More Futurisitic Fun Than You Really Wanted, part I of V

[Jenne]

Ok, I'm setting the next damned scene (shit, this could go MOVIE if we wanted it...which reminds me of a whole OTHER site I was on that was an MW offshoot--did any of you know I was part of a Pagan television show production company, via internet, back in the day?  I'd almost forgotten myself...).

EoC, Richter, anyone else--Cainad, Semaj, Hawk and Req--if I forgot your name, I'll ask permission anyway--anyone in this thread!!!--can I incorporate your characters into the Payne + Rog + Pixie scene?  I might have to mention ops.  I can make up names, but it might blend better if I use the ones already in play.

Yes, except Susan and the cameraman (unless you want to set your scene before they were interviewing the nameless streetpeople).  Also, use 'KC' for my first person character's name.  I'd prefer a pseudonym of mine I can actually see using in meatspace.

Ah, makes sense.  I think in referring to the media, it will be in reference to scenes already on display ITT.

[Jenne]

Oh yeah, forget to mention that. You can use me if you want to Jenne. And my bit is kopyleft for anyone that wants it.

Thank you!  And...*blush*...thank you.

Absolutely. "Tom" is the only named character I created, but there's also the disaffected mental health counselor guy.

Orsome..."Tom" may come up yet...Rog has a trip "up north"...

[Cainad (dec.)]

Also:

I want everyone to consider the fact that all of this, all ten pages of it, happened in barely over 12 hours. I wrote my first installment on my iPhone, ferchrissakes; that's how strong the creative tide was.

[Jenne]

I cannot fucking write on that iPhone.  Not as coherently as I like.  Kudos, man, you gots stamina.

[President Television]

Audio record recovered from power armor of rogue Templar Angus MacLean.

"It's been about a week by my reckoning since I broke off from the rest of the Paynenites. Hard to tell without sunlight. It'll be harder still soon. Where I'm going, they don't have manholes. Heh. Where I'm going, they don't drop off power packs either."
He chuckles, and it seems to draw itself out into a hushed but horribly maniacal cackle.
A shrill, gurgling whistle can be heard.
"There ye are, bastard!"
He grunts, and the sound of metal on bone crunches out.

"Where was I? Oh, yeah. Where I'm going, it's just me, my axe, and the Nessies. And my armor, fer as long as it lasts. I know that this'll be my last dance. This is as it should be, far as I'm concerned."
There's a bit of a pause, accompanied by heavy breathing.
"Don't you worry about me. I think I like it better down here anyway. Things are simple down here, you know? It's real easy if you can handle the pressure."
Over the recording, "If You Wanna Be Dumb, You Gotta Be Tough" crackles in. He chuckles.
"First radio reception fer hours. Figures it'd be American country. But yeah, that's me. Dumb and tough. What can ye do?"
More whistles can be heard in the distance.
"You fuckin milk it for all it's worth, is what. Am I right or am I right?"
The whistles draw nearer.
"Come on, ye slimy motherfuckers. Smile fer yer daddy."
Crunches, shrieks, grunts, and snatches of radio are the only audible noises for about two minutes and thirty seconds. Then nothing but panting and huffing.

"I'm gettin too old fer this shite. But anyway, there's a reason I turned on the recorder, and a reason I'm about ter activate the distress beacon. Now, the battery's startin to die out. Just as I guessed.  But it should give me enough time to finish. Look, there's a cave down here. Big one. Crawlin with Nessies. Don't bother askin how I found it- I don't have the battery life to tell ye. All I know is it's a nest, an it's a big one. Could be the Big One. Maybe it ent, but I do know it's a fine place ter--"
The record cuts off here. The power armor was found a week later at the mouth of a narrow fissure in the sewer wall, empty. No body was found. The Templars went to a lot of trouble to recover it. The fissure appeared to be deep, and a team is being prepped to investigate as I speak.

[Requia ☣]

Transcript of Southampton audio-visual fragment 153.

A man in his late 40s to early 50s, face is on the camera, and is the one speaking.

Male voice 1*: This thing is still rolling.  Gotta tell the nessies to get better at tearing up the things snoopers carry with them.  For that matter, pass it along to everyone in the fellowship.

The man's face draws back from the camera, he's holding a long thing tool of some kind.

MV1: Easy enough to deal with it this time though.  Gather up everything for a burning.

There is a blur of motion, and the fragment ends.

*Analysis indicates there is a decent chance this is the same person as MV2 in SH147.  Face and voice are also possible matches for MV4 in SH151

[Nephew Twiddleton]

Posting so that I can come back to it when I can think straight.

[Requia ☣]

Final report from field agent Smith on operation BRIGHT WATER.

My attempts to infiltrate the fellowship have been a qualified success.  I've established that the group consists mostly of the disaffected (2 of the three people I've met are homeless, the third is an addict who has confessed to me that he hasn't made rent in 3 months).  They certainly believe they can speak to DEEP THREAT, the relationship is one with the fellowship taking orders though.

They do believe that they can speak with DEEP THREAT, but given that none of them appear to be very stable, I find it more likely that this is a delusion.  The danger should not be discounted though, even with no resources to speak of they are still fanatics.

Any questions I've asked about meeting other members, about DEEP THREAT, or about the things the fellowship does to serve DEEP THREAT have been met with the answer that I'll find out after the initiation, which is tonight as soon as it gets dark.

[Juana]

Undoubtedly going to be subjected to massive editing, but here's my small contribution to the wave of PURE AWESOME that is this thread.

Personal Journal of Carol Lawrence, former wildlife biologist

29/10/2013
Christ, I don't even know where to begin to classify those fucking beasts. These...Nessies, or whatever the fuck it is they're calling them...are off the goddamn page, or from what I can tell from the fragments I've gotten.

The blood's got this weird consistency to it, hours old and cold though it may be. Like engine oil, almost. And the limbs the servoheads bring back to me are just ungodly fucking large. They're lean and long and heavily muscled, just in the thigh. I almost want to get my hands on a torso just to see the spine. It's got to be like a whip. The servoheads have never brought me back enough of a torso to verify that, though. Or enough of a head to make any reasonable guesses from one, either. Just eyeballs and skull fragments too big to be anything I recognize.

I hear them singing, through the walls and pipes sometimes. High and eerily beautiful and horrifying because it's almost like they're singing just for you. Sirenlike, in fact. They have to know where we're located. Even if they were fucking dumb as a box of rocks - and from what I hear, they're most emphatically not - they'd put two and two together. "Oh hello, these weird things who try to kill us pop out of holes in the general vicinity of this specific location, so maybe they're from here?"
It's why I wouldn't leave base, even if I could. The only safe place is as high off the ground as you can get and that's only for now, probably. It's better to stay here, where at least I know they're not.



Jesus Christ, what did I get myself into?

[Scribbly]

Amazing thread you guys! I loved it all, so... I thought I'd take a shot.



Fragment of Minutes obtained from offices in Southampton on reclamation in 2023, an attempt seems to have been made to shred them. An unidentified substance has damaged the surviving pages.

--- know about this?

P2: No, probably not. People suspect, but nobody really wants to know.

S: Can hardly blame them.

P1: Either way, I'm telling you, we don't have the resources to deal with this. We're better equipped, sure, but we've got, what, half of the bodies those lunatics have, and--

M: Yes. We know. Don't worry, Superindendent, nobody is going to ask you to go down into the sewer yourself. Now, S. You have new intelligence, I believe?

S: Yessir. The new cameras have worked better than expected. It wasn't easy catching one, but, here. The first full scale shot of N.

P1: Jesus.

S: Exactly. I'm afraid I must also confirm that the ... infestation has spread. We have now had two confirmed sightings in London.

M: I trust the usual methods have been employed to keep it quiet?

S: Of course.

M: Good. Now, P1, P2, you say the Monks do a good job of keeping things quiet. How long do you think they can hold out?

P1: God only knows, Sir. That's why we asked you, we need (unintelligible) time (unintelligible) soldiers ---

---

This section lost to damage

---  transferred in the morning.

M: Our priorities are being shifted. It's unfortunate, but we must make sure resources are allocated properly. A skeleton force is all that is necessary here.

P1: I fucking hate London. Can hardly breathe the air in that hellhole.

S: Well, you are welcome to stay here. But in a month--

P1: I didn't join for this, you sick bastards. Maybe I'll quit, join those Monks and go down swinging!

M: And your wife? Your children? It'd be a shame if something were to happen to Alice, wouldn't it?

P1: You--

M: It's nothing personal. But now you know. You understand.

P2: Come on, mate. Lets go get a drink, you'll feel better.

M: I'm sure. I'll expect to see the transfer requests in before 9 tomorrow. Meeting adjourned, gentlemen. (laughter) We'll let the Big Society handle things here.

S: Yes, Minister.

[Remington]

DYX-3367  CLOSED MEMORANDUM                         

CLASSIFIED TOP-SECRET UNDER ORDER 233
FOR VIEWING BY JOINT CHIEFS OF STAFF AND COMMANDER IN CHIEF ONLY

SUBJECT: STATUS REPORT ON EUROPEAN BIOHAZARD INFESTATION


INTELLIGENCE REPORTS FROM WITHIN MI5 HAVE CONFIRMED THE PROGRESSING NATURE OF THE SOUTHAMPTON INFESTATION. AS OF THIS MORNING PERIMETERS A4 THROUGH B2 HAVE BEEN BREACHED, AND INSURGENT EFFORTS TO CONTAIN THE SPREAD ARE FALTERING. GROUND-PENETRATING RADAR HAS CONFIRMED THE DEVELOPMENT OF MULTIPLE LARGE CAVERNS THROUGHOUT THE SOUTHERN SEWER COMPLEX. BIOHAZARD LIFEFORMS ARE CENTERING THEIR ACTIVITIES AROUND THESE STRUCTURES, AND RECENT EXPLORATORY SORTIES SUGGEST THAT THE EXISTING TUNNEL SYSTEM IS BEING ENLARGED AND EXTENDED. SHOULD NO ACTION BE TAKEN, THE TUNNEL SYSTEM IS PROJECTED TO REACH LONDON BEFORE JUNE.

GIVEN THESE DEVELOPMENTS WE ARE RECOMMENDING AN UPGRADE TO THREAT LEVEL 1, AND THE IMMEDIATE ESTABLISHMENT OF PREVENTATIVE STRIKE CAPABILITY. IF THE SOUTHAMPTON INFESTATION FOLLOWS THE PATTERN ESTABLISHED BY THE NEW MEXICO INCIDENT OF 1969, TOTAL SUBSUMPTION OF SOUTHAMPTON AND SURROUNDING AREA WILL OCCUR WITHIN 6 WEEKS.

THE JOINT CHIEFS ARE TO BE ADVISED THAT CHEMICAL AND BIOLOGICAL AGENTS ARE LARGELY INEFFECTIVE, AND THAT NUCLEAR FORCE MAY BE NECESSARY.



US 1^ST BIOLOGICAL WARFARE COMMAND, FORT DETRICK
COMMANDER ROBERT JACKSON

[Luna]

Transcript of audio recording discovered near a Southampton storm grate.

Please, if this is found, get it to Payne.  I don't care if you think they're crazy, I don't care if you think I'M crazy, take it to the Paynites, they need to hear this.

They're getting smarter.  They're learning.

Those sounds they make...  There are patterns, meanings.  They're TALKING to each other.  Not like animals, not like just danger signals, or hunting calls, they're communicating.  Numbers, real tactics.  That's why we can't get a grip on their numbers, when we come down here, they KNOW.  Those... songs...  They're pitched to travel through the pipes, they can hear EVERYTHING.  It doesn't matter how quiet we run, if one of them sees us and gets a chance to open its maw, they ALL know.

But, listen.  That's not the big thing.

So many of these things.  Yeah, they eat the homeless, and us, we know that.  We walk right onto their dinner plates, that's no mystery.  But how the hell are they getting other people down here?  You've heard the police reports, it's not just the homeless that have started going missing.  Joggers, people out by themselves, they're not going to be able to keep a lid on it much longer. 

I saw it.  Oh, god, I saw it...

They got up to one of the grates, five of them.  They bumped it open, far enough that...  Far enough that it would work...  And one of them...  It started CRYING, Payne.  Crying like a lost little girl.  No words, but... it would break your heart.  There was a jogger, and... now there's not.

They're learning...  And I think they know I'm here.  I think they know...  They're coming, Payne...  They're...

[LMNO]

It wasn't so bad, at first.  I got laid off, sure, fine.  But there was the dole.  Then the bloody tossers cut funding.  Just like that, wouldn't ya know.  One thing leads to another, and I can't pay my rent.  So I'm out on the streets. 

Took a bit of getting used to, I can tell ya.  A bit o' panhandling, some busking if I can find a corner and some rubes without much taste in music.  I won't lie, there's more that a bit o' theft going on.  Best piece of advice I can give ya—find a spot to kip for a few minutes, and defend it to the death.  More than food, more than a nip of whisky to dull the pain, ten minutes of sleep is the best thing in the world.

Me and my mates got by all right.  Times get tough in the winter, but we make do.  I tell ya, some of these 'bums', as you may call 'em, have been a bloody sight more charitable then the wankers over at Downing Street.  They have something, you need something, and it's yours.  No questions asked.  Lately though, I've seen some changes.  Some o' the boys have been muttering 'bout this bloke Payne, saying he's got Ideas, with a capital "I", and that he's giving out food if people stick around and listen.  They say he's offering Religion.  I don't believe it.  Not me.  I seen things.  I notice things. 

Things like, you don't see too many of us vagrant-types on the streets anymore.  Things like, sometimes if you're getting out of the rain underneath the Cannon Street bridge you see... things... float by.  Things that might have been one o' your mates.  Not saying I know for sure, but I seen it.  People say gangs are doin' it, snuffing us stragglers.  People say a lot.  Some say its monsters.  Bugger that.  I know what I seen.  And you know when it all started?  Yep.  Around the time that Payne bastard started comin' round. 

Way I see it, that devious cunt lures in some hungry bugger, offs him, then uses him in one of his bleedin' cult ceremonies.  Chop 'em up, dump 'em in the sewers.  So you just stay away from those wankers.  Don't go 'round any churches, don't go out alone, stick to places you know, yeah?  Right.  I'm off.  All this talkin', I haven't been keeping tabs on my spot for the night.  Found a good one, you get some heat comin' up through vents they got in the sidewalk.  Pretty sure I saw one of 'em was loose, could probably pry it open, stay in the tunnels overnight, keep me safe from any of those Payne cultists walkin' around.

[Adios]

Ok, I'm setting the next damned scene (shit, this could go MOVIE if we wanted it...which reminds me of a whole OTHER site I was on that was an MW offshoot--did any of you know I was part of a Pagan television show production company, via internet, back in the day?  I'd almost forgotten myself...).

EoC, Richter, anyone else--Cainad, Semaj, Hawk and Req--if I forgot your name, I'll ask permission anyway--anyone in this thread!!!--can I incorporate your characters into the Payne + Rog + Pixie scene?  I might have to mention ops.  I can make up names, but it might blend better if I use the ones already in play.

You bet.

[Richter]

(Tape recording begins)

Is it on?  OK, hang on, let me light up.

:lighter clicks in the background:

Right.  My name is Captain Horatio Able.  They just call me "Tio", as in "uncle".  Everyone in my squads will tell you it's out of respect for my long service, and partly a joke on how long I've survived at this.  I've been tunnel hunting Nessies for 6 years now.  Anyone who makes it 18 month's is considered and old hand. 

It was different when we started.  The Paynenites recruited us from WMA, Rena faires, SCA, martial arts tournaments, and historical combat lectures.  Said they needed folks who knew how to move and fight in restricting armor, and specialized in hand to hand.  They had some ex military too, but the majority of those screened called it nuts and left. 

Hell, who can blame them.  It IS nuts.  Going underground in a barely tested 1st gen. servo augment suit with only swords and spear, and hunting god knows WHAT out in old tunnels?  Live in a monastery while you're doing it?

I was between jobs, and in a bad way financially, so I said yes.  Try it out, get paid for training at least, I figured.  See what it was about, and quit if it's fucked up.  I'd get housing and food in the meantime, I could move all my stuff into storage and go from there. 

Got hooked on it though.  Rock and roll a few times a week, chill out the rest of the time.  The "religious" bit wasn't too obtrusive either.  Payne, the guy playing guru, wasn't you classic cult guy.  Didn't care what we believed, really, long as we thought it over, and gave a reasonable idea a fair shake.  We talked with him a lot, and always over a pint, or smokes if we wanted them.  Barroom philosophy, but he brought it all together.  He was passionate about the mission too.  Keep the Nessies down before they can fuck everything up.  I don't know how he of all people got involved with it.  Hendricks always said he was a scientist.  Coded up something form old DNA, lost control of it, and is trying to keep it down now.  Must be rich or something too, with the hardware we get.

Anyways, that was the first few years.  21st century armor and 10th century weapons.  Then people started to get creative.  We got the high velocity compressed gas guns.  Sequentially discharging barrels that look like a porcupine studded with oil filters.  The rail guns too, firing epoxy impregnated with powdered iron, to give the magnet something to grab. 

Oh yeah, you knew conventional guns were useless right?  Could touch off the methane in the tunnels.  Sure, it MIGHT happen anyways, if a weapon hits the wall.  I remember Bronsky beheading a Ness with one swing of his favorite claymore once, only to roast himself in the suit when his blade cleared its neck and sparked off a wall.  Fucking shame.

We had the "goo gun" too.  Ever see what silly putty will do at mach 3?  Hah, the guys who wrote Geneva would think hollow points are just FINE by comparison.  One last thing about common firearms, they're too SMALL.  The Nessies, they're weird.  A 9mm might as well be a pinprick to a hippo.  Useless.  Fifty cals were getting close, if you have the time, ammo, and guts to get about 30 rounds on each Ness.  With a rifle, even a recoilless, it's a bitch.  The stuff we've got now is better.  Less thrill, having the long range option, but no complaints, I WANT my job to be boring these days.  Boring means most of my squad comes home.   

(Inaudible question)

The drugs?  Rituals?  Yeah, we have those.  It's nothing overly glorifying Payne or anything.  He doesn't want that.  The purpose of the rituals, the litanies, even adding metaphor and ceremony to maintaining our gear, it keeps us tuned in, mindful.  If you're cleaning the bolt on an M-16, and just want it done, you get messy.  Give it a quick wipe and slam it back into the upper receiver.  If you're doing it in the mindset that it is your holy duty to purge the bolt of the filth that would jam your weapon and disgrace you, and get you or your buddy killed, it sinks home more.  You take time, and work into the crannies like you should.  Not that we use M-16's, but that's the idea.

Oh yeah, the drugs.  Payne comes down and delivers them before each sortie.  Hell if I know what they are chemically.  Not amphetamine, or PCP, nobody gets the symptoms or withdrawal.  You just crash really hard when you get back, eat enough for 5 regular dudes, and sleep for 12 hours.  Shit, it's like having the supermunchies.  One moment you're just a bit peckish, next you've housed a whole pan of lasagna, and are asking after a loaf of bread to wipe the pan, and about a gallon of beer to wash it down.  All carbs, that's what you get hungry for.  Protein's kind of a sideline, and everyone who's had a turn cooking knows to load up veggies and spinach into things too.  Make sure we get some fiber and vitamins in.  Maybe some sort of synthetic adrenaline?  I hear that adrenaline puts ALL the energy producing stuff your body keeps stored into your system at once.  Sorta makes sense we have to replace it.

Some guys don't take it.  That's fine.  The ones that make it work do just fine on the juice their own brains and glands make.  There's no pressure, no expectation.  You don't want the drugs, just tell Payne before you go out.  As he's handing out the doses, he'll just pass you a saltine or something.  Makes some joke about how it will be transubs....  Trasnsabstanshee....

Fuck, however you say it.  He'll just crack that magic will make it into his caustic scottjizz by the time it hits our veins anyways.  Lightens the mood, then we all have a chant, and a moment to focus as we come up.  Break open the sally port and rock on. 

Off duty we chill out, read, work out.  We all pitch in a few hours a day to keep stuff up, if we don't have a sortie.  Chaplain of Captains can assign other duties if someone messes up, but we don't have to much.  Some of the guys play video games, write, or read on their downtime.  Others go out on the town to find girls.  Can't bring them back to the dorms though, that's the most "monastic" rule we have, so some guys keep apartments in town.  Most are around here for most of the week anyways.  It's just where things are happening.

That's the life, in a nutshell.  Any more specific questions?

(inaudible)

Cool, I gotta go talk to the armory before dinner anyways.  Good luck bud.

(recording ends)