreats to the Chevy, where he busies himself with a laptop computer.  PO Gutierrez offers a faint smile but does not initiate conversation.  After about ten minutes, Spencer re-emerges and returns the agents' paperwork.  "All good."  He pauses and quirks his mouth.  "Um.  We're to assist you while you're in the Keys but I'm a bit hazy on the reason for your visit.  Commander Vest arranged a rental car for you," he gestures toward the Explorer, "and we're at your disposal if you need guides or on-base escorts.  Or I can recommend some restaurants...?"



Mercy Hospital
Miami, Florida
09 June 2015
1548 hrs local (2048 hrs Zulu)

The waiting room occupies the ambiguous time-space continuum common to all places of its sort, a location where there's nowhere to walk, all the magazines are from an alternate universe skewed four degrees off the familiar, and clocks reverse their motion when unobserved.  At length, a short, broad-shouldered physician inserts herself into the room.  "Agent Choi."  It's almost command voice, not the diffident inquiry which James half-expects.  She tilts her head toward the hall.

In the corridor, the air is thinner and cooler, the lights are brighter, and the doctor - her ID reads Monica Adessi, M.D. and Neurology - carries a thick cloak of fatigue.  "Agent," she begins, then blinks heavily.   "I'm able to report that the thrombectomy was successful.  Mostly.  We've removed the," there's a hitch in her speech, "clot and he's stable.  But there's likely to be significant long-term impairment.

"Now.  What's the FBI's interest in an eighty-two-year-old veteran?  And please don't tell me it's classified but you need me to wake him up so you can extract the vital clue to catch the terrorists," she adds dryly.



Map (not tactical): https://www.google.com/maps/d/...Z750&usp=sharing
This message was last edited by the GM at 13:41, Sat 06 Feb 2016.
Michael Dacovetti
player, 196 posts
Tech Sgt, JSOC JCU
keys138
Fri 5 Feb 2016
at 17:41
  • msg #19

[IC] Chapter Three

It's an interminable stay in waiting room hell, sanitized floors, the smell of bleach and Cavicide.  Not a locale that lends itself particularly easy to deep thinking and an electronic offense, but Dacovetti does his best. The airman has put himself in a corner, pulled a cushion off a chair to sit on the floor with, and is using the now barren body of the chair to support his laptop. All in all, he probably looks like quite the asshole building himself a little kingdom in a shared waiting room to work in, complete with empty coffee cups and at least two Power Bar wrappers stacked carefully to one side.

On the screen, sheltered from view from any nosy bystanders, is a feed of several of the entrances to the hospital and the parking garage.  His efforts to pierce the system that utilize the thermal cameras have been unsuccessful, but it's possible that those systems are isolated and used more for diagnostics than any actual security purpose.  Or at least, that what Crewe had mentioned.  Michael didn't stop to think about whether the medic had been trying to soothe his bruised ego or just plugging holes in his knowledge.  A little facial recognition software tuned for Attar or Charlie Sheen would go a long way here, he thinks.

Staring at monitor feeds is numbing, so he's trying to stay active, composing an encrypted email to Green Cell about the possibility of the Attar's tuning their devices to induce strokes from a distance and how that would work or possibly be detected, when the doctor comes into the room, and starts briefing the team.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:06, Fri 05 Feb 2016.
Hannah Omdahl
player, 145 posts
CWO2, U.S. Army
dcoda
Fri 5 Feb 2016
at 18:48
  • msg #20

[IC] Chapter Three

Hannah hung back, letting James do most of the talking.  After all, she didn't have anything but a military ID to flash.  It was nice that people assumed that she was FBI as well at this point; Double Down was hardly going to attempt to dissuade them of that assumption.

Her weight shifted slightly causing her leathers to creak softly.  She was still in her leather jacket (to be honest, she simply liked the cut, even if it did potentially restrict her choice of sidearm when actually zipped up), though she'd traded in the chaps for simple black denim jeans.  Her custom Oakley were conspicuously placed over her eyes to shade them as Hannah scanned about the hospital.  She glanced in the direction of the waiting room and then at her companions.  Apparently, there was little to do but wait.


When the operating surgeon appeared, Hannah pushed off of the wall where she been standing idly.  She capped the water bottle that she'd just taken a swig from and immediately stowed it back in her slingbag.  Once her pack was back over her shoulder, she approached along with the others to hear what the doctor had to say.

When the woman had proclaimed her prognosis, which Hannah had to admit didn't bode well for their investigation; no quite dead, but pretty close.  But then, the auburn-haired aviatrix quirked her head to side slightly.  Double Down pulled her Oakleys down a smidgen so that she might view the doctor over the top edge, deadpanning even, "What terrorists are you referring to, Doctor Adessi?"  She waited expectantly for the neurosurgeon to respond; if the doctor's remark had been made in jest, it wasn't a very good joke.  Perhaps the investigation really wasn't dead yet.
Sebastien Durand
player, 282 posts
DGSE
Dave Ross
Fri 5 Feb 2016
at 19:50
  • msg #21

[IC] Chapter Three

Flying commercial would never be the same again Durand had thought to himself as he descended the Gulfstream's stairs. The flight had definitely rated as one of the better ones that the Frenchman had taken. There had been time to catch up with Kowalska and Barfly as well as sharing some war stories - or at least the non classified parts - with the Air Commandos. There had even been a moment of light relief when the co pilot had come back into the cabin for some crew rest and one of the Commandos had tried to make a move on her. Well, it had been amusing for the rest of them, probably not so amusing for the amorous Commando when she had shot him down in flames, Durand readily joining in the barrage of good natured abuse in French that the unfortunate individual had had to endure after the blonde aviator had returned to the flight deck.

When Spencer returns their documentation and asks what their plans are Durand takes that as his cue, moves to the side, nods to Gutierrez. The Frenchman is casually dressed, wearing khaki cargo pants, a black shirt, sleeves rolled up, well worn tan desert boots. A pair of ray ban sunglasses are pushed up on top of his head, and a layer of stubble adorns his chin.

"Good to meet you Chief. I'm Seb. E6 in the French Marines in a past life." It's an attempt to define nascent relationships, leaving Kapitan Kowalska to make her manners with Spencer, officer to officer, whilst Durand plays the former Naval Service enlisted card to try and find common ground with Gutierrez. "Nice shirt." he remarks with a grin before switching to business, although his tone remains light, casual. "So, much going on for you guys around here?"
Tegyrius
GM, 498 posts
Fri 5 Feb 2016
at 20:53
  • msg #22

[IC] Chapter Three

Adessi tilts her head and squints at Hannah.  "Whatever terrorists you're hunting, young lady," she says, ignoring the fact that the pilot is no more than five years her junior.  "Isn't that how this script usually plays out?  Federal agents don't tend to show up while the critical witness is in surgery unless they're on a time-critical hunt for a nuclear device or a drum of methyl-ethyl-death."
Michael Dacovetti
player, 197 posts
Tech Sgt, JSOC JCU
keys138
Fri 5 Feb 2016
at 22:21
  • msg #23

[IC] Chapter Three

Long term exposure to confident professionals blowing smoke due to frustration has rendered Michael Dacovetti immune, or simply unaware due to refusal to process, statements such as those the doctor just made.  "Doctor, you paused for a moment before discussing the clot.  Was there anything unusual about the stroke?"
Karolina Kowalska
player, 156 posts
Captain, GROM
Spartan-117
Fri 5 Feb 2016
at 23:34
  • msg #24

[IC] Chapter Three

In reply to Tegyrius (msg # 18):

Karolina gave Barfight and the others a nod before she stepped out of the G650, luggage and daypack in tow.  Florida was hot, but not as hot as it would be later into June and into the summer.  Still, the heavy humid air took a moment to adjust to.  Fortunately Lina had prepared as best as time would allow.  She was clad in light weight khaki cargo pants, a light blue wicking polo, and black trainers.  She wore a blue CamelBak pack in a shade of niebieski that almost matched the nearby water.  A small black waist pack kept her essentials in easy reach.  Lina looked a little too sporty to be a typical American tourist, but she could pass for an action sports enthusiast, taking a day between diving and wing suit flying.

”Pleased to meet you Lieutenant, Petty Officer,” Lina said, introducing herself to the NCIS Officer and his NCO.  She produced her documents as requested, grateful that they would avoid customs formalities thanks to Vest’s intercession.  When the Lieutenant returned with the green light, Lina nodded and thanked him.

”Lieutenant, Commander Vest may not have told you, but Mr. Durand and I are here to interview retired and former members of a Air Development Squadron One, a US Navy test squadron that, among other things, tested and developed anti-submarine warfare capabilities.  I’m sure you are aware that with the events in the Ukraine, relations between NATO and the Russian Federation have significantly deteriorated.  Russian submarine activity is set to top Cold War levels this year.  Our Task Force is conducting interviews with Air Development Squadron One members to ensure that our files on their activities are complete.  As you can imagine, many of these service members are older, and we want to ensure our records are correct before they… how can I put this delicately… pass on,” Lina paused for a second, then continued.

”You’ll recall the FOGBANK issue from a few years back, where Oak Ridge lost the ability to make the interstage material for US nuclear warheads due to insufficient documentation and the retirement of nearly all staff members who had expertise in its production?  NATO wants to make sure that doesn’t happen to our anti-submarine warfare tactics, techniques, doctrine, and procedures.  Especially given the re-emerging threat.”  Lina didn’t know if Spencer would have any clue what FOGBANK was, but it didn’t really matter.  At the very least, it was the kind of thing the Navy LT could Google and then feel better about the role he was about to play in today’s activities.

”What we need from you is act as counter-surveillance while we meet and interview a member of ADS-One today.  I believe the NCIS mission is to investigate and defeat criminal, terrorist, and foreign intelligence threats to the United States Navy and Marine Corp, yes?  It’s the later that NATO is concerned about; the Foreign Intelligence threat.  That Lieutenant, is the reason Commander Vest in the Office of Naval Intelligence asked you to accompany us,” Lina said matter of factly.

”Personally I don’t anticipate any problems, but we are very grateful for your assistance,” Lina said, shifting from officer briefing voice to a more genuine tone.  ”After we are done, I’d love to know what restaurants you’d recommend.”  Kowalska wasn’t flirting, but she her demeanor had certainly shifted toward friendly.

Lina secured his black duffle in the back of the Ford Explorer as Spenser chewed on the information he had been provided.

”Here is the address we have on file for our first interviewee,” Lina said, returning to business after stowing her gear.  Poles being Poles, she transposed two numbers in the address she gave them however, as she was convinced that grand conspires were alway afoot and that few people could truly be trusted.  Lina did a quick comms correlation, getting Spencer and his partner's cell and radio information.  She asked Spencer and Gutierrez to follow behind them en route to the first location, as if they were tailing a suspect, and to pass them and pull up a full block ahead after she and Seb stopped outside of the house.  From there they should pull counter-surveillance, and alert Lina and Seb if they noticed anything suspicious.  If they followed these directions, they would end up at the correct location, even with the transposed numbers.
This message was last edited by the player at 06:10, Sat 06 Feb 2016.
James Choi
player, 191 posts
Special Agt, FBI HRT
Raellus
Sat 6 Feb 2016
at 01:02
  • msg #25

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Tegyrius:
"I'm afraid Captain Albinson suffered a stroke about three hours ago.  He's in surgery at Mercy now."


The news takes the wind right out of James' proverbial sails. This is statistically impossible, he thinks, in what barely qualifies as hyperbole. Foul play, absolutely no doubt.

"Tell us more about this stroke. Where was Captain Albinson and what was he doing when it happened?"

He holds up his hand to preempt the solicited response. "Those things working?" he asks, pointing to an antiquated video camera mounted in the junction near the nurses station. It looked at least 15 years old, definitely not digital. "We'll need to see the tapes, of course."


James waits for Dr. Sassy's response to his colleague's querry, then follows up one of his own. "I know that it's still probably too soon to say, but what type of impairment are you anticipating, Doctor?"

-
This message was last edited by the player at 02:09, Sat 06 Feb 2016.
Sebastien Durand
player, 283 posts
DGSE
Dave Ross
Sat 6 Feb 2016
at 11:54
  • msg #26

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

"I'll drive" Durand says to Kowalska after he has placed his own gear in the Ford. Amongst the various bags placed in the back of the vehicle are two matching hardshell black cases, of the sort that would be familiar to road warriors in Europe of North America. The contents of the cases would be less familiar to the average corporate executive however, for inside each case a sits a submachine gun together with ammunition and various peripherals, all snugly cushioned in foam.

Once he's in the vehicle and the doors are closed the Frenchman reaches over into a duffle bag in the seat behind him, extracts a Glock 21 pistol in a kydex holster, attaching it to his belt then adjusting his shirt, already worn outside his trousers anyway, so that it conceals the pistol.

"Americans and their automatics." he mutters with a faint tut of Gallic disapproval as he looks over the Explorer, familiarising himself with it, tinkering with the air conditioning before he looks over at the Pole. "We all set?" Assuming they are good to go he puts the SUV into drive, sets off towards the address that they have been given. Other than their new friends from NCIS he's not expecting any sort of a tail, but he checks his mirrors every now and then for anyway as a matter of course.
Karolina Kowalska
player, 157 posts
Captain, GROM
Spartan-117
Sat 6 Feb 2016
at 14:15
  • msg #27

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Sebastien Durand:
"Americans and their automatics." he mutters with a faint tut of Gallic disapproval as he looks over the Explorer, familiarising himself with it, tinkering with the air conditioning before he looks over at the Pole.


"It's so they can hold the steering wheel in one hand and their McDonalds in the other," Lina says without a trace of sarcasm.  She had been told such things growing up in Communist Poland and unlike much of the disinformation and propaganda of the times, she had no reason to doubt this particular 'fact'.

Sebastien Durand:
"We all set?" Assuming they are good to go he puts the SUV into drive, sets off towards the address that they have been given. Other than their new friends from NCIS he's not expecting any sort of a tail, but he checks his mirrors every now and then for anyway as a matter of course.


"Ready if you are," Kowalska said, pulling our her tablet from the daypack.  She typed out a few quick messages, letting HQ, Vest, Amber, and the other Grey Cell members know that she and Sebastian were on the ground, had made contact with the NCIS team, and were now en route to the address they had for Paddon.  She pulled up a nearby address on Google maps and panned over to their target location, giving the terrain and urban features a quick once over.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:16, Sat 06 Feb 2016.
Tegyrius
GM, 502 posts
Sat 6 Feb 2016
at 15:08
  • msg #28

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Homestead, 1348 hrs local:

"Give me just a moment, please."  The charge nurse steps behind the reception desk and flips pages on a clipboard.  "We serve breakfast in the 'mess deck' at 0800."  Her airquotes are evident despite her hands' preoccupation with the clipboard, as is her slight emphasis on the "zero" in the military time.  "Captain Albinson ate, and there's no note that he was off his routine.  He's not listed as being on any activity rosters today, so he most likely returned to his room after that.  The 0930 bed check has him listed as there - he was mobile and reading.  At 1022, one of his neighbors, Staff Sergeant Fischer, hit the call button and reported hearing Captain Albinson cry out and fall."  She looks up.  "From there, it's pretty much SOP.  The floor nurse found the captain unconscious between his chair and his bed, observed stroke-like symptoms, and issued the alert.  The ambulance arrived at 1034, packaged him, and transported him to Mercy."

At James' polite/professional insistence, several other members of the facility staff corroborate the official account.  The only other details of note are fragments of Albinson's medical history, teased out by leading statements.  The captain has leukemia, which first manifested in 2008 and has been in remission for about a year.  He's also being observed for possible early-stage Parkinson's.

Staff Sergeant Fischer has a couple more items to add.  "I heard him say 'who the fuck?' right before he fell," he rasps.  He rolls his head toward Hannah and grins widely.  "Pardon my language, miss, but it's inoperable at this stage.  Anyway.  I heard that, then a couple of meaty thumps and about thirty seconds of flailing.  He was makin' some muffled noises through all that, and I heard him hit the floor."

He squints at Hannah.  "Somethin' familiar about you, miss.  You related to him?  Granddaughter?"



Key West, 1901 hrs local:

Gutierrez cracks an expression that's probably as close as his perpetual weightlifter's scowl can get to a smile.  "Thanks, Seb.  It gives the brass fits but the pattern helps keep the gun from printing."  He glances over at Lieutenant Spencer and Karolina.  "This ain't a bad station.  About the worst we usually get is na-val a-vi-a-tors," he drawls the job title out into an epithet, "getting themselves in trouble when they're on TAD down here.  And the occasional false alarm about Cuban espionage, but they're our friends now, ya know?"  His face crinkles into what's probably his best attempt at a cynical smile shared between NCO insiders.

A few meters away, Spencer nods at Karolina's explanation.  "Thank you for the brief, ma'am.  I'm afraid this was a snap-kick tasking.  All the commander told me was to expect visiting NATO, ah, officers," the pause is probably a mental substitution for "spies," "and to make sure you got around town all right."  His expression is a guileless placidity that's either well-practiced or sadly genuine.

With a quick shuffle of bags and precautions, the small convoy is in motion.  Paddon's residence is about 30 minutes from the base, a quick hop down US Highway 1 to the island of Key West proper.  No surveillance or tail is in evidence during the trip.

Stump Lane is a narrow one-way, one-land street, shaded on the left by a three-story wall of tropical vegetation growing over a row of whitewashed backyard fences.  On-street parking, aggressively marked RESIDENTIAL ONLY, takes up the right side of the pavement.  Paddon's home is typical for the block, a two-story white structure with dark blue shutters and a narrow red brick sidewalk.

Karolina's phone buzzes once: a text from Spencer indicates that the NCIS team is in position at the White Street end of the lane.  Sébastien eases the Explorer into one of the two spaces in front of the house, behind a canary-yellow Triumph TR4.

The two agents exit the rental vehicle and mount the three steps to the low porch.  An immense black cat with white tuxedo markings abandons its stalk of an anole to vault atop a tattered wicker couch.  It stares wide-eyed at the agents before emitting a friendly chirrup.

A plaque affixed beside the front door reads Marmell Consulting, LLC • Appointment Only, though this is the address on file for Paddon.  Glancing around the front of the house, Sébastien detects a faint sheen to the windows, indicating that they're equipped with anti-hurricane - or anti-burglar - film.  The small boxes of intrusion sensors are affixed to each frame, and a discreet security camera is angled to catch not only the door but most of the blind spots.



Miami, 1551 hrs local:

Doctor Adessi narrows her eyes and bobs her head once, sharply, to Michael's question.  "Yes.  There was."  She glances down the corridor.  "This is not the sort of conversation we should have in the hall."

With that, she turns and strides away, clearly assuming the presumptive FBI agents are following her without further questions.  After two turns, the group arrives at a small conference room.  Adessi flicks her hands in a be seated gesture and plops herself into a chair.

"In response to your question, Agent Choi, the stroke was on the brain's right hemisphere.  I expect significant paralysis to Mister Albinson's left side, including - if he regains consciousness - speech impairment.  All of this will require extensive therapy to overcome.  He'll also suffer diminished vision.  There may be loss of short-term memory.  Behaviorally, he'll be emotionally labile and easily distracted."

She pivots to face Michael.  "There were complications during the thrombectomy.  The clot was," she pauses, frowning in frustration, "aggressively lodged.  There was some tearing of blood vessels during removal which exacerbated the primary effects.  When extracted, the clot contained a," she almost spits the next words, "foreign body around which the clot material had accreted.  I've sent it to the pathology lab for analysis."
Sebastien Durand
player, 285 posts
DGSE
Dave Ross
Sat 6 Feb 2016
at 18:38
  • msg #29

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

"Bonjour monsieur le chat." Turning away from the cat, Durand speaks softly to Kowalska as the two of them step on to the porch. "We're on camera. Whoever fitted it looks like they knew what they were doing. And the windows have anti burglar film and intrusion sensors. It looks like this guy takes his home security seriously. Maybe a little too seriously for an average senior citizen?" The Frenchman nods towards the door. "After you."
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 18:39, Sat 06 Feb 2016.
Michael Dacovetti
player, 200 posts
Tech Sgt, JSOC JCU
keys138
Sun 7 Feb 2016
at 01:34
  • msg #30

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


After packing up his makeshift work station, Dacovetti tosses his trash away and follows the doctor and the others to the conference room, happy to take a seat in an actual seat, not the poor imitation of the form that was occupying space in the waiting room.

"Would you please let your pathology lab know that I will be down there in a few minutes to observe what they have," Michael returns to the doctor, making sure to highlight the observe part of the statement.  Without a warrant, they probably won't be walking out of here with the sample, but he wants to know what it is.  The medical talk is going to be over his head anyway.  "And then point me in the direction of pathology," he adds.
Karolina Kowalska
player, 158 posts
Captain, GROM
Spartan-117
Sun 7 Feb 2016
at 10:05
  • msg #31

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Sebastien Durand:
"Bonjour monsieur le chat." Turning away from the cat, Durand speaks softly to Kowalska as the two of them step on to the porch. "We're on camera. Whoever fitted it looks like they knew what they were doing. And the windows have anti burglar film and intrusion sensors. It looks like this guy takes his home security seriously. Maybe a little too seriously for an average senior citizen?" The Frenchman nods towards the door. "After you."


Lina nods slightly as they march up the steps.  "It's not paranoia if they are really out to get you," she said as he raised her left arm to knock.  She mentally pictured an old man with an oxygen tank and a shotgun sitting on a couch on the other side of the door.  Lina instinctively did a half-side step to the right, putting most of her body behind the door frame, as she rapped thrice on the door.
Tegyrius
GM, 505 posts
Sun 7 Feb 2016
at 13:33
  • msg #32

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Key West, 1902 hrs local:

The cat considers Karolina for a moment before hopping down from the couch and rubbing against Sébastien's leg, purring happily.

After a delay of perhaps twenty seconds, a cleverly-concealed outdoor speaker - it's in a potted plant on the far side of the couch - crackles with an elderly male voice.  "Honey, I see you're all posted up there.  I'd appreciate if you'd just hold on a minute before kicking the door.  I'm on the way but I ain't as fast as I used to be."

The agents hear slowly-approaching footsteps, then the sound of two deadbolts being drawn back.  The door opens to reveal a wiry, gnomish figure clad in cut-off BDU shorts and an oil-stained gray t-shirt.  His frame, never tall to begin with, is stooped with age, putting his bald head several inches below Karolina's.  A pair of glasses with side eye-shields dangles from a strap around his neck.  Both agents note that his right hand is out of sight behind the doorframe.

He looks down at the cat's attention to Sébastien's leg for several seconds before transferring his gaze to Karolina.  "Everyone looks young to me these days but I think you're too old to be sellin' Girl Scout cookies.  What can I do for ya, ma'am?"
Karolina Kowalska
player, 160 posts
Captain, GROM
Spartan-117
Sun 7 Feb 2016
at 14:00
  • msg #33

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

"Sorry to disturb you," Lina said, keeping her hands visible as she spoke.  "We are looking for retired Senior Chief Petty Officer Robert Paddon.  We are part of a NATO Task Force that very much needs his assistance."  Karolina hoped that she was speaking with Paddon, but on the off chance she wasn't, there she thought it best not to provide too many details here at the doorway.

"We certainly understand if you'd like to see our IDs," Kowalska added, though she kept her hands still and in plain sight.
Caradoc Crewe
NPC, 36 posts
Corporal, 21st SAS
Mon 8 Feb 2016
at 22:49
  • msg #34

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Under the table, Caradoc bumps Michael's knee and nods emphatically when the airman glances at him.  He's keeping his mouth shut lest his accent dispel the assumption that all four of the quartet are FBI agents, but he's practically vibrating with his interest in the "foreign body."
Tegyrius
GM, 507 posts
Mon 8 Feb 2016
at 23:03
  • msg #35

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Key West, 1913 hrs local:

The man scrutinizes Karolina for a few seconds, then looks down at the cat again.  "Well," he says, "Ricky, if you've got no gripes?"

The cat yowls emphatically and abandons Sébastien's leg to twine around the man's ankles.  "Robert Paddon at your service," the man states.  "If you don't mind, I'll need to see those iDs now."  He slips on his reading glasses, then collects the offered ID folders in his left hand, still keeping his right behind the door.  It's not just a pro forma sweep without seeing - he actually checks the photos, glancing up at the agents' faces.  "Have a seat," he says, indicating the wicker couch.  "It's a nice evening.  I'll be right out."

Paddon disappears into the house and the deadbolts engage again.  There's a wait just long enough to leave the agents listening for a door closing or a car starting before he reappears.  "Sorry about that," he says without a hint of apology in his voice.  "I needed to make a phone call.  You checked out faster than usual.  Come on in."

Inside, the house is cool and dry, smelling faintly of metal, oil, and solvent.  Ricky darts through the door at the last moment and hunkers down over a food bowl in the kitchen, purring thunderously.  Paddon follows the cat at his own pace and opens the refrigerator, extracting a glass pitcher full of a faintly green substance.  "Limeade?" he asks, pouring himself a tall glass.  He settles into one of the four chairs around the small table.  "So what does a counter-terrorism task force need with a retarded CPO?" he asks.
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:04, Mon 08 Feb 2016.
Hannah Omdahl
player, 146 posts
CWO2, U.S. Army
dcoda
Tue 9 Feb 2016
at 05:51
  • msg #36

[IC] Chapter Three

Homestead, 1348 hrs local:

A look of momentary confusion crossed Double Down's features, when she was tagged as Albinson's relative, but it was almost immediately as quashed as turned to face Staff Sergeant Fischer.  "Wh..." she started, "Why that is pretty amazing...  Is it the eyes that gave me away?"  She pushed up her oakleys onto the crown of her head, though from what she could remember of the photos of the Captain, she looked nothing like him.

The auburn-haired pilot simply dismissed any apologies for foul language, extending a hand in greeting and introducing herself, "I'm Hannah."  She smiled gently and prompted the elderly gentleman, "And it is a pleasure and an honour to meet you..."  Double Down seemed more than willing to chat with Fischer for as long as the man was interested.  Ever since the encounter in Australia, Hannah had become acutely aware that there was more to a lot of things than met the eye.

Plus, she'd love to know more about whether the Staff Sergeant saw who might have been with the Captain when he had his stroke.  It sure sounded like Fischer knew more than he was telling anyone.


Miami, 1551 hrs local:

Hannah took a seat when prompted and leaned back to hear Doctor Adessi's story.  Her brow furrowed slightly, as she looked thoughtful for a moment and leaned forward.  "I am sorry, Doctor," the auburn-haired aviatrix prompted Adessi, looking for expert clarification as she played the layman, "But what do you mean by 'aggressive'?  Was it irregularly shaped and that is why it was so difficult to operate on?"

She knew that the next order of business was to actually see the clot and the 'foreign body', but it struck her that the neurosurgeon wasn't telling them something important.  But also, that she wanted to.
Karolina Kowalska
player, 163 posts
Captain, GROM
Spartan-117
Tue 9 Feb 2016
at 10:04
  • msg #37

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Tegyrius:
Inside, the house is cool and dry, smelling faintly of metal, oil, and solvent.  Ricky darts through the door at the last moment and hunkers down over a food bowl in the kitchen, purring thunderously.  Paddon follows the cat at his own pace and opens the refrigerator, extracting a glass pitcher full of a faintly green substance.  "Limeade?" he asks, pouring himself a tall glass.  He settles into one of the four chairs around the small table.  "So what does a counter-terrorism task force need with a retarded CPO?" he asks.


”No thank you,” Lina said, politely declining the offer of limeade.  Had she realized that Key limes differed from more common Persian lime she was familiar with, she might have accepted.  Kowalska had other things on her mind that than local citrus fruits however.

”I’m not sure if you are aware, but George Frye was murdered a few weeks ago outside of a Miami law office.  The suspect is a high value target for our Task Force,” Lina said.  She watched Paddon to gauge his reaction.  She didn’t expect that he would be surprised to learn of the killing, given Paddon's extensive personal security practices.

”Admiral Frye’s death came to our attention after our Intel Chief was contacted following the death of Floyd Waters.  Captain Water’s personal effects contained a file showing that he was assigned to Observation Squadron Fifty-Four.  Through subsequent research and analysis, we located the records of fourteen other veterans assigned to Squadron Fifty-Four, including you.” Again Lina studied Paddon’s face for any micro expressions, this time associated with Squadron Fifty Four.

”Of the fourteen members we’ve identified, nine have been killed in the last two months," Lina paused for a second, then added, "There is a pattern.”

Karolina motioned to the daypack she had placed at her feet.  ”If you will permit me,  I’d like to retrieve my tablet to show you what we have found.” Despite Paddon’s ‘retarded CPO’ deflection, Lina knew enough about the US Navy’s Nuclear propulsion program, both what it took to get in and what it took to stay in, to realize that this retired Navy Chief was likely the smartest person in the room right now.  It would be useful for him to see the raw data on the unit members, their locations, and cause of death.

”One of my team spotted a geographical pattern, right to left here, and then starting down from here,” Lina said, showing Paddon a map of Florida, with details on the deceased Fifty-Four members, from Ormond to Stephanidis.  None of the living unit members however, appeared on the map.  Lina had memorized the names and locations of those members, including Paddon.  OPSEC in case the tablet was ever compromised.

”We are very interested in stopping the next attack.  My unit deals with terrorism in many forms Mr. Paddon; domestic, trans-national, other.”  Kowalska paused to let the Chief’s mind chew on a concept of terrorism that might fit the last category.

”What can you tell us about Squadron Fifty-Four that might help us?” she asked.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:08, Tue 09 Feb 2016.
Sebastien Durand
player, 286 posts
DGSE
Dave Ross
Tue 9 Feb 2016
at 20:41
  • msg #38

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

"Sure, I'll have a limeade, thanks Chief." Durand grins, his French accent purposely turned up a notch as he takes a seat at the table, nodding appreciatively as Paddon passes him a glass. The Frenchman then sits back, crossing one leg over the other, his demeanour relaxed, sipping the limeade as Kowalska starts asking her questions.

Whilst the Polish Captain is talking the DGSE operator concentrates on watching the Chief, trying to observe the older man's body language, watching to see if he can see any visible reaction to Dancer's line of questioning, at one point his left hand slipping of the arm of the chair, rubbing his thumb and forefinger together to try and attract Ricky. It's a calculated move; if the man sees that his cat is comfortable around his guests it may make him more relaxed.

When there's a break in the conversation Durand will shift forward slightly, place his glass down on the table. "So what did you do after you left the Navy, Chief? I saw the sign outside that said 'Marmell Consultancy. Do you mind telling me what you consult in?" He offers the senior citizen another grin, ine that is almost apologetic. "Sorry, it's just that the more you can tell us the more it helps us. We are pretty sure that your Squadron mates did not die of natural causes, and whoever is doing this we want to catch them before anyone else gets hurt."
James Choi
player, 195 posts
Special Agt, FBI HRT
Raellus
Wed 10 Feb 2016
at 04:52
  • msg #39

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


"This may sound odd, Doctor, but did you find anything that could be classified as an entry wound in the patient's head or neck region?"

James almost didn't ask. Considering the patient's age and the symptoms he was displaying when admitted, chances were better than good that the ER staff didn't think to look. It wouldn't have shown up on any of the X-rays either.

-
Tegyrius
GM, 512 posts
Fri 12 Feb 2016
at 21:39
  • msg #40

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Key West, 1915 hrs local:

Despite his well-practiced poker face, Paddon twitches just a bit at the mention of Frye.  "I read about the admiral in the paper," he says noncommittally.  "Damn shame."  He leans forward and takes Karolina's tablet, adjusting his reading glasses.  "Shit.  Connie's wife emailed me and I went to the service.  I hadn't heard about the others.  Except Paul, I guess.  I saw the story about this but the victim wasn't identified."

He hands the tablet back to Karolina, scowling.  "Yeah, it's a sequence, and I see where they're headed.  Thanks for the warning, Captain.  I'm pretty well hardened here and I can call in a few favors."

He sits back and considers Karolina, then shifts his gaze to Sébastien just as Ricky abandons his repast for the Frenchman's lap.  His frown softens slightly.  "No shit, there we were... okay.  The squadron's a sensitive subject.  A lot of it's still classified.  We were a test and evaluation unit for experimental aircraft.  Ever hear of ANP - Aircraft Nuclear Propulsion?  The Air Force ran that program at about the same time.  They wanted a strategic bomber powered by a nuclear reactor.  Their testbed was what they called the NB-36.  The Navy was interested in the same concept for maritime patrol and ASW work, high-endurance aviation."  He stares into the distance.  "This was before they put reactors in surface ships, so us bubbleheads were the Navy's only real source for personnel.  That's how I got involved."

It's a good story, and from what the agents know of the American history with nuclear power, it all hangs together.  But it's definitely rehearsed. 

Paddon continues, focusing on Sébastien.  "After I got out of the Navy, I went to work for Westinghouse, doing pretty much the same thing.  I retired from that in ninety-two and my wife and I moved down here.  The consulting firm was in her name - it's easier to get some government contracts if you're a woman-owned business."  He chuckles.  "I still get up to Turkey Point once or twice a year but mostly I screw around in my shop.  Probably half the boats around here have some part I ran up for a mechanic."

He looks back toward Karolina.  "The consulting is why I have all the security.  That, and the assholes from Homeland Security who came around after Nine-Eleven.  They were here to 'advise' me about terrorists but they acted like I was the security risk for daring to live this long with 'classified information' inside my head."  He snorts.  "But it gave me an excuse to put in about twenty grand of hurricane hardening and charge it as a business expense, along with the alarm system."

"Tell you the truth, most of the squadron's died of cancer already.  I'd be surprised if there are many of us left beside the - fourteen, you said? - you'd found through the VA.  All of us probably had a healthy glow..."



Miami, 1606 hrs local:

Doctor Adessi turns to Hannah.  "The clot was abnormally adhered to the walls of the blood vessel, not just lodged at a narrow point."  She refocuses on Michael.  "I'll walk you to Pathology.  You won't be able to get in without badge access."  She flips her own ID lanyard for emphasis.

She's beginning to stand when James drops his question onto the table.  She pauses.  Blinks.  Slowly turns to him.  "I did not.  But that is not something I would have been looking for."  Her head tilts in what's clearly her version of Michael's "processing new, unexpected inputs" mannerisms.  "Are you suggesting this stroke was somehow deliberately induced with the... introduction of the foreign mass we found?"  She tilts her head toward the door.  "Come on."

The pathology lab is tucked far away from the parts of the hospital normally shown to visitors.  Adessi swipes her badge across an RFID reader and ushers the agents through two sets of doors.  A trio of technicians looks up from a workstation in unison.  "Hey, Monica, I was just about to text you.  This is really uhhh," trails off one as he sees the visitors.

"Yeah.  We're here about that."  Adessi gestures to the agents.  "FBI.  They're here because of Albinson.  What do you have?"

"Beats the hell out of me."  The tech adjusts his glasses and flashes a crooked grin.  "Which is not what you want to hear in this room, right?  But this is really weird."  He gestures to the screen, then steps back as Adessi moves in.

The image takes a moment to process before the horizontal and vertical scale bars along the side of the window give it context.  "Right, that's your blood clot," Caradoc murmurs, his accent drawing a sharp glance from Adessi.  "Platelets, fibrin - that's your proteins that web them together.  And that is your 'foreign body,' yeh?"

The object in question is slightly less than half a millimeter in width, shaped like a roughly hexagonal bowl made of hundreds of burnished bronze rice grains.  Chains of the rice grains extend from each vertex, with clumps of tissue and blood clot visible at their tips - presumably the anchors which kept the clot so "aggressively" lodged.
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:45, Fri 12 Feb 2016.
Michael Dacovetti
player, 202 posts
Tech Sgt, JSOC JCU
keys138
Sat 13 Feb 2016
at 20:33
  • msg #41

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

"Doctor, I would venture to say that your earlier question about inducing a stroke has definitively been answered." Dacovetti looks up from the monitor and tries to run a personality diagnostic on the technicians and the doctor.  "Is this everyone who has seen this object?" he asks as a follow up. "We need to secure the door.  No one else in or out."

The airman's eyes return to the screen and another series of questions almost erupt from his mouth before he remembers the limits of his own powers of coercion.  Despite years of service as a non-commissioned officer in the US Air Force, the TACP has spent most of those years in a rather solitary specialty.  As a consequence, he occasionally has trouble commanding puppies to sit, let alone medical professionals to comply with his orders.  This means he will have to apply an offensive strategy utilizing a judicious amount of polite words like "please," and "thank you."

"If I could impose, I have a series of questions about this object.  Let's skip the preliminary 'have you ever seen something like this before', because the answer for all of us is obviously 'no." He takes a breath and offers a smile.  "This may not be in your wheelhouse, but this kind of thing is in ours, so let's please work together and figure this out, because we are not pathologists."

The object has the designed look and color of several other objects of Attar origin that the team has recovered, but he can't say for certain. "Right now, I need to know three things.  Is there any evidence of how this object was introduced into Mr. Albinson's body?  What is the thing made of?  And finally, we need to figure out a way to determine if this object is transmitting a signal.  Please let me know how I can help you.  Thank you."
Sebastien Durand
player, 289 posts
DGSE
Dave Ross
Sun 14 Feb 2016
at 15:28
  • msg #42

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

The story about nuclear powered aircraft sounds plausible enough, but there's something about it that does not sit well with Durand, makes him think that Paddon is not telling them the whole story. It's the Chief's revelation that other members of the Squadron have died of cancer that cause the Frenchman to shoot a brief but quizzical glance at Kowalska before he shifts his attention back to Paddon as the man's cat makes itself comfortable in his lap.

"Chief, the Captain and I both have experience with the group that we suspect are behind these killings. With all due respect your security may not protect you against these...people." Picking up from Dancer's earlier cue, the pause between words at the end of his sentence is quite intentional. "We could arrange for some additional protection. Maybe get you some accommodation on base at Key West, for you and your family. And Ricky of course." The Frenchman grins as he strokes the cat behind the ears. "Just in the short term, until we have dealt with the threat. These bastards aren't fucking around Chief. You are in real danger. If you'll excuse my French."
Karolina Kowalska
player, 166 posts
Captain, GROM
Spartan-117
Mon 15 Feb 2016
at 19:35
  • msg #43

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Lina took the tablet back, but didn't put it away.  As Sebastian spoke, she opened up the video player and queued up the TUNGSTEN MEMENTO videos.  As if to accentuate Durand's point, she once again presented the tablet.  The map of Florida was replaced by the still picture of an Attar holding an AKS-74U.  Lina pressed play as Paddon looked on.  When the Saudi 2007 video ended, the Kunduz video started.

"And finally we have Sebastien's handy work in Libya," Lina said as she started the third installment.  It was Dacovetti's cellphone video from Tripoli.  Lina couldn't help but smile as the Attar's skull off-gassed and even though she knew Seb had suffered for his close range coup-de-grace, it was satisfying none the less.

"Please let us protect you Mr. Paddon," was all Kowalska said as the three videos ended.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:36, Mon 15 Feb 2016.
Tegyrius
GM, 515 posts
Wed 17 Feb 2016
at 00:51
  • msg #44

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Key West, 1929 hrs local:

Paddon grunts with mild interest and takes the tablet.  His eyebrows go up at the knifework in the Saudi prison.  They stay up as the Kunduz assault plays out.  When Sébastien and Michael's encounter in Libya comes up, they attempt to crawl up his forehead.  He runs the third video back to the dissolution, pausing it a few times to pinch and zoom.

At last, he grunts again and hands the tablet back to Karolina.  "So that's what they look like," he says.

He sighs and turns to Sébastien.  "This isn't a conversation we should have here.  If we're not on a clock, I'd appreciate you waiting around an hour while I secure my workshop and pack a bag." 

He pushes back from the table, preparing to stand, then pauses.  "Are you pulling in the rest of the squadron?"



Miami, 1608 hrs local:

An awkward silence falls in the room after Michael's rapid-fire delivery of questions.  The lab tech swallows hard and scratches his jaw.  "Erm.  Well, it's definitely not metallic or it would've shown up on the MRI.  I guess we can try--"

The other tech interrupts angrily, holding up her hands.  "Whoa!  Rewind that.  What do you mean 'secure the door, no one out?'"  She looks at Doctor Adessi for support.  "Monica, what is this crap?"

Adessi's nostrils flare and she steps up to Michael.  "That's an excellent question, Mister Dacovetti.  You're not locking down this lab without a great deal more justification.  That's not just me, that's hospital protocol.  This facility can't be taken offline arbitrarily.  And if that, that... item was deliberately introduced into the patient, as you suggested," she rounds on James, "then this looks a great deal like an attempted homicide, which requires me to notify Miami-Dade PD.  Unless you're suggesting we're being detained under some highly implausible justification?"
James Choi
player, 197 posts
Special Agt, FBI HRT
Raellus
Wed 17 Feb 2016
at 01:22
  • msg #45

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


James adopts the firm, authoritative tone that Quantico teaches on day one,

"Let's not jump the gun here, doctor. Whether or not that object was deliberately introduced into Mr. 's brain has yet to be determined. That's why I asked about possible entry wounds earlier. Ruling that out should be our first priority. If and when local law enforcement needs to be informed, I'll handle it. This is a federal investigation and that's my purview. If you need to see a federal warrant before you cooperate, that can easily be arranged. Until that time, that tiny 'foreign body' is potential evidence in what might very soon become a federal homicide investigation, and there's a chain of custody to secure and maintain. But I think it would be in the best interest of you and this hospital to help instead of hinder this investigation. Let's be frank, doctor, if this is an attempted homicide we're looking at here, you missed it."

James pauses to let the ramifications sink in. He resumes in a more conciliatory tone,

"None of us," James gestures to his associates, "have the necessary medical expertise to make that determination. You do. We need your help doctor. I'm asking for your cooperation."

The ball is in Adessi's court.

-
This message was last edited by the player at 01:58, Wed 17 Feb 2016.
Karolina Kowalska
player, 168 posts
Captain, GROM
Spartan-117
Wed 17 Feb 2016
at 20:09
  • msg #46

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Tegyrius:
He sighs and turns to Sébastien.  "This isn't a conversation we should have here.  If we're not on a clock, I'd appreciate you waiting around an hour while I secure my workshop and pack a bag."

He pushes back from the table, preparing to stand, then pauses.  "Are you pulling in the rest of the squadron?"


Lina was a bit surprised at Paddon's reaction to seeing the TUNGSTEN MEMENTO EBE.  She suspected this unit was involved in something the aliens were interested in, but clearly Paddon knew about the existence extraterrestrials, though clearly not what they looked like.  She didn't think it was necessary to tell him about the BRONZE FREESTYLE humanoids that Seb and the others had encountered in Australia.  At least not yet.

"I think we can spare the time for that," Lina said when the venerable Chief asked about preparing to leave.  Replacing the tablet in her bag, Kowalska took a moment to swap the Glock 21 in her waist-pack for the Colt Wasp.  The sun would be setting soon and deployment of the classified machine pistol wouldn't be as noticeable at night, if it ever came to that.

When Paddon asked about the rest of his squadron, Lina nodded.  "Yes, those we know about," she said, making clear that she might be working with incomplete intelligence.  "The rest of our team are working down from Homestead.  We started here and are working our way north."

"We have an NCIS escort outside performing counter surveillance.  They are unwitting to this threat.  Our cover story is that we are a NATO Task Force interviewing survivors of this squadron to gather ASW tactics and techniques.  If you'll excuse me, I'll check in with them now and let them know we'll be here for a bit longer." Karolina pulled out her smart phone and dialed the number she had programed in for Lieutenant Spencer.

"Good evening Lieutenant.  I just wanted to call and check in.  It looks like we will be here for a bit longer.  I'll give you a call five minutes before we are ready to depart.  In the mean time, please let contact me if you notice anything strange or suspicious."

Lina will start pulling close protection on Paddon after the call (entering rooms first, staying a few meters away, etc.)
This message was last edited by the player at 20:14, Wed 17 Feb 2016.
Sebastien Durand
player, 290 posts
DGSE
Dave Ross
Wed 17 Feb 2016
at 20:46
  • msg #47

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Facts are filed away in Durand's mind as Paddon speaks, things the Frenchman would like to explore more just now. Like Paddon's reaction to seeing the Attar. That's what they look like. So the American knew of them but had never seen one before. The DGSE Operator would like to know how the Chief knows about the extra terrestrials, but it's clear that Paddon would prefer to wait to have that conversation. But it is a conversation that would have to take place at some point. perhaps  after they were securely ensconced at Key West.

Other thoughts are competing with each other in the Frenchman's head, unsettling ones. If Paddon does have experience with these things then how long have they been visiting the Earth? It was easy to imagine conspiracies in those circumstances. Who else knew? Who else had been covering it up? His thoughts turn to his own father, a member of the French Senate. What secrets did he have in his head?

Pushing those thoughts away Durand rises to his feet, slowly, so as to give Ricky warning. "We got four other names besides yours Chief." He extracts a slim black notebook from the cargo pocket of his pants, flicks through it until he finds the page he's looking for. "Dana Albinson. John Ceelen. Darnell Hawkins. And Alfredo Herrera. Is there anyone else that we should know about who is not on that list or the list of the deceased?" He locks eyes with the older man. "We all know about Opsec Chief, but if there is anyone else who was off the books we need to know about them so that we can help them. Oh, and one other thing, I am presuming that you have a weapon?"
Hannah Omdahl
player, 150 posts
CWO2, U.S. Army
dcoda
Wed 17 Feb 2016
at 22:10
  • msg #48

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Double Down stood off to the side next to Painter as Dealer and the Lizard King took the lead in 'negotiations' with the lab techs and Adessi.  At first, her eyes were glued to the screen and what was being displayed at magnification there.  But then her gaze slowly wandered down to the actual petri dish and the object itself - however, small it might actually be.  She pushed her oakleys up onto the crown of her head for a moment.

Hannah took a deep breath and her expression went a touch distant.  The fingertips of her right hand touched her chin briefly as she stared intently at object for a thoughtful moment.  Her thin frame shuddered slightly as when she finally caught herself holding her breath and let the stale air in her lungs out.

The auburn-haired army aviatrix averted her eyes and rubbed her left temple for a moment - which morphed into scratching her hair and pulling on her sunglasses instead, suddenly a touch self-conscious.  Her lips were pressed thin in a tight, pensive moue.  "That..." she ventured quiet, "is a strange piece of tech..."  Hannah shook her head slightly, a gesture that might have been either dispelling a notion or dispelling a fog that had clouded over her eyes.  Either way, she paused for a moment before noting rather obliquely, but with a distinct level of certainty, "Must have been pre-programmed or transmitting and receiving at one point.  It's not like it could be controlled mentally, I mean that would be crazy."  She assumed that the others would understand her emphasis on the mechanical part and that she was confident that the rice grain didn't exhibit any 'purple' glow or anything that she could 'detect'.

After the debrief of the op in Australia, the rest of Grey Cell were well aware of what Cooper and Hannah had thought was going on with themselves and the ASIO agents that had encountered the BRONZE FREESTYLE specimens and their psycho-active BELCOURT MALLARD equipment.  Hannah herself had been nearly hijacked psychically; only the timely intervention of Williams had prevent something like that.  And subsequent to that Hannah had (like Cooper) been contacted by the doctors at the Rhine Institute.

But, of course, she couldn't say anything explicit like that (about either the specimens and equipment or their effects and her teammates actions).  At least, not in 'mixed' company.
Michael Dacovetti
player, 203 posts
Tech Sgt, JSOC JCU
keys138
Wed 17 Feb 2016
at 22:48
  • msg #49

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


You have protocol, I have a weapon, is what Dacovetti wants to say before getting a grip on a pulsing adrenal gland.  He's not a federal officer, and it's not a problem in the sense of not having a badge, or at least not yet, it's the lack of a legal framework software package running on the wetware residing in his cranium.  With Choi running interference, Michael makes a tactical decision to withdraw from the negotiations for a few moments and focus on the object with Hannah and the one tech who has proven to be at least nominally helpful.

"Can you show us what you've done so far, please?" he says to the tech.  "We're trying to understand how this could have been introduced or been activated.  Also, if I could borrow your clock radio for a second," Michael doesn't wait to receive an answer and ignores any of the strange glances he receives while unplugging the radio, walking it over to the device, and plugging it back in.  He waves the antenna around the space directly near the device to see if he can pick up any distortion to the smooth jazz playing out of the tiny speaker.  To say that he wishes he was carrying one of his spectrum analyzers in his backpack while on leave is an understatement.
Tegyrius
GM, 518 posts
Sat 20 Feb 2016
at 17:50
  • msg #50

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Key West, 1931 hrs local:

"All clear here, ma'am," Spencer advises Karolina.  "Just let us know when you're ready to roll."

Paddon narrows his eyes at Sébastien's list of names.  "I don't know a Darnell Hawkins.  I served under Lieutenant Ceelen for... six months, maybe?  The other two sound familiar."  He grins.  "And you correctly presume I'm armed."



Miami, 2031 hrs local:

James firmly takes charge of the scene, quelling the techs' objections and delaying, if not completely obviating, Doctor Adessi's incipient explosion.  With Caradoc in tow, James and Adessi examine the unconscious Albinson in his room while Michael and Hannah prod the technicians into accepting catered dinner and overtime pay from the federal government's black budget.

In the end, it is James who finds the entry wound.  It's a needle mark near the right side of Albinson's upper sternum, positioned to intersect the carotid artery as it ascends toward the neck.  Bruising around it suggests a forceful injection, and additional bruises and abrasions on Albinson's hands and forearms are suggestive of a brief struggle.  Adessi remarks that the wound should have bled more, and a quick sample and another round of lab work determines that some sort of coagulant - not one known to the hospital's lab - was at work to seal the injection.

The same coagulant is present on the foreign object which triggered the stroke.  By raiding the hospital's radio room, Michael is able to determine that it's neither magnetized nor actively transmitting, including - as far as he can tell - a total absence of the WILDWOOD GROUSE signature.  Delicate probing causes the chains of particles to twitch as if searching for something solid to latch onto.  Severing one of the chains causes the severed portion to dissociate into individual rice-grain particles.  Further destructive testing of that sample reveals the grains' outer surface is some sort of ceramic sheathing, under which is a fine network of microscopic wires of the same turquoise hue found in some of the Attars' implanted devices and a tiny reservoir of the coagulant substance.

It's a simple matter of coordination to get Hannah into Albinson's room while Adessi is in the restroom.  However, she's unable to obtain anything more than a brief headache from trying to read the man's thoughts.



Key West, 2053 hrs local:

The process of "securing the workshop" turns out to involve locking away several volatile chemicals and gracefully shutting down a 3-D printer which is slowly building a replacement part for a small pump-jet engine.  Once that's done, it's a matter of minutes for Paddon to retrieve a pre-packed overnight bag and a smaller bag full of cat care supplies, then ensnare Ricky and stuff the protesting cat head-first into a soft-sided carrier.  "Hurricanes," he explains to Karolina about the preparations.  With a phone call to a neighbor to take in the mail, he's ready to depart.

As he passes through the gates of NAS Key West, Paddon's demeanor changes subtly, years and retirement falling away.  The group links up with a Spencer and Gutierrez outside the office building which houses the base's NCIS contingent.  When the trio exits the rented Explorer, Spencer steps forward and holds up a hand.  "Folks, I need to take the chief here to a secure phone.  Wait here, please."  The earlier easy compliance is gone from his voice and Gutierrez is two steps from cover.

Ten tense minutes pass in the humid twilight before Spencer and Paddon return.  The lieutenant is a ghastly shade but he waves off Gutierrez and hands Karolina a keycard.  "I apologize for the delay," he grinds out.  "We'll wait here for you.  The chief can show you to the SCIF."

"It's security checks all the way down," Paddon grunts and heads into the building, still carrying Ricky's carrier.  He doesn't speak again until the trio is ensconced in a shielded room barely large enough for them to sit without their knees touching.  Then he unzips the carrier, allowing the disgruntled cat to begin inspecting the room.

"Sorry about that," he says with as much remorse as he displayed the last time he uttered the phrase.  "There is checking out and there is checking out.  And there are places where you can check out but you can never leave."  He waits for a hint of recognition of the lyric, then continues.  "I have a call-in number in case people come around hinting at the squadron's real mission.  I didn't think you'd ever come..."



Miami, 2053 hrs local:

The physical evidence is secured in Michael's backpack, copies of the data rest in the other three agents'  bags, and the technicians have been sent home under an oath of silence enforced by the full weight of James' badge.  A tight-lipped Doctor Adessi walks the quartet of investigators to the lobby in icy silence.

Rain beats down on the sloping glass over the reception area, turning the Florida sunset a strange shade of salmon-shot gray.  The space is deserted save for two women at the reception desk, a janitor with a vacuum cleaner, and a third woman slouched on one of the couch-like growths scattered in a semicircle around the desk.  The latter looks up at Adessi's approach, jams her phone into a pocket of her rain jacket, and rolls to her feet.  She unerringly tracks toward the quintet, stops a few paces away, and scans faces, settling on James.

"Special Agent Choi, I presume, if you'll forgive a bit of racial profiling."  Her eyes narrow as she appraises him.  "Detective Salcedo, Miami Homicide."  One hand brushes the hem of her jacket back to reveal the badge clipped to her belt.  "Let's talk."
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:50, Sat 20 Feb 2016.
Sebastien Durand
player, 292 posts
DGSE
Dave Ross
Sat 20 Feb 2016
at 21:13
  • msg #51

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

When Spencer takes Paddon into the office Durand walks around the Explorer, placing himself between Kowalska and Gutierrez, facing the Polish woman, his back to the NCIS agent. Reaching behind he placed his hands on the back of his neck, began to roll his head from side to side, his eyes half closed, his movements no different to that any tired traveller might make after a long day sitting in planes - no matter how comfortable - and automobiles. "I need more coffee." he remarks to Dancer casually, before lowering his voice "Did you notice that he had never heard of the crypto guy, Hawkins? That is a red flag."

Once they are in the SCIF the Frenchman eschews a seat, instead leans against the wall, his arms folded, locks eyes with Kowalska at the mention of the Squadron's real mission. "So what was your mission Chief? The real one? And do you have any idea why they are suddenly coming after you all now, after all these years?"
Tegyrius
GM, 519 posts
Sat 20 Feb 2016
at 21:32
  • msg #52

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Key West:

Paddon grins humorlessly.  "Flight-testing of experimental aircraft based on recovered alien technology," he says without preamble, watching for Sébastien's reaction.
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:44, Sun 21 Feb 2016.
James Choi
player, 199 posts
Special Agt, FBI HRT
Raellus
Sun 21 Feb 2016
at 01:38
  • msg #53

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Tegyrius:
"Special Agent Choi, I presume, if you'll forgive a bit of racial profiling."  Her eyes narrow as she appraises him.  "Detective Salcedo, Miami Homicide."  One hand brushes the hem of her jacket back to reveal the badge clipped to her belt.  "Let's talk."


The assumption shouldn't bother him at all, but it still does, a little. He resists the sudden retaliatory urge to ask Salcedo if she's somehow related to Gloria Estefan. Adessi or someone on her staff had called James' bluff, and it kind of stings.

"What about, Detective?" he inquires pithily, flashing a brief, disarming smile and trying to keep his tone light.

-
This message was last edited by the player at 01:45, Sun 21 Feb 2016.
Tegyrius
GM, 520 posts
Sun 21 Feb 2016
at 01:52
  • msg #54

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Miami:

Salcedo dismisses Doctor Adessi with a lift of her chin.  She matches James' smile and tone, acknowledging with her eyes that this is how the game will be played - for now.  She steps in a pace and waits until the physician is out of earshot before speaking.  "My office has a pretty good working relationship with the Miami field office.  When my boss heard about the FBI looking into something in our lane, he had me call over there.  So how about we go get coffee and talk about how Miami PD can help," she sweeps her gaze over the rest of the team, "a 'multinational CT task force' do whatever it's here to do."
Karolina Kowalska
player, 170 posts
Captain, GROM
Spartan-117
Sun 21 Feb 2016
at 07:15
  • msg #55

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Sebastien Durand:
"I need more coffee." he remarks to Dancer casually, before lowering his voice "Did you notice that he had never heard of the crypto guy, Hawkins? That is a red flag."


"Yes, it's very concerning," Lina said with a slight nod, and an out of place smile.  It wasn't that she didn't take the idea seriously; it was that she appreciated former DSGE Agents insights into the matter.  Kowalska made a mental note to get the information to Choi and the others before they visited Homestead.

Tegyrius:
"It's security checks all the way down," Paddon grunts and heads into the building, still carrying Ricky's carrier.  He doesn't speak again until the trio is ensconced in a shielded room barely large enough for them to sit without their knees touching.  Then he unzips the carrier, allowing the disgruntled cat to begin inspecting the room.

"Sorry about that," he says with as much remorse as he displayed the last time he uttered the phrase.  "There is checking out and there is checking out.  And there are places where you can check out but you can never leave."  He waits for a hint of recognition of the lyric, then continues.  "I have a call-in number in case people come around hinting at the squadron's real mission.  I didn't think you'd ever come..."


Call-in number, caught Lina's attention.  No doubt she and Seb had been flagged in some ops center somewhere out there in America.  She wondered how long the USG had known about the threat.

When Paddon mentioned testing recovered alien technology, all Lina could think is that the rumors about Roswell and such must actually be true.  Suddenly a wave of conspiracy theories involving the United States Government and everything from suspicion that they instigated World War 2 establish economic hegemony across the world, to their part in the Kennedy Assassination popped into her mind.

Karolina took a deep breath and refocused on the issue at hand.  She had about a million questions that she wanted to ask, but most were not relevant right now.  She settled on repeating Bannon's speculation.

"Chief, there is some concern that our Task Force's recent activities might have triggered the adversaries current response.  Our team's first mission was in Libya, extracting two scientists working on nuclear fusion technology.  That was in March," Karolina said, putting the idea out and waiting to see if it triggered any synapses in Paddon's cortex.
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 13:17, Sun 21 Feb 2016.
Sebastien Durand
player, 293 posts
DGSE
Dave Ross
Sun 21 Feb 2016
at 13:14
  • msg #56

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Flight-testing of experimental aircraft based on recovered alien technology. If someone had told him six months ago that they had flown experimental aircraft based on alien technology Durand would have thought that they were perhaps a little crazy. But now it feels like a normal conversation. For a moment the Frenchman's mind drifts, to what life will be like after Task Force 47. Will he have a number to call if anyone ever comes asking about things that they should not know? Will he be looking over his shoulder for the rest of his life in case their alien foe ever decides to come after him? Will his head be full of stories that he cannot share with anyone except those who were there, those who also know?

And how many people do know? They had gone into Libya unprepared because someone sitting behind a desk somewhere had decided that there was information that they did not need to know. How many other men and women were there, how much information was still being held back from Grey Cell?

The Frenchman continues to lean against the wall as Kowalska asks her questions, his eyes never leaving the elderly American as he listens to what he says, watches his responses.
Michael Dacovetti
player, 205 posts
Tech Sgt, JSOC JCU
keys138
Sun 21 Feb 2016
at 16:15
  • msg #57

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Dacovetti smiles thinly at the Detective then slides his eyes along the horizontal to Agent Choi.  "Excuse me for a moment, I need to make a phone call."  He motions Crewe to come along with a jerk of the head.  The walk outside is brief, the Florida air hot and humid in a familiar way that brings back memories of his tech school experiences up north on the Panhandle.  The concrete and asphalt are still radiating off the accumulated thermal energy from sitting in the sun all day and he starts sweating almost immediately.  Instead of dwelling on it, he digs out his iPhone and punches in a few numbers making sure the line is encrypted.

"Dealer, secured line." he says into the phone, then waits for the reply from Foundation.  While he waits, Michael's eyes constantly scan the area, as he tries to maintain some situational awareness leaving Crewe doing the thing.  "Our stroke was outside the normal parameters, I'll have a data squirt sent in a few minutes.  We need a background check on Miami PD Homicide Detective Salcedo, no first name. She's here wanting to interface, Choi is dealing with it."  He pauses again.  "No, call me back, I've got to transfer the files over with a summary anyway."

The phone disappears into the jacket he's wishing he could shed in the thick air.  The laptop comes out of the backpack, screen carefully shielded from view, and is flipped open, balanced on one hand.  Happiness is roughly equivalent to an LTE signal, he thinks, and begins to type.
James Choi
player, 201 posts
Special Agt, FBI HRT
Raellus
Sun 21 Feb 2016
at 20:56
  • msg #58

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


"So, Special Agent Choi, what am I volunteering to get my department into, exactly?"

James blows gently across the dark surface of his hospital cafeteria coffee, wondering if the detective has connected his refusal of milk or cream with the lactose intolerance fairly typical of East Asian populations. Nothing validates all stereotypes quite like one even partially valid stereotype.

"My team is here investigating a credible threat. A terrorist cell with connections to the Middle East is apparently targeting ex-service members for assassination. We believe several elderly veterans have already been attacked, including Mr. Albinson; threats have been made against several others, although not to the targets directly."

James studies Salcedo's face for a reaction. So far, she seems to be buying what he's selling.

"Why senior citizens? Why not Kennedy or Eglin or something more... relevant?"

"Well, first of all, it's terrifying. Whacking seniors packs nearly the emotionally punch of going after little kids. It might not be 'relevant', but it's relatable. Half the country has connections to a retiree in the state. Second, these vets have ties to the U.S. military but they're the softest of soft targets. These aren't martyrdom operations- not yet, anyway. This is a relatively small cell and it's trying to make a statement and conserve its strength for the big show, whatever that might be. We're here to catch them before they can do any more damage."

"If they're trying to 'make a statement', why haven't I heard anything about this in the media?" Salcedo asks.

James takes a sip of the bitter brew to cover for a brief involuntary grimace. She's good.

"That's a very good question, and one that we're keen to answer as well." James pauses to smile apologetically, "I'm sorry, Detective Salcedo, but that's really all I can tell you right now."

I've probably already said too much...

"Alright, then." Salcedo responds, failing to mask an enthusiasm that catches the FBI extraterrestrial terrorist hunter a bit by surprise. "How can my department help?"

James disguises a sigh of relief by blowing across his coffee again, unnecessarily,  "Security, starting with Mr. Albinson. We've already placed other vets on the target list into protective custody, but there may be more. If your people can help with that, we'd be much obliged. I give you my word, as soon as I'm cleared to share more information with outside agencies, you'll be the first person I call."

-
This message was last edited by the player at 01:26, Mon 22 Feb 2016.
Tegyrius
GM, 521 posts
Thu 25 Feb 2016
at 01:18
  • msg #59

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Miami:

"I can get a uniform in here," Salcedo agrees, "if you can give me something about method and motive.  Captain Albinson was brought in as a stroke patient.  That's... not a normal manner of homicide."

"And if I'm going to run any kind of interference for you, I need to know who the rest of your team really works for, 'cause they're pretty clearly not Bureau.  I'm not even sure they're all U.S. citizens, which raises some awkward questions of jurisdiction."

There's a long pause while she stares intently at James, clearly deciding how many more cards to reveal.  "I'm also working another homicide," she concedes.  "It might be on your list.  George Frye.  Retired rear admiral.  But he pretty clearly didn't die of a stroke."



Key West:

Paddon frowns in thought and shakes his head.  "I can't think of an initiating event," he says slowly.  "We don't talk a lot about the squadron but some of us kept in touch.  We've always been looking over our shoulders a little bit.  But with most of the deaths on your list looking like natural causes, that wouldn't have been immediately obvious to most of us.  We're all a bunch of cantankerous old bastards."

"Libya," he says, turning to Karolina.  "That's not someplace I'd expect to find a fusion program.  They were barely able to get their fission research off the ground.  What can you tell me about their work?"



Miami:

Caradoc boosts himself onto a concrete planter and casually scans the sidewalk while Michael goes to work.  "If James can't get her to warm up, maybe I'll take a run at her," he says, exaggerating his accent just a trace and glancing through the window at the FBI agent and the detective.  "What?  We need someone with the legal authority to order a full autopsy."

In near-unison, Michael and Hannah's phones warble.  "What, no one wants to talk to me?"  Crad complains, grinning.  "Fine, then, fuck you both."

Michael's call emits the electronic tones of the encryption firmware syncing up again.  "Dealer, Foundation, secure line," says the distant voice.  "Salcedo, Adriana P., Detective with Miami-Dade Police.  Age 34.  Self-identifies as Cuban-American.  A.A. from Miami Dade College, B.S. in anthropology from University of Miami earned while working in patrol.  Eight years in patrol with occasional TDY to narcotics.  Made detective four years ago, spent three years full-time in narcotics before transferring to homicide last year.  Commendations and citizen complaints suggest she is clean, ambitious, and aggressive.  Additional support for that: an application to Florida International University's law school is in process."  The recitation pauses and Michael can hear the clatter of keys in the background.  "Further, personal: divorced, no dependents of record.  Father was a Marielito who earned American citizenship through Marine Corps service, now manages a Chevrolet dealership... ah, owned on paper by her mother.  One younger brother, currently serving aboard USCGC Campbell, homeported in Maine."

Meanwhile, Hannah's caller ID indicates Barbark wants her attention.  "Miss Hannah!  The bird looks good for a rental.  She's ready when you are."  He pauses.  "We have door guns available.  Do you want me to mount them?  Oh, and tell Mister Mike his black box is wired in and ready."
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:19, Thu 25 Feb 2016.
James Choi
player, 202 posts
Special Agt, FBI HRT
Raellus
Thu 25 Feb 2016
at 02:31
  • msg #60

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Tegyrius:
"I can get a uniform in here," Salcedo agrees, "if you can give me something about method and motive.  Captain Albinson was brought in as a stroke patient.  That's... not a normal manner of homicide."

"And if I'm going to run any kind of interference for you, I need to know who the rest of your team really works for, 'cause they're pretty clearly not Bureau.  I'm not even sure they're all U.S. citizens, which raises some awkward questions of jurisdiction."

There's a long pause while she stares intently at James, clearly deciding how many more cards to reveal.  "I'm also working another homicide," she concedes.  "It might be on your list.  George Frye.  Retired rear admiral.  But he pretty clearly didn't die of a stroke."


James listens intently, giving subtle non-verbal feedback cues to encourage Salcedo to disclose more. His mind is balancing processing the incoming data with preparing suitably diplomatic, yet satisfyingly substantive, responses...

"My team is part of a multinational anti-terrorism task force. It's a sort of quid-pro-quo, package deal kind of thing. The FBI helped tackle affiliated cells in my colleagues' home countries, now they're returning the favor. Technically, they're here acting as 'observer-advisors' in the current investigation. It's all perfectly legal, I've been assured, but it's also top secret. I'd appreciate you not sharing any of this with anyone else."

James winces inwardly at his own words. He's wading out into some pretty murky waters here, opsec-wise, and legality-wise, and he knows it. He's attempting to make Salcedo a co-conspirator, win her trust by bringing her into the cone of silence, all without giving away too much. He not naïve enough to believe she won't tell her partner everything as soon as she walks out of the hospital, and after that, who knows how far it'll go. It's a confidence game, of sorts, one James doesn't feel entirely comfortable playing, but it's the only game in town right now, and he's doing the best he can.

He can't give her too much time to think, though. It's time to change the subject.

"We're still trying to figure out exactly what caused Mr. Albinson's stroke. The medical team found an injection site where there shouldn't have been one. At the moment, it looks like some sort of foreign substance was introduced intravenously, prompting the stroke. Were sending a sample to our crimelab."

James was being honest, yet deliberately vague, well aware that the proffered explanation implied poison, or a biological agent of some sort- a natural assumption that James wasn't about to disabuse Salcedo of.

"It's an unusual m.o., one that we haven't really seen these folks use before. They've used edged weapons and firearms in their other hits- including the one on George Frye," James pauses for dramatic effect, then opens the door hoping for reciprocity from the good detective, "What can you tell me about that?"

-
This message was last edited by the player at 03:03, Thu 25 Feb 2016.
Michael Dacovetti
player, 208 posts
Tech Sgt, JSOC JCU
keys138
Sat 27 Feb 2016
at 02:54
  • msg #61

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Tegyrius:
In near-unison, Michael and Hannah's phones warble.  "What, no one wants to talk to me?"  Crad complains, grinning.  "Fine, then, fuck you both."


"Popular, Witty, Smart," Michael quips back before answering his phone.  "Pick two."

The information he receives isn't particularly surprising.  Any homicide cop in a major city would have to conform to one of several stereotypes, all of them effective.  If she wasn't good, she wouldn't be sitting at a table interacting with Choi, sent to provide overwatch on a counter-terrorism team in a twisted jurisdictional pissing match.  JSOC has its political battles, but at least the rules downrange are different from the politics of the rear.  Here in the Land of the Big PX, it seems like the operations theatre is both the rear and downrange.  If he isn't exposed to the phrase 'Posse Comitatus' in the next ten minutes, Dacovetti is going to be pleasantly surprised.

"I don't think your her type, Crad.  She' doesn't sound like one to settle." he says after thanking Foundation for the information.  He waits a moment before smiling at the medic.  "See, my selection was witty and smart.  Fuck popular."

With the data sent to Foundation for analysis, Michael takes a moment to sweep through the camera feeds available on his monitor in an attempt to identify any strange characters lurking around inside or outside the hospital, excluding the present company.  He'll wait for Hannah to finish her call before leading the trio back in to see how Choi is faring against the Cuban American.
Hannah Omdahl
player, 153 posts
CWO2, U.S. Army
dcoda
Sun 28 Feb 2016
at 09:18
  • msg #62

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Showing that she obviously didn't choose 'witty', Hannah simply stuck out her tongue in mock playfulness with Painter.  Having traveled with the Irishman for a couple of weeks on the winding backroads had made her feel a closeness with the team medic that she'd grown fond of.  She pointed to Adessi and added with a smile matching Crewe's, "The pretty doctor probably wouldn't mind some attention..."

The auburn-haired pilot stepped off to the side and spoke in rather hushed tones as she took the phone call.  Double Down alternately let her brow furrow and then nodded curtly before answering Barfight.  "Perfect." she intoned at the news that the MH-60S was prepped and ready; her trust in Barbrak's competence was absolute having worked and flown with the man.  "Absolutely." she added with little to no hesitation in her voice as an answer to his query about the door mounts, "We go to every party dressed to kill from now on..."  They weren't going to be outgunned at the next encounter, if she could help it.

With respect to the Dealer's new-fangled detector, she'd let Dacovetti know.  Just not right now in mixed company.
Karolina Kowalska
player, 171 posts
Captain, GROM
Spartan-117
Mon 29 Feb 2016
at 11:08
  • msg #63

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Tegyrius:
"Libya," he says, turning to Karolina.  "That's not someplace I'd expect to find a fusion program.  They were barely able to get their fission research off the ground.  What can you tell me about their work?"


"As I understand it, Doctor's Satish and Jayashri Tamboli were working on creating a viable fusion reactor, in hopes of powering  a massive series of desal plants.  Turn Libya green and make it the breadbasket of North Africa kind of stuff.  We received intelligence that the," Lina's voice shifted slightly, as did her expression as she spoke the next word, "aliens, operating undercover as human terrorists, were interested in the Tamboli's research.  As the time, we were unwitting as to their extraterrestrial nature, so we assumed that as terrorist, they were interested in weaponizing this research.  However, it's possible they had another actual agenda." Lina suppressed a sigh as the end.  These 'aliens' almost certainly had an agenda far beyond what she or any other human could predict.  That was part and parcel of fighting this threat.  How that agenda drove them to kill pensioners 9000 kilometers away, was what they were trying to figure out.

"Chief Paddon, what kind of experimental technology did your unit test?"
Sebastien Durand
player, 296 posts
DGSE
Dave Ross
Mon 29 Feb 2016
at 20:06
  • msg #64

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Durand leans back against the wall of the small room, his arms folded across his chest, the holstered Glock a reassuring presence at his waist, Not that he expected to need it at a United States Naval facility, but one never knew, particularly when facing an enemy that possessed the ultimate in disguises, being able to apparently alter its appearance at will.

The Frenchman is content to defer to Kowalska as she questions Paddon, for  whilst he had been trained in various methods of interrogation, several of which were quite inappropriate for the current scenario he knew that Dancer was equally skilled in techniques to extract information from subjects, whether cooperative like Paddon or uncooperative like the market trader in Doha. Although he had proven quite willing to talk in the end.

For the most part though Durand just watches Paddon, trying to put his two degrees in Psychology to good use, studying the American's reactions to the Pole's questions, his behaviour, his body language. After all, it's not every day that three people can talk about aliens and spacecraft without at least one thinking that the others are mad. Idly the DGSE operator wondered if the room was bugged, whether one or other of the American intelligence agencies would be listening to every word. If they were Durand doubted if they would think anyone in the room was mad, for they probably already knew more than him, Kowalska, and Paddon combined.

Durand does intervene when Dancer turns the conversation back to Paddon's Squadron and their activities. "Where were you based out of Chief?" Durand pauses for a moment before he continues. "And do you know if the Squadron is still operational?" In other words, is the American military still operating alien technology.
Tegyrius
GM, 526 posts
Fri 4 Mar 2016
at 02:33
  • msg #65

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Homestead Air Reserve Base
Homestead, Florida
10 June 2015
0632 hrs local (1132 hrs Zulu)

The tableau is becoming a theme.  The hangar is not a SCIF, not by a long shot, but it is as close as Marie Kohl, Michael Dacovetti, and a Pelican case full of electronics can make it.  Outside, the slender wings of a Gulfstream G650 and slimmer main rotors of an MH-60S cast spidery shadows on the sun-bleached ramp as they huddle together for mutual protection against a massive and indifferent KC-10.  Inside a bleary Grey Cell sits, slouches, or stands, according to personal inclination, around a quartet of folding tables laden with the slowly-cooling remains of breakfast (whatever his other qualifications, Caporal-Chef Daimien Poirier of L'armée de L'air is either a master food scrounger or very good at filtering Yelp reviews).  Tablets, laptops, and a scattering of hardcopy are interspersed with exsanguinated coffee cups and stripped carcasses of bakery boxes.  Around the island of food and evidence, the cable nerves and video eyes of the Cave are taking shape under the busy hands of the freshly-arrived Amber Cell detachment.



Yielding to James Choi's gentle persuasion, Detective Adriana Salcedo has provided the sparse file on the murder of Rear Admiral (ret.) George Frye.  Most of it corroborates what Task Force 47 already from footage and preliminary reports: Frye was killed in the parking lot of his attorney, David Coel of Coel, Young, and Abbey, by an unknown subject with a large-bladed knife.  The coroner's neat handwriting attests to the killer's strength and precision.  Nothing was taken from Frye's person.  His pockets contained wallet, money clip, pen, notebook, phone, keys, folding rigger's knife, and an S&W M&P Compact in .357 SiG with a Crimson Trace lasergrip and one extra magazine. The attorney admits Frye had an appointment with him, made in some haste the day before, but claims no knowledge of the admiral's agenda.  Their friendship has been well-established for decades.  Frye's daughter is similarly unaware of any agenda, though she did remark that her father seemed distracted and irritable in the days before his demise.

"Charlie Sheen" is unknown to Miami-Dade PD.  Among the items arriving in the team's inbox overnight, though, was a transcript of the words exchanged between Frye and his killer, courtesy of an Amber Cell analyst with a talent for lip-reading:

"Charlie Sheen": Excuse me.

Frye: Yes?

Sheen: Admiral (apparent emphasis) George Frye.

Frye: Yeah, who are you?

Sheen: You should not have tampered with stolen property.  We can smell it on you.

Frye: You're--



Remote input from Green Cell on the object recovered from Captain (ret.) Dana Albinson's brain contains little additional data of immediate use but frequent yammering in which the phrase "weaponized nanotechnology" features prominently.  Strictly speaking, the object doesn't fit the definition, but it's close enough for concern.  Through trial and error, Michael Dacovetti and Cradaoc Crewe have discovered a specific electromagnetic charge that can cause the device's components to dissociate, as well as a second charge that causes them to "reboot" while suspended in blood or saline solution, assembling anew in the same configuration which was so nearly lethal to Albinson.



The first fruits of Project RETICLE, derived from Michael Dacovetti's original signal analyzer design, are now wired into Hannah Omdahl's borrowed Knighthawk and the anonymous Gulfstream.  A third unit's antenna sits atop the hangar.  The scopes are quiet: no WILDWOOD GROUSE emanations are in evidence.  Should that change, Grey Cell's phones will erupt with warnings.



The security footage from Nininger State Veterans' Nursing Home, freshly arrived in the care of an intensely curious but diplomatically silent FBI agent, is illuminating.  The only outside personnel on site at the time of Albinson's stroke were five visitors - all known to the staff as long-time friends or family of other patients - and two men from the regular laundry service.  The latter were not the regular crew; they were tight-lipped and standoffish, with thick accents.  Their movements placed them out of sight of the nursing home's rudimentary security system for several minutes at a time.

Departing, one inadvertently exposed a bared forearm to a camera.  It bore a tattoo Sébastien has seen before, on the arm of another man who Andrey Vasilyev called on for assistance after Qatar.  Another nation-less veteran of Spetznaz.



Now:

Chief Warrant Officer Ted Bannon saunters up to the table, peels the communication headset from his head, and rummages in the bakery boxes until he emerges with a cream-filled caramel bacon Long John.  "Mm.  Fat pills."  He takes an enormous bite and chews contentedly.  "Vidry just called.  The Senior Chief is up.  He's on his way over and he'll be ready to brief out as soon as you pour some coffee into him.  Do you want to get anything else out of the way before he gets here?"
Sebastien Durand
player, 298 posts
DGSE
Dave Ross
Fri 4 Mar 2016
at 20:54
  • msg #66

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Poirier had done a great job arranging breakfast, although Durand's Gallic sensibilities were perturbed by the fact that croissants seemed to be as scarce here as they had been in Melbourne. And then he sees what Bannon is eating. What the fuck is that?

Finishing his coffee, the Frenchman places the styrene cup on the table, leans forward. "Can you cue up the footage from the nursing home again please? Specifically the laundry guys leaving." When the video appears on the screen he watches closely until the part that he has been waiting  for appears. "Can you freeze that?"

Durand then rises from his chair, points to the tattoo on the bare forearm that is displayed on the screen. "I have seen this tattoo before. It is a Spetznaz tattoo. So this guy is either current or former Russian Special Forces or an Attar who has taken on the form of a Spetznaz soldier."

He turns to face the others, folds his arms across his chest. "James, can you make nice with local law enforcement and see what we can find out about the laundry service? Who owns it, what their background is, anything that you can get on their employees, especially the two guys who were tasked to go to the nursing home that day. Names, addresses, next of kin, everything that they can give us. Once we have addresses for them someone needs to take a discrete look - it is possible that these guys did a wet job and the real employees are already dead."

Durand then looks over at Bannon. "We have a line of communication to Andrey, yes? I need to speak with him, see what he can add from his end. See if he can find out if any of these guys are not where they are supposed to be right now." He pauses a moment, his thumb stroking his chin, right index finger tapping his lower lip. "Hopefully he may also be able to find out whether this is some sort of officially sanctioned Russian intelligence operation on US soil or a freelance job."

"That's if it's not another of the Attars' identities." There is something that has been bothering Durand for a while about the way that the aliens can take on human form. "If it is, Andrey may still be able to help. One of the things that I have always wondered is how they manage to take on human shape. Do they need to have access to the original person? If Andrey can identify any Spetznaz operators that might be missing that might be helpful."
James Choi
player, 205 posts
Special Agt, FBI HRT
Raellus
Fri 4 Mar 2016
at 23:24
  • msg #67

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Sebastien Durand:
He turns to face the others, folds his arms across his chest. "James, can you make nice with local law enforcement and see what we can find out about the laundry service? Who owns it, what their background is, anything that you can get on their employees, especially the two guys who were tasked to go to the nursing home that day. Names, addresses, next of kin, everything that they can give us. Once we have addresses for them someone needs to take a discrete look - it is possible that these guys did a wet job and the real employees are already dead."


James rubs his chin between thumb and forefinger. "I can ask, but Salcedo's probably going to want to get in on it. Are we cool with that or do we want handle it on our own?"

-
This message was last edited by the player at 23:25, Fri 04 Mar 2016.
Michael Dacovetti
player, 210 posts
Tech Sgt, JSOC JCU
keys138
Fri 4 Mar 2016
at 23:34
  • msg #68

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


Dacovetti cradles a styrofoam cup of coffee between the finger tips of both of his hands, trying to minimize the transfer of thermal energy from the cup to his fingers due to the warm Florida temperatures while maintaining an acute sense of irony that he is going to pour the scorching liquid down his gullet anyway.  The donuts look tasty and the appearance of his favorite (donut, cake, chocolate with chocolate glazing and sprinkles) is going to overwhelm his resistance to the calorie delivery device within minutes, with a margin of error of thirty seconds.  Give or take. It's possible the airman can distract himself with fantasies of weaponized nanotech (or nightmares, to be fair), albeit unlikely.

"We need an audit of the admiral's personal life.  Mr. Sheen indicated he could smell the stolen technology on Admiral Frye.  That implies, to me, that he still has it somewhere, whether at an office, his home, or an off-site storage location like a U-Store it." Dacovetti takes a sip from his coffee.  "Unless our Senior Chief can shed some light on a promising location based on their past operational parameters."
Karolina Kowalska
player, 175 posts
Captain, GROM
Spartan-117
Sat 5 Mar 2016
at 09:23
  • msg #69

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Karolina looked over the sugar festival that the American's seemed to be picking through for breakfast.  The options for something healthy looked limited.  She was craving jaja sadzone na świeżym pieczywie z hummusem, avocado and a cafe bombon from Milanovo, near her mother's house, but she settled for some toast, strawberry jam, and black coffee.

"Do we have any information on the olfactory centers of Tungsten Memento or Bronze Freestyle?" Lina asked Crewe and the assembled Amber personnel.  Kowalska considered that 'smell it on you' might be a language issue, as well, with the alien's inserting smell for some other method of detection that simply didn't exist for humans.  Either way, the more they knew about the alien's ability to smell, the better, even if all the knew was that they needed to know more.
Sebastien Durand
player, 299 posts
DGSE
Dave Ross
Sat 5 Mar 2016
at 09:41
  • msg #70

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

"It may not be literal." Durand joins in the conversation about the reference about the alien being able to smell whatever it was it was referring to. "It could be a reference to something. " He looks over at Dancer. "Paddon made a couple of references to being exposed to radiation, oui? At one point he said that the whole Squadron glowed in the dark or words to that effect. Say for sake of discussion these guys were exposed to some sort of alien radiation - or something like radiation - then maybe the aliens can detect that? The way that we would using a geiger counter."

"Oh, one other thing on the subject of Paddon. He claimed not to know anyone named Darnell Hawkins. Can we do some extra digging on that name, see if anything unusual comes up?"
Tegyrius
GM, 529 posts
Mon 7 Mar 2016
at 23:52
  • msg #71

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Bannon juggles coffee, legal pad, and half-eaten pastry abomination as he makes notes.  "Run ex-Spetznaz dude's description through the usual databases and past our own pet commie.  Look at where the admiral might have been holding something of interest.  Ping the hundred-pound heads about alien olfactory acuity.  Background on Darnell Hawkins, whoever he is..  And check out the laundry service and its staffing practices - Jim, that one is probably worth running through the locals so they feel like we're keeping them in the loop.  And you guys will probably want to talk to the lawyer and the daughter once we've run the admiral's records."

He takes another bite and looks up.  "Thaff fll?  Sorry.  That's all?"
Caradoc Crewe
NPC, 37 posts
Corporal, 21st SAS
Mon 7 Mar 2016
at 23:55
  • msg #72

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Caradoc waves his own partially-devoured ham and cheese biscuit for attention.  "The other two deaths that didn't look natural.  Buki and, uh," he thumbs through his tablet, "Stephanidis, the robbery.  We should look at whatever those police departments have on those investigations.  Jim, is that something you can get through your detective or will going outside her jurisdiction tip our hand too much?"
This message was last edited by the player at 23:55, Mon 07 Mar 2016.
James Choi
player, 207 posts
Special Agt, FBI HRT
Raellus
Wed 9 Mar 2016
at 03:49
  • msg #73

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


"A few more cooks..." James lets the sentence trail off, but then thinks better of closing the door on the suggestion. "But then again, it might be lower profile if the local PD to made the inquiries than to put my name and credentials out there any more than they have been already."

The Field Agent and shooter looks around the room to gauge his other colleague's opinions on adding more hands to the heavy work of finding the E.T. cell and ending its senior citizen assassination operations.

-
Tegyrius
GM, 530 posts
Fri 11 Mar 2016
at 21:10
  • msg #74

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Bannon hands off his tasking notes to his operations staff and busies himself with a quick phone call to Incirlik.  The rest of the team finishes their various breakfasts while kicking around the relative merits of involving local law enforcement versus further abusing James' credentials.  The discussion is winding down when an ill-tuned vehicle rattles to a halt outside.  A few moments later, the door swings open to admit Commander Steven Vest, Senior Chief (retired) Robert Paddon, Sergent-Chef Christophe Vidry, and two more French air commandos.

Vest - the only uniformed person in the hangar, aside from the KC-10's aircrew - is freshly-shaven and laundered, but he trails a cloud of fatigue from his sagging eyes and shoulders.  Paddon, looking much more relaxed and rested, inspects the Cave with a mingled air of interest and skepticism once he sets down an oversized pet carrier (the occasional resigned yowl emanates from within the container but Paddon seems unconcerned).  Once inside their colleagues' perimeter, the Frenchmen abandon their casual alertness to scavenge through the baked goods.

Vest extends his hand to James first.  "Special Agent Choi.  Good to see you again.  Chief," he adds, turning to Bannon.  He glances around the assembled Grey Cell.  "Good to finally meet the rest of you in person."

"Sir," Bannon replies.  "I've got Incirlik on the line."  He gestures toward the videoconference array positioned at one end of the table archipelago, where Group Captain Grant Mewes, White Cell's Major Flynn Bryant, and Doctor Sabah Boulos' images stare back from Turkey.  His demeanor subtly shifts to something more respectul and yet warier as he turns to Paddon.  "Chief, if we could get the briefing under way, please?"

"You know, I retired so I wouldn't have to learn PowerPoint," Paddon grumbles, but he takes a seat at the table nonetheless.  He fidgets with notepad, pen, and coffee mug for a few moments before he's satisfied with their arrangement.  Then he reaches down to unlatch the pet carrier and hoists an immense black-and-white cat into his lap.  It's familiar behavior to the students of human behavior among the team: a last few moments bought before launching into a difficult recitation.  Then he takes a deep breath, makes eye contact with the camera, and begins.  Karolina and Sébastien have heard the story before but it's new to the rest of the audience.

"I was posted to Observation Squadron Fifty-Four in the fall of 1958.  It was in the middle of the polar cruise on Skate.  When we made port in Norway, a couple of officers," he nods to Vest, "pulled me ashore and interviewed me.  They asked me if I would be willing to go TDY for about a year to work on an urgent experimental nuclear power program.  Wouldn't give me any more details but that wasn't surprising.  You've gotta understand, Skate was the first production nuke boat in the fleet.  Everything was experimental and classified.  At first, I thought this was some kind of elaborate counter-intelligence sting.  They said they were engineering officers but their knowledge base wasn't what it should have been."  He smiles grimly.  "I got pissed.  Loyalty testing wasn't American, you know?  When I called them on it, they apologized.  Told me the program was foreign technology exploitation.  That sounded pretty good - stick it to the Reds, right?  So I said I was in.

"The cover story for pulling me off the boat was appendicitis.  I didn't know I was reporting to a Naval Air squadron until I got to the squadron.  Our base was in Texas - NAS Corpus Christi.  Most of the engineering functions were there, as well as the," he hesitates, "specimens.  And the workshop.  We stood up a detachment in Pensacola in mid-'59 but that was only for supporting flight testing over the Gulf.

"On paper, my assignment was radiation safety.  I'd been to that school before coming aboard Skate so I thought I knew the job.  And I did - for Skate.  But the other nucs and I had to throw out the book for the squadron's operations."  His face twists in remembered grief.  "I'm ashamed to say we never got it entirely right.  We were working with stuff that human science still hasn't caught up with, as far as I know.  A lot of squadron alumni have died of cancer or," he hesitates again and waves a hand at his head, "just gone bugfuck.  I don't know why I haven't.  I was in it as deep as any of them except the flight crews.

"When I got to the squadron, the story they gave us was that we were working on reverse-engineering recovered Russian and Chinese technology.  No one believed that, not after we got our first looks at the specimens.  No one ever told us how the Navy got its hands on," he breaks contact with the camera to shoot a penetrating look at Vest, who flinches, "extraterrestrial spaceships.  But there were two partial sets of spaceframes and power and propulsion systems.  Fragments of a third spaceframe, too.  All related technology, as far as we could tell, but not the same design.  The fragments and one of the partials had obviously spent some time in the Pacific, probably off the West Coast.  There was a mustang in the squadron, former diver... he identified the barnacle species.  The fragments had been down a long time.  Probably about ten years for the partial.

"We started by disassembling the first ship.  We spent three months pulling it apart.  Some times, we had to invent the tools to do the work.  Or steal them."  He grins, taking a decade off his apparent age.  "The world's first industrial cutting laser was one we stole from Bell Labs.  They got the FBI involved because they thought Russian spies did it.  Someone had to hush up the investigation.

"It took another four or five months to rebuild the control systems.  A lot of them were missing and a lot more weren't ever meant for human use.  We had a couple of nasty radiation accidents.  I'm talking lead-lined coffins.  They'd had more before I got there.  They recruited me because the last radiation safety crew died shutting down the Finger.  They had to tear down a workshop and truck it all to Idaho for burial.

"We called the power cores the Finger and the Reaper.  They had inventory numbers that no one ever used.  The Finger was damaged, I think.  Less stable.  It looked like a little jade spindle, three inches long, an inch thick.  It had a crack along its long axis that would fluctuate in length.  It would get longer under stress.  Then it would heal itself if we left it in the vault for a week or two.  The Reaper was the same material but it was a faceted globe about the size of a baseball.

"Both of them were sensitive to your thoughts.  If you concentrated on one, it would become weightless, immune to gravity.  That was the party trick.  You needed the control systems for anything else.  I don't understand the neuroscience but the controller team came up with a way to plug them into a filtered EEG machine.  A human operator with good visualization skills and a way to enter REM sleep could generate a, a radius of antigravity effect.  Or could make them radiate, anything from gamma to high-frequency radio.  When they were radiating, they also generated was a continuous strong static at 575 megahertz. 

"The operators had to pass a bunch of psych screening and some other medical stuff I was never briefed on.  We lost about half of them anyway.  Catatonic, psychotic, schizophrenic.  I personally knew of at least a dozen.  A lot of the deaths are buried as flight training accidents.

"We started flight testing in May of fifty-nine.  I'm aware of a total of four experimental," he waggles airquotes, "'aircraft.'  They used the cores to superheat air for propulsion - effectively, a jury-rigged scramjet.  The first two killed their crews on the first flights.  The third and fourth sorta worked.  The trick was teamwork.  We had to use one pilot to activate the core's antigravity function, a second to superheat, and a third to actually fly the aircraft.  Then you needed a flight engineer or two and a navigator.

"We only flew at night, over the Gulf.  The order was that if we had to crash a ship, to crash it at sea.  Less chance of a Roswell.  There was always a salvage ship on standby somewhere on the Gulf Coast if we had to recover a wreck.  Probably a couple of subs, too.

"They sent me back to the fleet at the end of sixty-one.  Out-processing from the squadron took about two months.  A lot of interviews to transfer what I knew, a lot of security stuff.  I was under observation until the eighties and I still had annual interviews with ONI."  He nods toward Vest.  "They're the ones who encouraged all the squadron alumni to retire to Florida.  All the survivors.  Nice financial incentives.  Most of us didn't need a lot of additional persuasion.

"They never said 'alien.'  Didn't need to and I imagine most of the spooks were pretty awkward with that subject."  He smiles wryly.  "But they were rather adamant about validating anyone who came around asking about the squadron.  So I stalled until I could talk to your shop."  He points to Commander Vest.

He leans back in his chair and eviscerates a ham and cheese biscuit, shredding the contents on a paper towel for the cat.  "That's the short version.  I imagine you have some more questions."
Karolina Kowalska
player, 176 posts
Captain, GROM
Spartan-117
Sun 13 Mar 2016
at 10:58
  • msg #75

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

As the Chief spoke about the control systems and the operators that had been lost, Lina's mind thought back to links to the first mission.  She parsed the operation, trying to find something that might have triggered the alien's current mission.  She glanced down a her laptop, looking through the files.  After a moment of reflection, Kowalska spoke.

"MOORETON SWALLOW."  It wasn't a question, as much as a statement.  "Chief, it sounds like the control system that your unit created was as much a kludge as anything.  On our first operation, we recovered embedded alien technology from one of the specimens.  I don't think we've ever had much luck figuring out what it's used for," Karolina looked up at the video array to see if any of the support teams had any better ideas about the device.

"If it's related to controlling the alien technology, that might offer some explanation as to why your cohort are being attacked."  Lina briefly considered STAPLETON TURKEY as a possible candidate as well, but the time line didn't match up.  The most likely explanation was something Grey Cell had encountered or done in Libya.
This message was last edited by the player at 10:59, Sun 13 Mar 2016.
Sebastien Durand
player, 301 posts
DGSE
Dave Ross
Sun 13 Mar 2016
at 13:59
  • msg #76

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

"It could also be something to do with the items that we recovered in Australia."  Durand had listened in silence to the Chief's revelations, now its forward, quite literally on the edge of his seat.  "Perhaps they are concerned that we have obtained something that would allow us to more effectively control these..." the Frenchman hesitates, for aircraft did not seem to the most appropriate word "...aircraft." He can't immediately think of a better one

"And so they are trying to neutralise those who may be able to use it - or at least advise others on how to use it." After all, Durand thought it unlikely that the Chief would be taking to the skies in an alien spacecraft again, but he clearly had the knowledge, and if that could be combined with the correct technology rather than some reverse engineered jury rigged solutions then it was possible that younger men could do the actual testing.

Which leads on to another question. "You've told us that you left the Squadron in Nineteen Sixty One Chief. Was the testing still going on when you left? And do you know what happened to the aircraft? Where they are now?" Durand's eyes flick back and forth between Paddon and Vest, the questions clearly addressed to both of them.
Hannah Omdahl
player, 154 posts
CWO2, U.S. Army
dcoda
Mon 14 Mar 2016
at 06:59
  • msg #77

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Hannah had started the meeting with a rather casual, if professional, demeanor.  She was nursing a tall travel mug full of black coffee and had only one bite left of one of the glazed fat pills that had been brought in.

But, the auburn-haired army pilot was sitting up straight and watching the elderly nuclear technician very closely when it became apparent that he'd had at least as much, if not a helluva a lot more, experience with alien technology than they had.  He'd actually worked on and used an extra-terrestrial propulsion drive; it took a few moment for that statement to settle in.

And it took a few more moments for the ramifications, political, technological, and social to further set in.  "Wow." is all that she could manage for a moment; talk about being one with your machine.  The others seemed to take the information dump much more in stride, but Hannah couldn't help it.  It just seemed so ... alien.

"Chief," she addressed Paddon more directly than the others with their personal musings.  Though Omdahl waited her turn, of course, as her question was much less technical (and she was interested in the answers to the questions about where and what capabilities the hybrid craft had) and a touch more personal, "of the three stations required to fly the craft, which did you have the most experience?  What sort of tests did you and your crew run?  I mean, how fast did you guys go?"  Double Down couldn't help but be curious as to whether he was power, plasma, or avionics and control - and whether that was by choice or not.  Her questions seemed to stem from both professional and personal curiosity.

And personally, Hannah really wanted to ask the man about purple-ish glows, as well.  But that could probably wait for a bit.
Michael Dacovetti
player, 211 posts
Tech Sgt, JSOC JCU
keys138
Tue 15 Mar 2016
at 20:35
  • msg #78

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

The data pours into Dacovetti's mind, each little piece breaking into several more questions, a fractal tree of knowledge and ignorance assembling into a random, if not beautiful, mental structure of 'what-ifs" and "holy shits."  That the government, or governments, have known about these intruders for decades doesn't come as a total shock, Michael does subscribe to the theory of total panic should the public ever find out about aliens in a less than complete manner, he is shocked that the secret has been so well maintained, that anyone leaking information has been so effectively labeled a kook or crazy.  There are questions he wants to ask that seem to have no bearing on the briefing other than trying to satisfy the teenager that still lives somewhere in the meat space between his ears, but instead, he tries to focus on the main points, understanding that they might be far enough out anyway.

"The alien craft that were recovered, is there any indication that they operated under the same flying conditions and technologies that your craft did, or did you bootstrap up a work around based on what you understood at the time."  Dacovetti pauses, tucks his empty styrofoam cup under one of the legs of his chair, then tries again.  "I guess, do there ships work the same as our ships? "  It is a surprisingly clear question from the tech nerd department.  "Did any of them show any apparent capacity for long range, as in interstellar, travel, or are we missing their base-slash-mothership?"

So many more question tumble through the airman's mind, the windows to a different future suddenly blown open.  Technologies to travel the stars are actually, possibly, in human hands.  The means to escape from a tiny little fragile existence on this tiny little blue speck.  If, the big if, they can get there shit together and deal with a possible alien invasion.  That extra bit of detail almost derails his enthusiasm, but not quite.  He's practically vibrating in his seat, and it isn't the coffee.

The question he doesn't ask, the one he most wants to, follows directly on the heel of Seb's last inquiry.  How long before I can get my grubby little hands on your stash, along with Crit, Jeannette, and the rest of the Green Cell?
Caradoc Crewe
NPC, 37 posts
Corporal, 21st SAS
Tue 15 Mar 2016
at 22:46
  • msg #79

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Crad stares meditatively at the guano-spattered beams holding up the hangar's roof.  "It's more accurate to say 'implanted' than 'embedded,' Captain," he muses to Karolina.  His eyes grow hungry.  "Chief, you said 'specimens.'  Did the squadron have access to any remains of the, uh, original crews?"  The addendum Or any captives hangs in the air over the table.
This message was last updated by the player at 22:46, Tue 15 Mar 2016.
Tegyrius
GM, 533 posts
Tue 15 Mar 2016
at 23:51
  • msg #80

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

On the satellite link, Mewes leans toward his camera.  "Senior Chief, I'm Group Captain Mewes, RAF.  I'm the commander of Task Force Forty-Seven.  Please allow me to open by thanking you for your work and your willingness to speak to us.  I know this can't be an easy conversation after so long."  He gestures toward the camera.  "Bearing that in mind, I believe Grey Cell is covering most of my own questions.  The only thing I'll add at this time is that yours is the first concrete testimony we've received regarding any prior official contact with our visitors or their technology.  Since we became aware of them, we've been assembling evidence of other recent encounters but the picture is still very incomplete.  Your government is compartmentalizing this information very tightly and I believe it's taken the deaths of several of your former colleagues to convince them to bring us into this far into the fold.  Please understand that I am not exaggerating when I say that any detail you can share with us, no matter how trivial, may make the difference between life and death for my people."  He sits back, arms folded in a rare display of simmering frustration. 

Vest blinks heavily and clears his throat.  "Group Commander, with respect, I'm the Pentagon's liaison to your task force and I'm not certain all the compartments are open to me.  Though I believe you've been trying to work through the Air Force.  Am I right?"

"Correct," Mewes replies.

Bannon leans over to Michael and, sotto voce and shielded from the camera, drawls, "Well, thar's yer problem."

Vest misses or ignores the aside.  "Sir, I think you'll have better results if you work through me in the future."  He smiles slightly, without apparent humor.  "I am authorized to state, on the record, that the U.S. Air Force - present company and other task force personnel excepted - is not cleared for any U.S. Navy program related to the subject under discussion."

Mewes exchanges a weighted glance with Major Bryant, and his eyes seem to seek out Bannon's in the screen.  "Thank you, Commander.  I'll take that under advisement.  Senior Chief, my apologies for the digression."

Paddon gazes thoughtfully at Vest and strokes his cat, then transfers his gaze to the camera.  "No problem, Sir.  I'm not surprised to hear the Chair Force isn't cleared for this.  Most of you weren't born at the time but consider the political environment we were working in.  Anything nuclear or space-related was a reason for some pretty bloody infighting between the services.

"Someone mind getting me a refill?  I'm under a cat here."

Caradoc, clearly the junior man in the room (as usual), rises with a suppressed sigh and takes Paddon's proffered cup.

"Thanks, Doc."  Paddon's fingertip scrolls down his notepad.  "Okay.  Timeline.  I don't officially know what happened after I got out.  Unofficially, over the course of my career, I ran into a few guys who'd been in when I left.  They were all out of the squadron by the end of '63.  We didn't talk about activities after I left but I got the feeling the operation was shut down at that time.  The commander probably has more complete data."

"Not as complete as I'd like."  Vest scratches his temple.  "My office is still in the records reconstruction business too and a lot of the information from that era was never committed to databases.  The only complete records I've been able to find are the Veterans' Administration medical records and they line up with your timeline.  All assignments to VO54 ended on December 10, 1963.  Which, probably not coincidentally, is the day the Air Force officially canceled its Dyna-Soar program.  There's a story there but I don't have it yet."  He grimaces in frustration.

Paddon nods and turns to Hannah.  "Miss, I was never a zipper-suited sun god."  He grins at her.  "I worked the most on the flight engineer's instrumentation.  After that, I was concerned with the guy in the superheater chair.  During test flights, I was in Mission Control monitoring telemetry from one of those stations or the reactor itself.

"Top speed was limited by the technology we had to work with.  We were competing with Oxcart for titanium and we didn't have computer modeling for aerodynamics.  The best speed I ever saw was Mach 3.6 and that was about two minutes before a catastrophic airframe failure.

"When I say 'specimens,' I mean the hardware.  Sorry, Doc.  No alien autopsies.  Though from the one intact crew station... let's just say I think there's some substance behind the movies.  Child-sized and more or less humanoid is my guess.

"The propulsion and controls were the most frustrating part.  There wasn't anything we'd recognize as an engine, just a bunch of solid-state crap around the place where the power core went.  No flight control surfaces, no intake, no exhaust.  There was a bunch of stuff that I think was life support but that was not my department."  His eyes grow distant.  "No shit, we broke at least two physicists while I was there.  One catatonic, the other psychotic.  Don't know where they wound up.  And the lab accident that killed the last radiation safety team... I didn't have the words at the time.  Now, I think the technobabble you'd want is 'gravitational anomaly.'"  He stares at Michael.  "Something flung the lab equipment at one end of the Finger straight forward.  Along with one guy's hand.  At about forty to fifty G's acceleration."
Michael Dacovetti
player, 212 posts
Tech Sgt, JSOC JCU
keys138
Thu 17 Mar 2016
at 21:16
  • msg #81

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


We're not just looking at gravitational distortion then, Michael's mind whispers to him, we're looking at something that can counter act 50Gs of acceleration, something ensuring material or flesh isn't ripped apart in the process. Unless one were unlucky enough to be caught in the path of a hypersonic object.  The airman's brain attempt, briefly, to calculate what space travel would look like at a sustained acceleration rate of 50Gs, to calculate how long it would take to get up to light speed before giving up the exercise as strictly theoretical.  Even at the speed of light their adversaries would be taking centuries, if not millennia, to arrive on earth.  Clearly they were breaking other long treasured physical constants in human physics.

"Can you tell us what the others were working on? Prior to murdering the Admiral, his attacker stated that he could sense, or smell to be exact, the presence of alien technology on him.  Any idea why?"  Dacovetti leans back in his chair, considers the abuse that his branch of service has taken in the briefing so far, and grins.  The TACPs have never been what you would call "enraptured" with the regular Air Force, sharing some of the disdain their brethren in the other services throw the wing wipers way, but he still bleed Air Force blue.  He turns his attention to Vest.

"Sir, I don't mean to imply that you haven't reached out, but where in the Pentagon is the Air Force presence for this information?  If the turf wars were as bad as the Senior Chief is implying and you're confirming, then they probably have more pieces of this puzzle locked away somewhere also.  Maybe even personnel that we need to identify for possible protection from alien threat.  I don't want to say Area 51, but, you know..." he lets the thought trail off into the silence of the room.
Sebastien Durand
player, 302 posts
DGSE
Dave Ross
Fri 18 Mar 2016
at 19:13
  • msg #82

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

When Paddon stops talking Durand glances down at the handwritten notes that cover the yellow legal pad on his lap, different parts either underlined or circled, including the first thing he wrote down, even before the Chief had started talking. He's hiding something??? The 'he' in question is Mewes, sitting thousands of miles away in Turkey. Something about the RAF officer's manner and demeanour has raised a red flag with the Frenchman, makes him think that the Englishman is keeping something from the others, although what that may be is another matter altogether.  That was not a subject for this meeting although he fully intended to follow up on that later with the others.

A momentary flash of anger goes through Durand's mind. Why the fuck does everyone seem to think that it is a good idea to send us into the field with half of the fucking information? The Frenchman knows all about compartmentalisation, the need to know, but they were the guys putting their necks on the line. Mind you, it seemed that the American Navy did not trust the American Air Force either.

"So everything got closed down at the end of 1963. Allegedly." Durand looks up from his notepad. The word dynosoar is circled and followed by several question marks. "That's a couple of years after the first manned space flights. Could that be linked?" He shrugs."And if the American Air Force and Navy are keeping things from each other who else is involved? The CIA? NASA?" Not to mention the Russians, the British, the French...
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 19:28, Fri 18 Mar 2016.
Tegyrius
GM, 534 posts
Sun 20 Mar 2016
at 15:01
  • msg #83

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Paddon's eyes widen at Michael's revelation.  "The admiral," he says slowly, "was one of the test pilots on Thing Three and Thing Four.  He's the only one I know of who survived and made flag rank.  If anyone would have been in a position to keep working on the project after the squadron shut down... or..." he hesitates.

"Or to have kept some of the research material??" Mewes asks.

Vest visibly suppresses a snap reaction, reconsiders, and emits a pained noise.  "Shit.  It is possible.  Admiral Frye consulted for a lot of defense contractors after he retired and he traveled out of the country more than we liked.  It wouldn't have been impossible for him to hide a small private project."  He turns to Michael.  "Sergeant, the Air Force lockout predates my own office's creation.  We were stood up during the Clinton administration.  Part of the in-brief for us is a standing order dating to 1957.  It's never been rescinded.  So I don't know what, if anything, the Air Force has on this."

"As the chief alluded to, 1963 is also when the SR-71 was in flight testing as the A-12," Mewes puts in.  "I won't say there's, ah, alien technology in the Blackbird - quite the contrary - but it's another piece of aerospace history in which the CIA was involved."  He frowns.  "If I recall, Dyna-Soar was an early spaceplane concept.  Among other things, it was designed as a space interceptor."

"If I may, sirs," Bannon puts in, "we're getting away from the current operation.  My people are developing some intel based on the senior chief's debrief and this discussion but we still have a bunch of alien motherfuckers out there killing our former sailors."
Karolina Kowalska
player, 177 posts
Captain, GROM
Spartan-117
Tue 22 Mar 2016
at 10:48
  • msg #84

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Lina threw enough shade at Mewes, after his disclaimer-cum-introduction, to shelter a small village in the Sahara.  She thought better of challenging the senior officer in this forum though and after a few seconds, returned her interest to the briefing at hand.  As she did so, she wondered if the whole of the United States Government operated this way - fragmented and with little coordination, each Department, Agency, and Branch a stove pipe of horded information and projects.

"Perhaps there's a parallel program and aliens are killing Air Force test personnel over whatever projects they had going on," Lina proffered, taking a dig at the concept of interservice rivalry while obliquely suggesting that the alien's may have a target list larger than Observation Squadron Fifty-Four.

"In any event, I think the Chief is correct," Lina said.  "Not you Chief, the other Chief," motioning between Bannon and Paddon to make sure that everyone knew she meant Bannon.  Karolina took a moment to suppress unkind thoughts about US ranks and DOD branch coordination.

"Chief, is there anything we might need to know that will help us save Ceelen, Hawkins, and Herrera?"  The Pole shifted two fingers to show she meant Paddon now.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:59, Tue 22 Mar 2016.
Tegyrius
GM, 536 posts
Thu 24 Mar 2016
at 23:13
  • msg #85

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Paddon adds a few wrinkles to his forehead.  "Lieutenant Ceelen was my immediate CO for the last bit of my assignment to the squadron.  He was in charge of all the flight telemetry.  If he remembers any of it, he's probably your best source of actual technical data.  Smart guy.  Coulda been a nuc but he was a claustrophobe.

"Herrera's name is familiar but I can't place him.  Hawkins is still a blank.  What were their ratings?"

"Herrera was an AW," Vest supplies.  "Uh, Aviation Warfare Systems Operator at the time," he elaborates for the rest of the room.  "He was a sensor operator on S-2s and S-3s.  Hawkins is listed as a cryppie."

"Huh."  Paddon cocks his head in thought.  "We didn't have any reason for ASW but Herrera might have jumped ratings.  Someone like that is going to be another twidget.  He might have flown on Thing Four as the navigator's assistant.  The radar set on that bird was a little," he waggles a hand, "eh.  Needy."

"Hawkins... sorry, folks, I have nothing.  We had a counter-intelligence group attached to us but that doesn't fit."
Hannah Omdahl
player, 155 posts
CWO2, U.S. Army
dcoda
Fri 25 Mar 2016
at 06:47
  • msg #86

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Hannah had been quiet for a while, trying to internalize everything being said.  Still, she looked more than a bit puzzled; which as Paddon had continued to try and explain things became an expression that was more troubled.

"I'm not sure that I understand, Chief," the auburn-haired pilot addressed the elder petty officer, "can you be more specific about the word, 'needy'?  You speak as if the thing were ... alive ..."  Double down didn't like the implications here.  Nor was she completely convinced that it was appropriate.

When the topic of other retired projects and personnel being in danger, she sighed.  Hannah had to stifle the word, Typical, that popped into her mind unbidden.  The lithe, army aviatrix frowned slightly, then ventured tentatively, "So, now we need to try and find and protect people that someone higher up from us is trying to deny ever existed and who may not want to be found?"  That seemed to be tall orders for anyone - even this group.  Hannah may not be the brightest bulb on the tree (even if she had a pretty good education), but that sounded like a stacked deck to her.
Sebastien Durand
player, 303 posts
DGSE
Dave Ross
Fri 25 Mar 2016
at 20:50
  • msg #87

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Durand drains what's left of a Styrofoam cup of coffee, looks over at Bannon and nods. "For sure, protecting the surviving veterans from the Attars has to be top priority." His fingers tap on the side of the cup. "Before we left Turkey it was proposed to bring all of the together in one place. Perhaps it is time that we revisit that option." The DGSE operator looks over at Vidry, his lips curling into a thin and humourless grin. "What do you think Christophe? You and the boys ready to kick some alien arse?"

Rising to his feet and placing the empty cup on a nearby table, the Frenchman turns to Kowalska. "Let's pull the veterans together. Have Mr Vest's people pick them up, bring them to a secure site. Here, or somewhere nearby. " He nods to Vidry again. "Put some American Marines on the perimeter and we'll provide close protection. If the Attars want to get at them they have to come through us. And we will fucking kill them." His words carry an air of steely determination.

"In the meantime, you guys can concentrate on finding out what you can about what the American Air Force does or does not know about all of this and whether any of their people are at risk." The Frenchman's head gives an almost imperceptible shake. Were the different American agencies purposely trying to keep secrets from each other or was it all a competition to see who could piss the highest.

"And something does not sit well with me about this Hawkins. We should pick him up now I think."
James Choi
player, 209 posts
Special Agt, FBI HRT
Raellus
Sat 26 Mar 2016
at 01:32
  • msg #88

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


James popped an Exedrin and washed it down with the dregs of his third cup of coffee of the meeting. He's no stranger to inter-service rivalries, even in matters of national security, but this Air Force-Navy, right-hand, left-hand keep-it-dark bullshit is making his head hurt. He doesn't think it's overstating the case to say that the survival of Homo Sapiens Sapiens may be at stake here. This stuff is fucking intergalactic. Time to change the subject, bring things back down to earth, to the present tense...

"I'm not bashing the local cops, but are they going to be able to really protect these guys? They have no idea what they could be up against and we can't exactly brief them. If the Attars come after any of our senior citizen friends, we're probably going to have blue blood on our hands too."

James isn't thrilled at the prospect of babysitting the Matlock crowd here in the Bat Cave but, at the moment, it seems to him to be the lesser of evils.

"If we're trying to draw the E.T.s out into the open, putting all of our eggs in one oh-so-tempting basket might be the way to do it. Then again, if the bad guys have some sort of heavy-duty, orbital death ray..."

Does he really need to finish the thought?

-
This message was last edited by the player at 17:57, Sat 26 Mar 2016.
Michael Dacovetti
player, 215 posts
Tech Sgt, JSOC JCU
keys138
Sun 27 Mar 2016
at 19:30
  • msg #89

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

"I agree with Agent Choi, but I don't see why we shouldn't play their game, either.  We need to redefine the theater of operations to suit our needs.  What about moving our prospective charges to an area we control, one of these air bases for example, but have them spread out enough that we could respond to an intrusion in force without being ground zero for an orbital kinetic kill weapon.  Or we can grab Hawkins, and I do mean us, and pull all of the others except one and use them as a draw.  While I admit the idea of using a retired military man as a lure for an interstellar asssination squad is distasteful at best, unless we can see our enemy operate or draw them to us, this is going to be an order of magnitude more difficult.".

It's a lot to take in and in line with one of Dacovetti's usual brain dumps.  The effort seems to almost embarrass the airman, and he carefully collects his styrofoam cup walking it to the coffee pot careful not to meet anyone's eyes, particularly Chief Paddon's since he just suggested selling out some of the man's former colleagues.
Tegyrius
GM, 552 posts
Sun 8 May 2016
at 21:33
  • msg #90

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Hawkins Residence
Homestead, Florida
10 June 2015
0815 hrs local (1315 hrs Zulu)

In a rare instance of serendipity, Darnell Hawkins' address of record is less than five miles from the hangar in which Amber Cell has set up the Cave.  Michael Dacovetti is pulling the team's archetypal black Suburban off Biscayne Drive into Hawkins' neighborhood when James Choi's phone buzzes against his hipbone.

"Dobroye utro, Special Agent," purrs Adriana Salcedo.  "You may be surprised to learn that Five Palms Laundry never made a stop at the nursing home yesterday.  Their truck was stolen while the driver was in a Starbucks.  It hasn't been recovered yet."  She pauses and there's a rattle of keys in the background.  "However, because I am much, much better than those assholes on CSI: Miami, I have ID'd both of our suspects.  The one with the tattoo is Grigori Polzin and his friend is Timofei Sokolov.  As you have no doubt deduced with your own keenly-honed profiling skills, they are associates of the Basmanyskaya, which is our local franchise of the Russian mafia."  Her voice loses its bantering tone.  "If you're likely to run into them, I'd really like to link up with you.  This isn't the first case in which they've been individuals of interest.  I'm emailing you their files now..."



Grand Bahama International Airport
Freeport, Bahamas
10 June 2015
0953 hrs local (1453 hrs Zulu)

The MH-60S grumbles softly to itself as Hannah Omdahl shuts down the engines.  In the copilot's seat, Barbrak Tarabi runs a practiced eye over the gauges and relaxes for the first time since the flight went "feet wet" forty minutes ago.

"Locals," observes Caporal Tristan Baudin from his position at the starboard gun.  He catches Karolina Kowalska's eye and tilts his helmet toward the adjacent hangar, where three armed and uniformed men stand in the building's shadow.

Caradoc Crewe pulls off his own helmet and steps away from the port M240 to peer over Baudin's shoulder.  "Royal Bahamas Police," he elaborates.  He causally tilts his phone toward the men, then nods to himself.  "Okay, thermally human.  Did we call ahead?"

"No, but we're using a Navy call sign," Barbrak puts in.  He twists in his seat to look back into the cabin.  "And we are an armed foreign aircraft.  I be surprised if no one meets us."

"Copy that.  Well, it's a small town and Ceelen lives only four miles away.  I don't think we're likely to get lost."  Crad raises an eyebrow at Hannah.  "How do you want to play this, ma'am?"  He cuts his eyes toward the police officers, who are now casually approaching the aircraft.



Map refresh: https://drive.google.com/open?...7_So&usp=sharing
This message was last edited by the GM at 11:24, Mon 09 May 2016.
Karolina Kowalska
player, 185 posts
Captain, GROM
Spartan-117
Mon 9 May 2016
at 19:18
  • msg #91

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Karolina taped away at her tablet, intently studying the display for a moment, then spoke.

"What if we tell them that we are headed to AUTEC - the Atlantic Undersea Test and Evaluation Center, on Andros island and we have been asked to stop and meet with Commander Ceelen en route.  Paperwork to read him out of a cleared compartment or some other admin tasks left open from his retirement.  We could have Vest contact the SDO or Naval Attaché at the Embassy to backstop the story in case the RBM asks through their channels," Lina suggested, as she read over the information  on the nassau.usembassy.gov website.  She looked up to see what the others thought.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/...nd_Evaluation_Center
This message was lightly edited by the player at 19:19, Mon 09 May 2016.
Michael Dacovetti
player, 221 posts
Tech Sgt, JSOC JCU
keys138
Mon 9 May 2016
at 22:23
  • msg #92

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


With Choi entering the profile of an agent of the law engaging in a possible discussion of unknown duration pertaining to their current mission objective, Michael takes the decisive action of pulling the government approved urban assault vehicle, SUV model, to the side of the road to await the outcome.  While his eyes alternate glances forward out the window and backwards via the rear view mirror, his fingers on the steering wheel tap out the electric drum beat to Head Like a Hole, although if pressed for a confession under duress, he would be forced to admit the beat keeps horrifically veering into the realms of the ear virus that is Call Me Maybe.  He prays, silently, that he isn't actually humming either song.

The air conditioner in the black suburban is doing it's valiant best to oppose the morning heat of the Florida sun, but Dacovetti can feel the heat coming through the windshield, promising a fusion fed scorcher of an afternoon.

"It seems the entire organized crime panoply has been co-opted by immigrant friends," he says quietly to the detective's revelations, ensuring that his voice is low enough not to be picked up by Choi's phone.  Perhaps I should ask uncle Carlo whether the families in New York have been seduced by little green men.  That would be quite an interesting conversation. The words "Russian Mafia," have their desired effect on Michael's brain, changing the threat parameters from contact possible to contact probable.  It's just been that kind of day.

Taking a quick break from Carly Rae, he slides his pistol out from its holster and tucks it under his leg.
James Choi
player, 214 posts
Special Agt, FBI HRT
Raellus
Wed 11 May 2016
at 01:43
  • msg #93

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


Detective Salcedo's CSI Miami crack elicits a smile. James had been working on a CSI/X-Files crossover pilot for some time now.

"Thanks, Lieutenant. If we bump into your Russians before you do, we'll be sure to let you know. We're, uh, pulling in at the residence of one of our hit-listees right now; I'll give you a call later, quid pro quo and liaising and all that. Bye." he hits the end call button and slides the phone into the inner pocket of his lightweight sport coat.

When the houses they built in the '70s finally fall...

These could be the suburbs Win Butler had been writing about. Peeling paint in dated colors, lawns running wild- a neighborhood inhabited by older folks that couldn't afford to retire and new families that didn't quite qualify as middle class. This particular dilapidated, palm-shaded bungalow could be hiding a Russian hit squad, or worse...

James considers asking Dacovetti to ring the doorbell, but dismisses the idea almost immediately. In his experience, veterans of pre Gulf I vintage didn't always hold 'orientals' in the highest regard. That said, under the rather particular circumstances, and with James' tac-ops experience, it would be criminally negligent for the HRT shooter not to take point. He preps the teams' only AR-15 (a loaner, no less) and leaves it propped against the passenger seat. His HRT custom .45 will suffice until such time as the shit hits the fan.

"Shall we give Mr. Hawkins a heads-up, make sure he doesn't already have any company?"

(OOC: The idea is to see if he's home and under any kind of duress. James doesn't want to go in cold.)

-
This message was last edited by the player at 20:03, Sun 22 May 2016.
Sebastien Durand
player, 316 posts
DGSE
Dave Ross
Wed 11 May 2016
at 16:10
  • msg #94

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

"I'll go round the back." Sébastien Durand says from the back seat of the SUV as it rolls to a halt outside Hawkins' home. "I'll give you one click on the radio when I'm in place." Opening the door, the French Intelligence Operative steps out into the clammy heat and looks at the house for a moment, trying to spot any cameras or other surveillance devices before he moves forward, hoping to be able to move around the house and get eyes on the back door in case anyone inside decides to use that way to make their exit when the others announce themselves.

His Glock 21 remains holstered for the moment, concealed under a black shirt worn loose over blue jeans, the sleeves rolled up, but conscious of the potential threat posed by former Russian Fed Special Forces who have decided to go down the road of private enterprise and work for the Russian mob, the Frenchman is ready to draw at a moment's notice as he tries to stealthily move into position.
James Choi
player, 217 posts
Special Agt, FBI HRT
Raellus
Thu 12 May 2016
at 23:44
  • msg #95

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


"Hey, Seb, hang on a second." James calls out to the departing Durant, prompting by the phone buzzing in his hand. He thumbed up the expected e-mail from Salcedo and opened the accompanying attachments.

"These are the hitmen that killed x- Russian mafia, according to the good detective." James reports, holding the phone up so that both Durant and Dacovetti can get a good look.  "I think it's safe to consider them both armed and extremely dangerous. Let's be on our toes here, shall we."

James put the phone on speaker and punched in Hawkins number.

One ringy-dingy, two ringy-dingies...

-
This message was last edited by the player at 19:43, Mon 25 July 2016.
Hannah Omdahl
player, 158 posts
CWO2, U.S. Army
dcoda
Sun 15 May 2016
at 19:04
  • msg #96

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Hannah watched the gauges on the seahawk carefully as she listened to the bird spin down.  Even with Barfight next to her, whom she trusted without question, Double Down still wanted her own eyes on the instruments during the standby checklist.  The auburn-haired army aviatrix gave Barbrak a 'thumbs-up' when everything seemed to check out on her end.  There was less worry on her side, since the labels were in English and not Russian...

She popped her visor and was unstrapping when AUTEC was mentioned by Karolina.  She'd didn't know much about the site - at least not much more than a couple of sentences - but, she'd been informed when they picked up the bird and mentioned their destination that they would need to keep their eyes open and plan accordingly as they would be near the site.

Dutifully, the avionics had picked up the beacon from AUTEC as a matter of course since they'd passed nearby (relatively speaking).  Hannah smiled slightly and nodded approvingly to the Kapitan's plan, "Sounds good, Ma'am.  Too bad we can't just drop this baby on his lawn..."  Double Down sounded (and was) more than confident that she could do it no matter how tight the spacing might be, "The cover story should work with the locals; we're going to need them to rely on them for transport to and from Ceelen's.  Question is, do we want them to actually escort us..."
Tegyrius
GM, 555 posts
Wed 18 May 2016
at 00:58
  • msg #97

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Homestead:

The neighborhood is slightly shopworn, a once-nice middle-class community now suffering from incomplete recovery after a few bad hurricanes.  From the frozen expressions of a few citizens on the street, the team's G-ride has already been identified as such.  There's no open hostility but James and Sébastien's respective street instincts pick up a slight ripple as people begin moving casually away.

The Hawkins residence is similarly down-at-the-heels, peeling paint dropping off the sides of the house into a yard that's a few days past needing to be mown.  A jeweled thicket of wind chimes sways under the front eaves, standing guard over a porch swing hanging from rusty chains.  A dark blue Ford Taurus squats in the semicircle of driveway; the amount of grime on its windows suggests it hasn't been driven for at least a week.

Michael keeps the SUV running for a quick getaway - or a quick counter-ambush charge, if that's what's needed.  His laptop, bungeed into a center console docking station made for a much lower-grade government machine, reports no WILDWOOD GROUSE emissions over south Florida.

James is about to give up when the phone rattles on the eighth ring.  There's a sound of fumbling and rustling, then:

"Helloo?"  The voice is elderly, wavering - and female.

Edging toward the back of the house, Sébastien is confronted with a chest-high white picket fence in the same general disrepair as the rest of the premises.  Beyond it, he can see a large utility shed amidst a backyard that's much better maintained than the home's street side.  Any further observation is interrupted by a thunderous bark as an immense black dog bursts from under a spreading shrub and hurls itself against the fence scant inches from the DGSE agent.

"Settle down out there!" the voice on the other end of the phone yells.  Sébastien can faintly hear the words through the nearest window.  The woman pulls the phone away from her mouth and coughs heavily.  "Hello?" she repeats.  "Is someone there?"



Freeport:

"Might be faster, ma'am, but it'd be a bit rough on the landscaping" Caradoc dryly responds to Hannah's comment.

Further banter is cut short as the lead Bahamian officer - the one without an MP-5 - steps up to the open side door, ducking under the slowing rotor arc with an ease suggesting long familiarity with helicopters.  He scans the cargo bay and grins widely, his well-trimmed beard splitting open to expose Hollywood-sparkling and even teeth.  "Permission to come aboard?" he calls, then pulls himself into the aircraft and moves to the cockpit at Barbrak's affirmative beckoning.

"Welcome to Freeport - ma'am," he adds as he realizes the pilot in the right seat is a woman.  "I'm Inspector Symonette with the Drug Enforcement Unit.  I assume we can dispense with the narcotics inspection for your flight.  How can we help the United States Navy today?"
Sebastien Durand
player, 317 posts
DGSE
Dave Ross
Wed 18 May 2016
at 21:04
  • msg #98

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Merde! Fucking dog! Durand only has a split second to weigh up his options.

Come clean, declare his presence, though not necessarily his purpose. Oui, bonjour Madame, please excuse me for sneaking around your yard. I am with French Intelligence and I am looking for aliens.

Or try and stay out of sight. After all, if nothing else it seemed unlikely that any Russian hitmen were loitering inside the house, although he doesn't think he can risk a radio transmission to alert the others of that fact if he wants to stay unobserved.

The Frenchman keeps moving, trying to keep his head down and use the fence to at least partly hide him as he moves in the direction of the shed, hoping that the occupant will think that the dog is barking at thin air.
James Choi
player, 219 posts
Special Agt, FBI HRT
Raellus
Thu 19 May 2016
at 02:15
  • msg #99

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


"Hello, Ma'am. This is Special Agent James Choi, Federal Bureau of Investigations. I was hoping to speak with Mr. Hawkins."

James doesn't want to assume too much. He hopes the old woman, presumably Mrs. Hawkins, isn't purposely running interference for her husband. He listens for sounds of perturbation or distress in her voice. The barking dog makes it difficult to hear, though.

-
This message was last edited by the player at 21:04, Sat 04 June 2016.
Karolina Kowalska
player, 186 posts
Captain, GROM
Spartan-117
Thu 19 May 2016
at 08:44
  • msg #100

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

"Good morning Inspector.  I am Captain Karolina Kowalska and this is Chief Warrant Officer Two Hannah Omdahl," Lina said, making quickly introductions as she shifted position in the cabin to let Symonette aboard.  When the DEU Officer asked about helping the Navy, Lina smiled and spoke.

"Thank you inspector.  We are stopping over on our way to AUTEC to locate a military retiree living here.  Someone in personnel dropped the ball and he left service without completing some paperwork for one of the NATO projects he was working on.  We'd like to clear that up and close out his file.  If the Bahamian Government would be so kind as to allow us to borrow some tarmac space for a few hours while we take care of the paperwork for Brussels, we'd be very appreciative."
Michael Dacovetti
player, 226 posts
Tech Sgt, JSOC JCU
keys138
Fri 20 May 2016
at 00:48
  • msg #101

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


As Choi deals with the female on the other end of the cellular signal, Michael sweeps the house and tries to build a mental model of Mr. Hawkins.  There is, unfortunately, very little to go on.  Name, rank, specialty, etc...  Nothing helpful to try and anticipate the man's actions so the best the airman can do is build a collection of badly justified assumptions.  Their prey(?), is geriatric, a specialist in a niche domain known to breed oddballs and unique thinkers.  And maybe a little technologically proficient, if not possibly a little out of date.  None of that information builds on the fact that their main source of intelligence has no idea who Hawkins actually is, which raises the factor of concern approximately one order of magnitude.

Instead of listening to the conversation, Dacovetti starts using the Mk I eyeball on their target house then the neighbors, looking for the security systems or electronic surprises he would put into place if he were paranoid or expecting trouble.  Not that there is any evidence that Hawkins is either.  No one like surprises and this situation raises the bad the feeling flag in a big way.
Tegyrius
GM, 557 posts
Sun 22 May 2016
at 20:57
  • msg #102

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Homestead:

"Who?  Mister Hawkins?  I'm sorry, young man, there's no one by that name here."  James can't detect any sign of distress or duress  but there was a slight hitch in her speech before her negation.  It may have been an innocent pause filler from an elderly woman who has to think about her response, or it may have been a well-practiced evasion.

Sébastien attempts to creep along the fence, and the dog - from its size and shape, he guesses it's some sort of Malinois - follows him.  The DGSE agent has met a few guard dogs in his time and this one isn't showing any signs of imminent attack.  In fact, it's no longer barking  and seems more hopeful that he'll play with it.  The fence creaks alarmingly as it stands on its hind legs and puts its full weight on the wood, but it makes no attempt to escape the confines of its yard.

As Sébastien moves along the fenceline, more of the back yard comes into view.  It's elaborately landscaped, with a semicircular brick walkway laid out around a large screened-in porch.  Various flowers and flowering bushes are arrayed around the walkway.  A few birdbaths and bird feeders are strategically placed to attract wildlife.  It's a surprising contrast to the apparent disrepair on the house's street side.

As he scans the front of the house, Michael can see no sign of an electronic perimeter.  On the other hand, the place shows several indicators of what he can only classify as defensive landscaping.  The plants beneath each window are thick and laden with thorns or razor-edged leaves, and the wind chimes and other decorations hanging from the eaves are impossible to avoid while forcing entry.  The glass has the telltale sheen of anti-shatter film - common enough here in hurricane country, but also effective against forced entry.



Freeport:

"Charmed," Inspector Symonette replies with a smile, offering his hand to Karolina and Hannah in turn.  "Can we arrange fueling or other ground services?  And do you need help locating this fellow and inflicting the perils of bureaucracy upon him?"
Sebastien Durand
player, 318 posts
DGSE
Dave Ross
Mon 23 May 2016
at 19:19
  • msg #103

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

After sneaking a peek over the fence Durand ducks back down again and keys his throat mic. "Lizard, Dealer, this is Bullfrog. Be aware, they have a guard dog. Looks like some sort of Belgian Shepherd." He wasn't sure of the exact breed, but it looked like some that he had seen the Police Nationale's anti terrorist units use in France. "We're all good. I think he wants to be my friend. Maybe he knows I am French." The others can probably hear the chuckle in the Frenchman's voice.

"I can't see anything out of the ordinary here. It all looks pretty orderly. No sign of any Russians. Or any one else. Just the dog. If you are making your move I'll try and keep him occupied, over." In other words he would try and rely on a Franco Belgian Union with the dog to stop it from attacking the Americans.
James Choi
player, 220 posts
Special Agt, FBI HRT
Raellus
Mon 23 May 2016
at 22:13
  • msg #104

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


James hit the mute button with his right thumb, keyed the throat mic with his left.

"She's hiding something."

Reversing the process, he continued to work not-Missus Hawkins.

"Ma'am, this is the address the Bureau has for Mr. Hawkins. I'm right outside in the driveway, could I perhaps meet you at your door, ask you a couple of questions? It'll only take a few minutes of your time."

-
This message was last edited by the player at 21:03, Sat 04 June 2016.
Michael Dacovetti
player, 227 posts
Tech Sgt, JSOC JCU
keys138
Wed 25 May 2016
at 01:20
  • msg #105

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


"No reason he wouldn't have adopted another identity," Dacovetti says softly.  Evaluating the fortress like landscaping of the domicile, Michael keys up his radio with what he suspects is superfulous information that he should probably share with his team anyway.

"Bullfrog, Dealer.  That house is a natural fortress on this side.  I assume our target is going to be armed."  He also assumes that an armed take down of a retired US Navy senior citizen in broad daylight kind of moves against the low profile nature Gray Cell has tried to portray.  Firefights in major world cities non-withstanding, of course.

"If she stalls again, drop the Task Force name and see if we can't provoke a response," Michael suggests lightly, trying hard not to sound condescending to the professional in police work seated in the SUV next to him.
Hannah Omdahl
player, 160 posts
CWO2, U.S. Army
dcoda
Wed 25 May 2016
at 06:09
  • msg #106

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Freeport:

Hannah delayed responding just enough to let Karolina answer the Bahamian DEU constable.  She feigned finishing up her post-flight checklist, though she listened intently to the two interacting.  Which is why she was able to take Symonette's hand without missing a beat, even though she'd ostensibly not been facing him.

The thin army aviatrix glanced at Barfight when refueling was mentioned, then her gaze returned to Dancer and the customs officer.  Double Down nodded curtly, "We will avail ourselves of a refueling, Inspector.  It would be greatly appreciated."  Hannah never refused gas; you never knew when you would need more - so, she'd always found it best to keep topped off, if possible.

She motioned to Barbrak to oversee the operation, though she knew it was likely unnecessary for her to do so.  She trusted him and knew that he was nearly as meticulous as she was about such things.  Hannah would have done it herself, but knew that for appearance sake, that she and the Kapitan would be required on the foray to rendezvous with Ceelen.

"We are going to need a car as well..." the auburn-haired pilot prompted off-hand as she slipped her custom Oakleys on, though Hannah paused to let Kowalska answer whether or not they need an escort to accompany them...
Karolina Kowalska
player, 186 posts
Captain, GROM
Spartan-117
Thu 26 May 2016
at 11:26
  • msg #107

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

"Yes, please," Lina said when Symonette offered to help locate Ceelen.  Lina had weighed her natural instinct to control and protect the information on their target against the value of having local assistance in confirming the address and perhaps local police data.  A number of the squadron had ended up in the hospital or morgue over the last few weeks.  Building a relationship with local authorities right from the start seemed prudent.

"Our retiree is Commander John W. Ceelen," Lina said, adding the address they had on file.  "Of course we aren't one-hundred precent sure our information is correct," she noted, hoping to elicit some assistance in verifying Ceelen's home of record.
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 11:26, Thu 26 May 2016.
Tegyrius
GM, 558 posts
Mon 30 May 2016
at 13:55
  • msg #108

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Homestead:

"Oh!  The Bureau?  Oh, my lord."  The woman inhales deeply.  "Well, since you're right here already... would you give me just a few minutes to make myself presentable?  I'm afraid I wasn't expecting company this morning and, well, I've just not quite put myself together yet."  Michael sees one of the curtains in the front of the house sway slightly and catches the silhouette of a round, dark face topped by white hair, sun glinting from thick glasses.  "Well, and there you are!  I'll be to the door in just a moment.  Just need to put my face on and start the coffee..."  There's an electronic chirp as she mutes the phone, then a distant shout of "Rufus!  Get your fuzzy butt in here!"

Around the side of the house, the Belgian gives Sébastien a look of canine resignation, then rebounds off the fence (which creaks alarmingly) and trots along the brick walkway and up the steps to the screened-in porch.  As the dog disappears from view, Sébastien hears footsteps inside the house, then the tones of someone rapidly dialing a phone.  Then the same woman's voice, much crisper than her conversation with James:

"Three-two-zero-eight, status Cherokee... fine, but make it snappy."  A pause.  "Yes.  I have a Special Agent James Choi from the FBI at my door.  He's asking about," a note of amusement enters her voice, "Mister Darnell Hawkins."  Another pause, this one slightly longer.  "Yes, I saw...  No, my eyes aren't what they used to be, honey.  Black Suburban, two men inside.  Government plates...  Yes, I know what they look like...  Oh?  They are?  All right...  Yes, I will."  She hangs up.  As her footsteps move away from the window, Sébastien hears the scrape of a drawer - and the soft metallic sounds of a revolver's cylinder being open, spun, and closed.



Freeport:

Symonette's smile broadens a bit as Karolina drops the name of the team's quarry.  "Ah, yes.  Commander Ceelen is known to me."  He shrugs expressively.  "It's nothing untoward.  I make it my business to know everyone in Freeport with a smuggler's boat."  He laughs.  "Not that he's ever crossed my desk.  Certainly, we can loan you a car.  I'll just need to see your travel orders and IDs."

He takes the assembled paperwork (compiled by a harried Amber Cell fixer just moments before takeoff) from Hannah and steps out of the helicopter.  He withdraws a cell phone from his pocket, dials, and pins it between ear and shoulder while inspecting the documents.  Within a couple of minutes, Hannah sees the familiar red-and-orange bulk of a fuel truck rolling toward the pad, and Barbrak jumps out to supervise the fueling process.

Symonette returns to the aircraft and hands the sheaf of papers and IDs up to Hannah.  "All is in order."  He glances over his shoulder and points to a gold Toyota sedan pulling through the security gate.  "Your wheels.  Not as nice as this," he raps his knuckles against the Knighthawk, "but also not as obviously official."  He grins.  "Do you need anything else?  Directions?  Escort?  Restaurant recommendations?  My cousin has a place by the marina..."
Sebastien Durand
player, 319 posts
DGSE
Dave Ross
Mon 30 May 2016
at 15:33
  • msg #109

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

At the sound of the revolver being readied Durand keys his mic rapidly. ”Gun! Repeat gun! I do not have any eyes on but female occupant is armed, sounds like a revolver. She’s just called someone, sounds like she’s received some sort of instructions. Gave code three two eight zero, status Cherokee. I do not know what is going on but she sounds like some sort of pro. Exercise extreme caution.”

His warning called in, Durand tries to process his own options. Whilst there’s an immediate temptation to draw his Glock, the fact that the woman appeared to be connected to someone else did not automatically make her hostile and he was all too well aware how easily this situation could rapidly spiral out of control. After all, he was the one sneaking around her back garden. He doubted if anyone was going to thank him for leaving a corpse in his wake. And then there was the matter of the dog. Whilst she had called it into the house, it could easily reappear if he tried to effect a covert entry. And he didn’t particularly relish shooting it either.

However, he can’t leave his team mates without back up. The DGSE operator eases his Glock from the holster clipped to his belt, slowly, carefully, holds it in both hands as he raises his head over the fence, taking in the landscaped gardens, trying to ascertain where the best cover is as he keys his throat mic again. ”Let me know if you are going to move in and I’ll move up to the back door.” Worst case scenario if the woman or the dog heard him it might distract their attention from Dealer and the Lizard King.
Michael Dacovetti
player, 228 posts
Tech Sgt, JSOC JCU
keys138
Mon 30 May 2016
at 16:54
  • msg #110

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

The face at the window forces Dacovetti to force down the illogical urge to wave.  The action just seems like some cross pollination of politeness and irony at the whole situation.  Then Seb's report comes crashing through the radio network, bringing focus and urgency to their situation.

"Kill the speaker phone," Michael says quietly to Choi before pulling out his own cell phone and punching the phone number in for Foundation.

"Dealer here.  The resident of the target home just called someone with code and status update.  Code three two eight zero with a status of Cherokee.  Someone plugged in to this situation knows something, watch for flags.  Also, ask the Chief if there was perhaps a woman working with the squadron with a name like Darnell?  Danielle?"  He clicks the phone shut and turns his attention back to Choi without his eyes leaving the house.

"Give her the time or seize the initiative?  This is your playhouse."  The very last thing he wanted to experience was getting shot by a little old lady in South Florida.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:05, Mon 30 May 2016.
Tegyrius
GM, 560 posts
Mon 30 May 2016
at 21:39
  • msg #111

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Michael's phone vibrates with two text messages from Bannon:

Chief says there were women in sqn. admin section. No chicks in aircrew or tech in 50s.

Check-in was not repeat NOT with Vest's office.
James Choi
player, 223 posts
Special Agt, FBI HRT
Raellus
Tue 31 May 2016
at 15:55
  • msg #112

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


James wondered if the Surburban's windshield could stop a bullet,"I'd prefer not to shoot or get shot by a little old lady today. Let's play conservative."

James unmuted his phone and returned the serve, keying his throat mic so that Seb could listen in, "Look ma'am, we know you just called someone to verify who we are with a status code.  This is clearly not your first rodeo, and it ain't ours either. Let's have a nice civil chat over lemonade on your back porch where your neighbors can see us or we're going to call the police and tell them you threatened us with a big ol' revolver, and we'll all have to continue this conversation somewhere much less comfortable. Without lemonade. It's your call."

-
This message was last edited by the player at 21:03, Sat 04 June 2016.
Sebastien Durand
player, 322 posts
DGSE
Dave Ross
Tue 31 May 2016
at 16:14
  • msg #113

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Durand continues to watch the back door as he listens to the next part of Choi’s conversation, his Glock held in both hands, ready to challenge the woman inside the house if she decides to try and make an exit out the back rather than take the Lizard King up on his invitation.
Karolina Kowalska
player, 187 posts
Captain, GROM
Spartan-117
Fri 3 Jun 2016
at 06:03
  • msg #114

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

"I think we are all set for now, but in case anything comes up, perhaps we could exchange numbers?" Lina says.  She pulls out her phone and inputs the Inspector's details and offers him her number.  Kowalska concluded with a handshake and a genuine smile. Symonette had already been extremely helpful and would have a permeant place in her electronic Rolodex.

Turning her attention to the Toyota, Lina nods to Hannah as the pair set off toward the gold sedan.  As the driver stepped out, Lina realized that the inspector had said 'loan a car', but hadn't mentioned anything about a driver.

"Hannah, if you don't mind," Karolina said somewhat sheepishly, as she tilted her head toward the driver's seat.  Growing up with only public transportation had left the Polish Officer's driving skills somewhat lacking.  It was something she had been working to overcome and thanks to the advanced driving courses she had been taking in Incirlik, she had made up lost ground.  Still, Lina knew she wasn't in the same league as her team's resident aviator.
This message was last edited by the player at 06:09, Fri 03 June 2016.
Hannah Omdahl
player, 161 posts
CWO2, U.S. Army
dcoda
Fri 3 Jun 2016
at 06:38
  • msg #115

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Hannah looked as though she were about to take up the inspector on his restaurant recommendation, but instead was interrupted.  She nodded curtly to Dancer.  "Of course, ma'am." the auburn-haired aviatrix readily agreed with the Polish captain.

She slid easily into the driver's seat on the gold sedan and casually surveyed the layout of the instrument console.  After a couple of seconds, Double Down seemed satisfied and after buckling up herself, she waited for Karolina to finish strapping in.

A simple turn of the key and the engine hummed to life.  It wasn't quite the precision sound of a custom BMW motorcycle, but it was sound engineering nonetheless.  Just of the Japanese variety.  And fairly well-maintained.

Rolling down the window of the Toyota, Hannah addressed Symonette once more.  "The quickest way would be through that gate, presumably?" she prompted, gesturing towards where the car had first entered.  She had their papers and her credentials easily accessible, as she knew that they would likely have to present them one more time - no matter how perfunctory the check was.
Tegyrius
GM, 561 posts
Sat 4 Jun 2016
at 21:00
  • msg #116

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Homestead:

The line is silent for a long moment, then the woman exhales a dry chuckle.  "All right, Special Agent James Choi.  Why don't you roll down that window so I can see if you look like the file photo that a nice young lady in Washington is texting me.  If you are you, I'll put this hand-cannon away and we'll have fifteen minutes before I have to make another phone call.  But I do need to put on the coffee."



Freeport:

Sea air and time have done the Toyota's bodywork no favors but the interior is clean and the V-6 is quietly eager to go.  Hannah pulls out of the airport, following Symonette's directions.  In light traffic, it's a ten-minute drive to John Ceelen's house, a vegetation-shrouded bungalow in a sleepy, overgrown neighborhood that was upscale ten years ago.  The smell of the sea is heavy in the air - Ceelen's street is only three blocks from a marina.

There's no answer at the door, nor at the phone number listed for Ceelen.  While Hannah keeps watch in front of the house, Karolina and Caradoc check the premises.  The cracked concrete driveway is empty, but Hannah catches sight of an oil stain indicating that something with a minor leak dwells here.  In back, a vintage Land Rover is parked beside a trailer which bears a small fiberglass sailboat.  There's no sign of forced entry, hasty departure, or violence.

Karolina is contemplating the lock on the patio door (and Caradoc is contemplating the wet bar beside the in-ground pool) when her phone rings.  It's Symonette, his voice agitated over engine and siren noise.  "Captain!  Where are you?  There's been a shooting at the marina!"

In the distance, the agents can hear more sirens converging on the area - and the faint popping of gunfire.
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:01, Sat 04 June 2016.
James Choi
player, 224 posts
Special Agt, FBI HRT
Raellus
Sat 4 Jun 2016
at 21:13
  • msg #117

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


"Fair enough." James smiles, in spite of himself. Muting the phone he slurs in a bad Humphrey Bogart, "This dame's got moxie in spades."

James swaps the phone for his Bureau credentials. His right hand never leaves the custom grip of his HRT Colt .45. He presses the window control button with the middle finger of his left. As the window slides down, he faces the front door and smiles, flanking his hopefully disarmingly friendly mug with FBI badge and ID, pistol held at the ready below the window frame all the while.

-
This message was last edited by the player at 22:49, Sat 04 June 2016.
Karolina Kowalska
player, 188 posts
Captain, GROM
Spartan-117
Mon 6 Jun 2016
at 14:04
  • msg #118

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

"We're outside Ceelen's house right now inspector," Lina answered.  As the shots rang out, Lina instinctively oriented herself on the sound and motioned for Caradoc to take up position on the most likely approach.  Cognizant that her team might be at the potential terminus of a running firefight, Lina shimmied off her backpack and fished out the headset for her tac radio while turning the 710 on.  Keeping the cellphone wedged between her ear and her shoulder, she also drew out the Wasp and slid it into her waistpack, side-by-side with the Glock.  After some juggling, Lina managed to come up on comms with the 710 in one ear and cell phone pressed to the other.  Ready to shoot move and communicate, Lina dashed to the Toyota, motioning for Crad to follow her.  She spoke quickly to Crewe and Omdahl.

"Symonette confirms gunfire at the marina.  It's only three blocks, so Painter and I will move on foot to that location.  Hannah rendezvous with the vehicle.  Weapons concealed but be ready.  I'll ID targets with the thermals if it comes to that.  Unless there are questions, let's move," Lina said, careful to mute the cellphone during the brief confab.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:05, Mon 06 June 2016.
Sebastien Durand
player, 323 posts
DGSE
Dave Ross
Mon 6 Jun 2016
at 18:45
  • msg #119

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Still listening in over the open mic channel, Durand has no clue what 'moxie in spades' refers to, although he knows it's not Choi's duress code and he has heard enough to realise that the situation appeared to be unlikely to go kinetic, which the Frenchman was quite pleased about, for he really hadn't relished the idea of potentially having to shoot the dog.

His Glock remains held in both hands though, his head in constant motion as he alternates between glancing over the fence to make sure that no one was coming out the back door and looking around the neighbourhood looking out for any suspicious - and armed - residents who might be perturbed to see an armed man sneaking around one of their neighbours' back yard.
Michael Dacovetti
player, 231 posts
Tech Sgt, JSOC JCU
keys138
Mon 6 Jun 2016
at 19:29
  • msg #120

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

"Maybe she's hiding the Maltese fFlcon.  Or she's one of the 'top men' guarding the Arc of the Covenant.  Would it be polite for me to wave as well?" Dacovetti asks, half seriously.  If pressed, he could probably bring one hand up into an approximation of politeness.  True polite interaction is hindered by the fact that he is still partially expecting to be suddenly engaged in a running gun battle with mafia/spetsnaz who could, if legend is to be believed, rappel from a clear blue sky and conduct ultraviolent operations.  Or drive up in another SUV, guns blazing.  In either case, the airman is not relaxing his guard, not yet.
Hannah Omdahl
player, 162 posts
CWO2, U.S. Army
dcoda
Tue 7 Jun 2016
at 08:25
  • msg #121

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

"On it." Hannah intoned into her headset after a few seconds of working to get it in place.  Her pistol and belt-clip holster was pulled from her sling bag and slipped in to a more convenient spot within easy reach under the single strap bag that it had just come out of.  "Do we have permission to engage, Kapitan?" she prompted, knowing how dynamic the situation was likely to become.

Double Down had kept the engine running on the car.  She eased the gold Toyota back into the middle street and then gunned the engine making a beeline towards the Marina down Seven Hills.  She narrated her path to her teammates to make sure that they were aware of her position and status.

Hannah also kept an eye of for the authorities as well as anything out of the ordinary ... like anyone she recognized fleeing the scene.  As usual, the auburn-haired driver's best weapon was not the Glock on the passenger seat; it was the four-wheeled beast that she was driving.  Double Down still trusted her piloting instincts much more than her shooting skill when push came to shove.
Karolina Kowalska
player, 189 posts
Captain, GROM
Spartan-117
Tue 7 Jun 2016
at 14:37
  • msg #122

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

"With the understanding that we have covertly brought weapons to a foreign country and that we may be engaged by local police or military forces if we need to use them, ROE will be as follows: we will engaged verified extraterrestrial targets and follow the rules of self-protection for combatant personnel," Lina said.  The extraterrestrial caveat was new, the rest the unit had briefed on in Turkey:

(U) Rules of Self-Protection for all Soldiers.
  (U) NATO Forces will protect themselves from threats of death or serious bodily harm. Deadly force may be used to defend your life, the life of another NATO soldier, or the life of persons in areas under NATO control. You are authorized to use deadly force in self-defense when -
    (U) You are fired upon.
    (U) Armed elements, mobs, and/or rioters threaten human life.
    (U) There is a clear demonstration of hostile intent in your presence.

(U) Hostile intent of opposing forces can be determined by unit leaders or individual soldiers if their leaders are not present. Hostile intent is the threat of imminent use of force against NATO forces or other persons in those areas under the control of NATO forces. Factors you may consider include--
   (U) Weapons: Are they present? What types?
   (U) Size of the opposing force.
   (U) If weapons are present, the manner in which they are displayed; that is, are they being aimed? Are the weapons part of a firing position?
   (U) How did the opposing force respond to the NATO forces?
   (U) How does the force act toward unarmed civilians?
   (U) Other aggressive actions.

Tegyrius
GM, 562 posts
Tue 7 Jun 2016
at 15:51
  • msg #123

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Homestead:

The curtain at the window beside the door sways slightly.  James and Michael tense at the glint of reflected sunlight - but the source is a pair of binoculars, not a weapon or a rifle optic.

"Well, and there you are," the woman says.  The curtain falls back into place.  "Come on in, why don't you.  And tell your partner he's invited, too.  I wouldn't leave a dog nor a federal agent in a hot car."

As James and Michael approach the house, they hear the faint click of deadbolts unlatching.  The door swings open to reveal a wizened, mahogany-skinned woman peering up at them over thick bifocals.  Her wispy gray hair is mostly covered by a yellow kerchief that matches her flower-printed sundress.  Her hands are laden with jewelry but devoid of any "hand-cannon."

"Special Agent James Choi.  It's a pleasure to meet you."  Her face is stern but a hint of a smirk lurks at the corners of her eyes.  "And you too, young man, whoever-you-are," she adds to Michael.  She turns and leads the way toward the back of the house.  As the agents follow her, they pass the open door of what appears to be a home office.  Two walls are lined with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves filled with books in at least a dozen languages.  A massive, baroque desk overlooks the side window where Sébastien has been lurking; it bears an antique manual typewriter next to a large-screen iMac.

In the kitchen, a massive black dog sits attentively.  It raises its head and gives an interrogative whurfle as the agents enter.  The woman absently scritches it behind its ears in passing, then washes her hands in the sink before measuring a scoop of beans into a hand-cranked coffee grinder.

"Well, James." she says over the clatter of the grinder, "what brings the Bureau out today?"



Freeport:

Hannah spins the borrowed Toyota around and roars down Seven Hills, outdistancing Karolina and Caradoc in seconds.  Two police SUVs blast past down Bahama Reef Boulevard, heading northeast.  Hannah's about to pull out and tuck in behind them but some glimmer of intuition sends her the opposite direction and onto a dead-end street built along one of the harbor's other fingers of land.  She pulls around a small office strip and into the building's back parking lot, from which she has a clear view of the marina a quarter-mile away.

As Hannah watches, a low-slung blue-and-gold powerboat pulls out of its slip at an irresponsibly high acceleration.  The lone occupant is hunched down behind the canopy, ducking gunfire from two men with Kalashnikovs who are running down the quay toward the boat.  Their marksmanship is inadequate to the task - the boat roars toward Hannah, making the turn that will lead to the open ocean.

Meanwhile, Karolina and Caradoc sprint in the wake of the police response.  As they cut through a yard and emerge onto Bahama Reef, they can see a gaggle of local cops pinned down behind a trio of marked vehicles.  A clatter of rifle fire comes from the area of the marina, forcing the officers back behind their vehicles.  Two pop up to return fire with their sidearms but the firepower the unknown aggressors are bringing to bear is a clear overmatch.

Map update: https://www.google.com/maps/d/...-ai0LEZukAYXi8pE7_So
Hannah Omdahl
player, 163 posts
CWO2, U.S. Army
dcoda
Wed 8 Jun 2016
at 06:25
  • msg #124

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Hannah idled the engine of the Toyota, her foot on the brake as she watched from the jetty on the opposite side of the small harbor.  The lithe army aviatrix grimaced.  "Dancer, Painter," she growled into the microphone on the boom the mirrored her jawline, "I'm at the far side of the marina.  I've got eyes on a powerboat fleeing the scene with an unarmed individual..."  She racked her brain to see if she there had been any type of service photo of Celeen to know if the fleeing individual (or one of the shooters) was their target.

She lapsed into silence for a moment to watch the firefight unfolding, then gave Kowalska and Crewe her assessment, "Ma'am, I believe that there are two men with AK's on the dock are firing at the fleeing boat.  I do not see any local enforcement presence in the water to intercept."

"I'll see if I can check the thermals..." she narrated as she thought about the thermographic optics in her sling bag.  Double Down patted out the pistol on the passenger seat - then pulled the thermal sight from her bag.  She tried to keep a low profile as she did so; hoping that the sight might be mistaken for some some sort of telephoto lens - if one didn't look too close.  It was to bad that Amber Cell hadn't been able to get what Dealer had wanted - scaled-down thermally sensitive optics placed on all Grey Cell firearms, including pistols, prior to this encounter.

Armed with the knowledge of whether anyone - the shooter or the shootee - was no human, Hannah would be able to tell if she needed to consider doing something rash...
This message was last edited by the player at 08:25, Thu 09 June 2016.
James Choi
player, 225 posts
Special Agt, FBI HRT
Raellus
Thu 9 Jun 2016
at 01:31
  • msg #125

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

James quietly takes a deep breath while the old woman finishes putting on the coffee. "It seems you have us at a disadvantage ma'am. You know who we are, but you haven't introduced yourself yet. We were expecting a Mrs. Hawkins, perhaps?"

No response. James waits for the old woman to face him before continuing,

"As you already know, we're here today looking for a Mr.  Darnell Hawkins." Miss Moxie hasn't yet dropped the charade, so James goes on, proceeding at a deliberate, measured pace, all-the-while watching the old woman carefully and noting any micro expressions she makes (and when she makes them).

"We have solid intelligence strongly suggesting that Mr. Hawkins has been targeted for assassination by a very well-connected foreign terrorist group. Some of Mr. Hawkins former coworkers- teammates from his Navy days- have already been murdered. We're not sure exactly why, but we think it has something to do with some experimental aircraft Mr. Hawkins may have helped test back in the '50s. It's of the utmost importance that we get in touch with Mr. Hawkins immediately. There's really no time to waste."

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:22, Sun 17 July 2016.
Michael Dacovetti
player, 232 posts
Tech Sgt, JSOC JCU
keys138
Thu 9 Jun 2016
at 19:31
  • msg #126

Re: [IC] Chapter Three



Being relatively oblivious to some social norms, Dacovetti lingers for a moment or two running his eyes over the volumes contained on the bookcases, lifting his sunglasses up to the top of his head.  The airman is a believer in the theory of you are what you read and he would like to develop some sort of working theory on the person who lives in this home.  His eyes also sweep for any evidence of another person in the home, pictures, a different pair of shoes, etc...  The urban fortress chic is subdued, but someone here clearly is prepared for trouble, and if it isn't the woman preparing him coffee, Michael would like to know who it is.  Finally, he shows up in the kitchen a bit later than his FBI partner, but early enough to pick up the agent's answer to the woman's question.

Instead of partaking in the conversation and introducing himself, Michael continues his observation, watching carefully for Seb without trying to tip his presence, letting Choi do his thing.
Karolina Kowalska
player, 191 posts
Captain, GROM
Spartan-117
Thu 9 Jun 2016
at 19:54
  • msg #127

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Lina spoke into her tac radio, hoping the request would relay all the way back to Incrilik.  "Foundation, this is Dancer.  I need priority overhead tracking on a powerboat moving at speed away from our location.  Dancer out."  Kowalska ended the transmission with a channel clearing out, so she could communicate next with Hannah.

"Double Down, see if you can get smartphone thermals on the target.  If friendly, wave it down.  Double back to the helo if they don't stop and we'll try for a air-water intercept, how copy over?" Lina said.  The Polish Officer motioned for Crad to take the right flank as she continued to trot toward the marina.  As they passed a house to the left, Lina pulled the Wasp from her waistpack and scanned the available targets with the offset thermal sight.


Carolina Smith
Radio Comms
Moving ESE past the house/apartment toward water
Pulling Colt Wasp to observe targets.  No fire.

This message was last edited by the player at 19:54, Thu 09 June 2016.
Sebastien Durand
player, 326 posts
DGSE
Dave Ross
Fri 10 Jun 2016
at 15:40
  • msg #128

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Reaching the conclusion that there doesn’t appear to be any immediate threat of a gunfight breaking out and aware that holding a weapon might attract its own unwelcome attention, Durand carefully eases his Glock back into the holster that is at least partly concealed by his shirt and considers his options.

Given the way that events were unfolding, it now seemed unlikely, although far from impossible, that anyone was going to come running out of the back of the house in an attempt to evade Choi and Dacovetti, whereas with both of them now in the house no one was watching the front. However it appeared that the woman was still unaware of his presence, which could give them a tactical advantage that he would lose if he went back to the car and hung around there whilst the others were inside.

”Dealer, Lizard King, maintaining position at the back. Bullfrog out.” Durand then remains crouched down behind the fence, continuing to hope that no curious neighbours appear.
Tegyrius
GM, 566 posts
Sun 17 Jul 2016
at 20:29
  • msg #129

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Freeport:

As Hannah powers up her thermal imager, the two men with AKs skid to a stop at the edge of the quay, take up supported positions, and open fire on the fleeing cigarette boat.  Their marksmanship is a cut above that of the usual insurgent - they're firing single aimed shots, and the fountains erupting around the boat are testimony to their skill.  Hannah sees a few rounds connect with the boat's stern but there's no immediate sign of critical damage.

Thermally, both the shooters and the boat's single occupant are within the normal human range.  Hannah glances up from the imager's screen as the boat makes the turn into the outbound channel.  At a closest point of approach of 150 meters, it's difficult to be certain, but the coxswain does resemble Ceelen's passport photo.  He's also flogging his engines for all they're worth - as he passes Hannah's position, his course is almost a straight line out past the jetty to the sea, and he's swiftly building speed.

"Three minutes for preflight," Barbrak advises over the radio.

Lina and Caradoc move to the sound of gunfire, rounding the corner of a row of townhouses and emerging onto another arm of the marina.  The gunmen firing on the speedboat are visible across the water (and through a small thicket of masts), about 120 meters away.  As Caradoc braces on the trunk of a Mercedes and begins lining up a shot, the two men cease fire and sprint southeast along the quay toward a nearby jetty.  As they round the corner to exit Lina's line of sight, the roar of another speedboat firing up its engines can be heard.  The sound of gunfire continues from beyond the next row of townhouses, but its tempo is changing.  To Lina's experienced ear, two or three someones with more Kalashnikovs are performing bounding movement and suppressive fire.

"Dancer, Nemesis," Bannon growls in Lina's earpiece.  "Twenty minutes for overhead coverage that can track a small, fast target.  There's a Coast Guard cutter in your vicinity with a helo on board.  Do you want them to launch for an intercept, over."




Homestead:

As Michael scans the home office, he notes that the bookshelves are neatly grouped by language and labeled.  There's a distinct bias toward tongues spoken in nations that have been of interest to American intelligence services since the early Cold War: half a dozen Slavic languages, Korean, Farsi, Arabic... Hausa?  From the few spines he can read, it's an eclectic mix of dictionaries, literature, and technical documentation.  He's fairly certain that's an original maintenance manual for the Mi-24 in the middle of the Russian shelf.  The iMac also features a high-end programmable keyboard, strongly suggesting that the office's occupant has frequent need of characters not found in the usual QWERTY array.

It takes him a moment to grasp the shape of the missing puzzle piece.  There's a conspicuous absence of any sort of diplomas, credentials, or photos.  The contents and layout scream "working academic" but it's bereft of the usual assortment of framed memorabilia.

In the kitchen, the agents' hostess listens to James' pitch with an impressive poker face.  She lets silence hang for perhaps ten seconds, then draws a deep breath.



Her words are comprehensible, but underlying them is a snarling hiss like the rustle of a thousand insects' wings.  It's not a construction that should ever come from a human vocal apparatus.  James and Michael both experience a dizzying momentary dissonance, as if their speech centers aren't entirely adapted to the syllables the woman is shaping.  The dog whimpers and draws back into a corner.  Outside, Sébastien catches just enough of the conversation for his head to flare in sudden migraine pain that's gone as quickly as it arrived.

The woman watches James' face carefully, then relaxes.  To the FBI agent, it's as if she was waiting for any hint of recognition at her speech.  She coughs once, wincing as if it pains her.  When she speaks again, her voice is without any hint of the incomprehensible grammar she just unleashed.  "Darnell was a ladies' name when I was born," she admits.  "As for the Navy... you have my undivided attention, young man."
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:30, Sun 17 July 2016.
Michael Dacovetti
player, 233 posts
Tech Sgt, JSOC JCU
keys138
Tue 19 Jul 2016
at 00:49
  • msg #130

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

The linguistic comprehension centers of Michael's brain draw a sudden BSOD then go into a reboot cycle that causes the logic circuits in his brain to misfire for perhaps two critical seconds while the woman in front of the Air Force/FBI duo composes herself.  Neurons explode and Dacovetti goes into verbal hypothesis mode, eschewing subtlety for the expedience of direct conjecture in the face of ongoing operations.

"Your book shelf ma'am.  You have a collection of the single most difficult languages on the planet.  Or perhaps more precisely, the difficult languages pertaining to Cold War operations.  With your reading selection, I assume that your ability to decipher technological information is quite advanced.  The iMac keyboard is custom, so it is safe to conclude you're still consulting or at least really into internet chat rooms across the globe.

"It would be insulting at best for me to imply that I understand your experiences." Dacovetti says in relation to the lack of degrees.  Given the time frame that Ms Hawkins would have been looking for degrees, they had probably been simply unavailable.  Until someone took a chance or she somehow identified herself. "May I ask, ma'am, if you are self taught?  A natural linguist of ferocious talent and intellect?

"I am forced, in the interest of honesty, to admit that I am at a loss to what exactly the Hausa language is."

Michael blinks as the others turn to him.  "Oh. Technical Sergeant Michael Dacovetti.  United States Air Force.  Sorry."

He leaves off, for now, the final assumption he wants to voice: you know why we are here and you speak their language.
Sebastien Durand
player, 327 posts
DGSE
Dave Ross
Tue 19 Jul 2016
at 18:45
  • msg #131

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Durand winces briefly at the sudden, sharp pain in his skull that hits him without warning then dissipates almost as quickly as it came. The Frenchman rubs his temple with the index and middle fingers of his right hand as he continues to watch the back of the house and tries to process what he has just heard. The words had been comprehensible enough, but spoken in a manner that he has never heard before.

The DGSE operator wonders for a moment whether they might be the precursor to some sort of attack on Dacovetti and Choi but nothing untoward appears to have happened in the house, at least nothing that he can discern, and what he can hear over the radio doesn't appear to be any cause for alarm and so he relaxes slightly, holds position, continues to watch the back of the house, with occasional glances up and down the street, just in case any other interested parties decide to pay a visit. All things considered, the Frenchman reflects, he's been holed in considerably worse OP's than this for far longer before, so he's quite content to wait it out and see what happens.
James Choi
player, 230 posts
Special Agt, FBI HRT
Raellus
Tue 19 Jul 2016
at 23:28
  • msg #132

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


Gawdamn blush response, James chides himself. He's always prided himself on his poker face and his progressive worldview, but the good Miss Darnelle Hawkins had just taken a sharp tongue to both of those bubbles.

"I beg your pardon, ma'am. Your personnel file failed to specify your, er, gender. We'd be better prepared if this meeting wasn't so urgent."

He'd almost shot the old lady- when that grating, dial-up modem sound had first come out of her mouth, he'd almost shot her. His finger is still poised on the custom match-grade trigger of his HRT Colt .45, currently cradled in his lap, under the hanging edge of the faded, floral pattern table-cloth. This assignment is making him jumpy. He slowly takes a deep breath, careful not to exhale too loudly. He's just grateful that Mike has taken the lead on the interview. Observing carefully, James takes the opportunity to get his shit together.

-
This message was last edited by the player at 16:51, Thu 21 July 2016.
Karolina Kowalska
player, 192 posts
Captain, GROM
Spartan-117
Wed 20 Jul 2016
at 18:00
  • msg #133

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

"Affirmative on the Coast Guard helo Nemesis.  Advise them that another boat might be in pursuit of the target.  We need observation only.  Armed US Navy Seahawk will interdict if required, over," Lina said.  By interdiction, she meant ordering Crewe or Baudin to hose down one of boats with 7.62.

"AKs.  A pair, maybe three.  That's where we are headed," Kowalska added, this time off comms and only to Caradoc.  For a moment she wished she had the .300 Blackout rifle, currently sitting in the back of the SH-60.  No time to focus on what-ifs she thought to herself.

"Double Down, Painter and I will move in to the marina on foot to engage these hostiles.  Let us know when you are two minutes out and we'll IFF targets for the starboard gun, over."  Lina didn't know much about the capabilities of the RPB, but active shooters with assault rifles would give Symonette and his officers a run for their money, even considering the occasional MP-5 armed DEU agent.  She reached into her pack and pulled out her low vis carrier and plussed-up IFAK, donning the former and clipping the latter to her belt.  Two more mags for the Wasp were quickly pocketed.

"Remember the good guys don't know we are on the same team, so watch for LEOs in addition to civilians and hostile targets."  She gave Crad a second to ready himself, before she continued.

"Alright, follow me."

Karolina Kowalska
Comms, donning soft vest, moving toward the gunfire
Colt Wasp [27/27]
    Reflex sight
    Mini-thermal sight (offset)

Hannah Omdahl
player, 165 posts
CWO2, U.S. Army
dcoda
Thu 21 Jul 2016
at 05:23
  • msg #134

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

"Roger that, Dancer." the lithe army aviatrix acknowledged the Kapitan's orders, still looking through the imager at the individuals involved, "Both shooters and the powerboat driver are reading human according to my thermals.  I believe the fleeing boatman is our person of interest."  She could only hope that they could save him - both for his sake and theirs.

Hannah tossed the large infrared lens onto the seat next to her and peeled out of parking area as quickly as she could.  "Barfight, I am inbound.  ETA ... eight minutes ..."  It had only taken them ten minutes to get out to Ceelen's, but that had been leisurely.  Still, Hannah knew she'd have to navigate both traffic - trying not to be too conspicuous - and the security gate getting back to the SH-60.  Her brow furrowed for a moment, "Barfight, can we" and by we Hannah, of course, probably meant you, "get Symonette on the horn to help clear the way through gate security?"

A thin, grim smile, but a smile nonetheless, crept onto the auburn-haired woman's lips as she gunned the engine of the sedan of Japanese make.  Hannah had to admit that sitting behind the wheel and weaving through the traffic was almost therapeutic for her.  She wasn't a speed junkie or anything (or, at least, wasn't much of one), but would be the first to admit that she felt more in her element in these situations than in meetings and such.

Hannah 'Double Down' Omdahl
Visual track and then Drive!
Gold Toyota Camry [1/1]
Tegyrius
GM, 569 posts
Sun 24 Jul 2016
at 22:36
  • msg #135

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Homestead:

"United States Air Force."  Hawkins' eyes narrow as she examines Michael speculatively.  She transfers her gaze to James.  "And the Federal Bureau of Investigation.  The two agencies that were specifically locked out of the squadron because the Navy was afraid they were compromised."  She looks back at Michael.  "But those boys from Chantilly cleared me to talk business with you.  More importantly, you don't speak Anomaly Fifteen.  So I'll assume you're clean."

She pushes back from the table and stands, reaching for three coffee mugs.  "The first four or five were self-taught.  After that, Naval Intelligence School - and the Defense Language Institute, once it opened up.  Whatever's special about my wiring," she gestures to her head, "was valuable enough for the Navy to overlook me being both colored and a lady.  Different times.  Dangsin-eun eoneu miseuteo hubeo ui gug teugsu yowon choe hwan-yeong doeji anh-eul geos," she adds with a faint smile.

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
You wouldn't have been welcome in Mister Hoover's Bureau either, Special Agent Choi.


"My spoken accent's atrocious in just about everything but Creole and French.  But yes, I'm a technical translator.  Still in business when they care to send me something.  The Hausa is the most recent addition.  It's West African.  Boko Haram," she elaborates.

"But let me think."  She closes her eyes and furrows her brow. "You're here on urgent business but your file on me is a redacted one without a photo or my sex.  You're looking into the squadron without a Navy liaison to interview me.  And you're expecting terrorists and things that go 'bump' in the night."  She opens her eyes and fixes James with her gaze again.  "So they're back," she gestures to the ceiling - the sky - with the mug in her hand, "and you're building a new file on them - or rebuilding the old one.  How do gentlemen take your coffee?"



Freeport:

Karolina and Caradoc move counter-clockwise around the arm of the marina bounded by a row of townhouses.  The buildings cut off their view of the local police, but from that general direction, more authoritative rifle fire begins to speak.

Reaching the end of the townhouse row, Karolina can see a man in casual clothing and a chest rig sprawled at the entrance to the complex's clubouse/restaurant, a folding-stocked AK at his side.  Judging from the pool of blood spreading around him, he's either already bled out or about to.  Moreover, his sightless eyes are turned toward her, affording her a good view of his face.  It's Grigori Polzin - one of the two Russians implicated in Captain Albinson's death at the nursing home.

The Kalashnikov fire has stopped, but Karolina can hear distant shouts in what sounds like Russian.  There's a roar of large marine diesels coming to full throttle and another cigarette boat - this one shimmering in high-gloss red and black - surges seaward from behind the clubhouse.  At the sight of five men and at least three AKs aboard, Karolina and Caradoc open fire...

At least, that's the plan.  Karolina's SCAMP's trigger is dead.  Looking down, she finds the fire selector locked halfway between "1" and "3," effectively leaving the pistol on safe.  In the time it takes to ready the weapon for use again, the boat is gone.

In those few seconds, Caradoc sidesteps his commander, braces his own SCAMP on a piling, and releases two bursts.  At least one round connects, spinning one of the riflemen around with a hit to the shoulder.  It probably won't be fatal but it'll definitely slow him down.

Meanwhile, Hannah undercuts her time estimate, pushing the loaner Toyota to its limits.  One of the officers Symonette left with the helicopter is at the airport's service gate.  At the sight of her approaching at high speed, he manhandles the gate open, then waves frantically for her to pass.

The other Bahamian officer is behind his marked car, MP-5 trained out against whatever threats he expects.  Hannah hooks around his position, ditches the Toyota, and sprints for the Knighthawk.  Barbrak already has the blades turning and Baudin is at the starboard M240, fingers drumming the receiver in anticipation.

"Empire Four, this is Cutter Campbell," growls a new voice as Hannah dons her helmet.  "We're spooling up our helo now.  Say your mission and search target, over."




Homestead:

Outside, Sébastien parks himself in the shade of the neighbor's house and maintains vigilance.  The neighborhood is quiet, save for the occasional passing car.  A young woman pushes a side-by-side stroller occupied by fussing twins, pausing on the sidewalk to retrieve a dropped toy, but she never looks between the houses to see the Frenchman.

The BWM is the first thing to put Sébastien's ears up.  It's a black 5-series, too expensive for this neighborhood.  It rolls past the house at low speed, which could be someone looking for an address - but then the same vehicle passes again, going the same direction.  Its windows are tinted, preventing Sébastien from getting a count of the occupants, and it definitely slows as it passes Hawkins' house.

Then another vehicle rolls past, this one a high-end Mercedes G-Wagen in a silver that's blinding in the Florida sunlight.  Its windows are open, affording Sébastien the chance to sweep it with his thermal imager.  He knows what the device will tell him before he checks the display, though, because the man in the front passenger's seat is wearing a face he's seen before: "Charlie Sheen," the "man" who murdered Admiral George Frye.
James Choi
player, 231 posts
Special Agt, FBI HRT
Raellus
Sun 24 Jul 2016
at 23:17
  • msg #136

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


"Geom-eun, budi." James replies, returning the smile. Lactose intolerant. "Kamsahamnida." He opted for the more formal expression of gratitude, as befitting a respected senior.

When Hawkins turns around to pour, James slowly lowers the hammer and slides the Colt back into its holster. He really is impressed- this Miss Hawkins is so much more than meets the eye.

James perks up at the mention of an 'old file' on the E.T.s. If such a file exists, it hadn't been shared with Grey Cell, and, although the FBI agent-turned-neophyte alien-hunter is starting to get used to being thrown into a job like a mushroom- fed on shit and kept in the dark- the revelation is still troubling.

"That's right. Rebuilding. Learning on the job, if you will. We've only been at it a few months now. First contact was overseas- it wasn't friendly. Now they're here in the States, in Florida, and looking for you. Why?"

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
"Black, please." "Thank you very much."


-
This message was last edited by the player at 23:23, Sun 24 July 2016.
Sebastien Durand
player, 329 posts
DGSE
Dave Ross
Mon 25 Jul 2016
at 18:23
  • msg #137

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Durand’s expression remains unchanged as his eyes come to rest on the alien the team has labelled ‘Charlie Sheen’, his face betraying no emotion. He had no way of knowing if it was the same one that had killed Frye, although the Frenchman figured that it stood to reason that the same assassin had probably been tasked with killing all the members of the squadron. To his human intelligence operative’s brain that made sense.

And now it appeared to have come for Hawkins.

The Frenchman reaches for his Glock, activating his throat mic as he does so. "Dealer, Lizard King, priority, priority. Charlie Sheen is inbound now, say again now. Silver Mercedes SUV, one human driver one non human passenger. A black BMW went by just before it, number of occupants unknown, but it checked the house out so they may be working together. This is probably about to go hot. Over."

Durand's hand is now resting on the Glock, but doesn't draw, not yet, instead looking up and down the street. If he can see the woman with the stroller or any other civilians in earshot he will call out to them to get out of the way, to get indoors, to get the fuck anywhere except here. The Frenchman doesn't want to risk her and her kids getting caught up in any of this, even if it means blowing his own cover. Putting himself at risk he can deal with, putting innocents at risk he can't.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:24, Mon 25 July 2016.
James Choi
player, 232 posts
Special Agt, FBI HRT
Raellus
Mon 25 Jul 2016
at 19:47
  • msg #138

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


Fuck.

James' mind's eye instantly calls up a still life of the AR propped upright between the the passenger seat and center console.

"Roger that. Can you get to the long rifle in the Suburban? Over."

James re-draws the .45 and pulls back the hammer with his thumb, all in one smooth, practiced motion.

"We're about to have company of the third kind. Miss Hawkins, do you have a safe room? Anything bigger than that revolver?"

-
This message was last edited by the player at 19:48, Mon 25 July 2016.
Sebastien Durand
player, 330 posts
DGSE
Dave Ross
Mon 25 Jul 2016
at 21:50
  • msg #139

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Durand ponders Choi's message for a moment. He'd made the occupants of the G Wagen. Two of them one of whom was the driver. But he was fairly sure that the BMW's drive by had been no coincidence, and he had no way of knowing how many people were in it. Or what they were armed with. If they had rifles they could cut him to pieces before he made it half way to the Suburban. But without longarms of their own, Grey Cell could be hopelessly outgunned.

It takes him less than two seconds to reach a decision. "I'll try, but cannot guarantee. Suggest you get the woman to call whoever she called when you first showed up and scramble some local law enforcement. Make sure they know I'm one of the good guys. Out"

Taking a deep breath and double checking that the area is clear of any civilians, Durand begins to retrace his steps back to the Suburban, trying to use every scrap of cover that he can. If and when he runs out of cover, it will have to be a sprint to the SUV. If he comes under fire and that proves impossible, he'll make a rapid retreat back to the shelter of the house.
Michael Dacovetti
player, 236 posts
Tech Sgt, JSOC JCU
keys138
Wed 27 Jul 2016
at 00:20
  • msg #140

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Nuclear, Dacovetti is about to answer to Ms. Hawkins question to how he takes his coffee.  Hot, black, and full of caffeine is fine ma'am.  And then Seb interrupts the script with an update on the arrival of their enemy.  Instead of answering the coffee interrogative, the airman stands and draws his weapon crossing quickly back toward the front door leaving Choi to secure their primary objective for a few moments.

"Bullfrog, I will cover from the front door, grab the backpack next to the AR if possible as well. I will open the door on your count, call direction of targets if possible."

He takes a moment to breathe, wondering whether or not he will be stepping into a kill zone.  While he breathes, he puts in his eye up to the peephole and scans the area looking for trouble.  The Glock holds steady in his right hand, pulled close into his torso.  The left hand grips the door handle and time begins to dilate the way it always does right before the kinetic energy of the local area begins to exceed the historical norm.
Karolina Kowalska
player, 193 posts
Captain, GROM
Spartan-117
Wed 27 Jul 2016
at 09:11
  • msg #141

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

"Kurwa," Lina said as she realized her shot was blown by a selector switch.  She flicked the switch hard to burst, though it was late.

"Their gone," she added, watching the speed boat pull away, knowing a shot now would be wasted.  "Check Grigori for weapons and see if you can keep him alive for interrogation.  I'll cover you and provide security."  While she'd love to watch Polzin bleed out, the chance intel opportunity was too good to pass up.  She offered Crad her IFAK as they trotted toward the man at the center of an increasingly large red pool of blood.

Karolina quickly double checked her Wasps condition as she stopped near the Russian and took a knee.

Karolina Kowalska
Moving with Crad toward the exsanguinating Russian.  Head on a swivel and watching for targets.  Shooting Grigori if he does anything threatening or suspicious.
Colt Wasp [27/27]
    Reflex sight
    Mini-thermal sight (offset)
Hannah Omdahl
player, 166 posts
CWO2, U.S. Army
dcoda
Thu 28 Jul 2016
at 05:58
  • msg #142

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Hannah's lips were pressed thin as she weaved between the cars on the Freeport roads back to the airport.  She quickly saluted Simonette's man as she passed him in the gold Toyota.  Ignition isn't even turned off completely, before she'd exited the vehicle.  Her kit was hastily reassembled with the thermal imager and her sidearm back in the single-strap sling bag.

She easily pulled herself into the idling Knighthawk, tapped Baudin playfully on the shoulder, before she pushed into the cockpit and slid into pilot's seat.  A quick survey of the instrument dsiplays showed everything to be in working order as she expected; already familiar with the layout, Hannah was simply getting her bearings on the state of the MH-60S.  Her bag stowed and her five points harness locked, Double Down immediately nudged the sea-going variation on her beloved Blackhawk into the clear Bahamian sky.  She flipped down the visor on her helmet to cut the glare.

Even though she was pretty sure that it was already done, Hannah glanced over at Barfight and prompted, "Make sure we have clearance from the tower."

Then she toggled her microphone and responded to the local Coast Guard contingent.  "Cutter Campbell, Empire Four," Double Down responded, her voice completely calm and professional, "We need you help in locating and monitoring a retired United States Naval officer.  One: Commander Ceelen, John W.  Our mission is the extraction and protection of Commander Ceelen."  She eased the Knighthawk around as she continued, "His last confirmed location was seven minutes ago, leaving the Freeport marina in a blue and gold powerboat.  Heading..."  And she paused for a moment replay there sequence in her mind's eye, "... due south into the open ocean..."  But, of course, she knew that once outside the jetty protecting the harbor, Ceelen could have steered his craft pretty much anywhere.

"Be advised, Cutter Campbell." Hannah relayed Lina's intel to the Cutter, "Ceelen may be being pursued by another craft which was also reported leaving the marina.  Second craft is to be considered hostile; however, you are not to engage..."

The thin army aviatrix switched to the Grey Cell channel, "Dancer, Double Down, I am airborne and outbound.  ETA to your position, two minutes and counting ..."  Karolina had asked for the two-minute warning; it was the least that Hannah could do to give it.  She'd seen a couple of potential landing spots though it would matter what the current situation was with respect to enemy disposition; so, Hannah prompted the Grey Cell leader, "Advise on LZ."  She didn't expect Dancer to pop smoke or anything, but she would need some visual identifier.

Hannah 'Double Down' Omdahl
Fly, Comms, Fly some more!
Knighthawk, MH-60S [1/1]
Tegyrius
GM, 573 posts
Sat 30 Jul 2016
at 00:29
  • msg #143

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Freeport:

"Cleared," Barbrak reports.  "They're diverting all traffic until the shooting stops."

The instrument panel reports the Knighthawk is ready to hunt.  Hannah glances at the airfield's windsock as she increases power, bringing the aircraft smoothly off the ground and turning south toward the marina.

"Sector, Six-Three, airborne at this time," advises another voice.  "Empire Four, this is Coast Guard Six-Five-Six-Three off the Campbell.  We copy Target One, blue-and-gold go-fast, friendly; Target Two, additional go-fast, presumed hostile.  We're northbound now, ETA your location fifteen minutes."



Homestead:

Sébastien steps to the edge of the yard in time to see the silver Mercedes turn the corner at the end of the block - then it and Charlie Sheen are out of sight.  There's no other traffic, vehicular or pedestrian.  The street is still and quiet.

Hawkins' brow furrows in annoyance as she places James' coffee in front of him.  "There are no coincidences," she mutters.  "There's a shotgun in the bedroom."  She points up the hall to a closed door.

There's a clock ticking in the back of Sébastien's head as he dashes to the Suburban.  Michael, watching from the door, toggles the remote locks when the DGSE agent is three steps away.  Sébastien throws open the door, grabs the rifle and Michael's backpack, and dashes back to the house.

Following Hawkins' direction, James swiftly moves to the bedroom.  In one corner, screened by an ornate full-length dressing mirror, a Browning Auto-5 leans muzzle-down.  The agent picks it up and feeds a round into the chamber.  The shotgun is probably of comparable vintage to its owner but the action responds smoothly.  James scoops up a half-box of 20-gauge buckshot from the floor and rejoins Hawkins in the hall.

The team's hostess has recovered her revolver from wherever she stashed it earlier.  As Michael shuts the door behind Sébastien, she looks up at the three men and raises her eyebrows.  "What's the play, Special Agent?  I assume he's with you," she adds, offering Sébastien the hand that's not holding a cocked large-frame Smith & Wesson.



Freeport:

Caradoc pats the satchel bouncing at his hip.  "Hold on to yours, mum."  He crouches over Polzin, doing a quick check of the man's status, then shakes his head.  "No joy.  He's bled out.  They got the iliac artery."  He looks up.  "Company," he announces unnecessarily as a cluster of Bahamian police officers begins advancing from the street.

For a brief moment, a disturbingly large number of guns are pointed at Karolina, Caradoc, and the dead Russian.  Then: "Do not shoot the lady!"

Inspector Symonette emerges from the cluster of armed officers.  His pistol is in its holster but there's dirt on his knees and his magazine pouches are empty.  "Captain," he drawls.  "Yours?"  He indicates Polzin's corpse.

"His, I'll wager," Caradoc rejoins, matching the inspector's detachment and pointing to a tall, cadaverous policeman carrying a well-worn L1A1 at port arms.

"Ah.  Well done, Jacobson," Symonette adds in an aside.  "And I don't suppose you have any light to shed on this, Captain?" he inquires in a tone dry enough to suck the moisture from the sea air.

As Karolina considers her response, the purr of rotors announces Hannah's return to the scene.
Sebastien Durand
player, 331 posts
DGSE
Dave Ross
Sat 30 Jul 2016
at 12:41
  • msg #144

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

"I'm Sébastien. Seb for short." Durand shakes the offered hand briefly, offers the woman a grin. "And yes, I work with these guys." His accent would make it obvious that he is not American, but he leaves the introductions at as he hands the rucksack over to Dealer.

"They turned the corner at the end of the block so we need to get eyes on the back of the house in case they're coming in that way. I'll do that. I don't know how many of them there are." That's accompanied by a semi apologetic shrug of his shoulders as he rapidly recaps the information that he has already given them. "Two in the second car, one -" the Frenchman pauses, choosing his words with care given the old woman's presence. "- one matching the profile of Charlie Sheen, one not. I don't know about the BMW. Couldn't see inside. It is possible that it is nothing to do with them, but I think that is unlikely. If we are staying here I think we need to get some back up from somewhere." A thought occurs to Durand. "Where is Hawkins?"

When the identity of the person they have come to find is clarified Durand nods, gives Hawkins another smile. "Sorry, Madame." The DGSE operator then makes his way upstairs, looking for a spot where he can view the back of the house from a raised vantage point, ironically enough trying to spot any threats that may have taken up position where he himself was lurking a few minutes ago.

Durand
Moving upstairs, looking for a spot where he can get eyes on the back of the house
HK417 (20/20)
James Choi
player, 235 posts
Special Agt, FBI HRT
Raellus
Sat 30 Jul 2016
at 20:58
  • msg #145

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


James continues feeding 20-gauge shells into the Browning, grateful for the increase in firepower. When the tubular magazine is full, he chambers the first shell and slides another into the tube well.

"Miss Hawkins, who were you on the phone with earlier? Can they help us? I'm gonna call the local PD in a sec here but I'm not sure they're ready for this."

Still appreciating the comforting heft of the Browning Auto-5 in his dominant hand, James takes out his phone and starts thumb-dialing Salcedo's number, eagerly awaiting Hawkin's reply.

-
This message was last edited by the player at 00:11, Sun 31 July 2016.
Michael Dacovetti
player, 238 posts
Tech Sgt, JSOC JCU
keys138
Sun 31 Jul 2016
at 00:04
  • msg #146

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

When Seb provides Dacovetti with his backpack, the airman practically sighs with relief.  A mental note is made that he should really be moving with this equipment on his person both for the possibility of the systems contained being required and due to the necessity of controlling sensitive information or hardware.  The Glock is carefully replaced into its holster then the WASP is removed with several extra magazines and placed carefully on the table.  A Bluetooth enabled tactical ear piece comes out of the top pocket that starts paging Michael's phone with the precision flick of his index finger.  Then the pack is secured with waist and chest straps to Michael's body.  WASP magazines are slipped into belt pockets and the earpiece is inserted.  A few more motions and the swipe of a few fingers and he can hear Foundation's phone ringing in his ear.  As re-equips his hands with the WASP, a silent thanks to the legends of physics and math for encrypted data signals is released to the ether.

"Foundation, Empire Three," he starts. "Situation here is about to go hot with at least four hostiles including Charlie Sheen.  Ms. Darnell Hawkins is currently secure and cooperating.  Lizard King is contacting Detective Salcedo for local interface.  Recommend you warm up Amber Cell. This phone line will remain connected."

As he speaks, Michael moves to a window where he can see the front of the house, far enough away from the front door to not be in the direct line of fire if someone were to fill it's geographic proximity with lead.
Karolina Kowalska
player, 194 posts
Captain, GROM
Spartan-117
Mon 1 Aug 2016
at 20:07
  • msg #147

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

"Terrorist; here for Commander Ceelen as well," Kowalska said, her eyes moving toward the dead Russian as her hands remained in the air.

"GROM, SAS, Special Operations Aviation Regiment.  We're not exactly admin clerks.  Our NATO unit noticed a pattern of attacks against several retired Navy personnel in Ceelen's last unit.  Unfortunately we didn't have specific and credible information about an attack or we would have shared that you.  I was hoping to talk Ceelen into coming with us to a safe house at Homestead until we had more information about what was going on," Karolina said as the sound of the US Navy gunship grew.  Lina found that honesty was the best policy in this situation.  Well, as much as she could reveal without disclosing sensitive compartmented information.

"Inspector, I need to stop them before they catch up with Ceelen," Lina added, nodding her head toward the sound of the approaching MH-60.

"They will kill him if they catch him," she added gravely.  For a moment she paused, her eyes narrowing as she studied Symonette.  The DEU Officer had been extremely helpful to the unit earlier and the dirt on his knees and spent magazines said a lot about his courage and sense of duty.  He had been engaging trained Kalashnikov wielding shooters with his sidearm.

Lina made a split second decision.

"Come with us Inspector.  You know Ceelen.  He's running for his life right now and needs someone he trusts.  And we need someone who can advise us on law enforcement issues," Lina said in a beseeching tone that finished with a touch of playfulness as the armed Seahawk came into full view, blades beating the air into submission with a deafening roar.

"WANNA TAKE A RIDE?"
This message was last edited by the player at 20:10, Mon 01 Aug 2016.
Hannah Omdahl
player, 167 posts
CWO2, U.S. Army
dcoda
Wed 3 Aug 2016
at 20:01
  • msg #148

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Hannah was in her element.  The whine of the marine variant of the General Electric T700 series engines were just familiar enough to her to be engagingly comforting.  They hummed with a well-timed, rhythmic precision that she'd come to associate with the Sikorsky Blackhawk frame with just a touch of Barfight's tinkering (and her own); just the way she liked it.  She signaled her co-pilot with an appreciative 'thumbs-up'.

As the chopper sped south towards the marina, her auburn-colored eyes scanned both the island and the water unsure of what she might see.  Double Down kept her own comms chatter to a minimum, primarily responding to Barbrak's various status reports with gestures and the response from the Coast Guard helo with "Six-Three, Empire Four.  Roger that.  We are southbound to the marina to recover additional team members first.  Will advise on search pattern once that is done."  Though Hannah was familiar with the common methods over land - and to lesser extent over water - more input would likely be needed for this situation.

She could see the gathering on law enforcement and vehicles near the waterfront - the flashing lights and gathering crowd were a touch hard to miss.  The lithe army aviatrix gently tapped controls and eased the MH-60S around to the nearest clearing (i.e. available space - she trusted the authorities to back people off), giving everyone in close proximity a chance to clear out as the US Navy Knighthawk approached.  Hannah didn't choose anything too tight, unwilling to showoff anything for the time being, but also knowing they were on the clock; so, she set it down efficiently and without ceremony or fuss.

Even before the gear was on the ground, she chirped into the Grey Cell channel, "Dancer, Double Down.  Opportunity knocks.  Pick up the Painter and let's go."  She motioned to the chiseled French commando manning the doors and knowing that 'Baudin' was the french equivalent of 'Baldwin', "Baldy," the special forces trained army pilot noted playfully to the crew-cut coiffed operative whose surname was derived from the Germanic roots for 'brave warrior', "make sure everyone gets on safe."  Of course, by 'everyone' she meant only dignitaries, you know, like other Task Force 47 members and their guests.

She wanted Baudin to cover the approach of anyone getting near her Knighthawk.  The presence of at least one expiring terrorist made Hannah wary that the LZ might still be warm or, at least require continued vigilance.  Even if Crewe and Kowalski's stances showed that the festivities were likely over; it never paid to be lax in these situations.
Tegyrius
GM, 577 posts
Sun 14 Aug 2016
at 20:19
  • msg #149

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Freeport:

Symonette's eyes narrow as he strokes his beard in thought.  "You'll need a law enforcement liaison if they're still in Bahamian waters," he muses, then holds out a hand.  "Jacobson, I need to borrow your rifle and kit.  Kemp, take charge of this scene and notify HQ that I'm," he studies Karolina with a faint hint of a smile, "supervising allied military personnel in pursuit."



Homestead:

"NSA," Hawkins responds to James' question.  "I still take the odd bit of work here and there.  Hence the Hausa." she adds in an aside to Michael.  Returning her focus to James, she continues, "If I'm in a pickle, they'll send local police anyway.  Or your colleagues."

Sébastien, taking up station in what appears to be an unused guest bedroom, sees a total lack of activity in his sector.  A quiet whine behind him announces that Rufus, sensing the general level of disquiet in the house, has followed his French cohort upstairs.

Salcedo answers her cell on the second ring.  "Special Agent Choi.  Please tell me you didn't find another body at your hit-listee's house."  Her voice holds a tone of resigned apprehension, the demeanor of a cop accustomed to getting to the scene too late to save anyone.

"Amber Five here," murmurs Marie Kohl's voice in Michael's ear.  "We've been monitoring your radio traffic.  QRF is already moving.  ETA one-zero mikes.  They will hold four blocks out for your signal."

As Michael mentally formulates a response, he tucks himself into position beside a head-high potted lemon tree.  The sun-bleached street appears devoid of activity but something in the back of the airman's head drags a cold hand down his spine.  Just on the threshold of hearing, there's a scrape of WILDWOOD GROUSE static in his earpiece...



Bahamian Territorial Waters:

Hannah neatly drops into the marina's parking lot, brushes the concrete with her tires, and lifts off sixty seconds later with three more passengers on board and a knot of perplexed local police officers receding behind her.  Following the advice of the Coast Guard crew, she turns southeast, following Ceelen's likely attempt to scrape off his pursuers in familiar waters.

While Caradoc, Baudin, and Symonette sort out matters in back, Karolina settles into the systems operator's seat and takes control of the aircraft's FLIR system.  Thirty tense minutes pass before:

"Empire, Six-Three.  We just received a report of two go-fasts blowing through the seaplane LZ at Deep Water Cay, heading south.  We're over by Great Abaco.  It looks like they're about midway between us.  How do you want to play this?"

Map update: https://drive.google.com/open?...7_So&usp=sharing
Michael Dacovetti
player, 240 posts
Tech Sgt, JSOC JCU
keys138
Sun 14 Aug 2016
at 20:58
  • msg #150

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Ten minutes? Dacovetti can hear the line echo through his skull when he hears that the QRF is on its way, the voice mental product of the hours repeat viewing the same movie of naval aviators when he was a kid.  Bullshit.  This thing will be over in two minutes.

Instead, "Empire Three copies all, Amber Five."  Marie's voice is cool, slightly accented.  A voice inflection to put the airman at ease, along with the requisite tactical breathing.  Or it is possible he just loves a woman with an accent.  This situation is about to go hot, he can feel it in his bones, a pressure that is familiar as drawing his weapon.

"Be advised," Michael tells his teammates, and by extension, Amber Five, "I have a subdued Grouse signal.  Hostiles are active and QRF is inbound, ETA ten minutes.  Lizard, can you inquire about any possible stealth technologies from our new friend?"  The airman swallows, his carefully constructed vocabulary and control slipping for a second, New York audible in his next sentence: "Cuz I've got a bad feeling about this."


Dacovetti
Kneeling behind cover, ready to engage
WASP with holographic site
?/?, four mags remaining
This message was last edited by the player at 01:07, Mon 15 Aug 2016.
James Choi
player, 237 posts
Special Agt, FBI HRT
Raellus
Mon 15 Aug 2016
at 01:52
  • msg #151

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


Choi can't help but chuckle. It eases the building tension by a fraction. "No, detective, she's alive and well..."

For now..., he adds silently.

"But we have a probable terrorist sighting and, er, things look like they're about to get serious here real soon. We have a task force QRF on the way right now. I don't want any of your people getting hurt. If MDPD could cordon off this neighborhood like right now, that'd be great."

Nice one, Lumberg.

He gives Salcedo Durand's description of the vehicles, and Hawkins' address; she'll have to work out the rest.

"I've got to go. Call you back as soon as I can." he thumbs the End Call button and pockets the phone. James turns to Hawkins, feeling awkward addressing the senior citizen a shotgun- her shotgun- in his hands.

"Do these creatures have any personal stealth technologies that you're aware of?"

He doesn't peg Hawkins for a Schwarzenegger fan, but most of his assumptions about lady have already been proven wrong, so he adds, "Something like the alien in the Predator movies?"


Choi
Downstairs, kneeling behind cover
Browning Auto-Five (5/5); Colt .45 (9/8)

-
This message was last edited by the player at 01:54, Mon 15 Aug 2016.
Sebastien Durand
player, 333 posts
DGSE
Dave Ross
Tue 16 Aug 2016
at 19:16
  • msg #152

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

"Relax, boys, les Cocoyes are on their way." Durand's low chuckle can be heard over the team net as he casually refers to the Air Commandos by one of their French nicknames, an action intended to reassure his two American colleagues. Reinforcements are on the way.

The Frenchman himself takes more tangible reassurance from the feel of the assault rifle's butt drawn in tight to his shoulder as he scans the area outside the window, looking for anything out of the ordinary, Dealer's transmission having raised a possibility that he hadn't considered up until this point, that the aliens might have some sort of technology that might render them invisible to the naked eye.

And that was not a good thought.

Durand stares out, looking for anything at all that might give a hint of incoming intruders. He's no sci fi fan, but he likes a good action movie, has seen the one where Schwarzenegger is hunted through the Central American forests. "Maybe we should cover ourselves in mud?" he remarks to the dog without taking his eyes off the street outside.

"Hmmmm? Tu pense?" he lapses into his native French as he continues to address the dog and watch the street.  "Tu garde regarder trop mon ami, et si tu vois quelque chose là-bas tu assure que tu me dites, oui?"

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
You think?
You keep watch too my friend, and if you see anything out there you make sure you tell me, yes?

Durand
Upstairs, keeping watch, befriending the dog
HK417 (20/20)
This message was last edited by the player at 19:20, Tue 16 Aug 2016.
Karolina Kowalska
player, 196 posts
Captain, GROM
Spartan-117
Fri 26 Aug 2016
at 06:16
  • msg #153

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Kowalska listened to the radio chatter as she pulled up a map of the area on her tablet.  The phrase hope for the best, plan for the worst repeated itself in her head, as it often did during such operations.

"Six-Three, this is Empire Four.  Approach from the north east and obtain visual on the lead blue and gold boat.  Observe and render assistance to the VIP on board if needed.  Our craft is a US Navy MH-60.  We will track and interdict the pursuit vessel.  Pursuit craft Tangos are armed and extremely dangerous.  Six-Three," Lina paused for a moment, trying to figure out how to say what she wanted.  When she was ready, she keyed her mic again.

"Six-Three if our craft engaged by hostile forces and splashed, your priority must be the safe recovery of the VIP aboard the blue and gold vessel.  Immediately relocate the VIP to Homestead Air Force base if your fuel level permits.  All personnel aboard Empire Four are SERE Level C qualified in Water Survival and survivors will wait for the Cutter.  How do you copy over?"

Of course the last part wasn't entirely true.  Lina doubted Inspector Symonette had military water survival training.  Growing up on an island would have to suffice in his case.  The calculus of the moment however demanded that he be considered expendable.  Recovering Ceelen was critical.

Besides, Karolina was really hoping to avoid adding an eleventh helicopter crash to her resume.
This message was last edited by the player at 06:16, Fri 26 Aug 2016.
Hannah Omdahl
player, 168 posts
CWO2, U.S. Army
dcoda
Mon 5 Sep 2016
at 17:03
  • msg #154

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Hannah continued to scan the horizon, her senses on overdrive.  She tried to keep focused on the task at hand; there was very little margin for error here and she was in her element.  The controls of the MH-60S were oh-so-familiar.  The lithe army aviatrix remained reasonably quiet, the silences as she worked were punctuated by clipped status reports to the rest of the crew and Karolina.  With the open water splayed out before her there wasn't much to report.  Yet.

The hairs on the back of her neck were prickling lightly though.  They were getting close; she could feel it.

That and the Kapitan's orders with respect to the potential expendability of the Seahawk and its crew resonated in her mind.  She hadn't lost a chopper (well not completely, they'd made it back to base in Kandahar in pretty much one piece) on a mission yet.  And she didn't intend to start with this borrowed craft.  Double Down's right leg throbbed sympathetically for a moment, forcing her to refocus and doubling her determination to bring everyone (including Ceelen) back safe.

And the quarry had been spotted.  Chief Warrant Officer Omdahl nudged throttle forward and opened up the intakes on the turbines, listening to their whine rise in both pitch and amplitude.  A slightly crooked smile touched her lips.  Go Fast, she thought to herself...
Tegyrius
GM, 584 posts
Mon 5 Sep 2016
at 22:23
  • msg #155

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

South of Freeport:

Hannah puts her nose down and comes about in a sweeping left turn, heading toward the waters south of Deep Water Cay.  Within a minute, she's running northeast at 140 knots.  It's less speed than she's accustomed to wringing from a stock Black Hawk but the Knighthawk is a much heavier bird.  On the plus side, part of that weight is the surface search radar and FLIR systems that Barbrak is juggling.

"Six-three copies all," responds the Coast Guard pilot.  "Nine minutes out.  Be advised, we are an AUF aircraft with a gunner on board.  Does your previous no-shoot instruction stand?  Over."



Homestead:

Hawkins cocks her head at James' question.  "I never heard anything about a Romulan cloaking device, Mister Sulu," she replies with a hint of a smile.  The expression fades into a wince and a frown.  With the hand not holding the revolver, she pinches her forehead.

Upstairs, Rufus tucks himself under Sébastien's elbow to look out the window.  Neither dog nor man sees anything out of the ordinary in the back yard.  Michael and James' visual scans out the front windows are no more revealing.

A couple of minutes tick by in awkward silence while Michael annexes the coffee table in the name of ELINT.  The alien interference is very faint - whatever is emitting it is much lower-powered than anything seen before.



South of Freeport, ten minutes later:

The Coast Guard MH-65 is the faster aircraft but Hannah is closer by several miles - and has the avionics to cut through the scattered rain squalls popping up around the area.  Barbrak taps his screen significantly: two targets, running almost due south at close to 80 knots.  If they weren't under the nearest shower, they'd easily be within visual range.

Symonette leans past Karolina for a look, then keys his mic.  "If they stay on that heading, the next thing they'll hit is the Norwegian Cruise Lines anchorage at Great Stirrup," he advises over the intercom.  "Ten or twelve minutes to that, I'd say."

"If their kidneys hold out," Caradoc comments.

On the far side of the raincloud, a fast-moving orange dot appears: the Coast Guard helo, looping around to set up for a stern chase.



Homestead:

"Empire Three, we have nothing on your sensor net," Sergeant Kohl reports.  "Ah, stand by."  There's a pause of perhaps twenty seconds.  "Empire Two, be advised, Miami-Dade is coordinating with Homestead police for your cordon.  A Homestead patrolman has reported a sighting of your suspect G-Wagen leaving the area.  Break.  Further information, QRF is in position to intercept at your order.  Do you want them to engage or continue toward you?  Over."
This message was last edited by the GM at 13:13, Sun 11 Sept 2016.
Michael Dacovetti
player, 245 posts
Tech Sgt, JSOC JCU
keys138
Wed 14 Sep 2016
at 00:31
  • msg #156

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


"I might be chasing a ghost," Dacovetti intones into his radio in regards to his signal.  "It's an order of magnitude weaker than anything I've seen before."  A few more keystrokes and the encrypted LTE signal his computer is communicating on syncs his monitor to a station back at the TOC.  "You should have it now, over."

He glances through the doorway at Choi and exchanges a few words before reaching back across the electronic ether to Foundation. "Foundation, have the QRF shadow the G-Wagen and if possible identify their base of operations.  We're still secure here, over."  For now, he adds mentally.  We're secure for now, but all probabilities point to that scenario evolving soon.
James Choi
player, 242 posts
Special Agt, FBI HRT
Raellus
Wed 14 Sep 2016
at 01:54
  • msg #157

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


James spares Hawkins a concerned glance, biting back the impulse to call her Uhura. "You OK, ma'am?" He next makes eye contact with Dacovetti, indicating their elderly hostess with a tilt of the neck.

She seems to be picking up whatever your gear is.

Awaiting her response, James refocuses on the front yard and the street beyond. Still no sing of the hit squad. He dialed Salcido, put her on speakerphone.

"It's Choi. Quick update. Our intel is suggesting that the terrorist hit squad got spooked or something. We've got an asset trailing one of their vehicles out of the area now. We might not be out of the woods quite but it looks like we may have a window here and I don't want to lose it. Could you send a couple of black and whites to the homestead here to escort us out?" He proceeds to repeat Hawkins' address, then gives the detective descriptions of all of the good guys present, including their current armaments. He didn't want nervy cops rolling up and taking the recently up-gunned for a team of terrorists.

-
Sebastien Durand
player, 337 posts
DGSE
Dave Ross
Fri 16 Sep 2016
at 19:06
  • msg #158

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

A random thought crosses Durand's mind as he continues to scan the street outside the window, watching for any aliens, invisible or otherwise. Invisible alien assassins stalking a Florida residential community.  The thought was enough to make the Frenchman shake his head as he keys his mike. "Dealer, Bullfrog. Is there any chance that you might be picking up something inside the house? Maybe some sort of...souvenir...that Hawkins kept?"

That leads on to yet another thought, another one that comes straight out of science fiction films, one that he doesn't voice over the radio. These American Navy people had been flying the alien spacecraft. Had they had anything...implanted...in their bodies to help them to do that? Did Hawkins and the others have alien technology inside them?

Durand turns his attention back to the street, almost hoping that the alien hit squad do show up, that he can engage them in combat. That is something that the Frenchman understands. Whether they are human or not an enemy is an enemy. They bleed. They can be killed. That thought reassures him as he scans the street, listening to Choi's end of the phone conversation. It made sense to follow them, see where they went, and the QRF was operating under questionable legalities at best, but Durand would still have preferred to see them dead.
Tegyrius
GM, 587 posts
Sat 17 Sep 2016
at 19:33
  • msg #159

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Homestead:

"Ah... roger that."  Keys rattle in the background as Marie Kohl leaves her mic open for a moment.  "We see it but we have no ideas here.  I'm requesting realtime Green Cell support.  QRF reports they are visual on target."

"Touch of a headache," Hawkins replies through gritted teeth, waving off James' concern.  "I'll be fine.  You worry about the visitors."

At Sébastien's inquiry, Michael swaps places with James, letting the federal agent tuck in beside the front window.  He paces across the parlor, then down the hall, intently watching his signal analyzer.  There's a faint swing in bearing but not enough to indicate a source inside the house.  It's somewhere north of the team's current location but it's frustratingly difficult to pin down.

Salcedo answers on the first ring.  Her anticipation is evident even over the cell connection's background hiss.  "We're on the way.  Where are we taking you?  721A, 741A, change of plans.  We're escorting the federal detail and one VIP out of the area.  '21, continue past the house and block the street ahead.  '41, close protection.  I'll cover the back.  Hey, I've got some air support here.  You want me to refocus him on the terrorists or stay on you?"
Hannah Omdahl
player, 169 posts
CWO2, U.S. Army
dcoda
Sun 18 Sep 2016
at 06:15
  • msg #160

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Hannah nodded to Barbrak's gesticulations.  "Good man." she acknowledged her copilot and pointed to the trailing blip, "give me range to target and keep your eyes open for debris and lightning."  This wasn't the first time that she'd flown in really crappy weather; but, it was never that enjoyable either.  Double Down let the crew in the back know, "Everyone buckle up; it's bound to get bumpy."

"Six-Three, this is Empire." the thin aviatrix noted, giving the coast guard chopper the tacit authorization to engage using its weapon if necessary, "you are authorized to use all means required to ensure objective.  However, your priority remains the safety of VIP on go-fast one."

She started the MH-60S into the inclement weather, narrating as she dipped the nose further, "We are engaging go-fast two.  Acquisition imminent."  Hannah switched over to the local channel on the Knighthawk and asked, "Kapitan, what type of approach do you want?  Are we going to try to disable go-fast two first?"  Even if the two terrorists on-board were human stooges, they could still have something useful to divulge potentially about their masters.

Of course, Fate might have something else in store.  And obviously, Hannah didn't intend to endanger herself and the crew ... much.  They were, after all, heading at high speed into a sea squall attempting to chase down two fast moving watercraft.  What was so inherently dangerous about that?  What could possibly go wrong?
James Choi
player, 245 posts
Special Agt, FBI HRT
Raellus
Sun 18 Sep 2016
at 20:00
  • msg #161

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


"Uh, give me a second," James replies, pressing the mute button. He catches Dacovetti's eye again, motions him over.

"Hawkins, she's acting like Omdahl when the aliens hit her with that psi-weapon back in Melbourne. You think something like that's in play here?"

-
This message was last edited by the player at 23:57, Tue 20 Sept 2016.
Michael Dacovetti
player, 247 posts
Tech Sgt, JSOC JCU
keys138
Mon 19 Sep 2016
at 01:28
  • msg #162

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


Choi's question draws a shrug from Dacovetti, but internally he's kicking himself for not noticing it earlier.  "As a rule, I find coincidences hard to dismiss, but I don't want to overreact to a shadow.  Deconflict the air, I'll speak with Ms. Hawkins."  As usual, Michael is quick and precise in is delivery, not intending anything more than the information he is relaying.  On some levels, to some people, it's probably maddening.  With the possibility of aliens storming through a wall, it's just saving wasted time.

The airman moves back to their protectee's side and turns his computer monitor to face her.  "Ms. Hawkins," Michael says, again clipped and professional, "this signal here, this line, is the trademark signal of our visiting friends.  We've detected it at every battlefield we've engaged in.  As you can see," he assumes he's talking to someone who can follow, "it mirrors an EKG.  We've shown interference with cognitive effects on others.  I hesitate to use the phrase 'remote control,' but..."  He let's the thought trail off.

"Your headache," he continues, "is indicative of alien activity.  Despite the abnormally low level we're detecting, they are up to something.  The signal appears to be coming from somewhere to the north, but the only thing I'm seeing on Maps in our vicinity that looks unusual is a big apartment complex and the Naranja Lakes.  Is there anything you can think of?" 
James Choi
player, 247 posts
Special Agt, FBI HRT
Raellus
Wed 21 Sep 2016
at 00:01
  • msg #163

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


As Dacovetti takes over attending to Hawkins, James refocuses on the street out front, unmutes Salcedo, "Thanks for holding. Let's get that air support over Hawkins' place. Do you know if your bird happens to have a FLIR on board?"

James wonders if whatever is putting out the low-freq psi signal is also generating enough heat to stand out on earthling thermal imaging devices.

-
Karolina Kowalska
player, 197 posts
Captain, GROM
Spartan-117
Sun 25 Sep 2016
at 12:03
  • msg #164

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Hannah Omdahl:
She started the MH-60S into the inclement weather, narrating as she dipped the nose further, "We are engaging go-fast two.  Acquisition imminent."  Hannah switched over to the local channel on the Knighthawk and asked, "Kapitan, what type of approach do you want?  Are we going to try to disable go-fast two first?"  Even if the two terrorists on-board were human stooges, they could still have something useful to divulge potentially about their masters.


"Tak, yes," Lina said, accidentally answering in her native language as she studied her tablet while responding to Hannah over crew comms.  "Let's try to overtake the second boat and engage with Baudin's starboard gun."

Karolina shifted over to Caporal, careful to keep one hand on ceiling to maintain her balance as she did so.

"Hannah's going to try to put you along side the enemy boat.  As soon as you see it, open fire on the engine area.  Suppress any targets that fire on our craft at your discretion," Kowalska said, pausing briefly to see if the good Corporal had any questions.
Tegyrius
GM, 593 posts
Sun 2 Oct 2016
at 16:10
  • msg #165

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

South of Freeport:

Heavy raindrops smear the cockpit windows as the air outside turns an opaque gray.  The Knighthawk bucks in the ocean squall's turbulence but Hannah holds it in a descending left-hand spiral, one eye on the radar altimeter.

"Hold this turn," Barbrak murmurs.  "Targets are at ten o'clock, three miles... stay on it..."

A thousand feet above the water, Hannah breaks out of the low clouds with the suddenness of a curtain being drawn.  Through the streaks of rain, the two boats' wakes are foamy white chevrons off the starboard nose.

"Visual on targets," Barbrak announces.  "Tangoes are firing on VIP, I can see hot rifles on FLIR.  Fuckass!  VIP's engines are too hot.  They probably took a few rounds already.  Captain!  Take a look."

Karolina peers between the pilot's and copilot's seats as Barbrak swings the seeker head back onto the Russians' boat.  He taps the screen significantly, mindful of the Bahamian liaison's presence.  All five men in the trailing boat are human, at least to the FLIR system's ability to differentiate.

As the helicopter draws closer, Baudin bobs his helmet in an exaggerated nod and steadies himself behind his machine gun.  Symonette, watching from a jumpseat, clears his throat.  "For the record," he remarks dryly, "they're committing an immense number of felonies in Bahamian territorial waters.  I concur with your judgement, Captain.  Shoot the bastards now and we'll sort out the paperwork over drinks later."



Homestead:

"Sure does," Salcedo replies confidently as the first Miami-Dade Police marked car rolls quietly past Hawkins' house and stops at the end of the block.  "Stand by..."  She pauses as a second patrol unit swings around the far corner.  "Shit.  Sorry, it's gonna be a minute.  They're having trouble with it."

Hawkins cocks her head and squints at Michael's brief exposition.  "Nothing comes to mind.  Though I think the higher physics is more your department than mine."  She gives the airman a tight smile without apparent humor.  "'Cognitive interference?'" she paraphrases.  "That might have something to do with the abnormally high rates of drinking and Section Eight discharges.  Even for the fifties..."



South of Freeport:

Hannah puts the Knighthawk on the deck and creeps up on the go-fast's port rear quarter.  At 150 meters out, Baudin opens fire.  The first burst from the M240 goes long, disappearing into the choppy sea with only the flicker of a couple of tracers to mark its passage.  The air commando corrects for the helicopter's speed and fires again, this time missing high by only a few feet.

Amazingly, neither the gunfire nor the Knighthawk itself appears to attract the Russians' attention - all five men are focused intently on Ceelen's boat a couple of hundred meters ahead.  Two are firing single shots, and their stances are about as good as they could be given the circumstances, but the sea state and their own boat's speed make the task a matter of luck, not skill.

With Karolina calling corrections, Baudin walks his third burst down the speedboat's bow.  One round smashes an AK's receiver, sending the weapon pinwheeling into the sea.  The splash is lost in the waves - and in the brief eruption of the helmsman's head as another round strikes home.  The boat veers hard to port, cutting across the helicopter's flight path as the nearest rifleman drops his weapon and lunges for the helm.

"Aaand Empire from the '63, that's a good hit," observes the Coast Guard pilot.  "My gunner's on the Barrett if you want the engines taken care of before they get back under control."

OOC: Range is ~120 meters, with the speedboat at the helicopter's eleven o'clock position.  From here, Hannah can turn hard to the left to bring Baudin back on target, or can hold course or veer slightly right to set up Crad for a shot.  Karolina and Symonette, should they desire, can engage from either door.

The Coast Guard helicopter is currently about 500 meters back at Hannah's eight o'clock position, holding formation in that position.  Its gunner can fire only from the right side.



Homestead:

The second patrol car slows in front of Hawkins' house and bumps over the curb as the driver positions his vehicle to block hypothetical attacks on anyone moving from the residence to the team's SUV.  The officer riding shotgun - literally, in this case - pops his door and swings out, pump-action long gun at the ready.

Down the block, an electric-blue Ford Raptor rounds the corner and stops, blocking the intersection.  "We're here.  You ready?" Salcedo asks.

"Empire Three, I'm patching in Green Cell," Sergeant Kohl says over the radio net.  "Stand by... Green Four-Two, go ahead."

"'ey, Mike," comes Crit's familiar Australian rumble.  "You're in a house, right?  Get yourself as far against the east wall as you can and watch your needle.  Right, now all the way west.  Wait one..."  The channel goes dead for several seconds.  Then:

"Mike, look at the triangulation and the signal strength.  It's not a big thing in orbit, it's a really small thing really fuckin' close.  Like, a couple hundred meters, mate."

Sébastien, listening to the conversation, brings the rifle up.  No threats present themselves over its sights, neither in Hawkins' meticulously-landscaped back yard nor in the adjoining yards and parallel street beyond.  On impulse, the DGSE agent begins another scan, this time with the miniature thermal imager clamped to the Mk.18's side rail.  As he pans across his field of view, a painful itch erupts behind his eyes, like the burn of spider bites in his eye sockets.
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:26, Thu 13 Oct 2016.
Sebastien Durand
player, 341 posts
DGSE
Dave Ross
Wed 5 Oct 2016
at 14:55
  • msg #166

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

”Merde!” The expletive slips from Durand’s lips a heartbeat after the itching erupts, his head instinctively shifting away from the thermal sight as he blinks repeatedly in an attempt to alleviate what feels almost like a burn inside his head.

Switching to the rifle’s normal sights, the Frenchman activates his throat mic. ”All callsigns from Bullfrog. Something weird just happened. When I used my weapon’s thermal sight it hurt my eyes, kind of like some sort of itch but really bad. Be aware if you’re using thermal optics.” Ending his transmission he returns to his vigil, his mind mulling over the possibility that the Attars – he still found himself thinking of them by that name, perhaps because that was he had first encountered them, up close and personal in Tripoli – had discovered that thermal imagers could be used to identify them and had developed some sort of countermeasure.

And if so did that mean that they were out there somewhere? Watching him as he tried to spot them? Durand’s finger rests on the rifle’s trigger guard as he continues to use the weapon’s non thermal sights to watch the surrounding yards and the street beyond them.
Michael Dacovetti
player, 251 posts
Tech Sgt, JSOC JCU
keys138
Wed 5 Oct 2016
at 19:35
  • msg #167

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

"Hostiles are jamming the thermal."  The words exit Dacovetti's mouth before he has time to do a proper, if quick, scientific assessment, but the conclusion feels right.  Are right enough to pass solidly between the error bars in Michael's informal study of the evolving situation.  The revelation makes some sense.  Their adversary had know that they were able to be identified via deviations in body heat.  That would only remain a weakness as long as no one was watching and it could only remain an advantage to Gray Cell as long as their enemy hadn't evolved their defenses.  Clearly, they had.  With his ability to triangulate fairly limited, Michael takes the best bearing he can and then calls a SWAG* on the distance.

"Lizrd King, have that helo discontinue the use of the FLIR immediately and go to visual magnification or eyeballs only.  We're probably looking for another box truck or van to our north maybe 100 to 250 meters out.  Bearing... 350 from this house.  Target will be stationary.  Bullfrog, can you confirm approximate heading without melting your eyes?"  It's hard to tell in his tone if Dealer is joking or not.


*SWAG: Scientific Wild Ass Guess
James Choi
player, 251 posts
Special Agt, FBI HRT
Raellus
Thu 6 Oct 2016
at 00:10
  • msg #168

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


"Roger that." James replies, grateful that he'd programmed Salcedo's direct line into his cell.

"Detective, it's Choi again. Advise your chopper not to use its FLIR. We believe the terrorists have fired up some sort of active countermeasures device that could put your bird in danger. Have the chopper crew switch to visual only- they should be safe as long as they don't use infra-red. We think the terrorists are running their system from a van or box truck; our signals guy's placed it somewhere 100 to 300 meters north of the Hawkins residence. If the chopper can find it, have a couple units roll up on it, but tell them to exercise extreme caution. These people are heavily armed and verydangerous. If you have a SWAT unit handy, now would be a good time to use 'em."

James The revelation that the Attars have figured out how to spoof Grey Cell's passive detection system is extremely worrying. Perhaps their hit squad is still in the neighborhood...

We're not out of the woods yet.

-
This message was last edited by the player at 00:48, Thu 06 Oct 2016.
Sebastien Durand
player, 343 posts
DGSE
Dave Ross
Thu 6 Oct 2016
at 10:26
  • msg #169

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

The sound of a wry chuckle can be heard over the radio, followed a moment later by Durand’s voice. ”If I go blind Dealer, you are arranging for a twenty five year old hot blonde to take care of me. And help me in the shower. Stuff like that. Stand by.”

The Frenchman pauses for a second before flicking the thermal imager back on, this time holding the rifle away from his face, so that his eye is approximately a foot away from the optic’s eyepiece, hoping that will give him some protection against whatever it is that is interfering with the thermal sight as he attempts to pinpoint the source of that interference. If the problem persists he’ll also try pulling down the pair of wrap around Oakleys that are currently perched on top of his head to see if that helps.
Tegyrius
GM, 596 posts
Sun 9 Oct 2016
at 18:51
  • msg #170

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Homestead:

Beside Sébastien, Rufus suddenly goes berserk.  The big Malinois rears up on his hind legs, battering at the window glass with his forepaws as he snarls at something in the backyard.  The DGSE agent involuntarily flinches away from the dog's unexpected fury.  As he does so, there's a white-hot flare in the corner of his eye, a blur on the thermal imager where his unaugmented vision tells him nothing at all exists --

-- the signal on Michael's screen shudders like someone is kicking the transmitter --

-- something goes snap behind Sébastien's eyes and his vision clears.  The burning sensation vanishes as he puts the rifle's Aimpoint on the object hovering over a neighboring house's yard.

A gray-gleaming lozenge shape springs into view, its underside lit by crackling electrical discharges.  Six tentacular appendages, each slim as a garden hose but twice the length of a man's arm, writhe in seemingly-random patterns.  A complex underslung cluster of lenses and - probes? antennae? - swivels toward the Frenchman with a movement like that of a gunship's turret.

Almost reflexively, Sébastien elbows the howling dog away, exhales half a breath, and strokes the trigger three times.  The Mk.18's suppressor saves his ears as the window glass erupts outward from the muzzle blast.

The hovering thing's tentacles spasm as all three rounds strike home.  The electrical corona winks out and the object plummets out of sight.  A distant thump of impact and a plume of vapor mark its descent.

Downstairs, the gunfire sounds like someone repeatedly dropping a bowling ball.  Dust springs from the ceiling and the light fixtures flicker.  The faint echo of WILDWOOD GROUSE vanishes from Michael's sensor net.

"Shots fired!" calls out one of the cops on the sidewalk outside, his shotgun vainly questing in search of a target.

Half a breath later, Salcedo adds, "Shit!  Jim, tell me that was you guys.  The chopper says they've got a contact, thermal and visual, but, uh... they can't identify it. Are we gettin' your VIP out of there or what?"

Rufus, unhampered by protocol, emits a tearing snarl and bounds through the remains of the window.  The dog skids down the sloping shingles to the top of the sun porch, bounds from there to the ground, and takes off in the general direction of Sébastien's target.
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:52, Sun 09 Oct 2016.
Sebastien Durand
player, 345 posts
DGSE
Dave Ross
Sun 9 Oct 2016
at 19:25
  • msg #171

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

"Contact!" Durand announces tersely over the radio. "Ten o'clock. Some sort of machine or probe maybe. I hit it." The sense of satisfaction in the Frenchman's voice at that last statement is quite evident to anyone listening to the transmission. "It's gone down. Have lost visual, but there's a smoke plume. The dog has gone after it. Am following. Send any back up you can. Choi, make sure the cops know I'm out here. Out."

Determined to see what he's hit, the Frenchman is already in motion, a gloved hand resting on the frame of the shattered window for a moment as he vaults over it, slithering down the top of the sunroof, the rifle held in his right hand as he drops down to the ground and sets off in pursuit of Rufus.

Durand rarely watches science fiction movies. But Schwarzenegger movies count as action, not sci fi. He's seen the one where Schwarzenegger is hunted through the jungle by the alien equipped with an integral cloaking device. And he's also seen the other one where dogs alert people to the presence of cyborg hunter killers.  Good dog he thinks to himself, pulling the stock of his rifle in tight against his shoulder as he  runs in the direction of the smoke plume, the barrel of the HK rising, his finger poised, ready to take a shot at anything that's clearly not human. Anything human will get a scan with the thermal imager if it's working, with any anomalies getting the same treatment as anything not human. If the thermal imager isn't working he'll take his cue from his four legged friend.

Durand
HK417 (17/20)
Following Rufus in general direction of smoke plume
Ready to engage any potential targets with multiple single shots
Karolina Kowalska
player, 199 posts
Captain, GROM
Spartan-117
Mon 10 Oct 2016
at 10:55
  • msg #172

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Lina watched as the rounds impacted against the trailing speedboat and its occupants.  She gave a thumbs up and and an approving nod to Baudin before speaking into the mic.

"Great flying Hannah," she said over crew comms.  The former Screaming Eagles pilot definitely knew her stuff. "Now let's see what the HITRON can do,"Karolina offered, both to give Hannah a brief respite and out of sheer curiosity at what the US Coast Guard was capable of.  Kowalska then clicked over to VHF as she shifted position in the moving helo.

"Six Three this is Empire Six Actual.  Affirmative on your request.  Please engage trailing boat with your AMR, over."  The Polish NATO Officer didn't wait for a response.  She locked eyes with Crewe and nodded toward the doorway.

"Crad, you're up."  Taking a knee, she glanced next toward Symonette.  Lina's next request was calculated to ensure the Bahamian DEU had some skin in the game as well.

"Inspector - any chance you can get a shot as well?"
Hannah Omdahl
player, 173 posts
CWO2, U.S. Army
dcoda
Mon 10 Oct 2016
at 20:01
  • msg #173

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

"Yes, Ma'am." Double Down chirped quickly into the comm channel, acknowledging Lina's praise and then Dancer's orders on the most expedient way to favorably resolve the current situation, "Thank you, Ma'am."

Hannah's focus never wavered from trying to keep the 'Hawk flying straight and true in the buffeting rain and winds.  The lithe army aviatrix was fairly certain that could have swung the MH-60S around for another pass with Baudin's gun; it might be a little tricky, but well within her capabilities.  However, she was also well aware that this wasn't a game and she wasn't going to take unnecessary risks with either crew or Ceelen's well-being; the Kapitan had rightly chosen to avail herself of all the available options to try and disable the pursuing enemy.

She continued her vigil, watching the sheets of water pelt the chopper's hull from a number of wind swept angles.  Double Down had always accounted herself a relatively perceptive young woman, which probably served her pretty well in situations like this - ones where her instincts played as much of a role in keeping a straight course as her physical dexterity.  Hannah knew that the oncoming precipitation was as much, if not more, of an indicator of any micro-eddies to be navigated in the violently turbulent air currents effected by the squall.  Her hands and feet worked together in a chaotic dance controlled by data fed to her brain via her eyes and ears - and fed by the years of practice and experience at the helm.

Hannah paused for a moment and took in a short sharp breath, as she thought she'd seen a flash in her peripheral vision off to the left.  "Barfight." she queried calmly, "are you tracking any lightning?"  Double Down stole a glance down at the instrument cluster, but almost immediately her vision was back to the windshield and the inclement weather.
Tegyrius
GM, 598 posts
Thu 13 Oct 2016
at 00:57
  • msg #174

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

South of Freeport:

"Just rain so far," Barbrak informs Hannah.  "And we're taking fire now," is his next report as two of the Russians ineffectually open up on the new threat.

"Empire, '63, coming up on your eight o'clock," the Coast Guard pilot advises.  A few seconds later, the smaller helicopter's open door flashes in a yellow-white muzzle blast.  The .50 caliber round slams through the speedboat's stern just as the Russians' replacement helmsman tries to break back across Hannah's nose.  At 60 knots with no rudder control, the boat comes around, lifts, and tumbles, spraying men, weapons, and gear into the sea.

Inspector Symonette sets the safety on his FAL and lowers the rifle.  Karolina is fairly certain he emits a faint sigh of disappointment.

"Empire, '63, pursuit terminated," drawls the Dolphin's pilot.  "Be advised, we are not able to recover suspects from the water.  We can orbit and wait for a Bahamian boat crew or go get your VIP while you deal with these guys.  Your call, over."

Ahead, Ceelen's boat is throttling down, but the retired seaman is making no move to return to the scene of the brief and uneven firefight.  Hannah's stomach turns uneasily as she contemplates it - the idea of letting Ceelen out of her sight feels profoundly wrong somehow.
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:00, Thu 13 Oct 2016.
Michael Dacovetti
player, 253 posts
Tech Sgt, JSOC JCU
keys138
Thu 13 Oct 2016
at 20:46
  • msg #175

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


"Copy Bullfrog, Dealer moving to support.  Lizard King, can you move the VIP with the cops?"  With the trap sprung, Michael considered a mantra he'd heard enough times in tech school that he still dreamed about it: the best way to survive an ambush is through sheer aggression.  It was possible that the slogan was a bit of overkill, even at the time, Dacovetti had considered the decision matrix that could lead one to conclude that in certain instances, it was possible or even probably, that retreat was a better option.  This didn't seem like one of those scenarios.

And damn, he wanted to recover more alien tech.

The laptop slides easily back into the back that sits like a second skin on Dacovetti's back. "Green Four-Two, you have remote sensor ops, let me know what you see.  Coming out and moving toward the smoke."


Dacovetti
Bounding to cover
Moving towards crash site to support (and link up with) Seb
WASP with holo sight (27/27)
4 mags remaining
James Choi
player, 253 posts
Special Agt, FBI HRT
Raellus
Thu 13 Oct 2016
at 22:56
  • msg #176

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


The situation is evolving with alarming rapidity. Choi is forced to react- not a comfortable place. It chafed his operator's mindset, ceding the initiative and moving off the back foot.

"Roger that, Dealer." James answers, hopped up on adrenaline and jealous that his teammates were having all the fun. No time for a deep breath, though.

"Detective, the two armed men exiting Hawkin's are ours. Do not engage. Repeat, do not engage. I'm bringing Miss Hakwins out the front door. We're both gonna be armed. Tell your guys not to blow us away. Got that?"

He visualizes how it's going to go down and the thought image brings a fleeting smile to his face. The old lady's bridge club is never going to believe this shit.

"Miss Hawkins, you ready to go?"

-
Karolina Kowalska
player, 200 posts
Captain, GROM
Spartan-117
Sun 16 Oct 2016
at 06:10
  • msg #177

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

"Six-Three, this is Empire.  Please orbit here while we recover our VIP.  Please note that the combatants in the water are extremely dangerous," Lina said, giving the word combatant a special emphasis.  She'd purposefully not used the word suspects.

"Surviving combatants may be carrying biological, chemical, or radiological weapons or material.  I anticipate Bahamian authorities will formally request US Coast Guard assistance with rescue operations at this location.  Please advise your parent cutter and ask them to make best speed to this location.  Callsign Foundation will advise your Commanding Officer on recovery procedures via separate channel.  How do you copy, over?"

The last thing Lina wanted was for some un or under armed Bahamian rescue boat to show up and get taken over by an acid spitting extra-terrestrial.  She'd rather the survivors all drown while rescue procedures were sorted out.  Or maybe the Coast Guard already had protocol for fishing a dirty bomb wearing suicide bomber out of the drink that they could implement quickly.  If they did, it would probably involve lots of protection and lots of guns, which is exactly what you'd need if you were recovering a hostile alien as well.

Lina switched over to crew-comms. "Did you hear that Inspector?  I need your folks to get ours involved.  This rescue needs to be handled with kid gloves.  These guys are the real deal and I don't want anyone else get hurt," Kowalska said.  After sorting things out with Symonette, she did the same with Foundation.  After quickly lashing up the various parties to sort out how best to deal with the problems left in the water, Karolina glanced forward to the cockpit.

 "Alright Hannah, let's go get our guy."
This message was last edited by the player at 06:12, Sun 16 Oct 2016.
Hannah Omdahl
player, 174 posts
CWO2, U.S. Army
dcoda
Mon 17 Oct 2016
at 06:59
  • msg #178

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

"Roger that, Dancer." Double Down's voice crackled over the comm channel.  Even before the words had finished, the nose of the Knighthawk had begun to turn and dip towards Ceelen's slowing craft.

She trusted Barfight to keep his vigil on the scope and sound out distances.

Even before they reached space above the remaining powerboat though, Hannah prompted Lina over the crew channel, "Ma'am, far above Ceelen do you want us?"  She paused for a moment, to handle the controls more closely in a pocket of turbulence, "I'm not sure how close we can get with the inclement weather and heavy swells ..."

No matter how they sliced it, the extraction was likely to be dangerous.  Even without anyone shooting at them.
Karolina Kowalska
player, 202 posts
Captain, GROM
Spartan-117
Tue 18 Oct 2016
at 14:21
  • msg #179

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

"Put us above him and we'll lower the winch.  He's Navy, so we're going to give him a chance to self-rescue," Kowalska said as the MH-60 started to move toward Ceelen's boat.  She looked over at the Crad and Symonette.

"We need to get the winch and horse collar to the deck of the boat or in the water to ground it before he touches it.  In air like this, the rotors will put out enough static electricity to light up Chicago.  Let's try for radio contact on VHF 16," Lina said over comms.
Tegyrius
GM, 601 posts
Sat 22 Oct 2016
at 20:39
  • msg #180

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Homestead:

"Yep, I think it's time to leave," Hawkins says.  "Just make sure someone brings that fuzzy simpleton."  She lowers the revolver, slings her purse over her shoulder, and takes a deep breath.

"Copy that," Salcedo responds to James.  "741A, the feds are bringing the witness out now.  Do not blue-on-blue them.  Gimme a confirmation on that."

The shotgun-wielding cop on the sidewalk outside swings toward the idling pickup at the end of the street, lowering his muzzle and raising his support hand in a thumbs-up gesture.

With the borrowed Browning held at port arms, James thumbs the remote unlock and remote start buttons on his key fob and eases the front door open.  The six meters to the FBI Suburban are a vast, cover-free expanse of parched grass and sun-baked concrete.  James steps out, making brief eye contact with the officer behind the wheel of the Homestead cruiser.  Another step.  Another, and Hawkins latches the door with a faint sigh and follows him.  Six more quick steps, trying vainly to shield the elderly woman from every direction, and James is at the SUV.  He swings open the rear door and Hawkins clambers inside.  Giving the surrounding area another scan, the agent slides into the driver's seat and ditches the shotgun muzzle-down in the passenger-side footwell.



South of Freeport:

"Empire, Six-Three, we copy CBRNE hazard and will relay to Campbell.  She is already en route, ETA two-five minutes.  We will stay on station and provide cover for recovery efforts, over."  The Dolphin banks over the scattering of Russians and a bright orange package tumbles from its cargo door. blossoming into a raft as it hits the water.

Symonette nods, then pulls out his cell phone.  "It'll be official in two minutes.  I'll tell our boat to stay upwind.  They aren't equipped for this sort of... thing."  He tosses Karolina a wry smile.

As Hannah maneuvers the Knighthawk over Ceelen's boat, her feeling of unease intensifies.  The Navy veteran is no longer at the controls.  He's kneeling beside the helm, leaning heavily against the center console.  He raises his head and there's a flash of eye contact - then he slumps to the deck.  The boat is idling forward at about five knots, beginning a slow turn to starboard that will soon put it broadside to the seas.

"Shit," Caradoc spits on the intercom.  "Captain, we're going to need to put someone down there.  You, me, or Tristan?"



Homestead:

Rufus' claws tear up patches of turf as he flings himself across Hawkins' backyard.  Still snarling, the Malinois hurdles the picket fence, heading toward the tentacled thing's crash site.  Sébastien pursues rifle-first.

"Roger, and I have fuck-all," Crit advises as Michael moves out the back door.  "Whatever Bullfrog hit, he flipped all the switches."

The dog and two men charge across the neighboring yard.  At the far side is a taller privacy fence and a faint scent of ozone.  Rufus skids to a halt and begins snuffling along the fence's base, trying to find a way through, occasionally rearing up and pawing at the boards.  Sébastien, a tool-using primate with opposable thumbs, simply trips the latch in the gate.

The agents exchange a glance, take positions, and swing the gate open.  Their tactical approach is spoiled by Rufus, who shoulders the gate aside as soon as it starts swinging.  Beyond is a backyard swimming pool, from which a dissipating column of smoke - no, steam - is rising.  The dog paces back and forth at the pool's edge, snarling at the water.

As Sébastien and Michael draw close, the ozone smell grows stronger.  The water is still rippling from the object's impact, though it's not obviously boiling.  The thing Sébastien shot is on the bottom of the deep end.  The electrical corona is gone and it's still save for seemingly-random twitches in a couple of its tentacles.  A faint haze of dark liquid emanates from one of the .30 caliber holes in its dull metallic carapace.

The Miami PD helicopter clatters overhead, its camera turret swiveling to keep the swimming pool in sight through its tight bank.
James Choi
player, 255 posts
Special Agt, FBI HRT
Raellus
Sat 22 Oct 2016
at 22:43
  • msg #181

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


"Dealer, Bullfrog, Lizard King and package are waiting in the ride. When you can join us, please bring the dog."

His teammates are probably a little preoccupied at the moment, so James leaves off at that. There is still a chance that the team will need to bug out and fast, so James backs out of the driveway, turns 180 degrees, and the reverses so that the nose of the vehicle is pointed downslope, towards the street. He keeps the engine idling, pistol in one hand, cell in the other.

-
This message was last edited by the player at 01:25, Sun 23 Oct 2016.
Sebastien Durand
player, 347 posts
DGSE
Dave Ross
Sun 23 Oct 2016
at 11:47
  • msg #182

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

"Copy that." Durand replies to Choi tersely. The Frenchman's rifle remains trained on his target - that's the only rational way he can think of it - as he peers cautiously over the edge of the pool into the crystal clear water. His finger rests lightly on the trigger as he looks at the thing that he has brought down, ready to unleash a rapid fire sucession of single shots if it shows any sign of still being a threat.

Seeing the liquid ooze out of it and begin to discolour the water the DGSE Operator calls out to his team mate without taking his eyes of the target. "Does that look like it might be blood to you Mike?" Or at least what passed for blood as far as the Attars were concerned. It could be something else of course, some sort of mechanical fluid, the alien equivalent of oil. But if it was blood then that raised the possibility that some...thing was inside it.
Karolina Kowalska
player, 204 posts
Captain, GROM
Spartan-117
Mon 24 Oct 2016
at 08:50
  • msg #183

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Karolina nodded in agreement before pointing directly at Crewe.  Celeen clearly needed a medic and not an intelligence briefing.  "We are sending Painter down to rescue the VIP," Kowalska said over comms, to make sure Hannah knew that they would be lowering someone shortly.

"Tristan, give me a hand with this hoist," Lina said as they readied the equipment to hook up Crad and lower him to the foundering boat below.  She helped the Welsh Corporal doff any unneeded gear as well.

"Tug twice and we'll bring you back up," she added just before Painter cleared the door.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:11, Wed 26 Oct 2016.
Michael Dacovetti
player, 254 posts
Tech Sgt, JSOC JCU
keys138
Tue 25 Oct 2016
at 01:33
  • msg #184

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

"I...suppose...it could be?"  Seb's question has Michael flummoxed, not because it is particularly difficult, but because there are so many unknown variables that it is hard to formulate an entry point in the logic of the scenario.  The object in the pool is mechanical, to be sure, but Grey Cell has come into contact with enough bio-mechanical creations that the fluid oozing out could quite easily be described as blood.  It could also be nothing more than extraterrestrial hydraulic fluid.  The airman doesn't have enough information to say.  Hell, the pool could be electrically charged at this point.

"We should back away, Seb.  There is no way of telling what is coming out of that.  This area is officially a hazmat scene, and we need to complete our primary objective before another one of these cloaked things," pods?, "arrives."

Michael relocates several meters from the pools edge and sweeps the area via the Mk I eyeball and hopes that he doesn't seen any thing that looks suspicious before concluding that he doesn't even know what suspicious would look like.  He's going to require copies of the camera footage the helicopter shot for analysis.  And to reissue the GoPro rigs.

"Foundation, Empire Three.  We have one enemy device down.  I recommend we have Miami PD secure the area and have it declared a hazmat scene until friendly units can extract the device.  Primary objective is secured, we will be exifilling shortly."
Sebastien Durand
player, 348 posts
DGSE
Dave Ross
Tue 25 Oct 2016
at 20:12
  • msg #185

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Durand's nostrils wrinkle as the smell wafts up from the pool. "Oui, copy that." The DGSE operator says quietly, joining his colleague in taking several steps backwards, though his rifle remains trained in the general direction of the thing. If anything does come out of it Sébastien Durand has every intention of drilling several more holes in it. As he steps back he whistles softly. "Rufus, ici, maintenant." There is, of course, absolutely no logic in talking to the dog in French, so after a moment he repeats himself in English. "Come here."
Hannah Omdahl
player, 176 posts
CWO2, U.S. Army
dcoda
Wed 26 Oct 2016
at 23:14
  • msg #186

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Hannah let out a single, plaintive, Norwegian expletive the moment she saw Ceelen slump over.  In this weather she knew what it meant for an unguided craft.  Rescue difficulty was compounded by the vastly increased chance of the powerboat capsizing in these conditions.  Double Down didn't even want to think about what would be required to grab an unconscious man from the waters if that happened.

So, the auburn-haired army pilot concentrated on trying to not let that happen.  Hannah acknowledged Lina's decision to have Crewe volunteer to lowered down, "I'll try to get in as close as possible."  She could feel the wind buffeting the chopper through the stick as she tried to hold it steady.

Even though Hannah knew that Barbrak was already doing it, she noted to him with as calm a voice as she could manage, "Barfight, keep one eye on the VIP craft position and read out distance to target for me..."  Even then, she craned her neck to see if she could actually visually track the boat and its position as well.

And the rain continued to fall.  Double Down swore silently under her breath; there was just so much to keep track of.  Hannah knew she could do it - she'd had plenty of hours at the helm to for just such occasions, but this is why she hated flying in this weather.  Still, it was also potentially her chance to shine.
Tegyrius
GM, 605 posts
Mon 7 Nov 2016
at 02:12
  • msg #187

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Bahamian Territorial Waters:

Hannah matches course with the unpiloted (and fortunately idling) go-fast boat, then swings her nose perpendicular to the vessel's direction of travel.  Crabbing sideways for better visibility, she powers through the squall, holding the bird steady on three axes while the winch spools out cable and Caradoc.  The Welshman releases his harness just as a trough jerks the boat out from under him, and there's an agonized moment of free-fall before he slams into the boat.  A muffled curse comes over the radio, followed by:

"VIP is alive but semiconscious.  Looks like a heart attack.  I don't have a litter on board.  Send me a recovery strap."

Karolina finds the bright orange conveyance, attaches it to the hook, and sends the winch back down through the turbulent wind.  Caradoc clips in, loops the strap around Ceelen, and waves a thumbs-up.  A moment later, the boat is unmanned as patient and medic lift from the deck and swing over the waves.

"AED," Caradoc commands, pointing at the rucksack he strapped to the bulkhead upon boarding in Miami.  "Fuck, I need an EKG, not this idiot box," he mutters as his trauma shears slice through Ceelen's Hawaiian shirt.  "And this man needs a higher level of care."

"Princess Margaret in Nassau," interjects Symonette.  "If you need him on American soil, your closest is Ryder."

Hannah punches the names into her GPS - both trauma centers have helipads pre-registered in the system.  Princess Margaret Hospital is 92 miles to the south, while Ryder Trauma Center is 151 miles to the west.  At her best speed, it's 35 minutes to the Bahamian facility; Miami is another 20 minutes' transit time on top of that...



Homestead:

A security perimeter slams down on Hawkins' neighborhood with all the speed and force a post-9/11 metro police department can muster.  Within minutes, Sébastien and Michael are joined by a half-dozen Homestead and Miami officers, most wearing gas masks, all keeping a wary distance from the source of the haze now dissipating above the swimming pool.  Rufus continues pacing and growling, but the dog seems unaffected.  The thing beneath the diving board slowly stops twitching and settles limply to the pool's concrete floor, twelve feet down.

As far as Michael and his remote Australian minion can tell, the portion of the electromagnetic spectrum which the aliens have previously hijacked is quiet.  An Amber Cell retrieval team, with Bannon at its head, is rolling out from the airbase with a van full of tools and bad intentions.

The electric-blue Ford Raptor rolls slowly through the sea of police strobes and pulls up alongside the FBI Suburban.  Adriana Salcedo slides down from the driver's seat and strolls up to the G-ride.  "Hi," she says charmingly, extending a hand to Hawkins.  "Detective Salcedo, Miami Homicide."

Hawkins banks a raised eyebrow off the rearview mirror at James before tersely accepting the handshake.  "Darnell Hawkins, Retired Neighborhood Matron," she replies dryly.  "Has there been a homicide, Detective?"

"Not today," Salcedo says after a moment's consideration, with an unspoken yet.  "Walk with me, Special Agent Choi?"  She tilts her head toward the corner of Hawkins' house.

Outside the small phalanx of cops covering the polyglot octogenarian, Salcedo turns to James.  Her face is professionally rigid but the federal agent can hear the edge of tightly-controlled emotion in her voice.  "So right now, about five people in Miami have seen this," she says.  "But two of those are in my chain of command.  So no offense, Jim, but I need to know what the fuck is this X-Files shit.  Right.  Now."

She raises a tablet PC and twirls it around to face James.  Frozen on the screen is a high-resolution image, obviously downlinked from the police helicopter: a man-sized gray lozenge, hanging in midair, tentacles outstretched, purple electrical corona shimmering underneath, midsection just beginning to distend from the impact of a rifle bullet...
James Choi
player, 257 posts
Special Agt, FBI HRT
Raellus
Fri 11 Nov 2016
at 16:26
  • msg #188

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


Well, detective, it's some "X-Files shit", is what it is.

"Officially...," James almost grins- he's acting way above his pay grade now, "...it's a next-gen, military-grade stealth drone. We don't know how the terrorists got their hands on it, but they did. That's what you'll tell your bosses."

He raises his hand to stay the inevitable indignant response.

"Off the record?"

Salcedo tilts her head, her intense brown eyes never leaving his. The gesture is more ambiguous than James would like, but he doesn't see any other option. She's a smart woman and she already knows too much.

"It might not be of this world."

James watches, bemused, as credulity and doubt battle across Salcedo's face.

"That's right, detective, 'X-Files shit'. This is Above Top Secret, you understand that? I just put my entire fucking career in your hands. You can't tell anyone what I just told you or your career is fucked too. That thing is a 'next-gen, military-grade stealth drone', and that's it. We clear?"

-
This message was last edited by the player at 23:06, Sat 12 Nov 2016.
Hannah Omdahl
player, 178 posts
CWO2, U.S. Army
dcoda
Sat 12 Nov 2016
at 07:40
  • msg #189

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Hannah's lips were pressed into a thin, determined line.  She punched it and the frame of the Sikorsky MH-60S lurched forward ... and to the south.  Unless countermanded by the Kapitan, Double Down figured that time was of the essence and so, she made for Nassau.  The thin army aviatrix could hear the chatter in cargo hold over the comm channel.  She could hear the urgency in Crad's voice.  And knowing that Painter had been through plenty of combat situations, if his assessment was that Ceelen needed better facilities - then that was that.  It was her job to get them there in time.

Even as her hands worked the controls and she tried to ease her way up above the low-lying rainclouds, Double Down's mind was racing.  Heart attack... she repeated in her mind, Heart attack, just like the first three...

"Oh, god..." Hannah breathed quietly.

"Painter," the auburn-haired pilot prompted quickly and insistently, breaking into the conversation on the line, "remember at the hospital?  With Albinson?  The 'foreign body'?" even though she knew that the man would never be able to forget what they'd seen in that Miami pathology laboratory, "This can't be a coincidence ... Look for evidence ... an entry point, something ... If this is what I suspect it is, we've got to get that thing out of him!"  Her hands were tied up at the moment, but it didn't matter; Caradoc was the closest thing to a surgeon that they had.  If he couldn't handle the situation especially now that he knew what to look for, then no one else on-board had any chance.
Sebastien Durand
player, 350 posts
DGSE
Dave Ross
Sat 12 Nov 2016
at 13:49
  • msg #190

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Durand nods to the local cops as they establish a cordon of sorts around the perimeter, making sure that they know that he and Dealer - and Rufus - are the good guys. "Just so you know guys, there may be an unknown number of suspects still in the area." The situation appeared to be under control and more reinforcements were on the way but he hadn't forgotten about the black BMW or the silver Mercedes or their occupants.

"So stay alert. If they do show they should be considered armed and extremely dangerous. If they think that they are going to be captured they may attempt to kill themselves and anyone else in the area, so if they do come after us you need to shoot to kill." He's not actually saying to the cops that they're dealing with terrorists wearing suicide vests but if they want to draw that conclusion by themselves he won't dissuade them. "If you need to clear that my colleague is with the FBI so he's the guy you need to speak to."

Hopefully the ever expanding law enforcement presence would deter the aliens from making any more attempts to kill Hawkins, for now at least, but the DGSE operator doesn't want to take any chances, so his own stance is one of wary vigilance, eyes hidden by the polarized lenses of his sunglasses watching the area around the pool  as he waits for the retrieval team to arrive and begin the job of recovering whatever the fuck it was that he just shot.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:50, Sat 12 Nov 2016.
Michael Dacovetti
player, 256 posts
Tech Sgt, JSOC JCU
keys138
Sat 12 Nov 2016
at 20:01
  • msg #191

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


Michael Dacovetti, not being familiar with the protocols of law enforcement officers (but intimately familiar with posse comitatus (what with carrying weapons on US soil and all)) and the general swagger of special forces operators everywhere, adopts the same general pose of "this is my scene," beloved by introverts everywhere.  With a nod to the officer showing up, the airman walks around the pool until he locates the pump unit, and switches the drain on.  It's going to take a while to empty several thousand gallons of water, but they might as well get started.

That mission accomplished, he moves up next to Seb and stares at his own reflection in the agent's sunglasses for a second, ensuring that his own mirror shades in in place in a suitably imposing manner. "Interesting bird you shot there.  I find its interpretations of physics to be rather unsettling.  To say the least."

The one saving grace Grey Cell had in the encounter was that their enemy was still depending on the same narrow band of the electromagnetic spectrum.  It is beginning to appear that there technology may depend on it.  Certainly everything they've encountered so far has interfaced with it.  The same argument could probably be made of Grey Cell with their dependence on communications, LTE, and wi-fi, but their signal is swimming in the background.  Advantage: home team.  For now.  It's enough for him to keep his hand on his weapon, even if the weapon is poorly concealed under a coat.  A coat that is decidedly unwelcome in the Florida heat.

"If I was trying to kill us.  I'd do it now," he tells Seb quietly.  "Secondary device scenario."
Caradoc Crewe
NPC, 38 posts
Corporal, 21st SAS
Sun 13 Nov 2016
at 16:31
  • msg #192

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Caradoc pauses for a moment as Hannah's urgency percolates.  Then: "Aw, fuck me."  He resumes cutting away Ceelen's clothes, searching for an entry wound.  "We're gonna need a surgery.  I can't crack his chest in here.  Captain, grab my Ambu bag and get ready to breathe for him..."
Tegyrius
GM, 606 posts
Sun 13 Nov 2016
at 17:14
  • msg #193

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Homestead:

Salcedo's jaw works as she absorbs James' disclosure.  "This is where I should back away slowly," she says at last, "but that is a lot less subtle than a couple of Russians giving some old dude a stroke by injecting him with... nanobots."  The last word comes out with a quiver of tilting worldview.  She watches James' face for a long moment.  "God damn.  You're serious."

She draws a deep breath, tilts her head back, and exhales sharply while staring at the sky.  Then, with self-conscious effort, she jerks her gaze away from the clouds and pulls out her phone.

"Okay.  Okay."  She thumbs a number.  "Steve?  I twisted the feds' balls here.  It's some Air Force shit that went missing in Iraq last year.  They don't know how it got into the States... yeah... maybe.  Let's keep the shelter-in-place order up just in case it starts leaking something... no, I have no idea what it uses for fuel... no, keep Fire-Rescue out of this.  They have their guys on the way.  I say let them handle it, that way they eat the liability it it blows up."  With her free hand, she withdraws James' business card from her pocket.  "The FBI liaison is Choi, that's Charlie-Hotel-Oscar-India, first name James."  She reads off James' cell number.  "No, Quantico.  The local office knows he's here but they're supporting... yes, I checked him out."  She gives James an apologetic eye-roll.  "Okay.  Copy that.  Yes, I will... hang on."  She holds the phone away from her mouth.  "You're taking this thing to Homestead, right?"  At James' confirmation, she returns to the call.  "Homestead.  Really?  Thanks a lot, Steve.  Okay.  Adios, huevon."

Her shoulders slump as she hangs up.  "I just lied mi chocha off for you, Jim.  I'm still your local liaison but you may get a visit from my boss if I disappear tonight."  She gives the sky another edgy glance.  "So what's next?"



Under Sébastien's subtle prodding, the cops ramp down the gawking and shake out into some semblance of tactical organization.  There's a brief huddle down the street, then one of the patrol cars rolls aside to let a Nissan Pathfinder and an unmarked white panel van into the area.  The Nissan pulls past the house and stops.  Chief Bannon unfolds himself from the driver's seat and trots up to the pool.  "Who's a good alien-hunting boy?  You are!" he tells Rufus before stepping up to look into the pool.  "Okay, that is some seriously fucked-up teuthidian shit.  Nice shooting, Seb.  Mike, you're not wrong.  Let's get this thing secured and outta here.  It's still not emitting, right?"
Karolina Kowalska
player, 205 posts
Captain, GROM
Spartan-117
Sun 13 Nov 2016
at 19:02
  • msg #194

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

"Make for Princess Margaret, Karolina said over crew comms as she nodded at Crewe and reached for the manual resuscitator bag.

"Foundation, this is Empire Six.  VIP has suffered a cardiac event.  We are en route to Princess Margaret Hospital in Nassau.  Please alert their cardiac unit - I need the best surgeon they can locate scrubbed in and waiting.  Also, we need any data and analysis that's been conducted about the foreign body that was located in Subject Albinson, transmitted to Painter and myself as soon as possible.  How copy, over?"  As Lina spoke, she pulled an oral airway from the back and measured ear-to-mouth, then slid it in, upside down, twisting it into position halfway in.  She followed up with the ambubag, holding the mask tight with her left thumb while holding Celeen's jaw with four fingers.  Lina followed up with HQ to make sure her requests were understood while compressing the bag with her left hand at established, regular intervals.  Lina hoped that with their intervention and definitive care at the closest medical facility, Celeen would live.
James Choi
player, 263 posts
Special Agt, FBI HRT
Raellus
Thu 24 Nov 2016
at 15:45
  • msg #195

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


What's next? That's a very good question, detective.

Salcedo is a good liar, that much is clear. James wishes he'd thought of the Iraq bit- a touch of flavor that really competed the missing drone conceit. And she already knows more than any non-Grey Cell member should. Pushing her away now, full of questions as she must be, would only lead to more aggressive line of inquiry. That won't do. It's time to bring her into the fold.

James cocks an eyebrow, his tone playfully conspiratorial "Ever been to Homestead, detective? On-base, I mean?"

-
This message was last edited by the player at 21:18, Fri 25 Nov 2016.
Tegyrius
GM, 611 posts
Sat 26 Nov 2016
at 16:48
  • msg #196

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Princess Margaret Hospital
Nassau, Bahamas
10 June 2015
1537 hrs local (2037 hrs Zulu)

"Right.  Thanks, Doc.  Let us know as soon as he's safe to move."  Caradoc Crewe shakes the Bahamian cardiologist's hand and turns away, giving Tristan Baudin a head-tilt.  The two men make their way through the cordon of US Coast Guard personnel and Royal Bahamas Police officers around John Ceelen's room.

In the waiting room down the hall, George Symonette looks up from a Patrick O'Brian paperback, marking his place with a thumb.  He silently raises his eyebrows in inquiry.

"You'll want to hear this too, Inspector," Crad says as he pulls out his phone.  He thumbs Karolina Kowalska's number.  "Hey, Captain.  Ceelen is stable but he probably won't be awake 'til morning.  Tell Hannah she was right.  There was an injection mark on the back of his right thigh and the inspector's crew recovered a hypodermic dart from the marina.  Toxicology just came back.  Our Russians used a calcium gluconate solution to crash Ceelen's heart rate with an electrolyte imbalance."

He answers a few more questions, then signs off and turns to Symonette.  "We've transport coming for us but it'll be a few hours.  You mentioned a cousin with a restaurant, right?  Do they do take-away?"



Homestead Air Reserve Base
Homestead, Florida
Meanwhile...

"That's the piece we were waiting for," CWO3 Ted Bannon remarks as Karolina terminates the call.  He flips through a legal pad covered in illegible scrawls until he finds the page he wants.  "Okay.  The Coasties on Campbell recovered three live Russians and two dead ones.  They're all saying 'ya ne govoryu angliyski' but they'll be in port in about an hour.  Some question there as to who takes custody of them - Miami PD or FBI.  You guys can work that out," he continues, making eye contact with James Choi and Adriana Salcedo.  "Christophe, you're up."

Sergent-Chef Christophe Vidry clears his throat.  "The QRF followed the, ah, suspect vehicles out of the area.  The suspects split up at," he consults his own notes, "US Highway 1 and Palmetto Expressway.  The vicinity of the Dadeland Mall.  The QRF had only one vehicle and chose to stay with 'Charlie Sheen,' though they did get the tag number of the accompanying BMW.  The creature and its human driver went to the Delano Hotel on Collins Avenue, parked in the underground area, and entered the building through the staff entrance.  They terminated the operation at that time - the risk of detection was too high and there was a large civilian presence."  He gestures to Salcedo.  "When we gave Detective Salcedo the tag numbers, she also had some intelligence on the hotel."

Salcedo shifts in her seat next to James.  "The Delano's a Mad Max holding."  She leans forward.  "Maksimilian Konstantinov.  He's a high-level manager in the Basmanyskaya - our Russian mafia franchise.  They've been running prostitution, identity theft, and B-girl scams out of the Delano for at least five years, using a revolving door of shell company ownership."  She taps two fingers on the tabletop for emphasis.  "Grigori Polzin and Timofei Sokolov are - uh, were both on his payroll."

"Awesome.  Anyone have recent thermals of Max?" Bannon asks rhetorically.  "Thanks, Christophe, Detective.  Commander - how are our vets doing, and what's the word from DC?"

"We've done a little more of a debrief on Miss Hawkins and gone back over some things with Chief Paddon," Commander Stephen Vest says, with a hand gesture that encompasses James, Hannah Omdahl, and Sébastien Durand.  He shakes his head.  "Darnell Hawkins was probably the smartest person in the room during most of her time at the squadron, and that's saying something.  She's confirmed that her job was to translate 'Anomaly Fifteen,' which is apparently the language that the alien ships' controls used.  I'm saying 'language' but Chief Omdahl suggested that it's as much programming as communication."  He flicks a glance toward Hannah.  "There's also, uh," he swallows, "an apparent psychic component to it.  From her description of the artifacts she saw, it sounds like the ships were crewed by the little gray dwarves.  She wasn't familiar with any aliens like the Attars.

"I sent a summary of those conversations to my boss in DC.  He did some digging and came up with a couple of property receipts and transport orders.  It looks like the squadron's records were sent to China Lake in 1964, after the squadron was shut down.  My office has a team en route there now to chase that paper trail.  I've also asked my boss to talk to NSA to reassure them that Miss Hawkins is safe in our custody."

"Thanks, sir."  Bannon checks his notes again.  "Okay, twidgets.  Talk to us about the alien space squid."

Feldwebel Marie Kohl glances at Michael Dacovetti and Barbrak Tarabi before speaking.  "Limited success.  Sergeant Dacovetti confirmed it's not emitting anything and that its outer shell is some sort of radar-absorbent ceramic.  Another substance no one's seen before.  Doctor Boulos wants to get his hands on it immediately."  She pauses.  "As does Doctor Ghosten.  Once they opened the shell, she ordered us to stop disassembling it.  When they found, ah, organic material."

"Holy fuck." Vest sits upright in alarm.  "Is it dead?"

"We think so, sir.  It's not reacting to anything.  But we have armed guards on it just in case.  And to keep the dog from attacking it," Kohl concludes dryly.

"Are you fucking kidding me?  Is this another alien species?"  Bannon runs a hand through his hair.  "Christ.  Anything else on the intel side?"

"One new item," Kohl replies.  "We've been trying to monitor all of our veterans' phone lines and other modes of communication.  Just before this meeting, someone tried to call Commander Ceelen's home and mobile numbers.  The calls trace back to the attorney's office where Admiral Frye was killed."

"Roger that."  Bannon stretches in his chair.  "Does anyone have anything else to report out?  If not, let's talk courses of action."
James Choi
player, 266 posts
Special Agt, FBI HRT
Raellus
Tue 29 Nov 2016
at 18:26
  • msg #197

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


"They knew we were coming."

It had taken some doing, getting the core Grey Cell team alone in the same room, before they all dispersed to run down intel, harass judges, or dissect space cephalopods, and without peripheral personnel insinuating themselves into the private confab. But here they were; James estimated they had five minutes before someone came looking.

"The pattern," James continues, "it's changed. Before we arrived in Florida, the assassinations were occurring days apart. Since we got here, there've been two hits in the last 48 hours- three if the flying squid was sent to kill Hawkins. Our house call and the overwhelming show of force we phoned in probably saved her life."

"So, we've got a steep increase in ET naughtiness, coinciding with our arrival here. It could be a coincidence but I don't think it is. They're tracking us, somehow, either ELINT or..." it's so obvious that doesn't have to say it, but he does anyway, "we've got a rat in the kitchen."

James wonders if it is indeed a bombshell that he just dropped. His teammates are smart. He halfway expects to hear, "No duh, Choi."

Instead, crickets. He almost sighs in relief.

"Yeah, this is big. Thing is, I don't know what to do about it. We can't operate in a vacuum. This thing is too big for just us already. But we have to figure out how to compartmentalize our operations- to isolate crucial information- as much as possible so that we avoid tipping off our quarry. We have to figure out who we can trust and who we shouldn't. The only thing I got right now is to float something, disinformation - something subtle- very selectively, and see if it leaks. For that to work, we need to identify the most likely source of the leak ahead of time- whether it's electronic or human."

He almost couldn't say that last word, remote though the possibility that the Attar's had managed to plant one of their own in the most secret organization on the entire planet.

"We might only have one shot at this. Thoughts?"

-
This message was last edited by the player at 02:58, Wed 30 Nov 2016.
Karolina Kowalska
player, 213 posts
Captain, GROM
Spartan-117
Wed 30 Nov 2016
at 14:52
  • msg #198

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

"Certainly the aliens have increased their OPTEMPO and it is possible that it is due to our presence and not a mole.  Still, precautions should be taken," Lina said with a nod.

"Seb and Mike, when we are done here, I want you to check your sidearms and then go get that dog and walk it through Cave.  See if it keys on anyone and be ready if he does," Kowlaska said.  For a brief moment, Lina wondered if TVP might want the rights to Pięć Operatorzy i Pies once everything was declassified.

"As for 'something to float', I'd say we spread the word that we just got off the phone with Andrey and that the two Russians are well-known to him.  He's certain they will provide us information if he is able to speak with them and we cut a deal to get them extradited back to Russia.  We'll meet the boat in port in three hours for a full debrief from them.  Let everyone know that in the mean time we'll check on Herrera."  Karolina was hoping that the prospect of their own leak would force the adversary's hand.

"Once that's out, I'd say Hannah spins up the chopper, files a flight plan for Port Charlotte, and once in the air we divert east.  We land or fast rope onto the Campbell before she arrives.  Gives us some quality time with the Russians and allows us to be ready if anyone is preparing to meet them dockside."

"Alternatives?" Lina asked.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:57, Wed 30 Nov 2016.
Michael Dacovetti
player, 262 posts
Tech Sgt, JSOC JCU
keys138
Wed 30 Nov 2016
at 17:31
  • msg #199

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


"I concede that it is possible that we have an informant in our midst," Dacovetti says.  "But it is also possible, especially given the recent demonstration in cloaking technology, that they have also been watching our deployments.  It is not hard to conceive of them using their spacecraft as spy satellites much like we are doing.  Grey Cell can't be that hard to locate if you know what to look for."

The TACP pauses and looks at his teammates.  "None of that, of course, implies that we shouldn't treat the possibility of internal compromise as extremely serious.  The damage of even making such allegations in this environment could be considerable.  Therefore, I agree that most of our actions should be rather subtle, at least at first.

"I am more than willing to conduct a sweep with Seb and our canine recruit.  After that, I will attempt an electronic audit of the squadron.  My working theory to date has been that our data signal was hiding in the general data noise of humanity.  This may have been incorrect and we may be broadcasting something that stands out as an anomoly.  Or someone else might be broadcasting something we should be informed of.  That should be simple to hide given that we are still searching for possible transmissions from the anti-grav disc.

As to whether or not we move forward and grab the Russians for a chat, I leave to more capable clandestine minds than mine.  I will be happy to go forward or not."

With his verbal dump complete, Michael sits back and waits for the others to process.
Sebastien Durand
player, 359 posts
DGSE
Dave Ross
Fri 2 Dec 2016
at 16:36
  • msg #200

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Durand shoots Dacovetti a look that's intended to convey 'told you' when the subject of the organic material inside the thing that he had shot comes up. He's tempted to say 'of course it's fucking dead' when Vest sits up even although that's not exactly been confirmed, instead contents himself with a satisfied grin and a quick fist bump with Christope Vidry. With another alien kill, a lack of self confidence is not a problem that Sébastien Durand is experiencing.

Leaving the main briefing Durand had then followed the other members of the core team into a private room, now sat back in a chair, his stance casual, though his mind was anything but relaxed as he listened to Choi's theory. The Frenchman simply nodded in the affirmative to acknowledge Dancer's instructions. flashed Dealer a quick thumbs up.

Once the American airman had said his piece Durand took a drink from a bottle of Evian that he was holding, leaned forward in his chair. "Mike, we know that the other side have some sort of counter measure that interferes with our thermals." The Frenchman could still remember the painful itch when he'd looked through his sight at the Hawkins' house. "This this might sound stupid, but if the dog is able to somehow detect when an alien is close by how does it do it? I mean, what is it picking up on? Scent? Sound waves? Is there any way that we can find out and then replicate that, so that we're not reliant only on the thermals? Without hurting the dog obviously. Maybe Madame 'Awkins might know." <i>
Hannah Omdahl
player, 182 posts
CWO2, U.S. Army
dcoda
Fri 9 Dec 2016
at 07:09
  • msg #201

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Hannah had been quiet for most of the debriefing - having little to add to the summaries beyond a few nods to confirm the veracity in her part of the various findings.

No, the auburn-haired army pilot was simply contemplating Cryptologic Technician Darnell Hawkins.  She wanted to like Ms. Hawkins; she really did.  And it was undeniable to her that the woman was whip-smart - a real firecracker when she got wound up was her perception of the retired tech.  She might even rival Dealer on the IQ chart, for Hawkins was certainly much smarter than Hannah.  And for her part, she did like Darnell - she really did.

But Double Down was also slightly unnerved when talking to Senior Chief Hawkins; something about the conversations with the elderly woman made it seem like she could see right through Hannah - and that was only over the remote link.  Plus the fact that some of the stuff that Hannah had divulged seemed like Darnell had already been considering or had concluded some time ago (like forty years in the past).  It made her feel like she was in her first year of high school in her mother's rhetoric class all over again.

It didn't help that her reverie was broken by the news that the downed craft had had 'organic material' in it.  Whether Bullfrog was celebrating, Double Down was more worried about what integration of that pilot for that craft with the craft itself seemed to imply.  It was all getting a bit far out for her.

Either that or she was starting to warm up to the idea.

Both prospects were troubling to the American helicopter pilot from northern Minnesota.
Tegyrius
GM, 622 posts
Wed 21 Dec 2016
at 01:12
  • msg #202

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Homestead Air Reserve Base
Homestead, Florida
10 June 2015
1550 hrs local (2050 hrs Zulu)

Plans are laid.

Rufus, under the supervision of Sébastien and Michael, snuffles his way through the hangar and across the ramp outside.  Other than his continued aggression toward the "flying squid" where it's being packaged for shipment, he's the picture of friendly doggy contentment.  He seems mildly disappointed when Ricky hisses at him and leaps to a perch atop one of the team's rolling weapons lockers.

Adriana Salcedo watches the proceedings around the tentacled device/creature with an expression that's equal parts horror and indignation.  Her posture suggests she's ready to flee if it so much as twitches an appendage.

Michael's instrumentation likewise returns no result of note.  The team's electronic emissions are exactly what they should be, and the space squid remains quiescent.

Darnell Hawkins allows the loan of her companion without comment, but the guarded expression that flitters across her face says volumes.  She does not stray far from Hannah until the sweep is complete, intently watching the pilot and Barbrak preflight the Knighthawk.

Karolina prepares an initial smoke-check of the task force and releases it into the wild before quietly pulling Commander Vest and Chief Bannon aside.

Robert Paddon's slitted eyes belie his position of repose on one of the team's folding cots.  His right hand remains under the folded sweatshirt he's using as a pillow.



USCGC Campbell
International waters off Miami, steaming south
10 June 2015
1732 hrs local (2232 hrs Zulu)

The Knighthawk crouches on the Coast Guard cutter's helipad, its smoky grey hue and narrow-eyed French security team both distinctly out of place on the sleek white vessel.  Chief Bannon leads the way alongside the cutter's own Chief of the Boat, clearing the way via the shadowy mechanisms of the ancient Chiefs' Mafia.  Commander Vest breaks off from the group for his own conversation with the cutter's captain.

A grim-faced Polynesian petty officer second class whose name tape reads KARETU ushers the delegation into a small interior compartment, thick with engine vibration and the smell of paint.  Even with Bannon and the COB remaining outside, it's crowded with Karolina, Sébastien, Hannah, and Barbrak.  It becomes moreso when PO2 Karetu returns with a flex-cuffed Russian.  The prisoner's ill-fitting borrowed jumpsuit does little to conceal a well-honed physique, and his eyes flicker over the quartet of new arrivals in immediate appraisal.  His face remains professionally blank.

"Your prisoner, ma'am," Karetu tells Karolina.  He sets his back to the door, one hand on the retention hood of his holster.  "We don't have a name.  They ditched their IDs before we picked them up."



Outside Coel, Young, and Abbey, PLLC
Miami, Florida
Meanwhile...

"David Coel."  Detective Salcedo pronounces the name as if she's reading from an arrest warrant.

The stocky blond man in the dark blue suit gives a start and drops the messenger bag into the passenger seat of his Audi.  "Yes?" he responds with more than a touch of apprehension.  Behind thick glasses, his eyes go from Salcedo to James and Michael, then back to the woman.

Salcedo hooks a thumb in the pocket of her jeans, sweeping back her jacket to reveal the badge clipped to her belt.  "Adriana Salcedo.  I interviewed you about George Frye."  She waves her other hand in the general direction of the parking space where the late admiral's extraterrestrial assassin struck.

"I remember."  Frye's attorney straightens and thumps the car's door shut with a hip.  "Is there something new?  I'm happy to assist," he lies around tensed shoulders, "but I'm on kind of a tight schedule tonight."

"As a matter of fact, there is."  Salcedo gives him a thin, insincere smile and gestures toward the task force agents.  "But I'll let my federal colleagues explain."
This message was last edited by the GM at 12:08, Wed 21 Dec 2016.
James Choi
player, 268 posts
Special Agt, FBI HRT
Raellus
Sat 24 Dec 2016
at 16:34
  • msg #203

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


"Special Agent James Choi, FBI." James shows his Bureau I.D. rather than offering his hand. He made sure that the lawyer got a glimpse of his pistol as he withdrew the credentials.

"I'll cut right to the chase Mr. Coel. Three assassinations of U.S. military veterans in the same three day period and you're the one common denominator. As a matter of fact, you spoke to one of the victims just seconds before he was killed. That's such a coincidence that it's clearly not. Now, we have our theory; I wanted to take you in immediately but the good detective here convinced me to give you a chance to explain yourself. So, Mr. Coel, your office or mine?"

-
Michael Dacovetti
player, 265 posts
Tech Sgt, JSOC JCU
keys138
Sun 1 Jan 2017
at 21:02
  • msg #204

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Michael stands behind agent Choi, three paces behind and two to the agent's right.  That perfect spot to utilize his own weapon should the situation devolve into violence.  While the FBI agent chats, Dacovetti stands impassively, mirrored shades obscuring his eyes and tilts his head just, so, in what he supposes is the imitation of a short tempered government agent, not a member of the armed forces in active violation of federal law.  Not that this situations is in any danger of approaching the first time he as carried weapons and operated inside the borders of the continental United States.  There are laws and there is reality.

Speaking of reality, the airman considers momentarily just how far niceties like search warrants matter in the face of armed extraterrestrial incursion.  Sure, there are all the arguments to be made about totalitarianism and the importance of a free people.  There is also the counter argument to be considered about extinction, etc...  It's not like Michael really cares if the admiral goes to jail.  If they don't have black sites yet for active conspirators to their new guests, it's only a matter of time.

That probably drives Dacovetti's next bit of external dialog:  "I highly suggest your office, Mr. Coel.  There's a 90% I'm going to hear screaming somewhere in the vicinity and be forced to intervene should you select ours."   
Karolina Kowalska
player, 218 posts
Captain, GROM
Spartan-117
Tue 3 Jan 2017
at 07:31
  • msg #205

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

"Я не знаю, кто вы два dickheads есть, но у вас есть пять минут, чтобы убедить меня, вы не Borz и Elbek Ахмадов, чеченские вражеские combants, которые в скором времени присоединятся к их братьев-мусульман в dentention лагере Гуантанамо, короткий 90 милях от Вот. Я уверен, что вы слышали, наш измельчитель землю. После того, как Катынь и Смоленск, я заверил американца, что я был бы счастлив, чтобы высадить вас туда сам."

Lina looked at her watch.

"Four and a half minutes," she said, this time in English.  A perverse smile crossed her lips that clearly indicated that she'd just as soon these two rotted in hell.

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
I don't know who you two dickheads are, but you have five minutes to convince me you are not Borz and Elbek Akhmadov, Chechen enemy combants that will shortly be joining their Muslim brothers at the Guantanamo Bay dentention camp, only 90 miles from here.  I'm sure you heard our chopper land.  After Katyn and Smolensk, I assured the American's that I'd be happy to drop you off there myself. 

This message was last edited by the player at 07:32, Tue 03 Jan 2017.
Tegyrius
GM, 626 posts
Wed 4 Jan 2017
at 02:47
  • msg #206

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

USCGC Campbell

Interrogations occur.

Karolina and Sébastien are two intelligence professionals at the top of their respective games.  Hannah is an untutored novice - but whatever forced evolution is still ongoing within her mind has, at least today, given her an uncanny capacity to read kinesics.

The Russians are Timofei Sokolov (he of Nininger State Veterans' Nursing Home security footage fame), Vladimir Utkin, and Yuliy Bogdanov.  Sokolov is a Spetznaz veteran; the other two are former Russian Army conscripts of no particular importance.  All three are in the employ of Maksimilian Konstantinov.  Together with the late Grigori Polzin and the two others killed in the speedboat chase, they represent a sizeable fraction of Basmanyskaya enforcement manpower in Miami.

They don't know why Konstantinov gave them a syringe of unnamed liquid and ordered them to inject it covertly into Dana Albinson, nor why they were issued a similar device and hasty instructions to delete John Ceelen.  Nor do they know why their associates likewise received marching orders to gun down Paul Stephanidis or similarly deliver covert drug cocktails to Quentin Gardner and Floyd Waters.  But there are new faces meeting with Konstantinov of late, slender men in dark suits with cold smiles and unreadable body language, men who the Basmanyskaya thugs are sometimes ordered to accompany to places for unexplained errands.  Konstantinov, whose reputation for professional, precise brutality spans forty years and three continents, is afraid of these newcomers, though he hides it from everyone but Sokolov and Polzin.

Within the past week, the newcomers' demands have been more urgent, as if an operational timetable has been upset.

Utkin and Bogdanov profess a distinct lack of curiosity about these men, and when they do so, Hannah's eyes reflect a residual violet flicker around their heads.  The touch of something is upon them, something that has guided their thoughts away from certain topics.

Sokolov, whether through training or natural tenacity, seems more resistant to the conditioning that has been laid upon him.  He is able to draw all three faces the newcomers wear.

And once, he was assigned to drive them to an office park in Miramar.



Coel, Young, and Abbey, PLLC

Interrogation occurs.

David Coel knows what happens to soft white-collar professionals in federal prison, or at least he believes he does.  He very much wants to avoid that fate.

He is the executor of Admiral George Frye's estate.  Among Frye's many possessions was a safe deposit box.  Banking protocols being what they are, it has taken some time for Coel to gain access to it and work his way through the documents within.  When he was certain of what he had, he contacted John Ceelen immediately, as per Frye's instructions.

John Ceelen now owns a shell company in Belize, which, in turn, holds a private island off the Belizean coast and a de Havilland Otter with the range to fly direct between there and Miami.
Hannah Omdahl
player, 185 posts
CWO2, U.S. Army
dcoda
Wed 4 Jan 2017
at 08:49
  • msg #207

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

USCGC Campbell

Hannah hadn't been looking for it; hell, she didn't even know what it is that she saw really.  But the lithe army pilot noticed it nonetheless.  It was quite subtle, but when you knew what to look for it became more obvious.  At first, Double Down thought it was a nervous tick.  She'd been watching Dancer and Bullfrog work their own sort of magic.  Even though she was pretty sure that the two had never worked together on this type of interrogation (at least in the time she'd known them), they somehow made a good team - to her eyes a sort of bad cop, worse cop combination - neither being particularly forgiving in their stances.  And with this particular set of Russian emigres, the tactic seemed to work quite well.

So, she stood back leaning on the bulkhead near the door, trying to look nonchalant and just observe.  You know, watch how both the captors and captives interacted.  Hannah was sure that she was missing plenty, especially since her Russian sucked.  Beyond a number of aviation technical terms and a few choice expletives - all courtesy of Barfight, of course - Double Down's vocabulary was meager at best.  And since there were thirty-seven different words for 'snow' in Russian, the battle to follow the conversation was lost before it even began for her really.  All she could do was to try and watch body language more than anything else.

But, the situation also allowed her to freely associate.  And it turned out that when her mind wandered in a specific way, she was able to initially notice the prickling at the base of her neck when the violet flickers occurred concerning the topic of the new 'visitors' and their boss.  It started with the dismissive gestures, but something about them seemed affected to her - almost autonomic or reflexive.  It was then (and only then) that she conferred with her Grey Cell teammates about what she'd seen.  And in order to not break their flow, Double Down asked them only for a couple of signals that she use to inform them if any other topics elicited any similar responses.

Double Down also kept an eye on Barfight.  She didn't want their Afghani mechanic doing anything rash; they needed him as a co-pilot.  And they didn't seem to need him for translations as Karolina and Sébastien seemed more than able.  Still, he would mutter a few words in English for her benefit as the interrogation wore on.  His body language was easy to read - especially once the word 'Spetznaz' was uttered.  Her hand on his shoulder, it wasn't difficult to feel him bristle slightly.  Thankfully, nothing more outwardly aggressive showed from their chief mechanic.

She looked at the pictures drawn by the one called Sokolov to see if anyone of them is recognizable as Attar or Charlie Sheen.  But obviously, Hannah couldn't correlate any of the movements or confessed assassination attempts until the debrief afterwards.  And of course, during the debrief, Double Down gave a full account of what she'd seen.  It's pretty obvious to her that they need to visit Miramar.  And that the enemy is becoming both less subtle, but also quite refined in their actions.  Whatever was done to the minds and memories of these men was much more targeted than anything that they'd seen in the past.  It was just one more thing to worry about...
Michael Dacovetti
player, 266 posts
Tech Sgt, JSOC JCU
keys138
Thu 12 Jan 2017
at 03:08
  • msg #208

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

"Excuse me," Dacovetti says to the assorted group of law enforcement officers and newly cooperative legal professional. "I have a phone call to make.  May I borrow this please?"  Without waiting for an answer, the airman takes the small stack of papers describing the holdings of a certain Belizean corporation and scoops them into his hands.  "I'll return these momentarily."

Forgoing permission, Michael appropriates an empty office and lays out the documents, then quickly snaps scans using his iPhone.  The electronic files are subjected to a heavy encryption protocol then squirted to Foundation.  A quick text message follows:

Frye owned an island near Belize.  Ownership was transferred to Ceelen.  Exact location in documents.  Recommend immediate electronic monitoring. Satellite recon when available.

With the documents secured and the Task Force wheels in motion, Dacovetti returns the documents to Frye's attorney.  "Unless Mr. Coel has anything further for us, I suggest we allow him to get back to his life.  Although I do think you should consider a vacation for a week or so, sir." 
James Choi
player, 271 posts
Special Agt, FBI HRT
Raellus
Thu 12 Jan 2017
at 23:49
  • msg #209

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


James holds his hand up, indicating that the lawyer's reprieve is contingent upon his reply to the question that follows. "I want to know what else is in that safety deposit box. Are the contents still in your possession?"

-
This message was last edited by the player at 23:57, Thu 12 Jan 2017.
Tegyrius
GM, 631 posts
Fri 13 Jan 2017
at 00:54
  • msg #210

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Coel, Young, and Abbey, PLLC:

Michael's phone vibrates in response:

NGA imagery in 15 min. Next satellite avail. 9hrs. Checking other assets.

David Coel's shoulders hunch defensively.  "Yes.  It's all memorabilia.  I don't think..."  He trails off at James' expression.  "Here."  He swivels his chair, opens a door on the credenza behind his desk, and withdraws a lumpy manila envelope.  Salcedo takes the envelope without comment and slides its contents out across Coel's blotter:

A worn silk drawstring pouch with a woman's engagement and wedding bands.

A set of rear admiral's stars.

Four photographs of a much younger George Frye in early Cold War-era flight gear, among several other men in similar apparel, Navy working uniforms, and lab coats.  The backdrop of each is a different section of anonymous hangar or Quonset hut.

A hand-embroidered circular patch depicting a helmeted, flight-suited man in cowboy boots astride a rocket, eyes closed.  The motto across the bottom reads "SINE ALIS VOLARE."

And a faceted jade spindle, three inches long and one inch thick, with a hairline crack paralleling its long axis.
Karolina Kowalska
player, 222 posts
Captain, GROM
Spartan-117
Fri 13 Jan 2017
at 15:29
  • msg #211

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Following the interrogations, Karolina met with Vest, Durand, and Omdahl.

"Based on the information we've obtained, I think our best bet is to rendezvous with the others back at Homestead.  If we hit the office park, I want it to be a surprise, so nothing goes back to Foundation about it.  We fly back, brief Choi and Dacovetti face-to-face and if we decide to strike the office park, we don't tip our hand when we leave Homestead to do it."

Kowalska looked deadly serious, though those who worked with her before knew that she was pausing right now for questions or comments.
Sebastien Durand
player, 365 posts
DGSE
Dave Ross
Fri 13 Jan 2017
at 15:49
  • msg #212

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

”D’accord.” OK. Durand’s expression did not change when Dancer spoke about keeping the information that they had just obtained compartmentalised. As an Intelligence officer he was accustomed to keeping others out of the loop. Need to know.

The Frenchman looked at the Polish Captain. ”We probably need to tell the local police something if we hit the office building. Otherwise we risk a blue on blue if someone dials 112 and they send the local SWAT team.” He’d automatically used the standard number for dialling the Emergency Services across most of the EU. ”Choi can probably deal with that through the Detective, Salcedo.”
James Choi
player, 274 posts
Special Agt, FBI HRT
Raellus
Sat 14 Jan 2017
at 19:46
  • msg #213

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


"We'll be taking this," James announces, indicating the assorted "memorabilia" strewn across the table. He'd instantly recognized the jade spindle- it's not something that should end up at an estate sale. "I'll be happy to sign a receipt for it if you like."

James reaches into his inside jacket pocket and pulls out a business card. He presses it on the table and, with his index finger, slowly slides it towards Coel. "You think of anything else, you call this number." It connects to a Grey Cell burner, a phone he hasn't used before. The only thing printed on the plain white cardstock is, J.C. and the number. Used only once, it'd be impossible to trace.

"See, that wasn't so hard was it? We appreciate your cooperation, Mr. Coel. We'll be in touch. You have a nice day." James adds with a half smile.

-
Tegyrius
GM, 640 posts
Thu 19 Jan 2017
at 02:09
  • msg #214

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Islas Canarias Restaurant
Miami, Florida
10 June 2015
2103 hrs local (0203 hrs Zulu)

The small private dining room is a long way from a SCIF, both geographically and metaphorically.  But the owner and Adriana Salcedo go way back, and she is fairly certain that even on this Friday night, there are no reptiloids on staff.  James Choi's thermal imager, Michael Dacovetti's messenger bag full of ELINT gear, and Hannah Omdahl's eerie intuition all agree.  And with the choice of dining establishment not made until the team was pulling out of Homestead Air Reserve Base's gate, no one knows where Grey Cell is except the people assembled around the table.

"Ceelen'll probably be unconscious for another few days," Caradoc Crewe reports around a mouthful of ropa vieja.  "Nothing's certain at his age but he should recover fully."

"Good news," Commander Stephen Vest says.  He checks his watch.  "Campbell should be linking up with Vicksburg about now.  If you decide you want the Russians to disappear, the cruiser can get them to Guantanamo.  Also, the Coast Guard has Thetis on station in the Gulf.  She can refuel a Seahawk."

The tablet PC sitting between the remains of two plato gran picada platters is frozen on a four-month-old satellite image of a small island fourteen miles off Placencia, Belize.  It's not much as islands go, an eight-acre dot in the middle of the Belize Barrier Reef.  The only safe approach for boat or seaplane is through a channel to the south, and even that would require a steady hand.  But the sprawling whitewashed three-story manor shows definite signs of habitation, as does the trio of Quonset hut outbuildings.  A 50' sportfisher and a 40' utility boat were moored at the dock when the image was taken.  The next satellite pass over the island will occur at 0400, with another scheduled for daylight shortly before local noon.

On another notebook PC's screen, the office park that recently accepted an alien delivery lies amidst canals and catchbasins, with only limited access on foot or by road.  The address occupies the northeastern end of an L-shaped building that also houses an Asian food distributor, a portable generator dealership, and an office furniture showroom.  The property was listed for lease until three weeks before the first veteran's death.  Archived web pages show typical light industrial construction and a floor plan with 22,000 square feet of refrigerated warehouse space and 2,000 square feet of generic office.  The office part of the space is oriented southeast, overlooking a narrow parking lot and a greenery-choked artificial pond.  The full-length glass is heavily tinted.  On the opposite (northwest) side is a loading dock with eight roll-up doors and a single personnel door, which opens into a break area.

Map update: https://drive.google.com/open?...7_So&usp=sharing

Vest, Barbrak, and Painter are here, as are all the PCs.  Are Salcedo, Bannon, and/or any other NPCs present?
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:25, Thu 19 Jan 2017.
Karolina Kowalska
player, 228 posts
Captain, GROM
Spartan-117
Thu 19 Jan 2017
at 18:19
  • msg #215

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

"So we have at least these two courses of action," Karolina said as she nodded toward both screens.  "The island is intriguing, but if that intel has been compromised, it seems difficult to believe that our whirlygig will get us there faster than the star faring aliens, if they chose.  The Russian's intel is unlikely to have leaked as this point however, since it's been compartmentalized to just us and not transmitted electronically." Kowalska said, considering both options.

"If both sets of intel are still intact, then we retain either options and Russian intel is the most immediately actionable, though the island may allow us to best preempt the ET's objective."  Lina paused for a moment, then reached for a plantain chip.

"Thoughts?" she asked before popping the banana like fried fruit in her mouth.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:19, Thu 19 Jan 2017.
Sebastien Durand
player, 368 posts
DGSE
Dave Ross
Fri 20 Jan 2017
at 10:42
  • msg #216

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Durand shifts slightly in his seat, washes down some Cuban fried chicken with a soda. A beer would have been preferable but they were on duty. "If we go to the island we are taking ourselves out of the immediate area." The Frenchman says just loudly enough for those gathered around the table to hear. "However, as you say if the enemy find out about it they may have technology that will allow them to get there much faster than we can." Although whether they would be prepared to use that technology was a different question. A flying saucer hovering over a Caribbean island in broad daylight might be difficult to conceal, and thuis far their enemy had attempted to remain relatively clandestine.

Durand takes another sip of the coke. A sudden thought has crossed his mind. Probably irrelevant. But perhaps not. "You know, that island is not too far from Florida and French Guiana." The Americans were not the only ones with space launch facilities in this area. Durand's last assignment before joining Grey Cell had been at the Centre Spatial Guyanais , the French spaceport in Kourou. It was probably a coincidence. Durand still had friends in Kourou of course. Including amongst the Foreign Legion garrison.

"My vote is to hit the office park. Now, whilst it's dark. We make the primary assault, Salcedo makes sure that law enforcement have their best people on site to support us. Tell them it's an anti terror op, that the bad guys are highly trained Islamic terrorists who will blow themselves up rather than surrender so their orders are to shoot to kill." It meant misleading the police. Fuck it, it meant lying to them. But it might give them a degree of forewarning as to the nature of their adversary.  The Frenchman shrugs. "Hit them hard, hit them fast."
Michael Dacovetti
player, 274 posts
Tech Sgt, JSOC JCU
keys138
Fri 20 Jan 2017
at 17:59
  • msg #217

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

"I concur with Seb," Dacovetti says around the greasiest and most delicious Cuban sandwich he's ever tasted.  If the conversation wasn't so serious, he would contribute to his companions that the plantains were simply outstanding as well. Alas, the pressing concerns of extraterrestrial and terrorist marriage supersede such mundane details.  "We move now with initiative."

A quick sip of Pepsi with real sugar extricates the grease from his pallete.  "May I also suggest that this attack may knock our enemy off balance and give us the opportunity to immediately pivot and strike the island while they are reacting to us.  Provided, of course, our circumstances after the raid permit an redeployment."  Nerd speak translation: we're not all shot to shit.

"As far as our compromise of the island, do we have a computer hacker that we trust that can penetrate Google's database?  I'd be curious to know how many other people have accessed that particular piece of ocean in the last several days.  Even if we can't track the source completely, we may be able to cross reference and account our own people to determine if the objective has been compromised."  For being a full on geek, Michael's skills at covert network penetration remain suspect.
James Choi
player, 277 posts
Special Agt, FBI HRT
Raellus
Fri 20 Jan 2017
at 23:20
  • msg #218

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


Time to change hats, James muses. He'd been getting comfortable (if not competent) with investigations again, but it's sounding more likely by the second that he'll be swapping his business casual and service piece for full tactical body armor and assault weapons very soon.

James takes a sip of his water. He hadn't done Cuban before and he was fucking digging it. "I'm good with hitting the office park. I'll get the warrant, get a copy to Salcedo, ask her to get her people to help out with a SWAT cordon. What about cleanup, though? That's something we probably don't want to leave to the locals, especially if there's ET shit involved. Keeping this in-house- which is wise, I wise- we're stretched pretty thin on ground, and if we want to move fast on the island after we're done here, we'll need some help." James didn't have an answer. Maybe one of the others did.

-
Tegyrius
GM, 644 posts
Sat 21 Jan 2017
at 15:57
  • msg #219

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Bannon shakes his head.  "We're a victim of our own success.  Amber doesn't have the support staff to cover two field teams right now.  Half my guys are off with White Cell in Syria."  He looks sideways at Vest.  "Commander, can we get anything from SOCOM?"

Vest waves a hand, buying himself a few seconds to formulate an answer while he swallows a mouthful of black beans and rice.  "Ragnr.  Um.  I don't have any strings to pull there myself.  My office is totally empty except for the boss because everyone else is headed out to China Lake.  I'd say get Rangers from Benning but the lawyers might put the brakes on that because of Posse Comitatus issues.  The right legal answer is to get the FBI to lock down the scene as a terrorism investigation and hold a perimeter until you can get more of your people here from Incirlik."

"Okay, that's a thing we can do.  Choi, if we go that route, you're gonna be busy with the admin setup for this.  You'll want to visit the judge and the Miami SAC in person so we don't put anything out electronically.  And you'll need to talk to Salcedo to pry loose enough patrol cops.  We'll want to block off the area right before you go in."  Bannon points at the office park with a sweet potato French fry.  "Have them put roadblocks north of the building at Commerce and USA Today Way - who the fuck comes up with these names? - and west at Commerce and Enterprise.  That cuts off vehicular access.  And we should probably shut down Palm Avenue and the turnpike so no motorist catches a stray bullet.  Or whatever they'll be shooting.

"Belize isn't a Posse Comitatus problem, though.  Do we want to see if there are any SOCOM or Navy assets in the Gulf that can take a look at the island?  Or, hey, Seb - what kind of forces do you guys have in French Guiana?  Anything that's deployable if we can find a way to push that button?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:26, Sat 21 Jan 2017.
Sebastien Durand
player, 369 posts
DGSE
Dave Ross
Sat 21 Jan 2017
at 16:12
  • msg #220

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Durand sits back slightly, nods in response to Bannon's question. "We have a Regiment of the Foreign Legion there. Around seven hundred men, trained in jungle warfare. I know some of them. I was stationed ay Kourou before I joined Grey Cell." The last was added for the benefit of those who had not been with the team from the outset. "If you speak with Capitaine de Frégate Joachim Maçon at DGSE in Paris he should be able to make things happen quickly."
Tegyrius
GM, 645 posts
Sat 21 Jan 2017
at 16:30
  • msg #221

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

"Hooah."  Bannon grins briefly.  "So that's another option for the island.  I'll assume they can figure out their own transportation if you call."
Tegyrius
GM, 653 posts
Sat 28 Jan 2017
at 18:05
  • msg #222

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Flamingo Park of Commerce
Miramar, Florida
11 June 2015
0011 hrs local (0511 hrs Zulu)

Florida's prolific insect life swirls overhead in the yellowish light of sodium lamps.  The scent of rotting vegetation from the nearby runoff basins lies heavy in the air.  Just over the warehouses to the south, traffic on the Ronald Reagan Turnpike is a constant muted susurrus, occasionally punctuated by a rumble of thunder from the direction of the Everglades.

The ad hoc strike team has trickled in over the last half-hour, summoned via favors, rumors, and the power of the federal search warrant in the admin pouch of James Choi's body armor.  The lone security guard unfortunate enough to be working at this hour has rolled past with double-takes at the accreting collection of police cars, fed SUVs, and nondescript, spacious, and fast personal vehicles.

With the Miami field office only three and a half miles away, the FBI contingent didn't have far to travel.  A phalanx of black Suburbans, identical to the two Grey Cell has been using, arrived two minutes before midnight and disgorged a squad of James' colleagues.  A couple are acquaintances - even in a force of 13,000 special agents, the fraternity is well-connected, all the moreso for SWAT and HRT shooters.  The more senior members are relaxed, well-fed predators in deceptive business casual; the younger agents appear to be refugees from a 5.11 Tactical catalog photo shoot.

The local cops are a less-rigid but equally well-armed mix of uniformed and plainclothes, fifteen in all.  Most are Miami PD patrol officers or detectives.  At Adriana Salcedo's recommendation, two Miramar officers provide the necessary liaison support and legitimacy - it is their jurisdiction, after all.  A lone Florida Highway Patrol trooper, tipped off by a brother-in-law from Salcedo's office, rounds out the mix with his drowsy drug dog.

At the triangle's third point, Grey Cell.

One of Salcedo's co-workers, a narcotics detective named Lopez, beckons James over.  "Hey, man.  I pulled the billing records for the place.  It ties back to one of Mad Max's shell companies.  No surprise, right?  But check this out."  He flips through a manila file folder and extracts the sheet he wants.  "There's no internet or phone access in there.  No alarm system contract, either.  Water use is a little bit higher than the previous tenants.  But power consumption is way the hell up, like double what the last guys were using.  Either they've got a grow lab, or they're running the hell out of the refrigeration in there, or... something else."  He shrugs.

"Nice," Salcedo comments.  She nudges Choi with her elbow.  "This is everyone who's coming.  You want to start the brief?"

Slight map update: https://drive.google.com/open?...7_So&usp=sharing
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:06, Sat 28 Jan 2017.
Michael Dacovetti
player, 280 posts
Tech Sgt, JSOC JCU
keys138
Sun 29 Jan 2017
at 01:41
  • msg #223

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


It's something else, Dacovetti wants to interject into the conversation between the local police and federal agents.  He elects not to because a) he doesn't grok law enforcement and b) he's too enraptured with the electronics in meticulously organized in front of him.  On a small folding table claimed from the back of some Suburban or Tac-Van, Michael has assembled a set of tools set at regular intervals, neatly square to the rounded vinyl edges.  A laptop sits open, monitoring for known Attar signals.  To the right, a small fiber optic camera and screen sit in a canvas pouch awaiting attachment to his LBV.  From there, a pile of GoPros await mounting: a split case for 3D filming to attach on his chest, an offset camera for the side of his helmet so as not to impinge on night vision goggle usage.  Five more single mounts are ready to attach to the rest of Grey Cell.  The more evidence, the stronger their position.  Maybe something useful can be teased out of the digital cells.

Or maybe you'll just film your own death.  Michael's hands come down to the table and he breathes out.  The excitement level comes down.  It's too early for all that anyway and Dacovetti knows the negative emotions for what they are: pre-battle jitters that will fade with action.  So he takes a sip of terrible gas station coffee and continues to fiddle.  Each piece of equipment fits just so.  Pistol on the armor, WASP on the leg.  Extra magazines.  The MP7 sits, silencer attached, across the back of the table and he takes an extra moment to switch the batteries on the thermal site.  Checks the holographic.  All of this will get checked again.

"I need a geek," he calls to Salcedo, interrupting her conversation.

"Excuse me?" she answers, clearly confused.

"I need a geek.  Someone reasonably competent in computer usage.  This laptop must be monitored while we are operating.  I will provide the necessary instruction."

"I'll see what I can do..."

With the request complete, Michael returns to his tasks alternating sips from his coffee and small bites from a ClifBar he dug up somewhere.  Combat is an unacceptable time to come up low on the blood sugar curve.  The armor sits heavy and familiar.  When the briefing starts, he pauses, ready to fill in where necessary.
James Choi
player, 283 posts
Special Agt, FBI HRT
Raellus
Sun 29 Jan 2017
at 02:22
  • msg #224

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


When Lopez mentions the copious power usage, James subtly arches an eyebrow at Dacovetti, but the Grey Cell tech expert is too enraptured with his gadgets to notice.

James nods in acknowledgement of Salcedo and begins the briefing, addressing the entire assembly. It's gonna be rah-rah, tacticularly cheesy, yeah, but its what most cops want to hear.

"OK, I know that this isn't anybody's first rodeo, but this one's probably going to be a bit more... intense. Our suspects are bad, bad people- fanatical, heavily armed, and extremely dangerous- not the type to surrender. I anticipate a fight. No one's to take any chances. You see a stranger with a weapon, they don't immediately comply with your commands, you put them down. For good. Let's make sure everyone here goes home safe tonight. Ok, I need our brothers and sisters in blue [MDPD] to form a cordon around the entire office park. Two layers, air tight. SWAT on the inside focusing on containment, patrol on the outside focusing on traffic control. Nothing in or out. Highway patrol, I need you ready to close off the Ronald Reagan, both directions, on my signal. Anybody asks, it's a spill or something like that, got it? No word of this op to anyone outside this room. That goes for everyone here."

Serious nodding all around. James turns to his co-agency contingent. "Alright. Sharpshooter teams here and here, covering the front and back of the target building. DeLuca, Jackson, and Arnesen, you're with my team. The rest of you will act as the reaction force, in case the entry team bites off more than we can chew. I want you stationed here, out of view, but with LOS and in position to enter the building quickly."

James looks to his Grey Cell cohort. They'd already settled on the plan; James just wants to make sure that he hasn't missed anything. "The assault team is going in stealthy. First we cut the power, then effect entry through the back door. We clear the building, working back to front. Anyone who tries to escape through the storefront or the loading dock," he gave a knowing look to the FBI reaction force, "you know what to do."

"No plan survives contact with the enemy, so be ready to improvise. Above all, good coms is crucial. Don't clutter up the channel with unnecessary chatter. The bad guys likely have high end scanners, so minimal traffic and need-to-know only. Got it?" Grey cell's tactical radios have frequency hopping capabilities and James is counting on Dacovetti to make sure the FBI SWAT team's coms are compatible.

"H-Hour is 0100, local. Set your watches. Everybody grab some glow tape [IR reactive tape]. Four inch tabs on helmets and shoulder panels."

James pans around the room. Everyone seems serious, switched on, ready. "Questions, concerns, suggestions?"

-
This message was last edited by the player at 22:57, Sun 29 Jan 2017.
Sebastien Durand
player, 375 posts
DGSE
Dave Ross
Sun 29 Jan 2017
at 11:38
  • msg #225

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Durand is leaning forward in a folding chair. A plastic cup of coffee is in his hands, still virtually full. It's not nervousness that has prevented him from drinking it; the first couple of sips had shown it to taste terrible so it's currently serving no purpose other than keeping his hands occupied as he listens to Choi's briefing. At one point his eyes flick to the three Agents that will be going in with them. A nod is offered to each of them, but it's Arnesen, the casually dressed blonde with the Scandinavian sounding name - and looks - that most catches his attention.

When Choi pauses and invites questions the Frenchman shakes his head. They'd already discussed their role in the forthcoming assault, Durand was comfortable with what had been agreed, had nothing to add or query. A glance at his watch confirmed that there was less than an hour until H Hour. That was good. The less time that they had to wait the better as far as he was concerned. The waiting was the worst part, the time when you had an opportunity to dwell on everything that might go wrong, to think about all of the different what ifs that might occur. Durand tried not to let his thoughts linger on any of the possible worst case scenarios but there were always some that managed to creep in.

When it was time to act he knew that those dark thoughts would dissipate, the training and drills would kick in. The Frenchman had faith in every man and woman in the room. Even those he had never met before. They were all professionals. No one would be here if they did not know what they were doing.
Tegyrius
GM, 657 posts
Sun 29 Jan 2017
at 13:33
  • msg #226

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

One of the Miramar cops raises a finger.  "How many suspects are we lookin' at?  And, uh," he glances around, "there's a rumor goin' around that these guys got their hands on an Air Force drone.  Do we know if they've got anything else like that?"
Michael Dacovetti
player, 281 posts
Tech Sgt, JSOC JCU
keys138
Mon 30 Jan 2017
at 22:08
  • msg #227

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

"We encountered a drone in our earlier operations against these...terrorists," Dacovetti manages to not give away the whole Op-Sec enchilada.  "My working assumption is that they have at least one more drone at their disposal although we have not yet seen evidence of its deployment.  We are also not sure of its exact capabilities.  It does, however, operate at very low altitude and carries several weapons.  I can disperse two pieces of good news: first, we have the ability to detect when they are in operation.  Second, my colleague was able to destroy the drone with a single high power rifle shot, meaning they can be destroyed.

"My recommendation is, if a drone appears, you should engage with sustained weapons fire until it has been rendered non-operational."
Sebastien Durand
player, 376 posts
DGSE
Dave Ross
Tue 31 Jan 2017
at 20:19
  • msg #228

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Durand picks up where Dacovetti leaves off. "As my colleague says, if you do encounter any of these drones -" there was a temptation to say Unidentified Flying Objects "- they are absolutely not bullet proof. I would recommend though that if you do take one down it's best not to get too close. I understand that your Air Force are using special batteries to power them and they contain some quite toxic chemicals." The Frenchman reckons that wasn't bad for making it up as he went along. "So if you encounter one after you have neutralised it, call it in. Do you agree, Mike?" The ET technology was more Dacovetti's domain after all.

He's aware of warm breath on his bare hand. The drugs dog is being friendly. The DGSE Operator reaches out, scratches it behind its ears before picking up on the cop's first question. "We do not have a definite head count, but our information is that there are at least three terrorists." The emphasis on at least is noticeable. "We have photos of two of them and a sketch of the third. If anyone hasn't seen them yet Agent Choi will make sure you get a copy." His eyes flick briefly in Lizard King's direction.

"These guys are pros. They are well trained and utterly dedicated. And they will kill themselves rather than be taken alive. Together with as many people as they can. You cannot talk them down, you cannot reason with them. If you try you are likely to end up dead. There is only one way to deal with them. I hope I am making myself clear?" He's sticking with the party line, with the agreed cover story. He's not saying it aloud, but hopefully the subtext is clear. If you have to shoot, shoot to kill.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:50, Tue 31 Jan 2017.
Karolina Kowalska
player, 234 posts
Captain, GROM
Spartan-117
Tue 31 Jan 2017
at 20:44
  • msg #229

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Lina started a final check of her weapons and gear as the briefing wound down.  She thought about adding something to Choi, Dacovetti and Durand's pep talk to the SWAT team, but they had covered all the relevant issues; as best one could without revealing that they might shortly be in direct combat with extra-terrestrial creatures.

"Time to earn our pay," she said to the others as she pulled her balaclava on.  Just be ready for anything, she thought, but left unsaid.
Hannah Omdahl
player, 189 posts
CWO2, U.S. Army
dcoda
Tue 31 Jan 2017
at 22:23
  • msg #230

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Hannah had kept very quiet during the briefing.  The others obviously had things well in hand.  She, on the other hand, could feel the thin sheen of perspiration on her gloved palms.  Double Down knew that it wasn't the ambient temperature; no, it was the jitters.  She knew what they were up against.  And she knew that the others were dancing around the subject.  Good men probably were going to die here; they likely weren't as competent as Bullfrog - and she knew from what he'd said about his first encounter with an Attar that he'd been both good and lucky.

But, Hannah also knew that the men they were briefing wouldn't never believe the truth (at least, initially).  She wouldn't.  It just wasn't believeable.  Which meant that they were as prepared as they were going to be.  No quarter.  No hesitation.  Shoot to kill the lithe army aviatrix reviewed the instructions thoughtfully to herself.  A touch absent-mindedly, Double Down checked the safety on her sidearm and then her suppressed longarm; her ranger training triggering instinctively.  If only she'd had more actual field combat experience.

Double Down nodded curtly to the other Grey Cell members, indicating her level of readiness.  Hannah took a deep breath and tried to center herself; knowing that she'd not do anyone any good by being too tense.  She gave Dancer a 'thumbs-up' and a military, "Hoo-rah."

Then she pulled up her balaclava over her nose and mouth.  She'd wait a moment to pull the googles over her eyes as she wanted to survey the premises with the naked eye first.  Double Down didn't expect to see anything too extraordinary, as she knew that whatever 'powers' she was tapping into didn't seem to work that way.  But she couldn't help herself.  And if she were completely honest with herself, it was relaxing, distracting, disquieting, and vaguely comforting all at once.  Sort of like the idea that they were going to raid an office building on a mission to hunt down and destroy some extra-terrestrials ...
This message was last edited by the player at 22:24, Tue 31 Jan 2017.
Tegyrius
GM, 662 posts
Thu 2 Feb 2017
at 02:38
  • msg #231

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

North Dade Industrial Campus
Miramar, Florida
11 June 2015
0048 hrs local (0548 hrs Zulu)

The sharpshooter teams go in first, working their way toward firing positions.  Two Miami PD officers, not SWAT cops but both lifelong hunters, nestle into the ill-kempt vegetation at the rear of the building, setting up within 70 meters of the building's rear loading dock.  The FBI team, with more formal training and vastly more expensive rifles, volunteers for the longer shot, taking a position at a pumping station about twice that distance from the building's front office side.

Running silent, the cordon tightens around the area, cops rolling up to their assigned intersections and pulling to the side, ready to stop traffic when Grey Cell gives the word.

Grey Cell and its FBI reinforcements roll to their final staging point on Commerce Parkway, 300 meters from the target.  Trees dance in the incoming thunderstorm's gust front and the first surly raindrops spatter their windshields.  A final litany of check-ins ripples across the radios.

"Command, Sierra Two -" the police sharpshooters at the northwest side - "We've got three white male subjects on the loading dock jerking off with a forklift.  None of them are matches for -- stand by.  Gun, gun!  Uh, all units, be advised, subjects are armed."

Salcedo, sitting in the lead vehicle's front seat, reaches reflexively for her radio mic, then glances between James and Karolina for input.

Map: https://drive.google.com/open?...7_So&usp=sharing

Actions?
This message was last edited by the GM at 12:30, Thu 02 Feb 2017.
Karolina Kowalska
player, 237 posts
Captain, GROM
Spartan-117
Sun 5 Feb 2017
at 19:37
  • msg #232

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

"We'll enter through the lobby then," Lina said.  Dealing with the loading dock crew meant that they would have to affect arrests, which would be loud and possibly messy.  It could delay dealing with the main event, the extra terrestrials that Gray Cell team expected to find inside.

"Bullfrog and Lizard King will take point.  Dealer's and I will take slack for them.  The Painter and Double Down will be next, followed by the main element, which will hold while our team mechanically breaches the front door.  I want you two," Lina pointed to a pair from the FBI team, "to cover our flank from this corner while we move in."

"We'll use hand signals as much as possible, until we are in the building.  Any questions?"

Karolina Kowalska
Last minute briefing, them moving to assault
Mark 18 [30/30]
Lina's focused exclusively on getting the team into position, passing hand signals and information, and maintaining situational awareness.  She would fire only for immediate self defense at this point. 


This message was last edited by the player at 19:38, Sun 05 Feb 2017.
Sebastien Durand
player, 382 posts
DGSE
Dave Ross
Sun 5 Feb 2017
at 20:25
  • msg #233

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Durand knows that everyone deals with the moments before combat differently. When he'd served with the French marines he's known a guy who had chucked his guts up every time they had been about to go into combat. But once the bullets had started flying the guy had been as solid as a rock.

Durand listens to Kowalski's briefing in silence, his breathing regular, even. He's dressed in black, overalls, armour, his helmet held in his hands for now, balaclava inside it. He's checked all of his gear, electronics, weapons, the tools that he intends to use to try and get covert entry into the building. And once he's checked everything he'd rechecked it, then checked it again, with a level of OCD that would probably make Dealer proud.

When Dancer finishes the Frenchman shakes his head briefly. "No questions." It was time to go head to head with their alien enemies again. As they had done in Libya, Australia. He pulls his balaclava on first, over his head, pulling it down so that only his eyes are visible. It's uncomfortable in the southern Florida humidity but he expects he'll scarcely notice that in a few moments. His helmet is next, secured in place by the chin strap, the various electronics attached to it, the IR strips that will serve to mark him as a good guy to the snipers watching them. Durand doesn't think they have ever been so well equipped or well prepared before when they taken on the Attars.

A quick fist bump is offered to Choi. And then the Frenchman brings down his NVG's. switching them on, letting his eyes adjust as the NOD sucks in every particle of light it can find and turns the night into different hues of green. A deep breath, and Durand is ready to go.

Bullfrog
Final preps / commencing Assault
Mk.18 CQBR rebarreled for .300 Blackout (suppressed) (30/30) (in hands)
Glock 21 (suppressed) (13/13) (Holstered)
Will attempt to use Intrusion skill / lockpick tools to effect covert entry
Firing in self defence only
NVG's On
James Choi
player, 291 posts
Special Agt, FBI HRT
Raellus
Sun 5 Feb 2017
at 20:53
  • msg #234

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


James returns the dap with a smile, then pulls the flash-proof balaclava he's wearing up over his mouth and nose and activates his advanced NOD. Fully kitted out and wearing their four-lens NVGs, the Grey Cell entry team looks totally bad-ass, more alien than the aliens, a squad of giant killer insects, repping for good ol' Planet Earth. In their last-gen monocular units, the three FBI shooters are oozing professional jealousy. Hopefully, they won't overcompensate, if and when the shit hits the fan. Scratch that. James has very little doubt that it will. And he intends to be the one doing the throwing.

He moves out on point, covering Durand as the Frenchman attempts to pick the lock. If he has to, James will fire through the glass doors, but he's hoping the main entryway won't be guarded. It's well-past business hours, and it sounds like the bad guys have something important going on behind the storefront.

James 'Lizard King' Choi
Point element, entry team
Suppressed Mk.18 CQBR (30/30 blackout) [held]
HRT Custom Colt 1911 (7/7) [drop-leg holster, right-hand draw]
Glock 21 (13/13) [SERPA chest rig, left-hand draw]
Covering Durand's intrusion attempt

-
Michael Dacovetti
player, 285 posts
Tech Sgt, JSOC JCU
keys138
Mon 6 Feb 2017
at 23:31
  • msg #235

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


The weight and heat of tactical gear in the Florida weather feels familiar to Dacovetti.  His TACP had been conducted in the geographic vicinity and most of their physical exertion required utilized the southern state's humidity and heat to its up most.  Like the others, the airman runs through his final pre-assault checklist a last conclusive time to settle his nerves.  The other final passes were clearly rehearsals for this, the penultimate examination of his gear.  Balaclava up, NVGs down, hands touching the bits and pieces of gear that he knows are there from muscle memory.  Cameras on.

He hopes that Officer Morris, the requested geek, understood the ten minute briefing on Michael's laptop.  What each peak indicated and when he should advise the strike team of any activity on the scanner.  The iPhone strapped to his arm should vibrate above a certain signal threshold, but redundancy removes systemic fail points.  If the field expedient explanation of "drones" and "encrypted burst communication systems" hold water for Morris.

There are no questions left to ask.  Execution and action.  If asked, Dacovetti wouldn't be able to say how, exactly, he thought the Earth would fight extraterrestrial invasion (in fact, he was firmly in the "peaceful contact" camp).  He would be able state that midnight tactical invasions of office parks would not have featured prominently in a list of likely scenarios.


Dacovetti
Assaulting - engaging for self defense
MP7 - suppressed (30/30) 8 mags (hands)
Glock 21 (13/13) 3 mags (holstered on chest)
WASP (27/27) 3 mags (right hip)
Covering lockpicking team
Tegyrius
GM, 667 posts
Wed 8 Feb 2017
at 02:32
  • msg #236

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Sébastien and James glide along the front of the building, pausing every ten or twelve steps to scan with all their senses.  Behind them, the rest of Grey Cell follows, backed up by Adriana Salcedo and Agents Arnesen, DeLuca, and Jackson.  The noise of traffic along Palm Avenue and the parkway dies away as, at a murmured radio command from Salcedo, the blocking police units slide into place and begin backing up traffic.

The glass along the building's front is impenetrably black thanks to a layer of security/hurricane film.  But, like the rest of the building, the tinted polymer is showing its age.  Dim light leaks through in places where it's been scuffed or peeled, glittering like a starscape through the team's NVGs.  Sébastien covers the door with his Mk.18 while James takes a knee and presses the aperture of a fiber-optic probe against one of the holes.  It's not the device's ideal use but it's better than trying to wedge one lens of a quad-goggle assembly against the glass.

James' scan shows an empty reception area, all threadbare carpet and a scattering of abandoned VGA cables and empty packing tape rolls.  More importantly, the alarm panel is visible and its screen shows the system is disarmed.  He coils the probe and tucks it away before recapturing his slung rifle and motioning Sébastien up.  The Frenchman slings his own long gun and kneels before the door.  The lock yields to his tender ministrations in moments.

The rest of the team moves in.

Slowly, softly, Sébastien swings open the door.

Grey Cell flows forward into a vacant reception area lit only by emergency exit signs and the spill of fluorescent light through the cracks in one of the two interior doors here.  The air here is cool verging on cold, around 50ºF - bracing after the moist heat of a southern Florida night.  And it's overlaid with a complex mix of aromas: something evoking the memory of dried leaves and citrus peels, underlaid with meat and harsh chemicals.  Michael and Hannah lock gazes, or at least NVG lenses, as the association coalesces simultaneously for them: Australia.  It's the scent of the fluid that fueled (or fed) the equipment recovered in that operation.

Aside from the detritus from the last occupants' departure, the reception area holds two cheap plastic chairs, a broad receptionist's workstation (scraped clean of corporate logo plaque), and the aforementioned pair of doors.  Michael and James deploy fiber optics again.  One door leads to a janitorial closet, containing a few abandoned bottles of cleaning chemicals and a decrepit-looking feather duster.  The other leads to the T-shaped hallway indicated on the floor plans.  The fluorescent tubes are lit in the hallway but there's no immediate sign of enemy presence.

As James stows his probe again and begins to tilt his NVGs down over his eyes, something less seen than felt plucks at his intuition.  He freezes, searching for the stimulus that is telling him do not go on yet.  Slowly, he scans upward.

The ceiling panels above the team are stained and buckled, as if from a leaky roof or bad plumbing.  But the hue of the stain is not the pale brown of rainwater filtered through roofing materials.  It's a vibrant purple, shading to pale lavender at the stain's outer edges, and the center where four panels meet is glistening moist.  As James watches, a single drop oozes from the ceiling frame to fall to the carpet.

Your move.
James Choi
player, 295 posts
Special Agt, FBI HRT
Raellus
Thu 9 Feb 2017
at 16:54
  • msg #237

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


The hand signal for 'halt'. Another for 'look at that'. Then 'wait'. 'Durand, cover forward down the hall'. Pantomime for 'bring me a chair from the lobby'.


James covers the ceiling, aware of proper CQB spacing and careful to stand out of the way of the dripping purple ooze. Aliens- his favorite action/sci-fi film, comes instantly to mind. The leakage doesn't appear to be corrosive, but James doesn't want Space Herpes* or anything of that sort either. Salcedo arrives shortly with the chair. It's cheap, molded plastic, K-Mart Blue Light Special-quality, but it will have to do. Carefully letting the Mk.18 down to hang from its 2-point tactical sling, James draws his silenced Glock 21 and gingerly steps up on to the chair, hoping that the weight of his full panoply doesn't collapse it. With his gloved off hand, he presses gently upwards against an adjacent, unstained tile, slowly lifting it, trying to get eyes on the source of the leakage, the sound memory of the pulsing motion detector from Aliens pounding in his ears...


James 'Lizard King' Choi
Point element, entry team
Suppressed Mk.18 CQBR (30/30 blackout) [slung]
HRT Custom Colt 1911 (7/7) [Serpa Tactical chest holster, oriented for left-hand draw]
Glock 21 (13/13) [held, ready]
Taking a peek inside the ceiling crawlspace

-
This message was last edited by the player at 00:02, Fri 10 Feb 2017.
Michael Dacovetti
player, 287 posts
Tech Sgt, JSOC JCU
keys138
Thu 9 Feb 2017
at 23:15
  • msg #238

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


The sight of fluid, unknown viscous type, emanating from the dropped ceiling tiles gives Dacovetti pause.  The night vision goggles strapped to his helmet track upward until he makes out the stain on the ceiling.  This is categorically un-good.  While Salcedo recovers poor quality office furniture, Michael takes a knee, carefully avoiding the puddle of unknown yuck in the carpet to provide security.  And like his science-fiction literate cohort, he immediately flashes back to Aliens.  When Choi moves to stand, Michael shuffles back and drives his left hand down hard onto the chair in order to steady the plastic against Lizard King's weight.  The direction of his SMG doesn't waver from down the hall.

And strapped to his arm, the Grey Cell version of a motion detector still sleeps waiting for signals from ET.


Dacovetti
Assaulting - engaging for self defense
MP7 - suppressed (30/30) 8 mags (hands)
Glock 21 (13/13) 3 mags (holstered on chest)
WASP (27/27) 3 mags (right hip)
Bracing Choi
Karolina Kowalska
player, 238 posts
Captain, GROM
Spartan-117
Fri 10 Feb 2017
at 11:19
  • msg #239

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

As the James and Micheal played gopher into the drop ceiling, Karolina moved to the center of the lobby.  She flipped her NVGs up and away and then scanned the ceiling in a 360 degree pattern with the mini-thermal sight on her Mk.18 CQBR, mentally noting and memorising any hot and cold spots.  Any significant thermal movement will draw immediate suppressive and suppressed fire.

Karolina Kowalska
Entering lobby, moving to the center of the room
Suppressed Mark 18 [30/30]
2 x 5 round bursts at any thermal images that are moving in a non-fluid like pattern (not firing on what Lina interprets to be piped fluids)
Sebastien Durand
player, 387 posts
DGSE
Dave Ross
Fri 10 Feb 2017
at 12:17
  • msg #240

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

A nod from Durand signifies that he has understood the various hand signals, the Frenchman moving forward a few steps before shifting to a low crouched stance, his rifle raised, trained on the doors that lead into the hallway, ready to engage anyone – or anything – that may come through them whilst Choi inspects what’s above their heads. Despite himself the Frenchman can’t avoid the odd glance upwards as Salcedo brings the chair forward. They’ve probably all seen the same movie – like Predator, it doesn’t count as a sci fi move in Durand’s book, it’s more horror / action. So they are all probably thinking the same thought. What is up there?

It also reminds him that if he does detect any movement on the other side of the doors he needs to check his fire until the movement can be confirmed as hostile. He doesn’t want to shoot Newt.

Bullfrog
On point
Moving forward to cover the doors/ sporadic glances up / imagination working overtime
Mk.18 CQBR rebarreled for .300 Blackout (suppressed) (30/30) (in hands)
Glock 21 (suppressed) (13/13) (Holstered)
Firing in self defence only
NVG's On
Tegyrius
GM, 672 posts
Sat 11 Feb 2017
at 23:49
  • msg #241

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

A faint dusting of drop ceiling tile sifts down as James lifts the panel a tentative half-inch.  A dim red glow leaks from around the opening.  In Karolina's thermal imager, the ceiling tiles are the warmest part of the room, and the rush of hot, humid air is as visible to her as it is tangible to James.

According to Michael's purloined floor plans, there should be 14 feet of dead space between the drop ceiling and the building's actual ceiling, occupied only by air conditioning ducts, network cables, and structural members.

What James sees is not according to plan.  The sense of Aliens familiarity redoubles as he takes in a mass of sweeping complex organic curves.  The same iridescent purple-black material from the alien artifacts captured in Australia predominates, but here and there are other elements: fist-sized crystalline nodules from which emanate head and red light, bundles of wholly terrestrial fiber optic cables, a ten-foot branching coral-like fan dangling from one of the roof's crossbeams and slowly rotating.

The source of the leak is an ovoid of the chitin, about the size of a minivan, suspended in the rough center of the space.  It is studded here and there with more crystalline formations, most about basketball-sized.  Gaping pits in its side reveal where four have already been removed.  Rivulets of the purple fluid bleed from them, trickling together as they run down a severed cable bundle and drip onto the drop ceiling.

Standing astride a part of the structure, a humanoid figure struggles with a crowbar to pry loose another of the crystals.  James freezes in place but he fingernails-on-chalkboard rasp of the tool against the crystal seems to mask any sound he may have generated.  The upward angle and the red light delay recognition for a moment - then the face resolves.  It's one James last saw in repose on a makeshift examining table in Victoria Barracks: the alien identity he dubbed "Jon Cryer."

Incongruously, the creature is wearing black dress slacks and a pale shirt - color indeterminate in this light - with the sleeves rolled up.  It's barefoot, and its feet curl around the chitin in a way no human's would bend.  Its belt bears a holstered handgun, a long-bladed knife, and what appears to be an old-school Blackberry.

Through the door, Sébastien hears a faint whump and a low-frequency rumble, followed by metallic scrapes and clattering.  It sounds like the Russians have fired up the forklift and are moving something - clumsily.

Michael's feed from the RETICLE sensor net remains calm.

Your turn.
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:54, Sat 11 Feb 2017.
James Choi
player, 298 posts
Special Agt, FBI HRT
Raellus
Sun 12 Feb 2017
at 00:25
  • msg #242

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


It isn't the first time the full weight of an op rests on James Choi's well-defined shoulders, but it sure feels like it. The problem at hand is both simple and mind-numbingly complex at once- binary options with an almost infinite number of possible permutations.

A miss will almost certainly raise the alarm. On the other hand, bypassing the creature pretty much guarantees that there will be at least one armed, extra-terrestrial tango behind the entry team when shit goes pear-shaped- and it's no longer a matter of if. It never really was.

The Lizard King lines up the Glock 21's luminescent day/night sights on John Cryer, center mass, and confidently squeezes the trigger, one, twice, thrice.


James 'Lizard King' Choi
Point element, entry team
Suppressed Mk.18 CQBR (30/30 blackout) [slung]
HRT Custom Colt 1911 (7/7) [Serpa Tactical chest holster, oriented for left-hand draw]
Glock 21 (13/13) [held, ready]
Firing 3 shots at John Cryer, the first is aimed, the second and third are quick

-
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 00:43, Sun 12 Feb 2017.
Hannah Omdahl
player, 193 posts
CWO2, U.S. Army
dcoda
Sun 12 Feb 2017
at 07:53
  • msg #243

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Hannah had been as quiet as she could be in the middle ranks; ground ops weren't her forte - so, she'd let the others take the lead.  Besides, something was fuzzing with her senses (all of them, especially her new found sixth sense) - and while she has a sort of vague, pensive, niggling feeling scratching at the base of her skull, the thin army aviatrix can't pinpoint it to anything in the building in particular.  The whole place glowed vaguely purple to her.

And the whole place smelled funny to her; even though it wasn't her nose that is doing the detecting.  She simply didn't have the vocabulary to properly describe what was tripping off all the alarms in the various parts of her brain at this point.

She conspicuously avoided the purple ooze, but can feel the sweat on her palms.  The 'smell' is strong near there, but really it is all pervasive.  And it is more distracting to her than anything else.  Hannah is forced to spend more time trying to concentrate on the tasks at hand than gaining any additional information that her extra senses might impart.

I've got a bad feeling about this... the auburn-haired pilot thought sullenly to herself, keeping radio silence as she halted her position in line with the others in the group.  Her position didn't afford her the view that Lizard King was privy to.  But she isn't completely surprised when he opened fire.  Still, being three ranks back, Double Down simply hunkered down and got ready to respond to anything coming at them from behind.  Or the sides.  Or from above.

Hannah tried to keep calm as she continued to scan behind the group.  First making sure that the Salcedo and the FBI backup was still with them (and unharmed) and then that anyone else wasn't sneaking up behind them.  With her NVG thermals still going, she could only trust them to help her do her job.

Hannah 'Double Down' Omdahl
Kneeling, defensive positioning, checking behind - ready to fire on anything thermally suspicious.
MP7 - suppressed (30/30)
Sebastien Durand
player, 391 posts
DGSE
Dave Ross
Sun 12 Feb 2017
at 21:36
  • msg #244

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Durand's head turns at the faint sound of suppressed gunfire behind him, his eyes immediately snapping upwards, a sudden image popping in to his mind, almost Dante-esque, a vision of Choi popping up the ceiling tile to be confronted by a horde of creatures scuttling towards him, just like in the movie.

The Frenchman is momentarily torn between what might lie on the other side of the doors and what must be lurking above their heads. One is a possibility. There might be something behind the doors. The other is a definite. Choi would not have fired unless he had seen something. Or at least thought he had seen something. It is hypothetical versus actual. And in Durand's mind that can only go one way.

The DGSE Operator spins his entire body round, his back to the doors, stepping to one side so that he is not directly in front of them, hoping that one of his colleagues will have the presence to cover them as he brings up his Mk18, points it towards the ceiling, angled slightly so that the barrel is trained on a spot several metres in front of Choi, far enough away that he judges there is no risk of any rounds hitting the FBI Agent.

He knows that he is firing blind, but he can't get that vision out of his head. If anything pulls him up he wonders if one of his team will shoot him. They'd had the conversation about the movies in Australia. The non Brit European was always one of the first to go.

Durand takes a deep breath, checks again that Choi is out of his line of fire and squeezes the trigger, sending a short burst into the ceiling tiles above his head.

Durand
Moving to stand clear of the doors / assessing Choi's position to avoid blue on blue / firing blind, 1 x 5 rnd burst into the ceiling tiles.
Mk.18 CQBR rebarreled for .300 Blackout (suppressed) (30/30) (in hands)
Glock 21 (suppressed) (13/13) (Holstered)
NVG's On
Michael Dacovetti
player, 289 posts
Tech Sgt, JSOC JCU
keys138
Sun 12 Feb 2017
at 21:55
  • msg #245

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

"Oh, I'm sorry. Did you think you joined the fucking boy scouts?"  The voice, a decade and a half old, ricochets through Dacovetti's mind, an echo of an instructor in tech school tearing into one of Michael's classmates who had the audacity to point out during a 3am night ruckmarch after 74 hours without sleep that he was a bit fatigued.  The memory comes when Choi opens fire not because Michael is tired.  It returns because the airman has found himself in a less than ideal situation, pinned in place without cover and ensuring that The Lizard King doesn't go toppling from his perch atop the world's most structurally inadequate office furniture.

"Pick it up and drive on, hooah?" The voice echoes again.  No practical application in wishing for something better.  Michael leans into Choi's legs to give him a more stable platform to operate from when combating the effects of recoil.  Another series of muffled cracks announces Seb's entry into the now weapons hot engagement.  It remains to be seen whether or not this particular moment will evolve into an ambush, a running gun battle, or calm itself once a threat has been neutralized.  He knows what he's hoping for.

Michael's head slips around Choi's leg to take in Seb's new stance and covering position.  The geometry of the battle plan has shifted and new angles have to be drawn.  Right now they are weak to the front until they can get some one up.  The MP7 isn't heavy, unlike the larger Mk.18's the others are using.  The recoil isn't terrible for the cyclic rate of the weapon.  Michael is able to get his SMG up with his right hand and hold it towards the door.  The tragedy of the geometry, however, is that the only cover Michael has from the front is Choi's legs.  His thumb switches the selector to full auto.  Should someone come through the door, they will be met with a blistering amount of bullets.  Quantity over quality.

Dacovetti
Reinforcing office furniture
Covering front.
MP7 Full Auto (30/30)
Karolina Kowalska
player, 240 posts
Captain, GROM
Spartan-117
Mon 13 Feb 2017
at 13:17
  • msg #246

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

When Karolina heard Lizard King's suppressed pistol fire from in the drop ceiling she immediately began a series of hand signals and hushed commands, intended to bring the FBI Agents and Adriana Salcedo into better positioning in the lobby.

"Salcedo, here with Dealer.  Jackson, DeLuca, over here, get ready to boost me.  Arnesen, cover our six with Double Down."  Lina directed the agents into positions that were unlikely to result in a cross-fire hazard for the rest of the team.  Once Jackson and DeLuca were in place, Lina gave a few more instructions as she moved to step onto the pair.

"Come closer together; hands here.  Standard cheerleader lift.  I'm stepping in," Kowalska said as hopped onto their hands from behind.  Lina's hands grasped their shoulders to steady herself momentarily.  "Ok, lift," the former gymnast said, as she moved her hand away from their shoulder and used one to lift and move the ceiling tile above her.  Her other hand grasped the CQBR.  Lina's long years of acrobatics training allowed her to maintain balance as she brought the suppressed long gun first into the space above her, then down to her shoulder.  Using two agents of the United State's premier law enforcement agency as a support base, GROM Kapitan Kowlaska began scanning for targets.

Karolina Kowalska
Mid-room area
Suppressed Mark 18 [30/30]
Organising NPCs, getting a lift into the ceiling.  2x 5-round bursts at visible alien hostiles.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:21, Mon 13 Feb 2017.
Tegyrius
GM, 676 posts
Tue 14 Feb 2017
at 00:38
  • msg #247

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

The suppressed Glock spits out three shots (Choi -3 rounds), the already-muffled reports sounding strangely flat as the alien architecture seems to swallow the remaining muzzle blast.  The first round strikes just above Jon Cryer's left ankle, seemingly doing little damage but breaking the creature's foothold on the beam.  It begins to topple as the second bullet smacks into its left forearm.  The third hit tears away the left half of its jaw in a spray of red-orange fluid.

Even surprised and critically injured, the alien is fast.  Its right hand snaps out in a blinding reflexive grab for one of the coral-like structure's branching filaments, discarding the crowbar in a seeming casual afterthought.  Its fingertips just brush the fronds - but it's not enough.

Evidence from previous contacts suggests Sébastien is almost as fast as an Attar.  He's certainly faster than a falling one.  The DGSE agent whirls, raises his rifle, and rips a burst into the creature as it crashes through the drop ceiling (Durand -5 rounds).  One 220-grain hollowpoint catches it under the right ear and tears its head apart in midair.  The creature thumps to the floor, followed immediately by the discarded crowbar.  The Grey Cell veterans collectively hold their breaths for a split-second, literally and figuratively, but there's no eruption of green mist this time.

James lets his target fall away from his sights, quickly scanning the area above him for additional threats.  The change in illumination from above lets him twist toward the source as a small circular opening snaps open in the large ovoid's side.  An inner red glow silhouettes another humanoid figure - and the rifle in its hands.  The FBI agent drops back into the foyer as a series of definitely unsuppressed shots tears through the space his torso occupied.  Reflex sends another flurry of fire back at his attacker (Choi -3 rounds [total 6]).

The incoming fire snaps past Michael's head, coming from above and behind him.  The airman pivots around James as the federal agent tumbles back into the room.  With his other arm still supporting his teammate, his shooting hand comes up and sends a burst back toward the beachball-sized muzzle flashes (Dacovetti -10 rounds).  Neither James or Michael can tell if they hit anything but the incoming fire stops.

From her position at the door, Hannah doesn't have a direct line of sight to the shooter.  She flattens against the wall to make room for Karolina's improvisation and focuses on her sector, scanning with eyes, technology, and whatever other intuition has been building within her since Australia.  The night gives up no secrets yet.

Karolina goes up Agents Jackson and DeLuca like an enraged spider monkey breacher, bursting through the drop ceiling.  The FBI assaulters' boost gives her enough momentum to reach the lowest of the alien structures.  As she settles her balance, a silhouetted shooter pops back up in the porthole above.  She rakes it with fire (Kowalska -10 rounds) and it drops out of sight again.

"We're fuckin' jammed up here," Salcedo grunts as she and Caradoc push past James and Michael.  The Welshman doesn't bother adding any banter as he kicks the interior door.  The flimsy wood shatters around the latch and the door flies open, revealing an untenanted hallway.  The pair pushes foward to the T-intersection a few meters ahead, covering both directions with shotgun and HK417.
Karolina Kowalska
player, 242 posts
Captain, GROM
Spartan-117
Wed 15 Feb 2017
at 18:00
  • msg #248

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Karolina was balancing in the ceiling on something that, for all she knew, might be a tail of a massive creature or an appendage of some alien hive mind.  Or it could be alien plumbing.  But since it hadn't moved yet, she decided to stay here for now, especially if Grey Cell needed to continue to fire upward into the drop ceiling.

Seeing that whatever she had raked with fire had pulled back for now, Lina peeled off a flash bang and pulled the pin.  She sent it sailing across the room above the room.

"STUN OUT," Karolina said to the open ceiling tile below her.

With the grenade away, she used this time to clear the two corners to her six, turning and taking a knee to check both while she waited for the cut out of her headset to deaden the sound and the backlit flashbulb effect to confirm that the flash-bang had kicked off.  Quickly, Lina pivoted back to her original orientation, and watched for movement, opening up with the Mark 18 CQBR at the first enemy target that presented itself.

Karolina Kowalska
In the ceiling
Mk. 18 CQBR [20/30], Frags x2, Flash-Bangs x2
Action #1 - Flashbang toward the alien shooter, then combat pirouette 180 degrees
Action #2 - Engaging any enemies or egg sack like items behind her w/2 x 5-round bursts; or following the flash-bang, turning another 180 to engage targets that might have been flushed out by the grenade.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:12, Fri 17 Feb 2017.
Sebastien Durand
player, 392 posts
DGSE
Dave Ross
Wed 15 Feb 2017
at 21:06
  • msg #249

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Durand’s first instinct is make sure that the alien that has just crashed through the ceiling is dead. A cursory glance is enough to see that its head is no longer in one piece. His second thought is to hold his breath in anticipation of a repeat of the very first time that he had encountered an Attar, in a back street in Tripoli.

When the expected noxious cloud fails to appear Durand exhales, his head already moving as he looks around, trying to take stock of the situation. His ears are ringing from the sudden discharge of the unsuppressed shots, that may well have alerted the building’s other occupants that something was going down. Painter and Salcedo have already passed him, should hopefully deal with any intrusions from that direction. No one seems to be hurt. The threat appears to be directly above his head.

His back to the doors that the Welshman and the cop have gone through, Durand raises his rifle towards the ceiling. Firing blind is way too dangerous now that Karolina is up there so the Frenchman is looking for any obvious targets, any sign of anything coming down from the ceiling. Anything that he sees moving that he can confirm is not one of his team is going to get a five round burst aimed in its direction.

Bullfrog
Back to door that Crewe and Salcedo just went through / looking up / scanning for targets
Firing 1 x 5 rnd burst at any non Grey Cell / LEO personnel spotted
Mk.18 CQBR rebarreled for .300 Blackout (suppressed) (25/30) (in hands)
Glock 21 (suppressed) (13/13) (Holstered)
NVG's On
Michael Dacovetti
player, 291 posts
Tech Sgt, JSOC JCU
keys138
Thu 16 Feb 2017
at 01:31
  • msg #250

Re: [IC] Chapter Three



The complexity of the situation has evolved considerably.  Michael is relieved that the dead alien hasn't elected to initiate the "poison everyone in the room" option with its death, even if that opens up a few more questions that Grey Cell will be sorting through later.  For the moment, his attention is split between the movement of his allies around him and the fact that there is a series of alien pods in the ceiling, at least one of which containing a hostile xenomorph (Oh, look.  We're on a bug hunt.)

"My best recommendation is to start putting large diameter holes in alien ovoids.  Perhaps we can hit some resting.  Or flush them into our sights."  Whether the MP7 is a viable option for that line of attack is unknown.  Armor piercing bullets + alien technology yields incomplete information.

The airman releases Choi and moves to the side, vacating his last known position and continues to cover the ceiling.  A quick flip of the index finger on this left hand energizes the IR laser emitter sitting below the barrel on his SMG.  A high decibel bang is about to intrude on the building's acoustics and the outcome will probably be...interesting.

Dacovetti
Moving from position
Covering ceiling, activating IR laser
MP7 - suppressed (20/30)
James Choi
player, 302 posts
Special Agt, FBI HRT
Raellus
Fri 17 Feb 2017
at 00:47
  • msg #251

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


Literally, it isn't a can of worms that James has just opened in the poorly-named overhead crawl-space, but the expression certainly seems tailor made for the situation currently unfolding.

Holstering the suppressed Glock, the chagrined HRT shooter transitions back to the Mk.18 and moves down the hall, following hard on Crewe and Salcedo's heels. A part of James didn't like leaving a mess behind, especially one that he'd essentially created, but with With Kowalska physically occupying the ample gap between ceiling and roof, there's not much more James can do about the overhead threat that won't risk causing friendly-fire casualties. Besides, the very capable of DGSE man is backing the GROM woman up- James would be one cook too many.

He moves swiftly, purposefully, banishing the painfully fresh memory of his poor pistol marksmanship. The only shot you're guaranteed to miss is the one you don't take. Now that the cat is out of the bag- fuck not mixing metaphors- James reckons that's its time to open another can- a can of whoop-ass.

Lizard King doesn't like Salcedo on point. She's not Grey Cell, not even SWAT, and she's at the tip of the spear, headed in the general direction of a group of confirmed armed and assuredly hostile quislings. For a split second, he considers calling out to the detective to swap places, but he doesn't want to distract her, not here, not now. He stays in the 3 slot, keeping pace, covering the angles that Crewe and Salcedo are not (but double-checking hers as well). If he can overtake the good detective and take the slack slot without causing confusion, he'll do so.


James 'Lizard King' Choi
Entry team, 3 slot (trying to move into the 2)
Suppressed Mk.18 CQBR (30/30 blackout) [held]
HRT Custom Colt 1911 (7/7) [Serpa Tactical chest holster, oriented for left-hand draw]
Glock 21 (7/13) [drop leg holster, oriented for right-hand draw]
Double-tap any baddy that comes into sight (but very cognizant of his allies' positioning)

-
This message was last edited by the player at 18:27, Sat 18 Feb 2017.
Hannah Omdahl
player, 196 posts
CWO2, U.S. Army
dcoda
Wed 22 Feb 2017
at 22:44
  • msg #252

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Hannah lined up shoulder-to-shoulder with Arnesen at the back of the pack, making sure with a set of quick hand gestures that her partner knew which quadrant was his when they were stationary.  She kept her eyes and ears (and mind for that matter) open trying not to get distracted from anything that might be drawing fire at the front or above as of yet.  She waited for the Dancer's expected boom-boom; heard the semi-controlled bursts of Dealer, Bullfrog, and the Lizard King as the group began their area sweep; and only gave a furtive glance to the body that came crashing down.  The auburn-haired army pilot knew what her current job was: keep the rest of the group from being surprised or surrounded; she trusted the others to let her know if the area behind her was being compromised - just as they were trusting her to keep her own quadrant safe and secure.

When they started moving, Double Down gestured curtly to Arnesen with an open hand and began to retreat in the standard bounding overwatch.  She tapped the support FBI agent as she passed, informing him of her position and his turn to move.  She gave a secondary motion to her partner to watch out for obstacle that was a new corpse on the floor.  Hannah montioned for Arnesen to givbe the thing a wide berth, especially since she still expected the thing to either get up or have its head dissolve and let off a bevy of noxious fumes.

Even in (or especially because of) the confined space that they found themselves, vigilance seemed key.  Hannah could feel the sheen of perspiration on her palms and the tension in her shoulders as she continued her orderly scan of the assigned area; there were too many corners and too many places that the enemy might spring out during movement - which required someone to always be on guard - especially now that the floating ceiling was also a potential ambush hazard as well.  The tactic may have smacked of paranoia and slowed their progress slightly, but she figured it would keep them alive.  And Double Down knew enough about the tactic from her Green Platoon training to keep it moving efficiently - and at least as quickly as the front of the group was progressing.

Hannah 'Double Down' Omdahl
Bounding Overwatch with Arnesen - ready to fire on anything thermally suspicious tailing the group.
MP7 - suppressed (30/30)
Tegyrius
GM, 678 posts
Fri 24 Feb 2017
at 01:22
  • msg #253

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Karolina's flash-bang skitters off the surface of the ovoid pod, glances from a ceiling beam, and detonates in the dead space's far corner.  Sébastien and Michael turn their heads (and NVGs) away as Karolina's distraction device detonates.  The alien architectural additions seem to soak up the sound as they did the gunfire of a moment before, but light from the pyrotechnic flashes through every crack and opening in the ceiling.  No target presents itself to any of the shooters covering the area.

Caradoc puts warning fingertips on Salcedo's shoulder as James advances to the T-intersection, then flashes the FBI agent a hand signal: clear left.  By the floor plans, that direction leads to the restrooms, break room, and conference room.  James checks the right side, which Salcedo is covering; it's also clear for the moment.  In that direction lie four small offices, then a left-hand turn which leads to the warehouse area.  Salcedo averts her shotgun's muzzle as James slides past her.

"Keep going.  We'll cover her," Agent Jackson says as he slings his M4 and clambers atop the receptionist's desk.  Suiting action to words, he hoists himself through the ceiling to join Karolina.  DeLuca follows suit, moving a bit more reluctantly with his greater bulk.

As Hannah and Arnesen begin moving, bringing up the rear, there's a crackle of gunfire from the direction of the loading dock.  Arnesen's head jerks around and he freezes.  "What the fuck..." he murmurs.  Following his gaze, Hannah can see the now-familiar alien face, or at least what's left of it, beneath the ragged human mask of the thing James and Sébastien killed a moment ago.  "What the fuck," he repeats in a soft, lost tone, taking a tentative step toward the corpse and going to one knee.  He stretches out a hand toward it.

"Empire, Foxtrot Lead," reports SSA Murchinson from the rear of the building.  "You've got suspects coming your way.  They didn't stop when ordered, and drew weapons.  One down, twskrrrrzzzt"  The transmission dissolves in static as a sheet of lightning strobes through even the heavy tint of the front windows.

Hannah, turning toward Arnesen to hasten him along, catches a flicker of motion from the corner of her eye.  There's an instant's icepick-stab behind her eyes, then a mental snap like a wineglass' stem breaking.  The MP-7 in her hands growls on instinct (Omdahl -10 rounds).  The glass in the window beside the doors sprays outward.  The doors, which were swinging open in the grasp of nothing important, nothing at all, slam shut.  Something large and writhing rises out of sight on a corona of St. Elmo's fire.  Two severed metallic tentacles thump to the carpet, still twitching slightly.

"Empire, Sierra One, check your six!" belatedly calls the FBI sharpshooter team on the building's southeast side.  "Drone, drone!  Engaging!"  A single rifle shot carries from across the drainage basin.  "No joy, it's landing on the roof.  Watch your overheads!"

The iPhone in the exercise case on Michael's bicep burps once, then rattles with a sustained vibration.  A moment later, the radios crackle again, this time with Officer Morris' report: "Empire, this is Romeo.  I've got a big spike, uh, column B.  It's coming down from almost directly overhead, eight hundred feet."

Morris isn't aware that Michael's field-expedient explanation tweaked the sensor scale by a factor of 100.  Column B is the readout for the signature of an alien spacecraft drive.  And it's coming in from 80,000 feet.
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:41, Fri 24 Feb 2017.
James Choi
player, 303 posts
Special Agt, FBI HRT
Raellus
Fri 24 Feb 2017
at 17:39
  • msg #254

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


It goes against HRT doctrine and SOPs, but there's no time to clear the rooms to the left, not when an identified threat is approaching from the opposite direction. It's time to take a gamble. To mitigate the risk and keep detective Salcedo as far out of harm's way as possible, James signals her to cover the left branch of the hallway from the base of the T (right side).

He places her with her back to the wall so that she can do so from defilade (vis-à-vis the known threat), signals Crewe to cover right from the near side, and indicates that he'll cross the hall and cover right from the far side (also favoring his dominant right hand). With Crewe's weapon pointed down the hall, James crosses the gap behind him and takes a knee, facing right, and using the corner as cover.

"On my signal," James says coolly. He wants to get as many of the bad guys into the hall as possible before opening fire. Hopefully, they'll be in a hurry and won't be worried about trouble ahead. Of course, if he and Crewe are spotted first, it's go time regardless. Crewe knows what to do. James thumbs the selector switch on his Mk.18 to full-auto and looks through the reflex sight at the far end of the hallway, half-expecting Darth Vader to step into the picture.


James 'Lizard King' Choi
Entry team, point element
Suppressed Mk.18 CQBR (30/30 blackout) [held]
HRT Custom Colt 1911 (7/7) [Serpa Tactical chest holster, oriented for left-hand draw]
Glock 21 (7/13) [drop leg holster, oriented for right-hand draw]
Short, aimed bursts (Opp fire) once conditions are met

-
This message was last edited by the player at 21:10, Sun 26 Feb 2017.
Hannah Omdahl
player, 197 posts
CWO2, U.S. Army
dcoda
Sat 25 Feb 2017
at 08:48
  • msg #255

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Having unloaded a third of her clip into the dark, Double Down growled into her comm, "All Empire, this is Empire Four.  We have rear contact; one confirmed bogey - possibly injured."  It seemed like a bit of an understatement to her, but couldn't really be phrased any other way, "At least, one previously unknown enhancement."  What else was she going to call the wriggling appendages?

"Dealer." the thin army aviatrix called quietly over her shoulder, "You may want to take a look at these..."  The Amber Cell guys were gonna have a field day.  Assuming that they didn't all die, of course.

She rolled her shoulders slightly, keeping her MP7 couched forward in a ready position.  Double Down didn't want to rely on whatever sixth sense was going off, but she also couldn't shake the gnawing at the base of her skull either.  Making sure that Arnesen was alert and covering her, Hannah began to inch forward to see if whatever the tentacles had been attached to is still hanging around.  It wouldn't do to be ambushed (again) by a wounded opponent.  The injured ones were often the most dangerous...

Hannah 'Double Down' Omdahl
Calling for backup and inching forward to make sure there aren't others waiting.
(or maybe she is just going to become chrysalid bait... *sigh*)
MP7 - suppressed (30/40)
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:20, Wed 01 Mar 2017.
Sebastien Durand
player, 394 posts
DGSE
Dave Ross
Sat 25 Feb 2017
at 11:30
  • msg #256

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

It feels to Durand as though threats are coming in all directions. Choi and Crewe are moving forward with the Detective, Salcedo. Dancer's up in the ceiling engaging whatever is up there. Double Down is engaging something behind them. And now a fucking flying saucer is descending on them. A thought flashes through the Frenchman's mind, his point of reference switching from Aliens to another movie he's seen. The one where the flying saucers blow up the White House. And lots of other places. Merde.

"I'll back up Hannah." He says to Dealer, already moving towards Double Down. Things felt as though they were escalating. Rapidly. "I think we pissed them off." The latter is said with a wry grin that is hidden under his balaclava.

The DGSE Operator slots into position beside Arnesen, calls out to the American aviator. "We've got your back Double Down." His rifle is raised, holding his fire for now as Double Down moves forward cautiously, ready to unleash multiple bursts at any threats that show themselves so long as he has a clear shot and there is no risk of hitting Omdahl, speaking to the FBI agent next to him as he watches. "Arnesen, if those tentacles look as though they are about to do anything put some rounds into them." Yep, welcome to a whole world of weird Agent Arnesen.

Bullfrog
Back still to door that Crewe and Salcedo went through / moving to back up DD and Arnesen
Firing 2 x 5 rnd burst at any non Grey Cell / LEO personnel spotted
Mk.18 CQBR rebarreled for .300 Blackout (suppressed) (25/30) (in hands)
Glock 21 (suppressed) (13/13) (Holstered)
NVG's On
Michael Dacovetti
player, 294 posts
Tech Sgt, JSOC JCU
keys138
Sun 26 Feb 2017
at 21:02
  • msg #257

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

This situation has evolved in a non-optimal direction.  Michael's mental models should have taken into consideration that the alien opposition would deploy spacecraft again.  Instead, he recognizes belatedly, that he is still operating in a threat model that believes the opposition will do what it can to limit its exposure to the Earth forces.  Despite several encounters that have manifestly proven this not to be the case.  That oversight, while understandable from a psychological point of view, has put the airman far behind the curve in the OODA loop.

Instead of advancing forward to continue the attack, Dacovetti collapses back into the center of the assaulting formation, repositioning to avoid crossing fire lines from friendlies and hopefully not have to bring his MP7 to bear.  "Weapon down," he advises his companions.  "Running comms."

"Romeo, Empire.  I need you to go to the back of the suburban, open the hatch move the tarp.  Let me know when you see the radios."  While he waits for the drafted computer nerd to comply with his orders, Michael supports his submachine gun with his left hand and takes the offensively necessary trigger finger off the weapon and initiates a much more dangerous chain of events to deploy far more effective weapons systems. He punches the button on his iPhone.  It beeps twice in recognition of the gesture.

"How can I help you?" Siri's voice answers.

"Hi Siri," he answers.  "Call Foundation on speaker, secure line."

"Okay, I will call Foundation on speaker, secure line."

He can hear the phone ringing on his arm when the radio in his ear comes back.  "Empire, Romeo.  Okay.  This looks complicated."

Of course it is complicated.  It's a combat radio set up, two radios operating in parallel to converting one frequency to another then bounce the signal ultimately allowing me to control aircraft via a tactical radio set.  And interface with Foundation once they come up to speed.

"It's not Romeo.  There is a knob in the upper right hand corner of both radios.  Turn the top one to CT.  Turn the knob on the bottom one to 'two.'  It's in a box.  Then back away and don't touch anything."  He ignores the reply, assuming that his orders are as clear as can be for now.

"Empire Three, Foundation," comes across his shoulder.

"Foundation, Empire Three in direct contact with hostiles.  I have a Whiskey Golf emission directly overhead, at 80K.  Assuming Tango Sierra inbound to this location.  Request immediate air support.  We are operating on tac channel three.  And put the Aussie on the line."

This is so fucked, the old New York accent adds silently.

Michael Dacovetti
Comms
Trying to stay alive and out of the way
MP7 (30/40) 8 mags remaining
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:20, Wed 01 Mar 2017.
Karolina Kowalska
player, 245 posts
Captain, GROM
Spartan-117
Mon 27 Feb 2017
at 09:53
  • msg #258

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Ok, zrobimy to na własnej skórze, Karolina thought to herself as she paused momentarily for a target that never presented itself.  Kowalska looked for a path forward that would allow her an angle on the alien that may or may not still be hiding in the ovoid pod.

”DeLuca, stay there on overwatch.  Jackson, follow me,” the NATO officer said.  She shifted laterally and forward, looking good firing locations.  As Jackson trailed behind her, Lina’s scanned the areas near to her and the FBI Agent for cover options.  ”Jackson, behind that structure,” Karolina directed, hoping that she’d spotted a good location for the second G-man.  ”Fire at the first enemy that moves in your line of sight,” Lina added.

Now it was time for her to press the attack.  ”Moving!” she shouted.  Dancer maneuvered quickly to an alien structure she hoped might provide her some protection, running and leaping atop the extraterrestrial plumbing infrastructure as she did so.

Karolina Kowalska (NVGs on)
Moving (not Dash) to cover, in an effort to find better angles on the Ovid’s potential occupant
Mk. 18 CQBR [20/30]
Action #1 - Spotting cover locations and directing XCOM operatives FBI augmentees to move to cover/half cover, followed by overwatch
Action #2 - Moving to cover/half cover, opening fire on any available enemy targets w/2x 5-round bursts - assuming I survive their reaction shots ;)
This message was last edited by the player at 09:58, Mon 27 Feb 2017.
Tegyrius
GM, 681 posts
Wed 1 Mar 2017
at 01:22
  • msg #259

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

The terrain is limited, but James preps the best hasty ambush he can within available constraints.  Salcedo shoulders her Beretta, orienting on the restrooms, break room, and conference room - four doors, but close enough together that she can swing the 12-gauge onto any of them in an instant.  Caradoc flattens out on the carpet, poking his own HK417 past Salcedo's feet to cover the most likely line of approach.  James moves into the doorway of the nearest office - completely empty, nowhere for a counter-ambush to appear from - and likewise orients to the right.

Sébastien slides past Arnesen, who's going ashen and slack-jawed.  He can't stop glancing between the tentacles and the dead Attar.  The agent seems to have burned out his clutch trying to shift his paradigm too quickly.  The DGSE operator gives the tentacles his own quick inspection: they appear identical to those which were attached to the alien device/creature he downed over Darnell Hawkins' neighborhood.

Nothing but the driving rain moves beyond the shattered glass door as Sébastien and Hannah cover the team's rear.  Thick, cool panes of glass are sliding behind Hannah's eyes, though, with a sense of imminent presence dropping from overhead.  There are flickers of purple at the corners of her vision.

"Stand by."  There's a static-laced silence on Michael's radio until: "Empire, we are on the line with the 125th Fighter Wing out of Homestead and are requesting they launch their alert-five aircraft now.  Be advised, we will not, repeat, not be able to hand off control to you at this time.  Stand by for... the Aussie."

A pop-hiss-click of comms switching, then: "Mike, I'm getting your net now come on you fucker boot alfuckingready okay, mate, looks like one source, descending at just under the Mach limit.  And Jesus Christ that's a fucking lot of weather on top of you..."

Moving as best she can in the eerie illumination, unnatural humidity, and NVGs, Karolina attempts to navigate the alien architectural additions.  It's an adverse environment even for her gymnastic skills, though.

The Attar times its return for the precise moment Karolina pushes off for a not-quite-leap from one structural element to another.  The gun in its hand is already firing as it pops into view, at least two rounds connecting with Agent Jackson.  The man lets out a muted cry - more of surprise than agony, or so it sounds, but it's hard for Karolina to tell - but he somehow keeps both his balance and his rifle.

The creature's other attack is of more immediate concern to Karolina, though, as it retches forth a noxious green bolus.  The liquid projectile strikes Karolina on the left hip, splattering across her pants and gear and triggering an instant reaction from her sinuses and tear ducts (Kowalska: slight acid wound to left leg, slight "wound" to head from off-gassing).

Half-blinded, Karolina adds her return fire to that of Jackson and DeLuca (Kowalska -10 rounds).  The creature drops back out of sight but she can't tell who hit it or whether it's still in the fight.

James hears the double doors to the warehouse area burst open just as the gunfire erupts overhead.  There's a shuffle-stumble noise, as if several men screeched to a halt upon hearing something unexpected and unwelcome...


Tac-map for Task Force Choi (side doors omitted for clarity):


.          warehouse area
.             [ ][ ]
.            |      |
.            |      |
---JC--------       |
    >               |
    >  <            |
---CC  AS------------
. |      |
. |      |
---      ------

.   Lobby
Michael Dacovetti
player, 296 posts
Tech Sgt, JSOC JCU
keys138
Sat 4 Mar 2017
at 20:10
  • msg #260

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


Having the communication system up and running and tied back into Grey Cell assists in the rebooting of Dacovetti's brain.  The world isn't exactly making sense, the system is far to chaotic to be described as anything approaching organized, but steps are being made to wrangle order out of chaos.  Perhaps if at only the superficial level.  Sometimes, though, superficial control is enough to gain the initiative through confidence.  See also: the placebo effect.

"Foundation, Empire Three copies all.  At this time I am not requesting tactical control, I'm looking for intercept of the emission source before it engages us on the ground."    Engaging the alien forces on the ground would redefine the limits of danger close.  He would literally be trying to use air to engage enemy forces in the same building, which is a challenge that the airman does not exactly relish to try. "Also, be advised we are colocated with Miami SWAT and they are now familiar with the adversary."  Familiar, hahaha.  As if any of them had anything more than the simplest familiarity with the ET threat.

"Cambridge, I need you to try an identify the source emission and categorize.  Is this the same fast mover we saw before or something new we need to be concerned with."  That should prove to be exciting with the weather system overhead.  The same difficulty applying to any intercept options.

Michael shift the weapon in his hands and sweeps the area for targets.  Mutlitasking is somewhat less than ideal.

Michael
Running Comms
Weapon at the ready
MP7 (20/30) 8 mags remaining
James Choi
player, 306 posts
Special Agt, FBI HRT
Raellus
Tue 7 Mar 2017
at 01:47
  • msg #261

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


James wonders at the non-appearance of the expected guests from the back of the building. He was hoping they'd come to him, instead of vice-versa, but that was looking less probable with each passing second.

"Foxtrot Lead, Empire here. Do you still have a visual on the suspects from the loading dock? Over."

-
This message was last updated by the player at 01:47, Tue 07 Mar 2017.
Tegyrius
GM, 683 posts
Tue 7 Mar 2017
at 02:20
  • msg #262

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

"Negative, Empire, no visual.  We're holding position, over."
Sebastien Durand
player, 395 posts
DGSE
Dave Ross
Tue 7 Mar 2017
at 21:14
  • msg #263

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

"Arnesen! Keep watching the door! Focus man!" Remembering his own first encounter with the aliens - and the lack of advance warning they'd had - Durand has a degree of sympathy for Arnesen. But they can't carry a passenger right now. They need the FBI Agent focused.

"I can't see anything." The Frenchman says quietly, looking over at Omdahl. He knows that these things operate in spheres beyond what's immediately obvious. "You got anything Double Down?" His rifle is trained on the doors that they came through, finger poised to send a burst into anything hostile that shows itself. But he can't see anything there except rain.

Bullfrog
Motivating Arnesen / communicating with DD
Firing 2 x 5 rnd burst at any non Grey Cell / LEO personnel spotted
Mk.18 CQBR rebarreled for .300 Blackout (suppressed) (25/30) (in hands)
Glock 21 (suppressed) (13/13) (Holstered)
NVG's On
Hannah Omdahl
player, 198 posts
CWO2, U.S. Army
dcoda
Wed 8 Mar 2017
at 17:52
  • msg #264

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Hannah strained her eyes, trying to pick up on anything through the weather and the darkness.  But there is nothing.  Nothing but a feeling.  She signals that her visual is clear, "Whatever was here, has fled."  Double Down glanced over at Bullfrog, her eyes training upwards as she stepped gingerly back to rejoin the Frenchman and the FBI agent backing her up, relaying what was only a suspicion, "I ... I am pretty sure it when up to the rooftop."  She seemed reluctant to follow and break up the band.

She tapped her throat mike and spoke quickly, "All Foxtrot, Empire Four."  Hannah licked her lips, "Possible suspect or suspects or enemy drone has retreated to rooftop.  Can any spotters confirm and track the bogie?"  The thin army aviatrix glanced over at the DGSE agent, silencing her mike for a moment, "Do we authorize direct engagement?"  It would potentially give away any advantage of surprise; but, at this point they were already engaged and committed.  So, perhaps any element of surprise was now gone...
Sebastien Durand
player, 396 posts
DGSE
Dave Ross
Thu 9 Mar 2017
at 13:49
  • msg #265

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Durand nods briefly in reply when Omdahl asks about direct engagement. He doesn’t stop to ask how she seems to know that it’s headed on to the roof. Since he’d joined this Task Force he has come to accept certain things that he would have considered utterly unbelievable only six months ago. Like the existence of extra terrestrial life forms. There were some things that it was best not to think about things too much.

”Affirmative.” Whatever was out there was clearly hostile. If they didn’t take it out there was little doubt in his mind that it would come after them again. ”Tell the shooters they are clear to use lethal force if they get the shot.”
Karolina Kowalska
player, 246 posts
Captain, GROM
Spartan-117
Thu 9 Mar 2017
at 14:28
  • msg #266

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

"Sukinsynu!" Karolina yelped when the green poison hit her.  Careful not to inhale, she followed with "GAS, GAS, GAS," as she pulled back to her initial position and dropped behind cover.  Kowlaska then removed her helmet, then donned and cleared her gas mask.  Relief was not immediate, as the poisonous vapors had left residue on her mouth, nose, and face, but it was the best she could do at this point.

With the protective mask filtering incoming air, she reached her EMT sheers and carefully cut away any fabric impregnated with green toxin.  She followed by using a field dressing to absorb any on her skin, before discarding it.  Karolina hadn't brought a canteen or hydration bladder for this op, something she now regretted.  As best she could, she handled self-aid, hoping that at some point she could rejoin the fight.

Karolina Kowalska (NVGs on for 1/2 this turn, then helmet and NVGs off)
Moving out of the gas effect and returning to cover is possible.
Mk. 18 CQBR [10/30]
Donning gas mask and treating the poison wound.
Hannah Omdahl
player, 199 posts
CWO2, U.S. Army
dcoda
Thu 9 Mar 2017
at 17:48
  • msg #267

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Hannah gave Sébastien a curt nod.  Of course, the French agent was right; he had a good head on his shoulders.  "All Foxtrot, Empire Four," Double Down intoned into her mike after tapping at her throat to activate it, "Situation on ground is hot, rooftop opposition is armed and aggressive.  Direct engagement authorized.  Mission SOPs stand."  They had been briefed on shoot to kill, and so she didn't think any more would need to be said.  Besides confronted with an alien-looking experimental drone that was potentially killing your teammates, what else could you do?

Her eyes darted upwards as Dancer's mixture of Polish and English broke the through.

Hannah 'Double Down' Omdahl
Retruning to the fold and trying to stay frosty.
Informing the surrounding snipers to take out anything on the roof.
MP7 - suppressed (30/40)
Tegyrius
GM, 688 posts
Fri 24 Mar 2017
at 00:01
  • msg #268

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Karolina pulls back from her precarious perch to one offering marginally more cover.  The fire in her sinuses subsides a bit as she dons her mask, but her eyes still swim with tears.  Through the thick lenses, she can see that her pants leg is scorched and frayed from the chemical burn, and the skin beneath is already blistering.  Muscle spasms and alternating spikes of heat and ice run the length of her thigh as she bares a strap cutter and slashes away a flap of her pants leg.

"Velocity Systems, fuck yeah," calls Agent Jackson from behind his own mask.  He hammers a fist against his vest for emphasis, then coughs.  "Ow, fuck.  You okay, ma'am?"

There's further no sign of activity from the pod suspended above.  Jackson and DeLuca keep their guns trained on the aperture, waiting to riddle the Attar with bullets if it shows itself again.

At ground level, James and the rest of the point element hold position, weapons trained outward.  Despite the gunfire and shouts from above, they're almost isolated, briefly suspended in a moment of potential.

The men around the corner break first - or perhaps something shoves them forward, as Hannah feels a sudden undirected surge of purpose/aggression/wrath that rocks her back on her heels.  She instinctively spins toward the source but the fight is on before she can call a warning.

The first man around the corner leaps out in an ungainly parody of a Hollywood action shot, firing wildly as he comes.  Caradoc's shots go wide but James puts a bullet through his right kneecap (Crewe -2 rounds; Choi -5 rounds).  The man goes down in an ungainly, bloody heap - red blood, not alien circulatory fluid - and momentum carries him into the far wall, knocking the pistol out of his hand.

The man's partner is close on his heels, bringing up a stubby MP5K toward Caradoc's position.  The Welshman shoots first, though, and the heavy 7.62x51mm round blows through the Russian's unarmored sternum and out his back (Crewe -2 rounds [total -4]).  He's dead before he hits the floor.

The last member of the trio is shielded from the agents' fire by his comrades and has marginally more tactical sense.  He pokes his head and weapon around the corner rather than flinging himself into the middle of the hall, and he's already kneeling.  James' burst whips over his head (Choi -5 rounds [total -10]) and the Russian returns fire with his shotgun.  The charge of buckshot slams into Caradoc's rifle and support arm.  The medic goes down with an exclamation of pain.

Salcedo leaves off watching James' back in favor of returning fire on the obvious threat (Salcedo -1 round).  Her shot also goes high but it forces the Russian back behind his own corner.

Back in the foyer, Sébastien's encouragement seems to have pulled Arnesen back on mission.  The agent is sweating and grey-faced but his eyes are focused again and he's moving at Hannah's side toward the sound of the gunfire.  From his rear-guard position, the DGSE agent takes another look out the shattered door into the storm-wracked night but he can't see anything deserving of a bullet.

OOC:

Known enemy status:

Attar A is dead on the floor of the foyer.
Attar B (pistol, large-caliber rifle, acid gland) has soaked up a couple of bullets.  If it's still alive, it's keeping its head down for the moment.
Russian X has been kneecapped and is supine in the hall, screaming ineffectually.  He appears disarmed, though Russian Y's MP5K is within grabbing distance.
Russian Y is DRT in the hall.
Russian Z (shotgun) is just around the corner from James.

Friendly NPC status:

Caradoc is down with a close-range shotgun wound to his right arm.  His HK417 is probably out of action.
Agent Arnesen (M4A1) is physically unhurt but on the edge of being a psych casualty.
Agent DeLuca (MP5SD6) is 100%.
Agent Jackson (M4A1) has taken a couple of pistol rounds to the trauma plate.
Detective Salcedo (Mossberg 500) is 100%.
James Choi
player, 311 posts
Special Agt, FBI HRT
Raellus
Tue 28 Mar 2017
at 17:03
  • msg #269

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


James hears Crewe's cry, knows he's been hit. He assesses targets. The knee-capped Russian still presents a threat. HRT CQQB doctrine deliberately leaves the area grey. If an armed suspect can't be taken into custody, but still presents a clear and present danger to the team, the use of deadly force is implicitly authorized.

"Salcedo! Get Crewe!"

James takes aim at the supine [wounded] Russian's largest mass and squeezes off a coup-de-gras burst.

He then takes aim at the bottom corner opposite and fires again, a longer burst this time, hoping for a lucky ricochet, or at least to keep the man behind it pinned. James has lost track of his ammo but knows he's danger low so, in one smooth, oft-practiced motion, he ejects and flips the nearly empty mag, slamming home the fresh one taped upside down alongside.

James 'Lizard King' Choi
Point assault element
Mk.18 (?/30)
Firing short burst at wounded Russian, longer [suppressive] burst at corner, reloading

-
This message was last edited by the player at 21:07, Tue 28 Mar 2017.
Michael Dacovetti
player, 300 posts
Tech Sgt, JSOC JCU
keys138
Wed 29 Mar 2017
at 23:21
  • msg #270

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

"I've got Crewe," Dacovetti chips in, waving their detective cohort back into position..  The airman moves forward to colocate with Crewe, down on the ground.  Salcedo has the better weapon for dealing with the active hostiles, and Michael isn't totally keyed into the tactical situation due to communication duties.  With one hand still on his own weapon, Michael grabs the loop sewn onto the back of Crewe's vest and starts to pull him back towards better cover.

"Work with me Crad," he says.  The medic's bulk with armor is a lot to move and Michael is grateful when the man starts add force to the equation with his legs as well.  It doesn't take an expert in situational awareness to notice the thick blood trail they're leaving, so Michael doesn't go far before setting his friend down against a wall.

"Not good, right?" Crewe asks.  The pair can't read each other's expressions so instead regard each other through facemasks and night vision goggles.

"You know the answer, brother."  Dacovetti says in unusual sympathy.  The usual almost computational tone of his voice is gone.  "Blood leaking from the damaged container," he continues, "let's seal the breach."  His hand goes to the pouch on Crad's tactical vest labeled "TQ" and pulls out the medic's tourniquet, wrapping it as low on the arm as he can before starting the procedure to tighten the strap, turning it over and over until the blood stops.  A couple of quick flips with his left hand and it's locked in place.

"For what it's worth," Michael says, tapping his patient's shoulder.  If the rifle is still operational, he'll get Crad set.  If it's not, he'll get Crewe's sidearm in his left hand.


Dacovetti
EMS service provider to Crewe
This message was last edited by the player at 23:21, Wed 29 Mar 2017.
Karolina Kowalska
player, 247 posts
Captain, GROM
Spartan-117
Thu 30 Mar 2017
at 15:10
  • msg #271

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

"Yeah, I'm ok," Karolina said loudly through the mask's voicemitter and the pain.  She briefly wonder how much acid these creatures kept in their bodies, but then remembered she didn't really give a shit.  At this point, she just wanted the creature to die.

Of course with the creature's noxious spittle fumes filling her eyes with tears, Lina knew that was easier said that done.  These aliens were fast and she would be hard pressed to line up a shot in her condition.  She'd need another way to ensure the demise of the acid spitting extra terrestrial now hiding out in the pod before them.

Lina paused momentarily to ask herself if she were using the right tool for this job.  She answered that question by letting the CQB rifle rest on its sling before drawing her Colt Wasp.

"Jackson, you and I will empty half a magazine into that pod.  DeLuca, engage any target that presents itself, " she added.  She glanced over to confirmation nods, then took aim at the center of the ovid shape.

"Alright, let's see what these AP rounds can do, Lina thought to herself.  Kneeling and with both hands on the grip, she lined up her sights and opened up with a pair of 3-round bursts.

Karolina Kowalska
Behind any available cover, above the drop ceiling
Colt Wasp [27/27]
Transitioning to sidearm.  Engaging center mass of ovid with 2 x 3-rnd bursts (5.56x29mm AP).
Hannah Omdahl
player, 200 posts
CWO2, U.S. Army
dcoda
Thu 30 Mar 2017
at 18:12
  • msg #272

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Hannah knew that they were still being engaged on two fronts; so, she tried not to dwaddle and further.  She figured Seb was already chomping at the bit; he didn't need to be babysitting Arneson.  Hell, none of them did - but, if it was anyone's responsibility, it was hers.  She tapped the DGSE agent lightly on his 'proper' shoulder and motioned for him to move towards the rest of the group; allowing him to determine if the Lizard King or the Pole Dancer required more assistance.

Then she turned to Arneson, tapping him more firmly on the shoulder, "C'mon, Arneson."  Double Down tapped his helmet a couple of times to get his attention, and once his eyes were locked on hers, she prompted him with more than a touch of urgency in her voice, "Focus.  People are dying here."  It didn't matter if they were the enemy or not; besides at this rate, the man would become a physical casualty himself, if they didn't help him back to the present.

Double Down took a deep breath, causing her slight-ish frame to shudder slightly.  Hannah knew that she needed to focus as well.  Then she gesticulated and made sure that Arneson was paired with her as they retreated to regroup closer to the others.  Their job was still important; no one wanted an Attar ambush up their six.

Hannah 'Double Down' Omdahl
Making sure that Arneson is still with us.
Returning to the fold (with Arnie) and trying to stay frosty.
MP7 - suppressed (30/40)
Sebastien Durand
player, 397 posts
DGSE
Dave Ross
Fri 31 Mar 2017
at 09:23
  • msg #273

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Feeling Omdahl's fingers on his shoulder Durand turns, nods his head to indicate he has understood when she gestures for him to go forward. He can't see anything beyond the doors. Something might be out there. Or it might not. But the rattle of small arms fire coming from the direction of Choi's element was incoming as well as outgoing. There is a definite threat there. As well as what's still going on above his head.

The Frenchman begins to move towards Choi's group, his rifle raised. He can't see what's happening in the ceiling, can't fire blind in case he hits any of the friendlies that are already up there. The room is lit in different hues of green as he advances, confident strides, head moving from side to side.

"Bullfrog approaching from the rear." His voice rings out as he gets closer. so that they know he's behind them. He knows that they know what they are doing but he doesn't want to take any chance. He can see Dealer leaning over Painter as he approaches the corner, steps past them without looking down. The Welshman is in good hands. The best way Durand can aid him is by helping to neutralise the threats ahead of them.

Once he's reached the junction (*) Durand flattens himself against the wall for a moment.  He can see a darker patch on the wall opposite, presumably Crewe's blood. He can hear the sound of his breathing in his earpiece, feel the adrenaline coursing through his system as he keys his mic. "Bullfrog, In position."

Bullfrog
Advancing
Mk.18 CQBR rebarreled for .300 Blackout (suppressed) (25/30) (in hands)
Glock 21 (suppressed) (13/13) (Holstered)
NVG's On

*Am aiming for the spot on the map in Msg 259 where Salcedo is. If she hasn't moved he'll take up position next to her, otherwise he'll fill the space where she was
Tegyrius
GM, 692 posts
Sun 2 Apr 2017
at 18:51
  • msg #274

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

The downed Russian is screaming and clutching at his ruined knee as James lines up his rifle.  He rolls to the side, makes eye contact with his comrade's discarded submachine gun, and stretches out an arm.  The Russian's fingertips are closing on the grip as James' burst rips through his heart and lungs (Choi -5 rounds).

As the muzzle of the shotgun begins to slide back around the corner, James rakes the much-abused wallboard with fire (Choi -10 rounds).  The shotgun disappears but there's no immediate indication of the Russian's status.

With the hand not holding his MP7, Michael snags Caradoc's drag strap and yanks the Welshman out of the line of fire.  Crad's arm is riddled with holes from the charge of buckshot.  Shards of radius and ulna are visible through the blood that's pulsing from his forearm.  Michael yanks a CAT from Crad's vest and cranks it down just above the elbow, pinching off the brachial artery.  Crad groans but the flow of blood stops immediately (Crewe stabilized).

Crad's HK417 is out of action.  There's a hole through the magazine well and the upper receiver's polymer is cracked and spalled.  On the plus side, the rifle probably saved his arm from traumatic amputation.  Michael tugs Crad's Wasp free of its holster and slaps its butt into the medic's good hand.

Salcedo adds a blast from her own shotgun to James' suppressive fire as he begins changing magazines (Choi 31/30 rounds in primary).  She darts across the hall, ducking into the doorway behind him.  "Fuck these guys!" she yells.  "Jim!  Stun out!"  She releases her shotgun to pluck a flash-bang from James' vest and lobs it underhanded (Choi -1 flashbang).  Her throw banks off the far wall and out of sight around the corner.

Sébastien arrives at Salcedo's vacated position in time to hear her warning call.  He pulls back, poised to move as soon as --

WHAM

The corner attenuates the worst of the detonation - for James, Sébastien, and Salcedo.  The shotgunner staggers out a moment later, empty-handed and empty-eyed, and collapses on the blood-sodden carpet.

Pressing the advantage, Sébastien moves up to the Russian's position, planting a boot between the man's shoulder blades.  Looking around the corner, he can see the two sets of swinging double doors that form an airlock between the office area and the refrigerated warehouse.  Through the scuffed Lexan windows, he can see down the warehouse's central aisle to the loading dock.  No enemies or alien architecture are immediately evident.

Arnesen shakes his head heavily.  The motion causes his raised NVGs to flip down over his eyes.  He starts, but the dissociation seems to be what he needs to focus on Hannah's words.  "Shit.  Okay.  Okay.  Let's go, ma'am."  He begins backing toward the rest of the assault team, training his M4 on the shattered door.

Above the ceiling, Karolina swaps weapons and coordinates volley fire.  The blast of the flash-bang outlines the drop ceiling's gridwork for an instant.  It's enough of a cue for Agent Jackson to begin raking the alien pod with automatic fire.  Karolina joins in.  The Wasp stutters out a pair of bursts (Kowalska -6 rounds), punching neat quarter-inch holes in the alien construct.  There's no movement or return fire from the pod.  A moment after Karolina calls for a cease-fire, liquid begins dribbling from the lower set of holes.

Michael's earpiece crackles.  "Mike, your CAP is launching now but there's a lot of weather over you.  If they can't find a way through, the other contact is gonna be on top of you first."
James Choi
player, 316 posts
Special Agt, FBI HRT
Raellus
Thu 6 Apr 2017
at 02:06
  • msg #275

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


Well, that could have gone a lot worse, James muses. Salcedo's sudden action had been reckless, but effective. He opts for praise over admonition- for the time being, at least.

"Nice toss, detective!"

Despite her throwing accuracy, James wants Salcedo out of the way for the next phase of the op. She's proven that she can hold her own, but also that she's a bit of a loose cannon.

"Please do the honors and secure that scumbag." he instructs the detective, indicating the stunned Russian currently under Durand's boot-heel. When Salcedo moves to comply, James addresses the Frenchman and Dacovetti,

"The surveillance team counted three tangos on the loading dock. I count three here."

James points towards the double doors with his Mk.18. "Shall we?"

While he waits for his teammates to stack up behind the doors, James removes a flash-bang from his tactical rig and prepares to toss it into the large room on the other side. When Durand (and maybe Dacovetti) is ready, he pushes open the right hand door with the muzzle of his carbine and tosses the flash-bang, underhand, into the next room. As soon as it goes off, it's dynamic tactical entry time.


James 'Lizard King' Choi
Point element, assault team
Mk.18 (31/30); flash-bang
Prepping-> tossing flash-bang, then commencing tactical entry/room clearing

-

-
This message was last edited by the player at 15:38, Sun 09 Apr 2017.
Sebastien Durand
player, 401 posts
DGSE
Dave Ross
Thu 6 Apr 2017
at 18:22
  • msg #276

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Durand's booted foot remains firmly pressed down hard between the shoulders of the man sprawled at his feet until Salcedo has him secured. The Frenchman isn't actually sure whether the Russian is still alive, but he doesn't intend to take any risks. If the fucker makes anything that looks like a threatening move before he's been restrained, he'll get a double tap to the back of the head.

Otherwise the DGSE operator will wait until the Miami PD Detective has the man cuffed and out of the way before moving forward, a nod to Choi as he does so. "Let's do it." The numbers tally. Three reported, three accounted for. But Durand is taking nothing for granted as he steps up to the doors immediately in front of him, moving to his right as he does so and pulling the stock of his rifle tight into his shoulder.

After Choi's flash bang has gone off he'll go in fast and low, rifle up, barrel moving from right to left, its movements mirroring those of his head as he advances through the 'airlock' and into the loading dock itself. It's safety first as far as the Frenchman is concerned, the team's welfare his primary priority. Anyone - anything - encountered on the other side of those doors is going to be deemed a hostile, to be taken down with deadly force.

Bullfrog
Ready to terminate Russian if he tries to fight / once Russian has been secured advancing into loading dock
Will engage anyone / thing moving in the loading dock with multiple single shots
Mk.18 CQBR rebarreled for .300 Blackout (suppressed) (25/30) (in hands)
Glock 21 (suppressed) (13/13) (Holstered)
NVG's On
Karolina Kowalska
player, 249 posts
Captain, GROM
Spartan-117
Sun 9 Apr 2017
at 15:25
  • msg #277

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Jeśli krwawi, możemy go zabić, Lina thought to herself, despite having never seen a John McTiernan movie.  Kowalska gauged the effect of the rounds, then fired off two more bursts into the pod, bracketing right and left of the oozing liquid.  Once the rounds were sent, she glanced over at DeLuca and Jackson.

"Flank around and make sure it's dead," she said, forcefully enough that the message made it out of the voicemitter at a sufficient volume to reach both FBI Special Agents.

Karolina Kowalska
Behind any available cover, above the drop ceiling
Colt Wasp [21/27]
2 x 3-rnd bursts (5.56x29mm AP), one to the left and one to the right of the lower holes
Michael Dacovetti
player, 303 posts
Tech Sgt, JSOC JCU
keys138
Mon 10 Apr 2017
at 18:55
  • msg #278

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

"Dealer copies all," Michael says into the radio, keeping his voice neutral.  Luke we're gonna have company, rolls through his mind, unbidden.  The second-order effect of the memory draws a smile where it is safely hidden underneath his mask.  Only the future will reveal whether the possible reinforcements for their adversaries will be air support or ground troops.  Or perhaps the American pilots will have banner day to compete with their Australian counterparts and strike another blow against alien technology.  The weather, the airman muses, could, could prove beneficial if conditions are degrading the sensor systems on the alien craft as well.  Maybe even up the chances in a dogfight.

Durand and Choi are starting to stack, ready to assault and awaiting Dacovetti in their midst.  A few more seconds are spent looking at Crewe, hoping the tourniquet will hold and their medic will be safe in his current position.  He'll be safer if the rest of the team can secure the area before the arrival of help from above.

Dacovetti stands and walks forward, pushing the MP7 back and securing the sub-machine gun out of his way.  His commander has brought her WASP into play and Dealer knows that the weapon will be more effective than his current selection.  Stealth is no longer a priority.  The airman moves into the rear position of the stack, his own WASP pulled tight against his body.  His left hand projects forward and squeezes the back of Choi's thigh.  His mind wonders briefly if there's something on the other side of this door they can use on the approaching threat, then it returns to the critical moment before him.

"Good to go."

Here we go again.

Dacovetti
Assaulting to heavy side after entering door, 3rd position in stack.
Colt WASP (27/27) Four mags remaining
NVGs
Tegyrius
GM, 695 posts
Fri 14 Apr 2017
at 19:26
  • msg #279

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

"Got him," Salcedo replies as she shoves a shell through her shotgun's loading gate.  She slings the long gun again and moves up beside Sébastien, flex-cuffing the Russian with brutal efficiency before dragging him back around the corner to the T-intersection.  The man is beginning to recover but a thin stream of saliva dribbles from his mouth and his eyes are blank.

Above the drop ceiling, thin streams of alien fluids continue to drool from the chitinous pod.  Karolina's continued fire (Kowalska -6 rounds) produces a wider spread of leakage but elicits no other result.  Agent Jackson clambers halfway to the pod, then braces himself and aims his M4.  Agent DeLuca moves past him and lets his MP-5's muzzle lead the way through the pod's aperture.  "Tango down," he yells.  "Now what the hell is all this..."

James yanks his flash-bang's pin - and in an untimely failure of quality control, the entire fusing mechanism comes with it.  He recovers, discards the dud components in separate corners of the airlock, and tosses his last distraction device through the doors...

CRACKBOOMWHAM

All three agents' radios roar with static as a lightning bolt slams into the door, blasting a ragged fist-sized hole rimmed with burning plastic and plywood.  The report of the plasma discharge merges with the blast of James' grenade.

Sébastien is moving forward even as fragments of the door pepper his left side.  He bursts through the airlock into the warehouse space, his Mk.18 tracking on the spindly figure bringing the glittering bronze weapon - like none he's seen before, but there's no doubt what it is - into line with Choi's position.  The DGSE operator fires before the alien can follow up on its shot (Durand -5 rounds).  The burst tracks straight up the Attar's body.  Two rounds impact the creature's lower extremities, two more send the plasma weapon into the shadows in a cometary trail of pieces, and the last lifts the top of the alien's skull.

The Attar's partner is braced behind a half-open door of one of the giant drive-in freezers but its eyes are squeezed almost completely shut from the effects of James' flash-bang.  The fire from the terrestrial M4 in its hands goes wide, ineffectually perforating another freezer's wall.

Michael comes through the doors on Sébastien's heels and breaks to the left as the Frenchman tracks right.  His burst at the rifle-wielding alien hammers the creature's cover but doesn't seem to penetrate with any effect on his intended target (Dacovetti -3 rounds).

Slowed by the malfunction of his pyrotechnics and bypassed by his teammates, James holds in place, raising his own Mk.18 to try for a precision shot.  The creature with the M4 is leaning just a touch too far out of cover and James' round hammers through its exposed right knee (Choi -1 round).  The creature's leg buckles and it falls gracelessly away from its cover.

As Hannah and Agent Arnesen pass Salcedo and Crewe on the way to the firefight in the warehouse, a harsh flash from above illuminates the lobby and front hallway --

CRACKBOOM

The lightning strikes Agent DeLuca just above the drop holster strapped to his right leg.  With a startled cry, he tumbles away from the alien pod, ricochetting off structural elements.  His hand clenches on his submachine gun, wild automatic fire spraying upward.  Karolina and Agent Jackson duck for cover until the gun clatters empty just as DeLuca strikes an air conditioning duct face-first.

Karolina catches a brief glimpse of flailing limbs and saucer-sized eyes as something hurtles at her from above.  Reflex brings up an open hand, deflecting the pale, spindly digits grasping for her throat, and the creature spins back into the darkness with a shriek barely audible at the upper range of hearing.
Sebastien Durand
player, 402 posts
DGSE
Dave Ross
Sat 15 Apr 2017
at 18:23
  • msg #280

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Just for a split second a thought flashes through Sébastien Durand's mind as he sees the alien shot by Choi fall to the ground. What if we could take one alive? It's the trained Intelligence Operative with him thinking, his mind processing what intelligence they might be able to glean from it if they were able to interrogate it, what they could find out about their plans, why they were here, where else they might be lurking.

Imagine what it could tell them...

"Engaging!" Durand tracks the thing as it skitters across the floor, brings the barrel of his rifle to bear on the center of its mass, gently squeezes the trigger, sending two lots of double taps in its direction. Taking it alive was a nice thought, but there was no way of telling what havoc it might be able to unleash and the Frenchman isn't about to risk it.

Bullfrog
Discarding any notion of trying to take prisoners and engaging the alien that Choi has already wounded with 4 x single shots (2 x double taps)
Mk.18 CQBR rebarreled for .300 Blackout (suppressed) (20/30) (in hands)
Glock 21 (suppressed) (13/13) (Holstered)
NVG's On
James Choi
player, 317 posts
Special Agt, FBI HRT
Raellus
Sat 15 Apr 2017
at 18:59
  • msg #281

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


"Hold y...!"

Shit.

James had been considering making an attempt to take the E.T. alive- a very risky proposition, to be sure- but Durand had just made the decision for him. It was probably just as well.

"Covering!"

Trusting in his teammate's marksmanship, Lizard King scans the rest of the bay, looking for additional, as-yet, unseen threats.


Lizard King
Point element, assault team
Mk.18 (30/30)
Covering Durand; searching for targets (will engage with 3-round bursts if/when identified)

-
This message was last edited by the player at 19:00, Sat 15 Apr 2017.
Hannah Omdahl
player, 201 posts
CWO2, U.S. Army
dcoda
Mon 17 Apr 2017
at 19:58
  • msg #282

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Hannah grimaced as she brought up the rear with Arnesen, only to be greeted by the sight of a wounded Painter being guarded by Salcedo.  Double Down had nothing against the Miami detective, she simply didn't like to see the teams lead medic (and one of her riding buddies) down with an injury - especially one that in her less than professional opinion didn't look very good.

She was only thankful that it wasn't a deep organic acid burn.

"How are we doing?" the lithe army aviator prompted the crouching Floridian cop, asking Salcedo for a status report on Crewe's wound.  Even as she spoke, Hannah did her own quick assessment, having seen and treated enough injuries in the field to have solid, if basic grounding.  "Don't forget to loosen that tourniquet ever minute or so." Double Down reminded Salcedo, it wouldn't due to have things go necrotic on them.

With the rest of the group still on the move, Hannah didn't have much time to dwell at the junction.  Tapping Arnesen on the shoulder, the thin army pilot continued their bounding overwatch as they progressed slowly and as quietly as they could down the hallway after the others.


Hannah 'Double Down' Omdahl
Trying to regroup and trying to stay frosty.
Will offer help with Crewe as necessary (Medicine:  Trauma Aid - 2/10)
Will MP7 - suppressed (30/40)
Michael Dacovetti
player, 305 posts
Tech Sgt, JSOC JCU
keys138
Mon 17 Apr 2017
at 21:03
  • msg #283

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

The hot sent scent of burning plastic, plywood, and...plasma?...assails Dacovetti's nostrils as he enters through the doorway, directly behind Seb.  When the Frenchman goes right, the American's CQB reflexes engage and he immediately begins tracking to the left, searching for targets to engage.  The opportunity comes, and is spoiled with a burst of inaccuratly placed bullets that glance off or drive through the cover his target is crouched behind.  Any further action on the target is rendered moot when Choi destroys its knee and Seb moves to execute the creature.

Michael turns back to his direction of travel, the WASP still cradled near his body, pulled tight to reduce his target profile and to allow him to respond to targets of opportunity with reflex fire should it be necessary.  He sweeps the area, moving from cover to cover trying to ascertain the location of any other hostile threats.  With the presence of the walk in freezers in the garage, he knows that the likelihood of further aliens is high.  There is no telling what kind of tech they have buried under refrigeration.  And what their adversary will do to keep the humans from getting their hands on it.

With that thought in mind, he starts looking for explosives wired to bring this place down as well.

As if the descending weapon of destruction above us isn't quite capable of reducing this place to slag.

If they can secure the warehouse, maybe they can find something useful in one of these pods.


Dacovetti
Continuing sweep
Looking for hostiles and/or potential explosive problems
WASP (24/27) 4 Mags remaining
Karolina Kowalska
player, 250 posts
Captain, GROM
Spartan-117
Tue 18 Apr 2017
at 08:19
  • msg #284

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

"Jackson, drop down and check on DeLuca.  I'm right behind you," Karolina said.  There was no use fighting these things on their home territory, which seemed to be crappy Floridian warehouse plenum spaces.  As Special Agent Jackson worked his away back to toward ground level, Kowalska swept the area the alien had retreated to with her Wasp, looking through the thermals for any possible targets.  What she wouldn't give for an RPG right about now.  Standard grenades were almost useless in a three dimensional battlespace and other than blind firing, she didn't have any good options to force the alien's hand.  Or whatever that appendage and digits combination was called that had tried to choke her.

Karolina Kowalska
Behind any available cover, above the drop ceiling (moving to ground level next turn).
Colt Wasp [15/27]
2 x 3-rnd bursts (5.56x29mm AP) at any interesting targets.
Tegyrius
GM, 697 posts
Wed 19 Apr 2017
at 01:16
  • msg #285

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Sébastien moves forward through air thick with mist and ozone, firing as he advances (Durand -4 rounds).  The wounded creature twists, catlike, rolling away from his first double-tap.  The second pair of shots brackets it as it attempts to rise again, splattering orange circulatory fluid from its left thigh and right elbow.  The M4 clatters to the concrete floor.

A blink ripples across the Attar's impassive face.  The creature rolls to a seated posture and reaches cross-body with its left hand, tugging a pistol from under its shirt.  The reticle of James' EOTech flickers across the oncoming Glock.  The agent feathers the trigger (James -3 rounds).  The burst rakes the creature's hand and abdomen and the alien flops back with a tearing sound like a lion with a hairball.  It's the first involuntary exclamation any of the team has heard from an Attar.

Michael moves up, checking corners and ceiling shadows through his own gunsight.  He halts a few meters from the shredded Attar, which is still breathing but seemingly checked out of the fight.  Keeping the creature in his peripheral vision, he hazards a peek around the open freezer door that it was using as cover.

Cool air rolls from the warehouse freezer, water vapor condensing into a miniature fog bank.  Through the obscuration, Michael can make out furniture: a card table, folding chairs, an incongruous antique hat rack.  Beyond that, more equipment lines the walls, a jarring mix of terrestrial household and tactical gear and artifacts clearly not made by or for human hands.  Draped over a trio of beanbag chairs, a pile of bedding appears to be arranged into a - nest? - sized for an Attar's dimensions and flexibility.

Hannah pushes through the airlock and enters the warehouse, trailing a still-logy but functional Agent Arnesen.  As she does, the still-breathing Attar rolls its purple-wreathed head toward her and makes momentary eye contact.  There's a sensation like air rushing from a pricked balloon as a presence withdraws from the Attar.  The not-quite-visible corona around its cranium dissipates and winks out.

Above the ceiling, Karolina and Agent Jackson descend toward DeLuca while trying to maintain threat awareness.  The Pole, still feeling the effects of her recently-incurred acid burn, is slower than the more heavily-armored federal agent.  Jackson reaches DeLuca first and braces himself across two structural elements as he reaches down to examine his partner.

As DeLuca's gaze and weapon drop, Karolina's head erupts with sensations of agoraphobic exposure/sabertooth musk/rainbow-glimmering knife pricking her eyelid/predatory talons reaching for her throat/uncoiling malicious serpentine regard (Kowalska - serious "wound" to head).  The edges of her vision dance with purple spikes.  She can't feel her hands, barely feels the small, dense creature land on her back, spidery limbs curling around her torso --

-- below, the bleed from the massive psychic assault slams through Hannah's fragile shields (Omdahl - slight "wound" to head) as she feels the unseen alien, cousin to the one she faced in Australia, reach into Karolina's mind and twist and cut --

-- CRACKBOOM and heat and pressure slap Karolina across the right side of her face as the creature brings up its weapon over her shoulder and unleashes another lightning bolt.  Through the orange afterimage spearing through the purple icicles and the haze of singed hair and ozone, Karolina sees Jackson narrowly twist away from the discharge.  His mouth is open, shouting something, but she can hear nothing --

-- the team's radios die in a wash of static --

-- through the echoes ringing inside her head, through the wash of red across her vision as capillaries rupture, Hannah can sense the raw message being rammed through Karolina's own mind:


This message was last edited by the GM at 01:23, Wed 19 Apr 2017.
Michael Dacovetti
player, 306 posts
Tech Sgt, JSOC JCU
keys138
Thu 20 Apr 2017
at 19:14
  • msg #286

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

[what goes through Michael's head during CQB:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PpJVIhidBXM]

Dacovetti gives the warehouse freezer a "provisional clear" and takes the requisite number of steps necessary to kick any weapons away from the reach of the moaning(?) Attar.  For a moment, he entertains the idea of shredding its face with high velocity WASP rounds.  This idea is dispatched with the realization that this is the first of the aliens that they have actually wounded badly but not killed.  This has the potential to be, in the vernacular, "the jackpot."  Assuming, of course, that they are not killed in pushing the assault farther or annihilated from above in blazing electric death.  Happy thoughts, all, he concludes.

"Choi, up with flex cuffs," he calls, "clearing freezer."

Stepping into the fog brings a blessed moment of relief from the Florida heat and the stress of combat.  Relief that soon plunges into the realm of too cold to actually be comfortable.  Not that hypothermia is going to evolve into a potential problem in any near term scenario.  Weapon up, Michael moves through the freezer, eyes sweeping for movement his goal the bean-bag "nest."

He's turning when the radios go out in a ear-gouging squeal of static.

"This is less than fucking ideal," he mutters.  If it looks like a weapon he can use, he'll take it.  If it looks like a comm device, he'll check it out and see about denying their adversary their network of psychic communication.  Otherwise, he'll move back to the entry of the freezer and wait for Choi and Seb to arrive.

Dacovetti
Clearing Freezer
Wasp 24/27 four mags remaining
Will take a knee in cover and wait if freezer is clear.
Sebastien Durand
player, 404 posts
DGSE
Dave Ross
Fri 21 Apr 2017
at 09:00
  • msg #287

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Durand’s emotions are in brief conflict. A blend of annoyance and irritation that he hasn’t finished the target off conflicts with a quick flash of elation that maybe – despite the Frenchman’s best efforts to the contrary - they will have the opportunity to take one of the things alive after all, at least try and find out what secrets it has within its head. How the fuck do you interrogate an ET? Maybe being waterboarded would feel the same to it as lying on a beach in the south of France would feel to Durand.

That thought is filed away for the moment. After all, it’s still hypothetical. First they have to get the thing out alive.  ”Covering!” Hearing Dealer call for Lizard King to secure their prisoner Durand steps forward, the barrel of his rifle trained on the thing, intending to keep it covered as Choi moves to cuff it, this time holding his fire unless it appears to present an imminent threat to Choi or anyone else.

He’s shifting slightly, eyes never straying from the Attar, when his radio pours out a wave of static, causing his features to wince briefly. The sudden loss of comms is bad. But what’s rally causing the hairs on the back of neck to rise is the feeling that this is the portent that things may be about to rapidly escalate out of their control.

Bullfrog
Moving to cover wounded Attar while it is secured
Won’t fire unless creature is posing a clear and imminenat threat to any team member
Mk.18 CQBR rebarreled for .300 Blackout (suppressed) (15/30) (in hands)
Glock 21 (suppressed) (13/13) (Holstered)
NVG's On
James Choi
player, 319 posts
Special Agt, FBI HRT
Raellus
Fri 21 Apr 2017
at 22:57
  • msg #288

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


You mean I gotta touch that thing?

Dynamic. It's a word that gets thrown around so much that it's nearly meaningless, but in its purest form, "dynamic" fits the current situation to a T.

Let's take try and it prisoner (James was about to say).

Well, I guess not (as Durand blasts it with his carbine).

No, let's. (Dacovetti announces)

OK, then. Here goes nothing...

All in about three seconds.

James has got to trust his teammates. If Durant says he's covering, he's covering. The former HRT Operator reaches for a pair of industrial-strength flex cuffs with his left hand, keeping the short-barreled Mk.18 trained on the E.T. up until the last second. When he's close enough to reach out and touch the creature, he releases his weapon, letting it hang on its tactical sling, then attempts to grab the alien's least-damaged arm/hand appendage near whatever seems to pass for a wrist. After that, it's all muscle memory and, what? Hope, luck, fate?

The thing's not looking so hot. Torn flesh, leaking fluids, its eyes strangely dead. Hopefully, it's in no shape to put up much of a fight. But James isn't taking any chances. His body's coiled and ready to put his unarmed combat training to use, should the E.T. resist arrest.

Lizard King
Assault team, point element
Mk.18 (28/30); Glock 21 (x/13)
Attempting to secure wounded E.T. with flex cuffs

-
This message was last edited by the player at 01:07, Fri 05 May 2017.
Hannah Omdahl
player, 202 posts
CWO2, U.S. Army
dcoda
Mon 24 Apr 2017
at 19:49
  • msg #289

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Hannah grunted in pain as the psychic assault bludgeoned through her meager defenses and tinged her view with the purplish-haze she'd come to associate with the alien mind-control technology.  And yet Double Down intuited that she was not the primary target of the attack.  The base of her left thumb instinctively touched her left nostril though the black balaclava feeling the moistness of her own blood; and she knew that being collateral damage was still possible.

She gritted her teeth though the hiss on her radio and the louder more persistent hiss in her mind.  "Damn it!" the thin army aviatrix grunted and called out to the others in the room, the words like molasses in her mouth, "Their trying a Jedi mind trick on - or through - Dancer...  She ..." and she paused to wipe the perspiration on her brow while trying to swallow with a dry throat, "she needs help!"  Hannah didn't know what else to say, at this point; or what kind of physical or psychic help could be offered.  Hell, she hardly knew how she knew what she knew.

Still, since they couldn't actually see where Karolina was above them, she tried to point out where she felt the emanations coming from.  Double Down could only hope and pray that the others would believe her.

She could feel the thin layer of perspiration on her hands, as her body reflected the mental exertion that was required to keep her brain focused and in the moment.  It would be so easy to cave and let 'Rage' or the 'Submission' imperatives that were battering at her mental door just wash over and consume her.  But it was the consuming part that she frightened and shocked her into action.  She pushed closer to her Grey Cell companions, knowing that radios were going to be useless for the moment.

"We're close..." Double Down prompted her compatriots, unsure if she was modulating her volume correctly, "The enemy is going all out to stop us from going any further."  She didn't know what or how she knew any of it, but the gross attempt and unsubtle message bespoke of desperation to her.  The enemy was pulling out all the stops, which meant they needed to do so in kind.

Hannah 'Double Down' Omdahl
Getting psychically assaulted,
then trying to urge the others forward (and not to split the party!)
MP7 - suppressed (30/40)
Tegyrius
GM, 700 posts
Sun 30 Apr 2017
at 20:45
  • msg #290

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

The mask is tattered.  One brown human eye and one gold slit-pupiled eye blink.  The downed alien is breathing slowly, bubbles of orange froth on its lips.  "Ven sha tlaqoth," it murmurs.  "Thal koven."

As James' gloved hand touches its wrist, its head snaps around.  The eyes focus and it tries to draw a deep breath but the wounds in its abdomen flex and bubble.  It emits another one of those tearing shrieks, but this one is weaker.

James pulls the flex-cuffs tight and executes the world's most nerve-wracking search.  Another one of the long, heavy iridium knives is tucked into the creature's belt.  That goes flying into a corner along with a spare pistol magazine, a cell phone, a money clip, a pair of Ray-Bans, and an Altoids tin.  As he rolls the - prisoner? - over to finish the search, its face contorts.  "They won't bargain for me," it tells him before it slips back into semiconsciousness.

Michael moves forward into the freezer, cataloguing contents as he goes.  An older H&K assault rifle is broken down for cleaning across the card table.  Conservatively-cut dark suits hang on a rack cobbled together from pipes and fittings, the same sort of makeshift construction he's seen on airbases throughout his career.  Unfinished kitchen cabinet units, seemingly brought straight here from the Home Depot warehouse floor, appear to be a food storage and prep area.  A quick scan shows a mix of high-protein snacks from the health foods aisle and dark blue hexagonal packets labeled in white and yellow, the script unfamiliar and eye-hurting.  Three more of the beanbag nests are scattered around.  A low Ikea chair squats next to a stack of graphic novels.  The one on top is an Aliens vs. Predator compilation.

As Hannah fights the secondary effects of the psychic assault, the alien presence resolves into another one of the grey-skinned dwarves, like the one taken in Australia.  She can feel its malevolence squatting above the drop ceiling, back in the direction of the front office.  It's furious, aggressive - and anticipatory.

The building vibrates to a bass-fiddle thrum.  A moment later, a distant but still-strong crack sounds over the thunderstorm - a sonic boom, close and low.
Michael Dacovetti
player, 308 posts
Tech Sgt, JSOC JCU
keys138
Wed 3 May 2017
at 19:41
  • msg #291

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


The aliens have arrived and they are sci-fi nerds.  There is something oddly comforting to know that Michael is not alone in the universe when it comes to science fiction, even if the other consumers of the genre are invaders bent on...well he doesn't really know what they are bent on.  World domination?  Harvesting people for food?  Sport?  The airman does harbor a fantasy, just for one milisecond, of lighting up the pile of dreck that is the Aliens vs Predator compilation just on sound principles.  The effect of gunfire in the freezer on his eardrums dissuades him of the option.  Instead, he moves quickly back down the length of the metal rectangle and watches as Choi finishes packaging their injured prisoner.

"There are three empty nests," he reports.

The building shakes under the pressure wave of an aircraft, or spacecraft, abusing the sound barrier near by.

"I recommend we call this operation a win and withdraw post-haste.  There are two scenarios of action for the approaching enemy.  A, the craft deploys reinforcements leaving us to defend a position we just overran against an unknown force, or B, it nukes the site for orbit.  Both options are sub-optimal for us."

His eyes take in the wounded Attar again and the pile of goodies Choi is liberating.  Michael helps himself to the cell phone, first making sure it is turned off.  "I can help carry if Seb can cover."

Dacovetti
Covering and conversating
WASP 24/27 4 mags remaining
Sebastien Durand
player, 405 posts
DGSE
Dave Ross
Thu 4 May 2017
at 19:15
  • msg #292

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

”I’m on it.” Durand is ejecting the partly used magazine as he speaks, swapping it out for a fresh one. The first one isn’t even close to being empty but now seems like an opportune moment to reload. Just in case. His words are punctuated by the sonic boom that fills the air like some ominous portent of an impending storm that is not born from nature.

The Frenchman takes up a position with his back to the prisoner as Choi secures it, the part of his brain that is a DGSE operator claiming the ascendancy for the moment over the part that just wants to stare at a live extra terrestrial. A random thought flashes through his mind. Was this the first one of these things that had been captured? Or were there others, held in confinement in different black sites around the world? Maybe the Russians had one? Or the Chinese? And how the fuck did you confine an ET anyway? What if it was like the movies where its blood was corrosive, could melt through bars?

Durand shakes his head, forces himself to focus, the barrel of his weapon raised, his head in near perpetual motion, eyes scanning the room, casting the occasional wary glance upwards,  the static in his ear a reminder that they don’t know what the rest of the team’s status is.

Bullfrog
Reloading / covering
Mk.18 CQBR rebarreled for .300 Blackout (suppressed) (30/30) (in hands)
Glock 21 (suppressed) (13/13) (Holstered)
NVG's On
James Choi
player, 321 posts
Special Agt, FBI HRT
Raellus
Thu 4 May 2017
at 23:49
  • msg #293

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Tegyrius:
James pulls the flex-cuffs tight and executes the world's most nerve-wracking search.  Another one of the long, heavy iridium knives is tucked into the creature's belt.  That goes flying into a corner along with a spare pistol magazine, a cell phone, a money clip, a pair of Ray-Bans, and an Altoids tin.  As he rolls the - prisoner? - over to finish the search, its face contorts.  "They won't bargain for me," it tells him before it slips back into semiconsciousness.


"Good to know." James responds to the dazed creature.

Do I Mirandize this thing? he wonders. There's no precedent for any of this, not as far as James knows. He certainly doesn't recall covering interplanetary jurisprudence at his Alma Mater.

"Our new friend here seems pretty weak but I don't know if these cuffs will hold...it." he reports, making sure the restraints are snug. He stands, takes a couple of steps back, gun up, weighing what the team should take, what it can afford to leave behind.

The static in his earpiece was somewhat worrying, but his element needs information before making its next move. He won't know if coms are still up until he tests them out.

"All units, Lizard King. Back way is cleared and secured. What's your status? Over."


James 'Lizard King' Choi
Assault Team, interior loading dock area
Mk.18 (27/30)
Covering prisoner; trying to reestablish coms with the rest of the unit

-
This message was last edited by the player at 01:09, Fri 05 May 2017.
Hannah Omdahl
player, 203 posts
CWO2, U.S. Army
dcoda
Tue 9 May 2017
at 23:29
  • msg #294

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Hannah pursed her lips for a moment, not that anyone could see it except for the ripple across her balaclava.  The blood from her nose bleed smearing a small moist spot on the black woolen material.  She tapped her throat mike, but all she could hear was static - which wasn't like the group to maintain complete silence.  She motioned to Salcedo and Arneson, if they could hear her and it didn't appear so.

Hence the perpetuation of frustrated pursing of lips beyond a simple moment.

Her brow furrowed further punctuating her mood, then she tailed the masculine portion of the group in the back area.  Poking her head in the door way, she pulled down on the opening of her black mask and pushed up her mask for a moment.  "Boys," she hissed insistently, "we have a problem..."  Double Down began to delineate the situation with Dancer, not going into how she knew the exact details, "Dancer is engaged in CBQ above the lobby.  I suspect attempts at both mental and physical coercion by the enemy.  It is a direct engagement."  They had to trust her on the 'mental' part, she'd detected the purple glow involved.  Seb was obviously the back-up tactical leader with the team split and Dancer otherwise engaged (and potentially out of commission).

"She needs help.  ASAP." Hannah noted, while already turning around with one hand already replacing the balaclava and mask to their former positions; Double Down was confident that she could direct the team to the appropriate spot with hand gestures.  Assuming, of course, that they followed her.

As to how to directly engage the enemy without compromising Dancer's position.  Well, that remained to be seen...

Hannah 'Double Down' Omdahl
Moving to the shipping area and then trying to appraise the rest
of the group of the situation brewing above the lobby with Dancer.
MP7 - suppressed (30/40)
Sebastien Durand
player, 407 posts
DGSE
Dave Ross
Fri 12 May 2017
at 19:05
  • msg #295

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

"Copy that!" Durand nods a terse acknowledgment of Double Down's SITREP. He doesn't pause to ask her how she knows what's going on above her head in a confined space that she cannot see. A year ago the Frenchman would have thought that impossible, but what would once have been impossible was now quite normal. Besides; you don't ignore a colleague's call for help. Omdahl's instincts were that something was wrong and Dancer needed help. That was good enough for the Frenchman.

"Grab what you can!" he calls out to the others. "We need to move! Dealer, once we're back in the lobby can you give me a boost so that I can get up into the roof?" The DGSE operator is thinking that if he can get up into the ceiling he may be able to back up Kowalska. At least that's the plan...

Bullfrog
Communicating / moving
Mk.18 CQBR rebarreled for .300 Blackout (suppressed) (30/30) (in hands)
Glock 21 (suppressed) (13/13) (Holstered)
NVG's On
Intending to get up into ceiling and look for Attars to shoot at
This message was last edited by the player at 19:06, Fri 12 May 2017.
James Choi
player, 326 posts
Special Agt, FBI HRT
Raellus
Sun 14 May 2017
at 19:42
  • msg #296

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


"Grab the tech, I'll grab the E.T.!" James shouts to Dacovetti.

"Sorry about this, dude," he says to the alien, mostly sincere. He slips his left hand under the Attar's armpit and proceeds to drag him- is it a he?- through the double doors, around the corner, and down the hall to where Salcedo and a very pale, woozy-looking Crewe are guarding the human prisoner. By the time he gets there, Choi's thighs are burning. The Attar is considerably heavier* than a human its dimensions would be.

"Can you look after my new friend for a minute? He's not feeling so good." he quips to Salcedo. "And don't let the Bureau boys take him," he adds, worrying that Grey Cell might somehow lose the most valuable prisoner in human history to the power of American bureaucracy.

"Upsy-daisy?" he prompts Dacovetti, readying himself to assist Dancer Double-Down, and Bullfrog up in the attic.


James 'Lizard King' Choi
Assault Team, hallway under the pod
Mk.18 (27/30)
Transporting prisoner; attempting to climb into attic and assist his hard-pressed teammates eliminate the alien threat.

*I just made this up. If it doesn't fit, feel free to strike it.

-
This message was last edited by the player at 22:41, Sun 14 May 2017.
Michael Dacovetti
player, 310 posts
Tech Sgt, JSOC JCU
keys138
Sun 14 May 2017
at 20:21
  • msg #297

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


Deciding that anything that falls under the descriptor of "otherworldy" or "indecipherable" probably also falls under the category of "fucking important," Dacovetti scoops up what he subcategorizes as "probable food packets, alien, protein substitute, alternate carbon structure."  In the short time horizon, the exact nature of the packets doesn't matter.  They go in the cargo pocket slung on the back of his LBV along with whatever else catches the airman's eye as possible tech or important detail.

With Choi moving the attar, Michael covers then braces to assist his teammates into their assault of the ceiling structures.  In his mind's eye, he can see the approaching craft, not as a physical presence, but as a mathematical concept, the various options of the future reducing as the time of its arrival approaches.

"I shouldn't tell you to hurry," he quips to Choi making a basket with his hands, "so instead I'll say 'be efficient and effective.'  It is time to exfil."

Dacovetti
Boosting Choi then covering the area
WASP 24/27 4 Mags remaining
NVGs
Tegyrius
GM, 704 posts
Fri 19 May 2017
at 00:34
  • msg #298

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Hastened by Hannah's warning, Grey Cell withdraws from the warehouse.  The Attar's wounds trail a thin slick of red-orange circulatory fluid but the creature makes no attempt to resist.  Its compliance is fortunate for James - the alien masses far more than its slender frame suggests.  The agent has handled Attar corpses twice before, but a moving live specimen is a different experience altogether.

"Oh, look," an ashen-skinned Caradoc murmurs as James' burden comes into view.  "You abducted an alien."  The Wasp in his uninjured hand rises to bear on the prisoner.  "Don't fuckin' move, you."

Salcedo is braced against a wall, her shotgun trained into the ceiling.  "Problem," she injects tersely.  "Standoff.  Bug's got your boss.  Tried to call.  Radio's fucked."  The Mossberg is vibrating with the adrenaline and tension in her arms.

Communicating wordlessly, the four operators shift a few meters toward the lobby, avoiding the line of sight of whatever's at the other end of Salcedo's muzzle.  Michael and Agent Arnesen assist Sébastien and James onto the receptionist's desk.  Hannah, more nimble and drawn like a lodestone to the threat, follows unaided.  The trio exchanges a glance, then carefully ease the ceiling tiles up, leading with their weapons.

Sébastien's field of view doesn't cover whatever threat lies above, but he can clearly see Agent DeLuca sprawled limply across an air conditioning duct.  The man isn't moving.  The blackened wound in his right hip and the smell of ozone and overcooked pork make it obvious that the FBI agent has had a run-in with the aliens' plasma "small arms."  Beside him, Agent Jackson clings to a vertical I-beam with both hands.  His eyes are squeezed shut and tears are running down his face.

The picture presented in James and Hannah's gunsights is no less unwelcome.  Near the warehouse's flat roof, Karolina is making her way farther up the alien additions to the architecture.  Her motions are slowed by the grey-skinned dwarf clinging to her back and the Wasp still clenched in her left hand.  Dribbles of blood run from her nose and ears, matting in her hair.

The alien is naked save for a crimson-and-orange circlet with the apparent texture of coral.  It also is armed - an intricate bronze device similar to the one recovered in Australia.  In Hannah's augmented vision, a dozen coruscating purple spikes emanate from the crown, arching up before angling back down into Karolina's brow.  Thinner threads of purple undulate lazily between the crown and Agent Jackson.  Through it all, a wrist-thick current of purple-white energy, roaring in Hannah's inner ear, links the crown to a central node in the alien architecture.

Neither Karolina nor the creature appears to have noticed the team's stealthy appearance.  However, a hostage shot is uncertain at best.  At the current upward angle, Karolina's head and torso shield far too much of the dwarf's own body.

As the team pauses for a split-second to assess, gunfire erupts outside.  The radio circuit flickers spitefully in and out, admitting brief snippets of shouted commands and chaos.  Karolina and the dwarf freeze and their heads swivel in unison toward the rear of the building.

Positions:

James, Sébastien, and Hannah are in the lobby, atop the receptionist's desk.  From here, they can move into the ceiling space.  No roll is required for basic movement but an Acrobatics check will be required for any complex maneuvers.  Karolina is at least two turns worth of movement overhead without an exceptional Acrobatics success.  They are unnoticed for the moment.

Michael is at ground level with Agent Arnesen (mostly functional), Detective Salcedo (functional but running on the raw edge of consensual reality), and Caradoc (not in any way combat-ready but committed to sitting still with his Wasp screwed into the captive Attar's ear).
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:34, Fri 19 May 2017.
James Choi
player, 330 posts
Special Agt, FBI HRT
Raellus
Fri 26 May 2017
at 23:08
  • msg #299

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


No shot. Fuck.

James considers the angles and they're not in his favor, or K-K's. It's a problem. A big one.

"You got a shot at the grey monkey?" James asks Seb, trusting the team's intercom system to pick up his muted whisper.

Negative.

I guess it's on me then. Fuck.

Grey Cell needs a distraction.

The pod. Is it some sort of generator? A cryo-sleep chamber, like the kind Aliens' Ellen Ripley took a 57-year nap in? Something akin to a vampire's coffin? The E.T.s had been extremely protective of a similar structure Down Under...

"Me neither. On three, I want you to shoot the hell out of that pod thing. I'm going to nail grey monkey if it lets go of Dancer. Ready?"

James doesn't relish the letter he's going to have to write Kowalska's next of kin if this impromptu plan doesn't work.

"One...

Two...

Three!"


James 'Lizard King' Choi
Assault Team, hallway under the pod
Mk.18 (27/30)
Taking aim at the alien backpack; will fire short bursts at it if/when it clears Dancer.

-
This message was last edited by the player at 00:59, Sat 27 May 2017.
Michael Dacovetti
player, 313 posts
Tech Sgt, JSOC JCU
keys138
Sat 27 May 2017
at 00:41
  • msg #300

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Dacovetti cocks an ear to the gunfire outside and tries to fit the significance off this development into his fluid mental model.  All the the outcomes are on the redline side of concerning.  Worse, he's running on incomplete information on what is going on overhead.  The only way out is through.

In a perfect world, he would wait to support the operations of his teammates in the ceiling.  With incoming hostiles, they need information and to possibly some attention away from the feds and police still located outside the target building.  Calm eyes find the detective Grey Cell has appropriated into its operational structure and judge her mental state.  The verdict delivered is not optimal.

"Salcedo," the airman says calmly.  "Detective, it's A-game time.  Situation critical.  Targets now, process later.  I need you on my six.  Got that?  On.  My.  Six.  We need to recon what's going on outside."   It's not the best speech, but Michael does not have qualifications on people skills.

Eyes flick upwards when Choi's plan comes through the distorted team channel on the barely functional radio.  He wonders briefly what the Squadron is seeing approach the center of this storm.  Literal and metaphorical.

"Dealer, I'm taking Salcedo and moving to secure our exit."  His friends will have enough to deal with shortly.

"Arnesen, you have security and backup here with Crewe.  If we need help.  We'll call."

Or simply cease to exist, he adds silently.


Dacovetti
WASP 24/27 4 mags remaining
NVGs
Putting Salcedo back together
Moving to exit, recon and looking for targets
Sebastien Durand
player, 411 posts
DGSE
Dave Ross
Sat 27 May 2017
at 09:00
  • msg #301

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Durand doesn't give a verbal acknowledgment of Choi's transmission, there's just a single squelch in the FBI Agent's ear to signify that his message has been received and understood.

The barrel of the Frenchman's weapon swivels in the direction of the pod. He can't see Kowalska, doesn't know what's going down on the other side of the alien structure. But Choi knows what he's doing. Durand would have made the same decision himself.

His breathing is regular. The MK18 sits snugly in his hands, the butt tight against his cheek. His eyes move over the alien architecture. He's looking for anything that looks important. It's an abstract thought, for there's no reason to think that the structure's workings are going to bear any resemblance to anything man made but he's looking for anything that looks like it might be a convergence of lights or cables, anything that appears to be critical.

Of course, if he does manage to target a critical part of the thing there's always the chance that he might end up setting off a chain reaction that destroys half of Miami. Durand pushes that thought to the back of his mind. If it does happen he's not likely to know much about it anyway. The Frenchman takes aim, then gently squeezes the trigger, unleashing a hail of lead in the direction of the alien structure, not quite emptying his magazine, opting to hold a few rounds back in case any follow up targets show themselves.

Bullfrog
Standing on desk
Mk.18 CQBR rebarreled for .300 Blackout (suppressed) (30/30) (in hands)
Glock 21 (suppressed) (13/13) (Holstered)
NVG's On
Engaging pod with 4 x 5 rnd bursts, prioritising any parts that looks like they might be important
Hannah Omdahl
player, 205 posts
CWO2, U.S. Army
dcoda
Sun 28 May 2017
at 06:02
  • msg #302

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Hannah grimaced slightly, partly from the sight that greeted her and Lizard King.  And partly from the nails-on-chalkboard interference that she was buzzing between her temples - and getting stronger as they got closer to the alien tech.

Through slightly gritted teeth, she hissed, "Go for the machinery... it's boosting the dwarf."  Double Down actually wasn't sure that she was being heard; she was having problems modulating her volume given what she was hearing.  Besides with the balaclava on, coupled with comms being on the fritz, the lithe army aviatrix fell back to gestures indicating the surrounding alien tech as targets.  They may be crude, but she figured those present would get the idea...

Her left hand pointed towards the pod and surrounding mechanisms that she could see Durand already eyeing.  Double Down nodded curtly, pointing to her gun and then to the machinery.  She made an exaggerated show of switching her MP7 to its bursting rate of fire.  Then like Bullfrog, she unloaded everything she could trying to maximize the amount of collateral damage done.

Hannah 'Double Down' Omdahl
Standing on desk, surveying situation
Gesture towards where she wants them to shoot, then ... shooting.
NVGs active, seven 3 round bursts into the seven brightest glowing purple objects
that she can see (except Dancer and the Dwarf, of course)
MP7 - suppressed (30/40) - soon to be (9/40)
This message was last edited by the player at 06:03, Sun 28 May 2017.
Tegyrius
GM, 708 posts
Sun 28 May 2017
at 23:15
  • msg #303

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Sometimes there are no good options.

Michael sprints back through the warehouse, trusting speed and the situation's complexity to keep him alive through the next few minutes.  Salcedo follows at his heels, panting heavily but keeping pace.  The gunfire in the parking lot continues.  To the airman's experienced ear, it's one-sided but the volume of fire suggests something more than mere suppression.  He slows his pace as he crosses into the loading dock, taking momentary cover behind the defunct forklift.  Salcedo sidesteps and keeps moving another few meters, tucking herself into the side of the half-loaded truck.

Sheets of rain slash down from the thunderstorm overhead, turning the parking lot's sodium lamps into glittering veils.  The muzzle flashes of the FBI agents' assault rifles stab upward as the team attempts to fall back in some semblance of order.  Michael spares his electronics a glance.  There's a single large WILDWOOD GROUSE signal, directly above and very close, but three much smaller ones...

Intuition cues Michael before conscious thought can consider the implications.  The Wasp rises.  His eyes tell him there's nothing at all in the air over the trailing FBI fireteam but the thermal imager clamped in an offset mount tells a different story.  There's an instant of now-familiar pain and a snap behind his eyes as he fires.  The first burst goes to the right.  The second one connects squarely (Dacovetti -6 rounds).  Another squid flickers into view as the burst severs a tentacle and rakes its - fuselage?  It's only visible for an instant but that's long enough for Salcedo to put a slug through the complex ball joint where the remaining three tentacles originate.  They fall away, still flailing.  One brushes the helmet of the agent whose neck it was reaching for.  He cries out and falls backward, scrambling away from the contact.  The rest of his team whirls and empties their magazines into the air.  At less than ten feet away, enough rounds connect, even from their blind fire, to knock the "drone" out of the sky in a searing blue-violet arc.

Another glance at the display, and Michael's Wasp comes around again.  Salcedo takes her aiming cue from him as she runs the Mossberg's slide.  Another squid comes in low over the huddle of unmarked SUVs and makes a run at Officer Morris, Michael's requisitioned geek.  As it spreads its tentacles, three tungsten penetrators core it through the long axis (Dacovetti -3 rounds [total -9]).  It clicks into visibility and momentum carries it through the windshield of Morris' Explorer, coming to rest with its front half in the passenger's seat.

There's a sensation of changing air pressure and the sky lights up...



James, Hannah, and Sébastien erupt through the ceiling tiles like a trio of murderous jacks-in-the-box.  The alien dwarf's nictitating membranes flicker in shock as James locks eyes with it through his carbine's Aimpoint.  The federal agent can feel the creature's surprise and confusion.

Hannah, looking the other direction, still senses the whatthefuck moment.  There's a pulse of energy inside the node as the creature reflexively reaches for -- something.

Hannah opens fire.

With her first burst, something inside the six-foot node bursts.  A semiliquid mass slumps, sending out a psychic shockwave so powerful that even James and Sébastien see it ripple through the air.  It's like a punch to Hannah's forehead but she keeps working her trigger, sending rounds tearing through every piece of alien biomachinery that's still glowing to her second sight (Omdahl -21 rounds).

Sébastien feels the entire building shake as he focuses his fire on the central pod, capitalizing on Hannah's first hit.  Shards of chitin and fids of unidentifiable soft tissue spray forth with every burst.  By the time the DGSE agent ceases fire, whatever the device was is neither functional nor alive any longer (Durand -20 rounds).  Over his weapon, he sees the roof buckle upward.

The effect on the alien is immediate and devastating.  Its mouth opens in a silent scream that's echoed to Hannah's enhanced senses - a reflexive, animalistic psychic assault that she deflects with ease.  Karolina spasms and sways precariously, one hand pawing toward a knife.  The creature abandons its mount and leaps for the roof beams...



One of the Miami-Dade snipers rises out of the undergrowth, hands clutching at a barely-glimpsed something lifting him by his neck.  Michael is dimly aware of the cops and feds snapping hastily-aimed shots into the air over their comrade's head.  The squid is a fleck on his display, now barely consequential.  His attention is reserved for a stronger signal, the one that shows no remaining offset from his own position.

The sky above the warehouse goes the color of a television tuned to a dead channel.

Out of the clouds' low underbelly slides a dull gray-green mass the size of a C-130 and the shape of a scarab beetle, speckled with bulges that hint at equipment grown rather than installed.  With a flare of purple light that prickles Michael's exposed skin, the alien spaceship comes to a halt above the building.  A ventral orifice irises open, large enough to swallow a bus.  From around the opening, more than a dozen small lights snap on, projecting sickly yellow-white beams that focus on the warehouse's roof.

There is a rush of displaced air and a snarl of Vulcan fire.  The alien craft staggers and tilts in midair as an F-15 banks away.

As debris hails down, the radio interference abruptly lessens.

The beams of light flicker and dim, then converge.  The building shakes as pieces of its roof sail upward, vanishing into the craft's maw.

Pieces of the roof, and two humanoid figures.  One is small, grey, and tattered.  The other is in familiar tactical garb, trailing long blonde hair coming unbound.

Michael Dacovetti raises his weapon and voice to an enemy sky.




James' burst catches the insectoid dwarf across its outstretched hands (Choi -5 rounds).  Dark fluid sprays from the bullets' stigmata as it scrabbles vainly for a perch.  It falls away - and hangs twisting in midair.

The roof buckles again, then bursts outward and upward, a thirty-foot circle torn violently away from the building.  Through the opening, the storm is obscured by a vast gray-green mass, illuminated by a circle of harsh yellow-white lights surrounding a dimly red-glowing portal.  James, Sébastien, and Hannah feel their stomachs drop as if they're in a falling elevator.

The lights above converge.  The roof debris and fragments of alien architecture begin sliding upward.

The dwarf and Karolina Kowalska rise with them.

James Choi takes the shot.
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:20, Sun 28 May 2017.
Michael Dacovetti
player, 320 posts
Tech Sgt, JSOC JCU
keys138
Thu 1 Jun 2017
at 01:42
  • msg #304

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


This is what alien invasion looks like, Dacovetti thinks in awe.  And the moment is awesome, in the terrible original meaning of the word.  Hanging motionless in the sky, a craft, a biomechanical device capable, potentially, of travelling across space.  A craft that bends the laws and constraints of physics as humanity understands them.  A living thing that is attempting to devour his team leader.  The moment passes, quickly, and Michael's brain doesn't break, it bifurcates.

The TACP goes into motion, one strand grabs Salcedo by the shoulder and starts pushing her towards the SUV with the broken squid/thing strewn across the hood.  The combat ready part of his thoughts has decided that some cover is better than no cover and a large block engine may do something should this situation continue to spiral towards plasma incineration. "Make sure that thing is dead," he tells the detective.  The others will have to deal with the remaining squid.

While his body moves, his mind listens to the newly clear radio channel that connects him with Foundation and through Foundation, the Eagle banking away overhead.  The thoughts needed to coordinate air race forward, form into words, and pass from his lips as reflex, no longer requiring cognition.

"Foundation, Empire Three.  I need an immediate, immediate, reattack from the air support engaging the enemy craft.  It cannot be allowed to leave.  It must be held at all costs. Out."    His voice carries an urgency that he hopes will kick the required action into high gear.

Foundation will have questions.  Dacovetti is too busy to care at the moment.  Dancer is floating into the sky, pulled by a technology that the airman has only read about and accepted in abstract terms.  The WASP in his hands has been deemed inadequate for punching holes in spaceships based less of evidence than hypothesis.  He sets the weapon down next to him on the ground and files it under secondary options.  Then he pulls out the plasma pistol liberated from inside the building.  This thing...this thing...maybe.

The analytical portion of Michael's brain comes to the fore and starts requesting resources.  He's got to figure this weapon out before this ship escapes and takes Lina with it.


Michael Dacovetti
Moving with Salcedo to "cover"
Brief Communication
Trying to figure out the plasma pistol
James Choi
player, 337 posts
Special Agt, FBI HRT
Raellus
Fri 2 Jun 2017
at 14:51
  • msg #305

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


What. The. Fuck.

And somehow, James is certain that he hasn't yet seen it all- not by a long shot.

The Grey floats in his crosshairs. It's an easy shot, but he hesitates, breaking cheek weld instead to open up his sight picture. Dancer is levitating, along with the alien and a good portion of the roof. James is confident that he can finish off the E.T., but what might that mean for his teammate?

When the only tool you've got is a hammer, every problem looks like a nail. At the moment, all James has is his carbine. Shooting the E.T. is out, Dancer even moreso. James doubts that .300 AAC Blackout is going to do much to a spaceship, but if he can hit a soft-spot...

All he knows is that he's got to do something. It's worth a shot.

He fixes the glowing red aperture in his sight picture, and squeezes off a three-round burst.


James 'Lizard King' Choi
'Convertible' Office/Warehouse Building
Mk.18 CQBR (22/30)
Firing aimed three-round burst at red light

-
Sebastien Durand
player, 419 posts
DGSE
Dave Ross
Fri 2 Jun 2017
at 19:48
  • msg #306

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Durand feels helpless. Totally, utterly helpless. The World that he moves in has rules. A covenant between operators.

No one gets left behind.

In Afghanistan Durand fought ferociously to help recover a wounded comrade. In the Maghreb he fought just as fiercely to retrieve a man's body, to ensure that he would receive a proper burial, that his family would have somewhere to mourn properly.

But this....

This...

Sébastien Durand shakes his head. This was beyond anything that he had ever experienced before. His comrade - his friend - is being sucked up into an alien spacecraft before his eyes. And he doesn't know what he can to try and stop it happening.

But he has to do something.

Has to try.

The barrel of his rifle is rising, towards the thing, towards the portal that Kowalska is being drawn into. Durand aims. He's vaguely aware of Choi doing the same thing as he focuses on that opening.

And fires.

His rifle spits out cartridges as he empties his magazine at it. Perhaps it's futile. But he's not going to let them take her without a fight. A stream of obscenities spill from his lips in French as he fires, trying to catch the aliens' attention, draw it away from Kowalska, even if that means it focuses on him instead. When he's fired his last round he'll drop his rifle, let it hang from its tactical sling, reach for his sidearm, trying to put as many rounds into the alien craft as he possibly can.

Bullfrog
Standing on desk
Mk.18 CQBR rebarreled for .300 Blackout (suppressed) (10/30) (in hands)
Glock 21 (suppressed) (13/13) (Holstered)
NVG's On
Trying to draw aliens' attention away from Dancer by shouting obscenities very loudly and firing 2 x 5 round bursts at alien spacecraft / if time permits switching to sidearm once rifle is empty and firing as many rounds as possible
Hannah Omdahl
player, 211 posts
CWO2, U.S. Army
dcoda
Sun 11 Jun 2017
at 06:10
  • msg #307

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Hannah watched in abject horror as Dancer appeared to be out of reach and being in real danger of becoming an actual alien abductee.  She's too far to lasso, even though the emaciated grey dwarf has released its hold on her.  Their team leader was still caught up in some sort of suspensor field (she is still a touch fuzzy on the tech stuff, despite her reasonably advanced education).  And there wasn't really anything available to lasso her with.  For a moment, Double Down hesitated, her left hand had started to reach out towards the Kapitan - despite knowing that Lina is too far away.

The buzzing in her ears is has reached a fevered pitch, she's not sure how the others are able to handle it - but, then she's dimly aware that maybe they don't hear anything at all.  But that is not important.  Not now.

Her eyes darted from Bullfrog to Lizard King and then back to the rising humanoid silouhettes.  She saw her companions training their weapons on the ship's aperture above.  So, Double Down followed suit.  Hannah could feel the light layer of perspiration beading upon her palms and the moment of calmness as she anticipated the recoil of the MP7 in her hands.

Here goes nothing... the lithe army aviatrix intoned to herself and squeezed the trigger to let off two more bursts into the center of Lord-knows-what...

Hannah 'Double Down' Omdahl
Standing on desk, hesitating, then shooting
NVGs active, two 3 round bursts into the center of the ship's aperture
  in an attempt to disable or disrupt the tractor beam
MP7 - suppressed (9/40) - soon to be (3/40)
Tegyrius
GM, 720 posts
Sun 11 Jun 2017
at 18:26
  • msg #308

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

The Grey is centered in James' reticle, but something below the level of conscious thought pulls his aim past the wounded, escaping alien.  The sight picture shudders under recoil - and another spindly, dwarfish body topples out of the belly of the craft, its chest cavity cored by a trio of shots (Choi -3 rounds).

With it fall a weapon from its left hand and another jagged coral-like circlet from its brow.

A pressure wave from above passes over the team inside the damaged warehouse, pelting them with scraps of roofing material from the periphery of the tractor field.  The larger debris pauses in its upward motion - as do Karolina and both of the aliens.

The alien craft emits an almost-subsonic moan as it yaws about twenty degrees to one side and jerkily rotates its presumptive nose to the north.  To Hannah's eye, the unseen pilot is fighting its ship to maintain the hover amid hostile weather and a hot LZ, and it's rapidly becoming an unsustainable maneuver.

The red light inside the portal brightens, then flares sun-hot as something within the craft's belly ignites with the fury of a magnesium flare.  In the intensified light, the tractor field's field of effect is clearly evident, outlined by a cone of small debris particles.  At its apex hangs a silvery platter suspended from a curved, multi-jointed armature.

If nothing else, it's an aiming point.

Sébastien and Hannah raise their weapons in unison and open fire.



The plasma pistol is cool in Michael's hands, and heavier than its size suggests.  But it's built for an Attar - which is to say, it's built for hands with nominally-human anatomy.  Ergonomics, at least in this case, seem to have dictated design.  An unlabeled three-position rocker switch is nestled in a recess above the grip, within reach of a thumb.  At the middle position, the rain-streaked air shimmers in a fist-sized bloom over the weapon's barrel.

Michael sights down the tube and the shimmer resolves into an oval heads-up display.  The colors slant toward the blue end of the visual spectrum, and characters in no alphabet he's ever seen dance around its periphery.  But the cyan triangle in the center is fairly obvious.

There is a protrusion in the grip under Michael's first two fingers, but it is rigid under pressure.  A three-character word flashes across the display's center in nauseating green.

Distantly, Michael is aware of Salcedo and Morris emptying their shotguns into the squid.  At the corner of his vision, he, too, sees the alien craft yaw and rotate.  The greater part of his attention is focused on his hands.

He rocks the switch to the third position and raises the alien weapon again.  The craft's rotation has exposed the cannon hits in its flank, purple and bone-white substructure showing through the ragged holes in the gray-green carapace.

This time, the trigger moves --

CRACKBOOM



The plasma blast strikes just at the edge of the cannon wound.  There's no discernible sign of additional damage but after a stunned silence, the mixed law enforcement team in the parking lot reacts like a cat confronted with a laser pointer.  Shotguns, MP-5s, M4s, Glocks, and the odd personally-owned non-regulation firearm open up on the alien ship in a barrage straight out of a Michael Bay film.

The net effect on the spacecraft's carapace is imperceptible but it's apparently the last straw for the pilot.  Another aperture snaps open.  Instinct propels Michael away from his firing point as his skin prickles an instant before a wrist-thick line of acid-green energy lashes out at him with a hiss of displaced air.  The forklift catches the brunt of the beam and its propane tank detonates, spraying shrapnel across the loading dock.  Something smacks the airman over his left kidney and another impact gouges an ugly trough across his left bicep (Dacovetti: slight wound, left arm; armor stops the abdomen hit; +4 rads).  His exposed skin prickles.



James, Sébastien, and Hannah shift their aim to the weapon's maw, running their weapons dry.  They can see their rounds impacting around the smaller aperture...



Salcedo's grip on the drag strap of Michael's armor brings him upright and back into focus.  He raises the plasma pistol again.  The ringing in his ears almost drowns out the blast of his second shot...



A bubble of flame burps from the alien craft's cannon-riddled flank.  The air reverberates with pressure fluctuations and the stink of ozone is heavy as the alien craft tries to maintain altitude and position.  Hannah can feel the panicked instant when the pilot gives up and shoves the metaphorical throttles to the ship's equivalent of a firewall, turning toward the ocean and climbing out before the next critical system fails.

And she knows before she sees the debris start to fall that part of that emergency maneuver has to be cutting power to anything that's not essential for flight.

Mixed pieces of warehouse and spaceship plummet across the retaining pond to the southeast, Palm Avenue, and the Ronald Reagan Turnpike.  Pieces of debris... and two aliens and Karolina Kowalska.
Michael Dacovetti
player, 323 posts
Tech Sgt, JSOC JCU
keys138
Sun 11 Jun 2017
at 21:05
  • msg #309

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


The operational parameters of this weapon match or exceed expected human norms.  Expect potential temporary hearing loss as well as priority target selection for vehicle mounted weapon systems.  Be advised that because this is an energy weapon, recoil is approximately 50% less than decibel level would indicate.  Perhaps writing the eventual technical manual on the pistol isn't the best use of Dacovetti's admittedly limited time, but the airman can barely help himself.  It's his attempt to normalize the experience of firing an alien weapon at an alien spaceship.  At least until the burning in his arm wrenches his attention back to the immediate present.  A glance tells him that he's not going to bleed out anytime soon, even if it hurts.  Another scar he'll be left explaining to his wife (ie: making up a bullshit story she'll pretend to believe so they don't have to process out what he really does).  The impact above the kidney will probably have him pissing blood.

Then his eyes track the debris falling from the retreating spacecraft.  One that he hopes will still fall victim to the combined efforts of the United States Air Force.  If the F-15 can get back around before the alien craft manages to once again defy (or more strongly defy?) the known laws of physics.  Debris containing Lina.

Morris is talking to him.  From the far end of a tunnel.

"What?"  Dacovetti says around what he hopes to be temporary tinnitus.

"You're hit!"  Morris says again.

"Yes.  I know.  Thank you."  Perhaps he's not yelling.  Perhaps he is.  "We need to be in motion.  There's people in the debris.  Mine and theirs.  Come on."

Michael clicks the rocker switch back to 'safe(?)' trying to keep his eyes away from the HUD unless absolutely necessary due to the apparent optical assault the Attar visual spectrum in capable of inflicting on human organs.  He switches the weapon to his less optimal hand and starts pulling one at one of the tentacles on the octopus embedded in the front of Morris' Explorer, trying to work the machine free and render the vehicle operational again.  Running seems like a waste of time and he'd really like to secure whatever they might find.  "A little help, here?" he asks Morris.  To Salcedo he asks: "Do any of your people have eyes on Lina or the others who fell?"
Sebastien Durand
player, 421 posts
DGSE
Dave Ross
Mon 12 Jun 2017
at 18:28
  • msg #310

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Durand looks skyward, the Glock lowered, watches as Dancer falls.

And there is not a thing that he can do to prevent it. He is just a spectator. Helpless. Impotent. He wants to look away but he can't, can't tear his eyes away from the falling body, watches until she disappears behind what is left of the building. Only then does he turn his head away, close his eyes, even although it's futile, for the warehouse walls prevent him from seeing his teammate hot the ground.

FUCK!

"Man down. MAN DOWN!" He's yelling over his throat mic as he clambers down from the desk. He feels numb. He's taken casualties on operations before. But that never makes it any easier the next time it happens. The fact that they have apparently driven off an alien spacecraft isn't even registering in his brain. His movements are automatic, driven by instinct, rational thought forsaken as he sprints out of the building, trying to locate the spot where Kowalska had fallen. The FBI and the local PD are moving around him. Time is playing tricks with his mind, making everything seem to simultaneously rush by and yet also stand still. Someone is talking, or at least their lips are moving, pointing at something but Durand isn't listening, isn't looking at what they are pointing at.

Somehow, maybe, perhaps the fall had not been fatal. He knows he's clinging on to a hope that is likely futile. But until he sees her body he's not going to let that hope go. "We need a medic! NOW!"
James Choi
player, 339 posts
Special Agt, FBI HRT
Raellus
Tue 13 Jun 2017
at 21:01
  • msg #311

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


James ducks, tucking his chin to his chest, instinctively raising his left hand to cover the back of his neck. Bits and pieces of the roof and ceiling are falling all around. His mind races.

We just shot down a spaceship!

Han Solo's voice, "Great, kid! Don't get cocky!"

Damn! First, I'm in Aliens, now I'm in Twister.

Kowalska!

He's got to get under some kind of cover, got to get outside. He drops down to the receptionist's desk, barely keeping his feet, jumps down to the abnormally dusty carpet. The front doors are closest. He drops his empty mag as he runs, slams home a fresh one, slaps the side of the receive to release the bolt. He hits the door hard. If there was still glass in the metal frame, it probably would have shattered from the impact.

He hits the sidewalk, desperately searching for his fallen comrade.

-
This message was last edited by the player at 21:02, Tue 13 June 2017.
Karolina Kowalska
player, 254 posts
Captain, GROM
Spartan-117
Thu 15 Jun 2017
at 09:44
  • msg #312

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Lina was semi-conscious though she recognized the sensation of prolonged falling.  It was as unnatural now as it had ever been.  She knew she should be worried, but wasn’t.  Instead, there was something else.  She felt something akin to deja-vu.  Karolina opened her eyes slightly.  She didn’t see the stormy Florida night however.  Nor the quickly approaching pavement of the Ronald Regan Turnpike.

Fields of green and rolling hills.  A farmer with scythe cutting hay in bright sunshine.  Cool fresh air beneath a dome of Carolina blue sky.  Dogs barking in the distance as she floated effortlessly in the sky.  This wasn’t Florida.  It was familiar though.  Lina suddenly remembered.  It was her first training jump.  She was outside of Krakow.  If she pulled her left riser and turned, just a bit…

She did so, just as she had done that first time.  And soon, in the distance, she could see Zamek Wawel.  Then beyond, the twin towers of Saint Mary’s Basilica.  Poland’s old capital gleamed spectacularly in the fall sun.  Lina let herself bask in the memory.  A memory of home on a beautiful day.

A memory suddenly and violently interrupted.

In Florida, a Kevlar helmet shattered against rain soaked asphalt.
This message was last edited by the player at 09:46, Thu 15 June 2017.
Hannah Omdahl
player, 215 posts
CWO2, U.S. Army
dcoda
Sat 17 Jun 2017
at 06:55
  • msg #313

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Hannah flinched instinctively, when spotlight winked out and alien craft started to pull away with envy-inducing speed and maneuverability.  Building debris and detris began to fall from the sky once the artificial gravity stopped its unnatural tug.

The pelting of dust brought the sudden awareness that inorganic material wasn't the only thing that had been caught up in the beam.  Far from it.

Panic began to grip her heart and the lithe army aviatrix took in a short sharp breath.  James was already jumping down from the desk; Hannah could only move to follow suit.  Dealer was yelling for information; Double Down simply craved the same - they needed to know where Dancer was.  Durand was barking into the comms for a medic; Omdahl could only listen in horror.

Already off of the desk and moving towards the shattered glass doors that had been the building entrance, the thin army pilot prompted the Frenchman, "Which direction?  Which direction was she pulled in?"  Part of her didn't want to know.  And yet, Hannah really did need to know...
Tegyrius
GM, 722 posts
Sat 17 Jun 2017
at 20:27
  • msg #314

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

The alien craft staggers southeast, straining for altitude and the concealment of the storm.  It's someone else's problem now.  From the parking lot, there's a last flurry of gunfire as someone makes sure a squid isn't going to get up again.  The cacophony of panic on the tactical channel begins to sort itself out as Murchinson and one of the local cops start calling for casualty reports and a perimeter.

"What the fuck kind of X-Files shit is this?" grunts Morris, but he grabs an edge of the squid's carapace near the tentacles' junction and puts his back into it.  The combined effort hauls the - drone? - through the Explorer's windshield to roll off the hood, splashing into the puddle around Michael's boots.  The hood is scraped and dented and the safety glass is dished in almost to the dashboard, but the engine still cranks when Morris slides in and turns the key.  Michael piles into the passenger's seat, ignoring the fragments of windshield under him, and Salcedo dives into the rear.

Sébastien and James hit the shattered doors side by side.  Hannah follows them through before the empty frames have a chance to rebound.  Rain-whipped wind lashes their faces as they charge out into the storm.

"Nemesis to all Empire elements, your airspace is clear.  We're launching the medevac bird with a backup pilot.  ETA four minutes.  You've got them direct on this channel, call sign Landslide Three-Three."

Across the retaining pond, the FBI sniper team is crouched on the edge of the edge of the retaining pond, weapons pointing into the water.  One of the agents splashes in hip-deep, bends down, and hauls at a short, spindly arm.  His urgency turns to revulsion as he realizes what he's holding and he backpedals, splashing frantically away, bringing his pistol into line again.

Morris skids his Explorer around the building's southwest corner and guns the engine, aiming for the chain-link fence between the office park and the parkway's verge.  There's a tooth-grinding impact and both front tires blow out, but two poles snap, bringing down a good twenty feet of the barrier.  The Explorer slithers down the embankment and splashes down in the fast-running drainage ditch.

Hannah, James, and Sébastien dash for the opening, passing the Explorer as Michael extricates himself.  The opposite embankment up to the road is strewn with roof debris and off-gassing parts of the alien vessel.

Hannah stumbles on a piece of debris and glances down as she hurdles the guardrail.  It's a ballistic helmet identical to the one she wears, split in three by a crushing impact.

Another flash of lightning illuminates Karolina Kowalska's supine form on the tarmac of the the westbound emergency lane.  The rain is washing her face clean, thinning the blood that trickles from the indentation in her right temple.  Her eyes are slitted open but there's nothing in them as Sébastien kneels over her.

A single bubble of blood rises in her left nostril, then bursts.

Hannah skids to a halt and grasps Karolina's wrist.  She can't find a pulse.  But there's an extra joint in the forearm and she can feel bone ends grating.  She slides her hand up, searching for the brachial artery.

There, she can feel a pulse - and then she can't.
Sebastien Durand
player, 422 posts
DGSE
Dave Ross
Mon 19 Jun 2017
at 19:49
  • msg #315

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Durand takes a deep breath. He's locked eyes with death before. One look at Kowalska is enough for him to know that she is beyond the help of any medic, even if one should be found. Part of him had already known that as he had watched her fall, but he had clung to the hope that she might somehow, by some miracle, have survived.

But that hope was gone, smashed into pieces, just like the kevlar helmet that lies on the road, one part of it still gently rocking backwards and forwards. Different emotions are coursing through him now, each vying with the other for the ascendancy.

Anger, anger at those who have done this, an anger that is coursing through him, searching in vain for an outlet, for he wants to lash out at something but the firefight is over, the spacecraft is returning to whence it came, or at least attempting to, but its pursuit is down to others now, is out of the Frenchman's hands, so there's nothing for him to lash out at, nothing that he can take that anger out on.

Self recrimination tries to push the anger to the side for a moment. He's trying to recall the last five or ten minutes, what he could have done differently to prevent this from happening, what he shouldn't have done. Did they push forward too quickly, leave Kowalska vulnerable? Did he leave her vulnerable, exposed? If he had stayed in the reception area would it have gone any differently? He should have prevented this. Somehow, he should have stopped this happening.

But above all, above the anger and the blame, there is simply sorrow. A raw, painful numbness that is spreading through him, permeating every fibre of his being. It's fuelling the anger, feeding it, pushing the self recrimination to one side, for now at least. It would come back later, to haunt him, in the weeks and months to come, as he replayed this scene over and over in his mind. And always it would end the same way, with Karolina lying on the ground. Broken.

Durand shakes his head, takes off his helmet, pulls up his balaclava. He's still kneeling over her, one knee on the tarmac. He can hear Bannon's voice in his earpiece but he's not listening to the words. can feel the rain run down his face as he kneels there. He could tell her that everything was going to be OK, but it's not. And he's not going to let the last thing that she hears be bullshit. If she can even hear him.

"Karolina, it's Seb. I'm here. We're all here." He pauses briefly, his voice choking, the words catching in his throat. "We got them, boss." If she can hear him perhaps it would give her some solace to know that they had achieved their objective, and that she was not going to die alone. Perhaps. There's nothing else that Sébastien Durand can do for her now.
James Choi
player, 341 posts
Special Agt, FBI HRT
Raellus
Mon 19 Jun 2017
at 20:35
  • msg #316

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


Hannah and Seb are both seeing to Kowalska. His first glance at his fallen teammate tells him it's not looking good. James tries to take it all in, to process it, wring order from the chaos. The situation is, to crib a term from anachronistic army speak, FUBAR.

Fire in the sky over Miami; the better part of a business complex destroyed; multiple alien bogeys down; witnesses from at least three agencies, let alone any poor schmuck traversing the Ronald Reagan expressway with a dash-cam or cell phone this time of night. And Dancer. The costs counted, the second-guessing begins...

Better to do right now than to think.

"Lizard King to Landslide Three-Three. We've got a man down on the southeast croner of the building. Looks like massive blunt force trauma to the head. Pulse is... weak. Requesting immediate dust-off. Over."

More witnesses. Fuck it- it's Dancer here.

While he awaits medevac crew's reply, he scans the wet, debris-strewn asphalt of the parking area, and the grassy verge beyond, looking for aliens, alive or dead.

What a fucking mess...

-
This message was last edited by the player at 18:57, Tue 20 June 2017.
Hannah Omdahl
player, 216 posts
CWO2, U.S. Army
dcoda
Mon 19 Jun 2017
at 22:15
  • msg #317

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Hannah's burgundy lips were pressed thin, into a tight moue.  She was winded having run full tilt to reach the Dancer's prone figure lying in the middle of the Reagan Turnpike.  Her weapon hung free, tethered by its tactical leash and her night-vision goggles lay on the ground next to her and her helmet.  Her balaclava was stuffed along with her gloves in her helmet.

Double Down didn't feel the precipitation on her bare face and hands, or the fatigue that should have been creeping into her muscles from all of the exertion and excitement.  Still, she didn't feel anything but a gnawing, primal worry.

Her hand moved quickly from Dancer's exposed wrist to the placing her fingers on her neck.  "C'mon..." she grunted through gritted teeth.  She ignores the blood seeping onto the asphalt.  "Faint arterial pulse..." she narrated over the open line for to no one in particular... or perhaps for Painter's remote edification.

Then a pause.  One that seemed to last an eternity for her.  "No..." emanated from the lithe army aviatrix's lips, "No, no, no...."  Her hands move quickly to the prone figure's tactical vest, pawing at the velcro straps and buckles.  Hannah started to pull away the vest in order to start compressions.  "Durand!  Quickly..." she called out even as the paramilitary webbing came free and Omdahl placed her hands over Kowalska's sternum.

"One, two, three, four..." Hannah pushed down in rhythm, then moved to try and force air into Lina's lungs.  Then repeat the whole cycle again.  Though she'd not had much first aid training, she knew CPR.  And Double Down could and would continue to administer it for as long as humanly possible.  This was Dancer after all ...
Sebastien Durand
player, 423 posts
DGSE
Dave Ross
Tue 20 Jun 2017
at 18:28
  • msg #318

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Still kneeling, Durand turns towards Hannah when he hears her say his name. It takes a moment for him to snap out of the dark thoughts that have enveloped him and realise what she's doing but when he does he moves quickly, moving around Kowalska until he is kneeling opposite Omdahl.

"I can take this if you want to give her mouth to mouth!" Or he can give her mouth to mouth if Omdahl wants to carry on with the compressions. Recalling Bannon's message the Frenchman also yells to the rest of the team. "Jim! Mike! Bannon has a casevac helo inbound! See if you can find a way to mark our position for him!"
Michael Dacovetti
player, 325 posts
Tech Sgt, JSOC JCU
keys138
Sat 24 Jun 2017
at 19:11
  • msg #319

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

The rather abrasive impact of the Explorer on the chain link fence followed by the abrupt deceleration into the drainage ditch leaves Dacovetti shaken for a few seconds.  The experience isn't one he'd care to repeat and it's reminiscent of a Blackhawk crash (or "rapid controlled decent") he'd been in back before his JCU days.  It takes a moment for the CPUs in his brain to start firing in line again, muscles move before conscious thoughts propel them, opening the door to the now officially wrecked SUV and driving him behind his colleagues to the body of their commander.

Blood and debris litter the highway.  A highway that also contains a broken body and two people doing CPR in an attempt to push life back into Karolina.

Less than 5% of traumatic arrests respond to CPR.

The thought comes undbidden, a retrieval of some random factoid dredged up from a Combat Life-Saver course.  These are terrible odds.  Terrible odds performed by a team that is expected to perform miracles as a matter of course.  A team that has bucked the odds enough times for Michael to know that eventually, given enough iterations, the odds will fail them.  He isn't enough of an asshole to point this out.  So he does what he is supposed to.

"I'm on it," he tells Seb, turning to go back to the Explorer where he expects he'll find flares as part of the Law Enforcement kit in the back.  "Salcedo, on me," he gestures with his hand.  He keeps talking as the detective falls in line.  "I need your people to bring Crewe and the...prisoner here to the highway.  They need to be evac'd as well.  Now."  The order given, the airman's brain disengages and moves to the next problem.

He pulls the iPhone of his arm and checks for the signal.  Still there.  "Nemesis, Empire Three on the phone line,"  he says into the secure phone.  No reason to tie up the radio and stress everyone out.  Worse.  It takes the chief a second to respond, presumably as he realizes he's not being talked to on the radio. "Empire Six is down hard," Dacovetti says into the phone.  "CPR in progress.  Empire One is injured.  We are moving him and a live Attar to the LZ.  Hold the bird until they are loaded."  Lina would understand, Michael thinks.  She'd have to.  Another of her people is badly injured.  And they have a live alien.  One they need to keep alive.

The iPhone goes back, the radio returning to focus.  He collects the flares and starts running back to the blacktop, trying to ignore the rain and the feelings of betrayal he's dealing with.

"Landslide Three-Three, Empire Three.  I have your terminal guidance.  Marking LZ now by road flares on the highway."  The first of several magnesium fed fires breaks through the gloom in Dacovetti's hand, illuminating the pain etched on his features.
Caradoc Crewe
NPC, 42 posts
Corporal, 21st SAS
Mon 26 Jun 2017
at 01:20
  • msg #320

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Caradoc staggers up, gray and drawn, leaning on a wide-eyed Agent Arnesen.  He takes one look at Karolina, then gives Michael a longer, pained look before beckoning him closer.  "Mike.  Don't send the Attar out.  We can't risk contaminating a hospital."  He eases himself to the ground, leaning against the highway guardrail.  "Triage.  Three patients, trauma red.  Put Lina on the bird.  DeLuca too.  Similar injuries plus a plasma shot.  Don't know how the fuck to write that up.  And one of the cops.  I didn't get a name.  Ligature strangulation with a partially collapsed trachea.  He's intubated."  With his good arm, he points back toward the warehouse, where two knots of men are struggling toward the highway with folding litters.  "Make sure the bird is going to Ryder."  His eyes start to slide closed.  "I know my fuckin' hospitals...
This message was last edited by the player at 01:52, Mon 26 June 2017.
Tegyrius
GM, 723 posts
Mon 26 Jun 2017
at 02:08
  • msg #321

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

The Knighthawk descends out of the driving rain.  The anticollision lights are off in a flagrant violation of FAA regulations and it's well below the 500-foot minimum altitude for a populated area.  Whoever's at the stick of Hannah's borrowed helicopter is treating this like a combat mission - which, for all intents and purposes, it is.  The bird circles once, then stoops from the west, blasting precipitation and debris outward.  James and Michael huddle over Sébastien, Hannah, and Karolina, letting their bodies and armor take the worst of the battering.

Sergent-Chef Christophe Vidry comes out of the bird with three of his air commandos on his heels, followed by a tightly-wound Barbrak Tarabi.  Vidry takes a look at the knot of Grey Cell personnel and shoves his medic forward - unnecessarily, she's already in motion.  The Frenchwoman drops to her knees and pulls Hannah aside to slap a bag-valve mask over Karolina's face while one of her comrades hauls over a backboard.  "Get her on that and let's go," she says tightly.  "I have an AED but I can't use it in this shit.  Sébastien!  Stop!  We need to move her!"

Vidry draws Hannah and James aside with a look.  "You have an Attar.  Where?"  He checks both of the arriving litters.  "Neither of them?"

"I said don't send the fuckin' bug to a fuckin' hospital!" Caradoc tries to shout before slumping back, exhausted with the effort.

Vidry processes the input from annoyance to shock to queasy understanding.  "Putain de merde.  All right.  We'll take it back to the base by ground.  Somehow."  He glances around for a vehicle, finds none at hand, and turns back to James.  "Blanchard will go with the captain.  I'll stay here with Jordan and Béranger.  Where's the bug?"

ASAC Murchinson detaches himself from the group around Agent DeLuca and the unnamed officer.  His mask of tightly-controlled fury promises uncomfortable questions later, but for now he stays on mission.  "The prisoner is in custody."  He jerks his head toward the warehouse.  "We're keeping him inside while we bring up a car for transport."

"If you think that's a 'him,' you don't have it in custody," Salcedo growls, and takes off at as much of a run as the rain-slick grass allows.  Vidry's eyes go wide and he snaps an order to his men, who peel off in pursuit.

The stretcher party slides Karolina into the helicopter beside DeLuca and the intubated cop.  Baudin detaches himself from the starboard door gun and takes over chest compressions as the medic - Blanchard - begins prepping the defibrillator.

Barbrak turns away and gathers up Michael and Sébastien.  "Three loaded!" he yells over the engines, holding up three fingers for confirmation.  "I have weight for two escorts!  Who's going?"
Sebastien Durand
player, 427 posts
DGSE
Dave Ross
Fri 30 Jun 2017
at 20:24
  • msg #322

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

"I'm going." Durand turns his head to see a guy in a windbreaker emblazoned with the letters FBI has stepped into the conversation. "We've got people down too." The DGSE Operator can't work out whether the guy is challenging him, blaming him for the fact that there are also two wounded LEO's aboard the Knighthawk, or simply trying to justify his presence aboard the helo.

It doesn't really matter. They don't have time to get into a dick measuring competition. And besides, if Durand had two men down he'd be demanding a seat on the rescue bird as well. The Frenchman nods his acquiescence to the request / demand, turns to Barfight and Dealer. "I'll go with Dancer." It wasn't phrased as a question. If there was more alien tech to be recovered here that was Hannah and Mike's area of expertise. They might need Choi and his badge if the cops tried to take possession of the Attar. Durand was an operator. It wasn't so much that he was now surplus to requirements, it was more that the others were more skilled to perform the jobs that probably still needed to be done here. And if they needed operators Vidry and his men were more than capable.

Durand locks eyes with Dacovetti "I'll keep you updated with any news." Until you can all get there yourselves went unsaid. There was no need. And then the Frenchman turns back to Barfight. "Let's go. Crewe said to take them to Ryder." He's already in motion as he passes on the Welshman's instruction, shouting above the noise of the turning rotors. his nomex gloved right hand grasping the lower receiver of his now empty rifle, the contents of the current magazine having been expended firing at the alien craft. He's not sure what the difference between hospitals is but if Crewe had thought it was important above to mention Durand intends to make sure it happens.

Scrambling aboard the helo he looks around for a seat, somewhere he won't be in Blanchard's way, so that the medic can do her job. Once he's strapped in he'll take off his helmet, hold it upturned in his lap, his balaclava dropped in it, the butt of his rifle on the floor as he calls over to Baudin. "Hey, Baldy, as-tu un casque de rechange?"

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
Hey, Baldy, do you have a spare headset?

Michael Dacovetti
player, 330 posts
Tech Sgt, JSOC JCU
keys138
Sat 1 Jul 2017
at 14:03
  • msg #323

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

With Crewe giving medical orders, Michael bows out of the decision making process, aware of his limited expertise and place in the order of things.  Instead he does what he can, helping get Crewe into the helicopter, with a shoulder to lean on.  Entirely too many people have been injured in the operation, a number that, while within anticipated parameters, still carries far to a high a price.  The defibrillator being applied to Lina makes the accounting all too clear.

And you would have sold her chances to take an Attar home. Guilt stabs at him.

Dacovetti acknowledges Seb's decisions with a crisp nod.  Before the operative disappears into the helicopter, Michael hands him the satchel of recovered tech and the GoPro from his helmet, dividing his footage and the technology he's found roughly in half.  If something happens to the helicopter, he's got some of the gear.  If the ground site gets nuked, there is a partial back up of the data captured in the operation available for analysis.  Redundant systems and off-site storage.  The captured plasma pistol remains in the custody of the airman. In the event of continued hostilities, he wants to retain the ability to put the hurt on alien forces.  Even if it is currently impossible for Michael to even understand how many shots remain in the weapon.

"We'll see you soon," he tell Seb before turning away from the helicopter reuniting with Choi and Omdahl.  "Should we secure the bodies before we get into a jurisdictional argument over the processing of alien life, or do we go assist in the re-aquisition of our prisoner?"  These realm, evidence and coordination with law enforcement is as much Michael's as the world of medical aid.  Internally chastised, he lets the others take the lead.
James Choi
player, 347 posts
Special Agt, FBI HRT
Raellus
Sat 8 Jul 2017
at 19:58
  • msg #324

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


The team is spread too thin. It's happened before and it's happening again, now.

"I don't know," James manages to say. His mouth is Libyan-desert-dry. The former field agent realizes that he probably sounds defeated, tries to cover. "That dude's not going anywhere," he continues, pointing to the 'Grey' impaled on a traffic sign, "...and he probably isn't going to tell us much. If I had to choose, I think the live Attar should be our first priority." No arguments there. Good. But it isn't that simple, or easy. "We've got to do something about the dead ones, though, and soon. Last thing we need is the press showing up and seeing that."

James tugs the balaclava's edge just underneath his almond-shaped eyes to below his chin, wipes the sweat from his face. His lungs gratefully fill with the warm, humid Miami air. The oppressive weight he feels pressing down lifts a few grams.

"I'll go wrangle the prisoner; you two cover those up?"

-
This message was last edited by the player at 23:19, Sat 15 July 2017.
Hannah Omdahl
player, 219 posts
CWO2, U.S. Army
dcoda
Sat 15 Jul 2017
at 23:14
  • msg #325

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Hannah took a deep breath, once she'd been pulled away by more professional hands from applying CPR to Dancer's prone body.  She stood back, partly in shock, partly letting the fatigue creep in.  Double Down watched pensively as the litters were loaded onto the helo, blowing an errant lock of hair from her face.  She wanted so much to be on that chopper... well, flying that chopper.  But duty called - and it wasn't her flying skills that were necessary at this time.

Called aside to give a sitrep, Double Down nodded and provided extremely clipped answers - primarily monosyllabic ones.  But, she was alert enough and helpful enough - at least as she could be.  It appeared that half the team was going to remain behind to head the recovery of artifacts and prisoners.  Which, Lizard King had the right of it, was really triage in this situation.  Containment.  They needed to remain calm, aware, and to make sure that nothing left the area.  She reset her ponytail to help calm her nerves and make sure that her hands weren't trembling (too much).

She nodded to James acknowledging her task of covering up the grey corpse.  With a glance towards Michael and a slight tilt of the head, she gave Dealer a wan smile as Hannah quipped, "No rest for the weary."  A glance at her watch, she noted idly, though with an undercurrent of insistence, "How are those radiation readings?  I am assuming that we need this perimeter cleared and secured."  Double Down retrieved her helmet and balaclava, while checking that her tactical sling and MP7 were firmly secured hands-free.

"We are going to need to set up a perimeter." she reiterated to James as she moved to deal with the exposed remains of the dwarf, casting about for anything from a blanket to body bag, "There are still plenty of potentially explosive materials in and around this building now.  Tablet?  Do we have a tablet?  Please give me good news..."  The latter was also on her throat mike, in the hopes that Foundation would respond in the affirmative concerning Amber Cell personnel and ETAs.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:16, Sat 15 July 2017.
Tegyrius
GM, 728 posts
Sun 16 Jul 2017
at 02:18
  • msg #326

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

As Blanchard cuts open Karolina's uniform top to attach the electrodes, Baudin leans away and hooks a headset from a net bag on the forward bulkhead.  Sébastien settles it on his head and relays Caradoc's instructions to the pilot.

Barbrak staggers up, guiding Caradoc under the rotor arc.  "Get him out too," he shouts to the DGSE operator as he pushes the semiconscious Welshman into the helicopter.  "That arm can't wait.  Shut up," he adds as Caradoc attempts to protest again.  The flight engineer reaches past Sébastien to grab an HK417 and bailout bag from beside the forward jumpseat, then dashes forward to flash a sequence of hand signals at the pilot.

"Roger that," the unseen pilot responds to Sebastien.  There's a pop as he switches to the radio, leaving the intercom in the circuit.  "Miami Approach, Landslide Three-Three, medevac flight, multiple trauma red patients.  Requesting direct to Ryder, Three-Three..."  The response isn't audible but the bird's tailwheel lifts a moment later.  "Ryder Control, Landslide Three-Three... Ryder, Three-Three, I am a Navy medevac flight inbound to your facility with three trauma red patients plus one trauma yellow.  ETA three minutes..."



As the Knighthawk lifts away from the highway and turns southeast, Bannon's voice crackles across the team's radios again.  "Guys, we're completely tapped out here.  I've got no other support to send you.  Ah... stand by for a patch from the boss."

A moment passes, then a flutter of static (all knowledgeable eyes go to Michael's instruments but it's natural atmospheric effects).  "All Empire, Foundation Actual," Group Captain Mewes says.  "I'm pulling White Cell off of stand-down to back you up.  They'll be wheels-up within the hour but that still puts them arriving around local noon.  In the meantime, we'll be working on getting you some support from Empire Three's old colleagues and JSOC.  Until that materializes," he pauses and exhales heavily, "Nemesis, Empire Two, you are authorized to fully brief your local associates.  As was the case in Melbourne, you should have enough physical evidence to make a convincing presentation.  Try to keep the compartment as small as possible but do what you need to do to maintain control of the situation."



Barbrak jogs up to Hannah and Michael, settling the sling of his H&K across his shoulder.  He lowers his flight helmet's visor against the spitting rain.  As he takes in the scene, his beard twitches.  "Holy shit, Miss Hannah."  He takes in the insect-eyed grey-skinned alien speared like a bug on a 55-mile-per-hour speed limit sign, a second one half-floating at the edge of the catchment basin, the debris trail of warehouse intermingled with alien airframe parts, and the rapidly-accreting clusters of local cops and FBI agents.  "Um.  We'd better go get that before a crocolisk eats it."  He swallows and pulls on a pair of leather rigger's gloves over the Nomex aviator's gloves he's already wearing.



As Hannah and Barbrak peel off toward the pond, Vidry tilts his head toward the impaled dwarf.  "I think I can reach it if I stand on the guardrail," he says dryly.  "But I'll let you do the explaining.  I am so very clearly not from around here."  The last is delivered in a painful Francophonic rendition of a rural Applachian accent.

With the French NCO's help, Michael manhandles the impaled dwarf down from its place of repose.  It's light even for its size, and even accounting for the damage James' earlier gunfire did to its chest cavity before its high-speed encounter with the Florida Department of Transportation's hardware.  Locked around its right forearm is a thick, complex bracer made of a dull bronze-colored metal.

When Michael looks up, he's ringed by rain-sodden cops.  They're wide-eyed, slack-jawed, varying shades of pale.  Several are still holding their weapons.  A couple of muzzles are twitching toward the alien corpse.  One of the officers swallows, then staggers away and vomits explosively into the median.



James catches up with Detective Salcedo, ASAC Murchinson, and Vidry's two triggermen - Jordan and Béranger - at the warehouse's front door.  Salcedo is angrily reloading her shotgun for emphasis as she continues her semi-coherent but heartfelt diatribe about the Attar's inhumanity.  Murchinson, purple-faced, pushes ahead, crunching over shattered glass as he passes through the office's damaged doors.

Inside the lobby, Agent Jackson huddles on a flimsy plastic chair, his eyes vacant.  One of his colleagues kneels beside him, checking him with gloved hands.  Agent Arnesen has returned to the corpse of the first Attar the team killed and squats beside it, staring intently.  Occasionally, he moves as if to touch it, then draws back his hand.

A fourth FBI agent stands rigidly over the surviving alien, her MP-5 pointed in its general direction.  The creature is kneeling beside the receptionist's desk, hands cuffed behind its back.  As James enters, it looks up, blank-faced as always.

Murchinson rounds on Salcedo.  "There," he spits.  "Our prisoner.  In federal custody.  Where he'll stay until I get some answers from DC," his gaze shifts to James, "about what the hell this whack-ass international counterterrorism task force is really doing.  Because that," he jabs a finger toward the handcuffed Attar, "and that," at the dead one, "are why I have an agent on a medevac flight and six more walking wounded.  Anything to add now, Agent Choi?"

Something glints at the corner of James' field of view.  The Attar shifts its position on the floor as if its knees pain it - which is probably the case, given the damage done to its limbs.  But the motion shifts its hands and wrists out of view behind the desk - not before James catches another glint of metal at its fingertips and a fresh bright-edged scar in the metal of the handcuffs.



The dwarf in the catchment basin floats face-down, its spindly limbs splayed out to display the stigmata that James' rifle hammered through its hands.  The FBI sniper team crouches a few meters away, guns trained on it.  They start at Hannah and Barbrak's approach.  "Hey," one says nervously.  "Hey.  What the fuck is that?"

Hannah and her Afghani accomplice splash into the mucky water.  It's knee-deep where the dwarf rests, and blood-warm.  Hannah's boots sink an inch into the muddy bottom with every step.  Her otherwise senses are quiet.  No aura of menace still oozes from the creature; no purple corona flickers in her vision when she scrutinizes its head.

She hauls it onto the bank and rolls it over.  Its face and chest are waxy and flat, distended with blunt trauma.  However far this thing has come to reach Earth, its journey is now over.



The Knighthawk settles onto the pad at Ryder Trauma Center.  Blanchard rolls out of the cargo compartment and sprints toward the waiting trauma teams.

"Stop CPR.  Don't touch patient.  Analyzing," the AED advises robotically.  "No shock advised.  Check pulse..."
Tegyrius
GM, 729 posts
Sun 16 Jul 2017
at 02:19
  • msg #327

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Millennium Durham
Durham, North Carolina
11 June 2015
0112 hrs local (0648 hrs Zulu)

Cooper Williams' eyes flicker open.  The luxury hotel room's ceiling is awash in flickering silver-blue light from the pool outside but that's not what pulled him out of sleep.  He reaches for his phone.  It's already in his hand when it rings.

"Williams."  The voice on the line is female, German-accented.  He places the speaker before she identifies herself.  "This is Sergeant Kohl, Amber Cell.  I'm afraid your work with Rhine is being suspended for the time being.  Grey Cell has a situation in Miami and we're moving all available personnel to support them.  We're arranging a charter flight for you now..."
Hannah Omdahl
player, 220 posts
CWO2, U.S. Army
dcoda
Sun 16 Jul 2017
at 07:45
  • msg #328

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Double Down clicked her teeth in accent to Mewes' order.  The big man got to make the call, which the Group Captain had made.  Hannah felt some relief that she wasn't point on this one.  Supposedly, Choi was.  But, that didn't mean she was completely off the hook.  Things were too dynamic.

"Не дерьмо!" the lithe army aviatrix commiserated with Barfight as they made their way down to the catchment basin.  Double Down might not know that much Russian, but like every other language that she'd learned since high school, the expletives always seemed to come first.  In her experience, the locals always took a shine to you best if you could ask for comfort food, the bathroom, and then pepper those requests with inappropriately interjected 'colorful idiomatic phrases' from their native language.  No matter how poorly accented.

Slipping down the culvert, Hannah reminisced for a moment, she'd trekked in worse weather conditions - having slogged through Green Platoon not so long ago (though it may have seemed like a lifetime at this point), though never to pull an extraterrestrial from the muck.  The SWAT boys were a nice touch to the surreal situation.  Their pensive confusion was completely understandable; mirrored by her own in many ways.  It was so ironic to her that they were looking to her for answers.  Her mind raced, thinking about potential responses.  Perhaps, she could go all E.T., This alien is not as wrinkly or friendly as E.T....  Or maybe Hannah could reference War of the Worlds, This alien is not as overtly aggressive as H.G. Wells' tripod martians....

Or she mix them together... "Well," the auburn-haired pilot started to answer thoughtfully, grunting as she pulled the gangly corpse from the slime.  Hannah had noted that her Afghani companion was conspicuously subservient, feigning 'foreignness' as an excuse to not respond to the local law enforcement's requests for more information. "Whatever it is, it's dead.  And it wasn't very friendly and didn't simply want to just 'phone home'." Double Down noted dryly, "But, it also isn't part of an overt invasion that is going to be defeated by the common cold..."  She motioned for the some helping hands and clammed up for the time being.  The rest of any sort of explanation would need to wait until they regrouped a bit.  There was no need to have it explained more than once; or to have competing stories from James and the FBI.

"Let's get this bad boy back to warehouse." Hannah half-suggested and half-ordered, adding for her own private edification, And out of sight.  "We can debrief further there, out of the rain." Hannah added.  Pushing on back towards the building, she her eyes darted along the circle of faces of the Special Weapons boys.  Double Down did a bit of misdirection, "Which one of you downed the 'drone' on the roof?  I want to thank him personally."  Which was entirely true.  It had been done well - and was one of the things that hadn't gone completely pear-shaped.

"And..." the remaining female in Grey Cell only added after a long pause, "We are going to need to know where that thing is.  Plus, your help to bring it in from the rain, as well..."
James Choi
player, 348 posts
Special Agt, FBI HRT
Raellus
Sun 16 Jul 2017
at 21:08
  • msg #329

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Tegyrius:
Murchinson rounds on Salcedo.  "There," he spits.  "Our prisoner.  In federal custody.  Where he'll stay until I get some answers from DC," his gaze shifts to James, "about what the hell this whack-ass international counterterrorism task force is really doing.  Because that," he jabs a finger toward the handcuffed Attar, "and that," at the dead one, "are why I have an agent on a medevac flight and six more walking wounded.  Anything to add now, Agent Choi?"


James isn't in the mood. His reserves of patience and diplomacy seem to have evaporated, sucked dry by the violent trauma of combat and loss.

"Saving the planet is a dangerous job, Murch."

James looks away from the ASAC, afraid he'll snap if the officious asshole throws even the slightest hint of shade his way. Instead, he makes brief eye contact with Salcedo. The look he gives her silently implores, Chill. Please.

He pulls a couple of zip ties from a loop on his tactical vest and turns to the cuffed Attar.

"Nice try buddy, but that's a big no-no" he admonishes the E.T., trying to twist the metal object out of the its alien grip before realizing his mistake. "Ah! You've got claws, eh? Cool." James inspects the metal cuffs- there's some scoring, but the creature still had a ways to go before cutting through the stainless steel (only the best for Grey Cell). "Can't blame you for trying, though. Suppose if I was in your shoes, I'd do the same thing." Regardless, James slips the heavy-duty zip ties around its wrists so that it can no longer wield its claws, pulling them tight, but not cruelly so. "Nice and snug. Comfy? Now, be good."

The anger's gone, James' humanity restored. Murchinson isn't going away, though. The man's still standing there, hands on hips, scowling. It's time to pull rank.

"This here is my prisoner, A-SAC Murchinson. I shot him, I caught him. Detective Salcedo is with me, so you'll treat her with respect."

This time, James makes eye contact, and holds it for a couple of uncomfortably long beats. His facial expression, his posture, the slow-burning light behind his brown eyes, all said, loud and clear, in chorus, "Don't fuck with me, bro. Not tonight." Point made (he hopes), James turns to Salcedo.

"Detective, let's get our foreign friend here up and outside. Our Uber'll be here any second."

-
This message was last edited by the player at 23:04, Sun 16 July 2017.
Tegyrius
GM, 730 posts
Sun 16 Jul 2017
at 22:48
  • msg #330

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

The metal object isn't in the alien's grip - it is the Attar's grip, or at least its fingers.  As James watches, inch-long metal blades silently retract into the alien's fingertips.  "It was worth the attempt," it says, tilting its face toward him.  "I would be appreciative if you didn't cut off my fingers now that you know."  Its voice is inflectionless, its English seemingly book-learned.  Unprotesting, it submits to the re-cuffing as James swaps in a fresh pair of cuffs and makes sure it can't get a - claw? - to bear on the metal again.
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:57, Sun 16 July 2017.
Cooper Williams
player, 96 posts
Petty Officer, RAN
Spartan-117
Tue 18 Jul 2017
at 13:00
  • msg #331

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Cooper studied the light from the water dance on the ceiling for a moment, enjoying the more unpredictable patterns that emerged as he took in what Sergeant Kohl was saying.

"Right.  Where do I need to be?" he asked.  With his ear and shoulder cradling the phone, he sat up and turned on the light.  For zero-one-something in the morning, he remarkably awake now.  Adrenaline he thought, as he started to gather up items around the room and toss them toward the bed.  This would be a fast packing job.  He'd send his shirts out for laundry at the other end.  Something told him that he'd need his tactical-wear, more so than his going-out shirts.
This message was lightly edited by the player at 13:01, Tue 18 July 2017.
Sebastien Durand
player, 429 posts
DGSE
Dave Ross
Tue 18 Jul 2017
at 14:29
  • msg #332

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Durand can see the figures waiting for them before the helo has touched down. The moment the wheels are on the tarmac things start happening, people start moving in a manner that suggests that they all know what they are doing, including Blanchard. Everyone has a reason to be on the helipad, a purpose, a role to play as they try to keep four people alive.

His rifle hanging from its tactical sling and his helmet cradled under his left arm, the Frenchman jumps down from the Knighthawk, ducks down reflexively as he moves out of the downwash of the rotors behind Blanchard. He wants to ask the medic what the fuck is happening, what the machine is really telling them, but she has a job to do as well, is in animated conversation with one of the trauma team, doesn’t need him getting him in the way.

They all have a job to do except Durand. What is unfolding before him is completely outwith his control, there is nothing that he can do to influence events. Shaking his head in frustration, the Frenchman steps away from Blanchard, cuts his way through the throng towards Crewe as the Welshman is helped down from the front of the helo, places one hand on the Welshman’s good shoulder, yells into his ear above the sound of the rotor blades. The rain is driving into his face.”Painter! Do you know what they’re doing with Dancer?”
Michael Dacovetti
player, 331 posts
Tech Sgt, JSOC JCU
keys138
Tue 18 Jul 2017
at 23:04
  • msg #333

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


"You are far more local to this vicinity than this gentleman," Michael says to Vidry with a nod towards the alien-on-a-stick.  The recovery goes well for the physical handling of extraterrestrial life.  Perhaps with conditions would be more difficult if a)Dacovetti hadn't already ended several alien lives with the judicious application of kinetic energy, b)they didn't need to act like consummate professionals, and c)the complete adrenaline dump from combat was starting to wear off and an already low emotional load was running near depleted.

The duo places the small body on the roadway, far enough away from the flares to make visual identification of the corpse at a distance difficult.  That doesn't exactly deter the non-insignificant numbers of blue and whites from eyeballing the creature.  Michael stands and rubs his hands wet hands on the soaked cotton blend of his BDUs.  This material, designed to shed at least some water, has given up the battle against the Florida rain.

"Okay," he says after clearing his voice.  In this moment, he's directly aware that most of his NCO time has been spent in by himself or in small groups running communications, not exactly overseeing teams of junior airman.  Reminding them of security clearances would be total nonsense.  He'll have to appeal to something else.  "Gentlemen, muzzle control please.  I understand that you wish to shoot the shit out of ET here," might as well admit what it is.  "But right now you are pointing weapons at me and my friend.  That makes us nervous.  Yes?"  After Vidry nods, Michael continues.  "Go ahead and take it in.  You know what this is.  You helped scare off his buddies.  Right now...right now you are where I was not that long ago and trying to deal with some very big changes in your world.  You are going to want to go home and tell your families.  You are going to want to tell everyone you know."  Michael sweeps the eyes of the cops gathered around him, pausing on each one.

"Please. Do. Not. Do. This." He lets silence sit for a moment.  "This is a very fluid situation and I believe the word panic just gets to the very edge of beginning to underestimate what the reaction would be.  You are professionals.  You know this.  You probably want to fight back, too.  Right now.  Well, this is what I need from you..."
Dacovetti lays it out: Grey Cell's SUV and one more SUV, corpses in the back, and then the FOD walk from hell, men and women in a line flashlights out walking the flight path of the spaceship, picking up the pieces that fell and trying not to miss anything.  Difficult in the daylight.  Next to impossible in the rain.

With tasks assigned, he'll move to his tool kit and under the cover and the hatchback door, try to make sure nothing is communicating off the bodies and tech that they have.  The GoPros get plugged into USB slots on the laptop and start dumping their raw feed into a heavily encrypted channel for the rest of the Task Force to view.  He's the team's tech specialist, so he does tech.
Tegyrius
GM, 732 posts
Sun 6 Aug 2017
at 17:49
  • msg #334

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Flamingo Park of Commerce
Miramar, Florida
11 June 2015
0548 hrs local (1048 hrs Zulu)

Pre-dawn Miami is a blaze of light.  The eastern sky is starting to glow over water calm in the wake of the overnight thunderstorm.  Corporate logos glare from the sides of skyscrapers.  In neighboring residential high-rises, individual windows flicker into life as Floridians awaken for another Thursday.  At street level, streetlights flicker out, replaced by neon signs heralding business as usual.

Beneath the MH-60S, business is decidedly unusual.  A tracery of red and blue strobes outlines the incident site's perimeter.  Traffic is already snarled around the closed expressway.  Many of the commuters in Miami's western suburbs apparently haven't bothered to check the news, haven't gotten the memo about roadblocks around a counter-terrorism raid involving black market drones and suspected chemical weapons.

The Knighthawk flares and settles across the expressway's westbound lanes, alighting on a slightly crooked "H" that someone has helpfully laid out in orange spray paint.  The crew chief, a bearded troll whose English has a suspiciously Afghani accent, slings his HK417 and gestures for Cooper Williams and the other passengers to follow him.

The command post is about a hundred yards away, a cluster of emergency vehicles and unmarked SUVs around a large olive drab canvas tent that looks like this is its first deployment since it was warehoused at the end of the Vietnam War.  Downslope and beyond it, the warehouse/office park is abustle.  A larger tent is going up in a parking lot under the harsh glare of portable light towers.

The eight AFSOC personnel following Cooper peel off upon sighting someone who's presumably one of their officers.  The Afghani continues toward the command post, past a HMMWV ambulance surrounded by a ring of whatever the US Air Force is calling its security personnel this season.  Cooper notes in passing that they're facing inward.

The tent's interior smells like the outside looks, leavened only slightly by takeout coffee.  Ted Bannon turns from a dry-erase board, fistbumps the Afghani, and offers his hand to Cooper.  "PO.  Good to see you again.  I'm gonna assume you got caught up on the early reports and GoPro footage on the way down here."  He turns to the crew chief.  "Barbrak, tell Waters you guys can head back to base and shut down.  We're not expecting anyone else who can't come in or go out by ground for a while.

"So yeah.  Fuck, where's my coffee?"  He searches for a moment, gives up, pours a fresh cup, and turns back to Cooper.  "SITREP: We've got two dead space dwarves and three dead Attars on ice.  Funny, they were working out of a refrigerated warehouse, so we're good there.  We've got a bunch of Air Force dudes out in the grass and the water, looking for pieces of spaceship that the cops missed and trying to see what effect the alien hazmat is having on the gators.  Most of the big stuff is already collected and we're gonna truck it out after it gets dark again."  He points in the HMMWV's general direction.  "And the team managed to take an Attar alive by shooting it in all four limbs.  It's out there 'cause no one can agree on where to put it.  I finally got the FBI to fuck off but then someone over at the federal building said 'alien' and ICE though they said 'illegal alien' and showed up," he misquotes sourly.

"The casualty count is three cops in the hospital, one critical.  Two feds in the hospital, one dead.  Another handful of psych cases who flipped their shit when E.T. showed up.  And Kowalska and Crewe.  Some of the team is over at Ryder with them.  I need you to link up with the folks who are still here and do what you guys do.  Make sure the alien shit is inventoried and safe to move, keep anyone from walking off with a souvenir, and figure out what the fuck to do about the prisoner."  He slams the rest of the coffee and grimaces, then lowers his voice and leans in.  "And it'd be awesome if you could keep an eye out for any Psychic Friends Network bullshit in case we missed a dwarf.

"Any questions?"



Ryder Trauma Center
University of Miami/Jackson Memorial Medical Center
Miami, Florida

Pre-dawn Miami is a blaze of light.  The eastern sky is starting to glow over water calm in the wake of the overnight thunderstorm.  Corporate logos glare from the sides of skyscrapers.  In neighboring residential high-rises, individual windows flicker into life as Floridians awaken for another Thursday.  At street level, streetlights flicker out, replaced by neon signs heralding business as usual.

Caradoc Crewe's hospital room faces south, overlooking the red-and-white asphalt rivers of the I-95/I-395 interchange and, beyond it, the unassuming dark strip of the Miami River.  The Welshman remains unconscious, his right arm immobilized from wrist to shoulder.  There will be more surgeries, and rehabilitation, and, eventually, either a return to an approximation of normal or a redefinition of the term.

Someone knocks at the door.  It's more authoritative than the tentative taps of the nurses, obviously afraid to startle the heavily-armed apex predators clustered defensively around one of their own pack.  After a moment, it swings open to admit a heavyset, middle-aged African-American man in faded scrubs.  He sweeps his gaze around the room before settling on Sébastien Durand as the face he recognizes from a brief encounter several hours earlier.

"Felix Dufour," he introduces himself.  "I'm the lead neurosurgeon here.

He closes the door and leans against it - supporting himself, not forbidding exit.  "Captain Kowalska is stable.  Critical, but stable.  We've removed the bone fragments that were the greatest problems and relieved the pressure on her brain.  The vascular surgery team is working on her arm now but that's fairly straightforward.  There is some additional work necessary for her leg, collarbone, and ribs, but we're holding off on that until we can assess her status.  Unfortunately," he flips a hand and his lips tighten, "it's mostly up to her at this point."

As Dr. Dufour finishes his brief, Sébastien's phone vibrates with a text.  It's a Paris number that it takes him a moment to recognize: Capitaine de Frégate Joachim Maçon.  Belize reconnaissance report is in.  Call when you can.
Cooper Williams
player, 97 posts
Petty Officer, RAN
Spartan-117
Mon 7 Aug 2017
at 12:27
  • msg #335

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

”Not exactly a bog standard firefight with those shonky bastards skulking about in the ceiling, was it?” Williams said, confirming that he’d seen the GoPro video on the flight in.

When Bannon rattle off the list of dead and injured, Cooper’s face twisted halfway between a scowl and grimace as he listened to SITREP.  Given that they were dealing with an advanced extra terrestrial species who in theory could easily exploit their control of the ultimate high ground - space - single digits were the best case scenario.  Still, losing people was never easy.

”No questions, Chief,” Williams said after the Intelligence Section head finished.  ”It will get done.”

Taking his leave from Bannon, Cooper made his way over to the scene of the firefight.  He walked through the building slowly and purposefully, letting his eyes take in the scene as his mind processed the firefight he'd seen.  Once done, he made his way outside, circling the building and it's accompanying area at an easy pace before making a b-line toward the first chunks of debris.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:04, Mon 07 Aug 2017.
Sebastien Durand
player, 430 posts
DGSE
Dave Ross
Mon 7 Aug 2017
at 20:08
  • msg #336

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

"Thank you." Sébastien Durand nods when Dufour has completed his summary. The Frenchman's voice is low, the words sincere. He knew that Dufour and his team would have done all that they could, as would the team that had worked on Crewe.

The Frenchman's eyes show signs of his tiredness. The adrenaline rush of combat has gradually dissipated, ebbed out of his system, given way to fatigue. Perhaps some stress as well. Durand has over twenty years experience, first in the French military, then DGSE, has fought in a number of wars, but never one like this, where the enemy are from another World. This is a whole different level, one that he is not sure he'll ever fully get his head around. At least they do not appear to have any energy shields or any other shit from a Hollywood movie. Vullets killed them. Durand wasn't sure how many he had taken down. Not enough.

His rifle is still slung over his back, barrel pointing towards the floor. The presence of a number of wounded cops and FBI agents in nearby rooms may mean that the floor is swarming with law enforcement personnel wearing everything from multicam to blue windbreakers emblazoned with the letters of whatever Agency they worked for , but Durand isn't taking any chances. The only easing of his posture is the fact that his helmet is off, rests on a table next to a jug of water, upside down, his balaclava and gloves inside it.

After Dufour has made his exit the Frenchman looks at his phone, quickly reads the text from Maçon in Paris. With everything that had been happening he had almost forgotten about Belize, and the overflight by the Dutch that had been arranged. That could wait another few minutes though. First the Frenchman has a text of his own to send to the members of his team not present. It only takes a few moments, even if Dealer - or any teenaged kid - would probably have been amused at the way that he typed with one finger. Dancer critical but stable. Will update when able. Bullfrog. As he sends the text it occurs to him that he doesn't really know anything about the Polish woman, doesn't know if she has family. Presumably Mewse would be on top of that.

The DGSE operator then turns his attention to the text received from la piscine, DGSE headquarters in Paris' 20th Arrondissement. "Can you give us the room?" he murmurs to the non Grey Cell personnel present, waits until the room is clear before he dials the number. "Ici Durand." he says when the call is answered at the other end. Durand here.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:34, Mon 07 Aug 2017.
James Choi
player, 349 posts
Special Agt, FBI HRT
Raellus
Sat 12 Aug 2017
at 23:35
  • msg #337

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


"So," James says to the Attar, "were going to have a doctor take a look at your wounds. It was kind of hard to find an extraterrestrial medicine specialist at this hour, so you'll have to pardon the wait."

Do these things have a sense of humor? James wonders. If so, he can't tell. The E.T.'s giving him nothing. It just lies there, staring at the olive drab roof. Perhaps its language skills aren't up to detecting irony. Maybe, James has to admit to himself, he's just not that funny.

"It would help us, and you, if you could give us some pointers on your non-human physiology. Do you understand?"

The Attar nods almost imperceptibly, slack human mask impassive. So, it's got a basic mastery of human non-verbal communication.

James sits on one side of the Humvee ambulance, custom Colt in his hand, resting on his black-clad right thigh. Its not meant to be threatening. But, if the alien has retractable metal claws, it might harbor other nasty surprises. The supine Attar, still cuffed, is strapped down to a stretcher on the bench opposite, head toward the cab. James is sweating under his layers of tactical battle rattle. The Humvee's AC is blowing full blast, but the vehicle currently immobile, the effect is negligible.

"Now, while we wait, I don't suppose you want to tell me what you're doing here, on this planet. I mean you and your... people."

-
This message was last edited by the player at 23:39, Sat 12 Aug 2017.
Tegyrius
GM, 735 posts
Sun 13 Aug 2017
at 00:26
  • msg #338

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

"It's Maçon," comes the reply, tinged with tired, dry humor.  "Let me guess.  The thing in Miami: your operation?  No, don't tell me."  In an office in Paris, a hand rises in a wait gesture.  "I think there are some details I am better off not knowing now.

"There was a night SAR training flight last night.  A CN-235 crew was over the Caribbean.  A very long flight - possibly someone offended the squadron commander, to be sent on such a mission."  The shrug is almost audible.  "There was some small matter of paperwork not filed until the last minute, but they received permission to refuel in Belize City.  They're on the ground there now.  I'm sending you the imagery they shot on their way in.

"The island is unchanged from the commercial imagery.  Manor house, three Second World War outbuildings.  Two boats and a seaplane at the dock.  But thermal showed six well-built fighting positions.  Only a light watch - two positions manned, and another man and dog walking patrol.  Rifles, with some indication that the fighting pits can accept heavy weapons.  Thermal also suggests there's a buried structure under the outbuildings.

"The aircrew is off duty but they can give you a daytime pass in three more hours."



The Attar turns its head toward James.  "Any physician who would understand me is probably retired or senile at this point," it states in generic Midwestern English.  Its blank face could be irony to match James' own or an emotionless delivery of fact.  "And we've made a lot of progress in the surgery and implants in the last," an almost-imperceptible pause, "half-century.  We're as much engineered as born now.  Though if you have any, your citrus is a good pain reliever."

It frowns.  The movement seems rehearsed - or practiced, as if in a journeyman class on human nonverbals.  "My ability to answer your other question is limited."  The restraints halt a gesture that may be more natural, and its face flickers.  "There are... this is hard to verbalize.  I have to be oblique.  Your scientists would not be able to identify or even find these limits.  Do you understand?"  Its eyes roll up briefly, as if glancing toward something above its head, before returning to James' face.
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:27, Sun 13 Aug 2017.
Michael Dacovetti
player, 332 posts
Tech Sgt, JSOC JCU
keys138
Sun 13 Aug 2017
at 18:54
  • msg #339

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

"'Is anything radioactive?'" Dacovetti snaps at one of the open laptops on his appropriated work table.  A series of four faces are peering back at him from half the screen.  The other half is showing a series of typed observations and data points.  He's reasonably well acquainted with two of the faces, two of the Green Cell science types attached to the task force.  Other two faces are his ex and the Aussie, Dr. Ghosten and Crit.  "I just want to clarify.  Your question is 'Is anything radioactive.'"  Michael doesn't wait for an answer.  He sweeps the table with his arms, showing the collection of geiger counters, spectrum analyzers, and assorted camera, microscopes, and other doodads of esoteric electronic arts.  "Yes.  The answer to your inquiry is yes.  Something is radioactive.  Me.  Do I look fucking new?  That was the first thing I verified."

"You are radioactive." Jeannette Ghosten repeats the statement with a bit of alarm.  "How much?"

"Twenty five x-rays?" Dacovetti shrugs then steps back and rubs his eyes.  It's not enough to make him worry about much more than his current sperm count.  With a baby on the way, that's kind of an insignificant input.  A geometric stack of coffee cups is balanced between his two computers, the fuel his body is consuming in the increasingly difficult task of thinking clearly and analyzing all the debris that are being deposited on the ever growing collection of folding metal table stretching off to his left and right.  Right for the prescan, left for the post.  Too further complicate his efforts, the airman's eyes keep darting back to the other laptop, the one listening for the Wildwood Grouse signal that implies impending doom from high elevations.  "Apparently, narrowly avoiding applied energy annihilation leaves a radioactive splash.  Good to know.  Maybe our satellites can be tasked to look for the neccessary signal trace.  If, if, if."

The glucose levels necessary for proper brain function running perilously low, Michael reaches out and takes a Clif Bar from the table and tears it open with his teeth to avoid touching anything with his hands.  There are risks and there are risk profiles.  He judges holding food to be okay, touching it a no-no.  He feels like a target sitting hear in the industrial park.  Many years ago, working with Specter gunships, he'd had the unsettling conversation with a sensor operator that was able to describe his location and actions in full detail from several miles and several thousand feet of airspace away.

"I hope they get this jurisdiction situation sorted," he tells the computers.  "Otherwise I'm going to be forced to consider the Buddy Mac Strategies of Army Management."

"Dare I ask?" Crit's faces asks.

Buddy MacArthur had been one of Michael's instructors way back in the day at Hurlburt Field, back on the Florida Gulf Coast for TACP tech school.  He'd had advice in how to deal with the normally obstructionary Army chain of command.  "Sure.  Strategy one, never ask a question that has an answer you don't want to hear.  The cousin of it is better to beg forgiveness than ask permission.  Strategy two, they can't tell you to change course if you're not there."

"You want to take the bodies and the tech and run."  Jeanette sums up.

"You are correct."  Michael sighs.  "We can get to work somewhere that doesn't feel like we're waiting to die."

"Have you talked to Bannon?"  Crit asks.

"That would be asking permission now, wouldn't it."

"Well, yeah."

Another Air Force spec ops guy arrives, this one brandishing all of the uniform accouterments of a Combat Controller, the TACP arch nemesis.  The man is carrying a cylinder two or three feet long with an articulating joint in the middle.  Some sort of ochre fluid is leaking out of one end.  Michael is absurdly glad he's in a sterile uniform, not ready to engage in a little bit of who is better at controlling air strikes better by-play.  "You tech?"

"Clearly," Michael says. His hand is vibrating from caffeine and nor-adrenaline.

The CCT doesn't rise to the bait, either to professional or warned away by the look in Michael's eyes.  "Where do you want this shit?"

In a van on the way to Homestead.  "Table on the right," he sighs instead.  "Thanks."
James Choi
player, 351 posts
Special Agt, FBI HRT
Raellus
Tue 15 Aug 2017
at 00:47
  • msg #340

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Tegyrius:
The Attar turns its head toward James.  "Any physician who would understand me is probably retired or senile at this point," it states in generic Midwestern English.  Its blank face could be irony to match James' own or an emotionless delivery of fact.  "And we've made a lot of progress in the surgery and implants in the last," an almost-imperceptible pause, "half-century.  We're as much engineered as born now.  Though if you have any, your citrus is a good pain reliever."


"Citrus, eh? I guess if you had to get yourself shot full of holes, you picked the right place to do it."

James wonders if he just violated OPSEC. It seems unlikely, though, that the 'visitors'' main agenda on earth is to plunder its supply of tasty, all-natural analgesics. He compensates for the slip by neglecting to mention his first-hand alien autopsy experience. You'd be surprised, buddy.

He opens the ambulance door and makes eye contact with one of the armed airmen encircling the vehicle.

"I need two tall O.J.s, preferably organic, stat!"

That sounded authoritative enough, didn't it?

He shuts the door and hopes that he's not about to provide the alien with the equivalent of napalm.

Tegyrius:
It frowns.  The movement seems rehearsed - or practiced, as if in a journeyman class on human nonverbals.  "My ability to answer your other question is limited."  The restraints halt a gesture that may be more natural, and its face flickers.  "There are... this is hard to verbalize.  I have to be oblique.  Your scientists would not be able to identify or even find these limits.  Do you understand?"  Its eyes roll up briefly, as if glancing toward something above its head, before returning to James' face.


James didn't, not really. All he's got is a hunch; he follows it.

"You mean you can't say, as opposed to won't." he says, hoping the creature can recognize the semantic distinction. To clarify, James adds, "Someone is listening in on us... psychically?"

Dancer is- was?- Grey Cell's de facto expert on telepathy, or whatever these things were using to communicate sub-sonically. James is just grasping at straws.

-
This message was last edited by the player at 01:42, Tue 15 Aug 2017.
Tegyrius
GM, 739 posts
Tue 15 Aug 2017
at 01:19
  • msg #341

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

The alien's gaze turns inward for a moment.  "Not listening," it says.  Then, slowly, as if tasting the word: "Can't."
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:53, Tue 15 Aug 2017.
Sebastien Durand
player, 432 posts
DGSE
Dave Ross
Tue 15 Aug 2017
at 12:14
  • msg #342

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Despite the circumstances Durand's lips curled into a grin as he heard the pause on the line, could almost picture the Gallic shrug as his erstwhile boss relayed the results of the Dutch recce flight. So it seemed that the island was indeed another piece in the puzzle of what was going on here. And was protected by armed men, at a level that appeared to be well in excess of what might reasonably be required.

And then there was the question of what might lie underneath the outbuildings. Some sort of concealed base of operations? Another space ship? Durand shook his head. A year ago if anyone had suggested to him that there might be an alien spaceship buried on a Caribbean island he would have laughed out loud, thought that they were crazy. And now he was thinking that.

"Thanks, Sir." the DGSE operator replied when Maçon had stopped talking. There was a brief pause as he considered the different options. A second overflight might provide them with more intelligence but it might also alert whoever was on the island that they were being watched, particularly if they had raised their state of alert after the events that had taken place overnight. ”Let’s hold off on the daytime pass for now I think. Too much risk that we might alert them that we know about that site.”

Ending the call with Maçon, Durand stabbed one of the speedial options on his phone, stood against the wall while he waited for it to be picked up at the other end, a black clad wraith, one that was out of place in a hospital. ”Nemesis, it’s Bullfrog.” he identified himself when Bannon came on the line, kept his report short. A more detailed briefing could com when they were all back in the same place. ”We have another target. And we should probably move fast, before the other side put the pieces together about what has happened this morning." If they hadn’t already of course. "Do you want me to bring Vest up to speed?”
Hannah Omdahl
player, 221 posts
CWO2, U.S. Army
dcoda
Wed 16 Aug 2017
at 22:17
  • msg #343

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Hannah stood on the roof surveying the area for a moment.  She'd spent the past couple of hours scouring it to ensure that there was nothing left to spot from the air.  Even with a no-fly zone, all it took was some yokel with a telephoto lens to get a grainy picture of lord-knows-what.

She felt tired, having pushed herself both physically and mentally for a while now.  Blowing an errant lock of hair from her face, the young army aviatrix had to walk gingerly given the compromised state of building.  Double Down would have preferred not to be up on the roof - especially near the ragged, gaping maw of a hole where Dancer had been snatched up along with the rent concrete and other detris.  And then unceremoniously dropped to the cold, hard pavement far below.

Double Down felt a chill down her spine.  And it wasn't just from the chill early morning breeze.  She sniffed the crisp air for a moment - more for effect that anything else - and the pointed to another spot just beyond one of the still intact HVAC units.  Hannah could feel the purple energy pulsing and grating on her peripheral vision.  A tiny scratch or prickling.  Just the lightest touch.  She had to let her consciousness drift outwards, meander a bit without too much focus.  But Hannah couldn't let it wander too much, but just enough to let something else creep in and do the heavy lifting.

At first, the men aiding her had been more than a touch skeptical.  Hell, she'd been wary as well about any information that she was 'sensing.'  But, eventually, everyone settled into a routine.

Honestly, she'd rather be flying.  To the hospital.  Over Belize.  Even over the Arghandab in Kandahar at this point.  But, that wasn't really an option.

The men in their Tyvek™ and Mylar™ suits pulled the pieces lodged in the thermal insulation out with industrial-sized tweezers and bagged the shrapnel.  But only after photographs and various spectral readings were taken.  Double Down wasn't fully suited up.  She still had her tactical webbing on.  Whatever residual exposure to cosmic rays that might happening was far less than the suntan she got from direct exposure to the interior of that damned tractor beam and alien craft.  Plus, she'd been shot at by plasma ray wielding aliens already.  And she had the psychic scars and dreams to prove it.

"There's one more..." the auburn-haired pilot noted distantly, pointing to something lodged back behind a crevice in the sheet metal housing, "Make sure we catalog the exact placement and radiation readings..."  That piece seemed especially bright for some reason; and Dealer would want the info.  She was pretty sure of that.
Cooper Williams
player, 100 posts
Petty Officer, RAN
Spartan-117
Thu 17 Aug 2017
at 16:55
  • msg #344

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Cooper paused briefly between his movements, taking deep breaths and using a Buddhists meditation technique he had learned just outside of Kandy, in Sri Lanka.  His breathing was effortlessly measured, eyes drifting between closed and heavily lidded.  Cooper's face was as serene as that of the visage of Jayavarman VII of the Temple of Angkor Thom in Cambodia.

It was in such contemplative nullness that Coop had achieved the most progress in his time at the Rhine Research Center.  Doctor Gellner had strongly encouraged Williams to tap into his prior Eastern experiences and studies.  The Professor of Linguistics and Parapsychology cracked just the slightest smile when he learned that Cooper had studied and was able to read the I Ching and the other Chinese classics.  For Gellner, such countenance was as close go giddiness as the Israeli-American might ever come.

After taking in nothingness for an uncounted number of breaths, Cooper shifted his mindfulness to the hear and now.  It was time to shift positions and try again.  This time he'd follow the debris trail away from the office park.
Tegyrius
GM, 742 posts
Sat 19 Aug 2017
at 21:45
  • msg #345

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Homestead Air Reserve Base
Homestead, Florida
11 June 2015
1726 hrs local (2248 hrs Zulu)

The sun-bleached ramp outside the hangar groans under the full weight of Task Force 47.  The Gulfstream and Knighthawk have been joined by a pair of German A400Ms.  The heavy transports' wings shade a small squadron of unmarked passenger vehicles forested with antennas.

Inside, Group Captain Grant Mewes stands in quiet conversation with a sweating, green-faced Commander Stephen Vest.  His backdrop is a charcoal grey Mi-24V, undergoing arming and fueling at the hands of Barbrak Tarabi and his technical crew.  It's an unsubtle reminder to some of his audience of TF47's global and somewhat-extralegal remit.

The audience in question is... varied.  To the right, a depleted Grey Cell, somewhat more functional after a forcefully-ordered eight-hour stand-down.  Behind them, White Cell, scabs fresh from its own loss in May, leans forward in silent support, backed by the task force's full contingent of French air commandos.

CWO3 Bannon and his intelligence and support staff occupy the center seats.  Their mood is tense and restless.  Uncharacteristically, they're universally armed.  They form a protective, almost proprietary, bubble around Darnell Hawkins and Robert Paddon.

On the left, the task force's local partners segregate themselves by agency.  The FBI occupies the front row, stone-faced, arms folded, defensive at not being the alpha predators in the room.  Behind them, Adriana Salcedo casts an apologetic glance toward James Choi as she takes her seat with the other local cops.  In the back, a quartet of AFSOC personnel quietly brings a couple of Ranger Regiment officers up to speed.

Mewes turns and Vest steps back a pace.  The hangar falls silent save for the clatter of 12.7mm rounds being fed into the ammo bin of the Hind's Yak-B.

"Good evening."  Mewes nods tersely.  "For those of you who I haven't met, I'm Group Commander Grant Mewes, RAF.  I am the commanding officer of NATO Task Force 47.  Before we proceed, please allow me to extend my deepest regrets to the colleagues and family of Special Agent Jason DeLuca.  I'd like you to join me in a moment of silence."  He bows his head and inhales deeply as Barbrak's crew pauses in their task.

"Now. The task force has primary jurisdiction for this operation under the 1961 annex to Article Three of the North Atlantic Treaty and, within and under United States airspace, by National Security Council Intelligence Directive 6110."  His eyes flicker toward the FBI contingent.  "All material in this briefing is classified as code word OSSUARY GROVE, as is the existence of the documents I just cited.  Given the nature of this material, penalties for unauthorized disclosure may far exceed those normally prescribed by law.

"To summarize and clarify, Task Force 47's mission is to gather intelligence on, and perform direct action against, an extraterrestrial presence that is operating on our world in conjunction with numerous terrorist and criminal organizations.  Early this month, we became aware of possible extraterrestrial activity in Florida targeting former members of Observation Squadron 54, a U.S. Navy research and flight test squadron that was engaged in reverse-engineering captured extraterrestrial craft between 1956 and 1964.  The subsequent events of which you are now aware stemmed from our operation to identify and interdict these attacks."  He nods to Paddon and Hawkins.

"Our present status is as follows.  Recovery of extraterrestrial artifacts and spacecraft debris from the Miramar site was completed at 1530 hours local.  All recovered material is now en route to Europe aboard a U.S. Air Force transport with heavy fighter escort.  The primary objective of this movement is to begin artifact analysis at appropriate laboratory facilities.  The secondary objective is to provide sufficient force to overmatch any extraterrestrial attack during transit.

"Additionally, Task Force 47 captured one living extraterrestrial.  That specimen is currently being prepared for transport.  Special Agent Choi led a preliminary interrogation.  I'll ask his team to brief out on that momentarily.

"Finally, through interviews with Observation Squadron 54 survivors and parallel research, we've identified two additional sites of interest.  The first is a small privately-owned island off the coast of Belize.  This site and several attached assets have been owned by a former flight officer in VO54 since 1964.  It is surprisingly well-fortified for its size.  Financial records suggest a permanent population of approximately forty with a high consumption rate of medical supplies.  There is are no current indicators of extraterrestrial activity."

"The second site of interest is a storage complex at Naval Weapons Center China Lake.  This is the last known location of all material and records from VO54.  However, there have been some recent status changes with regards to this site.  I'll turn this portion of the briefing over to Commander Vest.  Commander."

Vest swallows hard and steps forward.  "Hello.  I'm Commander Stephen Vest with the Office of Naval Intelligence.  I'm the execu-- excuse me, I'm now acting commander of the Policy Liaison Group.  We're the U.S. Navy intelligence component charged with monitoring current alien activity on Earth and maintaining security for Navy personnel who were involved in contact or research during the last period of incursions.

"It also appears that we're compromised.

"Due to a high number of coincidences over the last few days of operations, we began to suspect that the aliens had a source close to the task force.  Chief Bannon, Captain Kowalska, and I arranged a smoke test.  Every reporting chain tied to the task force received different status reports yesterday.

"When I reported the China Lake connection to my group's commander, he sent most of our office out there to investigate.  That team arrived a few hours ago.  They're reporting that another group arrived last night and cleaned out whatever was left in the storage site.  No one knows who that group was... and no one's heard from our commander since he cut those orders."

Mewes nods curtly and Vest gratefully relinquishes his position, sinking into an isolated seat on the front row.  "Thank you, Commander.  In light of this development, this operation has conflicting immediate priorities, which we'll attempt to resolve immediately.  First, though, we have some new insight into our adversaries.  Special Agent Choi, Chief Omdahl, Petty Officer Williams: you have the floor."
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:47, Sat 19 Aug 2017.
Michael Dacovetti
player, 336 posts
Tech Sgt, JSOC JCU
keys138
Tue 22 Aug 2017
at 02:35
  • msg #346

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Earlier

Dacovetti has the basic appearance of being human once again, synapses approximating normal operating function at a level he rates somewhere around 75% of optimal.  In a decade and a half of military service, worse operational levels have yielded successful conditions so while not ideal, he's not going to complain as simply medicate with Red Bull.  Drink now.  Pay later.

The airman is leaning on a table in front of his Grey Cell teammates, the ones not in a trauma center, holding a small metal circlet maybe three quarters of an inch thick and slightly larger around than a human neck.  One side holds a clasp made out of a metal alloy that all the tech in the room hasn't been able to identify.  A tungsten ring leads away from the clasp around both sides of the circle to a hinge and a box about the size of two match books.

"Get on with it, Dealer," Bannon croaks.  The malice in his voice is probably for show.  Probably.  "The op brief kicks off in twenty."

"I'm aware, thank you," Dacovetti returns a little more sharply that he intends.  Let's call it 70% of optimal.  The object goes into his left hand while the right grabs a half full can of Red Bull that he consumes without relish further spending his future suffering bank.  "This is important.  Seb and I located something in the wreckage.  This ring."

The airman pauses, eyes rising to take in the others, maybe waiting to see if anyone will chime in to ask what it is, take the obvious question.  The expressions he sees indicate that everyone present knows that he's going to explain and aren't willing to waste the time or energy to bite.  "At first I assumed it was a power-couple or something similar.  It didn't respond to any of the initial tests I ran.  Except, well except for the a slight uptick I noticed on the spectrum analyzer when Cooper got on scene.  That resulted in a deep-dive down the the BRONZE FREESTYLE well.  The little psychic bastards."

Michael takes another sip, utilizing the pause to make sure everyone is following him. "I managed to open up the hinge mechanism.  The circuit design is almost organic, several of the connections damaged, either from falling or from close contact with the energy weapon the spacecraft deployed.  The source is inconclusive when I can't even identify how the system is built.  Best hypothesis is that this was some sort of booster for psychic energy.  Don't get overly excited because it's not that now.  Now it's...well..."

The can goes down and Michael opens the hinge placing the circle around his neck before snapping it shut.  As it closes, his mind disappears from the sensitives in the room.  A background hum that they might not have even noticed suddenly goes still.  "I'm gone, correct?"  Michael asks, rhetorically.  "This used to boost a psychic signal.  Now it blocks one.  To a point, I believe.  I pinged the system a few times with a blank signal along the same spectrum we think the BRONZE guys utilize for their offensive capabilities.  The necklace experienced some significant thermal growth.  It's probable that the system could be overwhelmed, possibly turning on the user."

Durand looks at Dealer, the implication of what the airman had just said written on his face. "So what you're saying, Mike, is that we might be able to block that thing's signal. But there is also a chance that we could end up frying the mind of the person that they've taken over?"

"You are correct Seb.  It has a pronounced downside, but we have psychic ECM."
James Choi
player, 357 posts
Special Agt, FBI HRT
Raellus
Wed 30 Aug 2017
at 01:13
  • msg #347

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


"Thanks, Group Captain Mewes,"James begins, rising from his seat to face the motley crew.

"Myself and agents Omdahl and Cooper have spoken with the alien prisoner at length. It was surprisingly chatty."

James quickly surveys the room. Poker faces all around. The seasoned interrogator is having trouble reading his audience. Are they dumbstruck by Mewes' revelations- a powerful dose of cognitive dissonance- or is this old fashioned skepticism? Maybe they're just as dog tired as he is. Perhaps a little levity is in order, to break the ice.

"We've learned a few things about our guests. First off, they frickin' love orange juice."

Nothing. Not so much as a flicker of a smile.

"Seriously. For them, citric acid acts as a powerful pain-reliever. Agent Omdahl will brief you on what we've learned about their physiology."

This would be easier if they were heckling me, James muses.

"According to our prisoner, the E.T.'s current operational cycle began in 2008, although they've been active here- on earth- before, most notably from the early 1940s through about 1979. It couldn't tell us why they weren't active between '79 and '08. We've identified at least three species of extraterrestrials currently operating here. Our prisoner- we're calling his type 'Attar'- is the alien equivalent of a deep cover agent. Their ops are compartmentalized, so its knowledge of alien strategy, technology, space travel, and other big-picture stuff is limited, at best. In addition, the Attars seem to have been conditioned against oversharing, with a sort of psychic kill-switch, if you will. Agent Cooper will have more on the E.T.s psionic capabilities.

"The Attars are capable of mimicking human beings with a high degree of verisimilitude. In addition to its convincing Midwest American English, our subject can speak Cuban Spanish and Muscovite Russian fluently. It's also proficient in non-verbal communication, although that doesn't seem to come as easy. In conversation, the Attars come off as somewhat socially awkward- like an adult with Asperger's syndrome."

James is met with looks of incomprehension from about half the audience.

"Asperger's is a form of high-functioning autism. If Rain Man is a nine on the autism scale, our Attar is at a one or a two.

"The human mimic variants, of which the Attar is one, are surgically engineered in batches. We've identified three templates, so far. We first encountered the Attar model in Libya. Their resemblance to humans is really just skin-deep. Beneath the surface, they are very alien."

Desperate for one of his teammates to jump in and save him from this tough crowd, James signals Cooper and/or Omdahl to step in take over the briefing. The former FBI special agent remains standing, preparing to field the questions he's sure are coming.

-
This message was last edited by the player at 23:18, Wed 30 Aug 2017.
Cooper Williams
player, 103 posts
Petty Officer, RAN
Spartan-117
Wed 30 Aug 2017
at 15:32
  • msg #348

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

”G’day, I’m Petty Officer Williams, Royal Australian Navy.  Much like you mob, I was rudely awakened to the existence of this threat when Task Force Four Seven showed up in my back yard a few months ago.”  Cooper’s delivery was direct, his face serious and stern.

”Thanks to the professionalism and skill of this NATO unit, we were able to contain and disrupt the extra-terrestrials plans.  During those operations, we discovered that two Australian Security Intelligence Organization Agents had been forcibly compromised by an Extraterrestrial Biological Entity that are listed in your dossier’s under the code word BRONZE FREESTYLE.”

Williams sighed slightly before continuing.  He wasn’t exactly sure how to broach the nature of the compromise.

”When I say compromised, based on the evidence the Task Force has collected to date, it appears some sort of telepathic attack was used against the Agents.  This is effectively a form of mind control and it’s this capability that BRONZE FREESTYLE EBEs… I’m just going to call them Blue Falcons from here on, because that rolls of the tongue easier.  It’s this Blue Falcon capability that keeps these Attar blokes in line.”  Coops briefing was quickly shifting between a formal to an informal style as stunned looks and hushed whispers passed among the previously unwitting.

”Now our friend Blue Falcon isn’t the only EBE that can manifest what we would consider a parapsychological effect.  The flying squid… I don’t think we have a codename for that Bunyip yet… the flying squid, which we’ve learned is a non-sentient predator from an unknown world,  appears to have an ability to mask itself from observation by sapient species.  If it doesn’t want you to see it, you won’t.  Thankfully, that is the limit of its psychic talents, according to our chatty Attar.”

”So Blue Falcon space dwarves appear to have a menagerie of species they use for differing purposes.  They command and exert telepath control over both species and have the capability to do so to our own.  If Squiddly and Attar are the diggers, Blue Falcon is the officer.”  Cooper thought it best to outline the last part explicitly.  Because everyone knew, officers were prime targets on the battlefield.  Even an interstellar one.

”We also learned the Blue Falcon in charge of the warehouse was given advanced warning of the raid.  It set its mind-controlled Russkies to packing up and then tasked the Attars to serve as bodyguards.  From the intelligence we’ve gathered during the interrogation, the loss of two Falcons on this mission and one Falcon in Australia has made significant impact on them.”

With that Cooper held one hand up.  ”Now please hold your questions because we’ve saved the best for last,” he added, shifting his hand gesture to invite the next presenter.  Williams gave Hannah a wink as he stepped back.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:35, Wed 30 Aug 2017.
Hannah Omdahl
player, 223 posts
CWO2, U.S. Army
dcoda
Wed 30 Aug 2017
at 23:25
  • msg #349

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Double Down blushed slightly and  gave Diver a wan smile when he winked at her.

Hannah stepped up next, in front of Williams and Choi for the moment.  Taking in a deep breath first, her light frame shuddered slightly.  "I'm Chief Warrant Officer Hannah Omdahl, United States Army." she formally introduced herself, rattling off her serial number in the process as well as her previous unit assignment.  "But enough about me." Double Down noted in passing, "You've just had your eyes opened to a broader universe - an apparently hostile one.  Here is what we know about the grunts the enemy uses, which we have gathered from direct field experience, post-mortem autopsy results, as well as interro.. interviewing our one live specimen."  Hannah paused for a moment, then continued, "The recent activity here has yielded our first live capture of an Attar-template EBE - seemingly modeled off of a known wanted terrorist:  Mas'ud Attar." And she pointed to screen behind her, while continuing, "His brief is in your packets, but long story short - they all look something like this guy.  Memorize that ugly mug."

"This EBE template has been shown to have enhanced strength, endurance, and reflexes - some of which is due to cybernetic implants of some sort, we believe." the auburn-haired pilot narrated, as various images flashed on screen, "These implants range the gamut in functionality.  And are tailored to the mission - and some individual preference." she let that latter fact sink in, the aliens exhibited plenty of sentience, "The list that we know of is includes, but are probably not limited to, the aforementioned enhanced physical capabilities, subcutaneous body armor, millimeter-band radar used for night vision, the retractable finger blades, a short-range directed electromagnetic pulse generators for trashing surveillance equipment, and various sensory augmentations.  We have also experienced that this EBE template has acidic blood and saliva, though we are unsure if this is a cybernetic-enhancement; it could simply be standard with the phenotype."

"We have determined that EBEs do not appear to be vulnerable to any known terrestrial bacteria or virus.  They are simply too alien in biochemistry, apparently." Hannah noted with some discomfort, "However, do appear to display susceptibility to some types of fungi.  Go figure.  This potential weakness is still under investigation."   Hannah really had no idea how to weaponize athlete's foot.  "Also further, uh, interviewing of our one live subject has yielded additional information their specific dietary needs." the lithe army aviatrix digressed for a bit, geeking out a bit on some of the details.  But then she refocused on the briefing, "Some of the items are reasonably exotic; so, we may be able to work out a consumption pattern.  But that is a more long term project."  One that she knew that Amber Cell (and probably Dealer) were already working on.

"However, I know that as patriotic and protective citizens of the USA and the world in general..." Double Down added with a slightly crooked smile, "What is first and foremost on your minds: How do we kill these things."  Her gaze passed over the audience, as she measured her words and tried to keep her tone even.  "Not easily, is the ultimate answer.  Always remember that you can't presume that we know everything about them - they are definitely intelligent and have shown a blatant disregard for human life."

"But I digress," Hannah noted, returning from her somber tirade to the facts of the briefing, "We do have at least one major advantage.  The EBEs are unaware that their thermal signatures are different than ours.  In the case of the Attar-template, they run extra hot.  The Blue Falcon dwarves run cold."  Examples of live-action sensor feeds from the team's various cameras highlighted her points in the background.  She let the information sink in, as detection of disguised aliens was as at least half the battle.  "Still," she stressed, "Remember this remains an advantage only as long as the enemy is unaware of it."  It was a solemn reminder of what was at stake and how much of the intelligence game was due to the fog of war.

But to not end on a completely down note, Hannah added, "And we know that, despite their advanced technology and physical enhancements, the EBEs are still susceptible to extensive ballistic trauma."  It wasn't necessarily a license to use excessive force, but, hell, as far as she was aware these things took a real beating.  And so an extra double tap to the cranium wasn't always out of the question.  Having said her practiced bit, Double Down stepped back to be inline with Diver and Lizard King and ready to take any other questions.
Sebastien Durand
player, 435 posts
DGSE
Dave Ross
Thu 31 Aug 2017
at 19:31
  • msg #350

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Durand looked at the pad on his knee - why the Americans used yellow for these things was a mystery to him - several pages of which were now covered in notes that had been scribbled in French. He'd already known some of the information that his three colleagues had just shared with the room of course, but all of it. Clearly the others had also been busy while he and Dealer had been tinkering with the alien circlet.

A few things were circled or underlined. The dates 1979 - 2008 were circled twice. Durand wondered what was significant about those dates, why the aliens had stayed away between them. Something they were afraid of? Or had the leaders of Earth reached some sort of secret accord with them, one that was now no longer in place? If someone had said that to Durand a year ago he would have told them that was a crazy conspiracy theory. But the world had turned on its head since then. The Frenchman could empathise with the military and law enforcement personnel sitting on the other side of the room, could understand their gasps and looks of disbelief. They were at the bottom end of a steep learning curve.

The Frenchman looked up from his notepad, looked over at the non Grey Cell contingent seated on the left hand side of the room, waited for the questions to come.
Tegyrius
GM, 748 posts
Sun 15 Oct 2017
at 21:09
  • msg #351

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

A stunned silence hangs over the room for more than a minute.  No one wants to be the first to ask the wrong question, the stupid question - or the question that'll put another crack in an already-damaged worldview.  Then, from the back row, the major in charge of the AFSOC contingent makes brief eye contact with Michael, slides down in his seat, and drawls, sotto voce, "How do I get out of this chickenshit outfit?"

A couple of heads in the FBI section whip around with expressions of disapproval, but a few nervous titters leak out of the local cops and Bannon guffaws audibly.  With that, the dam breaks.

James defers a question about alien psychology until he has a chance to consult an actual psychologist.  Hannah and Michael tag-team a series of best guesses on the effectiveness of Army air defense assets on low-flying alien craft.  James shuts down what promises to be a long-winded diatribe on the legal implications of the task force's handling of non-human subjects.  Cooper and Hannah neatly sidestep an uncomfortably-close question on the nature of the psychic phenomena, giving Michael a chance to brief his most recent finding on psychic ECM.  Sébastien steps up to summarize three months of frantic operations and research in six terse paragraphs.

ASAC Murchinson waits for the next pause, then unfolds the arms that have been crossed tightly over his chest since he took his seat and raises two fingers.  "I'd like some answers," he says acidly, pointedly not looking at James, "as to why none of this was briefed before the operation."  He clamps his jaw tightly on what's obviously a full head of steam and recriminations.

Mewes takes a step forward but Vest shakes his head.  "I'll take that one," he says quietly.

"Because no one fucking believes this shit."

He lets the profanity settle onto the surface what's been a professional, if tense and hectic, briefing.  "We've tried.  We have tried and tried to pre-brief people before first contact and it.  Doesn't.  Work.  They don't believe it.  They laugh it off, or they back away slowly, or they nod and smile and don't take it seriously.  It's probably because we all grew up in the era of science fiction and special effects.  But no one really believes us until they're face to face with the enemy."  He sweeps a hand across the still-standing members of Grey Cell.  "You only get read into this compartment after you survive your first encounter and don't lose your mind.  As you saw last night."  He runs a hand through his hair.  "Christ, man, we haven't briefed a sitting president since Reagan.  We can't risk driving one insane by proving to him that we aren't.  You guys took psych casualties last night.  You've seen it happen."

Vest pans his haunted gaze across the hangar.  "Show of hands.  Before last night, who in this room would have truly, in your heart of hearts, accepted a briefing that said alien infiltrators were working with the Russian mob to assassinate the last survivors of the last U.S. Navy unit to experiment with alien technology?  If these guys had come to you and showed you the alien autopsy DVD, who would have gone through the door to shoot E.T. in the face with no reservations or lingering doubts?  Who would have believed?"

Shoulders shift uncomfortably.  No hands go up.

"Right.  I believe that's covered.  Thank you, Commander."  Mewes takes the briefing in hand again.  "Unfortunately, we still have several issues in play.  Task force orders.  White Cell: proceed to China Lake and investigate the apparent compromise of the artifacts stored there.  You'll relieve the members of Commander Vest's unit who are already on site; they'll remain to assist you.

"Grey Cell: proceed to Belize and reconnoiter the island that Admiral Frye willed to Commander Ceelen.  AFSOC and Amber Cell security personnel will provide support.

"Bravo Company, Third Ranger Battalion will continue to provide security for recovery operations here, liaising with Miami PD.  Captain Tomlin, you should have orders in hand from Fort Benning shortly to confirm that.

"The Office of Naval Intelligence will take point on the investigation of Captain Brackney's disappearance in Maryland, coordinating with the FBI."  Mewes locks gazes with Murchinson.  "Given the investigation's nature and the issues Commander Vest shared, we'd prefer to arrange this as a temporary assignment for agents who are already inside the compartment.  ASAC Murchinson, I'd appreciate it if you could provide me with a list of volunteers."

"Major Bryant, Monsieur Durand, Chief Bannon: a moment of your time, please, gentlemen."

With that, the briefing dissolves into a dozen different conversations as people begin to stand.
Sebastien Durand
player, 436 posts
DGSE
Dave Ross
Mon 16 Oct 2017
at 18:30
  • msg #352

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Well, that probably went about as well as could be expected Durand thought to himself as the briefing came to its end and people began splitting up into various sub groups according to the tasking that they had been assigned. After all, virtually every man and woman in the room had just been told that extra terrestrials did exist. And they had not come in peace. The Frenchman could empathise with how they were probably feeling. After all, no one had briefed him on the nature of the threat, had only found out the hard way when he had gone hand to hand with one of the fuckers in Libya. And no one liked feeling that they were being kept in the dark. But the people in the room were all professionals, and all things being equal Durand reckoned that most of them had taken the news that mankind was not alone quite well. Most of them. The FBI guy still sounded pissed.

Still, that wasn't Durand's problem. The DGSE operator walked over to where Mewes was standing. He'd changed out of the black nomex assault suit that he'd worn the previous night, was now clad in a plain black t shirt, coyote tan cargo pants, well worn desert boots. A day and a half's worth of stubble adorned his chin. "Gentlemen," he said as he joined the group that was assembling, a nod offered to each in turn while he waited for the Royal Air Force officer to speak.
Tegyrius
GM, 750 posts
Tue 17 Oct 2017
at 00:25
  • msg #353

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

"Seb."  Flynn Bryant nods to the DGSE agent.  "Sucks about Dancer and Painter, brother."  He gives Sébastien a tap on the shoulder, then turns to Mewes.  "Sir."

The RAF officer's hand twitches in an abortive attempt to run through the hair that hasn't been there for years.  "Gentlemen, I know I've just handed you a rather large tasking, but we need to be thinking about contingencies.  Our luck held in Australia but this is a larger and more visible operation.  It's entirely likely that we'll shortly find ourselves less than black."

Bannon snorts and carefully does not look at the FBI contingent clustered around ASAC Murchinson.  "He can't leak to anyone if he's at the embassy in Iceland."

"I'm not pointing any fingers," Mewes says with a hint of reproach in his voice, "but this is a large footprint with a lot of people who aren't accustomed to operating in our world.  I don't expect anyone here to be stupid enough to go to the press but someone's chain of command may begin asking questions.  So..."  He hesitates.  "Do consider how best to interface with local authorities in a more open manner than we've been allowed to date.  That restriction may be changing shortly."

He turns to Sébastien.  "The Americans are loaning you one of their pararescuemen for medical support in Belize.  He speaks the local language.  Do you need me to chop you Bannon or Maatsen too?"  His eyes ask the real question: are you ready to run the team with a third of its strength in the hospital?
Sebastien Durand
player, 440 posts
DGSE
Dave Ross
Tue 17 Oct 2017
at 19:05
  • msg #354

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

"Thanks, man, I appreciate that." Durand has time to acknowledge Bryant's sentiment of solidarity between two brothers in arms before Mewes begins to speak. When the Englishman has finished, the DGSE operator paused for a moment, considered what he had said and, perhaps more importantly, what had been left unsaid.

It's a brief pause, one that concludes with Durand shaking his head. "We'll be OK, Sir." His voice is low, his tone one that is measured. Determined. Grey Cell are going to finish what they've started. Themselves. They owe that to their two wounded comrades. Durand owes it to Dancer. He's not about to take the easy way out and hand over to Maatsen or Bannon.
Michael Dacovetti
player, 340 posts
Tech Sgt, JSOC JCU
keys138
Wed 18 Oct 2017
at 16:11
  • msg #355

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

With the reality paradigm destruction of the briefing complete and Seb being pulled into a scrum with the other powers that be, Dacovetti excuses himself from the front of the room and makes his way to the AFSOC contingent that has colonized a portion of the rear wall.  He gives into he Florida heat as he walks and rolls the sleeves of his linen shirt to his elbows.  The commander of the Air Commandos catches his eye again and smiles at his approach.

"Michael Dacovetti," the officer says and offers his hand.

Michael accepts the hand with a grin of familiarity. "Major Graph."

"I think once you've slept together in a dogpile, huddled for warmth in the bottom of a concrete pit, you can drop the formalities.  At least occasionally."  Graph steps back and sweeps the assembled men with a hand.  "Gents, Michael here and I had the dubious honor of attending Advanced Beatings together at SERE, what ten years ago?"

"Approximately," Michael confirms.  It's close enough to be within a reasonable margin of error, and even Dacovetti isn't socially dense enough to correct it in front of Graph's men.  Besides, he likes the guy.  For a CCT.

"You, my heat generating friend, have brought us into quite the little mess.  A goddamn bonafide bug hunt.  Graph smiles again, this time all incisor.  "I cannot thank you enough.  Blowing Haji up has gotten stale.  Now we get to fuck up ET.". There are nods all around, aggression Michael reads as compensation for uncertainty and confusion.  When most days of your professional life has been spent in environments where you are standard deviations above your adversaries, it's a common enough reaction.  One that Michael had been trying to excise from his own parameters for the last several months.  Somewhat unsuccessfully based on the risk profile he witnessed in his own video footage.  "We're going to hook you guys up with my supermedic, The Saint."

A squat Hispanic man steps forward, crimson PJ beret tucked into his BDUs and offers Michael his own hand.  Another quick shake ensues.  "Diego Martinez."

"San Diego!"

"Yeah, message received, thanks Spence," Dacovetti quips back, taking advantage of the informality the moment possesses.  The TACP assesses the PJ in professional mode and concludes that he likes what he sees.  "We are grateful to have your assistance.  We need it."
James Choi
player, 359 posts
Special Agt, FBI HRT
Raellus
Sat 21 Oct 2017
at 17:30
  • msg #356

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


"Well, that went about as well as could have been expected," James thinks, glad that Vest had put Murcheson in his place. James still isn't quite jaded enough not to have a little trouble believing all that he's seen and done- that he and his Grey Cell teammates are at the tip of the spear in a shadow-war against a covert extraterrestrial invasion force.

"Bug hunt, indeed..."

"So, we're off to Belize, eh. Never been. Should be fun."

-
Hannah Omdahl
player, 228 posts
CWO2, U.S. Army
dcoda
Tue 24 Oct 2017
at 19:56
  • msg #357

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Hannah stood for a moment and let out a deep breath, as she watched the formal portion of the meeting end and the people disburse into their smaller cliques.  The thin army aviatrix made her way over to where Double Down thought Grey Cell was gathering - though Dealer and Bullfrog were both dealing with adjunct issues, it seemed.

She nodded to Lizard King's quip about their next target location, "Me neither.  They speak Spanish there, right?  Or is it Portugese or French?"  Not that it mattered really, Hannah didn't speak any of those languages.  Perhaps being regular ol' army-o, she presumed that communication by armalite was the preferred method.  But probably not; she'd not proven to be overly trigger-happy up to this point.

Double Down glanced around the room nervously, there were a lot more people in on the 'secret'.  And that didn't seem to make her feel better.  She'd hated keeping it bottled up inside, but letting it out actually didn't seem to have been better either.  I guess the grass isn't always greener... the auburn-haired pilot mused to herself.  She leaned in towards her other squadmates as her gaze fell upon Murchenson and his gaggle.  "Seems like the ASAIC has a bee in his bonnet, " she mused, this time aloud, "Think we'll have trouble with the FBI?"  Hannah obviously didn't included James in that group, given both her proximity and tone to the Lizard King.

She continued, "Could make life domestically really crappy..."  Hannah did wonder just how much personal power, the man wielded or if any of his peeps were anywhere as competent as Choi was...
James Choi
player, 363 posts
Special Agt, FBI HRT
Raellus
Wed 25 Oct 2017
at 01:00
  • msg #358

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


"I don't know," James answers, honestly. "I'm feeling more like an imposter every day. I mean, I think I'm still on the Bureau's side, but I really don't have any way of knowing if they're still on mine."

James smiles, a snippet of an old song he'd heard on a late-night infomercial for 'Smooth 'n' Easy Hits of the '70s' or something like that popping up, unbidden, in his mind. It'd made such an impression on him that he'd found it on YouTube and listened to it all the way through.

Torn between two lovers, feeling like a fool
Loving both of you is breaking all the rules

He smiled because the chorus described his current career situation pretty nicely. He wasn't sure if he was really FBI anymore, but, when he wasn't preoccupied with shooting at space aliens, sneaking around behind the Bureau's back rubbed his Confucian sense of duty and loyalty pretty raw.

"It'd be nice if jurisdiction wasn't still such a grey area," he continues, musing, "Maybe that's why we're called Grey Cell..."

-
This message was last edited by the player at 23:33, Thu 26 Oct 2017.
Cooper Williams
player, 105 posts
Petty Officer, RAN
Spartan-117
Mon 30 Oct 2017
at 19:27
  • msg #359

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

In reply to Hannah Omdahl (msg # 357):

Cooper was passing by when he heard Hannah speculate on the local language of Belize.

"Português, estou bem com. Espanhol, não tanto," Williams said.  The thumbs up after Português, followed by the thumbs down after Espanhol gave all the context that was needed.  Cooper only paused briefly however, as he was focused on finding the unit armorer.

"Tell me Mate, do you know what an F89 is?" the Australian frogman asked after a quick introduction.
Tegyrius
GM, 755 posts
Fri 3 Nov 2017
at 00:31
  • msg #360

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Group Captain Mewes gives Sébastien a terse nod.  "Copy that," he says.  "Get your people ready.  You'll launch at dusk.  No, wait - I need you here for one more conversation."  He lifts his head and raises his voice slightly in another summons: "Chief Omdahl."



"I think they're sending me with you as much for el español as the fentanyl," Martinez advises Michael.

Graph nods in confirmation.  "The other terp option was giving you one of the Rangers and they're too monosyllabic to be useful."

"Aliens.  What the actual fuck."  Martinez shakes his head.  "Okay, I hope you're not planning to take any more prisoners, 'cause I am not equipped to keep those motherfuckers alive.  So talk to me about these blaster rifles the bad guys have.  Should I even bother with a plate carrier?"

"Ugh."  Graph shakes his head.  "And speaking of heat generating, just how obvious are these things on thermal?



"Of course you'll have trouble with the FBI," Detective Salcedo murmurs as she steps up between Hannah and James.  "They're not used to being the ultimate authority."  She nudges James with her elbow.  "No offense, Jim."

She pauses, then tilts her head at Mewes' summons.  As Hannah walks away, she turns back to James, sobering.  "It looks like it's time for cleanups and cover-ups here.  I'm assuming you're not gonna use the flashy thing to erase everyone's memories, so... what the hell happens now?" she asks quietly.  "Just act normal?"  There's a flicker of locked-down desperation in her eyes.



Caporal Corin Sauvageot gives Cooper a bland stare that suggests he'll have to delve much deeper into obscure hoplology to stump the French air commando.  "It's like a Minimi but upside-down, no?"  He turns to the row of rolling hard-shell cases from which he's been dispensing armament.  "I hope you don't mind if all I have is the Mark 48..."



Mewes acknowledges Hannah's approach with another brisk nod.  "Chief.  We have a preliminary flight plan.  Grey Cell will take the Hind.  The air commandos will ride in American Navy Knighthawks.  There's a Coast Guard cutter on station in the Gulf for refueling or an abort point, and we have an agreement with Belizean authorities for a final refueling stop there.  You'll also have a flight of F-22s on CAP the whole time."

He pauses for his fellow pilot to absorb the need for a covert night flight over water before continuing.  "You are implausibly far outside crew rest parameters, but you have more flight time in the Hind than anyone else in the unit.  You also -" he hesitates and glances around - "you're also a unique asset in other ways.  I want you and Monsieur Durand to determine if you're better employed in the air or on the ground for this one."
Cooper Williams
player, 107 posts
Petty Officer, RAN
Spartan-117
Sat 4 Nov 2017
at 11:10
  • msg #361

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

"That will do, Caporal.  That will do..." Cooper said with a nod toward the Belgian weapon in the case.  The Mark 48 was the sister of the FN Maximi, which had entered in to Australian service so recently that it the weapon system still didn't have a F-series designator, like the F89 light support weapon or the the F88 series of assault rifles.

Spying a nearby 416 as he signed the hand receipt for the Mark 48, Cooper glanced toward it then added "You know, one day these Yanks will embrace the bullpup rifle like Australia and France have done Caporal Sauvageot.  I think when they do, they'll be very happy.  An' if they get one with an optic, they'll be very happy indeed."

"Alright, now to sort out the rest of the kit."  Cooper started to draw field gear, protective equipment, and ammunition.
Michael Dacovetti
player, 342 posts
Tech Sgt, JSOC JCU
keys138
Sat 4 Nov 2017
at 21:38
  • msg #362

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


Once, in a previous episode in the way-back, Michael Dacovetti heard Rangers described as "too stupid to feel pain, to tough to die."  The description has always proved unfair, and the airman has always had the pronounced urge to replace the first half of the declaration with: "overly aggressive for sensitive processes."  That, however, does not exactly roll off the proverbial tongue.  And doesn't begin to touch his pronounced discomfort with the motto: "though I may be the lone survivor."  Any mission that leaves one survivor has failed miserably in Michael's opinion.  "The assistance of a PJ is welcome.  Someone else to habla the español is more than welcome."

Michael leans back and perches his thin frame on the back of a folding metal chair, letting a sigh escape.  Fatigue is fighting a battle behind his eyeballs and the last can of consumed Red Bull is less than an hour old.  Any more and The Saint is going to be treating him for heart palpitations.  That means an adjustment for sleep during the transit to the jungle.  A future injection of caffeine stimulant might be more effective then than the present.  A yawn emerges.

"Blaster rifles," Dacovetti says with a smile. "'Phase plasma rifles in the twelve mega-watt range?'"  There isn't much of an Arnold impersonation with the delivery, but a anyone who quotes Aliens will get the Terminator reference.  "The short answer, Martinez, is the blaster will probably penetrate the trauma plate, although I don't have any direct evidence.  The plate is probably still crucial given the large number of unwashed masses that accompany the alien assholes who still believe in delivering kinetic energy in far more conventional ways.  Plus splash from the energy weapons that tend to fling bits and pieces of shrapnel from their impact points."

"This fuckin' guy always like this?" Martinez raises a skeptical eyebrow.

"Confused the shit out of the SERE instructors," Graph shoots back with a grin.  "Heads fucking exploded compadre."

"Tone it down?" Dacovetti asks, with a grin of his own.

"Fuckin'A," Martinez says.  "I make holes and plug holes. No hablo physics."  Self deprecation is evident in the tone.  PJ's aren't exactly famous for being dumb.  Not with the ridiculous amount of medical knowledge socked away in their skulls.

"I've been known to get carried away."

"It's cool, my man."

Michael nods.  "My hope is to figure out away to acquire more prisoners.  Highest pay-off for intel.  All that being said, we lucked into that one.  Odds aren't great of that occurring again."  Dacovetti flicks his eyes back to Graph. "ET here isn't hard to spot with thermal.  They pop right out of the background.  At least the variants of alien we're familiar with so far.  I can't say with any degree of certainty that we won't run into something else.  We've seen mind-control, flesh camouflage, acid emitting decomposition, cloaking devices, anti-gravity, spaceships, and plasma weapons.  The good news is they are mortal.  They bleed and die.  And if a jumped up computer geek like me can get his shots in, you crew of killers should be just fine."

With another yawn, Michael stands. "Let me show you where we're prepping.  The next scenario is going to be popping off soon."
James Choi
player, 367 posts
Special Agt, FBI HRT
Raellus
Sun 5 Nov 2017
at 20:09
  • msg #363

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


James has to fight back the urge to shrug. "That's all anybody can do," he begins lamely. "Keeping a secret is never easy, especially when it's the mother of all secrets." James continues, his wry expression adding, "I should know."

Detective Salcedo's expression reveals exasperation.

"We don't exactly have a PR department. We're kinda making this up as we go along," James confesses.

"That doesn't help me, James. I've got to tell my bosses something."

James thinks it interesting that Salcedo choose to call him by his given name. He's well aware that familiarity- feigned intimacy- is often used as a good cop interrogation tactic. Could the detective's word choice indicate something more? As if he doesn't have enough keeping him up at night already. Either way, James feels guilty. He hates to leave her to clean up Grey Cell's mess; he wants to help.

"A shootout with terrorists," he posits. "They had a couple of hi-tech drones and some kind of hallucinogenic gas or something that they were planning to release. Some of it escaped during the gunfight. A few people got dosed, thought they saw spaceships. They'll be fine. The residue is being cleaned up- no reason to fear any lasting ill effects. The terrorists were killed. The immediate threat's been neutralized. The investigation is ongoing. No further comment. The good guys won."

Salcedo's quiet, mulling it over.

"Or you could go with the old classic- swamp gas ignition..."

The attempt at levity falls flat but Salcedo's expression has softened.

"Look, if the heat's too much, I can see if we can arrange a transfer. We're always on the lookout for new talent."

-
This message was last edited by the player at 20:10, Sun 05 Nov 2017.
Hannah Omdahl
player, 232 posts
CWO2, U.S. Army
dcoda
Tue 14 Nov 2017
at 06:43
  • msg #364

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Hannah excused herself when the Group Captain summoned her.  The lithe army aviatrix trotted over to where Mewes was standing and saluted him.  "Group Captain." Double Down addressed her superior officer, "You called, sir?"  She stood at ease as Mewes spoke, giving him a wan smile when he mentioned not having enough rest.  But it was the same for all of Grey Cell; even if none of the others were going to be doing the driving.  She nodded curtly, when he finished up with the order to sort out her team placement with Durand; Double Down paused for a moment, as the loss of Dancer as the group's leader finally was internalized.

But it was only for a moment.  "Yes, sir." Hannah acknowledged, the various parts in turn, "Excellent, sir ...  Of course, sir ...  Thank you, sir."

After being dismissed, the auburn-haired pilot made her way over to talk with Sébastien when he had a free moment. "Bullfrog," her light alto timbre called out to the Frenchman, "Mewes wants to know if I should deploy with the team on the ground or my skills are better utilized in the air."  She looked a touch pensive, as she gave the team lead a moment to respond.  Then Double Down cleared her throat slightly and spoke again. "If I may speak freely," Hannah asked, then continued, "Much as I love to fly, it wouldn't feel right to remain on the Hind while the rest of Grey Cell was on the front line.  Unless you want me there to provide some level of air support, I think along side the rest of the team would be best."  Without overtly speaking about any sixth sense that may or may not be in play, that was the closest that Double Down could come to trying to explain her position.  Given her call sign, Hannah wasn't nearly as adept with firearms as the rest of the team - she wasn't exactly a liability, but her main advantage was much less tangible.

And for the time being, she was okay with that.
Sebastien Durand
player, 445 posts
DGSE
Dave Ross
Tue 14 Nov 2017
at 21:14
  • msg #365

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Durand grabbed two of the folding chairs that had been used during the briefing, slid one across the floor to Hannah, turned the other one around so that its back was to the American woman before taking a seat, facing her, his arms draped over the back of the chair as he listened to her.

"I think you're right." The Frenchman said when she had finished speaking, said that she wanted to be with the team. "Don't get me wrong, Hannah, you are one hell of a pilot. If there was one person I would want in the air covering our asses as we go in it would be you." Durand grinned. He wasn't bullshitting her or trying to build her up. It was true. "But what we're dealing with here goes way beyond anything any of us have experienced before." And the deeper they dig into things the crazier it all gets.

They had all seen things that Durand would never have believed a year ago. But Omdahl had perhaps experienced more than any of them. Maybe. Durand didn't really know for sure, he just knew that she had a....what? An ability? A gift? Was that what it was? Or was it a curse? Sébastien Durand didn't know. Was he being a bastard taking her out of her natural element and wanting her with them on the ground? Treating her almost as a weapon, but one made of flesh and bone? Perhaps. But having her with them added a new dimension to their abilities. And maybe made it more likely that they would all be coming back.

And that was all that really mattered in the end. They already had two members of their team down. How seriously in Dancer's case was still not clear. And Durand was determined that he would do all that he could to make sure no one else fell.

"For this mission I think you can make a huge contribution on the ground. We need your skills." Skills. That was one way to put it. Durand smiled, his hand clasping the aviatrix's shoulder, firmly, a gesture intended to convey solidarity. Comradeship. To dispel any doubts that she may have. "Let's do it."

Rising to his feet, the DGSE Operator pushed  his chair away. It was settled, one decision made. But there were still a multitude of other things to be dealt with, to occupy his mind. After checking in with each member of Grey Cell he went to speak to Christophe Vidry and his Air Commandos, joined them as they gathered in a huddle that concluded with a loud rendition of the French national anthem, La Marseillaise.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k9J6rFWTfVA
This message was last edited by the player at 22:10, Tue 14 Nov 2017.
Tegyrius
GM, 759 posts
Wed 22 Nov 2017
at 23:17
  • msg #366

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Salcedo blinks at the unexpected offer.  "Huh.  Y'know, I..." she trails off in thought, then shakes her head.  "Ah, shit.  I love this city, even though I spend all my time doing street proctology on it.  I can't leave."  She smiles tiredly.  "But hey.  Call me when you can and let me know what happened in Belize, will ya?"
Tegyrius
GM, 760 posts
Wed 22 Nov 2017
at 23:17
  • msg #367

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Philip S.W. Goldson International Airport
Ladyville, Belize
12 June 2015
0436 hrs local (1036 hrs Zulu)

The Polish aircrew assigned to the Hind are not - quite - aviators on Hannah Omdahl's level, but they've been quietly professional during a seven-hour ferry flight which included two detours around thunderstorms and a covert refueling aboard a U.S. Coast Guard cutter.  Moreover, they're quite aware of the fate of their Grey Cell countrywoman.  Their preflight checks of the weapon pods hanging from the aircraft's stubby wings are edged with anticipation.

Between the Poles' muttering and a similar - if more apprehensive - ritual among the Knighthawk's flight crews, the raid's command group huddles for a final briefing.  In the predawn fog beyond them, the AFSOC and CPA 10 operators form an inner security perimeter around the helicopters.  Unseen, the outer ring is a company of blissfully-ignorant Belize Defense Force troops.

"CAP just came off the tanker and is back on station," Major Graph reports.  "AWACS has nothing on radar," with a sidelong glance at Michael Dacovetti, "or the, uh, new sensor package."

Sergent-Chef Christophe Vidry sips from a steaming mug and threads his free hand under his plate carrier to scratch his ribs.  "We're ready.  Groupe Un and Blanchard with me on the helo.  Groupes Deux at Trois are at the harbor and can launch any time."

"Hey, one thing here." Staff Sergeant Diego Martinez waggles the tablet PC that bears the fruits of James Choi's in-flight investigations.  "So I don't know shit about electrical engineering.  I know cops look at high power bills like this and think 'grow lab,' but this isn't exactly the kind of country where you need to hide your pot plants, if you know what I mean."  He gestures in a general inland direction.  "But there's other kinds of labs that draw a lot of power, too, and they're having a lot of medical supplies shipped in.  I'm just sayin'..." he shrugs.  "Pig and elephant DNA just won't splice."

The tablet in Sébastien Durand's hand bears a live feed from the CN-235 lazily circling the target island at 20,000 feet.  A rifleman and a large dog are walking a slow counter-clockwise patrol.  Two more riflemen occupy guard posts on opposite sides of the island.  There's no other sign of motion.  But beneath the footprint of the trio of Quonset huts on the island's north side, the ground glows in a squared-off pattern indicative of a large underground complex.

The island is perhaps ten minutes' flight away.
Sebastien Durand
player, 455 posts
DGSE
Dave Ross
Sat 25 Nov 2017
at 19:02
  • msg #368

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Durand took another look at the image on the tablet's screen then turned his attention to the small group of figures that had gathered round. "OK, ladies and gentlemen, we are a go." The DGSE Operator let his eyes move around the group. "Primary objective is here -" a nomex gloved finger pointed to the image of the underground complex that was on the tablet "- we'll infiltrate as already briefed*. Dealer will issue the special headgear to those that will be using it. Does anyone have any questions?"

Durand's expression didn't change when the briefing concluded and he was handed the modified circlet that might act as a countermeasure for the aliens' psychic capabilities. Or might fry every synapse in his body. Well, there was only one way to find out he thought as he looked at it, turned it over in his hands, ran a finger over its surface, let the fact that he was holding something manufactured on another world sink in.

* as per OOC
Michael Dacovetti
player, 354 posts
Tech Sgt, JSOC JCU
keys138
Sun 26 Nov 2017
at 17:28
  • msg #369

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


"We know that the air-conditioning units the aliens prefer are massive energy hogs, which could lead one to conclude that we are dealing with more of the same," Michael says in response to The Saint's comments.  "Especially given the ambient temp around here.  The biomedical supplies could indicate that this is where they construct their 'flesh suits,' for lack of a better term."  Dacovetti shrugs.  "I recommend tossing speculation right out the window given that wide array of technology we've seen so far.  This place could be 'human experimentation station number fifteen' for all we know."  Or there is some truly epic reefer in this jungle.

"Yeah, so no we are going to conduct some non-peer reviewed research based on urban legend and Agent Cooper's baseline intuition.  Namely: do aluminum hats block psychic waves?"  The airman has exactly fuck-all evidence that this should be the case.  Based on the evidence of the alien brain wave propagation he's studied, the odds are somewhere between slim and not-fucking-likely.  "We've broken the commando team up into a experimental group and a control group.  Those in the experimental group will be issued helmets modified with aluminum foil, Reynold's, Heavy Duty."  That's a reasonable guess as to military nomenclature.  "And so no one feels like I'm secretly laughing at all of this," Dacovetti tilts his own helmet forward showing a new shiny liner.  Hopefully it won't make his head perspire anymore than the jungle heat already does.

"If anyone feels an alien taking over their mind, please make a note of it for review after the action," he deadpans then grins.
Hannah Omdahl
player, 236 posts
CWO2, U.S. Army
dcoda
Thu 30 Nov 2017
at 22:09
  • msg #370

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Hannah had occupied herself with the chatter in the cockpit as she leaned back against the bulkhead of the helo transporting Grey Cell.  It helped to calm and center her.  Not quite as much as flying the beast itself, which would have been theraputic on an entirely different level.  And as good as the pilots were, ever since she learned to fly the lithe army aviatrix was always most comfortable behind the stick.  Probably as most pilots were.  It was just the control freak in her.

The comment about the power consumption and the possibility of this being the most expensive weed bust in the world did elicit a slight, crooked smile from the auburn-haired pilot.  And a light chuckle at Dealer's rejoinder.  It would be a welcome shift in luck to bust in on something as simple as a super sophisticated underground grow room.  But, it wasn't going to happen.  No way, no how.  And she was glad that Michael was able to debunk the situation so effectively.  Hannah would probably have just ignored it to the detriment of the morale.

Double Down heard the discussion about the tinfoil swirling around her, but had little to contribute to it.  Everything was supposition or hypothesis or conjecture.  Plus, Hannah was not going to use either the circlet or the foil linings.  And since she wasn't about to tell anyone outside of Grey Cell anything about seeing purple auras or anything akin to having a burgeoning sixth sense or any type of extrasensory perception; that settled that.  She kept her mouth shut.

All that latter stuff, that would just be crazy talk - it was the corollary to Commander Vest's reasoning on mission briefing statuses.  Serious craziness.  And, as Double Down was well aware, the first rule of relationships:  Hide the Crazy for as long as possible....
Tegyrius
GM, 764 posts
Tue 5 Dec 2017
at 01:22
  • msg #371

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Off the cost of Belize City
12 June 2015
0458 hrs local (1058 hrs Zulu)

Through Sébastien Durand's night-vision goggles, the island is a crackling green bulk against the sea's darker oscillation.  The DGSE agent crouches in the RHIB's bow, scanning Grey Cell's course.

Behind him, Michael Dacovetti and James Choi hunker under a poncho to mask the glow of their tablets.  James' thermal imaging feed from the CN-235 orbiting above the mansion shows the moving sentry and his dog following their regular track.  On Michael's screen, there's no indication of anomalous electromagnetic activity - alien or terrestrial.

Sébastien gives the commit signal.  Hannah Omdahl and Cooper Williams throttle up the electric trolling motors attached to their respective craft.  Grey Cell and its air commando reinforcements glide toward the island, aiming for the trio of quonset huts that rises from the north shore.

The nearest guard is in the post opposite the island's dock - roughly two o'clock on a clock face superimposed over the island.  The team's approach angle is from eleven o'clock, just outside his direct line of sight.  The boats hiss to a halt on the sand perhaps two hundred meters from his position, and one hundred from the huts.

By James' estimation, the moving sentry will pass the insertion point in another six minutes.

There's no immediate sign that the team's arrival has attracted any attention.

The metal circlet tucked beneath Sébastien's ballistic helmet is cold in the tropical air.  Feathery sensations like the legs of insects trickle along his scalp where it rests.

The team moves forward as planned, spreading out as the huts loom larger in the darkness.  The structures bear no outward markings, just a thick and peeling coat of battleship-gray paint.  But to the thermal imagers attached to the team's weapons, the ground beneath seems to glow the warmest beneath the westmost building.

Three minutes.

Neither the large roll-up door nor the small personnel door to its right bears a lock.  James and Sébastien check for security systems; again, nothing.

Two minutes.

James cracks the personnel door.  No alarms sound; no alert is evident on the distant aircraft's thermal image.  But there's a glow of fluorescent tubes from within.  If the door is opened enough to admit the agents, the glow will spill across the cleared space in front of the huts like a bonfire.

Your move.
James Choi
player, 377 posts
Special Agt, FBI HRT
Raellus
Fri 8 Dec 2017
at 02:20
  • msg #372

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


James carefully rests the edge of the door back against the rim of the jamb, cutting off the light from inside. His night vision is temporarily shot. He blinks hard twice, glances down at the luminescent hands of his watch, then holds up two fingers.

We've got two minutes 'til the sentry arrives.

What the team needs now- and doesn't have- is a blackout curtain. In fairness, it's not usually on the tactical entry packing list. The former FBI HRT shooter kicks himself for leaving his poncho in the RHIB.

"Anyone have a poncho?" he whispers, hoping the question would elicit duplicate visions in his teammates' imaginations. If the answer is no, the next best option is probably to ambush the sentry when he moseys into view.

-
Sebastien Durand
player, 462 posts
DGSE
Dave Ross
Fri 8 Dec 2017
at 09:54
  • msg #373

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Durand is trying not to think about the circlet that he is wearing, trying not to contemplate the fact that it could spring to life at any moment with consequences that he can only imagine. And his imagination has been very dark when it comes to conjuring up different possibilities when it comes to what could go wrong.

As Choi eases the door closed again the Frenchman withdraws the fish lens camera, digests the images that it captured, passes the information on in a hushed voice. "No tangos inside. We need to make an entry." Mindful of noise discipline, he's keeping his words to a minimum but his tone attempts to convey a sense of urgency. There are things in there that they need to check out, if only for purposes of elimination.

"No poncho here." The FBI agent's query is answered in the same whispered voice. The crye camo clad DGSE Operator is equipped with various items designed to aid a tactical assault and incapacitate or kill opponents but it simply hadn't occurred to him that he'd need a poncho.
Michael Dacovetti
player, 356 posts
Tech Sgt, JSOC JCU
keys138
Fri 8 Dec 2017
at 19:01
  • msg #374

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

”Poncho up,” Dacovetti whispers from inside the huddle.  The plastic fabric is still damp from its exposure to the ocean spray from the ocean traverse.  Damp and almost slimy from the island humidity.  Clutching his WASP close to his body with his right hand, he passes the folded form forward.  Had this been an urban assault, the piece of kit would have been left behind.  With nature playing a possible starring role in the order of battle, the extra weight had been worth the effort.  He’s carrying entirely too much equipment that gives off the telltale LED glow of hostile units present in the AO.  The PRC-117 nestled between his shoulder blades is a familiar weight the other members of the team don’t have to contend with.  Weight that cost him weapon choices.  If a silent fight breaks out, he’s going to be hitting the ground and staying out of the way.   The WASP in his hands has proven more than adequate at dispatching it’s targets in an acoustically profound way.

The plasma pistol strapped to his leg is an alien shape, one he’s not used to yet.  The presence reminds him briefly of what they could be facing again.

100 seconds.  A low tone runs constantly in his left ear, just above the threshold of background noise, an audible expression of his monitor gear.  Should the EM spectrum become active in the bands he’s designated as hostile, the tone will rise in pitch in tandem with the strength of the signal.
James Choi
player, 379 posts
Special Agt, FBI HRT
Raellus
Fri 8 Dec 2017
at 20:02
  • msg #375

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


"Get inside and kill the lights," James whispers, quietly unfolding Davocetti's poncho. He's comically overqualified for the task, but time is the great leveler. Mk.18 hanging from its tactical sling, he presses one end of the poncho against the lintel, allowing the rest to dangle like a drape. "Go!" he nearly hisses, stepping aside so that Durand can squeeze by. It's an uncomfortably vulnerable position, back to the darkness, sentry no more than a minute-and-a-half out. He runs through the drill should the approaching bad guy catch him in the act.

Drop the poncho, side-step away from the doorway/reacquire primary weapon, engage...

-
Tegyrius
GM, 767 posts
Sat 9 Dec 2017
at 01:06
  • msg #376

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

In a rustle of Gore-Tex, Sébastien slides into the quonset hut.  It's a few degrees warmer than the tropical air outside, but a surprisingly dry heat, and the air feels indefinably off.  A pair of light switches is mounted just beside the door.  The DGSE agent swipes a hand across them as he flips down his NVGs.  In the moment between the descent of darkness and the return of the familiar green-hued view, Sébastien notes a lone emergency light mounted over the door, glowing a dull red EXIT.

The rest of the team slips inside.  James brings up the rear, collapsing the borrowed poncho as he eases the door shut to avoid a betraying slam.  By his mental clock, he had a good thirty seconds to spare.

The room, eight feet deep and about twenty wide, is crowded with five Grey Cell agents and an equal number of reinforcements.  The only furniture is a metal desk, apparently a relic of the 1950s, and a matching swivel chair whose badly-worn leatherette upholstery is patched with duct tape.

Upon the desk is a three-ring binder with a sign-in/sign-out log bearing a variety of signatures in multiple examples of execrable penmanship.  The time/date stamps are in military notation, and recent.  If the log is accurate, two people - a "Mlkc Ffomlm" and a "Fqmn Rjn" - signed in at 2331 and 2348 last night and haven't signed out.

The far wall is heavy-gauge steel, apparently set in the concrete floor.  It doesn't quite go wall-to-wall, nor floor-to-ceiling.  To Hannah's eye, it looks like the steel is one face of a metal box that was set in the slab, with the quonset hut being built atop it afterward.  It's covered in peeling gray paint.

Set in the middle of the wall is a pair of double doors, constructed as heavily as the wall itself.  Scars and discolored paint on the metal to the right side of the doors indicate where older equipment mounts were removed at some point, making way for the current smaller apparatus.  Two state-of-the-art retinal scanners are mounted - one at the usual level, the other at a height fit for a seated adult - or a dwarf.  Beside the lower scanner is a touchscreen panel.

As Michael leans toward the tech, a status display on the panel catches his eye.  Whatever is on the far side of the door is being kept in a positive-pressure environment.
Sebastien Durand
player, 463 posts
DGSE
Dave Ross
Sat 9 Dec 2017
at 14:50
  • msg #377

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

"Christophe, Daimien, watch the door." Durand's left index finger points to the door that they had just entered through as he issues instructions to his countrymen, using English for the benefit of the rest of the team. "Corin, Baldy, you two cover those." The same finger is now indicating the two double doors set into the middle of the steel wall. If the binder on the desk is correct then there are two...whats?...on the other side. People? Attars? The names don't immediately make any sense, and in any event idea of an alien signing in and out seems almost incongruous, but whatever passed through those doors Durand wants to be prepared if they should return.

With security arranged, the barrel of the Frenchman's rifle slowly lowers until it's pointed more or less downwards, his attention turning to the doors that Sauvageot and Baudin are moving to cover. "Anyone have suggestions as to how we get through those doors?" The overt security precautions appear to be obvious, but there could be others as well, designed to raise the alert if an unauthorised access is attempted. Maybe the random jumble of letters in the signing in book have some relevance when it comes to the touchscreen panel. Or maybe not.
Cooper Williams
player, 114 posts
Petty Officer, RAN
Spartan-117
Sat 9 Dec 2017
at 17:50
  • msg #378

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

"Aye," Cooper said when Durand asked about suggestions to get through the obstacle ahead.  The Australian combatant diver doffed his assault pack and opened it, revealing a plethora of pre configured explosive charges of varying types.  Some were built to down trees, to create adhoc landing zones for helicopters.  Most however were designed to breach doors and obstacles.

"If someone wants to try to hack the Matrix, that might be quieter.  If we fail and kick off an alarm, I can be ready to kick off the breaching charges."
Michael Dacovetti
player, 360 posts
Tech Sgt, JSOC JCU
keys138
Sun 10 Dec 2017
at 00:42
  • msg #379

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Michael moves to the door locks and lifts up his NVGs, feeling the subtle click that locks them in place above his eyes.  The electronics giving off a feint glow should yield to a determined attack, time being the great limiter.  He kneels down next to the lower retinal scanner and touch pad, peering at the design, thankful for small miracles that a few recessed screws are visible on a panel below the touch pad.

"Five minutes," he says out loud, "within a reasonable degree of certainty. And just to keep everyone appraised of the situation, we're looking at a positive pressure environment on the other side of this door.  Whatever is contained is going to come pouring out at us.  It might be time for gas masks."

A small Mag-Lite emerges from one of his pockets and takes residence clutched between his teeth.  Practiced fingers open a small tool kit and he starts twisting screws out of the panel.  The panel yields, exposing a world of complicated circuit boards and wires.  Instead of trying to figure out how to trick the system into thinking it has received the proper code, he moves to cut the alarm out of the loop entirely, jumping around the circuit so that the system thinks the door is still closed.  Which, to be fair, it still is.

With that done, he starts following the power flow from the wall towards the lock mechanism itself, hidden somewhere in or above the door.  The lock will be sheltered, protected from direct attack.  But a change in the electric flow, in the electrons reaching it, might result in a reversal of the locking mechanism.  When he's got his best guess as to where he needs to futz with the power supply he pauses, preps himself for the assault,* and moves as far to the side as he can to clear the door for the attacking stack.  Which is a difficult task given his hands are located in the wall.

"I'll go on your three," Dacovetti says to Seb.


*If the consensus is for gas masks, he'll be donning one.
Sebastien Durand
player, 467 posts
DGSE
Dave Ross
Sun 10 Dec 2017
at 14:33
  • msg #380

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

"OK, we'll try and hack our way in first. Dealer, you've got the gig. Coop, you're our back up with the charges if that doesn't work."

"James, you take lead in the stack. Martinez, you're next. Hannah and I will be right behind you."

"The rest of you hold position and keep watching the doors."

 The decision on how to try and achieve a breach made, Durand considered Dealer's comment about gas masks.  Wearing masks would limit their peripheral vision and, potentially, their situational awareness, but they had no way of knowing what might come out of that vault if they did manage to gain entry. It could be harmless or it could be lethal. The fact that there didn't appear to be any sign of protective equipment in the hut didn't mean anything - anyone entering could already be wearing a bio hazard suit.

"Everyone mask up." The Frenchman announced, letting his rifle hang from its sling as he reached into the pouch at his hip for his own gas mask so that he could pull it on. Only when the entire team had done so did he nod to Dealer, raise his left hand, his fist clenched. His right was back around the trigger guard of his rifle.

"One." One finger extends from clenched fist.

"Two." Two fingers extended

"Three..."
This message was last edited by the player at 19:28, Sun 10 Dec 2017.
James Choi
player, 382 posts
Special Agt, FBI HRT
Raellus
Sun 10 Dec 2017
at 19:03
  • msg #381

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


James removes his foil-lined helmet and sets it on the desk. He hates wearing the respirator- the loss of hearing and peripheral vision just makes CQB that much more difficult- but it most likely beats a lungful of alien atmosphere, or whatever ick waits on the other side of the doors. Come to think of it, it probably isn't E.T. air- if it was, there'd likely be some sort of airlock, and that doesn't appear to be the case here. But, better safe than sorry and all that.

Respirator adjusted, he puts his helmet back on and sets the stack, standing offset left of the door, Mk.18 up and ready.

"Lizard King ready." he reports, his voice sounding strange in the echo chamber of the sealed rubber headgear.

-
This message was last edited by the player at 21:06, Sun 10 Dec 2017.
Tegyrius
GM, 772 posts
Tue 12 Dec 2017
at 23:36
  • msg #382

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

"Hey, one thing," Martinez points out as he dons his own mask.  "Positive pressure.  They're keeping outside air from getting in.  So they're not worried about contaminating us - they're worried about us contaminating them."  He grasps his own rifle again.  "Immunocompromised patients.  Clean room.  Something."

James, first in the stack, glances down at the touchscreen.  Something drags a fingertip across his intuition.  He gives Michael a "hold" sign, then taps one of the icons on the screen.

The screen changes to reveal a number pad.  It's a two-factor identification system - first an ID number, then a retinal scan.

Michael eases back from the power supply he was about to violate and pulls another toolkit from his pack.  There are only a certain number of data cable ports for systems like this.  He carries adapters most of them; the rest are too simple to bother cracking.

The team waits, tense, to the rattle of keys.  James sees the touchscreen flicker, blank, flicker again, then sputter a series of lines of diagnostics.  Then the number pad reappears.  Michael reaches up and taps "0" seven times.

Then he flips the power.

The doors unseal in a puff of air, swinging outward on hydraulic pistons.  Within is a safety rail, yellow-striped, surrounding an eight-foot square of rubber matting.  A double gate in the side of the rail is secured with a worn carabiner.  On one corner of the rail, a simple control box is mounted; its mate hangs on the wall just inside the door.

Whatever is buried beneath the island, this is the way to it.

Powerful fans kick on with a snap and hum, driving airflow through vents in the floor to maintain pressure in the chamber.
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:37, Tue 12 Dec 2017.
James Choi
player, 384 posts
Special Agt, FBI HRT
Raellus
Fri 15 Dec 2017
at 00:00
  • msg #383

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


“Second Floor. Hardware. Children’s wear. Ladies' Lingerie... Oh! Good morning, Mr. Choi. Going... down?"*
Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
*The opening voice-over to Aerosmith's 1989 hit, "Love in an Elevator".

It's odd, the random things that pop, unbidden, into one's head at the most inappropriate times, James muses, wondering for a moment if others experience this phenomenon too.

Back to business. Grey Cell is at a proverbial crossroads.

"Do we really want to go down there with the topside guards still behind us? They might be able to keep us from coming back up." It's CQB 101. You clear each and every room so that the bad guys can't hit you from behind. Leaving the sentries alive means ceding the high ground to the enemy and, unless there's another way out [highly unlikely], increasing the possibility of being trapped underground. On the other hand, dealing with the sentries now very likely means losing the element of surprise, and the door might not stay open indefinitely. It's not a decision James is comfortable with making unilaterally.

-
This message was last edited by the player at 00:50, Fri 15 Dec 2017.
Sebastien Durand
player, 471 posts
DGSE
Dave Ross
Sun 17 Dec 2017
at 11:02
  • msg #384

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Durand nods in agreement. The Frenchman is working on the theory that there's a red light flashing on a console somewhere right now indicating that that door has just opened. Whether it will be noticed or not is another matter but his assumption is that sooner or later someone is going to come and investigate. It's the glass half empty approach, but in their profession it's better to plan for the worst case scenario.

"Agreed." The DGSE Operator nods. His features are obscured by the gas mask and NOD's, the alien circlet worn above them, then his helmet above that. Anyone catching a fleeting glimpse of him might think that he is the ET.  "We'll leave Vidry and the air commandos stay here to secure the way out. The rest of us will go take a look at what's down there."

He pauses for a moment. "I'm going to call in the QRF before we go down. We've seen enough to justify it in my opinion." The Frenchman supposes it's still possible that there's a non alien related explanation for all of this but it's extremely unlikely. Maybe the whole thing belongs to some old American dude who's obsessed about the threat of nuclear war and has built his own fallout bunker. What was it the Americans called people like that? Preppies? Something like that. But Durand thinks it is unlikely that they have just discovered a Preppy redoubt.

"The QRF can secure the rest of what's above ground. It will take them around ten minutes to get here so that will give us a head start. When they do arrive it might distract whoever is down there, which will work in our favour."

"Any signs that there's anything toxic in the air?" The question is primarily addressed to Dacovetti and Martinez. Unless there's clear evidence to the contrary Durand plans to have everyone stay masked up for now. The benefits of improved vision do not outweigh the risks posed by a threat that can be neither seen nor, perhaps, smelled. He's acutely conscious that it's also a threat that their sensors may not be able to detect.
Tegyrius
GM, 773 posts
Sun 17 Dec 2017
at 13:25
  • msg #385

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

There's a faint rattle of equipment as Martinez checks a couple of somethings attached to his armor.  "Well... oxygen is normal.  I'm not reading any carbon monoxide, hydrogen sulfide, or flammable gas."  He pauses.  "Huh.  There is a trace of VOCs but not any higher than you'd see from painting your bathroom.  And I'm not getting any chemical weapons.  So nothing I can detect is going to kill us immediately, for whatever that's worth."
This message was last edited by the GM at 13:38, Sun 17 Dec 2017.
Michael Dacovetti
player, 363 posts
Tech Sgt, JSOC JCU
keys138
Sun 17 Dec 2017
at 16:48
  • msg #386

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

"I'm negative on the EM spectrum," Michael says from his kneeling position.  That nothing had come out of the doorway immediately hostile had been a relief.  "That should imply that our adversaries haven't reacted to our presence.  Yet.  Unless they're learning."  The various tools that had overcome the electronic security door disappear back into padded kits, placed back into their proper positions on his LBV or pack.  The airman stands, and moves into position near their female aviatrix.  Or resident psychic, depending on skill set she's representing at the moment.

The elevator beckons, giving entrance to the underground facility that promises...something.  Other than just radio black-out with the outside world.  Fingers flex around the pistol grip of his WASP.

"Radio transmissions are going to be intermittent at best underground.  I'll make the call for the QRF prior to descent." Michael says to Seb, tapping his radio.  "Just say 'when.'"
This message was last edited by the player at 16:49, Sun 17 Dec 2017.
Cooper Williams
player, 119 posts
Petty Officer, RAN
Spartan-117
Sun 17 Dec 2017
at 19:18
  • msg #387

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Cooper reached for his gas mask, but instead of the carrier, he found a large 7.62mm belted ammo pouch.  Right, he thought to himself, realizing that he had been so focused on dope and beer, that he'd omitted a pro-mask.  Likewise, SAPI plates were ditched in favor of offensive and breaching capabilities.

Williams shrugged, then double-checked his Mark 48.  Perhaps the alien atmo might kill him slowly.  It didn't matter.  Cooper intended to kill them quickly and soon.

"Let's move out and draw fire," he said, nodding toward the route before them.
Hannah Omdahl
player, 238 posts
CWO2, U.S. Army
dcoda
Thu 21 Dec 2017
at 02:21
  • msg #388

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Hannah gripped her silenced MP7 tightly in her hands.  She tried to keep quiet, letting the boys lead.  They had more tactical acumen and she'd been finding herself trying to focus and be a more passive receptor to incoming information.  The lithe army aviatrix seemed attentive enough, following instructions, covering the necessary angles and entry points, as well as donning her gas mask when prompted.  But, Double Down was definitely not taking point or forcing her way on anything.

She had let it be known that calling the cavalry earlier rather than later was probably a good thing.  Whatever they found down there was going to need back-up.  And a distraction was always a good thing - a sort of "shock and awe" setup.  Hopefully, they weren't in for the shock; otherwise, they were going to have to be ready for the unwelcomed kind of "Awww...".  The hairs on the back of her neck were prickling again.  There was a general sense of anticipation and dread - sort of like what she was starting to feel every time she saw the purple glow - something was building and it was not going to ordinary (or good, most likely).

Another deep breath and she glanced down the hole in the floor.  A slightly resigned nod followed when Diver made his prompt for action.  The group was truly committed here, and it was bound to be CBQ rules down there.  Double Down could feel the thin layer of perspiration on her palms; it was a good thing that she had on her trusty gloves.  And that her face was covered.

Hannah wasn't scared, per se.  Just on edge...
James Choi
player, 387 posts
Special Agt, FBI HRT
Raellus
Thu 21 Dec 2017
at 13:58
  • msg #389

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


"I think we're as ready as we're gonna get," James replies, stepping into the lift. He'll be first out, so he makes room for the others to get into position before retaking point. "All aboard that's coming aboard."

-
This message was last edited by the player at 16:09, Fri 22 Dec 2017.
Tegyrius
GM, 774 posts
Tue 26 Dec 2017
at 14:04
  • msg #390

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

James presses the DOWN button.  With a hiss of hydraulics, the platform descends.  The elevator shaft is concrete, old and pitted, with occasional veins of rebar exposed where larger chunks have crumbled away.

There's a momentary flicker of something - surprise, maybe? - at the edge of Hannah's awareness, but no invisible purple light spills into her vision.

With an exposed platform rather than an enclosed car, it's easy to mark depth.  Sixty feet down, the elevator announces its arrival with a bang and rattle.  James quickly slides open the latticework of the safety gate.  Grey Cell pours out into a small foyer, featureless save for a yellow safety stripe painted on the institutional white tile floor.

The air here is cool - comfortably air-conditioned but not the arctic chill that the Attars seem to prefer.  Cooper detects the faint scent of metal and cleaning products.  The walls are scuffed eggshell-white drywall.  From the high concrete ceiling, fluorescent tubes compete for space with fifty years of infrastructure: water pipes, air ducts, sprinkler heads, electrical conduits, battery-powered emergency lights, and newer bundles of network cable, all immaculately labeled with all the care an obsessive-compulsive maintenance department can muster. None of the team can see any security cameras.

Ahead is a short hallway with a four-way intersection, then a T-intersection beyond it.  James wafts forward and extends a dentist's mirror at ankle height.

The hallway to the right contains opposing wooden doors: GENTLEMEN and LADIES.  Beyond them, another door, this one unlabeled.  The hallway disappears in a corner.

To the left is a wooden door with a glass insert, though James' current viewing angle makes it impossible to see through.  Opposite it is a heavier steel door with a reinforced frame.  A small box set on the wall beside it bears red and green lights; the green is currently illuminated.  This hallway, too, ends in a corner.

The straight-ahead hallway has two wooden doors before the four-way intersection.  Beyond it are two more doors, both of the heavy steel type, with their green lights also illuminated.

As James relays the terrain to the rest of the team, he hears a distant muffled thump.  Then - footsteps and the squeak of rubber on tile, approaching from the right.
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:38, Tue 26 Dec 2017.
James Choi
player, 391 posts
Special Agt, FBI HRT
Raellus
Sat 30 Dec 2017
at 21:55
  • msg #391

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


Contact!

A surge of adrenaline immediately sharpens James' already active senses. He focuses on his breathing to avoid the unwanted physiological side-effects of tunnel vision and time dilation.

Almost, he corrects himself, reestablishing a sense of calm and control.

Time to grab a mo-fo.

James signals the others that someone, or some-thing, is bopping down the hallway from the right, making enough noise to be heard through the plastic shroud of the gas mask- pretty clear evidence that the subject doesn't have the faintest inkling that intruders are lurking just around the corner. The Grey Cell point man cocks his head and reaches questioningly towards Durand's holstered taser. The former FBI man is currently in the best spot to use the non-lethal device, but if the Frenchman would rather take the shot, James will step aside and shift into a covering position.

-
This message was last edited by the player at 17:23, Sun 31 Dec 2017.
Sebastien Durand
player, 476 posts
DGSE
Dave Ross
Mon 1 Jan 2018
at 12:20
  • msg #392

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Durand had placed himself closer to the rear of the stack, thinking that Choi's skill set was best suited to taking point and Williams had the materials and training that would be required if they needed to breach entry anywhere, but that now left him ill suited to utilise the taser that nestled in a holster attached to an MLBE loop on the front of his plate carrier vest.

Lifting his right hand off the trigger guard of his rifle, the Frenchman reaches for the taser and eases it out of the holster so that he can hand it off to Choi. It will take less time and should be quieter than the tactical ballet that would be required to use it himself.

Once the taser has been passed to the American the DGSE Operator uses hand signals to indicate to Martinez that they should split the area ahead into two arcs, with Durand taking the right and the PJ the left. The Frenchman then brings his rifle up, his hand returning to the trigger guard although he keeps his finger off the actual trigger wile he waits for Choi to act, conscious that there are a lot of friendly bodies in a relatively small and enclosed space and the gas mask is limiting his field of view, so if he does need to start shooting for any reason it will be with single shots at carefully selected targets.
Tegyrius
GM, 779 posts
Thu 4 Jan 2018
at 22:47
  • msg #393

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

The team spreads out as much as the hallway allows, muzzles coming up in a whisper of incipient firefight.  On point, James steadies the X2.  His eyes flicker down the tile, measuring out the 21 feet that are the maximum range of the weapon's probes.  He glides forward until he's within range, then freezes in place.

Waits.

The squeak of rubber on tile grows louder, accompanied by the sound of footsteps.  Then two feet, clad in new white Converse sneakers and resting on metal pedals, slide into view.  The rest of the wheelchair rolls forward around the corner and pivots smoothly toward Grey Cell, then abruptly halts as it fills James' sight picture.

The man in the wheelchair is on the far side of eighty, dressed in cargo pants and a white guayabera shirt.  He's as bald as a cartoon vulture, and the right side of his face has the melted-wax slumping stiffness that tells of at least one severe stroke in his medical file.  But his good left eye focuses intently on the team.

The man pushing the chair is no more than a decade younger, with unkempt white hair that halos his face .  He wears khaki pants and a New Mexico Tech T-shirt.  He smoothly brakes the wheelchair's left wheel with the toe of his leather sandal, then raises his hands.
Michael Dacovetti
player, 368 posts
Tech Sgt, JSOC JCU
keys138
Sun 7 Jan 2018
at 16:44
  • msg #394

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Dacovetti tenses, watching the exchange of the taser take place out of his peripheral vision, attention focused instead on his assigned sector.  The first beads of sweat are forming inside the assorted collection of plastic polymers making up the gas mask protecting his respiratory tract from the unknown hazards in the environment around the team.  If any, of course.  It could all be overkill.  Or it could be an agent so small, some little beast so minute that it could slip through the pores on the filter strapped to his face as easily as walking down a hallway.  Spending any more time thinking about it is pointless, a distraction that reduces immediate survivability far more than anything they've run into so far.

Then the geriatric duo with the wheel chair comes into view.  An explosive combination of a sigh and a chuckle escapes Michael's lips, tension bleeding out in a momentary theater of the absurd.  The variable regarding the levels of medical equipment imported has been solved, he thinks wryly, not quite relaxing.  There is no guarantee that they won't suddenly prove to be some half-Attar genetic thing.  The WASP comes up, thermal scan made and the equally surprised elderly duo proves to be human, the wheel chair, slightly above ambient having absorbed the body heat of its occupant.

The thought comes that this place is either a retirement home for those working with the Attars or working against them.  If it's the latter, the idea crawls up his spine that they may have just led the enemy here.

"Whose side are they on?" he whispers, quietly enough, he supposes, that only Hannah can hear.
Sebastien Durand
player, 478 posts
DGSE
Dave Ross
Sun 7 Jan 2018
at 20:45
  • msg #395

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

When his thermal sight registers no anomalies that might indicate that either of the two senior citizens is an Attar Durand allows the barrel of his rifle to lower so that it is no longer pointing directly at either of them.

He can feel a trickle of sweat run down his forehead under the respirator, hear the sound of his own breathing. Maybe they have called this one wrong. Maybe there is an innocent explanation for what's going on here. Maybe. And Durand has just called in the QRF. Are they about to invade sovereign Belize territory to storm something that's nothing more than a retirement facility whose residents happen to be hyper serious about their security and privacy?

Not for the first time since he joined Grey Cell, the operator wonders if this is the moment that his career just ended. He wasn't overly concerned for himself. He'd never sought high rank with the DGSE, for that required playing too many political games, knew that he could get options in the private sector that paid three of four times what the French Government did. But he was bothered for his team. And Kowalska and Crewe. He owed the Attars for what they'd done to them.

For one surreal moment he's tempted to say take me to your leader, instead glances over at Martinez, his shoulders wrinkling into the briefest of shrugs before turning his attention back to the two senior citizens again, watching to see what happens.
James Choi
player, 393 posts
Special Agt, FBI HRT
Raellus
Sun 7 Jan 2018
at 21:42
  • msg #396

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


James would have been less surprised if it had been a 10-foot-tall xenomorph queen in the hallway. The two old men momentarily throw him for a loop. It feels like ten seconds pass, but it's really just under one.

"Hands up! Let me see your hands!" He's having trouble modulating the volume of his voice- he doesn't want to make a lot of noise, but he needs to be heard through the respirator mask. Two old dudes' lives may depend on it.

Thankfully, the senior citizens comply. If they look as surprised as James is, their expressions are closer to annoyed than afraid.

"You!" he says pointing at the standing man with the taser. "Come here! You," he begins, making eye contact with the man in the wheelchair, "Don't move." The situation is too fraught to enjoy the subtle irony of the order.

James passes the ambulatory case back to his companions. Then he circles around behind the wheel chair and steers it around the corner, exposing his back to the corridor for a brief, asshole-puckering couple of seconds. He hands the taser back to Durand and draws his pistol, before peeking back around the corner. All clear.

"NPC, cover the corner." James figures his interrogation skills are about to be called into play. A pure shooter can cover the rest of the team for now.

Fuck this thing, he thinks, removing helmet and then mask. These guys are reading human and Cooper seems to be OK. Beads of sweat roll from forehead to chin. The relatively cool outside the humid confines of the respirator chills his face. It feels good.

"Sorry for being rude, gentlemen, but..." But what, James wonders. What protocols apply in this case? Who the hell knows. Just get to the point. "Special Agent Jim Morrison, FBI hostage rescue team. Who are you and what is this place?"

-
This message was last edited by the player at 01:56, Mon 08 Jan 2018.
Hannah Omdahl
player, 243 posts
CWO2, U.S. Army
dcoda
Mon 8 Jan 2018
at 18:47
  • msg #397

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Hannah's brow furrowed as their first contact with the enemy turned out to be a couple of geriatric gentlemen.  Her silenced MP7 didn't waver from the targets, even though they appeared to unarmed and surrendering.  She was glad that the men were preoccupied with Choi, who'd taken the lead on any negotiations.  Double Down had found herself almost hyperventilating, the short sharp breaths in time with her racing heartbeat.  The thin army aviatrix had to force herself to take a deep breath, which caused her thin frame to shudder slightly as she exhaled.

Her eyes darted towards Dealer and her head moved slightly in acknowledgement to his query.  Another deep breath followed.  She continued to view the pair through her thermal sights, which gave no anomolous heat signatures on the two elderly gentlemen.  Or their wheelchair.  But then she tried to defocus her sight and relax her mind.  It was a work in progress as the adrenaline pumping through her system was trying to do the exact opposite with her senses.

Double Down knew that there was plenty of background noise and that her special awareness wasn't very reliable, but she knew that she had to try as well.  It was one of the reasons that she was down here and not piloting the group's getaway vehicle.  Part of her longed for the bygone days when all she had to worry about was guiding her chopper into a crowded market square with only a meter of space to spare.  Under fire.

Her leg throbbed sympathetically for a moment.  Allowing her to latch onto that feeling and ride it.  The pulsations were given purpose and pushed outward as Hannah softly intoned, "Who are you?  ... Really...."


[OOC:  If allowed (not sure how any of this should work, really), Hannah will try to use her Awareness to see if the two gentlemen have... uh ... alien ties...]
This message was last edited by the player at 00:34, Wed 10 Jan 2018.
Tegyrius
GM, 784 posts
Tue 9 Jan 2018
at 23:51
  • msg #398

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

The elderly men do not resist as James separates them.  At his self-introduction, however, a flicker of alarm passes across the standing subject's face.  It's so quick that James would miss it if he weren't so intent on the interrogation.  Miss it before it hardens into defiance.  "You're outside your jurisdiction, Special Agent," he growls.  He squints at James' face, then adds softly in heavily-accented Korean, "Neo domabaem wang-i aniya. Geulaedo domabaem gisailjido molla."

Behind him, the wheelchair rolls back into view and executes a precise ninety-degree turn, bringing its occupant to face Grey Cell again.  The man in the chair slouches to the right and a trickle of blood runs from his nostril, but his eyes are alert and angry.

Hannah twitches as an electric sensation crackles through her head.  An instant later, there's a tick audible to everyone as... something... happens in the air between James and the standing man.  A puff of momentary breeze ruffles James' hair.

To Hannah's senses - it's more a sense in her visual cortex than anything she sees with her eyes - a silvery-blue lattice materializes, spanning the hallway with interlinked hexagonal cells no more than a quarter-inch across.  There's none of the searing near-painful actinic purple she's perceived from the space dwarves' powers.  This manifestation thrums with power, but it's almost something she can reach out and manipulate herself.

The man in the wheelchair rotates his left hand upward.  Held between his thumb and forefinger is a two-inch dodecagon of dark jade.  To Hannah's inner sight, it pulses with the same power - and its holder's eyes glow with it, too.

"Need to go, Mark," the man in the wheelchair slurs.  Then his eyes fix on Hannah.  Dart to Cooper.  Back to Hannah.  His anger fades into something halfway between suspicion and wonder.  "Belay that.  Young lady, who sent you down here?"

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
And you're no lizard king.  You may be a lizard knight, though.

Cooper Williams
player, 123 posts
Petty Officer, RAN
Spartan-117
Tue 9 Jan 2018
at 23:54
  • msg #399

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Cooper (NPC'd) winces at the tick and shakes his head, as if croggled by a sudden change of pressure in his inner ear.  His weapon twitches toward the man in the chair, then deflects slightly to not quite cover the man's forehead.  He takes a step forward, coming up on Hannah's other side.  "You're seeing that too, right?" he whispers.
Hannah Omdahl
player, 245 posts
CWO2, U.S. Army
dcoda
Wed 10 Jan 2018
at 08:50
  • msg #400

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Hannah's eyes darted in Cooper's direction, and she gave a slight nod to his query.  "Yup." was all she said in response, her eyes never leaving the corridor or the two elderly men.  She was still trying to figure out if she actually believed what she was 'seeing'.

She forced herself to take a deep breath to try and slow her heart rate.  Her eyes darted to the display of power from Mark, the gentleman engaged in the figurative pissing match with James.  The audible pulse was an assault on her senses on three different fronts.

Her weapon didn't waver, still trained on the man in the wheelchair - even though Mark seemed more willing to directly engage.  There was something about the other man.  Something ...  Then the wheelchair bound man addressed her directly, forcing Double Down to blink for a moment.  And she recognized it, the deference and the cadence.  Mark wasn't a simple orderly, the man in the wheelchair was in charge.  And military.  Hannah wracked her brain to see if the two men might match any of the old photos of the other members - 'missing' or 'dead' - of Observation Squadron Fifty-Four.

She rolled the dice.  "Commander Ceelen sends his regards." Double Down answered after a deep breath and a pregnant pause.  Her blue-green eyes peered up over the thermal sights on her MP7, but the gun barrel never wavered from its position.  "Someone just tried to kill him; he figured the site was likely compromised ..."  It was a slight prevarication, but the auburn-haired pilot wasn't going to completely tip her hand.
Sebastien Durand
player, 480 posts
DGSE
Dave Ross
Wed 10 Jan 2018
at 12:24
  • msg #401

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Durand glances at his watch. It’s only been four minutes since they parted company with Vidry’s team. Four minutes during which they have somehow or other stepped into some sort of twilight zone. The Frenchman still isn’t sure precisely what’s going on but whatever it is he’s no longer sure that bringing in the QRF is a good idea.

”Dealer.” the DGSE Operator says quietly, his eyes watching Hannah’s interaction with the two old guys. ”See if you can get through to the QRF. If you can get through tell them to break off and hold at their present position.” He doesn’t know if their comms will work underground but there’s only one way to find out.

Following Choi’s cue, Durand then begins the process of removing his respirator. After all, neither Williams nor either of the senior citizens appear to be having any difficulties, so it was reasonable to presume that the gas masks were no longer required. It requires him taking his helmet off first, which would surely make the alien circlet that he’s wearing visible to anyone that happened to look in his direction. He doesn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed that the circlet had done nothing at the sound of the tick. Probably the former.

It takes a moment or so to remove the mask, replace it in its pouch, then don the circlet and helmet again. When that process has been completed Durand keys his throat mic, trying to establish contact with Vidry. ”Leopard Frog from Bullfrog, how copy over?”

Vidry answers almost immediately. OK, at least the comms between teams are still intact. There’s a brief pause as Durand composes his message. ”Sitrep. No sign of any opposition so far.” Another pause before he continues. ”Tu ne vas pas le croire. Nous avons rencontré deux vieux gars. Les retraités. Un dans un fauteuil roulant. Nous essayons de mettre la QRF en attente.” What people would believe or not believe in Grey Cell was a relative term of course. They could take shapechanging aliens in their stride but two American senior citizens was entirely another matter. The switch to his and Vidry’s native language is partly instinctive, partly an attempt to prevent the two senior citizens from eavesdropping. Not that he knows whether they can speak French or not of course. ”Any activity at your end?”

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
You’re not going to believe this. We’ve met two old guys. Pensioners. One in a wheelchair. We’re trying to put the QRF on hold

James Choi
player, 394 posts
Special Agt, FBI HRT
Raellus
Fri 12 Jan 2018
at 01:17
  • msg #402

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


Between being addressed in his ancestral tongue, and the strange energy discharge, James finds himself pretty much gobsmacked. He resists the urge to fall back on his FBI training, responding with, "Answer the question". That would likely be counter-productive, at this point. Instead, James elects to keep his mouth shut, allowing Omdahl's promising intervention to run its course.

-
Michael Dacovetti
player, 369 posts
Tech Sgt, JSOC JCU
keys138
Fri 12 Jan 2018
at 03:04
  • msg #403

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


There are a few moments of the stand-off where Michael's brain runs a "does not compute" sequence that doesn't quite leave the airman paralyzed, but does leave him wondering just what Grey Cell has managed to step into this time.  Just which bizarre unforeseen permutation of reality are they currently inhabiting?  One with aliens invaders?  One with psychics?  All of the above, mixed in with angry geriatrics?  It's enough to leave a man's brain with a permanent BSOD.  Thankfully, Dacovetti has orders.  First things first, he dumps the gas mask.  If all of his friends want to die from unknown biohazards, why should he be any different?

A quick tap of the fingers on his radio's detachable face-plate adjusts the current frequency set and launches him over to the UHF radio band.  The direct control frequencies are usually point to point.  This far underground, he's not sure he'll get much of anything, but if he can't the pair of professional killers guarding their back should be able to.

"Archangel, Archangel, Empire Three, how do you read?"  A screech of static overcoming the squelch setting comes blasting back into Michael's ear. A sound containing something, that might, might, be a radio transmission.  "Archangel, Empire has you broken and unreadable.  If you can copy my message, break off your approach and hold current position.  Repeat, hold current position, do not attack."   Another blast of static breaks squelch. The weight of the radio shifts with a shrug of Michael's shoulders.  "If you copy to hold position, break squelch twice."  This time, two faint breaks come through the radio.  Followed by a few more random clicks, pops, and hisses.

"Best guess?" he says to Seb, "they're holding.  But I'm wouldn't take the bet if we were gambling for real money.  This is farther underground that these radios are designed for."
Tegyrius
GM, 786 posts
Sat 13 Jan 2018
at 13:18
  • msg #404

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

"Tout est calme ici," Vidry reports.  "Nous avons entendu la transmission du concessionnaire et nous relayerons à la QRF."

The two elderly men stare intently at Hannah.  They say nothing, but to James and Sébastien, their body language strongly suggests that some sort of communication is passing between them.  Hannah and Cooper can almost assense it - a subliminal whisper in the ether.

As Sébastien removes his helmet, both men's attention snaps to him, their faces tightening in surprise.  Hannah feels another flicker of information pass between the men.  Then the standing one's stance changes just a bit: still suspicious, but no longer prepared for imminent violence.  "You are in way the fu--"  His eyes dart to Hannah again.  "Way over your heads," he continues.  "If Ceelen really sent you, you wouldn't have come in blind.  So something happened to him and you got just enough information to find us."  He pauses and James can see him scrutinizing the intruders for microexpressions that confirm his suspicion.

The man in the wheelchair speaks up again with a faint, lopsided smile.  "Whatever you think you came to find, this is not it.  You really need to go away and report that you found nothing more than a retirement home for offensively rich, eccentric expatriates."  There's an almost physical force behind his words, compelling obedience.

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
All is quiet here.  We heard Dealer's transmission and will relay to the QRF.

This message was last edited by the GM at 13:23, Sat 13 Jan 2018.
Cooper Williams
player, 124 posts
Petty Officer, RAN
Spartan-117
Sat 13 Jan 2018
at 13:20
  • msg #405

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

"Unf."  Cooper's (NPC'd) off-hand comes off his gun in a reflexive warding motion.  "Mate, you really need to not do whatever the fuck that was," he warns the man in the wheelchair, taking a step forward to bring his muzzle even with the invisible line in the air.
This message was last edited by the GM at 13:23, Sat 13 Jan 2018.
James Choi
player, 395 posts
Special Agt, FBI HRT
Raellus
Sat 13 Jan 2018
at 18:58
  • msg #406

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


James' impatience wins out. "Your Jedi Mind Tricks won't work on us," he blurts out, realizing as he does so that he's talking out of his ass. Well, if his butt has already bounced the check, his mouth might was well add a few more zeroes. "We didn't come all the way out here to turn around, run home, and bury our heads in the sand. Why don't you tell us what the fuck this place really is, and then we can decide for ourselves how in over our heads we really are here."

-
This message was last edited by the player at 20:08, Sat 13 Jan 2018.
Sebastien Durand
player, 481 posts
DGSE
Dave Ross
Sat 13 Jan 2018
at 19:32
  • msg #407

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Durand's rifle is still pointed downwards. More or less. The tension feels tangible to the Frenchman. And is being fuelled by the sense that these dudes seem to be communicating with each other mentally. Something had happened. He had felt it briefly affect his vision, could taste something unfamiliar in his mouth. It had to be the circlet. Although whether it's granting him any particular protection from what Choi just called Jedi mind tricks is hard to say. After all, neither Choi nor Cooper seem to be affected either and neither of them are wearing alien circlets around their heads. The tinfoil? Really?

"Easy, everybody." The Frenchman's voice is low. His comment is at least partly addressed to the two old guys. He's also trying to watch how Dealer, Double Down, and Martinez are reacting. Just in case any of them do feel compelled to follow the old man's instructions.

"Maybe you're right." He's talking to the two old guys now. Choi's given them bad cop. Durand's trying to give them good cop. Or at least reasonable cop. "But think about it. If we can find out about this place and find our way down here then the chances are so can other people. I think you know who I'm talking about. You want to face them on your own and rely on mind tricks to protect yourselves? Or do you want to work with us?"

The Frenchman's eyes flick to Dacovetti. "Dealer, you want to draw your new weapon?" It's intended as a show of force, the circlet and the energy pistol both visible demonstrations that Grey Cell have seen faced their enemy. And won. Durand had heard an American Marine he'd served with in Afghanistan call it 'seeing the elephant.' Well they'd seen the elephant, had the scars to prove it. And the kills.

"Oh, and gentlemen, if you don't mind, let's have all the conversations in the open? My name is Sébastien Durand. This is a NATO operation. I'm in the French Army." That was the one thing that he'd said that was a lie. But if these guys were ex military he figured it might be a better option than I'm with French Intelligence.

"And you are?"
This message was last edited by the player at 20:23, Sat 13 Jan 2018.
Michael Dacovetti
player, 370 posts
Tech Sgt, JSOC JCU
keys138
Sun 14 Jan 2018
at 17:55
  • msg #408

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Presumably there is enough firepower in the corridor for Micahel to risk securing his primary weapon on its sling and pulling forth the plasma pistol from the modified drop-holster on his right leg.  His hands move slowly with deliberate calm and he doesn't point the weapon directly at the two men, more to to avoid looking through the eye-searing optic than to appear less threatening.

"This little weapon says 'hello' from the Crab Nebula," he says.  It's as good as any origin theory as any at the moment.
Tegyrius
GM, 787 posts
Sun 21 Jan 2018
at 19:10
  • msg #409

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

The man in the wheelchair sags back, seemingly exhausted.  His companion half-turns to him but he makes a go on motion with the hand that's apparently responding to his will at the moment.  "Scraps," he slurs, eyes fixed on the weapon in Michael's hand.  "You're scavengin' whs'left.  W'means they're active 'gain."

"Shit."  The standing man is leaning forward again, body language saying he's ready for a fight if the answers he gets aren't to his liking.  "Okay, son, you say 'NATO,' but that doesn't explain the psychic digger."  He jerks his chin at Cooper.  "And the enemy of my enemy isn't necessarily my friend.  No offense."  A humorless smile flits across his face.  "There's a lot of people who'd love to get their hands on us even if they aren't on good terms with our alien space brothers."

"So, monsieur Durand.  I'm Mark Branham.  Commander, US Navy, retired, ARPA, retired.  And NATO is not in my chain of command, so I'd really like a SITREP on Admiral Frye and Commander Ceelen and what the hell's happening with the Policy Liaison Group."

OOC: The Policy Liaison Group is Vest's office.  As he indicated in #345 of this thread: "he U.S. Navy intelligence component charged with monitoring current alien activity on Earth and maintaining security for Navy personnel who were involved in contact or research during the last period of incursions."
James Choi
player, 398 posts
Special Agt, FBI HRT
Raellus
Sun 21 Jan 2018
at 19:56
  • msg #410

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


Choi's impatience is in danger of boiling over. He was raised to respect his elders- filial piety is an integral piece of Korean culture. But there's no time to play games here. He's lost one too many teammates to give two shits about manners and etiquette right now. And talking to these old men is like talking to a wrinkly, sassy-as-fuck brick wall. He takes a deep breath: in through the nose (four-count); hold (four-count); exhale from the mouth (four-count). Better, but only just a bit.

"Someone's..." James starts, but then cuts himself off. "No! Extra terrestrials are assassinating your old coworkers. Admiral Fyre- murdered in a parking lot; Captain Albinson- in a fucking coma. The doctors removed an alien implant from his head; Celeen, we rescued him from a Russian hit squad working for the E.T.s. Miss Darnell Hawkins- we saved her from an alien drone. So, who's the enemy, Commander? We represent the people of earth. Who do you work for? This ain't no retirement home. What is this place and what are you doing here?"

-
This message was last edited by the player at 20:05, Sun 21 Jan 2018.
Sebastien Durand
player, 483 posts
DGSE
Dave Ross
Sun 21 Jan 2018
at 20:23
  • msg #411

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

"None taken." Durand murmured in response when the man who had just identified himself as Commander (retired) Mark Branham said no offence was intended.

"As to your questions, as Agent Choi has said it appears that the aliens that we both appear to be familiar with are trying to kill anyone linked to United States Navy Observation Squadron Fifty Four.  Our Task Force is protecting some of the survivors. We also have reason to believe that the Policy Liaison Group may have been compromised. Which is why we are here. Because the United States Navy is not in my chain of command." He's not mocking the American by turning his words back on him, merely making the point that if US Navy Intelligence has a leak then that doesn't affect his NATO team. He figured Branham could work the rest out by himself. If someone in the PLG knew about this place then other...people...might also know about it.

"So what is it going to be Commander? Are we going to, what is it you say, dick each other about until ET gets here? Or are we going to help each other?"
Cooper Williams
player, 126 posts
Petty Officer, RAN
Spartan-117
Mon 22 Jan 2018
at 08:07
  • msg #412

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

"ET wasn't inclined to confine his activities to the northern hemisphere Commander," Cooper said by way of explication of his presence.  "If you're worried I'm a Mad Max mercenary type recruited to find and blow you up, you can rest easy.  I'm Royal Navy; DIO liaison to NATO... seconded to this Task Force.  We're only going to have a problem if he says we are," Cooper nodded toward Durand.

"Assuming also that 'Wheels' here stops trying to mindfuck us," Williams added with a slight smirk.

Cooper shifted his attention and fixed his gaze with the man in the chair.  The RAN Clearance Diver's face tightened as a question formed, which he repeated, unvocalized, to himself as his eyes drilled those of the wheelchair bound man.  The interrogative grew heavy in Cooper's mind, almost like an echo, but instead of becoming softer each time, it grew both slower and louder with each repetition.

What is your name?
What... is... your... name...?
WHAT...... IS.....YOUR.....NAME?
WHAT...... IS.....YOUR.....NAME?
This message was last edited by the player at 08:14, Mon 22 Jan 2018.
Tegyrius
GM, 788 posts
Thu 25 Jan 2018
at 22:43
  • msg #413

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Branham blinks at James' explosion.  "Hawkins is still alive?  No shit.  If anyone was... huh.  No.  Okay."  He draws a deep breath, seeming to collect his thoughts.  "Ramón, I think it's time for us to come in from the cold."

The seated man doesn't respond at first - not outwardly, at any rate.  But to Cooper, there's a sudden rush of connection, distantly perceptible to Hannah as well.  :: Whoa!  Ease up there, son.  You gotta learn some finesse if you want to hang onto your frontal lobes. ::  There's a considering pause.  :: All right.  Me llama Ramón Rice.  And I think we'll need to talk later...  ::  The connection wavers with pulses of deep fatigue.

Aloud, there's a pause of a few seconds, then: "Yyyeah.  Why'n't you take that?  I'm 'bout done..."

With a faint snap of static electricity and displaced air, the invisible barrier dissolves.  Rice sags in his chair, apparently on the edge of consciousness.

Branham shoots his companion a concerned look, but whatever he sees isn't enough for immediate action.  He sighs.  "Okay.  You think you know VO-54?  This is VO-54."  He sweeps a hand around.  "This is where we keep what the visitors left of us.  You want to sit down somewhere more comfortable?  There's some other people you need to meet..."
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:43, Thu 25 Jan 2018.
Sebastien Durand
player, 484 posts
DGSE
Dave Ross
Sat 27 Jan 2018
at 21:59
  • msg #414

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Durand nods his head, lets his rifle hang down on its tactical sling until the barrel is pointed directly at the floor. "I think that would be a good idea, gentlemen. I also have a team upstairs -" A nomex gloved finger gestures towards the ceiling above their heads. "- if you don't mind I need to tell them that we are all good down here. It would maybe be best if you do the same with your people so that we do not have any misunderstandings above ground."

He's taking a calculated risk when it comes to OPSEC but they had already heard him communicating with someone on a short range radio and it's probably best if Vidry knows that he and his countrymen upstairs are not about to be attacked by a swarm of the things from Alien. Or the invisible hunter that had taken out Arnold's team.  And besides, it's in the old guys' interest as well. If their security did get into it with Vidry's team there would be casualties. Maybe on both sides, but definitely among the local security, Durand was certain of it.

So if there are no objections Durand will reach for his radio, opening the message with an agreed code so that Vidry would know he was not talking with a gun to his head, this time speaking in English so that the two elderly Americans would understand him and know he was not trying to deceive them. "Leopardfrog from Bullfrog. Authentication Zulu Zulu Nine. No sign of enemy presence down here. Stay alert but do not fire unless you are fired upon. Have the QRF continue to loiter. Over." He isn't about to order a full stand down, not yet.
Cooper Williams
player, 128 posts
Petty Officer, RAN
Spartan-117
Sun 28 Jan 2018
at 16:56
  • msg #415

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Cooper took a deep breath, as the connection to Rice ended.  He nodded to Ramón as Coop relaxed his posture and gaze.  Williams was very curious at Rice's powers, as well as what these men might have 'collected' here.

"So how long have you guys been down here?  In Belize I mean,"  the RAN Petty Officer clarified.  Staying off the grid for a decade or two took serious comment.  Coop wondered what there might be to stay entertained in such a place.  The diving is supposed to be great here. he recalled.  Perhaps they might have time, but first things first.  Grey Cell needed to know what these survivors of the last alien 'activity' knew.
Hannah Omdahl
player, 246 posts
CWO2, U.S. Army
dcoda
Mon 29 Jan 2018
at 10:19
  • msg #416

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Hannah frowned, her brow furrowing as she glanced between the man in the wheelchair, Ramón, and Diver.  Standing down with the rest of Grey Cell, her gun was no longer trained on the wheelchair bound individual.  But it was still held 'casually' in his direction.  Her auburn eyes darted back and forth for a moment as she could sense some sort of strange mental exchange.  She couldn't make out the contents, but the passage of information was obvious enough to her neophyte senses.

But then the fleeting sensation was gone.  Along with the palpable, but visually invisible, barrier that one of the men had tried to construct.  Double Down gasped slightly when it collapsed, feeling the resulting mental void particularly acutely.  The thin army aviatrix shook her head to clear the mental cobwebs and took in a deep breath to try and center herself.  Her shoulders shuddered lightly as Double Down exhaled, feeling some of the building tension released.

She held back standing just to the side of Williams, but couldn't hold her tongue and offered, "Commander Branham, sir, does Ramón require medical assistance?  We have a medic..."  A gesture of good will.  And perhaps a chance to have one of her people have a closer look at one their people.  Of course, that medic wasn't Painter; a thought which surfaced an unbidden, momentary pang of pain and regret to Hannah which she could only hope that the remnants of VO-54 weren't privy to.

As Bullfrog called of the dogs, and Diver engaged in casual conversation, Omdahl motioned for Commander Branham to lead the way.  She offered to push Ramón's wheelchair, but, obviously, didn't know where to go.

Or what to expect down here.  Curiouser and curiouser Hannah mused to herself; they certainly had entered Wonderland.  It just remained to be seen if they could keep their heads...
Tegyrius
GM, 790 posts
Wed 31 Jan 2018
at 00:26
  • msg #417

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Branham gives Hannah a considering look before responding.  "Thanks, but no.  He's just worn out.  Running the crystals takes a lot out of him these days.  I appreciate the help rolling him around, though.  Been here since before any of you were born, I think," he non-sequiturs, belatedly nodding to Cooper by way of addressing that answer.

He nods in the direction in which he and Rice were moving when Grey Cell met them.  "If you'll follow me, the conference room has a phone to the command post.  I'll get the Cazadores to secure their heaters.  I'm assuming," he glances over his shoulder at Sébastien, "you're not expecting any other company."

Branham indicates an about-face and leads the way down the left-hand (from the entrance) hallway to the door with the glass insert, which he opens.  Beyond it is a battered conference table made from what appears to be recycled high-school chemistry-lab bench tops bolted atop steel two-drawer filing cabinets.  A sideboard of four more filing cabinets supports a modern Cisco IP phone, two quiescent coffee makers, and a scattering of office supplies.  A dozen or so mismatched rolling chairs, their leather and vinyl hides scarred where they aren't wholly pierced, cluster around three of the table's sides.  Despite the dry-erase board hanging on one wall, the air holds a faint haze of chalk dust and the threadbare green institutional carpet has a slight yellow tinge where cigarette burns and coffee stains aren't evident.

"Park Ramón there, if you would, miss," Branham says, absently waving a hand toward the end of the conference table that hosts no chairs.  He picks up the phone and punches one of the speed-dial buttons.  "Carlos? Tenemos invitados. Invitados, no visitantes. Dígales a las patrullas que aseguren sus armas y que se reúnan en la sala de preparación."  He pauses and glances at the phone's time display.  "El código es uno, siete, uno, cuatro.  No. Estamos bien aquí abajo. Déjalos dormir."

He hangs up and turns back toward the group, but his gaze is somewhere over James' shoulder.  On that wall hangs a trio of framed photographs.  Each is a shot of a different large group of people, easily a hundred or more, mixed uniforms and lab coats and 1950s-vintage civilian attire, taken at night in front of an open aircraft hangar.  James picks out a much younger Darnell Hawkins at the end of one row, in front of what might be an equally-younger Mark Branham.

In each photo's background, the intake maws of two mid-century fighter jets - F-8 Crusaders, to Hannah's eye - gape open in shadowed screams.  Between the jets, behind the center of each group, something larger looms: a dusky bulk with uncomfortably-organic lines like a horseshoe crab's carapace.  It's kin to the shapes the team has seen in gun camera footage from an Australian sky, and lit by lightning and gunfire over Miami's suburban horizon.  Canopy glass and aluminum fixtures glint like embedded debris in its skin.

Branham swings a chair around and lets himself slide into it with a sigh.  "Mister Morrison, do you know the difference between a fairy tale and a sea story?" he asks James.  "A fairy tale begins, 'once upon a time.'  A sea story begins, 'no shit, there we were.'"  His faint smile creaks like a joke he's used a hundred times, rolled out again for a new audience.  "So, no shit, there we were."  He waves at the photos.  "And here we are.  A few of us.  Me, Ramón, four other guys.  The last of the collateral damage."  There is no humor at all in his grin, and his eyes glitter with a rising mania.  "Welcome to the black project psych ward.  The Navy promised it would take care of us but there are multiple ways to parse 'take care of...'"

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
Carlos? We have guests.  Guests, not visitors.  Tell the patrols to secure their weapons and assemble in the ready room.  The code is one, seven, one, four.  No.  We're fine down here.  Let them sleep.

Sebastien Durand
player, 486 posts
DGSE
Dave Ross
Fri 2 Feb 2018
at 21:38
  • msg #418

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Ensuring that his assault rifle is set to SAFE then leaning it against one of the filing cabinets that form the base of the table, Durand takes a seat, making sure that his rifle is within arm's reach. The Frenchman had half expected to be fighting his way through an alien nest by now, finds this situation more than a little incongruous as he looks around the room, noting the contrasts between the old in the form of the photos and some of the furnishings, and the new such as the Cisco phone. Glancing at the photos, he recognises the aircraft type, for his first assignment after enlisting in the Fusiliers-Marins had been aboard the aircraft carrier Clemenceau in 1993, when Le Clem had been in the Adriatic and its F8 Crusaders had taken part in operations over the former Yugoslavia. Durand would return to Yugoslavia several years later, take part in operations to snatch War Criminals, the first time that he had worked with the DGSE, had embarked on a path that would eventually lead him to Grey Cell.

That was all ancient history now of course. Although not as ancient as the story that these guys apparently had to tell. And so Seb Durand leans forward, his elbows resting on the makeshift table, his fingers interlacing, He's kept his helmet on. Quite apart from anything else that should make it more difficult for anyone to try and snatch the circlet that he's still wearing. Why the fuck would any of them want to do that? Who knows, but the Frenchman isn't letting his guard down, not yet. That's why there's a rifle resting against his leg, and a sidearm and a taser resting snugly in their respective holsters. Just in case. And he didn't need a degree in Psychology from the University of Strasbourg or be part way through a Masters from the Sorbonne's UPMC to tell him that Commander Branham had some issues.

"So why don't you tell us your story, Commander?"  Durand unclasped his fingers, let his hands indicate the Grey Cell team. "I'm sure we'd all like to hear it. Because as you've probably gathered, the aliens are back."
James Choi
player, 402 posts
Special Agt, FBI HRT
Raellus
Fri 2 Feb 2018
at 23:38
  • msg #419

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


James' Spanish, gleaned during his FBI posting in New Mexico, is just good enough- he hopes- to confirm that the old man hasn't just sold the visitors out. James nods to his teammates to indicate as much, as Branham replaces the receiver.

I hope this isn't Stockholm Syndrome, the former G-Man muses, putting himself between the seniors and the room's only entrance. Despite mounting evidence to the contrary, James is having trouble accepting that the compound in which he is currently an uninvited guest isn't swarming with freaky, hostile space creatures, or their quisling human muscle.

Breathe.

He's seasoned enough to realize that his body and mind are experiencing the unpleasant aftereffects that follow in the wake of adrenaline dump. Perhaps his unconscious, on behalf of his body, is still spoiling for a fight, jonesing for another hit of adrenal hormone. Despite the best efforts of the subterranean compound's straining ventilation system, James' scalp is still sweating profusely. He reaches up and wipes his damp forehead with the back of his multicam sleeve, remembering the space blanket lining his tactical brain bucket.

Breathe.

Durand's ably continuing the line of questioning, so James monitors the hallway through the lightly frosted pane in the door, watching the team's six as the meet-and-greet unfolds.

-
This message was last edited by the player at 01:48, Sat 03 Feb 2018.
Cooper Williams
player, 130 posts
Petty Officer, RAN
Spartan-117
Sat 3 Feb 2018
at 12:57
  • msg #420

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Cazadores... must mean Caçadores Cooper thought, trying to piece together the Spanish using his idioma Portugués.  The languages were close enough that he got the gist of what was being said.  In special reconnaissance and intelligence, getting the gist of an adversary's intentions was about all you could hope for.  Of course these VO-54 survivors weren't their adversaries.  At least, that is what Cooper hoped.  He didn't think it likely, so when Choi nodded to him and the others, Cooper gave a relaxed shrug.

Coop turned his attention to the picture of the U.S. Navy fighters and the bizarre alien craft.  "These things went extinct in Australia back in the Mesozoic era.  First time I saw one was Indonesia.  Horseshoe crabs I mean, not alien spacecraft," Cooper said.  He thought back to the engagement in the outback.

"Hey, maybe we can get Claw 15 out here," Cooper said to his teammates.  He realized that the VO-54 wouldn't have any idea who he was talking about.  "I think you guys would have a lot to talk about," he said by way of poor explanation, shifting his gaze between the fighter jets and Ramón in the wheel chair.  The last time Cooper had seen Claw 15's pilot, a man whose name he'd never been able to pry out of the black files, was as the aviator was being carried off the MEDEVAC bird on a backboard.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:00, Sat 03 Feb 2018.
Michael Dacovetti
player, 371 posts
Tech Sgt, JSOC JCU
keys138
Sun 4 Feb 2018
at 22:46
  • msg #421

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


With talking to strangers having been self-assigned to those in the assault most proficient at wringing the truth out of people, Michael finds a corner of the room where he can post himself.  The radio strapped to his back along with the body armor encasing his torso makes the airman a large physical presence, one that is difficult to park into a chair, and the threat assessment centers of his brain haven't dropped into the band that would allow him to take his pack off.  Instead, he moves into a corner, rocks on to his tip toes, leans back and lets the force of friction take some of the weight from his gear off his torso and put it on the wall with a drop of his heels.  Hands take a quick inventory of his equipment and, finding everything accounted for, settle to the top of the magazine holders on his vest, thumbs hooked into the mesh.

The GoPro strapped to his helmet he keeps angled towards the two men, recording the conversation for later analysis, should the situation go pear-shaped.  One ear listens to the conversation, the other waits for a blast of static or warning tone telling him trouble is on the way.
Tegyrius
GM, 792 posts
Thu 8 Feb 2018
at 02:10
  • msg #422

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

"It's a lousy airfoil but I don't think the visitors care much about aerodynamics." Branham tells Cooper.

He leans forward and props his elbows on the table, steepling his fingers and resting his chin atop them.  "You kids know the squadron's history.  The Navy shut it down in '63.  The body count was too high, we weren't getting results that human science could replicate in a lab, and visitor activity was ebbing."  His face hardens with long-held anger.  "So, of course, we were 'safe' to stop trying to build ways to fight them."  He cants his fingers at Sébastien.  "Which I'm sure you've had to do, judging by your presence," and he aims at Michael, "and your little war trophy there.

"The squadron survivors went back to wherever they came from.  But there were a bunch of us who weren't entirely," he pauses to select a word, "functional as officers or sailors after playing with the devil's toys.  They couldn't stick us in the VA system.  There wasn't anyone who could treat us and had the clearances to hear about our problems.  So while British Honduras was in the middle of getting its independence, the admiral got in touch with a few squadron guys who'd gotten out of the Navy and used them as cutouts.  They bought an island with the squadron's last slush fund and set up a treatment facility for us.  We've been here since '65.  Some of us are even functional, most days."  He bares his teeth in something that bad facial recognition software might process as a grin.

"After the Shag Harbor crash, the admiral convinced a few other people that the threat wasn't gone - just in remission.  And the only people qualified to continue with analysis and research were... already collected."  He disentangles his fingers and waves a hand around the room.  "They sent down a Seabee team.  Told them they were building a bunker for nuclear command and control.  It was plausible at the time.  They cleaned out the warehouse of all the logbooks and portable artifacts and sent them down here, and those of us who were able went back to work.  In... '83, I think, or '84, they found the Shag Harbor wreck and sent that to us, too.

"That was our last tasking from the admiral.  When he died, I don't think he left any notes for any successors to contact us.  We were a hole in the map.  George Frye was our last cutout.  He got his hands on the funding stream and made sure we were taken care of."  His eyes narrow.  "I thought he was running something on the side, but now it looks like he may have had some idea the visitors were back and didn't tell us.  He came down here last year, checked out a couple of crystals, and made backups of all our files.  He said it was for continuity in case we all checked out but now I wonder..."

He flattens his hands on the table and stares at Sébastien.  "Your turn.  How'd you get read into this mess?  And how bad has it gotten out there?"
James Choi
player, 404 posts
Special Agt, FBI HRT
Raellus
Fri 9 Feb 2018
at 20:54
  • msg #423

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


James chuckles dryly. FUBAR. "I'm not sure what kind of alien shit you had to deal with back in your day, sir, but I'd say things are... escalating. I met my first E.T. a about a year ago in Los Alamos. That was before I joined this outfit. Since then, we've tangled with E.T. in Libya, Australia, and Miami, Florida. Had a couple of shootouts, witnessed a couple of dogfights with your flying horseshoe crab things, even caught a live spaceman."

James pauses a moment, emotion threatening to derail his report, "And we lost a teammate." He made himself continue, more to distract himself from the feelings of loss and guilt that had just welled up than to illuminate his elderly hosts.

"Anyway, we think we have a leak somewhere. We've got another team trying to track it down and plug it, but there's a pretty good chance that if E.T. doesn't know about this place already, he- it, whatever- will soon."

-
This message was last edited by the player at 00:58, Mon 26 Feb 2018.
Sebastien Durand
player, 488 posts
DGSE
Dave Ross
Fri 9 Feb 2018
at 22:00
  • msg #424

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Durand had sat back as the Commander spoke, his eyes never leaving the man, idly wondering how long he had waited to tell this story. Nineteen sixty five. They had been here for over fifty years. Fifty years living underground. Hiding? That was one way of looking at it. Was that what was in store for him? For the rest of Grey Cell? Hiding underground somewhere, never knowing if today was the day that your enemy might find you? Fuck that.

"As Agent Choi says, Commander, the threat appears to be escalating. Things had gone quiet for a while -" Durand paused, recalled the dates that he had scribbled on a legal pad during the briefing " - specifically between 1979 and 2008." The Frenchman leaned forward. "Any guesses as to why they might have quietened down? And why they suddenly ramped up again? Our experts have no theories, so any light you might be able to shed on that would be very much appreciated. They also seem to be operating in association with various groups here. Terrorists, Russian mafia, other undesirables." 

Durand paused again. "Oh, and I don't suppose you can tell me exactly what it is that I'm wearing on my head, what it does?" As he spoke he reached for the chin strap on his helmet, slowly unbuckled it and placed it on the table in front of him, exposing again the circlet that rested on his head. "Are you familiar with it, seen one like it before?" Because I still don't know if my fucking head is about to explode.
Cooper Williams
player, 131 posts
Petty Officer, RAN
Spartan-117
Sun 11 Feb 2018
at 09:25
  • msg #425

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Shit, we need a slush fund, Cooper thought to himself as he listened to the story.  He thought about what life would be like in a similar setup on Turquoise Bay or perhaps a few of the smaller Indonesian islands.  Exy...  You need a lot of gorillias for that, mate, he told himself.  And to hopefully have all your marbles at the end of it.

Maybe Mewes had parachutes lined up for everyone, maybe not.  Cooper didn't know the man that well.  Either way, it was best not to leave such things to chance.  Karolina might be the canary in the coal mine, he speculated to himself.  Perhaps Crad as well depending on how buggered his arm was.  In Cooper's estimation, the arrangements Task Force 47 made for both would be very telling.

https://en.wiktionary.org/wiki...n_English_vocabulary
This message was lightly edited by the player at 09:25, Sun 11 Feb 2018.
Michael Dacovetti
player, 372 posts
Tech Sgt, JSOC JCU
keys138
Sun 11 Feb 2018
at 17:29
  • msg #426

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Muscles bristle and Dacovetti's jaw tightens, grinding his teeth together at the mention of the plasma pistol as anything as gauche as a "trophy."  He's not proud of the acquisition of the weapon.  He's relieved the team has finally acquired a piece of technology that lets them punch a little bit above their pay-grade.  What else was going to introduce a structural disturbance into the spaceship via a hand weapon?  The assumptions directed his way by a geriatric psychic with more than a few demonstrably screws loose causes the airman to undergo a systems check directed at his ego.  The report comes back, after a few deep breaths, that he's taking the phrase a little too personally. Perhaps that's due to disturbed radio connections with the outside world. But mentally unstable or not, Branham is kind of an asshole.

"And do you possess any more tech on-site we need to see?" he tacks on to Durand's question without shifting his position on the wall.

Somewhere out of sight, a clock is ticking that is diminishing our operational advantage.  Risk and uncertainty is growing to replace safety.
Tegyrius
GM, 795 posts
Sat 17 Feb 2018
at 15:53
  • msg #427

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

"Huh.  Los Alamos."  Branham frowns at James.  "So they're still interested in our nuclear program.  That probably means something but hell if I know what."  He shifts his focus to Sébastien and thinks for a moment.  "I can't say why they went into remission for those years.  I know what you need, but we were always an engineering unit.  Still are, really, if you stretch the definition to include this."  He taps his forehead.  "One of the guys - Ernswiler - was trying to build a picture of what they were doing on the ground, but he mostly had a file drawer full of newspaper clippings of Men in Black sightings.  I'll get you that.  It may have something that'll help but I won't put money on it."

He peers at Sébastien.  "Uh.  Heh.  That?  That's..."  He pauses, obviously searching for words.  "You know their ships are partially bio-engineered, right?"  An pause while he assesses the team's reactions.  His lips twitch in a slight smile.  "That thing translates psychic commands into inputs to what their ships use for nervous systems.  It's one of their fly-by-wire computer processors.  But when you break it, it flips to acting like a buffer to keep them from frying their little grey brains with feedback.  I'm assuming you broke that one, right?"

His eyes flash with renewed manic energy at Michael's question.  "You ever seen Buckaroo Banzai, son?  This is the lab with the watermelon.  You mind if I call you 'New Jersey?'"  It's clear he neither expects an answer nor cares what it is.  "You will want to see this shit.  Don't have one of those in the collection, though."  He points at Michael's appropriated plasma weapon.

Branham pushes himself back from the table and stands up.  "C'mon.  I'll give you the nickel tour."  He pauses.  "Oh, yeah.  If you want to evacuate us... I appreciate the sentiment but you really should get the data out first.  Jackson's on dialysis with a side of dementia, Van Horn is a vegetable with occasional telekinetic episodes, Owens is getting a daily chemo cocktail, and Ski is three-quarters gone with Parkinson's and doesn't really work on linear time any more."  He rests a hand on Rice's shoulder.  "Ramón here has one good stroke left in him before he's gone.  So, yeah, triage the hardware first."

He leads the way out of the room, assuming Grey Cell will follow him.  "We don't use much of the lab space these days," he narrates.  "We do what we can because it gives us a focus, but we're a bunch of senile old bastards who keep odd hours and don't have a lot of energy.  Owens and Ski - mostly Owens, now - are still plugging away at the math on anti-gravity.  Ramón and I were checking the crystal growth lab when you came in.  Most of the projects were always analysis and reconstruction of salvaged bits and bobs."  His voice goes harsh.  "We're a bunch of medieval monks trying to figure out a smashed Betamax.

"But we do have a couple of things you might want to take home."  He gestures at a reinforced door that bears radiation and laser warning signs.  "The Shag Harbor wreck had a working gun.  Neutron accelerator with a telekinetic sheath."  The grin he casts over his shoulder at Michael suggests bats and Gothic castles.  "Mind bullets, New Jersey.  Do you think the Russians have bigger mind bullets?  Do we have a strategic mind bullet gap?"

 He keeps walking.  "Telekinesis.  Memory editing.  'These are not the droids you're looking for.'  The 'Someone Else's Problem field' mode of invisibility.  Brain-machine interface.  I told you we were the black project psych ward."  The harshness is back, anger long-held and mostly self-directed.  "That's a joke.  'Psych' for '-ick' and for '-ological.'  We have both kinds of music, country and western.  We are a dessert topping and a floor wax."

At the end of the hall, another door looms, heavier than any the team has seen thus far, set in a frame that could probably withstand anything short of a light anti-tank warhead.  The stack of warning signs on the wall beside it is taller than the door itself.  Branham leans forward for a retinal scan, punches a nine-digit code into a shielded keypad, and undogs the hatch.  Beyond is a chamber just big enough for the entourage, then another identical door.

Branham ushers the team into the airlock, closes the first door, and pushes forward to repeat the process for the second.  He presses the handle down to retract the locking lugs but doesn't open the door.  Instead, he lightly rests his fingertips on it, then steps back and gives Hannah a faint smile and as much of a bow as the cramped quarters will allow.  "After you, young lady."

The door swings open at a touch.  Beyond is darkness, and the sound of dripping water, and the smell of ozone and the sea and old metal.

And in Hannah and Cooper's minds, the fringe of a vast and semi-feral presence, flickering through mad predator dreams of flight in a decades-long slumber.
Sebastien Durand
player, 489 posts
DGSE
Dave Ross
Mon 19 Feb 2018
at 16:03
  • msg #428

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Durand has no clue what some of the things that are being mentioned actually are. Neutron accelerator with a telekinetic sheath. They might as well be talking in Latin. Working gun and bullets he does get, although not what they mean by mind bullets. Hopefully Mike is following all of this.

As the descend into the belly of the whale the Frenchman wonders if these guys volunteered for this assignment way back when. Or were they detailed to it? At one point he’s tempted to ask but it probably doesn’t really matter. And what happens to them now? That one is above his paygrade but one thing is for clear, they’re back on the grid, whether they want to be or not.

And then they’re at the next stop on the tour. Maybe the last stop from the looks of it. The DGSE Operator can feel the hairs on the back of his neck rise up. He doesn’t distrust these old guys. But he doesn’t entirely trust them either. Maybe it’s a legacy of long years spent in the field. He looks through the door but he can only see darkness.

When Branham invites Hannah to go first Durand steps forward, places a hand on Omdahl’s forearm lightly, catches the aviator’s eye. ”If you don’t mind.” The elderly American may just be being chivalrous, but Durand isn’t about to let a member of his team walk in there blind, not when he can’t see what’s in there. ”Coop, on me, we’ll go first.” Durand then steps forward, across the threshold into the dark, his rifle at the low ready, his helmet still attached to his LBE, trying to strike some sort of balance not appearing overtly confrontational but also being ready to deal with anything unexpected.
Cooper Williams
player, 132 posts
Petty Officer, RAN
Spartan-117
Wed 21 Feb 2018
at 08:24
  • msg #429

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

"Aye," Cooper said.  As he passed by Hannah, he leaned over and whispered,"There's something out there.  Do you feel it too?"  He paused briefly for Hannah to respond, flipping down his NVG-bins as he did so.

"We own the night," he said, repeating a special forces mantra he'd heard on a joint US/Australian snatch and grab operation in Jakarta.  As his eyes adjusted to the soft green light of the AN/PSQ-36, Williams took a deep breath in.  The awareness he'd honed over the past months was quickly becoming akin to a sixth sense.  Like all senses, they were both a boon and a bane.  As with sight, hearing, or smell, sensory input could quickly invoke fear.  In the combat environment, that fear had to be channeled carefully or suppressed if needed.

Just as special operations troops learned to embrace darkness and overcome the overwhelming sensory cacophony of battle, Cooper and Hannah would have to overcome the fear induced by this new sensory experience.  From shallow water blackouts during dive school to gut wrenching HALO drops in full combat gear, Williams had acclimated himself to ignoring sensory input that told him to make it stop, to run away, to give up, and to panic.  He knew that as a pilot, Hannah had certainly done the same, overcoming the screaming protests of the inner ear.  This new sense would be no different.  It would be honed, it would be strengthened, and when it invoked fear, as it was doing now, it would be conquered.

"Ready," Cooper said as he moved parallel to Sebastien.
James Choi
player, 407 posts
Wed 21 Feb 2018
at 14:58
  • [deleted]
  • msg #430

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

This message was deleted by the player at 19:20, Wed 21 Feb 2018.
Cooper Williams
player, 134 posts
Wed 21 Feb 2018
at 19:24
  • [deleted]
  • msg #431

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

This message was deleted by the player at 21:57, Wed 21 Feb 2018.
Michael Dacovetti
player, 374 posts
Tech Sgt, JSOC JCU
keys138
Wed 21 Feb 2018
at 20:57
  • msg #432

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

"You can call me 'Little Miss Muffet,' if I get to see the sights," Michael says to Branham with uncharacteristic levity.  The voice an excited child waiting to see what Santa would bring.  Or a glimpse into the future for a sci-fi addict.

During the walk down the hallway, Dacovetti is practically vibrating.  For once the excitement coursing through his veins isn't from combat or coffee or sex.  It's closer to solving one of those engineering problems that would keep him up for hours, knowing the math would come if he could twist it just so.  This is revelation, he can feel it.  Not the chaotic uncertainty of combat with an unknown foe with crushing technological superiority.  This is how it works.  This is peeling back the curtain.  The promise of data and technological samples.

If they have time.

His weapons are almost forgotten with beckoning darkness.  He can't wait to be illuminated.
James Choi
player, 412 posts
Special Agt, FBI HRT
Raellus
Thu 22 Feb 2018
at 16:51
  • msg #433

Re: [IC] Chapter Three


Out of the blue and into the black.

James switches the IR spotlight attached to the foregrip of his Mk.18 and lowers his NOD monocular, happy for once not to be on point. Truth be told, he's afraid of what they might find in the pitch dark chamber beyond the doorway. As he passes Branham he pauses to ask, "What exactly are we going to see in there?"

-
This message was last edited by the player at 00:56, Mon 26 Feb 2018.
Hannah Omdahl
player, 248 posts
CWO2, U.S. Army
dcoda
Mon 26 Feb 2018
at 00:40
  • msg #434

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

The lithe army aviatrix listened with particular interest to all of the conversation about the 'research' going here.  Especially the part about the bio-engineered parts of the alien flight control systems.  It wasn't the first time that she'd heard reference to them.  And it sounded like the artifacts here might actually contain one (or at least part of one).  So, it was with more than a touch of curiosity that she followed the Commander on the tour.  Most of her skepticism with respect to the aliens, their artifacts and physiology, had pretty much dissipated in the barrage of overwhelming evidence.  Which only left a healthy dose of fear.  Branham's self-deprecatnig remark about monks and the betamax hit home.  Humanity, in general, was behind the eight-ball on this one.  Some of them (like Grey Cell and VO-54) just had had the wool ripped from their eyes with respect to the Truth™.

Hannah held up a hand to Durand's chivalry, hopefully halting Sébastien and Cooper's entry through the doorway.  She gave Branham a rather pointed look.  "A darkened room?  Really?" she muttered aloud, and took a deep breath while she stretched out with her mind.  Double Down knew that any sixth sense she possessed wasn't really going to respond to her beck and call, but she did have an inclination that if she defocussed slightly that she might be a touch more receptive to her surroundings.

Of course, the niggling fear scratching at the base of her skull told her that this might be a bad idea.  The fact that Cooper was sensing something as well on reinforced that flight mechanism.  Hannah felt a touch dumb not arming herself with either MP7 or NVGs.  But something told her that neither would be beneficial in this case.  She was reminded of the cave on Dagobah.  Luke: What will I find in there?  Yoda: Only what you take with you...

Ozone.  Dripping water.  Something predatory waiting.  Something wild looking to be freed.  She could feel the perspiration on her palms and the dry lump in her throat.  "Eyes wide open." the auburn-haired pilot intoned quietly as she fought to calm the rising tension and the flush of adrenaline.   Then Double Down pushed past Bullfrog and Diver, "Shall we, boys?"

And Hannah stepped into the darkness.
Tegyrius
GM, 803 posts
Sun 4 Mar 2018
at 22:33
  • msg #435

Re: [IC] Chapter Three

Branham stretches another one of those disquieting grins at James.  "The future," he replies.

Grey Cell steps into the darkness.

The chamber beyond the airlock's inner door is vast and echoing.  Seawater pools in the concrete floor's pits and depressions.  A slow liquid throbbing sound emanates from somewhere ahead.  Cooper is the first to recognize it as a pump.

On one of the side walls, a small constellation of indicator lights gleams from a complex collection of boxes and wiring conduits.  The green, amber, and red pinpoints barely illuminate the web of lines and hoses running from each wall to --

-- nothing at all, insists the visual cortex, confronted with an adamant absence of form.  Then the mediation of thermal imagers and night-vision goggles and slowly-awakening otherwise-sight sweeps the curtain aside.

The landing gear resolves first, a prosaic element on which the mind can find purchase.  Tricycle arrangement, single main wheels and a dual nose assembly beneath heavy oleos.  The retractable struts rise into shadowed bays inset amid a sweeping complex curve that stretches overhead.  Between the gear assemblies, a crew hatch yawns open, ladder extended in grudging invitation.

The ventral lifting-body surface is a blunt, round-tipped isosceles triangle, sixty or seventy feet on a side.  A pair of stubby vertical stabilizers angles outward above a tail unmarred by exhausts.  A hint of a fuselage rises from the centerline like the flare of a cobra's head framed by its hood.  There is no straight line, no angle, save for the landing gear and boarding ladder - near-obscene mechanical intrusions amid the organic curves.  Dark glimmers of the indicator lights' reflections pick out lenses set at intervals along the body.

The dream is stronger here as Hannah and Cooper step forward.  Half-glimpsed flashes of sea and sky flit in and out of memory.  Then a wary twitch through the cold and the darkness, and the presence rolls over in its sleep and cracks a slit-pupilled eye.  And makes a small noise deep in what passes for its mind and nestles back into the comfort of its slumber as it recognizes fellow predators.

And in Miami, another set of indicator lights flickers and changes as Karolina Kowalska cracks a blood-filled eye.

FADE TO BLACK

MUSIC: Unmarked Helicopters, Soul Coughing

CLOSING CREDITS:

Captain Karolina KowalskaSpartan-117
Sébastien DurandDave Ross
CWO2 Hannah Omdahldcoda
TSgt. Michael Dacovettikeys138
SA James ChoiRaellus
PO Cooper WilliamsSpartan-117
Cpl. Caradoc CreweTegyrius

This message was last edited by the GM at 22:42, Sun 04 Mar 2018.
Sign In