Used to dealing with Operative Füma, sometimes known as Crazy Horse among U.S. operatives, the military rep was happy to get to the point and lay down things in simple terms. “There was a prototype of certain technologies going to the coalition zone for live testing. Bomb Disposal, prototype APCs designed to withstand adverse modern conditions and counter-sniper and mortar sensors. That sort of thing. The prototypes were being escorted by by research scientists of the companies involved.”
Finished with the intro, an island off the east coast of Russia, a fair bit northwest of Japan was brought up on screen. “This is the fortified military research island Lasria. For quite a few years it’s been rogue and under quarantine, mostly by the Russian military, their problem, they want to handle it. The military forces on the island have long since gone rogue, but without watercraft or aircraft other than helos, the quarantine is easy to hold in place.”
The photo display popped up some strange metallic-gray skinned humanoid monsters, the creatures progressing to have blades and other odd bits growing out of their bodies. “The reason for the quarantine is the Technocyte virus, it’s apparently quite painful to be infected with and turns the victims into insane monsters.”
“Our problem is that the plane carrying the prototypes crash landed on the island. That problem is two fold, the personnel stranded in the crash are precious and to be recovered. Second while it would be nice to retrieve what prototype technology we can, if not we need it destroyed, both for security reasons and in case the infected can assimilate it.”
Switching the view to a map of the island, a green dot was in a relative calm area between red zones. “Luckily the plane landed in a former farmland area that is relatively safe, but it is surrounded by very dangerous areas. The Russian military is allowing us access and lending some support, but we have to keep the operation reasonably covert so it doesn’t look like a foreign attack on Russian soil.”
“The operation will begin by air-dropping Operative Füma into the target zone to secure the crash site. The APCs are still functional, so the personnel to be rescued should be relatively easy to keep safe. After securing the site, Füma will then take out choice targets to weaken the island air defenses, allowing for the insertion of a larger fire team of more traditional operatives. They will then cooperate on security and target removal, and if things go well, two Raven PMC platoons are assembling to secure a beachhead and take everyone out.”
Pausing, the military rep glanced over at the cloaked figure. “Any questions Füma?”
Standing back from the group, the cloaked figure made a show of stroking an invisible beard on his face mask. “Mhmm, so this is sorta like a zombie outbreak island, so everything there is basically going to be super-hostile, and killing them is doing them a favor to let them go in peace?”
The military rep nodded his head. “Yes, the Lasrian troopers are suspected to be infected by a new stage of the virus. Whatever the case, they’ve been out of contact with their government yet are still manning their defenses. They’re definitely assumed to be hostile, but standard rules of engagement apply.”
Humming thoughtfully while still miming stroking his beard, the masked figure of Füma paused. “So this second team, would they die horror movie style, or action movie style?”
That brought a smirk to the military rep’s face. “Action movie style, they’re quite competent.”
Hearing the odd cloaked figure making morbid jokes, the Vector rep at least wanted to take a jab at the idiot. “And what about you? How would Operative Füma die, comedy farce style?”
The Vector representative found himself uncomfortably being held as the cloaked figure put an arm around his shoulders and pulled him close while making soothing sounds. “It’s okay man, just be careful or the old man will go back to telling stories. What I heard though was, ‘At the end of the world, it’ll just be Operative Füma and giant radioactive cockroaches left, and the roaches won’t want any trouble.’ Something like that, some crazy woman in a cheerleader outfit with a giant key was screaming something about that until her friends dragged her off.”
Standing up, Füma pulled back to stand apart from the men at the conference table. “Well, if that’s all, I need to finish getting ready. Just make sure to send me the tactical data and maps.”
Getting a nod from several of the reps, Füma suddenly bounced on his feet as he audibly brightened up. “Hey, Mr. Grumpy, I’ll show you a trick.”
That said, the cloaked figure went over to the closed door that was the only exit to the windowless interior room. With a tug he pulled the door free of the frame, the black suited guards visible outside. Then he stepped over to the side and spun around, putting himself between the door and wall.
Annoyed, the Vector rep got up to address the guards outside the door. “Why did you let in that cloaked guy?”
Turning around, the guards were visibly shocked to find the door completely gone. Looking into the room however, they and the Vector rep only found a door leaning against the wall. “Who sir?”
Chuckling heartily, the military rep just waved the guards away. “Just like old times.”
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(Posted Mon, 18 Apr 2011 08:17)
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