SciFi > Breaking Dawn
October 25th 2006 22:31
Breaking Dawn
7 October 2054, 01:19
Sky Stryker #6, currently in flight over Gigopolis One.
Crone enjoyed the silence, truthfully. She liked the quiet, and in the sound proofed Sky Stryker, silence was prevalent, except for one sound. A loud, obnoxious, snore emanated from the co-pilot's chair. It had been droning out of Über's mouth for a good five minutes now, and she had been contemplating running into either air turbulence or simply bashing him with her cane. Instead, the radio crackled to life.
“TA-1 to SS-6, TA1 to SS6 come in.” Über snored a bit.
Crone tapped a key.
“SS6 here.”
“Situation has escalated. Repeat situation has escalated, a hostage has been executed.” Crone growled.
“Understood. Accelerating to maximum speed. SS6 out.”
“Über.” She said.
Über snored.
“Über” She growled.
“Hum.” He said and blinked an eye.
“We're almost there. The situation has changed.”
Über opened both eyes and turned toward her.
“Game plan is still the same. You're the anvil, I'm the hammer. The difference is that you're authorized to use killing force. Do you understand?”
Über swallowed. He took a deep breath.
“Yes ma'am. I understand.” He replied.
“Good. I'm going to program the jet to hover above the building and you can use the drop bar.”
He nodded as she stood. He followed her out of the cockpit and into the loading bay. He grabbed onto a support hook, with one massive hand, and with the other, he grasped an even larger helmet. He walked slowly, wearing an armored black suit with the name, 'Über' on a nameplate. The suit was heavy, even for him.
She opened her mouth, but he interrupted.
“Keep the helmet on. Move slowly. Don't be afraid of gunfire.” He said.
“I'm glad to see you were listening. We did do many live fire exercises, but this is also your first public appearance. Be prepared for reporters, vile little things, and many police officers. You stay at the rooftop until I call for you.”
“Yes ma'am.” He nodded.
She tapped at keys and a small airlock hatch rotated. In the intervening six months, he had watched her perform incredible feats of magic, but never did he tire of watching her. With a swoosh, the jet which was traveling at just under Mach 1 dipped, and the air suction drew her outside in to the freezing October air. As she began to fall, she chanted:Qdrt hm odzbd rtodqlzm
Her flight became more stable, and she managed to stand upright, a small dot in the blackness of the ebony night. Her white cloak barely noticeable, swallowed in the depths. Only until she began to descend over a cluster of police vehicles did it come into being.
It billowed as if it had a life of its own and dropped behind the police line as the Sky Stryker made a zigzagging motion and rotated above the target building. It made no noise at all.
The group of police officers there knew her on sight, and one stepped forward and offered her hand.
“Crone, good to see you.” He said.
“O'Malley. Keeping up the Irish cop beat still I see.” She smiled at him.
“Of course. The situation has not changed since the deadly force update. It's a hostage for drugs situation.”
“What do they want?” Crone asked.
“A kilo of zipper.” O'Malley replied.
“They took a small office building to get it. Not bright lads. Not bright at all.” Crone commented. The Sky Stryker lowered itself to about 100 feet above the rooftop of the building. Über stood on the landing plate, as the cable reeled down. His helmet was on, and he could see the swarm of vehicles around the building.
O’Malley looked at Crone. “Who's that?”
Crone smiled. “His name is Über. He's my trainee.”
O'Malley looked at her and then spoke with a condescending tone. “I thought you weren't going to take another trainee.”
“Contract's a contract. Besides, he's a good kid.” She replied. Über stepped off the landing plate and onto the roof. Over her communicator, she heard him. “I'm on the roof now. IR scanner tells me there's someone just inside the doorway to the access.”
She spoke into the wrist communicator. “Take it.”
Über took large strides over to the door, cocked his fist, and put it straight through the door and into someone's head.
“We have one down,” he said, and then forcefully opened the door.
O'Malley looked at her. “Über is right. He's a trainee?”
Crone nodded. Über spoke over the communications link.
“He's alive, but I think I broke his jaw. Not a lot of blood. He’ll need a medic. He's going to have one hell of a headache.” Über said.
“Any radio or communicator?” Crone asked.
“Yeah, a headset. Helmet says it's set to a common chat frequency. The indicator says on the side its set to 433.32”
O'Malley had been listening to this and had dialed up a communicator to the same frequency. A few taps on his command PDA and every unit in the operation could now tune in their target's communications.
Crone pointed to a lower entrance. “Give me an IR scan there.” O'Malley held out his PDA for her to read.
“Two. Evenly spaced apart. Computer has the firearms tracked as an ak-114 and a mach 43 machine pistol.” O'Malley said. He looked at her straight in the eye. “Be careful.”
“Aren't I always?” She looked back, and then tapped at her wristband. “Hammer to Anvil. Run silent, run deep.” Über did not reply, but the light at the top of the stair went out. She liked it when they did as they were told.
She intoned: H rzv sgd ehqrs rtodqlzm ehkl vgdm h vzr z bghkc
O'Malley felt, for the briefest amount of time, a soft, whispering sensation upon his cheek just after Crone faded from view. He could not suppress a small smile, and then tried to track, the now invisible, now silent Crone.
She walked through the barricade not even disrupting the holographic emitter that flashed the traditional, 'do not cross' barrier. Knowing her spell was limited, she tried the direct approach, the front door. A double glass affair slid to either side and used a motion detector. It was able to sense her presence, but as the doors locked from within, they made a clicking sound as they tried to open. This did alert the two-posted guards within, and they glared outside from beneath the front desk.
“Dumb cops, trying to rig through the door.” One said.
“We'll give them a welcome home party.” The other said, hefting his machine pistol and pulling the bolt back manually.
Crone slipped to a side door, to the right. It appeared to be some sort of service entrance and softly she tried it. It too, was locked. She looked about and then focused softly, her left hand becoming a shimmering wave of magical energy. As softly as she could, she pulled the entire door locking mechanism out of the door and its surrounding jam. It left a smoldering hole where it had been. She laid it on the ground, and softly slipped through the door. There was a stairwell to her left, going up and an open series of corridors that led around it. In front of her was an alternate entry to the foyer that had a small wire mesh window. She could see the two men, talking on headsets.
Crone withdrew an earplug from a pouch on the inner part of her costume, and programmed the frequency from the one on her communications link. She could hear them talk and communicate clearly.
“I've got no word from roof, so their entry must be there.” A voice spoke; it had a clear, military tone. “They will probably keep the front door open for negotiations. Until we seek and neutralize the top force, we are in danger of a two-pronged attack. All units keep your com units open. Numbers seven and eight go into the upper stairwell and assess Roof's status.” Two crisp, 'yes sirs' intoned.
Crone tapped at her communications link on her wrist and spoke softly on the Gteams frequency, “Über they are headed to your position. They appear to be well organized and have a military or trained background.”
“Crone, I have movement on IR. They have guns, but the suit should protect me, I have a door to my right, leading to the top floor. I'm trying to stay in a hole used for storage, but it's not big enough for me.”
Crone nodded to herself. Playing it cautious, that was Über's mentality. Despite his size and strength, Über lacked confidence in himself. He interrupted her thinking.
“They are coming up the stair. They have flashlights, and will see me.” He said. There was a rattle of gunfire, and then, a silence. Over the listening frequency Crone heard, 'Seven? Eight? Can you hear me?' She looked through the mesh screen at the two men. They were facing each other, tapping at their earpieces, wondering what had happened, gesticulating to themselves.
Crones eased open the door and slipped through. She went toward the one closest to the waiting desk and swung her oaken cudgel. Crone struck him right in the neck with a sick, snapping noise. The other one was not slow on the uptake, and managed to cry out, 'can't see!' Crone struck him down equally. She heard their com frequency speak again.
“Front one and two are down. All units consolidate on the middle level. Five and six take the East entrance; three and four take the West entrance. Two and I will remain with the hostages.”
Über spoke over the Gteams frequency:
“I'm going down.” Without a word from Crone, he pounded down the stairs, shaking them as he went. They opened up the door, and drew fire upon him. His dark suit, reinforced with a dense titanium mesh deflected a lot of the impact, and underneath, that, the ceramic disks absorbed even more. To Charlie, it felt like he was in a hailstorm. The shells bounced off his helmet, and into the stairway. Both men's eyes grew wide.
Über charged the closest one, slamming him into a wall with an unpleasant splatting sound, a smear of blood forming as he went down. He grabbed at he second man's rifle, and easily wrenched it out of his hand. As he tossed it down the stairs, the man started to run. Über growled through the helmet's headset.
“Don't even think it.” Crone had taught him that short, direct phrases, amplified by his helmet, were the best to issue commands with. The thug hesitated for just a moment and Über grabbed his hand at the wrist, twisting it, and breaking both fore bones at once.
Über, caught up into the moment, pummeled him with the other hand, until he slumped into unconsciousness. He cleared his throat and then broadcasted over the Gteams frequency. “East Entrance clear. Suit is holding up well, according to internal diagnostics, suit is holding at ninety-eight percent of integrity. When they shot at me I didn't feel much.”
Crone nodded to herself slowly. She was glad to see him taking some initiative. At fourteen, she understood being shy, but Gteams was not a place for shyness. Decisions had to be made, Über had made a good one.
She slithered up the stairwell, and with two blows of her cane, both of the other outside guards fell. She tapped on the communications link.
“Crone to Über. This side is clear. I want you to go in at this level, and use your infrared scanner to position yourself on the opposite side of a wall next to the kidnappers. Keep as quiet as you can, we should be able to do this with a relative amount of stealth.”
“Understood, Crone.” Über was quite pleased, and flipped on the IR of his helmet. Slowly he made his way through the maze of office cubicles and found a body. It was a woman. Über had never seen a dead body before, much less a woman whose brains had been scattered all over a desk. He felt his stomach churn and had to turn away.
'Keep focused.' He said to himself. 'Remember what Crone said. You can always grieve later.' He took some deep breaths.
Crone positioned herself under where she thought the kidnappers were, and she radioed Über.
“Über, are you in position.”
“Negative, Crone. I'm getting false heat signatures from computer terminals, and have to move slowly.”
She titled her head up at the ceiling and could see some sort of movement. In his suit, Charlie was extraordinarily heavy, and could not move silently. Her own invisibility spell was fading quickly, and she drew out a pinch of powder and dropped it into a cup of water from a nearby cooler. She muttered a few arcane words, and suddenly she had a scrying device. She saw Über moving about and then through a wall. The hostages were on the floor, and she was right under one of the kidnappers. She heard them talk over their communications link.
“What's that sound? Three? Four? Come in. Five, Six, report!”
Crone stood up onto a desk, and then focused, gathering energy in one of her hands. She had put herself under the kidnapper who had positioned himself in the center of the room.
“Über to Crone.” Über whispered. “I'm in position. IR says there is someone sitting in a chair against the wall. I go through it, and I've got him.” He smiled to himself.
Crone spoke into her link, “on three. One,” she said.
“Two.” Über counted.
“Three.” Crone said, and shot a bolt of magical energy straight up through the floor. It struck the man standing, alongside his inner thigh and up into his crotch. His eyes rolled and he fell over on a hostage, with her screaming. She turned as the other man stood, and Über's fists came through as he moved, knocking him forward. He struck the end of a desk with an obscene sound and crumpled to the floor in a heap. Über's helmeted head was visible through the hole he had made.
The hostages cowered, and then he spoke, “everyone okay?”
“Yeah,” one man said.
“Crone to Über.” Crone called over the link. “Report.”
“Eight hostages, all alive.” He said.
Crone saw the police start to come through the door. “Troops are on the way, Über. Head back to the roof.”
Über smiled. “Yes ma'am.” He gave everyone in the room a wave and rumbled through the debris of the office the way he came.
Crone called for the Sky Stryker, and not less than three minutes into flight, Charlie was snoring. Crone decided to let him sleep, and as she finished her mission report, she thought to herself, that perhaps she had gotten lucky a second time.
7 October 2054, 01:19
Sky Stryker #6, currently in flight over Gigopolis One.
Crone enjoyed the silence, truthfully. She liked the quiet, and in the sound proofed Sky Stryker, silence was prevalent, except for one sound. A loud, obnoxious, snore emanated from the co-pilot's chair. It had been droning out of Über's mouth for a good five minutes now, and she had been contemplating running into either air turbulence or simply bashing him with her cane. Instead, the radio crackled to life.
“TA-1 to SS-6, TA1 to SS6 come in.” Über snored a bit.
Crone tapped a key.
“Situation has escalated. Repeat situation has escalated, a hostage has been executed.” Crone growled.
“Understood. Accelerating to maximum speed. SS6 out.”
“Über.” She said.
Über snored.
“Über” She growled.
“Hum.” He said and blinked an eye.
“We're almost there. The situation has changed.”
Über opened both eyes and turned toward her.
“Game plan is still the same. You're the anvil, I'm the hammer. The difference is that you're authorized to use killing force. Do you understand?”
Über swallowed. He took a deep breath.
“Yes ma'am. I understand.” He replied.
“Good. I'm going to program the jet to hover above the building and you can use the drop bar.”
He nodded as she stood. He followed her out of the cockpit and into the loading bay. He grabbed onto a support hook, with one massive hand, and with the other, he grasped an even larger helmet. He walked slowly, wearing an armored black suit with the name, 'Über' on a nameplate. The suit was heavy, even for him.
She opened her mouth, but he interrupted.
“Keep the helmet on. Move slowly. Don't be afraid of gunfire.” He said.
“Yes ma'am.” He nodded.
She tapped at keys and a small airlock hatch rotated. In the intervening six months, he had watched her perform incredible feats of magic, but never did he tire of watching her. With a swoosh, the jet which was traveling at just under Mach 1 dipped, and the air suction drew her outside in to the freezing October air. As she began to fall, she chanted:Qdrt hm odzbd rtodqlzm
Her flight became more stable, and she managed to stand upright, a small dot in the blackness of the ebony night. Her white cloak barely noticeable, swallowed in the depths. Only until she began to descend over a cluster of police vehicles did it come into being.
It billowed as if it had a life of its own and dropped behind the police line as the Sky Stryker made a zigzagging motion and rotated above the target building. It made no noise at all.
The group of police officers there knew her on sight, and one stepped forward and offered her hand.
“Crone, good to see you.” He said.
“O'Malley. Keeping up the Irish cop beat still I see.” She smiled at him.
“Of course. The situation has not changed since the deadly force update. It's a hostage for drugs situation.”
“What do they want?” Crone asked.
“A kilo of zipper.” O'Malley replied.
“They took a small office building to get it. Not bright lads. Not bright at all.” Crone commented. The Sky Stryker lowered itself to about 100 feet above the rooftop of the building. Über stood on the landing plate, as the cable reeled down. His helmet was on, and he could see the swarm of vehicles around the building.
O’Malley looked at Crone. “Who's that?”
Crone smiled. “His name is Über. He's my trainee.”
O'Malley looked at her and then spoke with a condescending tone. “I thought you weren't going to take another trainee.”
“Contract's a contract. Besides, he's a good kid.” She replied. Über stepped off the landing plate and onto the roof. Over her communicator, she heard him. “I'm on the roof now. IR scanner tells me there's someone just inside the doorway to the access.”
She spoke into the wrist communicator. “Take it.”
Über took large strides over to the door, cocked his fist, and put it straight through the door and into someone's head.
“We have one down,” he said, and then forcefully opened the door.
O'Malley looked at her. “Über is right. He's a trainee?”
Crone nodded. Über spoke over the communications link.
“He's alive, but I think I broke his jaw. Not a lot of blood. He’ll need a medic. He's going to have one hell of a headache.” Über said.
“Any radio or communicator?” Crone asked.
“Yeah, a headset. Helmet says it's set to a common chat frequency. The indicator says on the side its set to 433.32”
O'Malley had been listening to this and had dialed up a communicator to the same frequency. A few taps on his command PDA and every unit in the operation could now tune in their target's communications.
Crone pointed to a lower entrance. “Give me an IR scan there.” O'Malley held out his PDA for her to read.
“Two. Evenly spaced apart. Computer has the firearms tracked as an ak-114 and a mach 43 machine pistol.” O'Malley said. He looked at her straight in the eye. “Be careful.”
“Aren't I always?” She looked back, and then tapped at her wristband. “Hammer to Anvil. Run silent, run deep.” Über did not reply, but the light at the top of the stair went out. She liked it when they did as they were told.
She intoned: H rzv sgd ehqrs rtodqlzm ehkl vgdm h vzr z bghkc
O'Malley felt, for the briefest amount of time, a soft, whispering sensation upon his cheek just after Crone faded from view. He could not suppress a small smile, and then tried to track, the now invisible, now silent Crone.
She walked through the barricade not even disrupting the holographic emitter that flashed the traditional, 'do not cross' barrier. Knowing her spell was limited, she tried the direct approach, the front door. A double glass affair slid to either side and used a motion detector. It was able to sense her presence, but as the doors locked from within, they made a clicking sound as they tried to open. This did alert the two-posted guards within, and they glared outside from beneath the front desk.
“Dumb cops, trying to rig through the door.” One said.
“We'll give them a welcome home party.” The other said, hefting his machine pistol and pulling the bolt back manually.
Crone slipped to a side door, to the right. It appeared to be some sort of service entrance and softly she tried it. It too, was locked. She looked about and then focused softly, her left hand becoming a shimmering wave of magical energy. As softly as she could, she pulled the entire door locking mechanism out of the door and its surrounding jam. It left a smoldering hole where it had been. She laid it on the ground, and softly slipped through the door. There was a stairwell to her left, going up and an open series of corridors that led around it. In front of her was an alternate entry to the foyer that had a small wire mesh window. She could see the two men, talking on headsets.
Crone withdrew an earplug from a pouch on the inner part of her costume, and programmed the frequency from the one on her communications link. She could hear them talk and communicate clearly.
“I've got no word from roof, so their entry must be there.” A voice spoke; it had a clear, military tone. “They will probably keep the front door open for negotiations. Until we seek and neutralize the top force, we are in danger of a two-pronged attack. All units keep your com units open. Numbers seven and eight go into the upper stairwell and assess Roof's status.” Two crisp, 'yes sirs' intoned.
Crone tapped at her communications link on her wrist and spoke softly on the Gteams frequency, “Über they are headed to your position. They appear to be well organized and have a military or trained background.”
“Crone, I have movement on IR. They have guns, but the suit should protect me, I have a door to my right, leading to the top floor. I'm trying to stay in a hole used for storage, but it's not big enough for me.”
Crone nodded to herself. Playing it cautious, that was Über's mentality. Despite his size and strength, Über lacked confidence in himself. He interrupted her thinking.
“They are coming up the stair. They have flashlights, and will see me.” He said. There was a rattle of gunfire, and then, a silence. Over the listening frequency Crone heard, 'Seven? Eight? Can you hear me?' She looked through the mesh screen at the two men. They were facing each other, tapping at their earpieces, wondering what had happened, gesticulating to themselves.
Crones eased open the door and slipped through. She went toward the one closest to the waiting desk and swung her oaken cudgel. Crone struck him right in the neck with a sick, snapping noise. The other one was not slow on the uptake, and managed to cry out, 'can't see!' Crone struck him down equally. She heard their com frequency speak again.
“Front one and two are down. All units consolidate on the middle level. Five and six take the East entrance; three and four take the West entrance. Two and I will remain with the hostages.”
Über spoke over the Gteams frequency:
“I'm going down.” Without a word from Crone, he pounded down the stairs, shaking them as he went. They opened up the door, and drew fire upon him. His dark suit, reinforced with a dense titanium mesh deflected a lot of the impact, and underneath, that, the ceramic disks absorbed even more. To Charlie, it felt like he was in a hailstorm. The shells bounced off his helmet, and into the stairway. Both men's eyes grew wide.
Über charged the closest one, slamming him into a wall with an unpleasant splatting sound, a smear of blood forming as he went down. He grabbed at he second man's rifle, and easily wrenched it out of his hand. As he tossed it down the stairs, the man started to run. Über growled through the helmet's headset.
“Don't even think it.” Crone had taught him that short, direct phrases, amplified by his helmet, were the best to issue commands with. The thug hesitated for just a moment and Über grabbed his hand at the wrist, twisting it, and breaking both fore bones at once.
Über, caught up into the moment, pummeled him with the other hand, until he slumped into unconsciousness. He cleared his throat and then broadcasted over the Gteams frequency. “East Entrance clear. Suit is holding up well, according to internal diagnostics, suit is holding at ninety-eight percent of integrity. When they shot at me I didn't feel much.”
Crone nodded to herself slowly. She was glad to see him taking some initiative. At fourteen, she understood being shy, but Gteams was not a place for shyness. Decisions had to be made, Über had made a good one.
She slithered up the stairwell, and with two blows of her cane, both of the other outside guards fell. She tapped on the communications link.
“Crone to Über. This side is clear. I want you to go in at this level, and use your infrared scanner to position yourself on the opposite side of a wall next to the kidnappers. Keep as quiet as you can, we should be able to do this with a relative amount of stealth.”
“Understood, Crone.” Über was quite pleased, and flipped on the IR of his helmet. Slowly he made his way through the maze of office cubicles and found a body. It was a woman. Über had never seen a dead body before, much less a woman whose brains had been scattered all over a desk. He felt his stomach churn and had to turn away.
'Keep focused.' He said to himself. 'Remember what Crone said. You can always grieve later.' He took some deep breaths.
Crone positioned herself under where she thought the kidnappers were, and she radioed Über.
“Über, are you in position.”
“Negative, Crone. I'm getting false heat signatures from computer terminals, and have to move slowly.”
She titled her head up at the ceiling and could see some sort of movement. In his suit, Charlie was extraordinarily heavy, and could not move silently. Her own invisibility spell was fading quickly, and she drew out a pinch of powder and dropped it into a cup of water from a nearby cooler. She muttered a few arcane words, and suddenly she had a scrying device. She saw Über moving about and then through a wall. The hostages were on the floor, and she was right under one of the kidnappers. She heard them talk over their communications link.
“What's that sound? Three? Four? Come in. Five, Six, report!”
Crone stood up onto a desk, and then focused, gathering energy in one of her hands. She had put herself under the kidnapper who had positioned himself in the center of the room.
“Über to Crone.” Über whispered. “I'm in position. IR says there is someone sitting in a chair against the wall. I go through it, and I've got him.” He smiled to himself.
Crone spoke into her link, “on three. One,” she said.
“Two.” Über counted.
“Three.” Crone said, and shot a bolt of magical energy straight up through the floor. It struck the man standing, alongside his inner thigh and up into his crotch. His eyes rolled and he fell over on a hostage, with her screaming. She turned as the other man stood, and Über's fists came through as he moved, knocking him forward. He struck the end of a desk with an obscene sound and crumpled to the floor in a heap. Über's helmeted head was visible through the hole he had made.
The hostages cowered, and then he spoke, “everyone okay?”
“Yeah,” one man said.
“Crone to Über.” Crone called over the link. “Report.”
“Eight hostages, all alive.” He said.
Crone saw the police start to come through the door. “Troops are on the way, Über. Head back to the roof.”
Über smiled. “Yes ma'am.” He gave everyone in the room a wave and rumbled through the debris of the office the way he came.
Crone called for the Sky Stryker, and not less than three minutes into flight, Charlie was snoring. Crone decided to let him sleep, and as she finished her mission report, she thought to herself, that perhaps she had gotten lucky a second time.
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