Hazmat: The Delta Contagion, Role Play

The mans face shifted giving the impression he was smiling. "Where you are, is on a need to know basis. And right now, you do not need to know, Corporal, not your location within the country. However while your location is secret, the truck you are in is now sitting a warehouse which is part of an abandoned goods train depot. From here supplies can be transferred via freightlift to an underground rail tunnel that will take you to the facility." General Nowan paused, awaiting further pointless queries. "Now," he began, "the facility is a research and development site working on gene altering viruses for use in the medical field."

Rek caught the half lie, medical research perhaps, but military viruses- he shuddered, continuing to watch the General.

"At eleven hundred hours, central standard time, containment breach alarms in one of the labs, in lab section 'D-7', indicated that a viral contagion had somehow been released, and the facility's central computer system placed the area in lock down. The the facility went dark a few hours later."

David leaned forward, facing the screen. "So what does this have to do with us? Why can't a civilian team handle this?"

"Because of the delicate matter of the situation a military response was deemed necessary. This is what you have all be trained for." The man looked at something off the screen for a moment and then back to the screen after giving a short nod. "Once inside, you will find your equipment and your mission orders. Do you understand?"

At that question, the truck's engine switched off, and someone exited the cab. The guards too unzipped the canvass flap, and without a word, departed. The truck shuddered several seconds later, and began lowering into an initially dimly lit lift shaft.

"Good luck."

The screen went dark, leaving Rek staring at it blankly, wondering what it was he had signed up for. "Underground research facilities, clandestine activities, the way they gathered us. I don't like it."

David smirked, stretching slightly and grunting as he heard his back pop. He stood, glad to at least be able to do so now. "This reeks of black op, if you ask me..." He turned, giving Carlos a good shove on the shoulder to wake him up.

Ethan shrugged and stood up. "Orders are orders. We'll sort this thing out eventually." He threw the tent flap aside and glanced out before moving back to his former position. He hooked a thumb outward.

"We'll know what's going on when we get there."

"Aye, no point in gettin' worked up about things as they are now," Chris agrees with a grunt, opening his pack one more time and re-examining his supplies, "a job needs doin', an' we're the ones gotta do it. Ain't the time to be talking 'bout shadows an' dust." He wished he were half as confident as he sounded. In truth, the shady nature of their apparent superior left a bad taste in his mouth.

Freight Arrival Area

Two minutes later, the lift ground to a halt with a screech and they found themselves in a large strobe-lit concrete hallway that was large enough to easily encompass the truck. In fact it was large enough for two way traffic.

Rek hopped out of the back of the truck and onto the steel-grated floor of the elevator, which rung under contact with his boots.

The light seemed to shift at his presence, and the overhead lamps illuminated. The light fixtures brightened the hallway, and made apparent that is was deserted. At the opposite end from where they were was a bright exit. The Lieutenant couldn't make it out what the room beyond was, only that it was very white.

The strobe-like scanner seemed to finish, satisfied having not found what ever it was looking for. "I'm gonna' see if the keys are still in the cab. Sargent, do what you need to do." He glanced over slightly towards David, then disappeared beyond the canvass flap.

When he reached the cab and checked the ignition, he found it bare. He then gave the cab a once over for anything useful, and found a flash-light under the seat, along with a small portable plasma torch.

He double checked for keys, and then scooped up the two thing he did find.

David nodded, turning to the group. "Alright folks. Get your gear and get ready for a walk. Looks like we're hoofing it from here."

Carlos let out a yawn, rubbing at his eyes. He stood, collecting his things and heading for the back of the truck silently. David went through the motions as well, pulling his own duffle bag from under the seat, as well as a rifle case.

Alright folks. Get your gear and get ready for a walk. Looks like we're hoofing it from here."

Chris rises up as he hears the order, having clasped shut his kit just a moment before. Without hesitation, he hops down out of the back end of the truck and hustles to the side to let the others come out. He was glad that he'd had some easy to slip on sneakers. Trudging that tunnel would probably aggravate bare feet.

Malconin exited the truck with a graceful leap and stood up straight and tall, his hat tucked under his left arm, as it had been for the entire trip. The others who had already exited turned to gaze at him as if seeing him for the first time.

He knew better though, knowing full well that some, if not all of them had taken stock of him during the ride to their location. Maybe it was his unique ability to blend in with the shadows that made them dismiss him during the introductions in the truck, or maybe they just sensed his cold nature and had already taken a dislike to him, like most of the military plebs he had worked with in the past had done. Either way, it mattered little Malconin.

No, what mattered to him was why he had been kidnapped from outside his headquarters as he had been heading home for the night and, more importantly, how on earth they had managed to get the jump on him in the first place.

He rubbed at the back of his neck, feeling what seemed like a small insect bite, but was in fact the result of a tranquilizer dart. I guess that'd do it , he mused. He wondered which of his military 'friends' had wished him along on this job...whatever it was. It was unlike any that he could think of to acquire his services in such an abrupt manner.

He hadn't even had a chance to change out of his uniform and gear, though, in hindsight, it would appear that was going to be for the better. He absentmindedly rubbed the LP53 Air Pistol tucked into his belt behind his right hip. It was his good luck charm, and for some reason he had the feeling he might just need it.

The others continued to stare at him, and it was making him just uncomfortable enough to finally break his silence and introduce himself.

"Malconin, no rank. My friends call me Orion...you can call me Malconin."

Chris gave a grunt and a nod to Malconin as he finally introduced himself. The medic had noticed the man during his initial scan of the truck, and let his silence go without note. The man was in decent physical shape, and that was Chris's primary concern. Whether they'd be able to hit a pub for a pint when it was all said and done...eh, that could be figured a later time.

"Fun name," was all else he said before looking back out towards the tunnel.

Loran slowly walked back along the opposite side of the truck, looking for the radio-receiver for the obvious satellite feel they'd received from the good 'General'. Not seeing anything too obvious in the diffused lighting, he rounded the corner of the back-end of the truck and came to a decided halt, watching the 'team' gather.

He took note of the guy dressed in the all-black kit for a second time. Now that they had more light he could see the uniform clearly, including the logo on the shoulder, which he recognised as an Orion security patch. The U.S. Rangers' lieutenant had heard the man speak before rounding the truck, and half smiled at the mans back. He knew of Orion security, they held some major bids with the military and civilian operations globally, and were one of the most sought after private security firms in the world.

He waved David over while, still staring at the Orion man. "Your name is familiar, you wouldn't be the Malconin?"

Malconin looked the Lieutenant up and down as one corner of his mouth twitched upwards, the closest he ever came to smiling, something that only happened when he was about to be sarcastic.

"No," he replied with a snort. "Someone else named Malconin just happens to be wearing my company's attire and likes to dabble in black ops missions every now and then!"

He could see the Lieutenant was about to respond and interjected quickly, "Ask a stupid question, my friend, then expect to receive a stupid answer."

He began to turn away, but stopped as something registered in his mind. "But enough about me. Tell me Lieutenant, how does a Pom end up a US Ranger?" He paused, "That is a Pommy accent I detect in there somewhere, yes?"

"Well you clearly aren't here of your own choice, so you can't be much of a black ops operative." Rek shot back after the 'stupid answer' quip, aware Malconin dabbled in light mercenary work; in particular, the shady natured kind. He quickly followed with a query, almost disinterestedly; "Pommy?"

He had an idea about what it meant but had never heard anyone referred to them being one, but the lieutenant practically waved the answer away before it had been given turning to David.

"Sargent," he said quietly, "I want two volenteers to take point. If they don't volenteer, you volenteer them." He finished the order, then added, "I am going to be relying on you, Dave. Make it happen."

After a time had passed, the girl finally moved to her feet and turned from the truck. As she reached the edge to exit, her opened right palm slapped the side as she leaped from it as if an acknowledgment of it being there. The girl had turned back to face the truck as she smiled. "Thank you for talking to me... It's nice to know that someone here agrees with me." The girls hand pets up the inside wall of the truck before she turns from it. "Don't worry, I'll make sure I talk to them about their maintenance on you. Goodbye friend. I hope we'll see each other again, soon." Finally, away from the truck, the girl began a light jog.

The girl seems to sport parts of a whole uniform. She wears camouflage cargo pants, desert camo. Her boots are dirtied, a brown appearing to have dust and dirt ground into them. Her pants hold many things. On her right hip, a cleaned USP .45 Pistol... Loaded. A laptop is strapped to the back left side of her hip. It is smaller then most, meant for compact space. There are a few straps containing what appears to be vials of some liquid. On the other side, her left thigh, a combat knife with a firm grip is sheathed. Over her torso, she wore a black top, sleeveless and lightly torn. The messy manner at which she wears it reveals a bit about her personality. There are several distinct cuts along her left shoulder. Her knuckles are bruised and cut, indicating excessive use of them for physical means; unacknowledged between punishment and training. Her uneven dark hair is pulled back into a ponytail which gives off the appearance of a dark flame. Intentional or not, a bit of style thrown in.

She quickly runs to catch up with the male, Chris. Coming to a quick walk as she steps next to him. She does not wait to hear him, should he wish words with her. "You are a medic, someone who deals in medicine and its distribution to a person?" The girl stares him down, her eyes appear to be opened as far as her skull can allow them without releasing. This gives her a look... as if she is not all there. She awaits his acknowledgment of his station. While she does, her left hand trembles a little. Fidgeting, her fingers stroke the grip over her combat knife tucked away on her left hip.

This one, Chris thought as he suddenly finds himself in company with another female soldier, standing closer than necessary and clearly giving off a vibe of "Lights on, screaming psycho home", I was hoping she wasn't as crazy as she looked. His grip tightened around the pack in his right hand as he notices her hand going to the combat knife at her hip.

Settle, Chris, the medic thinks to himself, taking a breath, No sudden movements about folks like this.

"Aye," he finally replies to the girl, "that'd be about the textbook definition of the job. Didn't catch your name during roll call," he adds, unsure how comfortable he is about discussing medicine with the crazy lady, "so what'm I callin' ya?"

The girls eyes remain opened wide as they glance back from him, toward the wall, then toward the ground. The full weight of her glance digs deep into whatever she stares at, as if piercing each glance into the very depths of her target. Her eyes quickly shoot back to he who is talking.

"I imagine you would call me Alea, that is my name." She stops for a second in her words as she thinks, her eyes tremble as they continue staring harshly at him. "Or Staff Sergeant." After she finishes wording her rank, her right hand grasps onto one of the vials which is suited in with a needle and a pressurized button on the opposing side, a strange style of syringe. Her hand pulls the needle equipped object up and she points it toward him closely-- easily invading his personal space as if having meant to stab him.

"They told me to talk to you. That I couldn't do this myself." Alea takes step by step in an even motion, as if having told herself to walk in a straight line constantly. Her lips move as each thought enters her mind, words of another coming from her mouth. "You need to shoot me so I don't stab you. That's what they told me to say." Her eyes finally close and the feeling of her piercing glare would fade with it. "It makes the voices go away."

Loran turned to the group that for the most part, had all assembled and were beginning to head towards the bight end of the tunnel. He was instep a short distance behind Alea, and heard the majority of what was said. The way she trembled when her hand brushed against her combat blade- why had command assigned a phychopath to the unit, he wondered.

He came up behind her and placed his hand almost lightly on her shoulder as she 'offered' the injection device to the Irish-man, and he spoke stating her rank in a low, almost threatening manner, "staff sargent?"

David nodded, tugging his rifle bag a bit higher on his shoulder. "Sure thing LT. I've got you covered." He turned, facing the assembled group behind the truck. He gave one last glance over them, taking in all their faces.

"Alright boys and girls, check your gear and make sure you aren't forgetting anything. I need two people on point. Any volunteers?"

Alea's arm hid her mouth from Loran and instead only the sight of her eyes opening fully again as they quickly glare at him with a sudden sight of danger. Her pupils seemed to shrink as her eyes remain enlarged. Quickly, her left hand grabs onto her combat knifes grip and she turns her body more to face him as the blade of the knife slides out far enough to be seen. Because of her step, his hand would be pulled down from her shoulder and more toward her elbow as the needle becomes directed at him inadvertantly because of his positioning. Her eyes glare and her teeth slightly parted as a light growl escapes her mouth. Her eyes tremble with the sounds going through her...

He's trying to tie you down!
Kill him!
Kill him!
Kill him!
He's like the others!
I'll kill you!

Suddenly she lets out a slight gasping scream as she tries to pull back away from him, desperately. All of this out of a sudden reacting fear to being grabbed.