The Mission

[Necromancyr]

The Mission 1;

The door security gave way with a quiet pop and a black clad figure slipped through the now open door. The figures outline blurred, than its silhouette faded to match the cheap blue paint peeling off of the rockcrete walls of the building. A quick glance confirmed that the entry room was empty, save for racks of crates and shipping containers. The nano field surrounding the figure rippled as a slim metal box was pulled from a thigh pocket. The device hummed quietly, and quick scan of the area confirmed that no electronic or nano devices were present.

The agents lips curled into a disapproving grimace. 'Idiots', he thought to himself, you would think they would do something about security. Quickly slipping the box back into its pocket, the agent crept toward one of the doors leading from the room. A quick glance to his HUD showed the agent two human signatures in the next room. Both of them showed a neutral white on his display, and his augmented hearing could pick out traces of conversation. The white symbols indicated that they were not the primary targets, but his orders were clear on what needed to be done to the inhabitants of this office complex. 'No', he thought, 'not yet'. Quietly, the agent retraced his steps and moved to the second door exiting the storeroom. The second door was locked, but a glance at his HUD showed the room beyond the door to be empty.

The nano field surrounding him rippled again as the agent pulled another tool from a pocket. The doors lock gave way with brief electronic click, and the agent quietly slid the panel open and slipped into the darkened room beyond. The camouflaged figure crept forward, a brief mental impulse brought the room into green tinged focus as night vision gear activated. A brief survey of the room revealed it to be yet another storeroom, nano-fiber boxers strewn about it haphazard stacks. A door on the opposite wall was the only other exit, and the agent carefully picked his way across the cluttered storeroom to the far door. The room beyond registered a single human signature on the agent’s HUD, the symbol a flashing gold diamond, indicating a Primary target. With a single smooth motion, the agent unslung and readied a grim looking rifle, its sighting system flaring to life and overlaying another set of symbols on the agents display.

The agent carefully approached to door, and smoothly dropped into a firing stance as the auto-opener on the door triggered. Inside the room, a young man in a rumpled black sweater sat behind a desk staring intently at a computer terminal. As the door whisked open, the man jerked back in his chair, startled at the sound. As he began to turn, the agent’s rifle coughed twice, the sound hardly more than a whisper. The sweater clad man jerked sideways in his chair, as ugly wounds blossomed in his neck and chest. He was dead before he slid bonelessly from his chair and dropped to the floor with a quiet thump.

[Necromancyr]

The Mission 2;

The agent paused, his head cocked at an angle as he listened for any sounds of alarm. No shouts of alarm, no warning klaxons, nothing at all. His augmented hearing could still pick out the sounds of the conversation from the hallway. A quick glance at his HUD showed no increase in electronic or nano emissions. No one had noticed a thing. The agent smiled quietly to himself.

Quickly he moved to the prone figure behind the desk, his hands moving almost mechanically as they dropped the magazine from the rifle and replaced it with a fresh clip. The black clad figure swept around the desk, the rifle describing a smooth arc, covering the body on the floor. The young man lay sprawled on his back, sightless eyes staring at the ceiling, with a look of profound shock etched on his cooling features.

The agent knelt at the bodies’ side, rifle barrel pressed to the corpses head. A quick scan of the mans life signs confirmed his death, and the agent slung his rifle with a quick motion and began searching the corpse. With quick, deft motions, the agent emptied out the corpse’s pockets, stripped off the communicator, and patted down the figure looking for any other items. Finding nothing else, the agent reached into another cargo pocket and produced another boxlike device. Snapping it open into two halves, it revealed a small view screen suspended between the halves of the device. Passing it over the corpse, the agent stared intently at the screen as pictures of the corpses implants swam up into the screen. With a satisfied nod, the black clad figure snapped the halves of the device back together and slid it back into its pocket.

With a sweep of his hand, the agent spread out the contents of the corpse’s pockets in front of him on the floor. With quick motions, he separated the contents out into two piles, and then began sorting the contents of the second stack with more interest. The sorting and inspection stopped as the agent splayed out three identification badges. The first badge was a student id card from Omni University, Rubi-Ka. Beneath a smiling picture of the dead man, the name Jan Markus and title Graduate Assistant could be made out in the dim light. The second card displayed the same smiling picture, but this one was for Tir University, and identified the owner as one Jan Moorehouse, also a Graduate Assistant. The third card was another identification badge, this one again displaying the young mans picture, but naming him Jan Borealis, and displaying JAME in simple block letter below his name.

[Necromancyr]

The Mission 3;

The agent turned to the computer terminal on the desk, and the stacks of pict-slates and hardcopy beside it. The black clad form quickly and efficiently pawed through the stacks on the desk, noting the number of eco-centric publications as well as come conspiracy-themed periodicals. The agent stopped when he came to a personal assistant comp. Quickly scanning the device for anything unusual, he grinned again as he found nothing. ‘Total amateurs’ he thought to himself. Thumbing the power switch, the agent stared intently at the names and contact information that flickered up in the assistants screen. Satisfied with his find, that agent produced a small bag from yet another pocket and dumped the assistant in it. Turning his attention to the computer, the agent quickly sorted through files, looking intently at the items that flashed up. Switching the gridmail of the dead man, he scanned quickly through the contents. ‘Jackpot’ he thought to himself, another grin flashing across his features. Quickly powering down the terminal, the agent produced a multitool form one of his cargo pockets and with quickly slashed open the supposedly secure case protecting the computers innards. Two more quick moves, and the systems nano-memory core and storage matrix disappeared into the black bag, joining the personal assistant.

With a final glance at the desk, the agent then move quickly around the room, once again sliding one of his detectors from its pocket and playing it about the walls, floor, and ceiling. The room was swept in just a few seconds, revealing nothing extraordinary. As an afterthought, the agent turned and opened the door to the fresher closet, and swept the device around the small room. Unexpectedly, a blue light flashed on the device. Frowning, the agent moved closer to the far wall, waving the device around until it centered on the mirror above the sink. Examining the mirror, the agent slid his fingers around the perimeter of the mirror, and stopped as he discovered a raised catch along the top of the frame. Pressing the catch, the agent grinned again, as the mirror swung away from the wall and revealed a shallow closet built into the wall.

The grin slowly faded to a frown as he peered at the contents of the small space. An Electronicum pistol and a strange rod of pale blue crystal sat there. The frown grew deeper as the agent swept up the rod and saw the small symbols etched over every surface of the strange crystal. The crystal and the pistol were swept into the black bag, joining the confiscated computer equipment.

[Necromancyr]

The Mission 4;

The agent slipped back into the room, then froze as a gentle knock was rapped out on the door to the hall. “Jan?” a muffled voice inquired, “Hey Jan you awake?” The agent darted a hand into another pocket and pulled out a bulky object. A strange block of clear plastic filled with swirling blue liquid, the device made and odd thumping noise as it was placed on the desk. With a deft flourish, the agent clipped a small computer chip to the side of the block, then quickly swung his rifle back up to cover the door, as the knocking grew more insistent. “Jan, something funny is going on with our gridfeed, Kim thinks we might be getting tapped”, the voice sounded scared, almost panicked. “Dammit Jan, wake up!” A buzz sounded and the door panel hissed open.

A haggard opifex male stood in the door, clad in a stained lab coat. His eyes widened in shock as he saw the body sprawled on the floor, and then his expression turned to horror as he saw the black figure standing to the side of the door, rifle pointed at his face.

A cold voice came from behind the rifle. “Name?”

“F-F-Frank” stammered the lab coated opifex, his eyes fixated on the muzzle of the rifle.

“Ok Frank, where is she?”, the cold voice asked.

“W-what, who are you….” Frank stammered, his face going even paler as the black clad figured stepped closer to him, the barrel of the rifle only centimeters from his face.

“Don’t jerk me around Frank” the cold voice hissed back, anger coloring the words, “I know who you are, and we both know who I’m talking about”

Frank’s face was now so pale it was almost colorless. From down the hall, a woman’s voice called out; “Frank what are you doing? Where is Jan?”

Frank flashed a look down the hall at the speaker, then snapped his gaze back to the ominous barrel floating in front of his face.

The woman’s voiced floated back down the hall. “Frank, whats wrong?” There was a trace of fear in her voice now.

Frank tore his gaze from the muzzle of the rifle and glared at the agent. “Where is she Frank?” the voice hissed. A shudder ran through Franks body and he closed his eyes briefly. Franks expression was one of despair as he opened his eyes again and glared back at the agent. “Go to hell”

The rifle coughed once.

The sinister black figure swept past Franks body, slumped in the doorway, one of his feet twitched in brainless tic. Stepping past the fan of blood and cauterized tissue that marked Franks demise, the agent saw a young woman standing halfway down the corridor. Fear was written on her face as she struggled vainly to draw a pistol from the pocket of her lab coat. The pistol snagged on the fabric of the coat, and the woman looked up at the agent as she struggled to pull the gun free from its fabric prison. Her mouth opened in prelude to a scream as she saw the rifle sweep up, centering on her. With strength born of blind fear, she wrenched at the trapped pistol, and was rewarded with the sound of tearing cloth. Everything seemed to go into slow motion as she dragged the pistol up toward the black figure stalking toward her.

The rifle coughed.

[Necromancyr]

The Mission 5;

A black clad figure slipped silently trough an alley, deeper into Omni-1, as behind him sirens sounded. Following several twists and turns, the figure emerged in a poorly lit cul-de-sac and walked quickly to the battered Yalm parked there.

Slipping behind the controls, the agent spun up the engine, and the battered yalm rose quickly into the night sky. The agent quickly slipped into the traffic pattern, and sat watching, looking for signs of pursuit. After watching for several minutes, the agent slid back in his seat, satisfied he was clear.

Flipping a console to life, the agent punched in a series of codes, then a number. Three tries, and the line picked up.

“Yes?” the voice was rendered flattened and harsh sounding by the scrambler.

“Its done. I have some of the information, and some new questions” the agent replied.

“And your dates?” the voice asked.

“I made the first, the second stood me up” the agents voice betrayed his irritation.

“Do you know where she is?”

The agent sighed, “Jobe, I imagine”. Retrieving the ID cards from his pocket, the agent stared at them for a moment as the open channel hissed.

“I can confirm that JAME has been infiltrated by their organization, and Omni-Education as we suspected”. The agent tucked the cards back into a pocket, once again checking his screens for signs of a tail.

“And?” the flattened voice asked.

“The Redeemed are involved somehow, without our second actor I cannot determine how much or in what matter, but I have conclusive proof they are” the agent replied, staring briefly at the strange crystalline rod in his black bag. “I have their records and data, as well as contact information for other possible members of their organization”.

The line hissed for several seconds before the voice responded again.

“Good. Excellent work. Use the second drop spot for the gear. The safehouse is Rome 7-17”

“Roger that, 7-17” the agent let himself relax, just a little. As he reached to shut down the line, the voice spoke again.

“Necromancyr”

The agent flinched at the use of his handle. “Yes?” he snapped, irritated by the breach.

The line hissed again for a few seconds.

“FIND her”

And the line went dead.

Even flattened and distorted by the scrambler, Necromancyr heard the tone of the speakers voice. And he shuddered.

[Necromancyr]

((ooc: comments appreciated. Continue?))

[Dabblez]

/ooc
Feedback is a really fickle mistress. Its all pretty random. Readers don't quite understand how important it can be to ther writer and just putting a simple comment like "I enjoyed your story" can feel rather lame.

One thing I would say is, and make what you will of it: I think it helps sell your story if it has a flashy title and a strong opening line. The BACK button so close to hand, you really got to grab the readers attention fast. With an understated title (The Mission) and slow unveiling of a larger conspiracy, the risk is that you lose impatient readers before they even get to the juicy part.

But even that doesn't not necessarily hold true. Even silly things like posted a story on a patch day may make a difference in tersm of how much fedback you get back.

At the end fo the day though, the only person you really need to please is yourself. Write if it makes you happy, if not don't.

[Mire]

I would say keep going! I like your writing style, and flow of the story.