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Post by Orin on Nov 4, 2011 1:49:58 GMT
The Seeker 2-1-1
The Sunfighter neared the atmosphere of Apothos with Frank weaving the relatively nimble craft through a small hole in the APM's atmospheric radar. Orin turned to Frank, "Thank you for this. I will repay you someday, but you have to trust me on this one, okay?" "Look," Frank said slightly distracted by the delicacy of the flight maneuvers he was currently performing, "The way I see it, you're just getting yourself killed. But, I'll give you credit for trying. Still, are you sure about this landing....I mean, I don't want to die so soon, and it seems to me that we'll just be shot out of the sky..." It seemed an odd choice, one that wouldn't make sense without careful, ponderous consideration; however, Orin knew that this plan would work, because it had never been attempted.
The idea was to land for Frank to drop off Orin in the Oceanic District of Apothos, a massive port on the only ocean on the planet; it was constantly swarming with economic activity, and this was key. The Sunfighter would go relatively unnoticed in the swarm of craft and sea-going vessels, at least, that was what was hoped for. Frank breathed a sigh of relief as the Sunfighter dropped into the high atmosphere of Apothos, undetected. As the ship flew into the lower atmosphere and finally neared a group of economy craft, a group of small aircraft for shipping goods, Orin pointed, "Right there, drop in behind them. Then work your way into the middle of the group so that when the check comes we will have less chance of being noticed." Frank had already managed to get the Sunfighter into the middle of the group of thirty or forty craft, "Way ahead of ya'...wait, what do you mean by 'check'?"
Just then, Frank noticed far to his left, as he looked through the group of craft, and APM fighter was flying in formation with the group, and he became nervous, almost taking evasive maneuvers by instinct. However, he controlled himself and before long, as the group of craft reached the docking bays, the fighters veered off to check another group of shipments. Frank let out a deep and long-held breath, "I think you should have told me about that sooner." "If I had told you, you wouldn't have agreed to even take me here." Orin retorted. "You're right about that..." Frank mumbled, "Now what?" Orin said, "There should be shipment bays ahead of us; however, those a laced with security patrols and checkpoints. We would look too conspicuous if we docked this huge ship in the passenger bays and let out simply one person, me. So, below the bays, there are some enormous drainage pipes, about a football field in diameter, which run further in to the Oceanic District. Let's fly into one of those. There's no surveillance there because no one thinks any pilots to be crazy enough to fly in."
Frank was stunned, "...AND YOU THINK I'M CRAZY ENOUGH FOR IT?! I love my profession, but I love this ship more! If even one scratch got on it..." Orin put a hand on Frank's shoulder, "Look, I know you love your profession and your ship...but I also know that you would love to tell everyone that you were actually able to do this. And for the record, I do think you're crazy enough." Frank smiled, "Fine, but if anyone asks, it was my idea!" Frank grimaced as he neared the opening to a drainage pipe. Despite the large opening, he still felt like this was going to be difficult. Frank did however pull through, and within moments the Sunfighter was landing inside the giant pipe. Orin stood up from his seat and stretched; then he started walking to the exit hatch out of the Sunfighter, "I can't thank you enough, Frank. You really have done me huge favor. Like I said, you will be repaid for this." Frank slumped in his pilot's seat, "...and to think I have to fly back...Well, Orin, goodbye and good luck; you'll need it just to stay alive, let alone succeed." "Whatever, I figure it out as I go. Good bye." Orin replied as he closed the hatch to the Sunfighter and stepped into the pipe, which was thankfully dry as it had been decommissioned. Frank sat upright in his chair, and then smacked himself in the head; he had for gotten on thing: Now I have to get this thing turned AROUND!
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Post by Orin on Dec 9, 2011 3:45:28 GMT
The Seeker 2-1-2
Orin surfaced from the massive pipe somewhere just north of the dock yards in the Oceanic District. This area was in stark contrast to the damp and squalid streets of the Slums on Apothos, yet Orin couldn't shake the feeling that there was still just as much reason to be cautious here as any other place. Despite the fact that he had completed his mission and he no longer had anything that the Hunter's or the APM would want, he knew that he would still be hunted for his life. Better stay alert around this joint... Orin muttered as he flipped up the collar on his trench coat to hide most of his face. He knew he looked ridiculous, but it would allow him remain hopefully undetected if he came across any APM guards, which were bound to be on every street corner due to the commotion caused by the rest of the group on the Apothos just a short while ago.
Orin continued walking down the crowded sidewalk, trying not to bump into people who scurried from work to home to shops or vice versa. Reminds me of New York... Orin stayed close to the building walls so he had more space...and so he wouldn't get pushed in front of an oncoming car. The more he walked, the more he realized that maybe the Oceanic District wasn't the best place to be. The Slums would have had less guards and would have been less crowded. In addition, Orin had no place to go and no way to get there. He admitted to himself that he had acted rather rashly back on Earth-2 and that he would have been better off if he had taken his time preparing to come here; at least he hadn't forgotten to bring all of his guns and ammo which were safely stored in his backpack.
He knew he needed a starting point, somewhere that he could get a tip-off as to Brandon's location. Where would the APM take someone like him if they had captured him? Well, it made sense that they would take a prisoner like Brandon to the Apothos' city center, but what if they really wanted to throw-off any attempted rescues? Well, they certainly wouldn't take him to the most obvious place, though the most well-guarded. They would probably take him to a well-guarded yet expertly hidden prison, one that couldn't be found without knowing exactly where it was and how to get to it. Of course, these questions and answers didn't help Orin at all; the issue he faced only grew more complex with the more thought he put into it.
Then, a breakthrough occurred to Orin. He was, in fact, in the greatest shipping complex on Apothos, arguably the Arcian system. So, with that being said, he would think that there would be some kind of records department that kept track of all shipments, including those containing prisoners. Orin would have to find this department, but then he would have to figure out a way in without being noticed. After that, Orin still doubted that any prisoner shipment with Brandon on it would be available; those would probably be blacked out. Yet, Orin now had exactly what he needed, a place to start, and if anything he would be able to at the very least get the locations of each of the prisons on Apothos and start looking, if only in a rather disorganized manner. But first, he had to hope that records department existed and find it at all costs.
Orin continued down the street passing APM guards with impunity, for they didn't seem to recognize him at all. He was by no means complaining of this; he knew he could use any slip-ups by the APM to his advantage. One thing he did notice was that these police officers had a much stronger air and presence about them; they stood as if they had been trained and were ex-military. It seemed like they were more experienced than the even soldiers that the group had fought in the Slums. This would make sense, thought Orin, considering that the Slums were less important than the rest of Apothos, and if this were true and these officers were well-trained, Orin would have to be wary of any soldiers which would no doubt be even more well-trained than the cops.
With that, Orin decided he would have to take a risk; he approached one of the officers. "Excuse me," said Orin with a little hesitation. The officer was checking a parking meter and seemed busy, "Yes, citizen, how can I help you?" "Um, right...I am with the U&A shipping company. Would you by any chance know where the commercial and industrial records archive building is?" Orin inquired trying to seem as relaxed as possible. "Uh, sir," the officer seemed a little uneasy. Orin readied himself for anything. "Sir," the officer continued, "That is the building right there behind you..." Orin had noticed the building behind him, but because the building's lettering was simply 2D text, he had been unable to read the print. "Oh, right..." Orin said caught a little off-guard,"I guess...well...I..." "Is there something wrong sir?" the officer was more alert. "No sir..." Orin said stuttering a little and then after giving a fake yawn said, "It was a long night at the docks...sorry, officer...and thank you." "No problem..." the police officer said, "You have a good day."
Orin turned and headed in the building's front gate. For a records building, it wasn't that well guarded; probably, things were this way because of the amount of firepower in the streets outside. Orin could perceive the outline of a man behind a counter in the building's main lobby, he was clearly a clerk of some kind and seemed to know his way around. The man was talking to another employee in a thick British accent, "Yea, boss has got me on night shift; apparently, someone opened the window in the third floor records room for perishables again, blasted wind up there blew the room and all the records to the floor. Gonna' be a long night, it is."
That was it for Orin; that was his in-route. If anyone would know anything about the prisoner shipments, if they were recorded here, it would be this man, and he would be alone tonight in the building. All Orin had to do now was sneak in, but getting in by any place visible from the street would be real problem as the streets of the busy Oceanic district didn't clear at night; if anything ,they became even more choked with commuters and rushed employees. He would definitely wait till night, that was for sure. Night-time would at least give him the benefit of some darkness, even though the entire district was lit-up almost completely. Hopefully, Orin thought as he left the records building (after he located the room his target would be in), he would be able use the adjacent alley to get into the building via a service entrance, that would only require a little stealth and a strong arm to break a lock.
Orin rounded the corner of the building and noticed that the service entrance of the building was ten stories off the ground. "Great..." Orin muttered sarcastically, "...and no perceivable way to get up there." The entrance was probably up there to prevent unlicensed personnel without the proper equipment from breaking in, at least that is what made sense to Orin. He stood as long as he could without getting knocked over by the crowds of people on the sidewalk thinking about how he would get up to the entrance. But after a few curses were thrown his way and he was nearly pushed into the road, he decided to give up and get a room where he could prepare for his entrance into the building; Yep, Orin thought about the foul-mouthed pedestrians that had just pushed him, This place is definitely just like New York...
He managed to get a cheap room in a "hole-in-the-wall" sort of motel. Despite the outside of the hotel looking like a dump, the rooms were quite nice with silk curtains and wall-mounted viewing screens. Orin threw his back pack on the bed in unzipped it. Four boxes of buckshot, three fragmentation shells, eight...He began taking mental inventory of all he had. To his surprise, he found a few boxes of less-lethal "bean-bag" rounds in his bag with a note on them from Frank which said: Try not to kill 'em all in Braille. The shotgun shells fired polyester knit bean bags which could easily knock down a large target and at most bruise a victim to the bone, but never have threat of killing unless at extremely close range. In addition, the rounds used far less gunpowder than average shot shells; so, they were more quiet.
Orin decided to honor Frank by loading his shotgun with the "bean-bag" rounds, but he didn't neglect to put a few lethal shells in his trench coat. He had made his coat so that the inside contained four shotgun shell belts, four hooks for grenades, eight pistol clip pouches, and a belt for his rifle ammo. All in all, he could hold four grenades, 200 rounds of ammo, and a pistol and shotgun (in a special shotgun holster) in his coat, more than enough for any engagement he intended to be in. His rifle he stored (broken-down) in his backpack with extra ammo for all weapons. He would only use his rifle for more static operations, and his machete was only a short distance from his hand in a holster the was part of his combat boots. The machete itself was covered by his trench coat leaving an enemy unsuspecting of Orin's extra weapon.
He did one final check of all of his gear and holstered his pistol and shotgun and whispered to himself, "...get this over with." He left his motel room with everything he needed, just in case he couldn't make it back. He walked down the now well-lit streets, as it was night-time and remained alert for anyone following him. The Oceanic district wasn't that much different from the daytime Apothos, except that it was dark (not that it mattered to Orin) and people were mostly scurrying around for leisure rather than work oriented purposes. After about an hour of nervous walking, Orin finally made it to the records building, which was dark except for one window in the third story. Orin noticed something different about the alley that he had observed earlier that day, there was a large object in it.
With Orin's ability to echo-locate with the large amount of street noise, he was able to outline the object as a "cherry-picker." There appeared to be a service technician up at the top of the building trying to get out of the service entrance. Well, this is a stroke of luck, Orin thought as he approached the base of the vehicle. He waited for the slightly overweight technician to lower the lift down to the ground. The man gave a loud and surprised cough as he turned to Orin, "Um...Can I help you?" Orin simply opened his coat showing the man his vast array of weaponry and ammo, "Shhh. Don't tell." Orin whispered. The man's jaw dropped, "Um..Uh...I'll...I think will....just...g-g-go...now..." And with a speed that Orin didn't think possible of a man his size, the service technician ran out of the alley into the streets passing a few policemen that he had no intention of informing.
Orin got into the lift of the cherry picker and used it to reach the service entrance which the lazy technician had accidentally left unlocked. Orin, prying the rusty old hatch open, entered some air conditioning vents to the building's tenth floor. He managed to quietly lower himself down into the hallway of what look like an office floor of the building. He knew what he needed to do now, find the clerk, get access to the prison transfer files room (no doubt well guarded), and then get out of the building as quickly as possible. Orin made it to the fifth floor, when he noticed some 3D lettering. Now this I can read... he perceived the letters to make the word "Prison transfer records," but the door had some kind of finger keypad on it. Orin needed to get that clerk.
After making it to the third floor, he could hear the clerk shuffling papers in the third floor room for "perishable transfer records" and listening to a loud rock song. Orin approached the outside of the room and then opened the door. The music was so loud, that the clerk didn't even notice Orin's entrance. The man was singing so loudly along with the music that Orin could barely stand it; he was horrible. Orin drew his lever-action shotgun and turned off the music, causing the man to sing a few more words by himself. The clerk quickly turned around and through his thick glasses saw Orin standing there with his shotgun. With a loud "Chu-chick," Orin operated the action on his shotgun to intimidate the clerk and said, "I'm lost. Do you know where your prison transfer records room is?"
The clerk's legs were shaking now, even though he was sitting, "U...Uh...Umm..." The terrified man thought for a moment and then said in a frightened manner, "We don't have a prison transfer records room...nope...ha...ha...ain't got one of those..." Orin smiled, "Oh, but I think you do." The man gulped and shook his head, "Nope...don't have one." Orin walked over to the man who promptly retreated to a corner of the room, "Don't kill me! Please!" "I am not going to kill you, maybe I won't even hurt you. Let's go." Orin said grabbing the man by the back of his coat collar. He began dragging the man to an elevator and upon throwing the man inside, pressed the button for the fifth floor. "W..Wh...Where are you taking me?" the clerk stuttered. "To the prison transfer room..." Orin said grabbing the man by the collar again and dragging him out of the elevator and onto the fifth floor. "Like I said, man, we don't have one of those...I don't know what you're talking abou..." the clerk was interrupted when Orin stopped dragging him and let him fall to the ground, nearly causing him to hit his head. "YOU MEAN TO TELL ME THAT YOU HAVE NEVER SEEN THIS ROOM BEFORE?" Orin yelled sarcastically while pointing at the room labeled "Prison Transfer Records." "Umm,....No?" the clerk grinned nervously. "Enough," Orin said sternly all the while knowing of the man's poor ruse, "...scan your thumb on the keypad, open the door. NOW." "What are ya' gonna' do? Shoot Me? Punch Me?" the clerk retorted with some kind of new found confidence. "Look, the way I see it," Orin said, "I dragged you all the way up here, I think I can force your hand onto the keypad." "You'll have to try!" the clerk yelled weakly. "Oh, or I could just shoot you," Orin said with a grin, "Either way, your fingerprint still works..."
The clerk's smile turned to a serious demeanor. "Point taken." he said as he scanned his thumb opening the door. "Can I go now?" the clerk asked anxiously. "No," Orin said, "Not yet. I need you to find files on a certain Brandon Jacobs." The clerk, pointed to one end of the records room's shelving, "That would be over there." "What?" Orin inquired. "No, really, he accounts for that entire end of the room. We have a LOT of files on him." the clerk said. "Find the most recent file on his transfer." demanded Orin. "Umm, no." the clerk said defiantly. Orin clenched his fist, "I am losing patience with you..." "Fine! Fine!" the clerk exclaimed terrified, "Just don't hurt me!" After thumbing through some files and records, he finally found the most recent one and said, "There you are." Orin grabbed the file and ran his hands over the pages. Braille, excellent. Obviously, Apothos had the services for the blind everywhere,which would help Orin incredibly.
He placed the file in his pack and heard the clerk on the other side of the room, "YOU'RE BLIND! WHAT?!" "Yes, you were just held up by a blind man, how does that make you feel?" Orin retorted as he crossed the room and noticed a small wall-mounted box next to the clerk. The clerk suddenly became talkative, "So what's it like being blind? Is it hard? I mean, surely you can't do everything. I once knew a guy who was blind..." He was interrupted by Orin, "You activated a silent alarm didn't you..." The clerk gulped and looked at the ground like a child who just got caught stealing candy, "Yes." Orin could already hear APM soldiers banging around loudly on the bottom floor yelling "Floor Clear!" and "Watch your corners!" Orin put a hand on the clerk's shoulder and sighed while shaking his head, "You do realize that they're probably going to shoot you too right?" The clerk was suddenly panicked, "No! They wouldn't do that, they'd recognize me...right?" "Probably not in the midst of a firefight..." Orin said quietly. Orin could hear soldiers trampling up the stairs to the fifth floor, his floor. He slammed the door closed to the prisoner transfer records room and re-locked it. He would have to figure a way out of this one, and fast...
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Post by Orin on Dec 13, 2011 21:28:47 GMT
The Seeker 2-1-3
With his back to the inside of the door, Orin paused, trying to figure a quick way out of the prison transfers records room. The clerk stood trembling; he was talking to himself frantically, attempting to remember a quick way out as well. Both knew about the only window to the room, but that was three stories off the ground. With a fall that long and police and army barricades already set up around the base of the building and extending several blocks away, that window was just simply not an option. Orin could already hear a group of soldiers outside the room yelling, "This was the source of the alarm! Door's locked! Get charges on it, now! The rest of you, upstairs!" Orin backed away from the door hearing steps above the room he was in and turned to the clerk, "Things are about to get pretty bad. What's your name?" The clerk was stunned a bit, "Uh...um...name's Jason." "Well, Jason," Orin stated, "are you nervous at all, I mean, have you ever been shot at?" "ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!" Jason shouted, "I don't get paid for THIS!" Orin was taken aback by the clerk's shouting, "Well then..." Orin swung his fist up in a left-hook punch that knocked Jason out, cold. "Consider yourself off-duty..."
Orin dragged Jason's unconscious body under one of the desks in the room, trying to get him out of harms' way; things were about to get bad. Just as Orin got done, he heard pounding on the large metal door that was the entrance to the prison transfer records room. An authoritative voice from the other side of the entrance shouted, "Open Up! You are in a restricted, government file room. We need to you to come out with your hands up! You have five seconds to comply." Orin threw over a desk in the room and braced himself behind it. An instant after this, the frame around the door was blown inward by breaching charges, leaving the heavy metal door to fall flat on the floor. Two flash-bangs rolled into the room, exploding noisily. Orin, unaffected from the flash, popped up from behind the thick metal desk that was his barricade and fired his shotgun. The shot sent a thick polyester bean-bag at a police officer's knee. He yelled in pain from the shot, but the round would only be enough to put him on the ground for a bit. Orin flipped the lever on his shotgun and sent yet another bag at a second officer's gun-arm, landing a hit. He fell to the floor writhing in pain, but the other officers began to return fire.
Orin noticed that there were only two policemen outside room now, as he ducked back behind the metal table, hearing small-caliber bullets from the two officers hit the table. In a moment, Orin braced himself against the heavy table, and with much effort, managed to start using the table as a shield as he pushed the table across the room floor toward the entrance where the officers stood firing away. Orin managed to get the table close enough that as soon as he heard one of the officer's start to reload, he threw himself over the table and into a crouch, firing a less-lethal bean-bag at the officer with his gun still raised. The other, he charged, using his shotgun as a bat of sorts, knocking the policeman down.
Orin ran quickly down the hallway as the bruised officers started to get back up. Taking a right, he used the stair rail and slid down a flight of stairs. Landing, he continued down the last flight of stairs onto the first floor and into the main lobby of the building. He dove behind a cement column as heavily armed APM soldiers began opening fire, tearing through the decorative column in moments. As the column began falling apart, Orin rolled to another column, but instead of waiting at this one, he sprinted and jumped over a line of counters, bullets trailing him the whole way. He stayed low, as the APM soldiers in the center of the lobby put bullet after bullet into the thin wooden counters. Thankfully for Orin, the counters were all joined together, like those of a bank. He could, if he kept moving, use them as a way to prevent the soldiers from seeing exactly where he was.
Orin began to worry as he closed on the end of the line of counters; if he didn't think of something fast, the APM soldiers' bullets, piercing the counter walls behind him, would catch up to him and he could stop to think. Running out of room to move, Orin managed to find a "employees and service technicians only" door. Orin only stood for a moment as he threw himself at the door, breaking it off its hinges. He made it into what looked like another stairwell, leading down to the basement of the building. Orin, hoping for a way out, picked himself up off the floor and sprinted down the cheap metal staircase, hearing APM soldiers running to the doorway at the top. Orin rounded a corner at the bottom of the stairs and entered what seemed like a utilities room, the size of the lobby one floor up.
He did what he thought best and ran to the opposite end of the room, shooting the fuse box with his pistol. Despite the basement being dark and full of noisy machinery before, it was now pitch black and dead silent. Orin, unaffected by the darkness around him, holstered his pistol and shotgun. He crouched behind a large metal generator, the size of a small car, and slowly drew his machete. "I am certain that is the one that has that bounty on him! I don't know if they reward normal soldiers for carrying out one of those, but I would like to be the one to find out!" an APM soldier said as he stomped down the metal basement stairs with the about five others. Orin knew that he had to deal with each of the soldiers quickly, before the rest of the assault teams on each of the floors above responded to the gunfire, which had only been going on for about two minutes now. At least, the other teams would have to figure out that Orin was now in the basement, as only the one squad saw him enter.
The APM soldiers flipped on their tactical flashlights and began checking behind the large machinery in the basement. Orin dove silently across a walkway in the basement behind another large generator. One of the squad members yelled, "Guys! Did you just see that?! I could swear I just saw something!" "I don't care what it was," the apparent squad leader said sternly, "Just stay with the group." But the soldier walked up to the generator and peeked around the corner of the machine. Nothing. Then, the other members heard yelling for a second and ran over to their comrade. He was laying face down on the floor, dead, a large stab wound in his back. Each soldier was now on high-alert, turning every which way with their guns ready. Five remained. The troops continued down the pitch dark walkway, with only their flash lights as sources of illumination. Orin waited for the group to pass his new hiding spot and then stomped on the metal walkway, making an echoing noise. The group of soldiers immediately turned to face where the sound had come from, as Orin ran around to the front of the group and dispatched another soldier before the others could react (or even see him for that matter). Four remained. Orin managed to remain undetected, but he also grabbed a surprise for the others from the corpse of one of the soldiers.
The four remaining soldiers were know panicked. "Look," one said, "I don't care about the bounty! I...I...I don't even think that we can get it, Benson's dead and so is Lu, stabbed no less! This is turning into a bad horror movie." "Yea," said another, "Let's just get back upstairs, and wait for back up, it's not like he can go any where..." "GO ANYHWERE?!" the commanding officer shouted in a whisper, "He managed to get past all of us and a hail of lead upstairs, and you think he can't go anywhere?!" Just then the group heard a metallic noise, like a ball-bearing on the floor as a flash-bang rolled to their feet. "What-?" one soldier shouted only to have his voice covered by a loud explosion. The group fell to the floor blinded and disoriented. The staunch commanding officer writhed on the floor, feeling the ringing in his ears eventually subsiding, he stood, fumbling for his gun. He called for his squad mates, but his flash light only revealed their lifeless bodies around him; one remained. He promptly dropped his gun and ran back up to the first floor, thoroughly scared. Orin, relieved that the killing was done, began to search the room for a way out. Stumbling over a metal hatch, he ran his hand over the piece of metal. It said: "Sewer access" Orin was silently excited as he pried the hatch open and dropped into a tunnel. He had to hurry, this sewer was his only way out.
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Post by Orin on Dec 30, 2011 4:45:42 GMT
The Seeker 2-1-4
Emerging from the sewer, Orin dusted himself off. He found himself in an area that was the edge of the Oceanic District, right before entering the Slums. Looking around, he saw no people; this area seemed quite silent but still inhabited, like a suburb of tall but quiet skyscrapers looming over the boundary between the District and the Slums. Replacing the manhole cover he had crawled out of to its original position, Orin found himself thankful that it was a freshwater sewer line and not one that carried waste, at least this way he wouldn't smell funny. Orin found a bench and sat down.
It had been a solid hour and a half of crawling through small crammed tunnels to find some place that was far enough away from the scene he had created for him to relax. On the bench, he pulled the manilla folder from his backpack and unwrapping the small drawstring that kept the thing closed, Orin braced himself. What he read in here would determine if he would be allowed another step forward in his quest...or if his quest would really be a suicide mission, a waste of time, and a message of the sure death of Brandon.
This was an official report, and judging by the steel door that blocked the entrance to the records room and the amount of troops and police officers that responded in record time, it was going to hold a definitive answer; one that would probably not be masked by any sort of counter-measures. Orin thought about the moments leading up to this. He though about how much Brandon had done for him...how much he had done for Arcia. He remembered how he had to promise Brandon that no matter what happened in the trade-off, he would do whatever Brandon asked, even if it meant leaving him behind.
Then the others, how he had left them on a "suicide" mission to Apothos. He remembered Frank, that crazy pilot; no one would have flown Orin here alone like he did. Then it hit him. Orin thought of Brandon falling to the ground with gunshot wounds, many of them. The APM soldiers throwing everything they had at him. If Orin could have shed tears, this would have been the time. Orin felt the folder in his hand and muttered, "...fate, in print...right here." Orin was trapped on Apothos with no way out. He could only push forward with the mission. Find Brandon.
If this folder gave no clues to Brandon's whereabouts, Orin would be at a literal dead end. There would be absolutely nothing he could go on. He hoped beyond all hope that there would be information to a prison in this folder; but he knew that if he found a simple K.I.A. in the documents, all would be lost. Orin would be stuck on Apothos with nothing else to go on. No leads. No contacts. No mission. No Brandon.
This folder contained not only the Brandon's whereabouts, but also, in a sense, Orin's own fate. He braced himself...and opened the folder.
[TAGGING BRANDON/COMMANDER?]
(what Orin finds is all up to you).
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Post by Brandon on Dec 30, 2011 17:48:37 GMT
The first thing that struck Orin was the level of detail of this file. It was not only a record of just Brandon's doings and lawbreakings but also a list of all the battles he had been seen in. Each battle had its own form. Orin flipped through the forms until he found the form entitled "Skirmish - Slum Shipping Yard." On it was the date time of the battle as well as pictures of the aftermath. Then Orin noticed something peculiar: there were no pictures of Brandon. Surely, Orin thought, they would have taken photos of him to confirm the kill. Orin flipped down to the aftermath portion of the battle file. It listed each member of the AU spec ops team.
K. Fletcher - Alive D. Fletcher - Alive Orin - Alive L. Alar - Alive B. Jacobs - Unknown
Orin's heart leapt at hearing this. He began to look for the name of a prison or facility where Brandon was being held. Plans were racing through his head. He would call the others and mount a full assault to get Brandon out. But then he noticed a paragraph under Brandon's status. He read it in his mind:
"Stayed behind in an attempt to allow others to escape. Took an estimated 6 shots, two of which were potentially fatal. Was also hit with stun guns in the fire fight which finally subdued him. However, his body was not recovered due to the immediate skirmish afterward. When recovery was finally attempted, his body was gone. Suspected that looters took the body away and sold or kept the weapons etc; presumed dead due to multiple wounds and amount of violence in the slums... for more information see Slums Uprisings"
Orin also noticed the name of the man leading the unit that led the APM assault. Commander was the only part of the name listed. Orin immediately got into the nearest alleyway and pulled out his communicator. He dialed 9 numbers, then a voice came on the speaker. It said one word: verify. Orin said a code into the communicator. In a manner of seconds he heard "voice print and code verified. Welcome Orin. How may I assist you?"Orin was quick to respond. "Get me a secure line to General Harrison." "One moment" Finally he heard a voice say "hello" and Orin quickly told the General what he had found. Harrison was still a little skeptical. "Orin, I still doubt he's alive. Do you know what happened in the slums uprising?" Orin stopped for a second and then said, "No. What happened?" "Mass chaos. What we didn't know when we sent your team to Apothos that day was that the slums were on the verge of revolt because of how the APM had treated them. When the gunfight broke out between your team and the APM, the inhabitants of the slums thought that the APM had finally opened fire and after that was nothing but bloodshed and chaos. There have already been over 5,000 deaths in these revolts. And even though he's overseeing it personally, the Commander is having trouble keeping it down." Orin's eyes widened when he heard this. "Wait! Who is this Commander?" Harrison chuckled. "How haven't you heard about him? He's a major leader in the APM. He controls a good portion of the army and he is in charge of keeping Apothos in check. In fact, our intel suggests he's based somewhere in Apothos. In fact, he was in charge of the assault that almost killed you guys. Here's the thing I didn't wanna have to tell you Orin. That file is incomplete. I'm familiar with the APM and how they file material. They don't include what they get from torture in their files. A few weeks after the assault, the Commander suppressed an uprising in the slums led by a leader named Jonathan Hanover. Our man inside the APM told me that when tortured, Hanover told them that he and some others had found the body of an AU soldier and looted it. There was no one but you guys on Apothos." Orin was shocked-stunned. He couldn't believe it. "Why didn't you tell me this before I came here." "I wish I could have. Our man inside the APM can only give us intel once every couple months to keep himself safe. We only got this intel after you left. I could have called you back, but I knew you wouldn't stop until you had seen some solid proof. Im sorry Orin. He's gone." Orin wished then that he could shed tears, but something else inside him stirred. Pure rage. Inside himself, he still felt as if Brandon had to be alive, but now he had proof....proof he hated. Now he knew what he had to do. "Do you know exactly where this Commander is?" Harrison replied, "Like I said, all we know is that he is based on Apothos. Why do you ask?" "Because I'm going to find him, and kill him."
{Tagging Commander}
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Post by commander on Jan 4, 2012 23:55:14 GMT
Commander paced in his office in Apothos, pondering all that had happened in the last few days. The Shores were under assault, he had been able to rescue his project from the AU with some help from Private Matthews, and now he had set his project back up in Apothos. He stood in a gigantic test chamber with his project in front of him. 10 rows of chambers with 5 chambers each. He and his lieutenant stood at two computer consoles. “Remember the codes and remember we have to do everything at the same time. Alright. Enter first code.” They both began typing furiously. Commander stopped as did his lieutenant. “Alright passcode. Passcode- Myalo. Now code number two.” After they both finished it a panel lit up. “Voice, eye, and handprint analysis needed,” the computer said. Both did so. “Final passcode – apo tis stachtes mas anodo.” Both filled this out. The main console where Commander was standing lit up as the other console shut down. The console said, “Welcome Commander. Software Version please.” “Software 6.2.” “Thank you.” Commander began to type again, putting commands into the software while his lieutenant walked up next to him. “Do you think this will really work on a massive scale like this?” “Without a doubt. The last version worked well on individual subjects, but I've specifically designed this version to work on a massive scale. Simply enough, this terminal controls 50 computers identical to the one we used on individual subjects, with each computer having its own independent power source. And we even have backup generators capable of running this whole planet just in case. We're gonna be able to run this 24/7 once its fully operational. Now we just have to test it.” As he said this, the door opened and 10 APM Skull Hunters escorted 50 men into the chamber. Commander walked up and inspected the 50 men. “Perfect selection,” He said to the SkullHunters, “where did you find these men?” One of the SkullHunters spoke, “From our AU prisoners. Hopefully they can at least be worth something now.” “They will be perfect. 5 of you strap them into each chamber one at a time.” Over the next 20 minutes, the SkullHunters strapped each man into one of the chambers. Most men were panicking, thinking that they were about to be executed; but he looked around in the chamber. He was bound at the ankles, chest, and wrists. Above him was a machine with what looked like a helmet attached. He looked at the other prisoners. And then suddenly the machine started to make noise. Panic ensued. Commander had set the machine into the process it was built for. The engines were running at full capacity and every prisoner looked around in terror. Slowly but surely the helmets began to drop slowly as the panic ensued. Screaming and pleading came from each chamber until finally the helmets dropped on the prisoners' heads. Nothing followed but silence.
~Two Hours Later~
In his office, Commander sat as his desk in a conference with Drayton. Both men were extremely excited. For the first time in months, Commander saw a smile creeping onto Drayton's face. Drayton was excitedly talking. “So it really worked? And with no drawbacks?” “Affirmative, sir. All test subjects showed 100% success rate. Complete success.” Drayton was astonished. “Good job. Good job indeed. Have they been put to the test yet?” Commander was loving how he had Drayton essentially in the palm of his hand with the success of this experiment. “Yes sir. We just did both weapons and equipment tests and we had no problems.” Drayton was now ecstatic. “Excellent! You'll be promoted for this, my friend. When can I have this technology myself?” “Sir, we can have it ready for shipment in about a month.” Drayton's demeanor changed suddenly. “A month? Why so long?” Commander could tell that Drayton's only disappointment was the time it would take to prepare and ship the whole system of technology. “Sir, you have to understand. It took us months to design the software after having months to build the correct equipment. We have to build all that again as well as test it and then ship it to you.” Drayton understood. “Very well. But I want you to personally deliver it to me. Understood?” “Yes sir.” Drayton looked up at something else and then said, “Well I have to go to another meeting....unfortunately. I will expect a report before you deliver.” “Yes sir. Over and out.” Commander ended the transmission and sat back in his chair. His lieutenant entered the room. “Success?” “Total success. What is it?” His lieutenant looked nervously around. Commander said it again. “What is it?” “Sir we had a reported sighting of one of the targets you are after.” Commander sat straight up in his seat. “What? Tell me everything.” “Well, Orin broke into our records office and stole a file on Brandon Jacobs.” “What does that mean?” his lieutenant asked. “It means he wants hope. Where is he now?” “He escaped somehow and is now on this planet.” Commander didn't waste any time. “Lock down the skies. No one leaves or enters the planet without MY permission. Also send the “new recruits” after him. Have them spread out over the planet and hunt him down. I want him alive though.” “Yes sir.” The lieutenant raced into one of the barracks. There inside stood fifty SkullHunters in full armor. Their weapons were simple but effective and they all stood at attention as the lieutenant entered. The lieutenant wasted no time. “Men. We have a new mission. Orin has been spotted on the planet. Now entrance into and out of the planet has been completely stopped. Your mission is to spread out and find him as quickly as possible. Use any methods to find and capture him but he is to be brought in alive. Understand?” All fifty nodded and left immediately. Commander watched them leave the base. It was now or never to find Orin and capture him. He would take all the members of the group he hadn't captured before one by one if he had to.
After all, it was only a month until the face of the war would change forever.
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Post by Orin on Mar 29, 2012 3:25:16 GMT
...With A Vengeance 2-2-1
(Orin)
When Orin put away his comm-device, he was at a loss. His feelings were peculiar; he knew he was infuriated at this commander, nameless as he was. But for revenge--for retribution--he did not know where to start. He was confused and lost. As he sat on that bench on the well-kept streets of Apothos, he found himself so frustrated with the mix of emotions in his mind--sorrow, hate, fear of the unknown--that the only thing he could do was put his hands on his head to soothe a sudden headache that had caught up to him from the stress of recent events. After about five minutes of thoughtless-rallying of his mind, Orin set about the task of constructing a plan regarding a course of action.
First, he got the facts laid out. He was trapped on Apothos, that was the certain fate of his. The APM's guard on the planet was tight enough to make it tough for initial entry, but now with all the raucous events caused by Orin, defenses would surely have increased tenfold, blocking all possible entry and re-entry routes. Inter-planetary was still very expensive and rare and shutting down travel and commerce between planets would only negligibly affect the APM; thus, Orin could not consider escaping via "mechant-ship-stow-away." In addition, the APM were going to be desperately trying to locate him, no matter the cost. There would be the best soldiers and agents available on the planet hunting him, nothing new; however, in this hunter-hunted situation, Orin felt like a mouse tossed into a dark, solid steel cage--with a lion. Orin was small, he could hide anywhere on the dark planet of Apothos, but sooner or the later, the lion of the Apothos Private Military would step on his hiding spot and rip him to shreds. Therefore, Orin concluded the best strategy, and quite possibly the most obvious, would be to avoid detection by all means necessary.
If this was a viable tactic, then Orin would have to go to the darkest corner of the cage--of Apothos--that being the Slums. While the military presence was recently increased there, there would not be cops on every corner and the soldiers would be in their barracks. Putting an entire planet under marshal law with intense military presence on the streets just to find one blind man was not a solution the commander would have available, considering such actions would nearly shut down Apothos' thriving commercial veins. In addition, the Slums were a violent gang-ridden place, compared to the rest of the planet's decadence, and any APM soldiers there would be focused on keeping themselves alive and out of gang conflicts, rather than actively seeking out some guy of which they had only received reports.
So, that was it; head to the Slums. That was a good option, Orin thought. But, one problem remained: the commander probably had some very well trained groups coming to find his. Of course, this was only a guess. Still, it seemed logical that if the lion were to find the mouse, he would have to stamp around with his claws first before he could feed his mouth. So, the commander, with his defenses heightened and his position secure, would feel safe enough to send out the big guns to look for Orin. That would prove to be problem for which Orin could formulate no plan. He could only remain alert and focused on present situations and conditions at all times. He would sleep little, as usual; but, he would also be more careful about where he rested and set up.
Another question popped into his mind: where to base his operations? In fact, Orin thought, what are my "operations." Orin scolded himself, One question at a time! First, he would answer the question of a headquarters, a place to call home. Orin immediately thought of the derelict skyscraper that Frank and the others had left behind when they escaped Apothos; all the weapons and ammo were back there. However, Orin knew that that would be far to big and noticeable a base in which to reside. So, he concluded that he would reside near there, and use that as a separate storage area from which to grab occasional supplies. He would figure out the details of where exactly he would post up after he got to the Slums
The other issue was what Orin planned to do. His anger had subsided somewhat through all of this thought, but he knew what he wanted: revenge. For what exactly, he wasn't sure. He knew that he would not rest in his search for Brandon until he found a living breathing Jacobs or a corpse, solid proof. The intelligence could have been wrong, but whatever the case, Orin knew one thing: the commander was in some way responsible for Brandon's disappearance and injury. That alone was cause enough for punishment in Orin's mind.
Still, how would he do it? How would he bring justice to the commander? He was just one man, and as conditions currently existed, he could barely throw symbolic or verbal threats at the man. He was a ghost: he didn't have a name, he didn't have a location, and he barely had a presence, other than the obvious army of course. For all Orin knew, the contact that provided Harrison with this information could have been fabricating the whole thing as a double agent, but if that were the case then Orin would really be lost on Apothos with literally no mission at all. So, for lack of other purpose, Orin assumed the commander existed, assumed he had a set location, and assumed he was a living, breathing human being.
Even with those assumptions, he had trouble figuring out how to get at the commander, how to fight him. For all the commander was concerned, Orin was just a bug to be squashed--or a mouse to be eaten. But, in every cat and mouse encounter, the mouse runs away (for obvious reasons); but, Orin thought, what if the mouse stood his ground? What if he fought? Orin knew it would be foolish to immediately start creating havoc on Apothos, so he would run and hide and bide his time for a little while longer. How would a mouse kill a lion? By getting at it's eyes, blinding it--by dulling it's teeth, disabling it piece by piece; and then of course, finishing it off. But, how would a tiny mouse get up to the lion's head in the first place? By cutting the claws, so that the lion had to dip it's head down and finish the job himself. That was it. It was not going to be a complicated plan, just a plan that required a lot of things to play correctly. Orin would let the commander hunt him, and when the time came, once Orin knew the Slums inside and out, he would lure the commander's elites into his playground of destruction, annihilating his best little by little. Then, in time the commander would grow frustrated by the failures of his lowly, or even elite, minions and stoop down to squash the mouse himself.
His very methods and objectives for success would be his failure.
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