Hazmat: The Delta Contagion, Role Play

The journey was long as silent, we met at an unnamed Air Force base and were transferred into trucks and were under guard the entire way. We each came from different lines of duty, marines, Rangers, heck some of us even came from the Navy, all chose because we had volenteered and had been trained at some point in the Tactical Hazmat field Division.

Technically part of the United States military though clearly part of the so call Black Book projects. We all signed confidentiality agreements before being trained, and the technology we used right down to the Hazard suits was bleedingly cutting edge. I had never seen anything like it.

We had been rounded up in the middle of what ever it was we were doing (sleeping, eating, working) and were being shipped like prisoners to where ever it was we were going.

Worst of all we were told nothing.

There were three trucks at the airfield, but they were very specific as to who got in which truck. Maybe they were taking us to different locations. Who knows.

All I knew, I was in a truck with strangers who I hardly knew or if I did know them, I didn't recognise anyone. But I had a feeling that by the end of all this, I would know them very well.

* * *

Lieutenant Loran Mirez wiped a hand through his hair, and looked around the back of the truck as he felt the suspension of said truck bounce along the road, the creaking of the joints holding the canvass over them, and sound of the engine.

He made a guess that they were travelling at roughly thirty to forty miles an hour.

The truck held seven other people, two stone faced and silent soldiers guarding them, and the 'volunteers'. The guards were seated either side of the zipped-up back end, and the only light came from a dim light bulb someone had fixed into the roof.

There was a monitor at the cab end of the compartment, but it was black.

They had all been in the truck for an hour by this point.

Chris didn't mind the silence. It was familiar to him, as was the rumbling and bouncing of the truck. He wasn't told what was going on, and he didn't ask. In a lot of ways, he didn't care. His job wasn't to ask questions, though he'd certainly voice his opinion when the time came. No...he was here because there were five people in the truck with him that would need his attention at some point. Lives are saved everyday, in many ways. Some of these folks, they probably saved lives by taking lives. Chris....he was more traditional.

An hour in, and he knew every detail, physically, of his passengers, studying their faces, making mental notes. The mental would probably come later. Spiritual...eh, he wasn't much for the spirit, but if it helped he'd use it. In the meantime, he double checked his supplies, opening up his medpack and three-checking is inventory. The suspensions on the truck weren't a problem, not for him.

Ethan sat still, or tried to, in the bouncing truck. Always moving, that was his experience. There was always a bridge to build, always fortification to set up, always something to fix or clean up. And it was always, always in the middle of nowhere. Ethan had figured his job was to turn nowhere into somewhere, whether or not anyone was expecting combat. Though normally he always had at least a little information on where he was going, this time was different. Advanced Tactical Hazard Team, huh?

The suits were new, that was for sure. Ethan had worn Hazmat suits before, done a few cleanups of his own, but the suit he was wearing now blew them all away. From what he could tell, it had superior protection from a wider variety of threats, as if the suits were designed to stand up to anything it was possible to encounter. The only thing that worried Ethan was that it seemed built to last. Whoever designed this suit, it seemed, expected it to be worn for a long, long time.

"Okay people, most of you have probably figured why you are here. I am only going to tell you what I know, and I know for some of you that won't be enough. But I assure you that I am in the dark as much as you all," Loran finally spoke, with a crisp military tone of an officer, "there has obviously been some kind of incident, and it is obviously again, very secretive in nature, or we would not have been rounded up in this fashion. I recognise some of you from training, and most of you I do not know, but I am sure where ever it is we are being taken we will be serving our country."

The soldiers guarding the sealed canvass flap; whose faces were covered by a gas-mask,that was sealed into their flack-vests, and up into their kevlar helmets, did not respond.

Rek realised quite quickly that these men were wearing Hazmat suits oriented for combat, he had worn one in the past. They offered higher protection in a combat situation, but lowered visibility due to the angle of the eye-slots (though these looked more high-tech).

The truck bumped and the suspension creaked, as the truck made a sharp right turn, and he allowed the momentum of the truck to propel him into a standing position, and he grabbed an over head rail once he reached the desired position, and glanced across the occupants of the truck.

"I am Lieutenant Loran Mirez, U.S Rangers, seventy-fifth regiment, first battalion. I don't seen anyone ranked above me, but we aren't all wearing uniform I see. So that being the case," he turned and pointed at the nearest person to him who was going through medical supplies, "you."

Chris continued to look through his kit as someone began speaking, though he kept an ear open to what was being said. Something else he could begrudgingly attribute to his father, learning to listen without looking. His arm shot up, catching the opened top of the kit during the turn as he finished counting out the supplies. He was nodding in satisfaction to himself when he heard the speaker belt out his name and rank, then say a familiar word.

"You."

Without missing a beat, he closed his kit and let it slide beside him as he stood up to face the Lieutenant with a hand whipping up in salute.

"Sir, Private First Class Christine Waller, United States Marines, Sir!" Chris belts out in classic form, his hand staying rigid against his brow as he waited further orders from his superior.

David smirked, idly pulling apart and putting together his pistol as he waited for them to reach their destination. Carlos was sat beside him, snoozing silently. David yawned, examining the rest of the passengers in the truck.

The Lieutenant returned the salute casually, and he lowered himself back into his seat. "No need to hold the salute, we are not being so formal, son. I guess they call you Chris," Rek said, his voice friendly, "else boot-camp was likely hell for you." He smiled and then motioned for the rest of the people in the truck, encouraging them to introduce themselves. "Well c'mon people, we are all in this together now."

* * *

High up above the earth, orbiting steadily, a satellite received the video and audio-stream that was coming from each of the trucks, and piped it through to it's destination.

* * *

((YOUR CHARACTERS WOULD NOT BE AWARE OF SPOILER, avoid if you do not feel you can play like you don't know anything has happened.))

With the feed being received, a man shrouded in shadow, backlit by a flood-light, stared at the screen showing views of the interiors of each of the trucks. Three of them were empty

Spoiler:
, but of the three, one seemed to have been shredded with small-arms gunfire, and several bloodied corpses littered the truck. This had no effect on the man at all

The man shifted through the two remaining views, and noticed an officer in one of the trucks was striking up a conversation with his crew.

He placed the headset which had been resting on what could be the desk, and without properly wearing the device, he listened to what was being said. He smiled, and switched between various views from different angles within the truck, bringing them all up on the screen.

The blue LED lights of the webcam positioned opposite his face reflected in his eyes.

His fingers hovered over the enter key, and he waited ready to transmit.

Chris let his hand slip down at the informal at ease. He was grateful that the Lieutenant didn't dwell too long on his moniker, though what everyone else thought he still had to wait on.

"Aye, right in one, sir," he mumbled in short reply as he sat, his natural accent slipping through now that formalities were done with. He then waited to hear from the rest of the truck.

David yawned, slipping his handgun into it's holster before standing. "Seargent David Fenta, Marine Corp. 1st Expeditionary, 1st Division, 5th regiment. This man beside me," He turned, kicking Carlos boot and raising his voice, "Is Corporal Sanchez!"

Carlos snorted, shooting up in his seat. "Gah!" He looked around, confused. "The hell, man? What'd you do that for?" He sat back, grumbling. After a moment he paused, looking up. "Drinkin' a vanilla milkshake... Does that mean somethin'?"

David shook his head dismissively, rolling his eyes. "Anyway, we're your resident sniper team. Give us a rifle and a target and we'll be your best friend forever." He lowered himself back into his seat, smirking. "That is, if Carlos can get his head out of the clouds."

Sarah had been silent through out the truck ride and hadn't wanted to draw any attention to herself but it seemed it was time for introductions so she readied herself for the usual looks and stares. "Private First Class Sarah McKnight, US Marines," Sarah says then continues to braid her red hair so it did not get in the way. Sarah was pulled away while she was sleeping so she had pink pajamas and if any of these guys gave her grief about it she would show them exactly why she was allowed to roll with the boys.

Carlos was already out of it again, snoring lightly as he lay back against the truck. David smirked, turning to Sarah as she spoke. "They didn't even give you time to get properly dressed?"

"Different time zones, I'd say," Chris replied coolly, "that and not all of us seem to sleep in full gear." He raised his medkit briefly to contrast the equipment to his attire, denim shorts, a wrinkled t-shirt, and blue slippers. He'd had to choose between clothes and equipment, and for him it was no question which took priority.

Sarah chucked, "Yeah right they just stormed in my roomand grabbed me, I almost filled them with holes if my father had not been present...I was on leave too for a little R&R." The red hair said rolling her eyes at the situation, she was still mad at her dad for letting them in her room without warning her first but for all she knew it was probably his idea.

"I am sure they'll have us in uniform soon, fortunately," Loran said in response to the Medic, as looked her deftly up and down, "they grabbed me as I was on an early morning training exercise at Hunter Airfield." Indeed, Loran was wearing a standard BDU, and light tactical vest, and had a cap hanging from it. There was a pistol is his holster, but lacking quite a lot of the equipment one would expect and could probably assume, he had been told to leave it behind, or just hadn't needed it for the exercise.

The Lieutenant kept his eyes on Sarah's face when he spoke. "So if you want to borrow my jacket," he held up a combat jacket that he had grabbed before being hauled into a chopper.

Ethan had been silent, waiting his turn for introductions. He looked up when each member spoke, building an understanding of them as best he could figure. Two of them he picked to be troublemakers, but you that kind of behavior didn't make snipers. Had to be good, then. Christine, the name alone told a story, while Private McKnight looked to be out to prove herself. With Lieutenant Mirez at the helm it seemed a fine team. If only the higher up were so forthcoming with information.

"Corporal Ethan Hayes," he stayed seated, enjoying the informality of it all. "United States Marine Corps."

David chuckled. "Looks like you're outnumbered LT. Lord knows why they would put a Ranger in charge of a bunch of Marines. No offense."

Rek cracked a grin, as he turned his head slightly, his eyes catching David's. "Rangers lead the way. Thats the Ranger motto, so what ever it is we are heading to," the lieutenant slowly lowered the jacket and slacked his grip slightly, then deliberately tossed it towards the private wearing the pink pajamas without even looking, "maybe they need a Ranger to lead you hot-headed Marines, who knows. I can tell you this though, I saw a few Navy guys get in one of the other trucks and I am pretty sure I saw at least one Air Force guy before we were shoved in here."

He glanced back to Sarah to make sure the jacket had either reached her, or the floor by her feet, before his eyes darted back to the sargeant. "I do know the Air Force guy," Rek continued, "didn't look happy to be there."

The lieutenant felt the truck slow down and could hear the sounds of the vehicle's engine bouncing back at them, as the truck turned and slowly crept forward into a definate echo.

Loran glanced around the rest of the people in the truck with him. "Last chance to say hello before the sharks get us..." it was half a joke, but given conditions the Ranger understood it wouldn't go down well.

He half paused wondering to himself, Sarah said it had probably been 'her fathers idea', her father wouldn't happen to be- he eyed her somewhat wearily.

David chuckled, leaning back at the lieutenants excellent demonstration of a corny joke. Still, anything that lightened the mood.

The way the guards by the back of the truck sat silently, holding their guns as if they might need them at a moments notice. He recognized the body language. Something had them on edge. He sighed, turning away from them and keeping it from his mind. No need to get paranoid.

He field stripped his gun one last time, making sure it was all there before he put it back together, sliding it into it's place at his hip.

The screen at on end of the cab finally lit up with the image of a silhouetted man, back lit by a flood light. Hell of a mood setter.

The light was close enough to take out much of the detail from the man's face, Rek knew how it was done.

In an almost gravelly voice the man welcomed them to no-where, "and for purposes of this conversation, you may refer to me as General Nowan (pronounced No-One)." He cleared his throat, and seemed to stare at everyone in the truck, which was quite impossible when he must have simply been looking directly at the lens of what ever camera was recording him.

"I am afraid that Lieutenant Mirez has summed up the situation perfectly, minus a few specifics of course."

Rek started at the mention of his name, and studied the man on the LCD display. "Where are we?"

"All in good time my dear fellow." General 'Nowan' replied.

Ethan glanced at the monitor lighting up the inside of the truck, looking for any amount of detail, or any scrap of information. No such luck for the screen, but the way things were going told him a few things. The man had been listening to them, probably long before the screen lit up, and unless Ethan missed his guess, he'd probably been watching, too. General "No-One" probably wasn't going to be very helpful. Still, there didn't seem to be any other way to find out.

"Sir, if I may ask, when will it be a good time?"