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	=Log=		=Log=
−	<div></div>	+	<div></div><br> <br>The Classifed Report went out to those that were considered the most likely to survive the task before them. The Ideal group was requested to meet in the Lab Six area of Zypher, Inside there was a human in full military dress holding a Manlina folder.  He looks at those gathered, He didn't say a word as he waited for them to all gather his face was hard and his hair was grey and black. In the middle of the room was a photograph of a bleeding man with half of his face missing.<br> <br>Arano walked into the lab: Zephyr had sent him another job to do, only this one had a bunch of 'hush hush top secret' stuff attached to it. While he was no stranger to compartmentalization of information and other such hazards. So he got himself dressed in his uniform, applied camo-paint to dull the shine of his scales, and marched into the lab area. He knew why he was here: he was a bigass solar dragon with a massive gun - capable of doing whatever job was set before him but ultimately replaceable, an ideal merc really. On seeing somebody else in a uniform he instinctively came to attention, "Good evening sir," he stated out of old habits before finding himself a seat at the table, setting his rifle down next to him and waiting for the others to gather.<br> <br>Not long after Arano, a semi-formally dressed and somewhat large silver lion strolls into the Zephyr lab with a confident and shimmering smile upon his leonine muzzle. Perhaps not dressed very well for a potentially dangerous mission, at least he'd probably look quite well should they need to bury him in the near future. Upon his back clanks a somewhat large riot shield, more than likely scavenged somewhere out there in the wastelands. Perhaps not too great on stopping high powered rounds, it would help a bit when trying to get those pushy ferals to back off. But more curious is perhaps the feline just atop his shield and clinging to his back. Hopefully it wouldn't be too uncomfortable for the poor lady. He gives the human a short bow and soon takes a seat, placing his common looking shotgun upon his lap as he awaits his briefing. "Gentlemen," he nods.<br> <br>Cookies has her hands clinging to Dio's shoulder, feet pressed up against the riot shield as though she were riding it. She actually looks like she's kind of having fun, and that riot shield is bigger than her so she's not likely to make it budge any time soon, in fact vice versa if push came to shove. As Dio takes his bow the cat leans up a bit and offers a quick wave to the other folk. She was kind of looking forward to this, she felt like a secret agent or something, although the photo made her wince slightly. That certainly didn't bode well.<br> <br>Arimia slithers into the room, wearing her trench coat, various bits of tech able to be seen in the pockets, and a belt around her waist. Hanging from that belt is a a scabbard holding a thin, straight sword, a jian. She looks around at those gathered, then reaches into a pocket, pulling out a metal case. She pops it open and takes a hand rolled cigarette from it, bringing it to her lips, but not lighting it yet. She studies the photograph without any apparent shock or disgust. "Assuming that's a stiff, not a survivor. Or you'd have them here for us to talk to, instead of a picture to stare at."<br> <br>Run-run-run-run-LEAP! A wee figure no larger than the span of someone's hand springs up onto the table. The fairy-sized incubus scans about, a pair of goggles settled atop his head and decked out in a variety of gadgetry and gizmos aplenty. He's certainly got hoozits and whatsits gallore. From guns to performance equipment, Nutshell's decked out for whatever may come his way when he's arrived, even the grasshopper stilts on his legs to aid in moving as fast as, if not faster than, many who're twelve times or more his size. He knew why he'd been called in... he was a specialist with all things technical, proficient in fighting both within a bubble... and without a bubble. He didn't need no stinkin' thinkin' mutant powers.. he was a gadgeteer! Gandering over the photograph that was on display, the wee fellow squinted, scrutinizing the face, "Someone met the business end of something," in a piping, small voice.<br> <br>"Did they die outside of a bubble? Otherwise, I'd've thought they'd have regenerated."<br> <br>Pulling up the rear, the tiny plant walks in calmly, though a bit unsure about what she's getting into. Dressed in what resembles a robe crossed with a gilie-suit, her vined hair pulled back in a ponytail and her surprisingly large assortment of weapons, the minute flora soldier brightens noticably when she sees a few faces she recognizes. With this group she can only surmise the mission will be bloody. This is going be a great day. "Saviante here and ready sir." with this wispered comment the tiny flower salutes and tries hard to look imposing.<br> <br>The Man wastes no time in speaking, "I'm glad you all came, Time is of the essence so I will be brief. This is a classified mission, Any attempt to disseminate this information to the improper organization's will result in your imprisonment and possibly death by gullitone. Now that the that matter is spoken for I will introduce myself. I'm General White of the RSX Faction, I'm here as a liason to the Zypher coperations for this mission. This mission is critic for our shared interests so I'll get down to brass tacks. We have Reports of a nanite bubble in Redding, California. The behavior of this bubble is strange, The scouts report that its almost completely shielded from most outside eletronics. The bubble itself is said to be different than our own fairhaven bubble, The nanite saturation is much lighter, and yet everything inside that bubble seems to follow a strange rule. The soldier in the picture was taken from the bubble in this condition, one thing to note that whatever did this didn't do it from the outside...." He looks at the group, "Unlike him, you are all much more prepared for dangerous combat and unknown forces. We would like to warm you of this though, take nothing you have learned about Fairhaven to this bubble, The rules are different, powers of the scouts barely worked out there and someone is actively pulling the strings. If there are no question we would like to dispatch you as soon as possible while we still have an ideal of where the Server is. Redding is a city with a population just under 100,000 people, that can mean many many enemies so try to be careful. And off the record if they aren't sane, eliminate them with extreme prejudice. We have a helicopter on the top floor waiting for you all." He ends his report waiting for questions and spreading out the pictures of the dead soldier.<br> <br>Arano looked over the paperwork, he scoffed at the threat, "Good know RSX isn't a fan of overkill there General," he didn't know who the man was, but his initial deference vanished: not in the military anymore, so now respect has to be earned for him and he doesn't mind showing when he doesn't respect somebody... and right now he didn't respect the General, but he'll be glad to take his money, "You said whatever did this to him didn't do it from the outside, that implies something got inside the poor bastard's head somehow - will you be providing any sort of safeguards against unpleasant and/or lethal infections? Hazmats suits, perhaps some APCs that haven't been torn apart, just something to keep us from breathing in a lethal head-exploding nanite if that is what we're dealing with here?"

---

Revision as of 10:43, 28 August 2013

Participants

• Arano
• Arimia
• Cookies
• Dio
• Kilsa
• Nutshell
• Saviante

Date

28/8/2013

Log

The Classifed Report went out to those that were considered the most likely to survive the task before them. The Ideal group was requested to meet in the Lab Six area of Zypher, Inside there was a human in full military dress holding a Manlina folder. He looks at those gathered, He didn't say a word as he waited for them to all gather his face was hard and his hair was grey and black. In the middle of the room was a photograph of a bleeding man with half of his face missing.

Arano walked into the lab: Zephyr had sent him another job to do, only this one had a bunch of 'hush hush top secret' stuff attached to it. While he was no stranger to compartmentalization of information and other such hazards. So he got himself dressed in his uniform, applied camo-paint to dull the shine of his scales, and marched into the lab area. He knew why he was here: he was a bigass solar dragon with a massive gun - capable of doing whatever job was set before him but ultimately replaceable, an ideal merc really. On seeing somebody else in a uniform he instinctively came to attention, "Good evening sir," he stated out of old habits before finding himself a seat at the table, setting his rifle down next to him and waiting for the others to gather.

Not long after Arano, a semi-formally dressed and somewhat large silver lion strolls into the Zephyr lab with a confident and shimmering smile upon his leonine muzzle. Perhaps not dressed very well for a potentially dangerous mission, at least he'd probably look quite well should they need to bury him in the near future. Upon his back clanks a somewhat large riot shield, more than likely scavenged somewhere out there in the wastelands. Perhaps not too great on stopping high powered rounds, it would help a bit when trying to get those pushy ferals to back off. But more curious is perhaps the feline just atop his shield and clinging to his back. Hopefully it wouldn't be too uncomfortable for the poor lady. He gives the human a short bow and soon takes a seat, placing his common looking shotgun upon his lap as he awaits his briefing. "Gentlemen," he nods.

Cookies has her hands clinging to Dio's shoulder, feet pressed up against the riot shield as though she were riding it. She actually looks like she's kind of having fun, and that riot shield is bigger than her so she's not likely to make it budge any time soon, in fact vice versa if push came to shove. As Dio takes his bow the cat leans up a bit and offers a quick wave to the other folk. She was kind of looking forward to this, she felt like a secret agent or something, although the photo made her wince slightly. That certainly didn't bode well.

Arimia slithers into the room, wearing her trench coat, various bits of tech able to be seen in the pockets, and a belt around her waist. Hanging from that belt is a a scabbard holding a thin, straight sword, a jian. She looks around at those gathered, then reaches into a pocket, pulling out a metal case. She pops it open and takes a hand rolled cigarette from it, bringing it to her lips, but not lighting it yet. She studies the photograph without any apparent shock or disgust. "Assuming that's a stiff, not a survivor. Or you'd have them here for us to talk to, instead of a picture to stare at."

Run-run-run-run-LEAP! A wee figure no larger than the span of someone's hand springs up onto the table. The fairy-sized incubus scans about, a pair of goggles settled atop his head and decked out in a variety of gadgetry and gizmos aplenty. He's certainly got hoozits and whatsits gallore. From guns to performance equipment, Nutshell's decked out for whatever may come his way when he's arrived, even the grasshopper stilts on his legs to aid in moving as fast as, if not faster than, many who're twelve times or more his size. He knew why he'd been called in... he was a specialist with all things technical, proficient in fighting both within a bubble... and without a bubble. He didn't need no stinkin' thinkin' mutant powers.. he was a gadgeteer! Gandering over the photograph that was on display, the wee fellow squinted, scrutinizing the face, "Someone met the business end of something," in a piping, small voice.

"Did they die outside of a bubble? Otherwise, I'd've thought they'd have regenerated."

Pulling up the rear, the tiny plant walks in calmly, though a bit unsure about what she's getting into. Dressed in what resembles a robe crossed with a gilie-suit, her vined hair pulled back in a ponytail and her surprisingly large assortment of weapons, the minute flora soldier brightens noticably when she sees a few faces she recognizes. With this group she can only surmise the mission will be bloody. This is going be a great day. "Saviante here and ready sir." with this wispered comment the tiny flower salutes and tries hard to look imposing.

The Man wastes no time in speaking, "I'm glad you all came, Time is of the essence so I will be brief. This is a classified mission, Any attempt to disseminate this information to the improper organization's will result in your imprisonment and possibly death by gullitone. Now that the that matter is spoken for I will introduce myself. I'm General White of the RSX Faction, I'm here as a liason to the Zypher coperations for this mission. This mission is critic for our shared interests so I'll get down to brass tacks. We have Reports of a nanite bubble in Redding, California. The behavior of this bubble is strange, The scouts report that its almost completely shielded from most outside eletronics. The bubble itself is said to be different than our own fairhaven bubble, The nanite saturation is much lighter, and yet everything inside that bubble seems to follow a strange rule. The soldier in the picture was taken from the bubble in this condition, one thing to note that whatever did this didn't do it from the outside...." He looks at the group, "Unlike him, you are all much more prepared for dangerous combat and unknown forces. We would like to warm you of this though, take nothing you have learned about Fairhaven to this bubble, The rules are different, powers of the scouts barely worked out there and someone is actively pulling the strings. If there are no question we would like to dispatch you as soon as possible while we still have an ideal of where the Server is. Redding is a city with a population just under 100,000 people, that can mean many many enemies so try to be careful. And off the record if they aren't sane, eliminate them with extreme prejudice. We have a helicopter on the top floor waiting for you all." He ends his report waiting for questions and spreading out the pictures of the dead soldier.

Arano looked over the paperwork, he scoffed at the threat, "Good know RSX isn't a fan of overkill there General," he didn't know who the man was, but his initial deference vanished: not in the military anymore, so now respect has to be earned for him and he doesn't mind showing when he doesn't respect somebody... and right now he didn't respect the General, but he'll be glad to take his money, "You said whatever did this to him didn't do it from the outside, that implies something got inside the poor bastard's head somehow - will you be providing any sort of safeguards against unpleasant and/or lethal infections? Hazmats suits, perhaps some APCs that haven't been torn apart, just something to keep us from breathing in a lethal head-exploding nanite if that is what we're dealing with here?"