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Reply 08 Level 0 - The Red Zone (archive)
Spirit Operations Unit Leviathan (L3 | Open | SF/Fantasy) Goto Page: [] [<<] [<] 1 2 3 ... 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 [>] [»|]

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Mr. Blackbird Lore

Dapper Codger

PostPosted: Wed Apr 25, 2012 1:14 pm
Uso, who had yet to step out of the chamber, was torn from his reverie by the sudden sighting of a... a something. Then the doors slammed shut, which couldn't be a coincidence. Oh, so that's how we're playing now is it? Another test after giving him a false sense of security, it seemed. Jake would play along- and win; he always did. He smirked.

Jake approached the curious white ghost. "Hey!" he called out, trying to grab its attention. Despite his initial feeling that this was a test, it seemed to behave far too nonchalantly. The brawler had difficulty believing this apparition was a malicious being of any sort. Still, best to err on the side of caution.  
PostPosted: Wed Apr 25, 2012 1:18 pm
"Not a test, Mr. Uso" Rachel warned tersely over the com. "I suggest you keep distance and not provoke it." Then she glanced back at Richard. "I am beginning to think your hallucinations are not so hallucinatory as previously assumed Mr. Bender," she told him almost casually save for a hint of tension to her voice before she looked back to the chamber.

"Is it trying to communicate, Uso?" she asked over the com again even as she flicked switches to prepare the flamethrower for another blast, aiming it to a corner away from the lab tech cowering by the door.  



PostPosted: Wed Apr 25, 2012 1:33 pm
The white phantom pressed a hand to the ground. Pink lines flowed out from its hand, forming a sigil upon the ground. It then stepped back and gestured around the chamber.  
PostPosted: Wed Apr 25, 2012 1:48 pm
Uso's interest was piqued when the symbol was formed on the floor. He thought he knew what it was, and logic suggested he was probably right. Mind you, it was very subjective logic, but that's how Jake worked: subjectively.

Recalling the intent of Signs, Jake went out on a limb and slid his foot onto it, calling out. "Yes, he is. He's using Signs- like the ones I told you about in The Frontier. Except this one has a set location, ours were directly sent."

Place? the idea popped into his mind as an inquiry. Jake smirked. How... simple. "The blast chamber. It's where we test our abilities." To give an example, he requested a small spurt of flame and a lone target. The flame he absorbed and then flung at the target, then looked to the ghost for a reaction.

It placed another sign. Hear. It seemed that signs could also be used to send negative or negated ideas.

After a brief deliberation, Jake crafted his own Sign- Evaluation- and then gestured to the target he had incinerated to make his prior example.  

Mr. Blackbird Lore

Dapper Codger


PostPosted: Thu Apr 26, 2012 10:29 am
Rachel arched a brow at the mention of signs and leaned over the panel to try and get a look, but she wasn't able to see anything (being non-Illuminated). She blinked when Uso requested a flare and target but flicked the switches to give it then went back to curiously observing. After the ghost seemed to make another sign in response to Uso's explanation then the man didn't respond in words she pressed the com and asked a bit tightly, not liking to be left out of things, "What's it saying?"

Jake glanced over his shoulder to answer, "Wants to know what this room is. And it can't hear, only communicates via Signs."

"Fascinating. . ." the doctor mused arching a brow slightly and considering a moment before pressing the com and leaning over slightly to ask, "Can you touch it?"

Uso attempted a very slow and curious gesture that would have been something akin to a handshake, but his hand passed straight through the ghost's. "No ma'am. He's incorporeal."

The white phantom continued it's investigation - the faint appearance of a mouth smiling was visible through the back of its head when Uso's hand passed through it. It poked at several of the blast chamber's implements.

Believing all this poking about to be an inquisition, Jake began making Signs for each. Flamethrower. Tesla. Acid. And so forth.  
PostPosted: Mon Apr 30, 2012 5:57 pm
The white phantom nodded at this knowingly. It seemed to be gaining an understanding. It then moved over to the door and inspected it.

An administrative assistant brought Doctor Miles a clipboard detailing a set of imminent transfers to Team Seven.  



PostPosted: Mon Apr 30, 2012 8:58 pm
Rachel had been watching Uso with the ghost so when the assistant walked in with a clipboard she snapped at him for it and set him rather roughly on his way before glancing at what he thought was so damned important to interrupt her work. What if something interesting had happened while she was distracted? For the reason exactly did she only give the document a glance before looking back to the room with a furrowed brow as she watched the ghost inspect the door. Transfers. Just what she needed, more unknowns to go off all half cocked and get people killed.  
PostPosted: Thu May 03, 2012 7:44 pm
The white phantom, it seemed, had lost most of its interest in the room. As it was not let out into the rest of the base, it clasped its hands together and disappeared.

The incident caused quite a stir, but Team Seven soon found itself caught up within intensive training; after Eamon was taken on a quick free spirit hunt (having been the only one who had not gotten at least one of the minions the day before) he found his mind much more clear than it had been.

The team was joined by Clarissa Ann Shiffer, pioneer of alchemy; Briar-Rose Indigo Coover, a physicist enchanter; and Dr. Sarah Schraeder, who... was definitely something. Additionally, one of SOUL's rare medical specialists was briefly on-site to revive Cress Farrar, who made a speedy recovery from Clinically Brain-Dead to Clinically Fabulous. He was informed of all the Fun Things he had missed; on the other hand, he had remained largely free of the blame for what had transpired.

They spent seven days in combat drilling inside the base, only interrupted by the necessary breaks for food, water, resting, and soul consming. At the end, they knew each other's tactics better than they knew each other's names, a fact mostly related to that they hadn't had enough time for a proper introduction and Damien was determined not to let the last mission's incident repeat. His confidence was not particularly bolstered by an incident where, while trying to teach Doctor Rachel Miles how to shoot she managed to shoot Eamon... who, at the time, was behind her. Luckily, the healer had not left the base yet.

On the eighth day, they were sent in small units to feed before instructed to the garage; a nearby SOUL operative had called for extraction and identity confirmation, and the task had been delegated to them. Those who passed by the armory were instructed that their headsets would be with Damien at the garage. Several of the new transfers - particularly Cress, Clarissa, and Briar-Rose - were finding themselves deployed for actual major field operations (rather than just hunts) for the first time in quite some time (or even ever). Nonetheless, Damien had just enough confidence to allow Doctor Miles into the field with them for her studies.  



PostPosted: Thu May 03, 2012 10:28 pm
This would be Rachel's second field mission and her (lack of) performance in the training exercises could not have the others happy about her tagging along, particularly Eamon who she shot on top of having had administrative differences with after the first mission. The rest of the team had only seen her stumble, fall, break heels and nails, throw her shoes at them, and sit down to quit. Her only redeeming quality in the field was a sharp tactical mind and that only went so far without the basic ability to run.

Still, she reported promptly and in her usual designer skirt suit and high heeled shoes. The others were used to this attire by now having never seen her in anything less either in field training or in her office for the counseling sessions she'd given each one of them at least once over the last week. It could almost be assumed the sessions were her attempt to win back some respect for her poor performance in the exercises. She wasn't a field operative by a long shot but she was a damn sharp psychiatrist - possibly lacking a little in bedside manner but made up for it in thorough professionalism.

Today was no different. She wore that cool calm just like her ruffled blouse and didn't let the fact that she was going out in the field again bother her. This was only a pick-up mission anyway, no need to be worried. They would drive out to wherever they were going, pick up some poor b*****d, and come back - simple. It might even give them a little time to talk on the way.

The group hadn't had any time for socialization, despite her recommendations that they not only allow but require it. Knowing a person's combat tactics were important of course but not more than knowing the person. She was glad they would have some time to talk, get to know each other hopefully, before being sent after anything real.

And so she lingered in the garage by their transport vehicle, waiting for them to gather with a polite little smile on her painted lips, hoping they would talk on their own but ready to prompt them to it.  
PostPosted: Fri May 04, 2012 2:00 pm
The week had not been particularly eventful for Strings. He had kept his eyes on Uso the whole time, and especially on Dr. Miles. He had hunted when necessary, and as always, had treated eating souls the way he treated regular hunger: when it gnawed, he fed it. It was delicious, and a better, calmer high than the addictions of his past life. It was inspiration to play, at least. A sort of bubbling warmth, as the thing struggled, or appeared to, and then settled. His world would... pulse... with the rhythm of the fading life as it integrated into his personal harmony, until it was fixed in his own pattern, for his own purposes.

On the training grounds, he could not deny occasional feelings of uselessness. Years ago, he had been a heavy-hitter. He had been mobile, and especially when hopped up on... whatever the drug of the month happened to be... he had been more than a little motivated. Now, he was a tool and nothing more - a turret to be installed and broken down - and watching the vivacity of these other recruits, some of them so young, made him wish he had his feet again. He had never augmented his body as others had, pouring his entirety into perfecting his craft. Now, he wished he had. Hm. Perhaps he should have learned violin, instead. He put that on his mental list of things to ask about.

Strings was not entirely sure why he was assigned to this mission. Maybe he would ride on top of the van, or something? It didn't seem to him like a mission that required someone of his specialty, but perhaps it was more a matter of having everyone together, than having everyone be effective. He mentally shrugged as he walked into the feeding chamber, took his meal, and then entered the garage, bearing his instrument case next to him, again wearing his faded, tweed coat and bowler cap, and nodded slightly to the doctor. "Dr. Miles," he said, a little surprised he had remembered her name. He met her eyes for a moment, his own expressionless, and stood his case up. It had, by now, been reinforced with no small quantity of steel, and so while heavier, was less likely to be shot through.  



PostPosted: Fri May 04, 2012 10:23 pm
The week following her transfer proved to be difficult for Briar - she was a scientist, not a soldier. Regardless, she did her best to keep up with the others which resulted in a rather unimpressive display. It became clear by the second day, when Briar panicked and threw a loaded handgun at her CQB sparring partner, that she would perform poorly in direct combat. As a result Briar was allowed to focus more on shooting things from a safe distance. It was the perfect opportunity to fully test the MAC, which provided an excellent substitute for the lab time that she was being denied that week.

When it came time to go out on the field for something other than feeding, Briar nervously made her way to the garage after stopping by the armory to pick up the MAC. It was a simple extraction mission, but it was also her first ever mission. Though she had been with Soul for at least a couple of years, she kept mostly to the labs and only took to the field to occasionally feed. She honestly couldn't think of any reason why they would put her on the field. She didn't belong there; she lacked the skill that others had and her powers weren't designed to be used offensively.

She took a deep breath and reminded herself that she was assigned the role of a sniper, allowing her to put the MAC to good use. She would be far away from danger. She hoped.

Briar found her way to the garage and approached the group and nodded nearly imperceptibly at the fellow operatives that had already formed. She stood with her back to the vehicle and cradled the MAC in her arms. She shuffled her feet and kept her head lowered. She began to hum a soft tune barely audible to the others and her shuffling stopped. She paused briefly, tugged her tie loose, unbuttoned the top button of her shirt, cleared her throat, and continued.


Richard showed up shortly after Briar. The week had gone by smoothly for Richard. He always enjoyed exercise and it also fulfilled his desire to learn how to work with his team; something that should have happened before they were ever sent out in the first place. While the others trained with their soul powers to some extent Richard, due to the nature of his ability, did not. This allowed him to focus more on traditional combat tactics and how to best compliment the team's abilities. Occasionally while the others were practicing with their powers and Richard had nothing structured to practice, he would study a single teammate to better understand their abilities. He made an effort to do this at least once for each member of the team and then would discuss tactics with them.

Richard walked over the the group that had formed and stood facing the vehicle with his arms crossed. He glanced at everybody in the group and nodded deliberately in greeting. He had brought nothing more than his sidearm for the simple extraction mission, expecting it to go off without any unpleasant surprises. Richard uncrossed his arms, drew his sidearm carefully, and began performing weapon checks to pass the time.  
PostPosted: Sat May 05, 2012 5:41 pm
Clarissa walked into the garage with a barely repressed sigh. It had been a full week of working with these new people, and it had been a rather interesting experience. Perhaps the largest perk of this new assignment? No paperwork. Someone else would have to deal with the request forms while she was gone. Even better, no more complaint forms or threats to deal with.

She walked up to the group, gave a quick hello, and leaned on the vehicle. What else was there to do but wait? Besides, no one seemed to be in a chatty mood. Clarissa was not going to be the first to ruin the quiet.  



PostPosted: Sat May 05, 2012 7:07 pm
Eamon arrived next, rubbing his bruised shoulder. The doc's inability to shoot in a cone, let alone a straight line, was extraordinarily troublesome to him. She wouldn't be borrowing his pistol in the field, that was for sure. And then Briar, the new team-member, had thrown a loaded gun at him. He was unimpressed to say the least. Too many support specialists, not enough direct combat units. Strings and Uso had actually given him quite a lot to look forward to, though. Eamon was worried about what he thought was a lack of self-confidence in Strings, and equally worried about Uso's overconfidence, but he was still firmly a believer of Uso's theory. There was still a lot to assume, even with the White Phantoms, but it was a set thing as far as Eamon was concerned.

Approaching the car, Eamon nodded to its occupants. "Ev'ryone ready ta go?" he asked. He wasn't sure if his reinstatement was official yet, but again, it was a set thing as far as he was concerned. And this time he was gonna do it the right way.  
PostPosted: Sun May 06, 2012 1:53 pm
That week, while largely uneventful for everyone else, set two things in motion for Jake Uso: the first was that he began to feel that tug- that desire for his previous level of power; any uncertainty that he could not achieve that prior state began to weigh on him, began to push him toward more violence. It was easily recognized and easily controlled- for now.

The second was that he began to realize his feelings about his teammates were, for the most part, extremely polarized. Rachel didn't belong in the field and he dreaded her presence there; Eamon would be reliable despite his ugly rap sheet; Farrar seemed fairly useless beyond negotiations and enchantments, which meant he was meant for boardrooms and raids- not open combat (i.e. their current mission); Richard, while having set a miserable first impression, rectified that over time as the two worked together and came to understand each other's play style; Nathaniel was... irksome, and gave Jake plenty of strange stares that made the shorter boy want to punch his lights out; Strings! How could he have almost forgotten!? Strings was the blatantly obvious counter to Uso- or in the case of teamwork, his perfect balance: Uso was best with single opponents while Strings had crowd-control, Uso was a melee fighter while Strings could hold range, and where Uso was brazen, Strings was calm.

Now, the new people. They hadn't inspired much hope either. Schraeder was an interesting woman, if nothing else, and Jake found himself wanting to know a little more; Coover struck the boy as unreliable, given her fiasco with the pistol; Schiffer, while more level-headed seemed just as unhelpful with the ability to- wait for it!- make potions. All in all, not a very powerful bunch in strict terms of firepower. It left a lot of the heavy lifting to just a few individuals- Jake Uso among them.

These things he pondered as he walked to the garage. He was half-tempted to deploy the teleportation trick again, but refrained. No point in drudging up the Terminal again, or arguing fruitlessly with his teammates. When he walked in and saw all those demure faces, Jake was feeling rebellious. With a smirk plastered on his face, he practically- no he did- skip across the room to join his team in the slowly forming circle of bodies. "What? You guys just see a cat get run over or something?" He glanced at Strings then, his smirk disappearing just long enough for the boy to proffer a respectful nod, then resurfacing as his eyes searched the others present.

As was typical for the brawler, he wore nothing more than a plain grey tee, black shorts, and black, unlabeled sneakers.  

Mr. Blackbird Lore

Dapper Codger


PostPosted: Sun May 06, 2012 8:14 pm
Strings observed the rest of the crew come in, one by one, and was more than a little disappointed by the silence. It made sense, he supposed, but he knew in his heart of hearts, from all his work in his past life, that even amongst the most hardened people, comradeship could save a team. Therefore, Uso's buoyant entrance was a balm to him, despite his lingering distrust of the boy. In contrast to the youngster's sudden gravity, Strings nodded to him with a smile crinkling his pallid features, and responded in his gravelly voice as he followed Eamon, "No. Just a team of nihilists." It was uncertain if it was intended to be a joke or not - even to Frederickson himself.  
08 Level 0 - The Red Zone (archive)

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