Rotten Paradise

Det havde været en lang nat, men han havde da fået tid til at sove og han følte sig nu frisk og klar, mens spændingen ved det forstående job gjorde han følte sig mere i live end han længe havde gjort.

Han havde nået at færdiggøre noget af hans forskning, dog ikke alle de våbengadgets han havde håbet, men alligevel noget at arbejde med. Derudover havde han fået analyseret den gamle kvindes blod, men han havde endnu ikke fundet frem til hendes navn og identitet, han vidste han sandsynligvis nemt kunne finde det, da den forhåbentligt sværeste del var overstået, men tiden havde været begrænset.
Slutteligt havde han researchet hvad han kunne om Icarus, og det havde han været glad for. Der var stadig meget der var uvist men han havde kunnet nå at pakke og forberede sig bedre på jobbet.
Derudover havde han nået videre i sit arbejde for The Hierarchi og med lidt held ville de fremskridt han og hans hold gjorde ugentligt snart give udslag i højere stillinger og bedre budget. Han blev jo nødt til at beholde facaden som den ambitiøse forsker ligeså snart han var tilbage blandt skyborns.

Han havde håbet han kunne mødes med hans bror lidt før de andre ville komme, men da han kom frem var han og den gamle de sidste til at ankomme. Og igen blev han overrasket over hvor mange perfekte komplette "udklædninger" hans bror skiftede mellem og havde fuldstændig styr på. Han tænkte igen på om hans bror mon ville kunne huske hvordan han selv så ud hvis han ikke skulle "spille" sig selv hver gang de var tilbage på deres poster i The Hierarchi og var sammen med resten af familien. Og dage overvejede han også om hans bror måske brugte så meget tid i hans mange forklædninger som The Broker at han faktisk kun kunne huske hvordan han selv så ud fordi han havde familiefotos til rådighed til at hjælpe ham med at huske hvem han var.
Det var dog kun spekulationer og indtil videre havde hans bror ikke givet ham grund til at tvivle på hukommelsen, tværtimod var hans forklædninger altid upåklageligt perfekte.

De var gået ind på baren EX269 en af The Brokers pengemaskiner. The Gunsmith havde været her et par gange før og ”brød sig ikke” om stedet. I virkeligheden elskede Case hvordan hele ”maskinen” virkede, hvordan teknologien påvirkede folk, men i sin forklædning som The Gunsmith havde han besluttet at ikke bryde sig om stedet.
Stedet vrimlede med folk, der var larm, luften emmede tykt med lugten af sved, sex, spiritus og andre lignende dunste.
Mange ville kalde det ungdommens oprør og frigørelse, men virkeligheden var at de fleste der var her, ikke havde viljen til at modstå alle de små teknologiske ”våben” der lokkede en ud i den dansende mængde, fik en til at bruge penge, og være total løssluppen og bare give los. Det var lavet for folk kunne stikke af fra hverdagen og nyde nuet, på en måde som gjorde The Broker endnu rigere, og samtidig kunne være facade for lidt mere lyssky handler.
Nej i forklædning som The Gunsmith brød han sig ikke om det her sted, der var alt for mange alarmklokker der ringede for en så paranoid person som ham.
Og det virkede til han ikke var den i den lidt særprægede gruppe der bevægede sig efter The Broker, der havde det værst. Mutanten så om muligt mere anspændt ud end han plejede at gøre i hans altid opmærksomme væremåde, og selv det omvandrende kraftværk så ud til at få hovedpine herinde.

De nåede op til baren hvor The Broker talte med Lukas og snart efter var de på vej efter denne ret særprægede klædte mand ud til et af de private mødelokaler, lokale Br-01.

Da folk havde sat sig ved det runde bord i lokalet startede Giro ud med at sige han havde fået en disk han havde taget fra en Hierachy agent og denne smed han på bordet. Og inden Giro havde talt sin sætning færdig om han håbede en af de tilstedeværende kunne finde ud af noget med den, havde The Gunsmith fundet sin PDA frem og var i gang med at bryde krypteringen.
Han kunne ligeså godt begynde at øve sig i at hacke manuelt igen ud fra den research han havde lavet ville han få brug for det meget snart. Han håbede bare den krypterede disk kunne fortælle ham mere.

Ca 7 sekunder efter Giro havde smidt disketten på bordet kiggede The Gunsmith en smule mere fokuseret rundt på de tilstedeværende end hvad han plejede, og sagde:

”Well, it is part of an encrypted message I have found a couple of times during my research within the last 24 hours as well. The problem is it seems damaged and incomplete. But well you can listen to it for yourselves.”
“ the blackened city. Until year ago…” The Gunsmith læste derefter hele beskeden op før han fortsatte:

”so as you can see, it is a lot of useful information. My problem at the moment is, I have no idea as to whom cerebus are, or why this information is on a disk on the way to the hierarchy and has surfaced in a couple of other and rather inaccessible places, or how much of the information is lacking as the message miss some of the start.

But what I think we do know if this information is reliable and I see no reason not to take precaution as if it is true, whether it is or not, is that we are gonna need to be extra careful when entering this labyrinth. I think since 3 of us are techs and therefore will need to be on closed circuits and systems before we enter, that at least for me, my hacking speed will be considerable slower as I need to do everything manually through my pda. This will then make our progress through this labyrinth slower than what I would have liked.

Sadly I also believe this is just some of the precautions we need to take and some of the troubles we might meet. We might also need to consider that if this information is not reliable, how come it exist, who have created false information and for what purpose?
If it is true though, it probably would be smart to avoid trying to traverse via the cyber’verse as it seems it could be rather deadly maybe even for individuals like us, it might end up being necessary as it seems it might be the only way to move freely through this labyrinth.

But well, besides the risk of half our parties brains could be fried on this mission and all of us blasted to smithereens in a sneak attack by a walking turret I guess this will be a breeze.
So how do you all think we should proceed?”

Det sidste sagde han med hans sædvanlige rolige let smilende og distræte attitude, mens han lænede han sig tilbage i sit sæde og afventede folks reaktioner og svar. Alt imens han lyttede begyndte han at scanne disken videre for svar. Alt han havde sagt var sandt, det var det der var på disken. Men der så også ud til at være flere informationer på den hvis han gravede dybere. Han håbede i hvert fald på han kunne spore den enten tilbage til kilden, eller måske finde ud af hvem modtageren skulle have været.

Faceless followed the contractors into the lair of the Broker. She hadn't stepped more than two steps into the fleshpit before the thundering rhythm reached her. It hit her like a tidal wave, thumping in her veins, devouring her attention, demanding a response.

'Stop it! Dammit Faceless, you can't lose concentration now!'

But the music continued it's relentless onslaught, overloading her senses. She couldn't concentrate, the music, the heat, the close space, the moving flesh all around her, the reckless euphoria.

'M-must k-keep it togeth... '

Soulthief opened her eyes. Sacks of flesh and blood surrounded her. This was sex and passion, fire and flames. It assaulted her, tried to consume her. But it was useless. Soulthief's will was unyielding as the grave, uncaring as the universe.
Her senses was as the wolfs, and they told her, there was something in the air. The sweaty and nervous anticipation of the sheep dressed as wolfs. Prey, disguised as predator. Oh, the sweet song, the sweet music, the rhythmic thumps that flew from their veins.. The song of the blood of the prey. The song that only Soulthief could hear.

Still unmoving Soulthief could hear it. The nervous beating of their last song.

But there was something else! It was not the sheep on the floor, mindless in their escape from reality. It was not the feared Smiling Hawk, he was still talking in front of Soulthief. It was not his brother with the heart of coal. Neither was it the Monster or the Unliving Warrior.

This was a song of a true predator. A song of insatiable bloodthirst.

Where was the enemy? The thousand eyes, always watching from the electronic darkness? No, Soulthief had eluded seers and oracles much more omniscient than the simple surveillance of a fleshpit. The song was rising now. An orchestrate of violence. The melody became clearer and focused, now it all made sense. This song wasn't meant for Soulthief! It was a last serenade for the Monster. It was the...

...Faceless wrestled conscious back from the entity, that she seemed to have unwillingly invited into her mind and body.

'...the fuck was that!? Some cybersoul I stole from Dimitri or an genetic eldritch imprint of his? Luckily it seems to be a vastly different being than Bonecrusher, thank the Black Lords for small miracles. But what in the wastes was the weird stuff about “songs of bloodthirst” or whatever? Are we compromised!? Dammit all but there is no way to be certain, though it should not be possible. I must stay hidden from all the sensors, cameras, and other detectors. Then when I know what the threat is, I can take action with the element of surprise. Of course this means the other contractors are at risk, but they are professionals with immense powers, so they must be extremely prepared for chaos and battle.'

From the moment Faceless had entered the club, she had kept hidden from most rudimentary surveillance devices like cameras, mostly out of habit, but now she started to focus on true invisibility from all the possible technological menaces. She lowered her body temperature so it matched the temperature of the air in the club, this was of course made possible by her unnatural body physiology. She then made sure to move in synchronization with whomever was near her, so she could fool any eventual motion detector. She knew that this fluid and agile way of moving would pretty much destroy any illusion that she was really an old woman, but that seemed like a reasonable risk.

She had totally missed what the, now yellowed-eyed, Broker had tried to say because of the hypnotizing music and the effect in her it had awakened. A man was leading them through invisible and maze-like passages on the dance-floor, finally arriving at a private conference room. When the door closed behind them the music stopped abruptly, but at least Faceless returned fully to the present.

Having gathered her wits, Faceless shifted her attention to the other contractors. When Giro threw an encryption-disk at the table, Faceless couldn't help but crook an eyebrow.

'I didn't really think Giro would be the one to do the information gathering in this group. Well almighty Broker, how does it feel to be bested by a guy who can't use an elevator?'

Faceless couldn't conceal a smug smile in the Brokers direction, it was just to funny. As always, he just looked unperturbed and confident, while wearing a blood-colored shirt.

'I hope it's blood-colored and not blood-soaked...'

She could see on his face that he had figured something out about her, probably because of her possessed behavior earlier. She also studied the faces of the other contractors. They seemed on edge. It was painfully obvious that they were on guard, but like herself they didn't look like they had identified the source of the danger yet. She could sympathize with that. It was this place, this club, there were almost unlimited chaos in here, and an innumerable directions from which an attack could launch. Physically or otherwise. The only one who didn't seem to have noticed anything were the hacker-kid. He was paranoid as ever, but it seemed clearly more like his general distrust of anything that couldn't be hacked or accessed by his infernal software. Almost as if to support Faceless train of thoughts he actually started to access Giro's datadisk with an extremely advanced manual cybertool.

'You sense of danger is all relative to computers, is it not? You are on the hunt for an insanely dangerous A.I. And you don't flinch, you are even prepared to deal with potentially worm-infested datadisks without hesitation. But when it comes to the world of flesh and blood, you waver. You can't analyze them the same way you can a datastream, so you avoid the vessels of bone and blood instead, and that have doomed you to paranoia. That is why you can't sense the real danger here like the rest of us, because your prodigal intellect, attention and instinct only works on cold software and computers. So since your the only one who have not sensed the real danger, does that mean our hidden enemy is human!?'

While Faceless made these deduction, Gunsmith had hacked the disk almost instantaneously, recited his findings, analyzed the content and concluded the best way to proceed to proceed. All this in and medical and efficient way.

Faceless was just about to answer him, but a thundering roar of destruction drowned out her words.

Soon the deviant would burn. Ares stalked the shadows outside the club, that temporally served as a shield for their target. The only reason that Ares and Janus, his brother in the peacekeeper corps, had descended to this filthy plane of existence was because a true deviant to the Great Plan had revealed himself.

Last night an irregularity had occurred. It had started as a simple murder, which the Acolytes had investigated to the best of their lowborn abilities. Luckily the ever vigilant Hierarchy of Dialogue had taken over the investigation, when the witnesses kept recounting an unbelievable testimony. The witnesses said a dark figure, probably male, had vanished in thin air only to instantly reappear in a different place. Technology of warping was not unheard of outside the hierarchies, but still it was worthy of thorough investigation, dangerous technology in the wrong was a threat to the public order after all. The Hierarchy of Dialogue had invited all the witnesses to drop by their facilities to undergo and extensive questioning, and luckily they had all accepted readily. As a peacekeeper, Ares did not know exactly what the methods of the other two hierarchies was, so what the questioning had entailed he knew not. What he did know though, was the results. In a rare show of cooperation between the hierarchies, the peacekeepers had been contacted to help catch the deviant who threatened the good of the people.

What the Hierarchy of Dialogue had discovered was the existence of chrono-technology outside the hierarchies! It was a mystery how the lowborns had discovered the forbidden knowledge, but when the deviant's brain was extracted from his skull, they would rip the answers from his memories.

The deviant had been easy to find, he didn't avoid cameras and the unusual heat that emanated from his body made him stand out on any heat-sensor. After a couple of hours the Hierarchy of Dialogue had given Ares the coordinates of the deviant. In plain sight of cameras, the deviant had just entered a establishment by the name of EX269, and Ares and his team could finally close in on him. Ares, Janus and 20 acolytes had gathered outside the club, making most of the crowd waiting to enter very nervous. As a precaution they had not shown themselves before, they had only observed him through the cameras until now, lest they spook him and give him a chance to flee. They had set up timewards in the entire district, preventing any form of time-travel to occur while the wards was in place, and now they were ready to go in for the kill.

Ares threw two quake-mines at the facade of the building. When they hit, they went of in silence, for they were not explosive as such. They resonated at an exact frequency that could tear the atoms of inanimate material apart. While they went of in silence, the sundering crash from the side of the building coming down certainly resembled an explosion though. Then the screaming started.
The acolytes started to storm the place ready to kill everything, while Janus placed himself behind a wrecked vehicle with his plasma sniper rifle. Ares equipped his quake-gloves and walked calmly behind the acolytes with the patience and grace of a born predator.

[GM event! Det her sker samtidig med jeres sidste posts, og denne post slutter samtidig med min (og rasmus's). I er velkomne til at tackle jeres nye omgang problemer som i vil, men hver forsigtige. Jeres karaktere vil blive straffet hvis i ikke tænker jer om nu! Men så længe at i har ordenlige forklaringer til at understøtte jeres handlinger, er der nogenlunde frie tøjler. Husk at i er frie til selv at styre og skabe NPC'er (til en hvis grad i hvert fald). For eksempel kan en acolyte nemt kan blive distraheret af en af de tidligere dansere, som nu ligger skrigende på gulvet, hvis i det er sådan i vil have det. Det er kun begrænset af jeres kreativitet! Lad dog være med at undervurdere dem, acolytes er toptrænede soldater, og peacekeepers er omtrent på jeres styrkeniveau. En ting til, hvis i vil dræbe mine peacekeepers, så skal det nok tage flere posts, de går ikke ned så nemt. Men i behøver jo heller ikke at kæmpe med nogen hvis i har en ide til at undgå det hele i første omgang ]

The Broker havde siddet og smilet hen for sig selv imens han iagttog de andre. Med hans broders information havde det været relativt nemt at gennemskue hvad der var sket med den gamle dame. Der havde været en fejl i en af hendes mange maskeringer. Muligvis i neuro-cortexet i hendes Enhanced Masque of Personality and Appearance, eller E.M.P.A i lægmands termer.. Med minder selvfølgeligt at det var noget helt andet der var på spil. The Broker's tanker kredsede omkring mutanter og deres mange ukortlagte evner som det første fare signal ramte ham.

Det første signal var en advarsel om fremmed indtrængen på hans kamera. Det i sig selv var ingen farer, bortset fra at ingen hackede sig ind på hans territorium. Det næste var braget fra flere tons sten og metal der faldt til jorden. En rislen gik ned af The Brokers rygrad som noget gik op for ham. Det her mindede alt for meget om The Heirachy's metoder til indtrængen. På få sekunder havde han gennemgået samtlige af kameraerne på hans interne forbindelse til stedet. Det var The Heirachy's!

Et kort sekunder faldt Alexander's optræden næsten fra hinanden. Hans øjne flimrede imellem grønt og gult i et split sekund, så medmindre man direkte stirrede på ham i det svage lys ville man ikke opdage det. Han følte panikken stige op fra hans mellemgulv og paralysere hans lemmer. Sveden sprang frem på hans pande og blodet forsvandt fra hans ansigt, hvilket fik ham til at se næsten dødningeagtig ud. Hans planer faldt fra hinanden en efter en. The Heirachy! The Heirachy of fucking Dialogue!?! Han frygtede The Heirachy's, men Order og Propserity kunne han arbejde med. Deres metoder var til at forstå, de var noget han kendte til.. Men Dialogue.. Deres måde at operere på lignede hans egen alt for meget.. Og deres ressurcer var grænseløse. Der her kunne ikke være rigtigt.. han var blevet fundet.. De havde opdaget..

Med en kraftanstrengelse fik The Broker styr på sig selv igen. Han rystede panikken af sig som man smed en frakke og strøg en hånd igennem sit hår, imens han betragtede synderne med sine rovdyrs-gule øjne.

"Gentlemen, m'lady, we have been compromised. This very moment, the forces of The Heirachy of Dialogue have infiltrated this facility."

Sagde han roligt imens han betragtede dem hver især. Til Gunsmith sendte han en intern besked.

Download the servers 1-9, code 019Y76D002BR From this link. Send them directly to me afterwards, leave no trace of yourself.. I will sever every link from here and destroy this place.

The Broker rejste sig op og gik over til en væggene med sin kuffert i hånden. Langsomt stillede han den ned ved siden af sig, med blikket vendt mod væggen.

"Someone in this room have messed up greatly. You have brought the Heirachy down upon my business and cost me a considerable amount of creds.."

Roligt tog The Broker hans modificerede laser håndvåben op af tasken. Det var en skønhed som Gunsmith havde konstrueret til ham. Med 10 skyd per lade enhed, havde den samme kraft som en mindre riffel, dog på bekostning af sigtbarhed og størrelsen på lade enhederne. Nonchalant vendte han sig om og kiggede på de andre igen, hans ansigt lagt i samme neutrale forretningsfolder som før.

"You have a choice now. Either follow me, and start getting your act together. Or stay here and get killed. I have several escape routes ready for such an outcome as this, and I am not staying to fight with both Acolytes and Peacekeepers."

Som han talte begyndte adskillige procedurer at gå i gang. Først lukkede han samtlige links til kameraerne ned, så dem der havde leeched sig på dem ikke kunne få fat i ham også. Derefter begyndte han at armere de fjernstyrede eksplosiver som han havde placeret rundt omkring i fundamentet og skelettet af bygningen. Der ville ikke være så meget som en hel mikrochip tilbage af det her sted når han var færdig.

"The choice is yours gentlemen, m'lady. I shall now initiate Plan: Remotionem de praeterito."

Ved hans sidste ord skete der en hel masse igennem hele klubben. Samtlige kameraer gik ned, samt alle generatorerne kortsluttede. Strømmen forsvandt fra klubben og området i en hundrede meters omkreds, en effektiv kortslut og distraktion for normale styrker. Han regnede dog ikke med at det ville stoppe Peacekeepers særligt længe, hvis overhovedet.

Plan: Remotionem de praeterito var hans sidste forsvar. Den lukkede alt ned omkring klubben og armerede ville sætte eksplosiverne af indenfor den fastsatte tidsramme. 3 minutter. Han havde egentligt heller ikke behøvet at sige det højt da det helle var styret igennem hans interne link til stedet, men han kunne ikke dy sig for lidt drama.

Bag ham åbnede væggen sig og afslørede en trappe ned. En udvej.

"The choice is yours." gentog han, imens han tog sin kuffert og begyndte sin flugt imens han tjekkede sine interne links for at sikre sig at alt var blevet afskåret fra ham.

I klubben var kaos opstartet. De mange Acolytes havde stormet stedet med brutal effektivitet og en reguler nedslagtning var igang. Den ene Peacekeeper var trådt ind og vandrede som om han tilhørte scenen naturligt. Døden var ham ikke ukendt. Da lyset gik, indtrådte sand kaos. De mange Acolytes begyndte at råbe i forvirring og sigtede deres semi-automatiske rifler mod både fjende og frænde. Peacekeepersne blev dog ikke hylet ud af den. Ihvertfald ikke længe.

Jared kiggede hurtigt op og stirrede i et kort sekund intenst på døren ud til festen hvor eksplotionen lød, og skrigende kort efter begyndte., og trak hurtigt sin pistol og ladede den med en unormalt stor patron, der kun lige så ud til at kunne passere gennem det forstærkede løb.

Så snart Brokeren havde nævnt Hierachy of Dialouge, lukkede han mentalt ned i et kort øjeblik før han fik taget sig sammen. Det var alt for farligt at give sig i kast med dem nu, især nu hvor hans endelige mål begyndte at kunne skimtes svagt i horisonten. Det måtte ikke fejle.

Han var med på Brokers ide om retræte før han havde sagt sætningen færdig, og viste det med et afmålt hurtigt nik, mens han overvejede om gårdsdagens hændelse kunne have noget med situationen at gøre.. Han forbandede for 100'ne gang sin uforsigtighed.

Imens han rejste sig, begyndte han at klargøre sin indre maskine til at gå i dvale mode, så han hurtigt ville kunne slå stort set al energiudladning fra, så den sidste rest der var nødvendig for at holde ham i live ville være usyndlig for alt andet end de allerkraftigste sensorer, og selv de ville havde svært ved at opfatte det som andet end et menneske der havde høj kropstemperatur efter at have løbet eller anstrengt sig meget..

"Lets move!" sagde han højt til de andre, og bevægede sig hurtigt hend til den hemmelige udgang, og håbede at de andre ikke havde tænkt sig at spilde tid på at ville kæmpe..

Adrenalinen pumpede… Sekunder føltes som minutter… Selv fra før eksplosionen gik tingene af lave. Først den gamle dame… som begyndte at vække uro i ham, hendes øjne flakkede.. næsten som besat. Normal ville man ikke se det, men Giro havde et talent for at finde dem,… dem som kunne være til fare. Da eksplosionen ramte, sad Giro helt koldt. Hans hænder sad roligt under jakken og knugede om hans knive, som en fjeder der bare ventede på at gå af. The Brokers facade havde en glimt af usikkerhed, et glimt der varede kort og hurtigt blev selvsikkert igen.. nu med en plan.

*They are here.. my enemy.. My hatred know no limit and he wants me to run. I don’t want to run I want to kill.. everyone*

Hurtigt rystede han sig selv ud af sin vredestrance.

*Be rational now Giro*

Var der en i blandt som var spion? Det ville være snedigt at The Broker at samle de mest eftersøgte for så at få dem fanget, men nej, så ville spillet have været et andet og scenen anderledes. Han måtte stole på dem, dem alle sammen. Hvis denne mission skulle trænge igennem, med bare et glimt af et håb så skulle alle stole på hinanden.

Giro rejste sig, med trukket knive gik hen foran døren ud til larmen.

”Go, I will be the last one out”

Giro ville gå sidst. I det spinkle håb at en eller anden tosse fra the hierachy kiggede ind inden den hemmelige dør gik i.

Han var, vandt til at flygte.. Han havde dog bare lyst til at kæmpe, en trang der hele tiden blev større og større. Hans tanker var på det seneste begyndt at kredse meget om hans fortid, om hans mor, som de tog fra ham. Han ville få sin hævn, bare ikke lige nu.

Han stod med sine knive og ventede, stille, imens de andre bevægede sig imod den hemmelige dør.

*I know their weekspots, three daggers flying in under a second. One in the eye, shoulder and chest*

(Jeg undskylder det har taget så lang tid at svare. Yderligere undskylder jeg hvis der er stavefejl og min post er lidt roddet, den er blevet til midt i min undervisning, i små brudstykker af gangen. Men anyways, here we go again^^ )


Tiden stod stille for Case da det koloenorme brag ramte hans øre. En million små sanseindtryk, tanker, ideer og følelser strømmede igennem ham lige indtil frygten indtraf en sekund efter. Den lammede ham i yderligere et sekund inden han fik samlet sig.

The Gunsmith besluttede sig med det samme for at det med at øve sig i at hacke manuelt kunne vente, lige nu skulle tingene være effektive. Kameraerne var ikke hans brors længere, og det lignede langt væk The Hierarchy’s værk. Han havde ikke tid eller ressourcer til at tage kontrollen af dem tilbage, dog kunne han slukke for strømforsyningen til dem, så de ikke kunne filme videre, og forhåbentligt ville det forsinke deres progression igennem bygningen ind til de inderste kamre.

Heldigvis var de private rums kameraer opsat i et lukket og privat system så dem havde The Hierarchy endnu ikke hverken kendskab eller adgang til.
Hans bror var kommet frem til samme konklusion om hvem der angreb, for i samme sekund begyndte han sin tale, og fortalte de andre at det var The Hierarchy. Imens The Brokers talestrøm begyndte tikkede en besked ind i The Gunsmiths hoved fra hans bror om at downloade serverne, og slette alt på dem bagefter. Herpå lå også videoerne fra de private rum, så dette gik han i gang med, med det samme.

Imens begyndte han at arbejde på at hacke sig ind i forskellige informationsnetværk og komme af bagveje ind i The Hierarchys kommunikationsveje. Han måtte finde ud af hvordan de havde fundet dem, og hvorfor de var her nu. Imens fortalte hans bror om nogen måtte have dummet sig og fortalte han havde en flugtvej til dem, men at folk skulle tage sig sammen(det var vidst ikke de ord han brugte men pt. havde the Gunsmith travlt med at finde så meget information så muligt, så de kom bedst ud af suppedasen de var i).

Han fik hentet alt ned fra deres servere, tilintetgjort ethvert spor efter deres brug, dobbelt sikret det var helt fjernet, genopfyldt dem med ondsindede virus, så hvis der skulle være en brøkdel af en mikrochip tilbage efter hans brors bombe, og det skulle lykkes The Hierarchy at finde en ekstremt kompetent techarbejder til at få den repareret og åbnet chippen, ville den smadre og ødelægge enhver form for tech der prøvede at læse den.

The Gunsmith begyndte at smile, det her var grunden til han havde sagt ja til jobbet, det her var hans element. Det gjaldt om at være forberedt, hurtigt tænkende, effektiv, og samtidig nyde det adrenalinrush der kom når ens liv var i overhængende fare, og det eneste der redede en var ens evner.

Hans bror var nået til at starte sin plan, og hans hemmelige dør åbnede sig. I samme øjeblik var The Gunsmith igennem en sikkerhedshul i The Heirarchys forsvar. Han fandt hurtigt frem til ordren og de informationer The Hierarchy havde haft travlt med at skaffe det sidste døgns tid.

”Så det er kraftværket der har været uforsigtigt” tænkte The Gunsmith for sig selv, ”lad os håbe han lærer noget af det og han holder bedre øje med kameraer fra nu af.”

Hans øjne begyndte at flimre og i løbet af nogle få sekunder havde han tjekket både sig selv og sine kompagnoner og set dem igennem med forskellige former for sensorer og lysbølger, og hvor godt de ville være skjult. Giro bevægede sig som forventet med et rovdyrs behændighed, selv når han var i gang med at tænke over andre ting, det lå tydeligt så dybt forankret i ham at han skulle gemme sig for The Hierarchy at det var blevet en del af ham at holde sig skjult i et overvågningssamfund.

Hans bror og ham selv var perfekt skjult af hans CD-OA-009, og blev ikke registreret af tech, men kunne kun ses med menneskelige øjne, selv deres egne kameraer havde ikke kunnet optage dem. Faceless kunne åbenbart også skjule sig bedre end han havde troet. Hun var komplet usynlig på alt der kunne se temperaturforskelle og ellers lignede hun jo bare en småskør gammel, men skrøbelig og fredelig dame.

Jared bevægede sig også perfekt og perfekt afmålt. Men når man tjekkede ham med forskellige syn der kunne se temperaturforskelle nærmest lyste han. Her var han så meget varmere end andre, at han næsten kunne gøre folk med normal temperatur usynlige bag ham. Dog var han nu ved at køle ned, men var dog stadig ligeså synlig som en normal varm person.

The Gunsmith håbede seriøst ikke at Jared, så farlig en person, ikke havde en bedre måde at skjule sig på, end at lukke ned for hans techdele for ellers ville deres arbejde blive noget sværere. ”Kunne være vi skulle få givet ham et ordentligt cloaking device, hvis han ikke selv har et der fungerer”

Hans bror begyndte at løbe ned af hans flugtvej, Jared indvilligede og fulgte lige efter.

Giro ville vente og gå sidst ud. Og Giro havde mord i øjnene da han stillede sig med en hånd på en kniv og kiggede stift mod indgangsdøren.

Til Faceless og Giro sagde The Gunsmith: ”Well, it’s not that I mind you being the last one out the door Giro, or wait for the lady to decide whether she will join us in the tunnels, or find her own way and meet up with us later.” Den sidste del af sætningen sagde han mans han kiggede venligt I faceless retning.

“ But I think, I better go last, and we better go NOW, as the last person will need to activate the C-10-S3-R model 657, and seal the door shut behind us, without making a instant melt down of the core, and we only got approximately 3 minutes before it will be deadly to be in this end of the tunnel.”

In the past when long periods of solitude and silence had occurred, she had often speculated about the irrational changing line between chaos and order. She had run extraction mission with the anarchistic angels without anything deviating from the plan, and she had seen perfectionist veteran peacekeepers ending up in primitive slug-fests when they skirmished with the guilds. But only now when everything was left at the mercy of the Black Lords, did she truly understand why some situations never deteriorated from the given directory, while other missions seemed to constantly dance in the eye of the Wicked Sisters. Missions like this.
The answer was power. Pure and simple. With enormous amounts of power, fewer missteps and failures were allowed before order descended into chaos. There was a lot of power in this room.

Almost as if she were in a trance, Faceless watched fascinated as her teammates faced their imminent descend. The Broker looked lost. His entire being froze for a second, and no false emotion, no slick smile, and no veiled threats crossed his face. He just froze in mind and body when faced with chaos, but then like it had never happened, his entire being expanded and moved into furious action. Not the chaotic or panicked kind of action, but the orderly, systemic and barely restrained kind of action. His eyes glazed over as he he divided his mind between here and somewhere else, and still he was talking and threatening us, and arming himself. There was something very telling of a man who, when faced with inevitable and unstoppable chaos, started to impose order.

Even when things go wrong they must still go wrong according to plan? That seems like a totally healthy way of life. Not a super controlling and insufferable way of life. No sir, not at all!

Jared seemed to be tackling the unplanned development in pretty much the same way. After a short second of gathering himself, he attacked the new situation with a soldiers efficiency, and didn't waste a moment with unnecessary stuff.

With Giro, Faceless had expected this to be a trigger for a massive bloodfest, she had readily envisioned that he would begin slaughtering everything, given that this was an excellent chance for a little retribution. But he remained calm and unfazed, or as calm and unfazed as could be asked, given the circumstances, he even offered to guard their retreat.

Retreat? Right, need to move Faceless. Don't just stand there, start moving!

Just as Faceless started to move she saw something that made her hearts skip a beat and froze her blood. In the middle of this chaos the face and aura of the Gunsmith had changed into bizarre and unlikely form, that to Faceless's eyes resembled a hauntingly visage of inevitable doom. He looked like he was enjoying himself, and gave a genuine maniac smile to the terrified wall, all the while it looked like his throat tried to restrain a gruesome cackle. Soon his eyes changed focus and tried to will surrender out of other hapless inanimate objects. Then his eyes started to flicker.

Faceless stunned by the sight of this walking catastrophe could do nothing but stare in wonder at his unnatural reaction.

Don't tell me that the fate of the entire rebellion rely on the cooperation of a death-kissed psychopath. This is all just a bad dream, soon I will wake up and meet the sane and mentally well-balanced contractors, and we will form a professional team.

Shaking herself mentally, and reminding herself again that it was of absolutely no use to be annoyed at neither the weather nor the Gunsmith, she nodded at his urging to leave and started to...

Whatever she thought of doing, she was interrupted by a piercing noise. Faceless never saw were the shot came from, but the force of it flung her across the room and she hit the far wall of the room with a sickening force.

Fuck...

While trying to force air down her lungs she glanced at her chest, and saw to her numb terror that she had a fist sized hole through her chest.

Breathe! Breathe Faceless! Dammit lungs! I swear unless you start working, I'm going to sell you bastards in an organ chop-shop!

Despite persuasive arguments, her lungs seemed intent on disobeying her.

Just.. need... to... brea...

And then came blackness.

Trojan heretic has infiltrated the network. Switching all systems to offline and dedicated databases. All weapon handling set to manual.

Janus lazily noted the droning of his VI, as it kept rattling about minor problems. So what if the heretics had a Freak or two among them, that would hardly help them against the Order. That said, he couldn't help but give some grudging respect to the heretic scum for the timed explosion, fast maneuverings and cyper-acrobatics. But such cheap tricks would only buy them a few more minutes, and the unfolding chaos would soon be calmed by the will of Order.

In less than thirty heartbeats since they had begun the operation, the seedy fleshpit had practically begun it's cauterization of the wound it left on the World of Order. First every single camera had been either shot down, or left in the hand of the chaosfreak. Second the entire building had reverberated with signals from heretic timed explosives. Third, Ares had started to wreck havoc with his quake gloves and quake mines. Though there were some catharsis in seeing this blight of chaos destroyed, it also complicated their mission exponentially, as there still were no sign of the heretic and his allies.

Through his scope, Janus watched as Ares still hunted for for his prey amidst the hastily forming ruins of the former den of sin. Ares had the single minded focus of a true peacekeeper, and Janus watched with satisfaction as everything in in the path of Ares got destroyed, be it a sinful lowborn, an expendable acolyte or a faithless wall. In the case of the latest wall of unfatih, it's fall revealed the instigators of chaos. The heretics. Though they were still 30 meters and several rooms from Ares, and only barely in range to be spotted by the echoes of Ares's quake technology and Janus's own tracking skills, the targets were finally revealed.  

As the wall crumbled by the force of a quake-infusd blow, Janus collected all the information available on all the sensory planes and ran the data through his VI. Two humanoid targets, both without notable technology. Before the inhabitants of the room had a chance to sense their doom, Janus fired a shot from his plasma cannon at what his VI scanned as the weakest target. With a sound of death, green plasma shot 200 meters through dust, rubble, unfortunate acolyte, three walls and at last heretic. The form of the heretic disappeared out of range and Janus targeted the remaining heretic with his cannon of justice.

”It is beyond clear that a stabilizing element is needed for this mission” The dark and slim councilman argued.

With a dismissive wave of her hand, the skyborn councilwoman rebutted. “Faceless has never let us down before, if she needed more help she would say so, this speculating is pointless.”

Nestor suppressed his sigh of frustration, and instead opted to just glare maliciously at everybody. This session had lasted 11 hours at this point and still they were getting nowhere. Every argument for and against an addition to Faceless's team had been voiced several times already, and he strongly suspected that this session had now morphed into some elaborate power-struggle. It was likely that none of the other councilmembers actually even cared about the original question anymore, they were just all to stubborn to come to a resolution at this point.

Blocking out the arguments, he linked into the Organizations network and started looking for a contractor. He wasn't certain that the team Faceless had picked couldn't successfully handle the job, but a little insurance against bad luck and inevitable betrayal would probably be a wise precaution. With that in mind he found a perfect candidate for the job. A relatively young but capable contractor with a non-exiting background, meaning she was resourceful enough to keep it hidden from the network of the Organization. As an added bonus she had shown clear signs of a deep resentment against the Hierarchies, furthermore she also had a low body-count which spoke well of her skills and professionalism. Well a low body-count compared to the other contractors. But still, some levelheadedness was sorely needed, if Faceless's rapport was anything to go by.

With that in mind he send out orders to the fixers of the Organization. Orders to secure the services of this Ember and orders to give her whatever she desired in return.


(GM-retcon: I har selvfølgelig allesammet modtaget en besked ingame om tilføjelsen til holdet. Det var aftalt at i skulle regroupere med hende efter jeres møde i klubben)

GM UPDATE!!!"#111!!9!!111!!

For at få alting til at passe tror jeg vi bliver nødt til at ændre på post-rækkefølgen en gang til. Den nye post-orden er:

1. Jacob
2. Rasmus
3. Frank
4. Kim
5. Ricko
6. (Andreas hvis han giver)

Holy shit!!!

En lyd han havde hørt før og som han har undgået før.. men aldrig fundet dets oprindelse. Det var en jæger, en dygtig en, ikke en typisk en af de dumme hierarchy’s sataner. Men.. Skuddet var ikke til ham, hans ellers splitsekund hurtig reaktion sendte ham på tværs af rummet for at undgå det, kun for at se den gamle dame skud midt i brystet....

She was clearly dead, the old lady pierced from a nasty plasma shot. Even though she shouldn't have to end her days here. It was a fairly big shot from a heavy rifle so I would bet on there is approximately 2,4 seconds until the next shot. And I don't want to avoid a shot aimed at me..

*Giro, uden nogen pause fra da skuddet gik igennem rummet og i fuld spurgt tager han den gamle dame i den ene arm og trække hende med ned i tunnellen*


What I wouldn't give for a moment with that sniper.. Dishonored bastard, How I would like to see his body inside out and separate the body from the head..