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Post by JazzBuddah on Nov 18, 2008 16:33:59 GMT -5
The FBI building is home to the most experianced agents in the world, along with an arsenal of weapons and the latest security systems. The building houses many agents, but is not very well barricaded. Only constant vigilance has kept the zombies at bay.
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Angelica Yates
Alive
Be afraid of the cold, she'll inherit your blood.
Posts: 37
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Post by Angelica Yates on May 22, 2010 2:40:53 GMT -5
Washington D.C. - 9:36AM - FBI Headquarters
Taking The Fight To Them ((Open adventure for anyone who'd like to join me in getting this story going, obviously being Government or Military would be a bonus)) There is something wrong with you when you continue the same routine over and over, and get used to it. This is what Agent Yates had done. Day in and day out agents are assigned guard duties. No longer are there simple duties like bio research or investigation. Keeping the building secured was all the work people could do in this desperate situation. As the infection got worse around DC, many of the citizens became amongst the walking dead. Food was scarce for the zombies so they hunted. Their moans echoed through the streets like lost souls seeking an afterlife. The young woman, Angelica Yates, an agent with the Bio-terrorism division finally found a moment to relax. Her eyes stared out at the now dead city. The ruins of a great capital. Her eyes stared blankly, as if she could use some heroic power of the mind to return things to their normal state. To her disappointment, the scene remained as grisly as ever. Her thoughts went back to her research. The FBI isn't as well equipped for research as most bio-terrorism fields. So it made things trying for her. The government didn't want to put the money into expanding the FBI's branches even more. Which now, they probably regret. Angelica's research had been that of a high level nature, direct viral dissection of the T-virus. Much of her research materials came directly from her last mission. Gathering B.O.W DNA and other vital genetic information. Which after her home office in Portland was overran, she was taken her to Washington. A knock on the door broke her of her silent reverie. It was Agent Marsing, an agent she'd just recently met. He was a large man, with strong features. He looked a lot like that actor Gerard Butler, only with a bigger nose, and a swept over hair cut. Angelica liked him though, he was hard working, and dedicated to the FBI, a true agent. "Angie, we got some problems downstairs," he said pausing for a brief moment to catch his breath, "It would seem that Deputy Director Robbins hung himself and Director Shepard would like to talk to you." Taken back by this she paused, looking at Marsing with an odd glare, as if he just told her some terrible joke. Finally snapping to, she sighed audibly, slamming her fist on the chair. "Of all the goddamn people I thought would give up first, he wasn't it. This is outrageous. How are the other agents taking it?" she said with a slight tinge of worry. Marsing only shook his head "Only about three of us know right now, but Bowen knows, so that equates to everyone knowing in about 3 hours." Standing up Angelica walked toward the door way which Marsing turned and moved out of the way. "Lets go then, Director Shepard is probably in arms as it is, let's not keep him waiting." Angelica said with a tone that indicated both annoyance and anger. Marsing had to almost jog to keep up with Angelica, finally catching back up, he whispered, so the few agents that were around couldn't hear him "He's in the Medical Room, with the body, making sure he's not getting back up" Angelica looks at him nodding, making her way through the office to the medical room. It was a simple room, meant for treating a wound, or a fall around the office, nothing major, just enough to keep you from getting an infection. As she walked in, she immediately saw Director Shepard sitting down, sipping on a cup of coffee, looking distraught, but hiding it under a veil of anger. "Agent Yates, thank you for coming. I'm sorry you had to hear the news this way, I know you and Robbins were friends, as you know he and I were." Director Shepard said to her, while she maintained a look of sadness and surprise. "I know titles being thrown around mean a lot of nothing right now, but the reason I wanted you down here is to tell you, I'd like you to take the position of Deputy Director." He raised his hand demanding silence as Angelica started right away with her protest. "I know you don't want the position, but I need you Yates, you are my only agent here that understands this virus, you've been in the field dealing with it for almost a year. I think you'd be a good leader to these agents." he said with finality in his voice, assuring her that his mind would not be changed. She could argue Shepard like a high school debate student, but she knew it was for naught. Angelica wanted to get promoted, like any agent, but not because of her knowledge of a virus, but because she had earned it. This acolyte wasn't one she wanted in her career record, but she would take it, and do her best. It's weird how you rise to the occasion in a bad situation, and hide from the rest of them in a good situation. "Ok Director Shepard, I will take on these duties, but what I ask in return is you give me the ability to prepare a group of Agents to do a recon of the city. We need to find others to help us defend this building. Plus we're running low on food and other important supplies. I will not abandon this building sir, as it's structurally the strongest building in Washington, but if we want to hold out against this virus, we need means of surviving, and bringing survivors here. All members of my team will be re- inoculated before we leave" Angelica said with a confidence in her voice she didn't know she had. She liked it, and where did she get this idea? Could she succeed in leading a field team out into hell? Who knows, but she can only pray she can find someone in this building who has military background, and is reliable. "Well Deputy Director Yates, I think that would be just fine, in fact, you have my full support on this mission." he said with a smile, glad to see Angelica jump right into the spirit. Finally waving her off "Go get to work Yates, get this machine oiled up and get it running again" he said as she gave a half attempt of a smile as she started to leave. "OH and sir, all Agents in this building were inoculated, you don't have to worry about him getting up" she said with a manner of respect. "Oh don't worry Yates, I'm just saying goodbye" he said as she nodded and closed the door.
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Post by .Merios on May 22, 2010 13:34:27 GMT -5
It's been a while since Cameron's been anywhere near a government building- the last one he entered was in the Naval Yard back in DC, and it looked pretty grim. He had met a few acquaintances there, but the way his mission was going he wasn't going to make any friends any time soon. His feet seemed to move on their own, one after another, as he padded up the granite walkway heading towards the large building with: Federal Bureau of Investigation written above the archway. Odd. It wasn't as he pictured it- he was told it looked much different, but 14 years tends to do that to a memory. His suit seemed to be perfectly smooth- no wrinkles, he was almost too dapper to be in this environment.
The black of his jacket and slacks bear no mark of dirt or dust; his white dress shirt was buttoned and pressed, and the black tie that wrapped it all together lie on his chest, reaching to his navel, blowing ever so slightly in the breeze. It was almost night time, but the sun was out enough to warrant sunglasses, so he had his mirrored cognac Aviator's on. In his right hand, clasped within the fingers, was the handle connected to a chrome, thin briefcase which swung with every arm movement. His left hand slipped into his left front slacks pocket as he approached the door and was immediately stopped by two suits. He moved his left hand to snatch the sunglasses off of his face and slip them into his breast pocket as he moved his left hand into the right side of the inside of his jacket, withdrawing a wallet which he flipped down and revealed to the men- it read "Cameron Ruiz, SIS" among other things, giving him proper identification. The men nodded and let him through the front doors.
As he stepped into the building, delightful oxygen pumped into his lungs- man did he love government buildings. He stepped up to the front receptionist's desk, leaning forward and moving to rest on his left arm which still clasped his ID.
"I'm here to see Director Shepard, love" he said in a thick British accent.
The woman cooed back, blushing as she said, "I..Uh.. Do you have ID?"
Cameron slid her his wallet and she snatched it, looking it over and typing a few things into a laptop before handing it back over.
"Everything seems to.. To be in order. He'll be expecting you."
Cameron smiled and nodded, taking the wallet and sliding back into his jacket. He took a few steps away from the desk and headed towards the hallway leading towards the back of the lobby, towards the stairs. He never trusted elevators- the statistics blew his mind away.
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SNAFÜ
Zombie Hunter
I'm gonna flank the hell outta you!
Posts: 133
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Post by SNAFÜ on May 22, 2010 18:06:13 GMT -5
Acrid black smoke... Flaming ruins and vehicle wrecks... Swarms of the undead... Streets in disrepair for as far as the eye can see. These were the greeting images that Washington DC bestowed upon Joe as they penetrated a particularly large pillar of thick black smoke. The flames from the buildings billowing down a bit as the UH-60 Black Hawk passed the pyre that had once been an office building. The four man team sat in the allotted seats, three green looking mercenaries and a grim looking soldier whom sat adjacent to them. The three "rooks" as Joe had taken to calling them were a ragtag group. One was a steel yard security guard and the other two were ex police, all three had volunteered from the surviving refugee camp around Washington DC to participate in extracting a TFP operative that had been presumed dead.
It wasn't uncommon for an agent to die in the field. It happened everyday and normally a team wouldn't be sent to retrieve one dead soldier. But this particular soldier had in his possession a flash drive choc full of operational data. So it was tasked to Joe to find the soldier and bring the intel back at any cost. These volunteers had been given a quick crash course on combating infected, given limited tactical gear and AK-47's and loaded onto the helicopter. Over the "chop" of the aircrafts rotors Joe could hear one of them whimpering from behind his balaclava. It was the third on the left. Joe looked over at the other two, the ex police officers. Both of them held their AK's with white knuckle pressure, but these men were better trained and had a better chance of survival. He reached up to his throat and tapped the "G" button on his bone mic, the comms system amplified his voice clearly over the noise of the Black Hawk.
If any of you try and run I'll personally shoot you in the back. Do I make myself clear? You volunteered for this sh*t. Remember you're doing this for your families. Remember what we told you, stay in formation and follow orders. Three keys to staying alive gentlemen, use them.
Joe ran a gloved hand through the bristle of the high and tight haircut, looking back outside the UH-60's open side door. His eyes danced over the wreckage looking for anything out of the ordinary. He saw a bright flash for a second, squinting his eyes as he attempted to figure out what had happened. Suddenly the contrail from some projectile flared out against the gray, dismal scene below. Joe had finally realized what had been fired, a rocket propelled grenade! He'd turned in a vain attempt to warn the pilot, but it was too late the warning claxon started to blare with its monotone wail.
The rocket struck the UH-60 smack dab in the tail rotor, sheering off the entire mechanism. This sent the helicopter in a wild spin, throwing Joe up against the fusilage wall hard. Dazed but not down he would brace himself by grabbing an over rail with both hands. Aside from Joe both the pilots and the conscripts were screaming and yelling. A few seconds later and finally the chopper made landfall, plowing through a pile of rubble and a few wrecked vehicles before grinding to a stop. The UH-60 was utterly trashed, both pilots and the two conscripts that would do him any good had died in the crash. The one that was weeping just minutes ago was now full on bawling. Joe shook his head and reached down, unclasping the harness that kept him in his seat. He stood up and checked for wounds, a good sized cut on his forehead from hitting the fusilage door was the extent of his wounds. He did the same for the last man on his team, hauling him on his feet.
Look and see if any of the pilots survived. Also check and see if the radio is intact. Otherwise we're f*cked.
The pilot had used all his expertise to guide them onto a plaza not four miles away from the FBI Building. Joe would then negotiate his way past the mangled bodies of the two that had previously been the core of his team, to the overhead rack that held his Remington shotgun and three day survival bag that he had packed for this mission. He pulled the shotgun free and racked a shell, unstrapping his TDB and fastening it to the side of his ALICE battle harness. Joe finally climbed out over the top of the burnt out wreck, jumping down to the ground. He landed with a grunt and shouldered his shotgun, his eyes scanning left and right for hostiles or undead. The Merc yelled out at Joe while climbing out of the wreck himself.
"Well. We're f*cked. The cockpit is filled with sh*t and its safe to say the radio is broken. So what happened why did the choppers tail end just explode?"
Joe could'nt believe how dumb the merc sounded right now. He shot the man an annoyed glare and turned back to watch his front, picking his way past a blade that had burried itself into the ground. He kept his shotgun level the whole time, scanning in a 180 degree radius infront of him.
The UH-60's back rotor was hit by a rocket propelled grenade. Hell if I know who fired it so dont even ask. It was probably a group of renegade survivors or something. At any rate we're still alive and we're going to complete the mission. Before we crashed I got a pretty good look at the surrounding area. The only place that wasn't blown out or on fire was north of here. So we're going to find a place to get our bearings and...
Joe stopped dead in his tracks after hearing a familliar wail of despair. Two...three...four more resounding wails and groans responded. He cursed under his breath and turned to look at the merc. The man continued to look around as if trying to find an escape route. Joe growled at the man to "Steady. Keep your s*it together." That is when it happened, the first of the infected came looping through the smoke. The untrained merc lifted his AK and started to fire erratically, the rifle bouncing around in the mans poor grip. Somehow the merc had managed to hit the zombie square in the face. The resulting ordure spray from the exit wound confirmed it was dead. The man panicked and started shooting out into the smoke that had began to billow from the flaming wreck. Once his clip was expended he would drop the rifle and make take a few steps back as if he were going to run.
"GO AWAY PLEASE GO AWAY!"
These were the mans last words before being tripple teamed by infected. All three appearing from out of nowhere through the smoke. The flesh eaters seemed to have started to attack en force almost as if they were working together, Joe swore they were starting to get smarter. They dragged the unlucky mercenary down to the ground, moaning with hunger as they ripped at his clothes and bit into the exposed flesh. Joe saw the entire scene go down without even lifting his firearm in an attempt to save the mans life, but why? Joe guessed it was because he considered the man too weak to survive. So why should he go out of his way to help the man do so? It was also damn sure that the mercenary would only put the mission at risk. So Joe let the dying mans last screams attract the infected that were enticed by the prospect of an easy meal. He quickly picked out three buildings that were suitable for his needs. A Gas Station named Zeps and what looked to be two small storefronts. He opted for the gas station due to how close it was and maybe his dumb luck would kick in and he'd find a vehicle. Joe turned from the gruesome scene and began to jog towards a blown out gas station a block down the road.
Upon finally reaching Zeps Fill n Lube he entered through the destroyed storefront, making sure to keep full three sixty security as he crept past knocked over shelves and a few broken displays. He came upon the Mechanics office and decided that this was the safest place to regroup. He shut the metal door behind him and propped up a chair under the knob. Joe propped his shotgun against the rustic looking desk and took a look around. He unclasped the flap of his tack bag and pulled it back to reveal his supplies. He produced a map of the greater DC area, a small Maglite flashlight and a compass.
Time to find where you've gotten yourself lost now...
He sat the map atop the dust covered desk, with a press of his left thumb a beam would shoot from the flashlight and dance around the map. After a few moments of concentration he gave a huff and folded the map back up. Joe turned the MagLite off and shoved it and the map back in his bag. Suddenly he thought of an idea, using his commlink as a two way to send a "distress" signal if you would around a small area near the gas station. He took a knee and pressed the "G" button while turning a small screw to increase the range of his message.
Request for assistance...This is David One Task Force Pantheon. If anyone can hear me I am trapped in Zeps Gas Station. There is a downed UH 60 Black Hawk Helicopter a block down from my position. Infected are becoming attracted to the noise and the flames. Request for assistance...
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Angelica Yates
Alive
Be afraid of the cold, she'll inherit your blood.
Posts: 37
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Post by Angelica Yates on May 22, 2010 22:22:14 GMT -5
Angelica made her way towards the conference room near the front of the FBI main lobby. As she did, she noticed a man at the front desk, he had the look of a Bond double agent wannabe, she could only laugh as Marie, the girl who had been working the front desk during the standoff bought into the man's charms. She just shook her head as she saw the ridiculous display and walked over to Marsing who was standing there watching the scene unfold as well. "Who's the suit?" She asked Marsing with a disinterested tone. "Well, no idea, but the guys heading up defensive positions at the front door let him in, so you might want to ask them." He said to her while turning in her direction. "So what was the big meeting about?" Marsing asked her with a concerned look. "Well, just when you think things can't get worse, they go an promote you to Deputy Director" she said hiding her smile with expert emotional control. "Well I'll be damned, it's about time Yates, god knows you were due for a promotion" He said giving her a gentle pat on the shoulder. Marsing had always enjoyed dealing with Angelica, she was dedicated, and worked very hard. Probably spent more time i the field during this outbreak than any agent in the FBI. So Marsing respected her skill as well. Looking at her, he folded his arms across his chest and said pleasantly "So does that mean we get to leave this damn building?""You're goddam..." she was cut off before she could finish, a couple of swat guys who had holed up in the building came walking up to her. "Ma'am, sorry to interupt, but we have this odd distress signal on our handhelds." The younger looking man said to her while holding out the handheld to prove his words. "Request for assistance...This is David One Task Force Pantheon. If anyone can hear me I am trapped in Zeps Gas Station. There is a downed UH 60 Black Hawk Helicopter a block down from my position. Infected are becoming attracted to the noise and the flames. Request for assistance..." A grizzled voice growled into the radio. Yates grabbed the radio and spoke clearly: "This is Deputy Director of the FBI, Angelica Yates, we copy your message, and will send help as soon as possible, over"
Angelica looked at Marsing and said plainly "Well yes, we're getting out of the building, I'm going to assemble a team and we're going to get this guy. Part of this mission is going to be to locate valuable allies to help defend the headquarters. We're spread thin, and it's only a matter of time before the B.O.W.s start homing into our location. Not to mention, our dwindling food supplies and water shortage. So Marsing, I'm having you head up the duty of gathering up Agents you think would be good in the field."
Looking at the two Swat guys she smiled "You two ready to get out here and put those weapons to use?" A grin crossed their faces as they looked at each other "You're goddamn right we are"[Location - Shepard's Office, 3rd Floor FBI Headquarters]Mindlessly clicking through files on his computer, Shepard studied a few files, eager to help out Yates in her decision making for a team. Then an unusual buzz came on his phone. "Yes what is it?" He asked supsiciously. "A Cameron Ruiz to see you Director, he's on his way to your office now." Marie said cheerfully. "Very good Marie, thank you" Shepard said turning off the intercom on the phone. A knock came at the door about 3 minutes later, and Shepard walked over to the door and opened it. "Ahhh Ruiz, my old friend, welcome. I'm sorry for the unceremonious welcome, but as you can see, we're a little strapped down here. I do hope our slow moving friends outside didn't pose too much of a problem" Shepard said clasping Ruiz's hand.
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Post by Mikey on May 23, 2010 3:53:58 GMT -5
“Motherf**ker…” Harrison muttered, peering through the smoke and steam of the SWAT bus he’d been driving. He knew he’d burn this thing out sooner or later. He’d been pushing ninety the whole way here. Blood decorated the armored vehicle, souvenirs of kills it had accomplished. He was sad to see it go. It was a damn fine vehicle. Had served his SWAT teams for years. Took more rounds than he could remember, and kept on truckin’. But most of all, he wondered why it couldn’t hold out for about five more miles. At least get him into the center of town, where all the more important buildings were.
Oh well. No use crying over blown rods.
He opened up the back of the van and grabbed a duffle bag. He loaded it up with what he could gather. Ammo and rations, mainly. He didn’t need any of the weapons there, he’d been using what was strapped to him for years. He had plenty of survival gear on him, urban survival at least. Good thing he’d made it to town. As for now… Guess he was huffing it. He zipped the bag up and slung it across his back, synching the strap down tight and shutting the doors of the vehicle. Maybe some other survivors would happen upon it. Maybe he could come back and collect the cache of civilian and police rifles, shotguns, and handguns. Pity he hadn’t been able to acquire any heavy duty armaments. Explosives, submachine guns or military assault rifles. Just what he and the small band he’d been gathering were able to put together. Even now, the stuff here was second rate. The few good things that had been found went to one of the ones who knew how to fight.
He took off at a quick pace, some might say impressive for someone his age. Sixty one years old, a Vietnam Veteran who signed with the police department as soon as he got back. He’d run the SWAT team for the last few years, coordinated plans of attack or infiltration. Hadn’t actually been in the field in a long time, but he prided himself on doing everything his officers did. The same workouts and training drills, the same firearms training, everything. To the last day of the normal world, he’d been the number one marksman at the department.
He soon slowed his pace, not because he was tired but because he was looking around. It seemed quiet, and that was never a good thing. He decided taking refuge for a moment in an abandoned diner was the best course of action. Check the radio signals, see what the chatter was. If the chatter existed. He didn’t know what the f**k he was going to do if it turned out that the government had cut and run.
He took a seat at the counter after checking to see that the main room was clear and pulled the radio from his side out of its holster. He turned it on and started checking channels. Static all around, until he hit the distress signal. It was easy to hear, being the only sound from the radio, and he listened intently.
“Zep’s…” He muttered to himself. He wondered why it sounded familiar. He quickly searched the room for maps or brochures of the city and found one just as the reply came up. Deputy Director of the FBI? Jack-f**king-pot. Some big wig like that didn’t go somewhere alone. Odds were there were quite a few people around if whoever it was could afford to send out help. Things were looking up. He hit the transmit button on his radio and called in.
“This is Officer Knight, Chicago PD SWAT. Zep’s is six blocks away from my current position. I cant do much but it’s an extra gun.” He said into the radio. “ETA, seven minutes.” He said, hooking the radio back in its holster and snatching his shotgun off the counter. He slung it over his shoulder and scanned the street from the window before he stormed out and to the most direct route he could figure to the downed chopper and its passengers.
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SNAFÜ
Zombie Hunter
I'm gonna flank the hell outta you!
Posts: 133
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Post by SNAFÜ on May 23, 2010 4:21:07 GMT -5
Joe couldn't believe his good fortune, after only three repeats at five minute intervals he had already gotten a response.
"This is Deputy Director of the FBI, Angelica Yates, we copy your message, and will send help as soon as possible, over"
He got up from his seat upon the desktop, brushing at his bottom in a vain attempt to remove the dust that had caught in the fabric. He moved his finger to the "G" button and pressed down, just as he was about to speak a loud bang came at the door and then another and another. Joe thought he had at least another hour before the infected finally sniffed him out. That is until the propped up chair gave way and a particularly large infected shouldered his way into the room. Dripping a bloody string of saliva, probably the poor mercenary from his teams' blood. Joe looked at the creatures face with disgust, it looked far from human. He stood there locking eyes with it.
It stood there a second, just staring at Joe with its blank gaze. Until he saw the man shoulder his shotgun. Joe waited until the large zombie attempted to bum rush him in a sad attempt at another free meal. The first round of 00 buckshot would blow the infected attackers decomposed right leg out from under him sending him falling face first into the floor in kind of a baseball slide. He smirked as he refreshed another round into the Remingon, putting the second round through the cannibals head. He again racked the pump and sent a red casing out to the side. The sound of footfalls against broken glass and boxes being unceremoniously kicked to the side prompted him to run to the metal door and slam it shut. He put his back against the steel sheeting just as the infected began to throw themselves at the door. His comm was on the whole time, Angela and her team would be able to hear the entire ordeal.
Deputy Director Yates, this is...F*ck! This is David One, I copy your transmission and await extraction. There are infected attempting to take my position. I am holding for now... If you're planning on doing anything now would be the best time Ma'am!
The group at the FBI Building would hear two more shots fired, the discharge sounding absurdly artificial over the communications channel. After a little bit of shuffling around and heavy breathing followed by the sound of grunts and metal against cement. It seemed like Joe had found the time to push the heavy metal desk infront of the door. A few seconds of silence and his voice would crackle and fizz a bit before comming clearer.
When and IF your extraction team gets here in time they are going to have to signify with a challenge. Their challenge will be "Goliath" and the correct countersign will be "Slingshot."
Joe braced himself up against the side of the desk in a crouch. The sound of the infected outside was becomming more like a drone of agonized and tortured souls. He kept the stock of his shotgun tucked just underneath his armpit, ready to stand and address any threat that was tough enough to shove the desk out of the way and rush him. There was a bit of static in his ear, Knights message was getting interference. He turned the tuning knob until it got a bit better. He figured another gun couldn't hurt and it was a Chicago PD officer... Another roving survivor. He shrugged and spoke into his comm.
I am receiving you officer Knight. Be advised there are multiple hostiles converging on my location if you can I would advise taking up an elevated position for soft target interdiction if at all possible. Otherwise you're going to have to signal me again when you are close so I can advise a proper course of action. There is also an extraction team on the way. Do not fire on any uninfected. I repeat, hold your fire on human targets.
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Post by .Merios on May 23, 2010 4:27:43 GMT -5
Cameron shook his hand- it was odd for someone to say his real name, as he hasn't heard it himself in over two months. He released his grip and moved to sit in the chair in front of the director's desk. His eyes weren't following the man, and he was basically focusing on his environment. His dark brown pools scanned the room, taking in small details that would otherwise escape him. Cameron's mind stayed sharp, even when he was relaxed- it was a part of his training and was second nature at this point. He watched as the Director took his seat, as he expected someone to do after greeting someone at the door. Cameron gave a slight chuckle before he responded.
"Oh, do you mean the stenches or the men out front?"He said jokingly, shifting his position in his chair.
"The sky seems rather empty this time of year, does it not?"He spoke in his thick British accent- it was a pass phrase given to him by a superior to make sure the man was of proper clearance to speak to.
Cameron then brought his suitcase to his chest and crossed his arms over it, his hands pressed on top of the lid. The answer to the question would determine if he were to open it or not. He had gathered important data during his trip to ground zero and took various notes on various topics- he even went so much as to record video segments in some situations where it was necessary. His entire mission was reconnaissance, and he did his job well. His eyes now locked with Shepard's own, his own facial features flaccid and unmoving- it held no emotion, and he was to give nothing away with his body language. His eyes then broke and moved to his desk, noting that he keeps his awards on his desk rather than on the shelf- a man who takes his accomplishments with vigor and pride. He also noticed that his family portrait was turned not towards him but facing the rest of the room, letting whoever was the guest take a nice long look at the photograph, which insisted that he was proud of his family and wanted to "show them off". A bit of an egotist, but nothing that's bad- sometimes confidence could be easily mistaken for arrogance, but not in this case; the man had worked hard for what he accomplished in life, and he took that seriously.
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Angelica Yates
Alive
Be afraid of the cold, she'll inherit your blood.
Posts: 37
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Post by Angelica Yates on May 23, 2010 9:30:14 GMT -5
Angelica stood by as the two swat officers, some of DC's finest mapped out where the distress signal just came from, they knew the town well and had dealt with many issues throughout the city. These were the best of the best and Angelica felt lucky to have them on board. They were respectful of her as well, normally PD don't like dealing with the FBI but in a situation where zombies and genetic mutations fill the street, it's nice when the whole team is working together. The officer, Robinson, assisting his teammate Clark, pulled his hand held from his belt and handed it to Yates. "Ma'am, if you don't mind keeping this guy on the radio that would be a great help. We need to triangulate exactly his position on the map, and a downed helicopter is going to really attract some stink. My suggestion would to be tell him to get the hell out of there." Robinson said with a tone that was professional and respectful. The other officer, Clark, mumbled something about the location of the man to Yates, and Robinson: "Looks like he's around the Gompers park area. Just off 12th North West. That's about 8 to 9 blocks from our current location, which with that death zone out there, would take us a good 30 minutes to get to him, and that's if we are generally zed free."Yates nods to him, and just as she's about to get on the radio and talk to the man another signal comes to life with a voice: “This is Officer Knight, Chicago PD SWAT. Zep’s is six blocks away from my current position. I cant do much but it’s an extra gun.” the hollowed voice said. The two swat officers turned when they heard this, Yates, obviously FBI didn't understand the camaraderie that officers had. It was a global respect the men had a for fellow task officers who put their lives on the line. She grasped the kinship, but was no part of that brotherhood. She watched as Clark grabbed his radio and responded. " Officer Knight, we read you, Lieutenant Bryant Clark DC Swat here, will advise dangerous situation, zed hotspot. Will make our way to the American Petroleum Institute as it's a safer building and built to withstand destruction due to the nature of dealing with fossil fuels. We will be riding in an FBI Mobile Command center, estimated time of arrival is no sooner than 30 minutes, we advise that you meet up with David One and get your asses out of there. Over?" As the men wait on a response, the other man responds over the radio: I am receiving you officer Knight. Be advised there are multiple hostiles converging on my location if you can I would advise taking up an elevated position for soft target interdiction if at all possible. Otherwise you're going to have to signal me again when you are close so I can advise a proper course of action. There is also an extraction team on the way. Do not fire on any uninfected. I repeat, hold your fire on human targets.Yates speaks into the hand held next with a firm, and urgent voice "David one, this is Deputy Director Angelica Yates, get your ass out of there if possible. I understand you are in a tight spot, but you need to fight your way out of there. Do you copy?" she says with urgency. The situation is bad, she knows it, and if they don't get mobile soon, these men are in serious peril. Tossing the handheld to Robinson, she heads out turning to them and saying "I'm getting our guys ready, you two handle that situation, I'll have men ready within the next 10 minutes, just keep them alive" she says, and they look at her and say in unison "Yes ma'am"Yates meets up with Marsing pressing in a hurry she looks at him and says "We don't have any time left, we got two men in danger and we need to get a move on, tell me you got a decent field team ready to go?"Marsing nods quickly moving with her in her quick pace "We got 4 of our top shooters, one medical, and a driver who is prepping the mobile command vehicle as we speak Director." Marsing says as they round the corner into the command area. "Good, I'll expect to meet you all in the vehicle, I'm going to run to Director Shepard's office and alert him of the situation. Meet with the swat guys and head down to the garage, I'll be there as soon as possible" she says waving him off before he can speak, showing she means business and wants things to happen right away. Yates stops by a desk where a man is working on a computer setup that allows him quick access to all needed FBI field files. Yates speaks up to the man with a quickness "I'm going to need maps and building information sent immediately to the command vehicle, I'm going to need you walking us through this city at all times." She says, not expecting an answer only a nod and a "Yes Ma'am" which is given to her. [Location - Shepard's Office, 3rd Floor FBI Headquarters]"The sky seems rather empty this time of year, does it not?" The man says to Shepard. Shepard knew, if he didn't respond correctly in this situation, he was a dead man. The SIS were known for the competence and skill in dangerous situations, and knew information is an important resource, and they would never talk someone that isn't in complete trust to their nations best interest. So without hesitation Director Shepard said: "It is, but it's clearer in Autumn." which was passed to him by the Chief of the SIS. And only given to him. Which thankfully in his old age, his memory was not failing him. Shaking his head he adds to the conversation with a gentle tone: "Even with the world in a s*** storm, MI6 keeps it's act together, quite refreshing I must say."
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Post by .Merios on May 23, 2010 14:24:18 GMT -5
"It is, but it's clearer in Autumn." Bingo.
"Even with the world in a s*** storm, MI6 keeps it's act together, quite refreshing I must say."
Cameron gave a slight nod and a small laugh as he moved his attention to his briefcase, his fingers flitting amongst the numerous buttons on the front before a satisfying click was heard. He brought the briefcase up and opened it, setting it on his lap with the contents facing him. Within there was what looked like a netbook- not quite the size of a laptop, folded in the middle of a fitted foam sheet. To either side were several unremarkable vanilla folders and several pockets lined the top with pens, pencils etc.. He reached in and withdrew the netbook, with his right hand and moved his left hand in to grasp the files as he pulled them out. He closed the briefcase and set it next to his chair, placing the netbook on Shepard's desk and facing it towards him, placing the folders next to it.
"Sometimes, I think the need for security in a world like this isn't worth it. But when it comes down to it, this situation may be where it's needed most."
He stood up and began pacing the room, taking in it's contents. He disliked waiting in one place, which is ironic to say the least given his current occupation. He faced a shelf, looking it over as he placed his hands on his hips.
"I came to rendezvous with Special Agent Yates, all I know is a name, not a face."
He failed to make eye contact when he spoke, but rather looking over the man's books on one of the shelves. He noticed several autobiographies of famous dictators, keeping that in mind as he searched the walls- for the most part, the man kept his walls clean and clutter free compared to his superiors in England. He then meandered back to his chair but not quite sitting in it yet, he moved towards the back of it and planted his palms on the edge, leaning on it.
(The netbook contained combat data, levels of chemical components within various samples, locations of possible VIP's for extraction, names of deceased government Agents, video documentation of several United States Government Facilities and some recorded encounters with several then-unknown Bio Organic Weapons. There's almost 3 years of data.)
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SNAFÜ
Zombie Hunter
I'm gonna flank the hell outta you!
Posts: 133
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Post by SNAFÜ on May 23, 2010 15:10:52 GMT -5
It seemed to Joe that he picked a very raw spot to hide. He couldn't die though... He had yet to have his revenge against his creators. Also the prospect of being inexorably trapped and eaten while still alive sent him into a spiral of thought. He needed to get out of the gas station that was for sure, but to where? He glanced up at the door as a dried blood crusted, yellow fingernail having hand reached in and tried to push at the corner of his desk barricade. He put the mouth of his shotgun barrel outside of the door and let 00 buckshot rip through three of his undead assailants. He almost missed Angie's transmission due to the sound of the blast. Joe took one knee and listening very carefully at what Deputy Director Yates said.
"David one, this is Deputy Director Angelica Yates, get your ass out of there if possible. I understand you are in a tight spot, but you need to fight your way out of there. Do you copy?"
It took a few seconds for Joe to listen to the rest of the message. After the broadcast clipped out he decided that it was now or never if he wanted to get the hell out of the gas station. He reached over and took a grenade from the four that were clipped to the ALICE harness he wore. Joe offered a silent prayer up to whomever was watching and waited until the next infected attempted to reach in the door. Another crusty looking hand snaked its way inside, feeling around for anything to grab hold of. A bright idea popped in his head, he took a few steps towards the door while pulling and letting the spoon pop and held out the grenade. The zombie would pat the top of the grenade once and then snatch it from Joe. The zombie pulled the grenade back outside in order to examine its prize. It looked at the grenade with dull lifeless looking eyes, dropping it and then turning back to the door to start pushing again.
Goodnight you bastar...
The grenade would detonate mid-sentence, throwing the back of the crowd about two meters and sending Joe flying back on his ass a few feet back. The grenades explosion had pushed the desk back and almost crushed Joe against the cement wall. The man groaned a bit and planted his right foot against the desk, inching it back a few he would have enough room to stand up. His ears were ringing and he still a little dizzy from the shock of the blast. He stumbled a few paces forward and shook the fuzziness from his head. He shouldered the Remington and pulled the door knob open, yet the door merely fell out in front of him from having been loosed from its hinges. He pressed the transmit button on his bone mic and started outside...
This is David One. I've cleared the front entrance of infected and I'm moving out. Heading south on Main. I need a location Yates!
Knight if you copy I am on the move... Hold your fire when you see me. I'm going to be south on Main away from the chopper crash!
As on cue another of the infected came limping with suprising speed, only to be cut down at the knees as he came within range of Joe's Remington. The man turned not bothering to finish the "zed" off and started running down the street until his advisers could find a new route for him to take. The air was starting to get less acrid and smokey, giving Joe better opportunity to pace his breathing as he continued his "Death Jog" down the street.
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Post by Mikey on May 24, 2010 8:54:37 GMT -5
The call from David One rang in his ear through the throat mic system he wore as he ran down the street toward Zep’s gas station.
“I am receiving you officer Knight. Be advised there are multiple hostiles converging on my location if you can I would advise taking up an elevated position for soft target interdiction if at all possible. Otherwise you're going to have to signal me again when you are close so I can advise a proper course of action. There is also an extraction team on the way. Do not fire on any uninfected. I repeat, hold your fire on human targets.” The man on the other end of the radio came back with.
“Roger that, locating position now.” He said through his controlled breathing. He looked around for a building anywhere that had a good vantage on the area ahead. Preferably a two story next to a one story. He wasn’t seeing any. The buildings around here were all tall, packed together like block space was at a premium. He figured the one at the end of this block would be good enough. A few blocks wouldn’t be much to David One. He was military, by the sound of his voice. Not to mention his chopper had crashed. Dead giveaway. The military was the only ones around with helicopters nowadays. He got to the door of the building and was about to breech when he heard more transmissions.
"Officer Knight, we read you, Lieutenant Bryant Clark DC Swat here, will advise dangerous situation, zed hotspot. Will make our way to the American Petroleum Institute as it's a safer building and built to withstand destruction due to the nature of dealing with fossil fuels. We will be riding in an FBI Mobile Command center, estimated time of arrival is no sooner than 30 minutes, we advise that you meet up with David One and get your asses out of there. Over?" He heard someone new say. Someone with the Deputy in the FBI hideout. All the better. Not just a bunch of agents, but some guys who didn’t mind doing the dirty work. He was liking the situation more and more. That was if they got out of here on time. American Petroleum Institute. Had to be close, if that was the rally point.
“This is David One. I've cleared the front entrance of infected and I'm moving out. Heading south on Main. I need a location Yates! Knight if you copy I am on the move... Hold your fire when you see me. I'm going to be south on Main away from the chopper crash!” He heard David One come back with. It was a regular party line. Totally welcome after he hadn’t heard a human voice in… god, had it been a month? He’d lost track of days. Sometimes driving all night, sometimes sleeping and waking up, not sure if it was dawn or dusk.
“I’m coming onto main now.” He yelled into his radio, cutting into the street and looking around. He saw the figure running toward him, jerking his body and weapon in that direction on instinct before his eyes could register. The figure wearing a BDU from what he could tell. Harrison jerked his hand in the air and waved over to David One. He stood and waited for David One to even out, searching the area for lurking threats as he did. When the crash survivor got close, Harrison started running with him.
“American Petrol Institute is the rally point.” He said. They were on main street. It had to be here somewhere. As he jerked his head from side to side analyzing buildings, he got a chance to take a look at his new companion. Jesus. This was just a kid. Well trained, sure. Carried himself well. But f**k… Of course it took him a moment to recollect that he had only been nineteen when he was shipped out to Vietnam. Killed a man before he was twenty. Killed over twenty before he was twenty one. The s*** that happened in a war…
“There!” He snapped out, jerking his hand to the building in site. That and the number of walkers that he approximated at ten. Nothing big, they could handle it. But it’d send twenty times that right to their doorstep. Decisions decisions.
“Any input?” He asked, seeing as this guy was keen on telling him what to do, a minor annoyance that he dealt with. A was zone wasn’t the time for a ****ing match. A briefing room? Different story.
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Post by .Merios on Jun 12, 2010 13:42:11 GMT -5
After giving the Director his Netbook, Cameron bowed out and turned to the door, walking towards it a few feet and moving his hand to the knob- he didn't quite turn it. "Take care, Director." He turned the knob and pulled the heavy door open, walking through it and shutting it behind him. He headed down the hallway towards the elevator at the far end, relieved that a major part of his mission was now over. He isn't supposed to go back to Great Britain for quite a while, and at the moment he's flying blind; he is supposed to rendezvous with a contact sometime soon, but he didn't know who they were or what they looked like. A spy's life, it seems.
He slid into the elevator as another man pressed the lobby button. Cameron stood next to him, looking him over. The man lifted an eyebrow at Cameron as the elevator began to descend. Within seconds, the elevator came to a stop with a loud ding and the man hurriedly rushed off, clutching his briefcase and heading for an office down the way. Cameron stepped out of the elevator and walked across the entrance way, nodding to the cute secretary before moving to the large double doors. The heavily armed guards standing on either side nodded and pushed open the door, allowing Cameron to step out. He gave a sigh of relief as his feet touched desecrated ground. He was home again. He moved to sling his briefcase around his back and snapped the strap together and he was off, heading South.
[Cameron has now left Washington DC]
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Post by tyranid on May 26, 2011 21:50:13 GMT -5
Since no one is in this post, I am just goin to start doing my first rp, anyone can join)
"here we are, the FBI building," joshua said over the radio playing a offspring CD. The track was nothingtown. The FBI, or federal bas of the infected, as the merc community around these parts called it, was a dump, like every other federal building in DC. Sand bags and spent shells littered the area, telling the tale of a massive scale defense to keep the building running.
"well, let's gets going, I am not liking this place," David mumbled, opening the door and putting on his ballistic mask, a dark mask with flame arching around the face,"
Joshua was unerved by David, he is normally roaring to go on missions, somthing must not be good. Joshua shrugged, and grabbed his Stryker and stepped out of the car.
As they approached, they kneeled next to a crashed Humm-Vee, its carriage caved in from a telephone pole landing on it.
" Looks like G.I. put up quite the fight," Joshua said, looking through the back window, the only sign of life in the hummer was blood stains on the window and seats.
" come on, let's grab the package and just get out, before this mission goes FUBAR," said David.
Roger that," Joshua replied,
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Post by soldier on May 27, 2011 12:53:12 GMT -5
"This is DECIPLE 6, Area is clear" Chris said to COM LUNER. They just cleared the building of Mutants, they had also gotten the bodies from a Convory not too far from the FBI area. The only problem was there was a over grown snake outside of the building. "Be Advised. Armada Sniper Team has eyes on two strays. We still do not have eyes on Tango in the area, might be back tracking the guys down there." Chris sigh. You got to be kidding me, Damnit Josh! It was always Joshua and David, arriving at the last second. Dispite the fact that the Mercs rome Washington D.C. it was always PMCs buissness that the area was clear and operation since the infected had there chances with the president and tearing the rest of the Goverment up. He had only wish it were Russians invading. "Solid Copy, I'll be out there with a team to escort the muts. Out." He pointed at John and Terrance from the company "With me" They both followed him out the front door he placed them on over watch at front and flipped the thermal down. As well hidden they might be, Chris could see there heat signature, hell, that snake could have heard them from miles. He ran as quietly as he could down the road with his M4 raised making sure they weren't being snuffed out or being set up by an ambush. until he got there. "Joshua," He looked at him lowering his weapon to the point were he wasn't making a threat to them but be able to bring it back up again. Then he looked at David. "douche bag" he said jokingly. He was always known to joke with David, since they had paid the guys to run Recons a few times back in his day in the Rangers.
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