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Post by UndeadDeadGuy on Jul 3, 2007 14:33:55 GMT -5
V2
This is a fleet of Umbrella Ships which conduct research on the ocean. Ever moving to avoid detection, it's hard to find this fleet of ships. The fleet consists of two oil tankers, three research ships, and enough destroyers to keep away any country's navy.
The research ships have three levels. The top is for the bridge and living quarters, the second level is for research (and are usually laboratories) and the third is for storage of their subjects.
You must notify me if you plan to RP here.
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Post by thegunny on Mar 27, 2009 19:22:57 GMT -5
Garret Mihailov BioScott Joseph Bio--------------------------------- The 13 men waiting on the two newcomers coming direct from the carrier watched as the MH-53J III pavelow landed on the helicopter pad on the back of the Umbrella cruiser, a decommissioned Royal navy Tiger class helicopter cruiser. The two personnel piled off, and were immediately greeted by the other two intelligence operatives with the lead Loki member with them---- Captain Garret Mihailov. The lead Odin agent was one of the other two intelligence operatives, Captain Jack Penkin. Captain Jack Penkin reached out and shook both of their hands politely, greeting them withWelcome aboard Maam, and welcome to the task force. I'm Captain Jack Penkin and this is Captain Garret Mihailov, we're the commanding officers for this operation. You'll however be working with a team relatively independent of us, so don't worry about that. Come on down, we'll get you situated. We've got a rather long trip, and we have some extra work to do before we're able to go ashore.Garret Mihailov merely grunted when Penkin mentioned being independent of them--- Mihailov was in overall command of the Loki escort element with them, while Penkin was merely the senior amongst the 3 Odin intelligence operatives here. He didn't feel that the 4 men that would be attached to her would be independent of his command, and was hesitant to throw his immediate subordinates out and le tthem work independently. That wasn't his style, though it could be very normal for the T.F.P. 5 of them walked into the inside of the cruiser, and once they stepped into a private(and bug free, sound proofed) chamber, Mihailov moved off to the corner and sat down in a chair, leaning forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees, and joining his hands in front of his head, resting his head lightly on them(In a thinker pose almost, except with both hands and looking dead ahead at the rest of the people). There was a single table in front of them, and several chairs around it. Penkin didn't motion for them to sitWe won't be in here very long, just a quick word. We're going to have to rearm and retrain you two real quick over the next several days. The weapons you brought will be stashed away. We'll be going in full ruskie, no questions asked. I like your thinking though Ericson... I don't trust these Umbrella pricks either. I wouldn't have come here and trusted to get time to train with the new firearms either. My apologies Maam, but command saw it in the operations and task forces best interest to train you first with T.F.P weapons before they shipped you out. It would make it seem like you were indeed being posted in Alaska, and it would set you up for post-operation work as well. We have a week before we'll be going in. We'll be going real slow and staying in international waters near Antarctica for half a week, before we spend the last several days going near Russian waters. There, N.A.T.O airstrikes will hit the area we plan to go into, and wipe out their ability to monitor us going in. Then we'll link up with the C.I.A agents there, and secure our safehouse and begin operations. Heres our list of weapons available. We'll be training by firing off-ship at rubber-ball buoys which the Umbrella crew will fire off into the sea to serve as a firing range for us. Garret Mihailov spoke up, his raspy deep gruff voice penetrating the silence that followed Penkin finishing his sentenceEricson, take your pick.Penkin was going to let Evarhart choose first, but Mihailov intervened according to how he viewed it should be done... Loki team(Which now included Ericson) would be the ones doing the fighting, and very possibly, dying on this operation. He felt Ericson deserved to look at the list and say what he wanted to be trained on more then Evarhart. Penkin, theoritically an equal to Mihailov, didn't disagree strangely. There was a creepiness about Mihailov... and not just because of the tone of his voice or the way he carried himself. Just something... creepy. Plain and simple. To Penkin there was much more then this as a reason that he didn't countermand Mihailov, but the reason was a reason so classified that no one else in the room knew why he wouldn't put Mihailov in his place. Evarhart going before her assistant was the regulation wise proper way, so Mihailov's argument was weaker then Penkins, and based essentially on sentiment and emotions. Or just plain Mihailov wanting to show he had the reins. Ericson shot Mihailov a glance, then a sideways glance at Evarhart as if saying sorry, then looked at Penkin who had barely suppressed his shrug and turned it into a nod. Ericson looked down and pointed at the MP-443 Grach, SR-2M Veresk, and KS-23, and announced each one of them.Gimme that MP-443 sidearm, the SR-2M as my secondary, and the KS-23 to replace my .50 beowulf.Ericson was a heavy weapons specialist--- although the Vz.58's more then filled in for his .50 beowulf M4, he still felt he was obligated to get something bigger then the others. Mihailov growledDone. Now you maam. He pointed a finger at Evarhart, and Penkin pushed the list forward towards her. I recommend a combination of the PP-2000, Siaga 12, SR-2M Veresk, or the MP-443. Pick em out and then go get to training with them... step out of the room, walk to the right, room to the left, the weapons and ammo are stored there. Then go to the starboard side, the former Umbrella sailors are ready to launch the buoys.
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Post by Mikey on Mar 29, 2009 5:11:14 GMT -5
The sound of the spring loaded launcher being fired was heard, followed by comeplete silence. It almost seemed as if the waves of the ocean were stifleing their sounds as well. Just for this one occasion. The bouey bobbed up and down on the calm water, and all was silent and peaceful.
BANG!
The bouey exploded as a large 7.62 round peirced its side, exited the other, and generally destroyed it. Scott Joseph held the Vz.58, looking through the attached scope, and never took his eyes off the water. "Pull." He said calmly, just loud enough for the man working the launcher to hear. The sound of the spring being released was heard again, and the next bouey was set free.
Scott had been up here for the past hour getting used to this new rifle. True, he was trained with just about every type of weapon imaginable and had knowledge of about every specific weapon in the world, but none of that did him any good if he didnt know anything about this weapon he was using. It could curve the bullet to the left, it could fly straight, it could even flip the bullet around and shoot him in the ass for all he knew. Not until he tried it.
He now knew everything there was to know about this weapon. The Vz.58, a remake of an AK-47. It acted like an AK-47 in every way, except that it's accuracy over a long range did not quite dip as badly as a real AK. This particular model was used only with 30 round magazines, had a threaded barrel for a sound supressor, a mounted X3 magnification scope, and an attached 40mm grenade launcher. Not too shaby.
The weapon fired once more and another bouey was destroyed as Scott continued his target practice.
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Post by thegunny on Mar 31, 2009 7:44:38 GMT -5
OOC: Evarhart?
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Post by thegunny on Apr 7, 2009 21:03:48 GMT -5
Everyone finished up the last details of the mission, and the ship positioned itself beyond the range of the remaining operating ground to sea radars on the lookout for ships beyond the Northern Russian Barent sea coast.
The area they were preparing to land in still had a Russian military presence, but it was a rear echelon which was practically a skeleton crew... which still was responsible to forwarding supplies to the Russian-N.A.T.O front, and still had access to the Russian chain of command. That meant they still had information they could steal, or communications they can intercept. That combination is what attracted the Western forces to the area. They'd scoped the area and confirmed that there was a ranch they could use that the Ruskies had left alone and deemed too low of a priority to clear of the infecteds present. The only thing standing between the black ops team and its C.I.A support team was the Russian anti air and radar systems.
The N.A.T.O forces dealt with that though. N.A.T.O bombers and fighter-bombers left the N.A.T.O areas of operations and made their way safely through their cloak of electronic countermeasures to ensure they circumvented Russian A.A, and then hammered the region in question's radar stations back to the stone age. The pilots and aircraft had been handpicked for the deep strike, and for bad weather... and they knew they were going to have a s**ty time getting there and back regardless. The night and storm finished covering the MH-53J Pavelow as it swooped in through the darkness, landed on the ranch, and the team dismounted. The Pave low had taken a route to ensure it would evade anything other then the undead... or at least, evade Russian forces completely. That was what they were mainly concerned about. The zombies all around them on the ranch(9 of them) started to stumble towards the team. Garret... who was in charge in matters of security for the team... immediately barked out
Suppressors up! Eliminate the hostiles!
Everyone had Russian night vision goggles, and were able to see despite the darkness and the bad weather.
NOW IN RUSSIAN STEPPES
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Post by Le Dark Wolf on Feb 12, 2011 2:36:00 GMT -5
[Prologue: Seizure of Power] Day One: Operation UU Hour: 0400 Atlantic Ocean The sun had gone dark, and the sky was dim. Clouds came as a harbinger of rain. Droplets felled, like tears from an unseen and uncaring god. Relentless waves of seawater turned and tossed, dancing below the glimpse of a barren moon. A hail of wind blasted across the heavens, followed by the quick and sudden strikes of thunder. It smelled of crisp rain, jet fuel, and dead men. Jean ‘Shiro’ Xavier stood seemingly alone upon the deck of ROME the largest supertanker owned by the Umbrella Corporation. Weighing 757,019 tonnes with a draft 87 ft it was easily the heaviest ship of any kind in the entire world; a testament to the connections, wealth, and expertise of its makers. Officially, it was to carry oil shipments across the globe to be sold. Unofficially it doubled as an armored fortress, a research lab, and perhaps one of the last safe havens for White Umbrella. Before the outbreak of the worldwide pandemic, it was here that the affluent of Umbrella’s arrogant elite flaunted their power and prestige. Now, it served as their execution chamber. Xavier smirked menacingly at that particular irony, before proceeding to take a drag of his Gauloises branded cigarette. It clawed at his throat, battered at the lungs, and poisoned the body. In one singular word, it could have only been described as…delightful. Rain drenched him. His battledress uniform and gear was completely wet. True, as a former mercenary and a long time soldier of Umbrella he was used to the harshness of nature. He even embraced it. What he could not tolerate, was that his white thousand dollar Dolce & Gabbana ‘Martini’ coat becoming steadily ruined by the rain. Just because he was an unrelenting tyrannical monster of a man, did not mean he was without good taste. In retrospect, Xavier conceded, that it was mildly foolish to wear it over his Umbrella White Division equipment. Alas, such things were small nuisances compared to the opportunity at hand. A drag was taken from the cancerous burning stick. The gods were dead or dying, and all was right with the world. Beneath him was a small crowd of people. Fat cats, the world before might have labeled them. Yuppies, they could have been called from a time long lost. Now, they had a new designation: victims. Self-absorbed, trapped in their own little bubbles, decadent from having far too much, they somehow forgot that the world had changed. They somehow forgot that still had devilish enemies. Yet, saddest of all, perhaps; they forgot that they nearly killed the Dark Wolf. It was Xavier’s old call-sign, the same one they had commanded him by. Only proper that the corporate soldier retained it once more in the matter of delivering retribution to his former masters. Thunder and the endless unceasing clamor from the frenzied ocean hid the coming of darkly painted helicopters. Only brief glimpses from the moon revealed armored silhouettes of grimly masked soldiers baring automated weapons. The fat cats, the yuppies, the suits, the former board of White Umbrella was held against their wills up against the starboard side of ROME. One by one their executioners began to announce themselves with the activation of their belligerently crimson infrared goggles. As one, there was a soft wheeze, a collection of breathing from men in gasmasks. “You can’t do this!” a shrilled voice blurted belonging from a female executive. “I f**king hired you!” “Is this f**king necessary?” demanded another hoarse voice. “Some of us are innocent. Please, lord Shiro…” Of course, there was pleading. There was always pleading. Dark Wolf, the canine of war did not care for their meager existence. In his absence, they had not only destroyed the Umbrella Corporation with their incompetence, but almost tried to command the Division in his place. Their fates were decided the very day his feeding tube had been yanked. He had not wrestled White Umbrella and forged the Division out of compromise and forgiveness. Xavier had forged it out of might, power for power’s sake. Yet, he will indulge them, as for it will prove… useful. Everybody loved theatrics after all, his enemies, as well as his soldiers. “Board of Directors, it’s been a while since you’ve responded to your chief executive officer.” There was a refined tang to his voice, a hint of high culture mixed with every syllable spoken. “Forgive me for intruding, and for taking up your time with this emergency meeting, but I have grave demands from our security department.” Despite the situation and the forbidding environment, there seemed to be genuine good humor coming from the Wolf. “Is this a joke?!” the shrill woman barked in fearful anger. “Please, please” Xavier continued. “These are concerns that I share with my former colleagues. The low survival rates, lack of reinforcements during extended operations, mistreatment of casualties, and wholesale abandonment of our fellow compatriots are a grave matter that we must all recognize!” There was an attempted rebuttal. “But we pay you; this is what you people do-“which was promptly cut off. “THEN CONSIDER WHAT WOULD TRANSPIRE IF WE HAD TRADE PLACES.” It was a controlled emotional response that came from Shiro. “CONSIDER, RATHER OR NOT YOU WOULD HAVE SPARED ME AND MY MEN, HAD YOU DECIDED WE ARE NO LONGER NEEDED.” “CONSIDER HOW MANY OF MY MEN, MY f**kING BROTHERS, YOU HAVE KILLED FOR NOTHING.” It was simple, concise, spoken to elicit an emotional response, not from his victims. ”Consider what Umbrella would be, if not for the sacrifice of your executioners.” It was for his own. Whereas before there had been murmurs of disapproval through his earpiece through slick rain and thunder, now there had been nothing save the wind. There was nothing left to say. The corporate soldier took one final drag from his dying cigarette, inhaled it until the butt burnt the black gloves he had on, and flicked down onto the wet ironed deck. It spun about, as bullet casings flew from squad automatic weapons, twisting and twirling about. By the time it settled, it too, was drenched, abet with a certain crimson fluid. Their deaths had to be quick and meaningless like their existence, for another batch awaited execution. The family members of the board members had to go too, both relatives and friends as well. There could be no chance for proper revenge; the Division was always one step ahead of its enemies, rather external or internal. Shiro Xavier turned towards the rear of the ship. Hundreds of blood stained goggles stared back him. The canine of war saluted them with a Saluto Romano. “Obedience Breeds Discipline” he whispered. “Discipline Breeds Unity” they whispered through the comm. link. “UNITY BREEDS POWER” Xavier shouted. “POWER IS LIFE!” his men roared back. >>>End of Transmission
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The Baron
Alive
"We Will Never Die"
Posts: 14
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Post by The Baron on Feb 12, 2011 3:45:39 GMT -5
|The Ghost Returns| Forty-eight hours. That's all Kennedy needed after departing his sanctuary to locate the Dark Wolf. Old connections proved to be correct as they often were when the right amount of persuasion was applied. Sometimes that meant negotiation through monetary means while more often than not it mean Baron had to get his hands dirty. As the fleeting sun set over a landscape of oranges, reds, yellows, and purples and the blackness of night began to take over, Owen felt calm aboard the CH-47 Chinook as it flew in formation with several others that comprised an armada over the sea. Apart from the atypical sounds of rotating rotors, vibrations, and general radio communication this could be considered a relatively peaceful trip. There wasn't much turbulence to speak of at the moment though the looming storm on the horizon would betray that image every now and then with a bellow of thunder and quick flash of lightening. The Baron sat with his head down, chin tucked into his chest and hands resting on his lap, fingers interlocked. To his fellow passengers who did not possess the ability to see beyond the mirrored aviator style sunglasses he would appear asleep but in reality was far from it. More now than ever before Owen would slip from the world of reality into what could only be described as a state of subconsciousness that one could call "dreaming." At the present he was thinking about the final piece of the puzzle that had led him to Xavier... A secluded cabin in the Sangre De Cristo Mountain Range of New Mexico housed a former member of the U.C.O. organization that both Xavier and Kennedy had belonged to. Baron had wasted little time in sneaking in the cabin and waiting for its owner to return. There was no power out here which was good if one did not want to be found. Half burnt candles filled the main room that housed a small open kitchen area, a broken down oak dinner table, ragged and faded vanilla love seat and a rustic looking bookcase filled to the brim with many leather-bound novels. He was facing the bookcase and held in his hands an open volume, wiping the dust off of the cover and staring at the worn yellow pages in the dark. The sound of a match being struck failed to interrupt his gaze as too did the acute change in room lighting when the candle was lit casting large, ominous shadows against the walls. "How did you find me?" asked the voice holding the candle. "You may know how to disappear from your enemies but seldom can you truly make yourself invisible to your friends, Apollo." Kennedy sat the book down on the shelf and turned to face his old colleague, staring at the Benelli M3 shotgun pointed at him. "Overkill, don't you think?""Not when today's common home invader is a walking heap of rotted flesh that wants to eat me."A wry smile formed on Owen's face and he snicked. "Touche, I suppose.""What do you want, Baron?""Getting to the point a little quick, aren't we? And here I was going to compliment you on your copy of 'The Bhagavad Gita.' But I suppose you know why I am here. Xavier... and don't play coy with me because I know you received word from him recently."Apollo lowered the shotgun and, although hesitant, leaned it up against the wall nearest the door. "I'm retired, you know that." "Don't take me for a fool and don't play games. If I had wanted to kill you I would have done it years ago. I'm not looking to have a grand f**king reunion either. Tell me what I want and I'll be on my way, you have my word."Apollo still seemed to hesitate before he answered, he knew all too well how Baron could snap at the slightest provocation and sometimes without any warning at all. "Apparently some ship anchored off the coast, he's gathered what few resources he can and is moving people in via the air."
Owen let out a deep sigh. "Now was that so hard?" He reached into his coat, gripping the pistol that was confined to its holster as he walked towards his old "friend." With his left hand Owen patted Apollo on the shoulder and felt the man loosen up. At that moment he removed the sidearm, flicking the level off of safe with his thumb and held it square to his comrade's left shoulder. Apollo looked at the pistol then up to Owen, mouthing the word "Why?" but there would be no reasoning with the insane one. "I am become Death, the shatterer of worlds." The tip of his finger squeezed the trigger, sending off a .40 caliber Smith & Wesson round into Apollo's shoulder where it connected to his torso. A bright spray of crimson plastered the wall behind him as he dropped the candle, falling to the floor at the same time. Laying on the floor holding his shoulder with a painful look in his eyes he stared up at Owen, a smoky cloud rose to the air from the barrel, highlighted by the expanding light. Kennedy knelt down beside his friend with a Cheshire smile. "But...you said you wouldn't." Apollo whispered to his would be murderer. "And I haven't. I am a man of my word, don't be a baby about it. Now I must leave you and I want you to listen... outside." Kennedy blew the man a kiss as he stepped over the injured body and exited the door silently, disappearing into the surrounded pitch black woods. Apollo's breathing had slowed and he did listen. Moaning, the undead had caught wind of his blood. "Alright gentlemen, ETA is two mikes." The pilot addressed to the passengers of the Chinook. Kennedy looked up and out the west window to see that the sea was in turmoil, rain had begun to fall hard, pointing the deck of the super tanker. "He better be a damn good pilot." Kennedy thought to himself knowing full well if he worked for Umbrella he had to be. Finally they had touched down on the floating fortress and the rear cargo hatch was dropped as crew members of the vessel ran out to hoist the bird to the deck. The immediate sound of a chorus of gunfire grabbed his attention. Trying to keep his balance in the gale force winds and pelting rain, Kennedy made his way to the source where he laid eyes on a familiar figure. He was standing close enough that The Dark Wolf could see his own reflection plainly in The Baron's aviators but it seemed his mentor had yet to take notice. Owen stared at the troops who were bringing in women and children to join their loved ones in the afterlife. Oh the joy was overwhelming. Owen James Kennedy stepped closer and put his right arm on Shiro Xavier's left shoulder, careful to not damage his lovely white jacket. With a grin only a true lunatic could possess, he yelled through the rage of the storm. "Atrum deus, addo nex!"
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Post by soldier on Feb 12, 2011 9:53:10 GMT -5
(Hypatia and twelve Neo Umbrella strike team NPC soldiers ready to assist the Umbrella Mobile Fortilla)
-ETA: Twelve Mikes (minutes) Hang Man, get ready to raise them in five- The pilot said through the radio. The Hawk was making it's fast approach to the ship. Hypatia stood up and cleared his Russian throat. This was the best time to go over the plan.
"Alright, you sons of b*tches, our callsign is going to be Alpha Strike Team 12, everyone is going to be refereed to a number the moment we step on the ship. I want this to go smoothly as a women's butt, I'm not letting anyone getting shot. If you do get shot, then apparently you didn't have any training from the moment you join. Check you're corners and take care of the person next you you. Simple. Do you maggots get me?!"
"WE GET YOU, SIR!" they all shouted in unison. Real soldiers.
It was getting close to the deadline to raise the Umbrella White Division. the chopper was circling the Umbrella property ship.
"Umbrella White Division to Alpha Strike Team 12, This is Hang man from N.U.C. hailing for commanding officer of the mission Op. We have Receive you're E-Transmission through the Blue Queen. It is My understanding that UMF-066 is compromised and a Biohazard material maybe leaking through out the ship. Please State the nature of the mission with a SitRep, Threat level, casualties, and provide the best course of a infiltration point to you're location if possible. How copy? Over."
"Something tells me this is going to be FUBAR" one of them said. Hypatia ignored the remark all at once as the chopper gave him a good view of the ship. It seem like a challenge for the ex-Spetsnaz, but there wasn't anything he couldn't handle.
"What is our best callsign challenge for this Op?"
Hypatia looked over at him. "I'll get to that later after we made contact with whoever is on that ship." he said to him. He looked back at the ship. Something just didn't seam right. "Pilot, do you have a slightest idea what might be on that ship this big?"
-Negative on that. But I would have to guess with the Emergence Transmission, if its really a biohazard situation, might find some dead men walking and infected pooches and kitty cats-
"A ship this size, it has to take at least eight-teen people to control the ship"
-Eight-teen to operate and the ship, Five to the engine room, hundred and fifty for crew exactly. That a total of Hundred seventy three crew members. It's a scale of slim to nil, Captain-
"Christ" Another soldier said.
"Big difference, small world" Hypatia said. He continued to wait for a response.
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Post by Le Dark Wolf on Feb 12, 2011 18:17:00 GMT -5
No sooner had it arrived was the Neo Umbrella Corporation’s UH-60 intercepted by the forces of the Division. A lone, yet fearsome metallic bird of prey had unexpectedly and suddenly appeared at their left flank. It was an EC-665 ‘Eurocopter Tiger’ in low visibility scheme. The insignia of White Umbrella’s Special Operation Command followed by its serial number of 0-134 was proudly brandished upon its sides. More importantly it was ‘armed for bear’ as evident by the emergency alarms that ranged within the N.U.C. helicopter regarding their precarious situation of being ‘painted’ by an electronic targeting system. If White Umbrella had been anything less than friendly to its fellow corporate friends, the newly arrived Black Hawk would have become nothing more than a smothering husk diving for an eternal sleep at the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean. The new management department was harsh, but fair. “Attention: Umbrella Transporter serial November Zero One Niner.” The N.U.C. craft was being raised. “This is ATC (Air Traffic Control)-01. Recommend that you stay on designated course. Landing zone five aboard RIG-03 is cleared. Attack helicopter number One Three Four will be on station for escort duties. You are to disembark. A security detail will be awaiting your impending arrival. Lord Xavier had been expecting you.” There was an obligatory moment of silence. When the controller spoke again, it was obvious there was a hint of joy in her voice. “We are surprised that the old channels still work. Welcome home Alpha Strike Team number Twelve.” <*> “Exspectata domus diabolus.”It took a certain type of man to hug a psychotic murderer. Perhaps it was because Xavier was insane, or he had made a calculated risk. The two factors were not mutually exclusive, of course. As soon as the Baron had placed a hand upon the Dark Wolf’s shoulder, the soon-to-be re-crowned executive turned about to embrace his long time ‘friend’. If there were even such a thing amongst such power-driven individuals, this would be the closest to it. A warm smile appeared upon the Wolf’s face. It had been a while. “Talk of the devil, and his horns appear.” A few men could be heard chuckling a short distant away. These men had been around far too long to appreciate the quote from Samuel Taylor Coleridge. They were no other, than the survivors of Umbrella’s Covert Operations. Men that had served under the Baron knew him well. The Baron was known for high number of ‘blue on blue’ casualties. Those they worked with him had become superhuman in terms of competence, insane, or dead. Very often, it was a combination of all those attributes. Whereas Xavier might have been the beloved face of White Umbrella, Kennedy was its feared dark side. As such, no proper reunion, no proper revival of the Umbrella White Division could be conducted without him. It was not as if the Dark Wolf had to look for the Baron either. He knew in his bones that the insane man was as hungry for power and glory as he was. Fate and destiny was on their side. “Oh my, you’ll get drenched, old friend.” In one swift motion, the corporate wolf takes off his lovely coat, and uses it as a makeshift umbrella for his old and …esteemed colleague. All the while, bullet casings could be heard ricocheting about the ship’s deck. There was blood, and there was death, sometimes there were even survivors that required a good solid stomp to the throat delivered by one of the many masked monsters. Thankfully corporate quality control always ensured that things got done. All the while a large mainframe could be seen being pulled from one of the vessels of the Umbrella Flotilla. “Before I forget, we have a board meeting to attend to. It’s regarding our reinstatement, and Umbrella Special Operations Command retaking its proper place of leadership within the White Division.”
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The Baron
Alive
"We Will Never Die"
Posts: 14
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Post by The Baron on Feb 12, 2011 19:54:05 GMT -5
Walking in tandem with Xavier as if they hadn't missed a beat, Kennedy glanced over to see the victims of the U.C.O. onslaught, lifeless, as the pouring rain carried their blood away. Oh what a joyous sight to behold, one that made him tingle at the very image of bullet-ridden corpses and crushed throats.
There were, however, some things Owen had been trying to piece together. Perhaps he had been underground too long and his mind had deteriorated into further states of mental distress but he needed to know how Shiro just seemed to appear out of nowhere as if he were the second coming of Jesus Christ himself.
Ignoring the elements as he normally did, Kennedy brushed aside the kind gesture of using Xavier's expensive coat to shield them from the rain. To be honest it was the closest thing to a shower the man had seen in many months.
There was no easy way to begin dialogue, so he just jumped into it as he often did.
"I assumed you were dead, Darovich even made such assumptions. After you disappeared they removed me from my military post and placed me in charge of the North American operations. Little did I know I would serve as a scapegoat for congressional hearings and countless sanctions."
"After I fled the country and gathered the last remnants of BLACK we carried out what some would consider terrorist activities. Countless scuffles with government agencies, H.C.F. then it seemed things would settle down. I sent the heir (his son) to stay with Frost. He's the lone surviving member of my team. As you can see from these tattered clothes I don't possess the wealth I once did. I'll need new uniforms and weapons."
He paused momentarily before grabbing Xavier by the bend of his elbow ensuring they met face to face.
"I was led to believe any and all elements of Umbrella were eradicated now you speak of board meetings and the such? You'll have to forgive me if I seem clueless, but I've been in the dark for so long I'll need to be brought up to speed."
Kennedy released his brilliant mentor and continued walking. Undoubtedly Xavier would make things clear. The Dark Wolf always had a plan, always stayed one step ahead of his enemies. The man as every bit as meticulous as Kennedy and often times Baron did not understand Shiro's motives but went along with it anyway. Hell as long as he got to spill blood that was alright, wasn't it?
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Post by soldier on Feb 13, 2011 9:11:06 GMT -5
An EC-665 appeared, well equipped for anything that this Black hawk could through at it. "Yeah. FUBAR" The same person said. There was a hint of fear, matter of fact, Hypatia looked at the men, and they all seem shaking. Then the ship started to hail Alpha Strike Team 12, it was appearently female from the sound of it.
-This is ATC (Air Traffic Control)-01. Recommend that you stay on designated course. Landing zone five aboard RIG-03 is cleared. Attack helicopter number One Three Four will be on station for escort duties. You are to disembark. A security detail will be awaiting your impending arrival. Lord Xavier had been expecting you.- Moments later there was enjoyment to her voice. -We are surprised that the old channels still work. Welcome home Alpha Strike Team number Twelve-
"Captain, Sir, they seem pretty much fine to me" One of the Twelve men said. Hypatia looked at him, There was something he didn't like about how his men felt, and how this mission was going to be. It wasn't normal for Hypatia to feel like this.
-That is a ne-
"Pilot, wait! take us in."
The pilot changed the channel to 15. He turned over and showed the channel to him, He quickly went one channel up. "Speak you're mind, soldier."
-No dis respect Hang man, but this is White Division. These guys don't even give a crap about N.U.C. The last time Op I did, we got in a fist fight with them-
"What is White Division, because remember I was just getting out of jail from a sh*t hole"
-They Are more elite Umbrella soldiers then SpecOps. They work with us to a certain extent-
Hypatia shook his head. He aboarded a chopper with scared b*tches. "Then why the hell did you f**king men take this mission? I knew why I took it. F--king idioty!"
The Pilot proceeded to RIG-03. With a chuckle, it convinced him just a bit. -You're Lucky that you remind me of my squard commander back in 2005- They changed the Channel back to 14. -10-4, ATC.-
The EC-665 followed them in. Hypatia looked at the man next to him, he looked up at him. "What's you're excuse?" He asked, wanting someone to test him further.
The man just looked at him and shrugged. "I help The team before, its more like they helped up. No problems. They either f--ked us over or the other way around. truth is: that's the normal sibal Rivalery. But its fair on both sides"
Hypatia nodded. "Just act cool" He got on the radio with the EC-665. "Thank you for the escort, 0-134" When the Hawk was above the LZ and slowly made its decent down. Hypatia could see the Security Detail getting prepared. These guy seem to be very well train, as if if they been train by Black Op veterns. Hypatia could learn to love these guys more. He looked at the eleven men. "I honestly don't care if this they are fine or dead, I want you people to know that I don't deal with Idiots, I want nothing else but men who will fight and die like men. we can do better then these guys, if they say this good they wouldn't be asking for assistance, so shut you're crying faces and suck it up! I want two single filed lines, after me."
-10 Sierra's-The Pilot said.
If this was an Emergance, it probably be nothing. Ten seconds of morale building up and hype would probably built that up. "You apes wanna show them who's bosses," He shouted "Let show them we mean brutality! lets show show White Division that we can handle them BOWs or whatever they o this ship. WHO ARE WE?!" He shouted so the Security Detail could here them.
"STRIKE TEAM 12!" they all replied.
"THEY CAN'T HEAR YOU, LADIES! WHO ARE WE?!" he shouted once more in his Russian accent.
"STRIKE TEAM 12! STRIKE TEAM 12! STRIKE TEAM 12!" They chanted the name out until they landed they touched down, Hypatia rushed out along with his men in two filed lines as the security team rushed to them bothing meeting half way.
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Post by Le Dark Wolf on Feb 14, 2011 0:39:21 GMT -5
Death was something he had held in complete contempt. It made men equal; despicable in the Dark Wolf’s world view. It took away the prestige, the will, and most importantly; the power, that men had tried so hard to accumulate in life. Xavier pondered his own close and intimate ‘experience’ with it, if abet hastily, as he scratched a barely noticeable scar upon his right cheek. “Don’t believe everything Xander tells you. It was a scar shaped like a bullet wound. “You’ll sooner be dead, than catch a glimpse of truth. But alas...” The characteristic old smirk had appeared. “Such matters are no longer relevant. I have returned, White Umbrella survived, and we shall rebuild…” He tucked the D&G coat under his left arm and carried it like a learned aristocrat. The Dark Wolf would embrace the elements alongside his colleague. They walked in unison across the deck of ROME. A contingent of darkly dressed soldiers carrying assault rifles followed in their footsteps. Thus when the Baron had grabbed an elbow to turn the Wolf about, the imposing commandos nearly brought their weapons to bear. They feared the wrath of the Baron, but the lost of their beloved patriarch would be a far worst concern. Xavier waved them to stand down. “Of course we’re having a board meeting.” White Umbrella’s tyrants were both standing in the midst of blood and rain. The bodies around them all held the same look-one of immense loathing. Even in death, their anguish laden faces stared accusing at their executors. White Umbrella’s board members had tried to overturn the Division’s leadership. It was a foolish thing to attempt on their part. For their blasphemy, there could only be death. “There has just been a restructuring of White Umbrella.” Jean Shiro Xavier had a thing for aesthetics. But beauty fades. Sarcasm and biting wit on the other hand lasts forever. Especially against those that were dead. “I am disgusted by the incompetence that derives from the American neo-liberalist model.” The Dark Wolf then waltzed over to one of the dead bodies and lazily kicked it over the starboard side. Xavier was also known for his aloof nature as well. “We’ll go back to our old neo-corporatist model. Kind of like how the Germans did things.” As always, there were hints of irony, metaphors, and allusions in Xavier’s method of speech. “The security force does the grunt work therefore the guns get to dictate the board’s agenda. You’re familiar with this. Especially…” He stops in mid speech as if some great epiphany had transpired. The Wolf snickered and began to shake his head, as if silently reprimanding for some foul misdeed. “I sometimes forget that we are amongst our own. That we are amongst warriors, so to that let me be direct and to the point. Umbrella Special Operation Command (UMBSPEC) has retaken its rightful position of being in charge of White Umbrella. The Division is reformed, today. From the ashes of the past, Umbrella White Division returns. Since UMBSPEC runs White Umbrella, its soldiers run the board. And since White Umbrella is the largest surviving entity of the old corporation, we, excuse my language…” “… We run this s***.”<*> Umbrella had originally organized the Mobile Flotilla to conduct research on the high seas. The fleet itself had consisted of two oil tankers, the larger being the ROME, the smaller being the BYZANTIUM. Also in use were the research vessels designed and maintained by White Umbrella. They were known as RIGS. Each research vessel consisted of three levels. One for the bridge and living quarters, one for research, and the third was for storage of its finished bio-organic weapons. In addition, there was a large contingent of naval combatants for security. This included several Arleigh Burke class guided missile destroyers. “Welcome aboard RIG-03.” Strike Team number Twelve were greeted by a dozen armed men encased in threatening-looking masks. Crimson infrared goggles intensively observed their every movement. They wore a midnight colored battle dress uniform, and were decked with an assortment of high end tactical gear. German assault rifles were brandished. As one, they wheezed towards the approaching men. A singular figure steps forward to take off…her mask. She was a lithe figure whose hair was a shade of dirty blonde. Behind her was a larger figure, austere and imposing. Unlike the others, he wore a balaclava under his MICH helmet. The woman spoke first. “Neo Umbrella Corporation, operating from the Arklay Mountains, consisting of remnants of the North American Division, Strike Team number Twelve, under the direct command of Captain Prokourorov. Once again, welcome to RIG-03. We expected you and your men to arrive before the UAD. But never mind that.” It was then time for the larger man to speak. “You must have questions and they will all be answered in time. For now tell your men to stand down. They are to report to the living quarters for R&R. You are called aboard the ROME for a meeting. It concerns the future of Umbrella.” <*> Aboard the ROME was a Joint Information Center. It allowed for the relay of orders as well as command and control across the Umbrella fleet. It consisted of an extended Combat Information Center, as well as a staffroom for the execs and board members. While originally meant to look luxurious and high class, Xavier had the room stripped to its core. All that remained were extremely comfortable leather seats, large obsidian colored round table, and a huge display which now bares the symbol of Umbrella White Division. According to some of the murmuring newcomers in the room, the Joint Information Center was now referred to as the SENATE. There were a dozen soldiers, usually leaders, sometimes even rogue agents sitting about. Many of them were flown or boated in only a few seconds ago. All were summoned via a ‘false’ signal delivered by Umbrella’s old communication systems. Three men presided over the newcomers. They represented White Umbrella’s ‘new’ administrative bureaucracy. The codenames of ‘Spade’, ‘Tenchi’, and ‘Diamond’ could be glimpsed. Spade led the trio, and addressed their guests on behalf of the Division. “Thank you for checking in your weapons. Lord Xavier and the Baron will be joining us shortly. There are two issues. One is orders to be delivered to your leaders and benefactors. But I say! The other is far more interesting. They are your new orders.”
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Post by soldier on Feb 14, 2011 12:24:54 GMT -5
Hypatia saluted them as they went through the report. The female officer went first and read the reports.
“Neo Umbrella Corporation, operating from the Arklay Mountains, consisting of remnants of the North American Division, Strike Team number Twelve, under the direct command of Captain Prokourorov. Once again, welcome to RIG-03. We expected you and your men to arrive before the UAD. But never mind that.”
"Its a pleasure, miledi"
The man stepped forward. "You must have questions and they will all be answered in time. For now tell your men to stand down. They are to report to the living quarters for R&R. You are called aboard the ROME for a meeting. It concerns the future of Umbrella.”
"Right," He looked at them, glearing through his mask and taking off. "Stand down, Strike team 12. Second high rank officer, call you're self out, now." A man from the left line walked down and Saluted him "First Lieutenant Austin Barks, Sir!" He shouted. Hypatia saluted him back. "you are in command until I get back, take them to their quarters"
"Sir, yes, Sir!" He walked away and he took control of the men.
As they separated from the group, He looked at the two officers. "Escort me to this meeting, please. I hate to be demanding, but it just so seem' that I missed lot over two years. Tell me more about White Division" He said to them. The flotilla was nothing he had ever been on. He tried to figure out what's so wrong with the men here. It looked well operated from what he could tell, their SOP (Standard Operation Procedures) seem to be sophisticated. Everything looked under control. His thought on this were pushed back and went about hearing the Information the the Umbrella group.
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The Baron
Alive
"We Will Never Die"
Posts: 14
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Post by The Baron on Feb 15, 2011 2:28:38 GMT -5
OOC NOTE: I'm writing this under the influence of hydrocodone cough medicine so please excuse the subpar quality, it's not my best body of work.
“Don’t believe everything Xander tells you."
"If I did I'd probably be working for Russia by now." Kennedy would reply to Xavier. Their trek across the ship continued.
“You’ll sooner be dead, than catch a glimpse of truth. But alas... such matters are no longer relevant. I have returned, White Umbrella survived, and we shall rebuild…”
So it was simple as that? Always clouded, his statements were. The longer you keep a person in the dark just blindly following your lead the longer you can continue to have a high success rate. Shiro knew this and Owen knew this but he went along with it and continued listening attentively as Xavier explained why they were here.
“I sometimes forget that we are amongst our own. That we are amongst warriors, so to that let me be direct and to the point. Umbrella Special Operation Command (UMBSPEC) has retaken its rightful position of being in charge of White Umbrella. The Division is reformed, today. From the ashes of the past, Umbrella White Division returns. Since UMBSPEC runs White Umbrella, its soldiers run the board. And since White Umbrella is the largest surviving entity of the old corporation, we, excuse my language…”
“… We run this s***.”
Entities, plural. He spoke of more surviving sects of the old Corporation? What did they do, splinter off and try not to be drug down to the depths of hell with Umbrella? On the exterior, Kennedy remained silent, staring through the mirrored sunglasses at his mentor while the rain trickled down the lenses, nay his whole body drenched in the refreshing downpour. Internally his heart began to race and he tried his best to control it. This is what he had been hoping for, another shot, another run to the top. The tip of the spear to pave the way to eternal glory and resurrection from obscurity.
Around that time they were interrupted by the arrival of presumably more Corporate personnel. Kennedy had no desire to converse with or be hospitable towards whomever had came aboard via the Black Hawk and after watching the way they boarded... they looked like a band of ROTC rejects that were way too hooah about their damn job. Kids, probably all of them.
It was decided that Mr. Kennedy should depart his comrade and freshen up, get to know the ROME a little better so he thanked Xavier for everything leading to the present and began to walk away before remembering to return a very important artifact to him.
"Lord Xavier, I almost forgot."
Lifting his right hand to his left shoulder he removed a long vertical object wrapped in cloth and turned it horizontal, presenting it to Shiro.
"Interesting calling card, but you just look odd without it."
"Summon me when the meeting begins." Xavier nodded and the two parted ways. Owen stopped momentarily to watch the new arrivals whom he personally dubbed "Scout Troop Number Six-Four-Six" break rank and file and go about their business. Shaking his head he moved into the interior of the first level and began to explore, taking note of his surroundings as any good soldier would.
Before too long he had wandered down several decks reaching the lab areas as well as the medical bay, all the while being trailed by a security detail of four operatives. Kennedy placed his hands on his wet hips and stared at the large stainless steel door before him. A damn card reader and undoubtedly his old access card would be invalid seeing how he destroyed the damn thing years ago.
With a sigh he turned and faced the detail, pointing to the door behind him.
"Tell whoever is in charge down here to let me in... then I want you all to get the hell away from me. I find your mere presence an annoyance and if you ever wish to see another sunrise you'll make haste."
Dumbfounded, all the masked men looked at each other and seemingly didn't know how to react. Okay, time to snap.
"And for God sake take off those f**king masks. Do you think we're in a f**king chemical or viral environment right now? No dips***s this place is secure. Y'all look like f**king tards, worse than those Boy Scouts who came aboard."
Y'all...his Texan roots were beginning to show.
"Well sir," one of the operatives began, "Lord Xavier has ordered us to wear these..."
"Oh yes, Shiro always has a taste for the theatrics. I know, I was there once upon a time. You're supposed to look foreboding, strike fear and terror into everyone's heart and all that s***. Do I look scared? You really think I'm the type that's intimidated easy? I will f**king kill you, slowly. Peel back your skin while you're still alive, pour salt over your exposed muscle tissue and watch you scream in agony as you slowly fade. Now do what I say and get out of my f**king sight."
Clearly his reputation preceded him. Still too unsure of what to do (obviously their training never showed them how to deal with a disgruntled legendary figure of their organization) nobody made a move. Kennedy sighed and lowered his hand and before the detail knew it his pistol was drawn and a forty caliber round was placed slightly off center of the forehead of the one up front. The loud, echoing blast almost seemed to go by unheard. A mild state of shock for them no doubt as their comrade fell to his knees and then onto his face, the crimson life force steadily flowing from out of the mask and onto the cold, reflective steel floor.
"Next?"
Oh that got them motivated and moving. And poof, Kennedy was granted access to the lab area and the security team was out of his sight, thank God. He holstered the pistol and looked around. Researchers and analysts of the likes were hard at work doing whatever the hell it was those tech types did. A soundproof room, they hadn't heard the gunshot. Good.
"Can I help you?" came a female voice.
"I'm afraid I need medical attention."
"I'm sorry, who are you?" She would inquire.
"Owen Kennedy."
A look of shock, jaw slightly unhinged.
"Oh...OH. Well Mr. Kennedy let me show you to the medical bay, to Doctor Sterling."
Bout time he was making some progress. He then found himself in the presence of an enchanting young Umbrella doctor named Nicole Sterling with whom he discussed his many ailments. She did not seem the type to judge the man but genuinely seemed to help. For bits of psychosis and dementia she prescribed a pill called UMB-146 and for the persistent insomnia another Umbrella product called UMB-96 with directions on how and when to take them. Finally maybe he could have some peace and return to a state of normalcy.
Later...
He exited the steaming shower and cleared the mirror of fog for a fresh shave then headed into his living quarters. Shiro knew Owen had a taste for the finer qualities in life, material possessions, vanity, such things one in his position had earned after sixteen years of dedication to the cause.
Laid out in a plastic cover on his bed was his suit of choice, literally the exact same style he used to wear when atop the world. Beside the apparel a note that read:
"Look your best,
Shiro"
A slight laugh and then he resumed his grooming and dressing routine, blacks and grays with the very distinguishable blood red tie. The final piece was his favorite style of jacket, black (of course) reaching down to mid calf with a fur lined collar. To each lapel he pinned an Umbrella crest. One was black and silver to represent his own organization, Black Umbrella. The other black and white to display his allegiance to Umbrella White Division.
After ensuring he had a fully loaded clip for his XD Tactical and two in reserve he concealed them in the shoulder holster beneath his coat and a topped off the look of a very sharply dressed man with a couple sprays of Acqua Di Gio, his favorite cologne.
His timing could not have been more perfect as a knock on his door caught his attention. Permitting the perpetrator of said knock to enter, he was informed that Lord Xavier had called upon him to attend the meeting.
EXIT TO
INT. UMBRELLA SENATE CHAMBER
A spacious room that once looked as though it was in a luxurious state, stripped now down to the bare essentials and the omnipresent White Umbrella logo. Kennedy opened the door and stepped inside, standing by the back wall and staring at everyone who were... well staring back at him.
"Baron, right on schedule. Lord Xavier will be with us shortly. Please, have a seat."
"I'm fine where I am."
There was no objection. Owen crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, staring once again from behind the veil of mirrored sunglasses (indoors, because he's cool like that) awaiting Shiro's arrival to hopefully finally learn the next step in his grand scheme of a fourth Reich.
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Post by soldier on Feb 15, 2011 12:07:08 GMT -5
(OCC: Its all good) The security detail group had said nothing but they did, however, take him to the board meeting. After that was done and dealt with, Hypatia shook his head He mumbled a few ignorant words in Russian, as if they would knew what they met these days. Before he could go In he took awhile to thing of what questions to ask. First is the real reason why his men came in ready for action when they came in looking like fools with the Division following SOP had all they needed for assistance. Second, the most notable and the understand of (and if the code wasn't updated yet or still exist for that matter) Code 752: A false act of an Emergence Distress will result in the actions the Board sees fix for the person responsible. Result maybe the resignation. Third will also be why he was called upon for a board meeting about the 'future of Umbrella' and what it had to do with an Emergence Assistance and biohazard material. If these questions didn't make sense to the Transmission then Hypatia will be making someone his personal b*tch. However, if it did have something to do with the nature of an Emergence, wants to to know when, where, threats, and what to expect. He put his game face on, and open the door. He looked over to his left. There was a man standing and the rest sitting. He quietly shut the door behind him. The room looked like a snob had owned this room once and lend it to some business people. "I was told that Lord Xavier Is expecting me at a meeting." He said showed a slight hint of annoyance, if he swore to everything he had wasted on being here that it had better be worth the trouble to call a board meeting. He pulled a pack of kools and took cigarette out with his lips and put the pack back in his pockets. "It is OK to smoke in here, pravo?" he asked whoever was in charge. *** Austin had gotten the men situated. They had already gotten their mask off and settled into the quarters. It was big enough to set belongings and sleep four people in the bunks. Austin laid down as Corporal Koke, Corporal Fisher, and Privet Gorke settle in. "I really think this is bullsh*t," Said Fisher. "They got enough men as it is. This isn't any taxi Derby, I mean A company meeting?" "Anything is possible" Gorke piped in. "yeah, maybe we'll the captain his being debrief now" Koke explained. "But when did the white division need any assistance, and this is more escalated. I saw The Baron, aboard this ship." They all said at Austin once he had finished his sentence. "The guy is an assh-le." Fisher sat up looking up at him. "From what I heard about Captain Hypatia Prokourorov is said to be a bigger assh-le then The Baron" Koke told Fisher. "Does it matter? The Captain isn't nobody were as Kennedy is like god of war." The two corporals argued about it over and over. Austin sighed, "Can it, guys. you missed the hole the bigger picture. about Captain Prokourorov. Even if The Baron did shoot him point blank, he's still gonna stand there. He has no feeling in his body, remember?" The room fell to silence. the three soldiers looked at the First class officer. And Gorke broke the silence. "Is that good?" He said stupidly. Fisher punched him dead in his leg. "Shut the hell up with that crap, rookie"
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