Post by #+h3 M!$+3r P@r@d0x on Apr 24, 2012 16:55:24 GMT -5
Data Lost... Recovering
[/size][/b]Recovered Account 20924-A[/color]
Tricell C-Chambers Security Monitor
Time Elapse: DELETED[/size]
Outside and Internal Source Code:[/color] BROKEN CODING LOGS[/color]
“ We are in fact in extremely dark times. The world is practically imploding on itself without a single savior to reach out to it with a… honest hand. Death, my friends. Death has become the one thing that has held humanity together and also torn it apart at the same time. The Un-living that plague are lands, streets, homes, and communities must be dealt with… of course. But, my dear people… We are more than capable of living on without the need to combat this threat entirely and consume so many resources to do so… Cities that you use to live in and raise your children in are no more than pages of past history… History smeared with the tainted blood of those that have brought this wretched existence upon us . The virus that plagues those Cities is much too far gone to be considered safe to raise a new Generation of Humans. We must not waste another life to these radical terrorists or mutated monstrosities,” The dapper Mr. Marlboro spoke loudly into the microphone, a microphone which was being broadcasted on a much listened to frequency. His voice never faulted or stuttered, his resolve being absolute, “ Evil men still have evil agendas. Umbrella Corp. and their followers still very much exist even in our small societies today. We have a fair count on who they are and what agendas they follow. They will be punish to the full extent of the law by a jury of their peers.”[/size]
Hammond Marlboro would address the microphone yet again, “ I assure you that Humanity will go on without the cause and effect of the T-Virus effecting our day to day. Those lost to this disease cannot be brought back, but those that have managed to survive the forefront of this ’Apocalypse’ must be aware that the time to make a stand for Humanity is now. This ’Secret War’ must come to a end and a victor will not be he who preys off the fears of others to make a personal gain… no. The victor will be he who has to complete support of the masses and provides shelter to those that seek it. No where is safe. This is why I must come to you all with the promise that safety will be brought to those who seek it. ASCENSION will be there to pick up Humanity and bring it to new heights. We will rebuild the world in a way that was never thought possible.”
It was at this point that Hammond had paused in the room in which he was performing this rousing speech to whomever was listening via radio broadcast at the time. A calm reach for the small glass of scotch was just the tip that seemed even more better when it met his gullet. Smooth and crisp. The casual approach soon faded as he was strictly business once more, “ The Crest of ASCENSION will be noticeable to all that are keen and the presence of ASCENSION will be known even to the blind. We are willing to give our lives to make sure that those that are trapped in the Ruins of Yesterday make safe travel to the Haven of today. Offer your services to those that bear this Crest and they will offer theirs to you.”
It was then that Hammond Marlboro switched the speaker to the OFF position before noticing the red blip appear on the LCD screen across from him. The constant flicker of the red blip showing that someone wished to hold some sort of communication relay face to face per say… or monitor to monitor was more like it. The quick key work of Hammond allowed the screen to no longer portray to red flicker but instead portray the static of a disrupted signal.
The voice that spoke from the other side was mostly familiar save a few clicks and pops. A urgent tone of voice to follow, “ Mr. Marlboro. This is Zachary Rydal from Assist Team Seventeen. It appears that the communities that were reported near Moscow have quite literally gone off the map. Someone beat us to it, everything at the coordinates sent is either ablaze or reduced to ash. We’ve lost seven men to a unknown gunman or gunmen and three to the infected. The eight of us are in pretty good shape considering the circumstances that we are facing… but we would very much like to vacate.”
Marlboro switched his com on with a simple tap, his voice being heard by the initial speaker, “ What is pass phrase Mr. Rydal?”
The time it took for Rydal to speak was immediate, “ OMNIOUS.”
It was then that the monitor in front of Hammond began to close the link between Mr. Rydal and himself. Instead, a new image was forming on the monitor that showed the outlying area of the Moscow Region that Rydal had spoken of. A few well placed zooms made way to the face of the man as the bullets began to pour from multiple angles across the area. Where once Mr. Rydal stood now was a corpse riddled with high caliber rounds that penetrated through the cold weather combat armor. Another series of zooms scanned over the now dead bodies of the rest of the team in the same armor variant. It was then that Hammond, zoomed out to notice the ice covered machines that had been placed by a previous team had worked out marvelously. One key word bringing the entire team to their knees and death in less than a seconds time. Hammond clicked the scanning process out as the mechanical turrets dug back into the ground and out of sight under the thick snow. Blood melting a bit of the snow before fusing with it like a strawberry snow cone. Mr. Rydal was now dead. The team had failed according to records… and Underground Umbrella Operatives were to blame according to the publics eye.
Hammond would then switch his com system over to dispatch, “ Team Rydal has not responded in some time… Send someone to check on them? Roger?”
He did not wait for a response for he knew it would be carried out.
The twisted demeanor of the man was hidden by a nearly emotionless expression as he flicked the broadcast tuner back on to listen to the playback of his previous message.
‘Failure has never been and will never be a suitable option,’ The man had thought to himself as the smooth scotch streamed through his lips and down his throat once more, ’ These people need salvation, even if it means putting a bullet in the head of every man, woman, and child for the greater good of MY future. Every one of them could become one of THEM at any point and time. A liability… a threat. They scramble about their meaningless lives to bring some little bit of happiness into their shatter existence and for what? The what is to watch as everyone they have ever loved… die… in glorious fire. They will bow before the future or be consumed by it. The flames of purity will rise from the ashes of yesterday and with it will come a barrage that will bring what is left of this decrepit civilization to it’s knees. They have not yet witnessed horror… not yet… but oh… they will.’
Hammond Marlboro closed all communications as his previous message was looped over and over again on a single radio frequency. The finely decorated Tricell Office behind him was littered with the white coats and fancy attire of his formal employees for the specific branch location. Each one of them lined against the wall by rank, various means of death painted on their now morbidly expressionless faces. Each one of them once had a purpose, to serve for a better tomorrow by acting noble today. WRONG! Now each one of them has experienced the smooth yet vile means of death that no man goes without experiencing at least once. Each one of them nothing more than meat puppets that once carried out the wishes of their former MASTER. Each one of them now nothing more than a lost page in the history of that which is Hammond Marlboro. And the sad, well not so sad, but awkward part was that he paid them absolutely no mind as they festered and began to rot beneath the skin. It was only a matter of time before history was to repeat itself here as it did everywhere else in the world. The dead would soon rise to consume the living… and by that time… Hammond Marlboro would be the Poster Child for a group made to save the world… by burning it to the ground with a war never dreamt of.
A few quick taps to the door and in entered one of Mr. Marlboros most loyal servants, simplified by means of mind control and stupefied by means of failure to complete the project. The man was pale and nearly decrepit while he stood with keys in hand. A suitable course to the freshly risen that would soon be making their debut. Hammond simply upholstered his weapon and quickly plugged the failure in the forehead, spewing brain matter across the wall like confetti bursting from a tube. The body crumpled to the floor lifeless save a few spasms… then poof… dead. Hammond would then step over the man and make his way out of the line of the cameras sight while whistling in tune to a favorite melody.
The End is only the Beginning.