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Post by Big Boss, Lord of Light on Nov 19, 2008 9:31:37 GMT -5
The Fox Archipelago is a small chain of four islands that are thirty or so kilometres off of the coast of Alaska. It is owned entirely by the US military and is home to Navy SEALs when they learn about Siberian and freezing point temprature water survival and combat.
The largest of the islands, Isle Aetos, is the airport island where military jets come and go from.
The second largest island is Isle Kiron where the SEALs learn all of their training.
The third largest island is Isle Evadne, which is the barracks for the training SEALs.
The smallest island is Isle Bellanca, and is the command post for the entirety of the Fox Archipelago.
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Post by #+h3 M!$+3r P@r@d0x on Jul 22, 2012 14:03:26 GMT -5
The sky had blackened in a bellow of fire and smoke with each abyssal round fired from the mortars stationed on nearby mounds. Loud, obnoxious ricochets of shells hammering the area all around was more than enough to drive a posh non-militant civilian insane. Surely, the stage of this conflict did not call for the amount firepower hammering the distance in droves. No, surely it was only one man of extreme wealth showing the other man whom had been blindsided how much bigger his stick was. A stick that had been collecting for years. A stick that may or may not have been saved for this very point and time. This was how it was and how it was always meant to be. One man waited for the opportunity to capitalize while the other used indirect fire to keep the masses at bay without so much a wasting a single valuable life in the process. Cannon fire after cannon fire proved nothing more than that the man who owned the weapons owned the conflict. This conflict had technically been over since the first well-measured blow but would continue to drive on. It would most likely lead to destruction reigning supreme. Tricell controlled Yellowknife had completely fallen. There was no hope for them to regain the lost ground any time soon.
Many people had died through this bloody Civil War conflict that had occurred mere days ago. Ascension had taken complete control in a matter of hours without hesitation or warning. The main parameters of the wide open yet well hidden Operation being the total occupation of Yellowknife and the surrounding areas. As much as it contradicts itself, the secondary function of the mission was minor field testing of advanced communication jamming devices. All this becoming a growing threat to the Peace of the People while Tricell Elite used their outdated and semi-advanced equipment to attempt to retaliate and reduce loss of common ground. The effort to restore the order that Tricell desperately fought for was all in vain when numerous accounts of Ascension Loyalists displaying counter-measures began to appear all over North American soil. There were never any failed attempts to drive out Tricell and Ascension had certainly displayed the Bigger Stick time and time again. It had all happened so quickly that radar never caught onto it until it was too late. It had seemed that Ascension had proven the point that The America’s would soon fall under one unified banner.
Yellowknife was at the center of it all. But, even though the Serpent that wore the crown jewels of Ascension claimed the city as his own, he did not choose to nest there in his Imperial City as of yet. He was a hands on kind of man, and he had much more work to coordinate before Yellowknife became his permanent residence. Many protocols were put into place to ensure that both discipline and moral were of the utmost importance amongst his Loyalists. Though his absence was apparent to the majority of his force- no one ever denied that fact that all of it was made possible by his planning.
Seizing Yellowknife and the surrounding areas issued a large sum of trade resources that could evenly be distributed to multiple Ascension Bases and Settlements around the world. For every one of Tricell Operated Settlements, Laboratories, or Military Depots- Ascension had laid claim to a quarter of them during the first wave of deceptive attacks. All organized assaults against these based operations moving flawlessly and without fail. No intentional bio-organic weaponry being leaked in the process which meant no messes to be cleaned up save for the amounts of dead left in the wake of death.
This is where the journey from Minneapolis had led Marlboro to further reach out to the Neo-Organizations of the World. To understand the future of things you must first have knowledge of the past. To understand the past, you must conduct business in the present. The present was now and Marlboro had work to do even during all this conflict. There was no rest for the wicked.
Seventy-Two Plus Hours Later
Area of Location : Off the Coast of the Fox Archipelago
Location: The Ice-Breaker Research Ship “Gabriel”
The event that was to take place had been organized prior to the events that had unfolded in the last week. Numerous Neo-Organizations and Chairmen of State or Country Military Remnants would be summoned to a invitational gathering to discuss the newest series of Biological and Advanced Weaponry on the market. This invitational was not something that was prejudice to Minor Terrorist Cells or Neo-Organizations. The floor that was permitted for trade was open to any and all forms of Groups or Military Factions that had a need for the weaponry sold. Marlboro was a strong believer in supplying Cain with enough firepower to kill Able and Abel’s Followers with the Biological Weaponry to seek the revenge needed on Cain. The cycle of supplying weapons to both factions to kill one another was something that had kept him afloat over the decade in the trade business. The common grounds of this floor was simple though- the display and get together was always met on Neutral Grounds. No one ever dared break the rules of the Trade Agreement on Neutral Grounds.
The ships defenses were a little excessive to say the least. The outer areas were guarded by minimal human security, eight Loyalist total and a handful of state of the art sentry weaponry to ensure complete safety of the main and sub-decks. The inner workings of the Ice-Breaker were all heavily guarded by Tricell Elite at one point and time but now the active roster had been changed to Ascension Loyalists and a variation of Umbrella ’Sweepers’ who were under the direct orders of the Ascension Loyalists. There were most likely Twenty or so Loyalists who each had access to seven armed ’Sweepers’ a piece. Every Loyalist and Sweeper were armed with a assortment of both ’Deadly’ and ’Stun’ Weaponry. Every active trooper that was designated to guard the parameter had strict protocols to follow in worst case scenario and was fitted to exercise extreme prejudice without warning. In layman’s terms the moving fortress was tighter than Fort Knox in terms of a assault.
Within the confines of the ship rested the Auditorium which was capable of seating forty individuals around the show-floor below. The seating arrangements were designed to mimic that of a Council chamber with four floors that stepped up and each floor containing two seat and a crescent shaped desk. The desks were fitted with a communication’s microphone as well as a LCD Monitor to show logistics and statistical values of the weapon being displayed. Another key element to each desk that EVERYONE was familiar with was the lockdown priority set in motion to deliver a extreme electrical impulse to anyone within the confines in case of a security breach. Numerous other devices have been known to exist but most are not ballsy enough to test them all.
At this very point and time the demonstrations have gone fluidly. A large number of physical weaponry as well as explosive ordinance had been sold to multitudes of Factions but the best was yet to come.
Marlboro had remained on the main staging ground holding a remote control in his hand while addressing the full house of potential buyers. His choice of attire for this affair was a crisp and clean black and white vest and shirt combo with a dark formal jacket and black slacks. Shoes Italian leather polished to a gleaming shine. Cufflinks were apparent with each one resembling a Tricell and Umbrella logo respectively on each wrist- a apparent mockery nonetheless. A ivory white earpiece rested snugly in his right ear with a microphone stalk trailing toward the top right corner of his mouth for communication purposes. His hair was kept formal and combed backward with a slick shine as usual. Dark near transparent shades covered his eyes with a thin frame to hold them together. Rings and other assorted jewelry covered his hands in wrist while the Ascension Variant of a Rolex rested on his off-hand. Marlboro had made sure to wear a tight fitting ballistics vest beneath his suit that could ward from weapons fire and stabbing attempts in worst case scenario.
The man known as Hammond Marlboro had paced the floor for a second before revealing the final showcase of the night, his eyes trailing the rafters and various locations were his personal guards were posted. Superhuman and Human alike- perhaps even two BOWS that were capable of posing as Humans without verbal conduct. Safety was in order for the last piece of the evening to fall into place. Marlboro was ready and signaled that by clearing his throat.
“ Ladies and Gentleman, all that you have come to see on this night is nothing in comparison to what I am to reveal to you. You have witnessed weaponry capable of mass destruction with a push of a button. Creatures capable of rendering entire squads of enemy troops inoperable and devouring them from the inside out. You have witness Armored Combat Vehicles that can travel through practically any terrain at anytime. What you are about to witness will not only leave you in awe-” Marlboro paused for a brief second to run his eyes around the room and gaze into hollow eyes of all the buyers, “- But it will redefine EVERYTHING that you have come to fear.”
A soft click of the button initiated every terminal to bare witness to a staggering undead inside of a reinforced containment hovel.
The undead on display being that of a female whom had been collected prior to the exhibition.
The undead female’s Faction was represented by tattered BSAA clothing which appeared slightly dingy and was grotesquely covered in gore and bile from what was to be guessed as a prior meal. The skin that covered her entire body was pale like Death Itself yet resembled absolutely NO serious decomposition or laceration damage of any kind. The clocked time of her transformation from human to undead most likely fell somewhere between two to four hours and otherwise proved she was a fresh undead that had been kept onboard and forcefully injected with T-Virus. Soft blonde hair seemed to be losing color but otherwise was vibrant and natural in appearance. Her eyes were a hollow slate, blank of emotion as she stared at the ground without movement other than a gentle sway.
“ Who you see before you is Agent Angela Young who has embraced that wild nature of Progenitors offspring, the T-Virus. Many of you are familiar with the nature of the T-Virus Carriers on a near intimate level. They are nearly brain dead and are driven by the primal urge to continue feeding. Over a period of time some of them decompose and rot while other evolve into what Umbrella has coined the name ’Crimson Heads.’ As Crimson Heads, the level of danger that the original Zombie is capable of permitting skyrockets- speed is increased- feeding is increased- and a feral rage shows that did not exist prior to transformation,” Marlboro spoke in a dry tone of voice as he addressed the people, “ But, Allow me to now introduce you to a Weapon that will not allow force that said evolution-”
Marlboro clicked the button to the side to signal the release of a Biological Weapon into the container with the undead female. The Weapon in which that resembled a thick purple gaseous cloud of vapors. Swirling within the confines of the chambers it made a effort to seep into the nasal and mouth cavities of the undead without a single breath being issued from the undead specimen. The thick vapor substance created a wall of intrigue around the specimen and blocked her from view for a moments time.
Then, when the ’smoke’ settled- where a stumbling undead once stood was a ferocious beast scraping and clawing for release. The specimen now bore battle scars of visible tumors and cancerous growths that seemed to split from her skin. Advanced stages of muscle accelerations more than tripled the visible muscle mass of the subjects while slightly distorting her limbs into that of a prime ape format. The eyes of the subject gathered a semi-glowing green hue will the jaw increased in size- dangerously sharp teeth replacing the human formatted series. Her back was now arched with the spine showing to be bulky and extremely sturdy. The skin seemed to be splitting from itself and allowing the tightly gathered muscles from beneath to show more prominently. What was once the standard stumbling undead had seemed to reach the elevated stages of ‘Crimson Head’ within seconds through a forced method. The creature was now more dangerous than anything the majority of these people had ever witnessed. Her evolution would go down in the history of weapons trades.
“- But exceed it altogether,” Marlboro crossed his hands behind his back and then stared blankly in the distance at the organized troops that he had set in motion prior to the exhibit. He then continued with, “ Now. Who would like the start the bidding with 4 Billion in Resources for 100 Canisters?”
The biddings had started, thus Marlboro had took in stride a walk across the floor and to the side tabled where he would light a cigarette and wait for the numbers to pour in.
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Post by Lunapocalypse on Jul 24, 2012 9:13:02 GMT -5
Diversion | Hot Hands
Frozen sea surrounded the steel beast floating in icy water. Even with it being night, light of the moon reflected off the shimmering surface supplying a tranquil view of the landscape upon descent; snow beat out in droves from the violent swat of helicopter rotars. The real temperature would not be properly appreciated until disembarking. Several other choppers had already arrived while others would fashionably be late. High rollers were given the deck, while others were asked to park on the ice and catch the limo. Nobody from any one faction properly addressed each other; they simply marched on in silence as the invisible war mongers they were.
The deck was devoid of life besides those invited. One could be forgiven for mistaking it as a ghost ship; although presumably if any deck hand personal were seen by the wealthy they would be taken to the snow and shot. Appearance always held the key; after stepping through the threshold and into the luxurious sector the invited could altogether forget they had boarded a ship. Environment control kept the atmosphere warm and pleasant; yet for most such pleasantries did not grow inside of them. Jackets and capes were taken as the grim individuals descended into the belly of Gabriel. Everything was clean cut. One could feel the manipulative nature seep through the steel and plaster, its designer's ambitions and goals. Enough to make anyone feel insignificant; although the people who walked the halls this night were far to self-important to notice grand details.
Flutter and clicks of footsteps and heels resonated in the grand auditorium as the invited filed into their locations, already aware of the seating arrangements. Bidding was about to begin. When nothing but the hum of the ship and its multiple processes could be heard the cue of their humble host came to pass, walking into the light of the shadows. Their broker. Here to reveal what arts and crafts would be on display. The first item of interest was underway.
Forgiving the nature of everyone in the room was difficult; having grown up during the depression caused such a habit. Conflict was truly different in this day and age. It was like a Christmas truce - minus the beer 'o'clock. Dozens of shadowy gods all gathering under one roof for a day of business; ideals seemed nothing but lost to them. The only order was to attain power, surprisingly no heat grew when one outbid another; perhaps it came from the hush nature of the auction.
A bid would either be made via console or a raise of the hand - rarely would someone speak for the sake of monetary statement. A grocery list of Bio-weapons and WMDs were cycled through; pleasant surprises were made. It was impossible to see with the naked eye; everybody had their poker face on; this was no different to trading cattle. Yet that glint in the eye always escaped; a hint of destructive nature. The odds of everybody in the room being somewhat megalomaniac hovered around 90%.
Amongst the bioluminescent light vibrating from each terminal in the room one remained switched off. A lone man, slicked brown hair and charcoal turtleneck - out from his volcano lair for a night of window shopping - laid back, legs crossed, leaned on his elbow in contrast to every other posture perfect and polite person observing the goods on offer. Logan could not honestly share a shred of interest over the auction. He was here for a far different bid; arriving to see the nemesis of his pride.
Illiad Enterprise's shady underground bought entry into the VIP auction. It would appear strange when the unnamed shareholder, and owner, opted for such an excursion without anything being purchased; the board of directors would eventually dismiss it. Had 'Personal Gain' been written down for the excavation of funds the request would have been turned away. This was far more important to be so honest about. Had such a means of holding his savings not been required it would not have been a problem. To his displeasure Kellner had to tell a little white lie. Remain invisible in motive. He wanted nothing more but to show a true vision of the future; yet that vision was something which needed to be found out by itself. All he could do was observe.
Observe well he would. Logan watched stage left, a man wrapped up in his own business bringing in the resources for his own ideals via his own manifestations. He admired the man - this man, the bane of Logan's own creation. This was a living, breathing definition; his importance unknown to himself; existence imperative. For him to graze the ire of Progenitor destined the paramount. Every other person in the room was worthless.
Hammond Marlboro announced the final item on the evening's menu; well playing toward it; leaving the show prize for the last hurrah. Until now every object in the brochure had been typical, expectant of conventional weaponry, another upgrade in technology and biochemistry; the normality of innovation. It could not be helped if Logan was unintrigued by the spoils of war mongering; as far as he were concerned, the greatest achievement was done and dusted by his own hand. Yet he had not spared much thought for what broiled in the mind of the black cat centre stage; what of his own creations. When the average zombie was hoisted into view, Kellner sat forward.
A Mexican wave of a scowl was nearly felt. Zombies. People wanted something far more efficient than zombies. Too many people on earth knew how to deal with zombies just as much as they knew how to eat, breathe and sleep. This simple concept was what caused Kellner's interests to pique; something far more rewarding waited underneath the opening facade. Something the vintage man believed would only cause him to admire the adversary even more.
The truth was extravagantly revealed at the stroke of a button. Mist poured into the poor departed's enclosure, engulfing the pale, soulless shell in its ever presence swimming around the glass. It seemed to have a mind of its own, doing whatever it felt entitled to, and otherwise snapped a chain around the undead's neck - pulling. The rest of the room had finally joined Logan on the edge of his seat.
Drooling from the mouth, both the V-ACT and bidders. This made zombies obsolete; in fact, it made them much more than that. This catalyst made them relevant. Zombies would no longer be the ugly by-product of searching for the ultimate being, they could be harnessed into a powerful weapon sure to apply pressure on a nasty vessel someone wanted squashed. Logan held a look of bewilderment on his face, sinking back into his seat. It held for a moment as his eyes glazed over; then he smirked.
People were quick to weigh in after the opening bid. Without giving too much away that he had not been paying direct attention Logan flicked on his monitor. The digital counter for how high the price was climbed quickly. Shareholders wrung their hands red. Activity in the room had boomed to its highest in the neutral gathering, the buzz of ineligible words could be heard between buyers and their partners and executives. He looked around without much turning his head, watching the slaughter of sorts. Marlboro sat in his own veil of content ignoring the many cling to their meat.
Coarse scrapes itched against his thumb as Logan rubbed his stubble in consideration. In juxtaposition, Marlboro would not hold the same esteem Kellner did for the other; it was inappropriate to display how much one person brooded over another. At the very least, Logan was intent on leaving an impression. His hands idly hovered over the keyboard, subtle finger flicks dotting in a new figure for the hell mongers to fight over. 1 billion resources over the last. This surge in price left the largest pause since the bidding had begun; and he was not even warmed up.
Another bid finally sunk in, reasonable in scope, enough to have the rest toss in their chips. Logan let their sweat turn to vapor for a moment before dropping another 1 billion resources into the total cash pool. Another pause. The price tag on this weapon had already reached 10 billion before 3 minutes had barely passed. Yet they were hungry, the counter began climbing faster than the clock. Every once in a while the cat would fit a little more money into the bulging wallet until finally a voice: "20 billion," came a stern Russian accent. It caught plenty off guard yet the retort which followed came as no surprise, "21!" a meek in personality but powerful Croatian female spoke above the Russian, "22!"
Murder continued, Logan still fed the flock with anger. A game changer sat within their grasp, and as much as anyone had to spare it eventually simmered. 45.7 billion resources, jumping via millions now. Only a handful of people participated at this stage; slowly that group whittled down to two. He was curious to know who would egg on so far; oddly enough, Logan's question was about to be answered.
A burning sensation at the back of his neck; eyes peering in, a ray of hatred demanding he hold back his hand. Who could possibly hold so much resent? Kellner scratched the hairs of his neck using it as a ice breaker to ease around and see who the perpetrator was.
A woman; her collar frilled with arctic fur causing her to appear much more aristocratic than she deserved, and in turn meshing with her beautiful blond hair; quickly she portrayed the most vibrant picture in the room. Their eyes locked perfectly aware of each other's vindictive qualities. Her fringe fell down over her right eye giving her near enigmatic attributes; her aggravation could not be hidden behind those ice, blue eyes unfortunately. Without paying attention Logan tapped another figure into the counter and watched as her scorn improved. Still she persevered.
"Remarkable," Logan regressed, mumbling in an unimpressed tone while turning away from her. His humor had been worn thin. The time had arrived to put a plug in this affair. Leaning forwards and addressing the underused mic available to all parties, the vintage man spoke, "60 billion pounds,"
A detestable word was vaguely heard from the woman who shuffled in her seat. Logan's expression held the utmost solemness. He dared anyone else to challenge him.
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