Sevevill wrote:[Codename] Crowblade, Off the Southwestern Coast of Rudony:The stars were brilliant tonight.
That in itself was a given. With no other source of light out, the entire hemisphere above and below them sparkled with the otherworldly jewels or their shimmering reflections. In fact, so surrounding were the stars that Agent Crowblade could almost convince himself that they were not on earth at all, but standing atop a spaceship as it travelled through the inky blackness of the heavens.
But of course, this reverie could not last. There was work to be done. Turning to the small part of their nuclear submarine which had peeked above the water, Crowblade returned to the crew and agents busy assembling equipment for the next stage of their mission. By the light of the stars alone, the long steel tubes were being brought up from inside their submarine and snapped together. They had some technical name, no doubt, but everyone was simply referring to the things as manned torpedoes. Each torpedo would be as long as a family van and wide around as one of its tires, and would carry two or three agents to the Rudon mainland.
It took only a couple hours for the sub’s crew to assemble their transports. In that time, Crowblade had little opportunity to appreciate the view as he and the other eight agents were pressed into their suffocating dive suits and run through one exhaustive safety check after another. It would not do for one of them to suddenly suffer a breathing failure at twenty metres below the surface.
But at length they were ready. The Atlas agents boarded their craft and pushed off without so much as a call of farewell or good luck. They would travel on the surface in silence, then dip into the inky darkness on their final approach. After ditching their torpedoes and changing into less conspicuous attire (which would consist of military hazmat suits), they would be on their own to reach the local safehouse (or really any safe place) and plan how to accomplish their mission from there.
(Post by
Green Union)
[Codename] Crowblade, Southwestern Rudony:The safehouse was nothing to write home about, but it had done its job. With so many having fled, it was simple work to acquire this dark basement apartment in an almost empty part of town. And it had taken just a few days, running missions from this secluded hiding hole, for their efforts to bear fruit.
Rays from their singular penlight fractured off the tiny glass vial in Agent Steel’s hand, illuminating the thin film of pink residue that had been the purpose of their mission.
An almost microscopic sample of fungal-infected blood and tissue, enough for the bigger brains back in Sevevill to study and toy with, was a beautiful sight. But there would be no celebratory champagne this time, with discretion dictating they remain as clandestine as possible. And anyway, it would be hard to enjoy anything within their self-contained pressure suits which had to stay on 90% of the time.
“Blackadder,” Agent Steel almost inaudibly signed, “you’re sure you covered our tracks with the donor?”
“The body we took it from was incinerated at the Allanean clinic. There’s no chance of someone tracking us through her.”
“Good.” Steel slid their precious vial into the foam of its travel case, carefully keying in temperature and humidity settings before closing the lid tight. “We’ll get some sleep, then leave around 04:00. Pull down everything we set up as we go, and be down by the coast with darkness to spare.”
But it did not go like that.
Just then, there was a hefty hammering at the door. By the thin streak of light, all nine agents went instinctively for their rifles.
One flicked open a dim phone screen, barely illuminating the steel respirator and sparkling vision windows which gave his face a demonic appearance. “The button cams are all obstructed. I can’t see anything outside.”
Agent Blackadder slipped a magazine into his rifle, lowing the bolt silently as he crept to the door. Steel pressed the plastic case into Crowblade’s hands.
“Take the back entrance,” he hissed, “get to the LZ. We’ll deal with whatever it is and buy you some time.”
Blackadder was now staring intently through the peephole. “It’s . . . a woman. Looks like another haz-mat tec-”
Then the door exploded. Chunks of wood and Blackadder’s body flew through the room. The agents opened fire.
“GO!” Steel demanded, and Crowblade did.
(Post by
Green Union)