The target was close. The assassination had been planed perfectly, drilled into NicoleÃ¢Â€Â™s mind so she could take the target down blindfolded. The plan was infallible, her target would die, and she would escape. Unfortunately, everything had fallen apart when Mr. Johnson decided to tack on another body guard, and move his office suddenly. Which meant a nice, long distance kill from across the street was out the window, much like Mr. Johnson would be if it all worked out. Which is why she found herself under a desk with a small needle, ready to inject a fast acting neurotoxin would paralyze the esteemed Mr. Johnson before she kicked him out the window and he fell thirty five stories into the street probably to be ran over by a semi or something before the cops got there.
She heard the door to the office open. She exhaled, waiting. Her legs tensed ready to kick her target out of the window once he was immobilized, and couldnÃ¢Â€Â™t scream. She checked the mission clock in her HUD. It seemed slow, but she knew it was right. She calmed herself as the footsteps neared, and dug for the coldness. The place her mind went when she was about to kill. She felt everything seem to go into perfect clarity. The target sat down, and probably preparing to log onto his computer so he could do something that he considered important, but in reality probably served no truly important purpose. She struck, and the illusion of perfect calm was shattered. The needle went in and auto injected. There was a gasp, a slight spasm, and then Mr. Johnsons legs seemed to lose all contact to the brain. She kicked, and launched him out the window, the glass broke and down he fell, silently. Nicole moved quickly, the grey black and red jumpsuit helped with this.
Light armor kept her agile, but protected her from gunshots, Kevlar from cuts, advanced HUD made sure nothing surprised her. And, in the event that she was killed or captured without hope of return, and due to the high level of the threat to the corporation Mr. Johnson posed, she had been wired with explosives. Add that on top of the state of the art equipment, she was prepared for almost any situation. Like running from the security.
She burst through the door, stabbed a bodyguard in the throat and knocked another out. She then began her escape. She sprinted straight ahead putting a few shots into the far window with her pistol there was an almost waist high bar cutting the window into two section, she holstered her pistol and pulled a hook on a line that was stored in her belt. She slid, slipping under the bar and hooking the clip to it in one quick movement, the line auto fed, lowering her ten stories then slowing her to a halt. She busted into another floor. It was late, even the cleaning man had left, but the late Mr. Johnson had been here in Tokyo on business and he still hadnÃ¢Â€Â™t adjusted to the clock. Not that he ever would now of course. But the man had earned it.
She knew there were guards, and she knew that someone heard the pistol shots, and someone already found the bodies and someone had the security locking down. She didnÃ¢Â€Â™t need the voice in her ear to tell her that. But she did need it to tell her where to go what to do next, The voice belonged to Nathan Armstrong, he was her handler, and as a result he was responsible for telling her what she would expect. For example. All the lower floors were heavily guarded, same with the roof. Only way out was somewhere in the middle. A door on her left. It burst open and security guards came through, to many for her to kill right now, she sprinted on, hoping she wasnÃ¢Â€Â™t going to be hit. She pulled a disc from her belt slammed it against a wall as she passed, spinning from the impact but letting her momentum carry her forward as she recovered from the spin. The disc beeped once, and turned white, the color of the walls. The guards began to pass it, after one had passed it beeped once more and exploded, killing all of them.
Ã¢Â€ÂœI need an exit!Ã¢Â€Â she said, her voice was stressed but only carried a hint of urgency. Nathan Armstrong sat in a room, the rest of the assassination team, five in all stood around him, watching NicoleÃ¢Â€Â™s progress through the building. The corporation was simply a front for this, a secret organization, dedicated to one thing. Its survival. The corporation was simply a front, a way to cover the truth. The assassination team only employed six assassins at a time, the rest of the staff worked in intelligence, digging up past on potential targets, deeming importance, finding new targets and the like, training, keeping the assassins fit, making sure they knew how to use equipment, and helping with other similar tasks, or were one of six handlers. Nicole was the youngest and newest of the team, this was her second assignment. Strange, giving such an inexperienced assassin a tier three target, but Nathan wasnÃ¢Â€Â™t about to question the boss. And at the moment, such things were the furthest from his mind. Ã¢Â€ÂœTheres a crane, outside the window right across from you, two floors down, itÃ¢Â€Â™s a long jump but you can make it.Ã¢Â€Â
Nicole thought it was a bad idea, but what else did she have, she wouldnÃ¢Â€Â™t be able to fight her way out. She sped up, sprinting as fast as she could. A guard stepped out of a stairwell behind her. He raised his pistol, aimed, and fired. The bullet hit Nicole in the back of the leg, behind the knee. The shot shattered her knee, and in most other cases it would have punched right out the other side. In this case however it ricocheted off the inside of her armor, bouncing up into her thigh and lodging there. Nicole fell forward, and the guards reinforcements arrived. They began to approach Nicole who was on the ground.
Nathan broke the stunned silence. Ã¢Â€ÂœOh god. SheÃ¢Â€Â™s down.Ã¢Â€Â The gathered assassins watched in horror. They had known Nicole for a year, she was good at what she did, and she was generally a happy person. Now she was about to be captured. One of the other five spoke up. Ã¢Â€ÂœSheÃ¢Â€Â™s gona talkÃ¢Â€Â¦Ã¢Â€Â
Ã¢Â€ÂœNoÃ¢Â€Â Samuel, unit 283 said quickly.
Ã¢Â€ÂœYou have to blow the charges.Ã¢Â€Â Unit 278, James said, with complete calmness in his voice.
Nathan knew what he had to do. James was right. He quickly typed the security codes. He hit enter. There was a loud beep, and the A/V feed for Nicole, unit 296 went black. The words Ã¢Â€ÂœNO SIGNALÃ¢Â€Â floated on the screen. The figure showing suit integrity went from green, to red, then finally black. Nathan turned to regard the five before him. Units 283, 278, 279, 294, and 280 all stood watching, grey jumpsuits with the black eagle emblem on the shoulder. A small bar of color was on each of their chests, making them identifiable in armor. He had gained much more respect for James, unit 278 today. He had proved that he knew what he had to do. He proved that his loyalty lied with the order, and nothing else. James had been NicoleÃ¢Â€Â™s mentor, he had taught her how to fight, how to kill. But he had been more then that. He was her brother.
Ã¢Â€ÂœAlright Eric. Four minutes!Ã¢Â€Â
Eric Falke looked toward the cockpit and grinned. He always had loved things like this. Some people used drugs to get into the zone, he used one of his own. Adrenaline. In high school he had started snowboarding, he loved the thrill of rushing down the slope. After that, he advanced to rock climbing, that was fun for him too, the height was astounding. Rock climbing changed to dirt bikes and racing. He sucked but it was fun and thatÃ¢Â€Â™s what he cared about. After that he did some bungee jumping. Soon after that he did some hang gliding And most recently, at the age of 19, the thrill heights had always given him had turned him to something else. Something that could very well be the death of him, but that was part of the thrill. Hang gliding had given way to skydiving. Yes, Eric Falke was a self proclaimed adrenaline junkie and he was proud of it. And said junkie of hormones was about to leap out of an airplane and hope his chute worked. Of course, he thought, its better then a hot air balloon. After all, thatÃ¢Â€Â™s a wicker basket held to a nylon bag by ropeÃ¢Â€Â¦.propelled by fireÃ¢Â€Â¦ Yeah no way IÃ¢Â€Â™m doing that.
He stepped forward pulling his goggles down. The junkie was about to get his fix. A green light snapped on. He jumped, and suddenly he was falling, high above the earth, plunging to what could very well be his deathÃ¢Â€Â¦.If he was unlucky. And he wasnÃ¢Â€Â™t. It didnÃ¢Â€Â™t last very long, almost before he knew it he pulled his cord and was floating down to earth. He landed hard, not as bad as he had before, but it wasnÃ¢Â€Â™t his best either. As he gathered his chute he noticed something. There was a man, wearing a suit leaning on his car. No vehicle was in view. Almost as if this man had just appeared. He stepped forward. Ã¢Â€ÂœEric Falke?Ã¢Â€Â he said, extending his hand.
Ã¢Â€ÂœYeah thatÃ¢Â€Â™s me. WhatÃ¢Â€Â™s up?Ã¢Â€Â
The man spoke again. Ã¢Â€ÂœI come from a corporation, we have a sudden and dire need of another employee .Ã¢Â€Â
Eric thought it was odd for a company to seek out employees but he could use some more cash, who couldnÃ¢Â€Â™t?
Ã¢Â€ÂœWhat field? And why me?Ã¢Â€Â
The man shifted uncomfortably. Ã¢Â€ÂœYou were the best of candidates for this type of work we could find. The field is the real issue, we can never tell if someone would take the offer. My..corporationÃ¢Â€Â¦ Deals in the removal of persons who could be deemed a threat to civilizationÃ¢Â€Â It was the truth, but only half of it, of course, they removed people who were threats to them, and occasionally society.
Ã¢Â€ÂœWhat you mean likeÃ¢Â€Â¦.the nuthouse or something?Ã¢Â€Â
Ã¢Â€ÂœNo,Ã¢Â€Â The man in the suit said, Ã¢Â€Âœ These people are not insane for the most part. And we remove them more permanently. You see,Ã¢Â€Âœ He said uneasily Ã¢Â€Âœwe areÃ¢Â€Â¦assassins.Ã¢Â€Â
Eric laughed. Ã¢Â€ÂœYour kidding, right? Assassins? Like in the movie? Next your going to tell me I can curve bullets or IÃ¢Â€Â™m Ã¢Â€Â˜The OneÃ¢Â€Â™ or something arenÃ¢Â€Â™t you?Ã¢Â€Â
Ã¢Â€ÂœNo. I am serious. Come with me, find out.Ã¢Â€Â
Eric looked around uneasily, Ã¢Â€ÂœWell. I guess it couldnÃ¢Â€Â™t hurt.Ã¢Â€Â
Ã¢Â€ÂœWonderful, my vehicle is over there, behind the treesÃ¢Â€Â
A few hours later Eric was signed up, he was on a private jet heading to somewhere he didnÃ¢Â€Â™t know, probably never heard of. When he got there he looked around. It was morning, but he had been flying for a while, probably eight hours, that meant Europe. The place was cold, mountainous, had some pine trees. He entered a door into a room which was more of a box, and the man in the suit, whose name was Stephen, entered a code inside.
The wall opened, and he was faced with two guards, heavily armed and armored, they nodded to the man in the suit, and they opened the door for him. They stepped into a large elevator, with benches. Ã¢Â€ÂœSit down, itÃ¢Â€Â™s a long way down.Ã¢Â€Â The floor of the elevator had a transparent part, and Eric found Stephen was very right. The ride took half an hour. At the bottom, more guards, and Stephen stepped through while Eric had to go through security. They scanned his hand, retina, and he passed trough an explosive trace sensor. He then found himself in a circular room. Ã¢Â€ÂœWelcome Eric Falke.Ã¢Â€Â A female voice said Ã¢Â€ÂœPlease remove all clothing and prepare for biological weapons scan.Ã¢Â€Â He hesitated for a moment when StephenÃ¢Â€Â™s voice came through the ceiling. Ã¢Â€ÂœJust do it Eric, itÃ¢Â€Â™s a one time thingÃ¢Â€Â He hesitated a moment more before doing it, he placed his clothes in the designated bin, and they were taken by a conveyor belt Ã¢Â€ÂœPlease close your eyes.Ã¢Â€Â The female voice said again. Eric did so. There was a quick burst of heat and light. He opened his eyes and there was a jumpsuit in a box in front of him. Ã¢Â€ÂœPut the jumpsuit on pleaseÃ¢Â€Â Eric did what she said again. The jumpsuit was grey, with a red bar on the chest. Once dressed a door opened on the far side of the room. He walked through.
That had been five years ago. Three long years of training, honing his body into a perfectly tuned machine, learning to kill with anything from an empty coca-cola can to one of the most advanced weapons on the planet. Learning to run and leap, learning to dodge and attack. Learning the arts of silence, the arts of death. Death became his name, and those who opposed him and his masters soon found themselves among those who had come before them. He got to know his team, 283, 278, 279, 294, and 280, Samuel, James, Samantha, Uwe, and Patricia, black green, blue, grey, and gold. Separately they were dangerous, together they were death itself. They became his family, and the boy who had been Eric Falke slowly changed into what he was now. An assassin, part of the family
He remembered all of this as he looked over the city from the bay of the UH-60 Stealth variant. Of course, it was basically just a Black Hawk, like the army had, but the army would never get their hands on the stealth technology it was carrying. It was just a prototype, only six in existence , and it was prone to bugs, and it was huge, making this chopper only have room for the pilots and Eric himself, but it got you from A to B unnoticed, and that was what was important.
Norton Peak. According to his briefing, the place was overun with mutants. Of course, it couldnÃ¢Â€Â™t have been as bad as that cess pool Mission City, the place was overrun with them. He remembered an assignment he was sent on there recently, Going after the head of a genetic research company. He almost got burned to a crisp by some big bipedal pyrokinetic lizard thing. He had made sure that was taken care of after he completed the assignment.
It wasnÃ¢Â€Â™t that he had an issue with mutants, not at all, he himself was one, it was just irritating when you put a few shots into someone and they just bounced off, or you went at their throat with a knife and it just went right though. He realized that genetic mutations were becoming more and more common around the world, and he had noticed that there were more cases of extreme mutation in America then anywhere else in the world. And America was also the most intolerant. That seemed to be a trend. For the land of the free America seemed to have a lot of intolerance. But what did it matter, the only important thing was that he was stepping into a war zone, but instead of religious fanatics or guerilla fighters trying to defend their homelands from those who they saw as invaders, he was stepping into a city filled with people who could walk through walls, throw fireballs, and get into your head and drive you insane. And these people were fighting just for the hell of it. It didnÃ¢Â€Â™t matter. He had his target, and his target would die.
Alias: None publicly known.
Designation: Unit 297
Powers: Increased agility, slightly increased strength. His movement is like that of a traceurs((think Mirrors Edge for those of you who have seen/played it http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Free_runner http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Parkour))
Picture everything darker, gun and knife would be black. Armor plates would be black, jumpsuit a very dark grey, any red would be very dark, but still identifiably red.
Tall, thin but muscular, keeps his hair shaved, but has a goatee, hair is a light reddish-orange color, sparkly green eyes
Weapons: Plenty of knifes, two HK USP Compact Tacticals, Two Taurus Raging Bulls (model 500) with laser sites And a large assault rifle.
Gadgets: lots of various gadgets, wall mines, wrist comp, grappling things on both wrists.
Optionaly voice distorter http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hfPVUmxlh1k (that sound) and intersuit com unit
(will add to character sheet later)
Last edited by Adeptus_Astartes (Monday, January 5, 2009 2:13 pm)
[i]The man in black fled across the desert, and the gunslinger followed[/i]
[url=http://lfgcomic.com/page/1]Interrogations are hard...[/url]