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post #1 of 38 (permalink) Old 02-16-09, 04:15 AM Thread Starter
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Icon The Unsung War

1: Memories
2: MkVI
3: Herodia IV
4: Strictly Business
5: Seven-Six-Two
6: Settling In
7: Uniforms?
8: The Plan
9: Breaking Cover
10: The Storm
11: Survival
12: Double E
13: Debrief
14: Windup Toys
15: Heroes


Anya Vostok (Anya-243): ISO Operative, Assassin
Maxim Petrov (Max-167): ISO Operative, Weapons Specialist
Danal Harken: Inquisitor Primus, Inquisitorial Security Office
Samuel Kurge: ISO Acolyte
Derrick Admas: ISO tech-priest, medicae
Cooper: ISO Stormtrooper

Robert Connor: Colonel, 101st Cadian
Aaron Smith: Sergeant, 101st Cadian

High Lord Frederic Pruitte
Lord Damien Fletcher

High Inquisitor Dominic Santiago: Master, Inquisitorial Court
Underinquisitor Johnothan Stuart: Member, Inquisitorial Court
Inquisitor Arcia Parks: Representative to the ISO, Inquisitorial Court
Mimas, Sol System, Twenty two years previously

I can't see.

The blackness recedes from my vision. Zernov hauls me upright.

"Girl! Get up!" he yells. I stand and stumble out of the crater the mole-mine left, my armor smoldering. The suit is unpainted, steel grey Mark III SPAR armor. I was sixteen when they found me in Port Rostock, told me that I could be great. And I was. Second best in the program, and Anton got killed the year I graduated.

My weapon, a cut-down LAR-15, is in my grip. I raise the weapon and squeeze off a burst, catching the leading drone in the chest.

Zernov fires the grenade launcher attached to his LAR. The explosion blows two more to dust.

A quick burst and the last attacker falls in a heap.

The lights in the facility go up, a massive cavern in Mimas' central reaches.

"Nice work 243." said the speakers. I nod slowly, reloading. A man in a grey coverall walks from a concealed doorway.

"Excellent work. I saw that last one. Your aim is improving." he says.

"Yes sir. Thank you sir." I reply. I throw the LAR's strap over my shoulder, following him and Zernov out of the cavern.

We walk down a metal-shod hallway, passing armed guards and filing into a room with a screen set against the wall. Zernov and the man stand to either side of the doorway, while I stand in the center of the room. The screen shows a rotating I icon, and this vanishes as the ISO chief's head appears on screen.

"Good to see you, girl." he says happily.

"How do you know I'm me?" I ask. "I could be any ISO Op in armor."

The director smiles. "You hold youself differently. It's the pistols, I think. And you're the reason I was called to a meeting."

I look at my waist, where twin wooden-handled plasma pistols are hung low on a belt. He's right. I stand straighter out of habit.

"Now then 243, I was informed today that you have passed your final examination."

"It's true sir." the man in coveralls chimes in.

"Well then, I hereby promote you to Operative 243, Anya. Congratulations. Now then, I have to get back to the Inquisitorial Court. Good luck, 243."

I snap off a crisp salute.

"Thank you, sir."

The screen goes blank.

The man in coveralls turns to me, and I notice Zernov has left the room.

"Now you've got some choices to make. Firstly, armory or paint shop first?"

"Armory." I say immediately.

"Like a true ISO Op." says the man. He leads me down a corridor I've never been down, lit by red darklights.

A man chewing on the end of an unlit cigar opens the meter-thick door to the ISO armory. I walk inside and stare at the treasure trove. LARs and HARs are stacked in heaps. Grenades by the dozen populate boxes. Armor snap-ons and webbing hangs on clips attached to the walls. In the far corner a rocket launcher is propped against a plasma cannon.

I reluctantly give the armorer my battered training LAR-15, and he hands me a shiny HAR-45. I pull a grenade launcher from the box and snap it to the bottom, next to a flashlight. My next stop is the grenades. I take a half-dozen frag and krak grenades and a fat melta bomb from the stacks.

The armorer hands me a set of holotags. ANYA-243 is marked on one, the other has the insignia of the Inquisitorial Surveillance Office, the assassinorium's inquisition branch. I attach them to my belt and he shakes my hand, and we leave the armory, heading down the hall to a color-splattered doorway.

A man in spatterpainted white overalls greets me, pointing to a circular room with every color imaginable splattered on the inside. I step into the room, and he cocks his head in question, holding up a palatte of colors. I point, and the sprayers turn on, a fat panel covering my visor so it doesn't get painted on. A layer of pure white paint is layered on, then 243 is stenciled to my shoulderpad. The room opens like a flower's petals, and the plate retracts to the ceiling, blowers descending to dry it in seconds.

The man pulls a pair of thick goggles off and shakes my hand too. "Congrats." he says. I nod.

The grey-coveralled man beckons, and I step into the elevator to go up to the surface of Mimas, then to the ISO barracks on Io.

En route to Heronia IV, Present Day

"Anya? Ani? You in there?"

I open my eyes.

Max is standing over me, already in full armor. I pull the blankets over my chest hurridly.

"How long have you been-" I start, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes.

"A minute or two. Get suited up. We just jumped in-system. We'll be there in two hours." he says calmly.

I sit up, holding the blankets to my chest, and turn to look at the battered suit of Mark III armor on the wall. The white paint has turned to a light grey, and pockmarks and scratches cover the suit. I look at Max pointedly, and he shrugs and leaves, closing the door behind him. I pull the black undersuit for the armor from beneath the bed, pulling it on, followed by the plates of my armor. It's been so long since I got the suit it's more like a second skin then a suit of armor.

I attach my HAR-45 to the backplate of the suit and step into the atrium of the decrepit cargo hauler Max commandeered for the trip. We would leave it in orbit once we got to Heronia. Max is in the hold, picking at a patch of rust on the shuttle's flank.

"Ready to go, Ani?" he asks. I nod slowly. Always ready.

You'll forgive me, but you must be mistaken. I've met your makers, and they don't even know your name...

(Updated Mar. 19)

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post #2 of 38 (permalink) Old 02-16-09, 07:01 AM Thread Starter
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Well, once again, I got shafted on flight timing, so here you go!

High Orbit, Heronia IV, Day 1, 1230 hours

I stood in the cargo hold as Inquisitor Harken strode down the ramp of his dropship. He nodded to me, and I threw a salute up as his retinue marched past. Max dropped down from the shuttle's bay doors and shook the Inquisitor's hand.

"Good to see you here, sir." said Max. Harken nodded and gave us a warm smile.

"You too, Max. Anya, you're looking good, although that's the armor."

"Yes sir." I replied.

He looked around the hold, taking in the loose wiring and jury-rigged nature of the ship.

"Nice place. What'd you pay?"

"Freebie, sir."

Harken chuckled and pointed at the dropship. His retinue climbed into the sturdy shuttle. I gathered up the rest of Max's and my gear and stowed it in two big footlockers, stacking them in the bay too.

"My team for this one is you, Max, Derrick, Cooper, and Sam. You guys know each other, right?"

"Uh...your scribe, tech, and guard, right?" asked Max. Harken nodded.

"We know them." I said. "Good times back on Desolatia. Derrick still a tarot player?"

"Oh, he remembers you, sweetheart. He still owes you from that campaign." said Harken.

"Now, the real reason I'm not dropping from the Razor's Edge." said Harken. He pointed to a straining crewman from his shuttle, who dropped a large crate before turning back into the shuttle.

"You drop that again, I'll have you hunting for landmines! With a hammer!" yelled Harken. The man slouched in apology and walked into the ship.

I pried the lid off the nearest box, finding a large, white plate inside.

"Is- Is this what I think it is?" I asked, slightly in awe. I picked up a white-clad helmet, it's wide visor reflecting my own.

"Oh yes. Mark VI SPAR armor. Just came up from Mondus Gamma two days ago."

Max leaned over the crate, pulling out a plate of armor with the cobalt blue color he favored.

"Wow, sir. It's like Emperor's Day all over again." he said.

We quickly pulled the box apart, swapping out the battered Mark III suits for the new versions. I snapped my old clip-ons to the new armor, finding to my pleasure they still fit on the new components.

"Glad you like it, soldier." said Harken. I nodded. The new HUD flashed into life before my eyes, disorienting me for a moment before the helmet systems compensated. I pulled my webbing and belts on, making sure my twin pistols were safe. The wooden stocks had worn to the shape of my hands over the years, and I had pledged to never get rid of them. I slipped a combat knife into a convenient holster on the Mark V's chestplate.

We stepped into the dropship, Max sliding past the inqusitor's retinue to sit at the controls.

"You got it together?" I asked, taking my usual place by the cockpit door.

"You know it, Ani." he said smoothly. "I can land a dirt-crate like this no problem."

"Good." I said, cocking the HAR. Even if this place was peaceful so far, I never took chances. None of the ISO operatives did. Anton had, at one point. They sent us his head. After that, we decided to stay down and shoot first.

The ship lurched as it's landing skids left the hold, and the cargo hauler flipped away in orbit as our shuttle bounced through the atmosphere of Heronia IV.

You'll forgive me, but you must be mistaken. I've met your makers, and they don't even know your name...

(Updated Mar. 19)

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Very nice start Dirge, good work!
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post #4 of 38 (permalink) Old 02-16-09, 05:25 PM Thread Starter
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Well, I finally got up after a half hour delay, eating dinner as I write. Roast beef, mashed potatoes, corn, and brownies. Good times.

Descending Orbit, Day 1, 1300 hours

"Ah, Ani. I missed that horrid scratching sound of your voice on my eardrums."

I smiled warmly under my helmet. Sam and I always had an... interesting relationship.

"You're still just angry I killed more things on Desolatia than you." I said smoothly. He smiled.

"Nah. I'm just angry I never saw below that suit." he chuckled.

"Max has. Ask him about it sometime. Maybe he can give you some pics or something."

Derrick was across the hold from me, checking our flight path on a dataslate.

"You're looking well. No wounds, scars that I can see." he said. His optics whirred as they focused.

"New armor." I said, tapping the breastplate of the Mark VI. He nodded.

"I see. Semi-Powered Assault, Recon variant. The newest version, too."

"So, you have fifty creds plus nine years interest?" I asked the tech adept offhandedly. He tapped his thin robes, making clunking noises as his augmetics hit each other.

"Sorry. Left my bank statement in my other robes." he said.

Harken got up from speaking with Max in the cockpit, and stood in the center of the hold, a holomap blossoming in his hands.

"Alright team, Heronia IV. Peaceful, sound world. Recently paid 150% of the required Guard and Administratum tithes. All in all, very nice place." he began. Cooper raised his hand.

"Then why are we here sir? And why did you feel the need to bring heavy armor along?"

He gestured at me, then at the cockpit door.

"Well, there's been whispers of a cult intrusion in the higher levels of the planet's rulers. High Lord Pruitte is accused of several counts of Grand Heresy, and his underling, Lord Fletcher, is accused of being an active member of a Chaos cult, here on Herodia."

"What's the nature of the cult, sir?" I asked.

"Good question. Our recent intel points to either Tzeentch or Slaanesh, although given the rulers' disposition, Slaanesh seems more likely."

"Very good sir."

"Now then. We'll be landing at Ross Field Spaceport. Anya, Max, I want you out of those suits for the time being. Here."

He threw me a pile of clothes and a set of dogtags marking me as Anya Cirov, a refugee from the Cadian system.

I changed in the arms locker at the shuttle's rear, and then took the controls from Max as he swapped too. We packed our armor into a nondescript footlocker with the Cadian Guard logo on it, and listened as the radio crackled to life.

"Inbound unidentified you are in Ross Field airspace. Squawk ident and proceed to pad nine, repeat pad nine."

"Ross Field tower this is Shuttle seven of the Fredric's Hope, carrying refugees and mercenaries from the Cadian Gate."

"Copy, seven."

The shuttle bounced slightly as it touched the pad, and our party stepped down the ramp to meet a bored-looking guard with a holstered stubber pistol and a metal detector.

He ran it over Sam, then Cooper, simply waved Derrick past, then Harken, and finally myself and Max. He didn't even bother to scan the footlocker.

We walked through the port, noting the vast amount of refugees and other people, from Herodia and the surrounding systems. Harken finally found the front doors, and we commandeered a groundcar to use.

Derrick stopped the car in front of a seedy looking hotel and bar in downtown Jorian, the planetary capital. We stepped from the car, looking at each other. Harken looked at the sign and smiled.

"Alright. Don't eat anything without a tox strip, don't drink the water, and do not talk to people with less then pants and a shirt on. Oh, and don't accept drinks from women, for you," said Harken, indicating his retinue, then Max. "Or men, for you." he said, indicating me.

We stepped up to the door, noting the CLOSED sign hung from the doorknob. A single guard was standing in the front.

"We're closed." he said.

"And I'm Danal Harken." said Harken. "Can we see tonight's special?"

"We're closed." repeated the guard. He reached for a stubber at his waist.

Max leapt forward, grabbing the man by the head and knocking him against the wall. He slumped to the ground.

"Nice move." said Harken, waving us inside.

A few people sat around a circular bar, a small band playing in the corner. Women in various stages of dress walked around, occasionally speaking to the patrons. A single man, extremely fat with a stained white shirt, stood behind the bar, cleaning a glass.

"Hello Parker." said Harken smoothly. He ran a finger along the bar. "I see your staff hasn't improved much."

"Well, what am I going to do. The girls are where the real money in the place is at." he said.

"Now then. Do you have my money?"

"Uh, no. Not that much. Give me three days-" began Parker, a trickle of sweat forming on his brow.

"Listen. I'm a tourist. If I like what I see here, we may stay a while."

Parker looked at Max and I, easily the largest people in the room, and nodded slowly.

"You're a little well armed for refugees." he commented, looking at the pistols on my belt, and Max's HAR on his back.

"You're a little under armed for a bar owner." I replied.

"Hm. I like you, sweetheart. You need a job? Got some openings..." he asked calmly.

"Look at my eyes, not her chest, fatty." said Harken, pulling the man to face him.

"Fine. We got rooms at the top floor. Landing platform too. Here's the key. We're even, right?"

Harken took the key. "The depends. Can we count on no riffraff making their way in here?"


"And no trouble from your normal... assortment of women?"

Parker sighed. "Fine."

"And as much food and drink as these two want." he gestured at Max and I. "They don't drink, but they like lots of food and sweet drinks. Properly cooked, please."

Parker grumbled under his breath. "And you'll wipe my debts?"

"Of course."

The fat man rubbed his hands together. "Fine. Deal. You got the top floor to yourselves. I'll get Krystal to move the girls down the street, and I'll keep the gangers and hive trash out of here. Happy?"

Harken smiled. "Was it worth ten thousand creds plus interest, Parker?"

The man sighed. "I'm not sure anymore."

Harken chuckled and led up up the elevator, opening the door.

"Alright. Four rooms. Me, then Derrick and Cooper, then Max and Sam, then Anya."

"Sir. Request to bunk with Max." said. Max seconded. Harken narrowed his eyes.

"Any particular reason? I was going by gender."

"We're going by profession, sir." said Max. "Buddy system too sir."

"Very well. Sam, you're bunking alone. Stow your gear."

As the sun set on Jorien, Derrick, Max, Cooper and I played tarot, while Harken planned the mission to come.

You'll forgive me, but you must be mistaken. I've met your makers, and they don't even know your name...

(Updated Mar. 19)

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Nice work Dirge!... Can't wait for the next chapter... Men, Anya is so hot!... Hahaha... What's there relationship?... Between her and Max?...
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post #6 of 38 (permalink) Old 02-17-09, 03:36 AM Thread Starter
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Anya's an assassin, she's kind of hard to fall in love with. Really they're just partners. A lot of the gangers and normal citizens (Parker, Sam) don't see this, however. Hence the "job offering".


Jorien red-light district, Day 2, 430 hours

I walked down the short alleyway to a plain steel door. I rapped at it three times, and a slit in the door slid open.

"What's the word?" asked a man.

I pointed the barrel of my plasma pistol through the slot. The door opened with indecent haste.

"Sorry ma'am. Didn't see you clearly out there." said the man.

"Just keep it short. My partner's coming shortly. What do you have?"

"Whatever you need, miss. Rifles, machine pistols, anti-armor, explosives, grenades, ammo. Anything else is a special order and will take longer. Don't ask for warships, though."

I nod and hold a credit chip out to the man. "Need equip for a set-piece battle, four people."

"Gotcha. Just a moment." he said, running to the rear of the store. "Harken, right?"

"You got it."

He nodded and pulled two crates from the back, each newly unopened, with a guard regimental crest on the side.

"99th came through a while back. They left some stuff behind. Have fun with it." he said simply, holding out a hand for the creds. "Six thousand."


"Five Seventy Five."

"Five Thirty. Take it or leave it."

The man sighed. "Fine."

I hauled the crates to the street, noting with some discomfort that the streetlights weren't working this far out in the city. The arms merchant Harken had specified lived in a rather seedy section of the city known as "Deadman's Court" because of the number of murders and robberies in the area. I sat on the crate, spinning one of my pistols on the crate's top.

"So I was saying to Harry, I told him, I said, you can't ditch your shit at my pad and expect me to do shit with it." said a voice. A group of men, the oldest about twenty-five, walked around the corner. I stiffened instantly. My armor, which I had insisted on wearing for the sojourn into the red light district, hummed to battle readiness as it read my adrenaline spike.

"Hey asshole. What the hell you think you doin' on Screamer turf? You better be ready to give some of that shit up, man." said the leading ganger, a tattoo that read "SCREW ARBITES" on his forehead.

I kept the pistol out of sight. "Nice try, but no. Try please next time."

The man's eyes widened. I noticed his pupils were the size of pinpricks. He was obviously high on something, most likely Fury judging by the amount of blood on his knuckles.

"It's a chick." he said slowly.

"You got kids?" asked the second man, a greasy ponytail pulled back over his scalp.

"Nope. Can't." I replied. "My employers discourage maternity leave, they "fixed" me."

"Oh, good. No child support if we're wrong then." said the third man.

They began to approach me slowly, hands on knives and a length of chain. I pulled the plasma pistol from the crate and put a shot through the oldest man's forehead, obliterating the tattoo and splattering bones and gore over Ponytail and his friend. Ponytail grabbed my arm before I could get another shot off, and threw me to the ground. He was obviously also on Fury, his strength about equal to my own, even in my armor. The third man scrabbled at my armor, trying to find a quick release or seam to crack it open.

I kicked him, breaking in his ribs and sending him flying. Ponytail turned to follow his trajectory. I butted my helmet against him, crushing his face in. The man toppled over, blood gushing from his shattered nose, and I stomped down hard on his knee, breaking it. I jumped onto the third man's back as he turned to flee, and crushed his organs into his already broken ribs.

"Sorry. I'm not in the mood this morning." I said smoothly, ignoring his howls of pain. I put a shot through his neck, killing him, and walked back to Ponytail, who was in the alleyway's corner, weeping.

The pistol flared again, and Ponytail's head exploded in a white-hot fireball.

Max turned the corner in a dark green groundvan, screeching to a halt in front of the crates. He jumped out, running to me.

"I heard the gunshots. Did they hurt you?" he asked.

"Nah. Just a few guys in desperate need of children, apparently." I said.

"Good. Help me with the crates."

"Well, there is one thing."

"What?" he asked again, instantly concerned.

"They were bleeding all over my armor. I've got to clean it tonight."

Max chuckled as he heaved the first crate into the van. I tossed the second after it, and climbed into the car.

"Sam is checking out the palace today. He'll have a line in on it by tomorrow." said Max. I nodded.

"Good. Did Derrick get the hard lines into the Jorien networks yet? We'll need them for long-range vox."

"Yeah. He was setting up the aerial when I left. Harken's not doing anything right now. Might want to tell him about that group. Then see a preacher."


"Remember that psych class we had to take? Where's the emotional devastation?"

"They didn't get anywhere. And they're dead. Vengeance trumps emotional devastation."

Max laughed. He turned the van onto the street Parker's bar was located on.

"Alrighty then. We're operational in three hours, tops. Cooper's getting some extra help from a local Guard regiment in case there is a sizable cult, and I'll need to get down to the provosts' office to scan their records on Chaos activity in the subsector. Want to come?"

"I could." I replied. "Gotta eat first. I haven't had breakfast."

Max loaded the crates onto the elevator, and I sat at the bar eating some kind of fired grox for a time, listening to Parker's stories of making it rich and rolling in creds. I took the last drink upstairs with me, walking through the door in my bloodstained armor.

"Max told me what happened. Ganger trash." said Derrick. He put a hand on my shoulder.

"You OK?" he asked.

"I'm fine." I said. "Killed them all."

He smiled, or at least the tech-adept equivalent of a smile. "Good for you. Now, help me with the aerial. I need to get a dish up but it's pretty heavy."

I nodded and hoisted the fat aerial dish out the window and on to a mounting lug. Derrick leaned over me and welded the base to the dish.

"Thanks." he said. I nodded again, and walked into my room, finding Max asleep on his bunk, an ops manual over his eyes. I smiled and sat on my own bunk, taking a cleaning rag from the footlocker and beginning to wipe away the gangers' blood.

You'll forgive me, but you must be mistaken. I've met your makers, and they don't even know your name...

(Updated Mar. 19)

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Excellent as always, Dirge! I like how you're using First Person instead of third person. Awesome!
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post #8 of 38 (permalink) Old 02-17-09, 11:27 PM Thread Starter
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Thanks. I wanted to break away from the norm of my stories. Doing a first-person after so long is kind of refreshing.

Jorien Market Quarter, Day 2, 1150 hours

"So we've got our op plan?"

Sam nodded. "Yep."

Harken turned. "And you've got the aerials set up?"

Derrick nodded. Cooper opened the door, walking in with two men in drab fatigues.

"Got a line in on the provost marshal. He's setting up a watch on the surround in Jorien. They're also cracking down on Deadman's Court later this month, apparently. The nobles are getting nervous about the gangs in the area."

He turned to the two men. "May I present Colonel Carter and Sergeant Smith of the 101st Cadian. They mustered out after V-Day. They'd like to help out with our little endeavor."

"No offense, but did you get them checked?"

"Yessir. Both honorably discharged, courage under fire, and tactical soundness. Carter is also a recipient of the Macharius Cross."

Harken nodded. "Very good. Glad to have you aboard."

The two guardsmen nodded and took seats around the map table.

"Now then, we've plotted a holomap of the palace using penetrating modar." said Harken. A map of the city appeared on the table, above a vast network of service ducts and tunnels. A large area was circled under the Imperial Palace.

"Our intel points us at this location for the cult activity. They've had some disappearances in the lower reaches for months now."

Cooper raised a hand. "Sir, that could just be mutants."

"Just so. That's why they sent us."

"Very good sir."

"Good. We'll need someone to infiltrate the palace, get us a way in. That's where your guard friends come in?"

Cooper nodded. "Yep. They're both working as private security at the palace grounds. They can let us in the main gates."

"Good. We'll also need someone to infiltrate the cult itself. The nobility, rather. We need a lead on this before we go in."

Sam snorted. "Unless you've got a Callidus hiding in the closet, you're not getting anywhere."

"No, but a certain Lady Lisa Urelia is incoming from St. Maxwell's Trail. She'll be our lead."

Derrick shook his head. "I don't think so. I've got no inbound from the Trail."

Harken nodded. "I didn't think you would. Lisa is completely fictional, to us. To everyone else she has a birth certificate, fingerprints, starship records, passports, the whole deal. Minor nobility, twenty-four years old. And that is where you come in." he said, pointing at me.

"I don't think so." I said calmly. "Unless Lisa Urelia is a fan of SPAR armor and rifles, I'm not going cavorting around this city again. I've been attacked once and offered "jobs" twice. What is it with ninety percent of this city trying to get inside my armor?"

"Incorrect." said Derrick. "Ninety-Four percent of Jorien is male heterosexual or female deviant, allowing for one percent error."

"What? Ninety percent of the city is guys?" asked Cooper.

"Yes. Heronia IV follows a regimented procreation system. Males are allowed in several cities, Females in another. Mates are reassigned to cities where they will remain unbothered."

"Sounds like a nice system. What happens when you get a person in the other gender's city?"

"Usually assault followed by murder." said Derrick happily. "Which is precisely what we've seen with Anya, minus the murder. I'd recommend she stay in her armor for the duration of the trip, and try to not speak loudly."

"I'm surprised you two never got together." said Sam. "Sleeping within ten feet of each other for more then ten years, y'know."

"Nothing I haven't seen in the showers." said Max. "Whatever."

The room stopped dead. Smith narrowed his eyes. "You guys shower together?"

I spoke up. "Saves water. Keeps it from being cold for the last group. The ISO barracks only has two shower blocks. One for officers, and one for the Operatives."

Harken smacked his lips. "Well, anyways, are you willing to do it?"

"No." I said. "I'm an assassin. Not a noble. I don't even know how to make tea."

"Fine. Lord Linus Urelia then. Sam, you're up."

Sam nodded. "Cool. You two can be my guards."

Max and I shared a nod.

"Very well. Now then, we're going with 7.62mm rounds for this mission, we can share out. Coops, you're on the 13mm."

Cooper nodded. He turned to the side and picked a fat sniper rifle from it's case.

"Nothin' like the classics." he said fondly.

"Max, Anya, pick your poison, but stay at 7.62. I think that fits your HARs, right?"

"Yessir. Modular ammo loads. Everything from 5mm to 14mm." I said, pulling the HAR out so he could see the ammo cartridge.

"Good. I've got a line with the provosts. They'll take out secondaries all around the city when we go in. We're here to decapitate the cult on Herodia. Now, are we clear?"

The map table died. I nodded slowly to Max, who gave me a thumbs-up.

"We're clear." I said. The others nod.

"Good." said Harken. "Now who's hungry?"


I sat next to Max at the table, eating a plate of some steaks Parker had cooked up. I didn't identify the taste of it. Probably didn't want to either.

Max returned from the bar with a plate.

"That's all vegetables." said Carter accusingly. He pointed to his own plate, nearly all meat. I jabbed my fork into a piece of broccoli.

"Yep. Our field intelligence score is twice yours."

Carter laughed. Max pointed at his plate. "And exactly what do you think that is?"

I smiled. "A tube of some sort."

"Precisely, Ani. Eat up, dead man." finished Max with a flourish. Carter set his fork down, defeated.

"So, who's up for some cards?"

You'll forgive me, but you must be mistaken. I've met your makers, and they don't even know your name...

(Updated Mar. 19)

Hat in the Ring
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post #9 of 38 (permalink) Old 02-18-09, 01:00 AM
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They shower together?.... WTF?... Anyway.. Nice job with the first person point of view...
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post #10 of 38 (permalink) Old 02-18-09, 01:21 AM Thread Starter
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The ISO barracks on Mimas is somewhat limited. Only two shower blocks, and the Commandant of the barracks get his own private on. The Ops all shower together, to save water. They might be Inquisition, but money rules everything.

You'll forgive me, but you must be mistaken. I've met your makers, and they don't even know your name...

(Updated Mar. 19)

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