Total War: Aftermath.

[The_JJ]

It is early spring. A great storm has worked it's way east through the Mediterrainian, chased by a flock of international flights. Diplomats and reporters head for the peace confrence on the Azores, soldiers go home. The War is over.

You on the other hand, make for the center of the Sea, the island of Malta.

Alex Barracks recieved instructions from a man claiming to be a representative of his government in exile. He spoke quickly, left quickly, and gave you a ticket to Malta.

The tatters of that same goverment came too for Daniel Durand, took him from his handlers who watched, slightly relieved, as the anoymous men escorted him to a submarine hiding beneath the Antarctic ice.

Kayn Speirs knew this wasn't a normal construction contract the moment he saw his supposed employer. An obviously military man, he sized up the 'Bomb suit' in his luggage with a single glance and then slapped a custom's clearence sticker over the lot. Maybe taking a contract in Africa wasn't such a good idea.

Felix Urd saw the ripples in the market. He knew this peace'd soon run him out of bussiness. Of all the men here, he choose this path himself. Obliquely, carefully, he advertised his willingness to participate. It had been a shock though, when they (who ever 'they' were) asked him to arrive in person. His private jet took him there.

Alexander Russo had it the easiest. THe Godfather had called him up. They'd talked for a bit. (The Godfather felt the Alex oughta have a kid one of these days.) The the Godfather had spoken of investments and assets, and then told Alexander to act in the Godfather's interest. Then he'd been handed a large breifcase to take along on the plane ride. It was full of money, but unlocked, because the Godfather trusted Russo.

Issac Dien was a big fish that was left flopping around. Someone felt him gasping, came looking for him, found him and put him on a flight.

Alex Barracks:

You land in Malta. The only interesting thing on the way over was a trio of men sitting several rows behind you. You use your glasses to run their faces through some recognition software, and pick up two of them in a government database. Nothing special, yet. The third has yet to yield a hit. A tour guide type greets you as you pick up your luggage with a neatly lettered sign reading 'Alex Barracks.' He takes you to a tall office building, points you in the direction of the lobby and leaves.

Daniel:

Your escorts take you all the way to Malta, to a van, and then hand you off to a different person. You can feel he's a psionic. He takes you to a tall office building, points you in the direction of the lobby and leaves.

Oh, and you've been having strange dreams lately.

Issac:

Someday, someone tossed a plane ticket into your hat. As you arrive in the airport, a tour guide type greets you with a neatly lettered sign 'Issac Dien.' He takes you to a tall office building, points you in the direction of the lobby and leaves.

Oh, and you've been having strange dreams lately.

Alexander:

There is a driver waiting for you at the airport. He takes you to a tall office building, points you in the direction of the lobby and leaves, though he keeps the breifcase of cash in his car.

Kayn Speirs:

You land in Morroco to do the work as expected, but you can feel people watching you every second of it. It was a condemed office building, LUSAn shell took out one of four load bearing columns. It'd been jury rigged to stability but it was time to scrap the thing and start fresh. One day, after the spectacular controlled demolition, your employer approached you with a plane ticket. "Orders from up on high," he said. The men behind him, also obviously ex-military, agreed that you should go, and walked you to the plane.

After you land, a tour guide type greets you with a neatly lettered sign 'Kayn Speirs.' He takes you to a tall office building, points you in the direction of the lobby and leaves.

Felix Urd:

A limo is waiting for you as ou step down from your jet. You tell the driver the adress you were given and he takes you to a a tall office building.

ooc:
Alright, first to post is first to the lobby. Meet and greet time.

[Greystone]

The Engineer

Kayn walked into the building and sighed in appreciation as a wave of air conditioned air hit his face. He was tall, 6'3, and wiry. He wore a black dress shirt and his nicest brown pant- he thought he should probably look good.

Frowning slightly he ran a hand through his now long blond hair. That was what you did right? You wore nice clothes for interviews like this. If anyone saw him, they would see a good looking, tall tanned man with long hair. Maybe a surfer in his off time.

Few saw Kayn and thought clone, but that was what he was. A machine bred for killing. He smiled slightly at the thought... he was pretty good at that. But, after the war, staying in the UAL had seemed like a mistake. He had signed his relief papers and never looked back...

[Tackyhillbillu]

The Academic

Alex was wearing his suit, Brown Tweed and Faded green Elbow Patches. He had half a dozen of them. They could be quite warm, but they were almost part of the uniform of his profession. The tall, slightly awkward looking man didn't look all that out of place.

He wandered into the lobby, sitting down in his chair. He checked the search of the gentleman that had been behind him, but nothing had come up yet. He sighed, and pull up a newspaper on the Glasses display, intending to read until the people who had offered him this job showed up.

[puppyavenger]

The Madman

Isaac sighs quietly as he walked into the Lobby. A posh hotel, joy, food for the low low price of a weeks work and security ready to throw out anyone who didn't look rich enough.

And if there's one thing Issac didn't look, it was rich. He was wearing a shabby coat with a few obvious patches, with a shirt and pants to match.The cap just large enough to make his face hard to make out pretty much completed that hobo image. Under that was the armor and weaponry he inherited form the war, but no-one ever remembered that.

Taking a sit in one of the corners of the lobby, he grabbed a newspaper and got ready to wait ntil whoever had given him the ticket showed up with an explanation.

[The_JJ]

Dr Andrew Price:

Of everyone here you are most dedicated to the job ahead, and probably most informed. Three weeks ago, Jacob Vaughn Jr. called you into his office. Legendary philanthropist and son of a legendary philanthropist, he quietly laid out for you the nature of the mission ahead: the world needed disarmament, and he knew a group that was willing to take part. He want's you to join them, and help.

He did, however, warn you not to trust the people who would be your commanders. You are, he says, instructed to follow your own consience and obey your responsibilities as a doctor and aid worker. Then he hands you a plane ticket to Malta (actually a layover for an aid flight to the Carribean) and a time and adress that leads you to an office building.

[cyeiser]

The Doctor

Can it be real?

Dr. Price's mind was racing as he approached the building.

Could the right people finally be taking action to stop the madness? People with power, influence, wealth?

He wasn't walking easily yet, still sore from hours spent jammed up against crates of relief supplies on the flight from Mumbai.

Usually the people who actually can make the world a better place are too busy destroying it to care.

Upon reaching the lobby he heads directly for the softest chair he can find.

But it's Jacob Vaughn, Jr. He wouldn't send me here if it weren't for real.

Dropping his backpack to the floor, Dr. Price sits down and begins to massage his neck and shoulders the best he can.

So be it. Just wish I could get out of these scrubs and take a shower. Really should have changed before the flight.

[The_JJ]

Indus
You aquisition was a simple one. Someone needed some muscle, came looking, and handed you a wad of cash with more on offer. They took you to an airstrip, from there to Malta. Now he, the pilot, and a few other passengers, are approaching an office building. They point you to the lobby, and then head around the backdoor.

[dresdor]

Brad walks into the lobby. He doesn't appear to be armed, in fact he appears as a civilian in every possible way, except for the way he looks at people and the area around him. Its as if he's evaluating everything and everyone around him. He seems satisfied with the situation as he stands still, waiting. He says nothing.

[The_JJ]

Those of you who watch the street note two cars pulling in, dropping off a single passenger, and then heading to the backside of the building. Moments later, many of the cars sent to pick you up can be seen driving away. Moments later, a group walks into the lobby from an interior door. At the fore are a man (Early fourties, tall, Caucasian, military bearing, brunette buzz, casual dress for the weather) and a women (Early thirties, short, African, military bearing, kinky black hair buzzed short, gloves and a coat over a long skirt). They join you in mismatched chairs around the lobby. They are followed by a trio. One (Deep robes, average height) stands to the left, silent. A man (twenties, average height, Indian, neat haircut, bussiness suit) stands to the right. The man in the center (Late thirties, average height, Caucasian, blonde, bussiness suit) clears his throat.

Ladies, gentlemen. You may or may not know why you are here. But you are here. No matter if you were sent, sought us out or were sought out in turn, by being here, you step over a line. His voice is oddly accented, but sounds... French. We are a careful, clandestine group. We have a specific goal and we have reason, one way or another, to believe you too support that goal.

We wish to destroy a threat to humanity. All threats. Recent years have seen both the rapid proliferation of Mass Destruction Weapons, and the failure of the doctrine of MAD as a deterent. No nation will agree to unilateral disarmament, no talks between nations for multilateral disarmament seems... likely to succeed, to say the least. Mutual disarmament must be forced upon the world, and we intend to do that.

Welcome to our little group. You, he indicates the PCs, will be our field agents. These two, he indicates the two that joined you in the chairs, who nod, will be your pilots, and part of your links to us, he gestures to his right and left, who will direct, fund, and assist your actions. We must leave now. He turns to the pilots. Do not let them stay to long here, but leave several hours apart, come the time. He and his two companions leave quickly, out a third door.

The two left in the room share a look and then stand themselves. The man speaks first, in a neutral American accent. Ahh, well. Umm... you can call me Diamond Ace, my friend here is Fallen Falcon. Uh, we each have a mission to give you and official documentation for flights out of here and to the location needed. It is up to who you follow.

The mission I have been authorised to breif you on and assist with is an expidition to a Mediterrainian Island. A research facility of unknown providence was set up there in the past year, but last report have the island flooded by zombies. No official government has yet to claim the site as their own, nor made any attempt to liberate it. However, the place does have several automated defenses that demand a small strike team. It promises a hot landing and lots of zombie shooting. It's a target of opportunity, we don't know what we may or mya not find, but if we wait to long, someone else, perhaps whoever setup the labs, might move in. He nods at his counterpart.

The woman, in slight more exotic tones, speaks quickly. I've been authorized to fly you to Paris. The UNE intelligence agencies have a few files our organizers wish taken, for reasons they refuse to specify. The op is still highly fluid, but I can provide you with the building and location within that building where the files are being held, as well as a general information dossier of the building.

Kayn Spiers:
(Early fourties, tall, Caucasian, military bearing, brunette buzz, casual dress for the weather) is also (looks a lot like certain NAC Air Force clones.) Possibly an early model?

Dr Andrew Price:
(twenties, average height, Indian, neat haircut, bussiness suit) looks vaguely familiar.

Isaac
(Deep robes, average height) Gives you deja vu. Oh, and he and (Late thirties, average height, Caucasian, blonde, bussiness suit) are both psionics of fairly high caliber. (+++ or more)

Indus
These guys were on the plane with you, and 'Diamond Ace' was the pilot on the way in.

All, OOC-:
Okay choose.

Job number one will be pretty hack-n-slash happy with bits of mystery and some survival horror action if you screw up.

Job two will be very... Ocean's Eleven and open ended. It'll be down to you to gather info on the target and then plan the heist. Or you could try walking in guns blazing, just remember that all actions in this game will have consequences. Some good, some bad.


Also: NPC's are fair game.

[dresdor]

"At least I know you can fly decently, 'Diamond.'" Brad says quietly. "And a mysterious facility with zombies of all things sounds like a fun shooting gallery. We'll need some heavy artillery, though."

Brad sizes up the others in the group, trying to figure out who he could rely on to be a decent combatant, and who would be clearly in the wrong place if put in a firefight.

"And what do you mean by automated defenses? Any specifics?"

[The_JJ]

Dead man's booby traps. Mostly SAM's that are firing at anything without the proper identification codes. The sea landing's similarly unattractive. Make's it hard to drop in with any plane larger than my good old VTOL Pelican. Max seating of ten plus baggage.