Extraordinary, Ch. 1 Pt. 1 - Deployment (790 hits)
Category: Quotes & StoriesRating: 1.47 on 24 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Leonore (View user info) at 2007-11-05 09:57:35 EST
New York City, New York, United States of America
Apartment Block 12, outside United Nations Headquarters
1 November 2009, 2:43 AM
Six phones ring simultaneously.
In apartment 602, Clio Montrose awakens almost instantly and answers hers on the first ring.
"Commander Montrose."
The automated voice on the other end speaks for precisely fourteen seconds and then disconnects. She places the handset gently back on the receiver as her husband rolls over and addresses her groggily. "Izzit work?"
She looks over him and smiles. "Yeah. Gotta get going, hon." She stands and pulls on a pair of jeans and a black tank top over her slim frame, then ties her long black hair back into a ponytail. Grabbing her effects and mobile phone, she throws on a simple blue pullover and slides her feet into well-worn sneakers. She bends over the bed and kisses him on the forehead. "I'll call you when I get back in."
"Mmkay. Careful."
"I will." And she leaves.
===
Beneath UN Headquarters, Sub-Level 11, Situation Room #2
2:59 AM
Montrose sits at the front of the room before a large projection screen, eyeing the other sleepy figures in the room. Two sets of eyes look right back at her. A third have already closed and gone back to sleep. The fourth are fixated on a laptop screen.
"Anyone see Stellan on the way in?" she asks. She is answered with three shaking heads and a light snore. She sighs and rises. "Well, we can't wait any longer. We'd better get started." She turns to the screen and, as though on cue, a fifth individual rushes in. He regards her with a sheepish grin. "Sorry I'm late, all." he apologizes. "Wicked hour, innit?"
Montrose levels her gaze at him. "That it is, Mr. Murphy, but here the rest of us wait, on time. Please endeavor to be prompt in the future." She gestures to a seat next to the dozing youngster. "If you would."
"Aye, ma'am." He obliges her and sits hurriedly, rousing his companion.
The Commander flicks her eyes to him. "Good morning, Mr. Hardin. Back with us, are you?"
He straightens and runs a hand through his shaggy brown hair. "Y-Yes, ma'am. Sorry, ma'am."
She nods to acknowledge him, then turns to address them all. "Believe me, I'd rather we'd not gotten the call this early, but certainly disaster waits for no man. As some of you have already surmised, we have an assignment. Our first assignment."
The mood in the room instantly sharpens. Everyone sits up a bit straighter and the sleep clears from their eyes. She stifles a smile. They all look like proper soldiers. She picks up a remote control for the digital projector and presses a button, pulling up a picture of a plain-looking middle-aged man. She glances at the image and back to the group. "This is Sean Johaanson. He is Canada's Minister of the Interior, he has been taken hostage, and we have been called upon to extract him." She clicks to the next slide, a map of southern region of Alberta. "Some of the Minister's latest changes to environmental policy have upset a great many people, particularly his intentions to move growing industry to several undeveloped areas. A group of eco terrorists have snatched him from his home in Ontario and moved him to a defended compound here, about seventy-five miles north of the border."
The Haitian raises his hand and Clio gestures to him. "Yes, Isaac?"
He speaks in a quiet, deep voice. "You mentioned that he's been taken as a hostage. Has the group issued any demands?"
"Yes, primarily regarding the revocation of said policies, but they have also arranged for the delivery of five million US dollars and escape vehicles. Standard fare, really." Isaac nods, and she continues, clicking to an overhead image of a large, single-story warehouse. "Satellite images of the compound indicates that they are already heavily fortified. Intel estimates two or three dozen men armed with automatic weapons, with regular patrols of the surrounding environs. We've got a passable psych profile on their leader, one Bryan Oleander." His mug shots appear on the screen. "They tell me he's desperate, but he's no fool. He's likely not above executing Johaanson if he feels cornered or ignored. Naturally, the Canadian government is doing everything they can to convince him he'll get what he wants, but they can only stall for so long before he gets suspicious. The Parliament is staging round-the-clock negotiations, but it's a smokescreen, of course. They have no intention of conceding to any demands, nor do we. The brass tells me we have about twelve hours to recover the hostage, then we're operating on borrowed time."
Isaac raises his hand again. "Are we to perform under any specific orders regarding Oleander's apprehension?"
Clio shakes her head. "Any means necessary is the official line. They just want Johaanson safe." She passes her gaze over the others. "Any other questions before I lay out our plan?" She is met with silence. "Right, then. We will be dispatched by jet to the border, where we will be provided with wheeled transport for the rest of the distance." She flicks back to the map. "We will abandon the vehicles here, about a mile from the compound, and make the approach on foot. The advance team will consist of myself, Isaac, Kristiane, Joshua, and Stellan. Ms. Rath, you will provide tech support and intel from the rear. Understood?"
The frizzy red-haired girl looks up from her laptop for the first time since the meeting began and nods once, mumbling. "No problem."
"We will infiltrate the compound, locate Johaanson, and make our way to the rendezvous point, here, where we will be extracted by jet." She hardens her tone a bit. "We are under no circumstances to attempt to wipe out this group. This is not a war, and we are not mercenaries. Let the military mop up as they wish. Is that clear?" Nods all around. "That said, our squad operates under a constant authorization to utilize lethal force, and we will be issued equipment to that effect. All right?" Another set of nods, more apprehensive now. "Very good." She takes a deep breath. "Let's suit up, then." She starts for the exit and the rest of the squad rises to follow her.
===
Beneath UN Headquarters, Sub-Level 11, Equipment Room
3:08 AM
Joshua Hardin is having trouble keeping his hands from shaking as he zips up his black flak jacket. He exhales sharply and tries to kill some of the butterflies in his stomach. The reality hits him full on when he snaps on a hip holster containing a Beretta 9mm. He nearly vomits when he picks up the MP-5 set aside for him. He understands the concept of what he needs to do, sure, but plugging paper targets and sparring with Alpha Squad was one world and actual combat was another fucking dimension. He is about to throw the firearm around his shoulders when a heavy gloved hand claps onto his neck and he nearly jumps a mile.
"Oye, youngblood," says Isaac. He whirls around to face him. The large Haitian is holding an aged Winchester lever-action rifle in his other hand and sports a disquieting grin on his face. "I've seen you out on the range. You overcompensate for the kick with the 'five too much; you're rubbish at any sort of distance with it. Take this instead. You'll be much better off." He thrusts it into Josh's chest, who takes it apprehensively.
"This is your gun?"
"One of many."
"You sure about this?"
"Just don't shoot me with it," Isaac says, still beaming. "Don't give Ms. Bauer too much to do, yeah?"
He nods dumbly and shoulders it. To his right, Stellan chuckles loudly. "Right. All she needs to do is kick ass and look fantastic."
On the other side of the lockers, a gentle French accent answers him in a friendly tone. "Flattery will get you nowhere, Mr. Murphy."
He grins. "Ah, you'll be mine one day, Kristiane."
Clio sounds off. "Let's keep it professional, everybody. Remember, we've a job to do."
Stellan grins, prepping his weapon. "Can't really figure why you can't just send me in, Commander. I could get this Johaanson fellow out on me own."
"There's too much risk," Leanne answers him. "The simple law of numbers states our odds are better with more forces."
Clio smiles. "Couldn't have put it better myself, Ms. Rath."
Joshua swallows hard and double-checks his equipment. Isaac turns to him. "Don't sweat so much, youngblood," he says, approaching him. "When you're in it, don't listen to this." He taps his head. "Or this." He pokes him gently in the chest. "Only thing you need to worry about is your gut. You already know everything you need to know: if someone's going to kill you, kill them first. Right?"
Josh nods. "Right."
"Good man."
Clio smiles to herself. "If everyone's prepped, we'd best roll out. Let's go."
===
Beneath UN Headquarters, Hangar 3
3:23 AM
Josh takes his seat between Clio and Isaac aboard the F-9 Peregrine, rifle resting between his legs and straps himself in. The Commander looks across the way to the mousy girl with her eyes still glued to her computer screen. "Anything, Leanne?"
She doesn't even look up. "I managed to locate the company that owns the warehouse. I'm in their building schematics now." She pauses. "One way in, one way out. Should be able to guide you in real time from the signals your comms give off." She indicates the small earpieces they are all wearing. "There's a fairly large basement level about the full size of the structure beneath it consisting of mostly smaller storage rooms. Logistically, that would be where they're holding the Minister."
"Show me," Clio requests, and Leanne spins the laptop neatly around to do so. Her eyes flick over the blueprints. "It looks as though if we split into two teams upon entering the basement, we'll be able to sweep it in under just a few minutes."
Leanne nods. "That would be ideal, yes."
"Then that's what we'll do. Isaac, you'll take Kristiane and Stellan. Joshua, you'll be with me."
Stellan snickers. "Heh, figures the ma wants to keep the baby close."
"Button that lip, Murphy," Clio barks. "I won't ask you again."
The Irishman rolls his eyes and the aircraft jumps and shudders to sudden life, the VTOL jets whining to a loud scream as the overhead hangar doors slide to either side. There is a single jolt and the plane is airborne. Joshua turns to Clio and yells over the din. "Why aren't we flying the whole way, ma'am?"
"We have no intel regarding the enemy's radar capabilities," she responds. "We don't want to advertise our arrival any more than we must."
He nods, mentally kicking himself for asking such an obvious question. The Peregrine leaps forward. Joshua looks to Isaac, only to find he is already fast asleep. He swallows again, but his throat is dry.
===
The United States-Canadian border, outside Alberta
5:06 AM
The Peregrine touches down nimbly and the red light on the wall switches to green. The team unfastens their safety harnesses and rise as one, gathering their equipment. They disembark in seconds and hustle twenty yards to a black unmarked Jeep into which they quickly pile. The driver, a grizzled old fellow wearing a UN uniform, wastes no time and punches the accelerator without a word the moment they are settled.
Leanne pipes up after a few minutes. "I've commandeered Satellite Nine, so I should be able to provide recon until you enter the compound." She blinks twice and furrows her brow slightly. "Looks like there aren't too many patrols right now; you could gain access in if you take out a few of them and slip in from the rear."
Stellan glances over at her. "All this tech stuff...that's your thing, then, is it?"
She adjusts her glasses on her face and keeps her eyes glued to the screen. She answers him quietly. "Yeah...that's my 'thing'."
Clio's stern voice comes from the front seat. "We'll proceed on a standard cover formation when we reach the compound. I will take point, Kristiane and Isaac, you back us up. I don't want to take any chances out there; drop anyone you see at long range until we make it inside. Leanne, make sure our ride out is prepped the moment I confirm we have Johaanson."
"Yes, ma'am."
"Remember, no heroics. We get the target, we get out. Understood?"
The rest of the team sounds off. "Yes, ma'am."
"Equipment check. Comms and weaponry."
The group sets to doing so, switching on their earpieces and fastening silencers to their firearms. The driver calls back to them. "One minute!"
Clio turns round to face them. "We do this quick and clean." She looks Joshua square in the eye. "Just remember your training and you'll all be fine. All right?"
He nods.
===
Approx. 20 miles inside Alberta
5:17 AM
Sigma Squad leaps from the halted Jeep as one. Joshua shakily unshoulders the Winchester and breaks into a run with the rest of his teammates. His nerves are on a knive's edge. His heart is slamming against his chest. His senses are sharp.
But his mouth is no longer dry.
===
[TBC.]
User Reviews
Submitted by Leonore (user info) at 2008-01-07 18:28:35 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
I'm sure this was an extremely impressive insult; was it dropped upon one of your posts?
Regardless, the impact is greatly dampened due to the copy/paste.
Meh.
Submitted by simple_catalyst (user info) at 2008-01-07 18:04:35 EST (#)
Ranking: -2
Submitted by Amorphous (user info) at 2006-02-20 01:45:07 EST (#)
Ranking: -2
You swine. You vulgar little maggot. You worthless bag of filth. As
they say in Texas. I'll bet you couldn't pour piss out of a boot with
instructions on the heel. You are a canker. A sore that won't go away.
I would rather kiss a lawyer than be seen with you.
You're a putrescent mass, a walking vomit. You are a spineless little
worm deserving nothing but the profoundest contempt. You are a jerk, a cad,
a weasel. Your life is a monument to stupidity. You are a stench, a
revulsion, a big suck on a sour lemon.
You are a bleating foal, a curdled staggering mutant dwarf smeared
richly with the effluvia and offal accompanying your alleged birth
into this world. An insensate, blinking calf, meaningful to nobody,
abandoned by the puke-drooling, giggling beasts who sired you and
then killed themselves in recognition of what they had done.
I will never get over the embarrassment of belonging to the same
species as you. You are a monster, an ogre, a malformation. I barf at the very
thought of you. You have all the appeal of a paper cut. Lepers avoid
you. You are vile, worthless, less than nothing. You are a weed, a fungus,
the dregs of this earth. And did I mention you smell?
Try to edit your responses of unnecessary material before attempting to
impress us with your insight. The evidence that you are a nincompoop
will still be available to readers, but they will be able to access it
more rapidly.
You snail-skulled little rabbit. Would that a hawk pick you up, drive
its beak into your brain, and upon finding it rancid set you loose to
fly briefly before spattering the ocean rocks with the frothy pink
shame of your ignoble blood. May you choke on the queasy, convulsing nausea
of your own trite, foolish beliefs.
You are weary, stale, flat and unprofitable. You are grimy, squalid,
nasty and profane. You are foul and disgusting. You're a fool, an ignoramus.
Monkeys look down on you. Even sheep won't have sex with you. You are
unreservedly pathetic, starved for attention, and lost in a land that
reality forgot.
And what meaning do you expect your delusional self-important
statements of unknowing, inexperienced opinion to have with us? What fantasy do
you hold that you would believe that your tiny-fisted tantrums would have
more weight than that of a leprous desert rat, spinning rabidly in a circle,
waiting for the bite of the snake?
You are a waste of flesh. You have no rhythm. You are ridiculous and
obnoxious. You are the moral equivalent of a leech. You are a living
emptiness, a meaningless void. You are sour and senile. You are a
disease, you puerile one-handed slack-jawed drooling meat slapper.
On a good day you're a half-wit. You remind me of drool. You are
deficient in all that lends character. You have the personality of wallpaper. You
are dank and filthy. You are asinine and benighted. You are the source
of all unpleasantness. You spread misery and sorrow wherever you go.
You smarmy lager lout git. You bloody woofter sod. Bugger off, pillock.
You grotty wanking oink artless base-court apple-john. You clouted
boggish foot-licking twit. You dankish clack-dish plonker. You gormless
crook-pated tosser. You churlish boil-brained clotpole ponce. You
cockered bum-bailey poofter. You craven dewberry pisshead cockup
pratting naff. You gob-kissing gleeking flap-mouthed coxcomb. You dread-bolted
fobbing beef-witted clapper-clawed flirt-gill.
You are a fiend and a coward, and you have bad breath. You are
degenerate, noxious and depraved. I feel debased just for knowing you exist. I
despise everything about you, and I wish you would go away.
I cannot believe how incredibly stupid you are. I mean rock-hard
stupid.
Dehydrated-rock-hard stupid. Stupid so stupid that it goes way beyond
the stupid we know into a whole different dimension of stupid. You are
trans-stupid stupid. Meta-stupid. Stupid collapsed on itself so far
that even the neutrons have collapsed. Stupid gotten so dense that no
intellect can escape. Singularity stupid. Blazing hot mid-day sun on
Mercury stupid. You emit more stupid in one second than our entire
galaxy emits in a year. Quasar stupid. Your writing has to be a troll.
Nothing in our universe can really be this stupid. Perhaps this is some
primordial fragment from the original big bang of stupid. Some pure
essence of a stupid so uncontaminated by anything else as to be beyond
the laws of physics that we know. I'm sorry. I can't go on. This is
an epiphany of stupid for me. After this, you may not hear from me
again for a while. I don't have enough strength left to deride your ignorant
questions and half baked comments about unimportant trivia, or any of
the rest of this drivel. Duh.
The only thing worse than your logic is your manners. I have snipped
away most of what you wrote, because, well... it didn't really say
anything. Your attempt at constructing a creative flame was pitiful.
I mean, really, stringing together a bunch of insults among a load of
babbling was hardly effective... Maybe later in life, after you have
learned to read, write, spell, and count, you will have more success.
True, these are rudimentary skills that many of us "normal" people take
for granted that everyone has an easy time of mastering. But we
sometimes forget that there are "challenged" persons in this world who find these
things more difficult. If I had known that this was your case then I
would have never read your post. It just wouldn't have been "right".
Sort of like parking in a handicap space. I wish you the best of luck
in the emotional, and social struggles that seem to be placing such a
demand on you.
P.S.:
You are hypocritical, greedy, violent, malevolent, vengeful, cowardly,
deadly, mendacious, meretricious, loathsome, despicable, belligerent,
opportunistic, barratrous, contemptible, criminal, fascistic, bigoted,
racist, sexist, avaricious, tasteless, idiotic, brain-damaged,
imbecilic,
insane, arrogant, deceitful, demented, lame, self-righteous, byzantine,
conspiratorial, satanic, fraudulent, libelous, bilious, splenetic,
spastic, ignorant, clueless, illegitimate, harmful, destructive, dumb,
evasive, double-talking, devious, revisionist, narrow, manipulative,
paternalistic, fundamentalist, dogmatic, idolatrous, unethical, cultic,
diseased, suppressive, controlling, restrictive, malignant, deceptive,
dim, crazy, weird, dystopic, stifling, uncaring, plantigrade, grim,
unsympathetic, jargon-spouting, censorious, secretive, aggressive,
mind-numbing, arassive, poisonous, flagrant, self-destructive, abusive,
socially-retarded, puerile, clueless, and generally Not Good.
_
now sated.
Submitted by lungfish (user info) at 2007-11-06 09:16:53 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
You write very similarly to someone else here.
Submitted by Berty (user info) at 2007-11-06 07:12:37 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by HurtByTheSun (user info) at 2007-11-06 07:08:48 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by His_Infernal_Majesty (user info) at 2007-11-05 22:51:15 GMT (#)
Ranking: 2
Couldn't stop reading it. Can't wait for part 2
============
With a name like that, I can already tell I'm going to want to -2 the hell out of everything you post, ever.
------------
S'true, he'd have been better off calling himself Charlie Beer-Cunt.
Submitted by HurtByTheSun (user info) at 2007-11-06 07:08:48 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by His_Infernal_Majesty (user info) at 2007-11-05 22:51:15 GMT (#)
Ranking: 2
Couldn't stop reading it. Can't wait for part 2
============
With a name like that, I can already tell I'm going to want to -2 the hell out of everything you post, ever.
Submitted by sexualchocolate1984 (user info) at 2007-11-06 06:50:48 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
This was cool, looking forward to number 2.
Submitted by orph (user info) at 2007-11-06 04:47:32 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
this is good, i'd like to read part 2
Submitted by monkeyswithguns (user info) at 2007-11-05 21:12:26 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Bookmark +2
Submitted by His_Infernal_Majesty (user info) at 2007-11-05 17:51:15 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Couldn't stop reading it. Can't wait for part 2
Submitted by Wildman (user info) at 2007-11-05 15:29:37 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
kewl
Submitted by TheUniter (user info) at 2007-11-05 14:58:46 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
Submitted by Leonore (user info) at 2007-11-05 14:43:09 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Berty - the characters will exhibit their powers in the next submission.
Orphelia - I'm a noob to Uber, not to writing. Tho' I'm not so great to be considered experienced in either.
Submitted by Wompom (user info) at 2007-11-05 14:31:20 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
This struck me as skillfully written but not entertaining.
Submitted by CaptainThorns (user info) at 2007-11-05 14:05:55 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Excellent work.
Submitted by triangle_man (user info) at 2007-11-05 13:18:27 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I have a Winchester 44 trapper
Submitted by orphelia (user info) at 2007-11-05 13:16:41 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
And who are you? 'Cos you ain't a noob!
Submitted by Paralyzed_By_Hope (user info) at 2007-11-05 12:25:13 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I usually start tuning out anything that has to do with military - not anything personal towards the military (God Bless Our Troops, Country, etc etc etc, get off my back), but writing that explains strategy usually just bores me.
That said, I was entertained and enjoyed your writing. Even if I'm not all that into the subject matter, I'll be reading the next one. Pleasure.
Submitted by Brdn_Nkd (user info) at 2007-11-05 11:41:22 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
i enjoyed this.
noob.
Submitted by ghola (user info) at 2007-11-05 11:11:43 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by Berty (user info) at 2007-11-05 10:58:52 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
What are your ideas for the characters powers?
Submitted by Leonore (user info) at 2007-11-05 10:57:13 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by Berty (user info) at 2007-11-05 10:49:41 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I dunno, I mostly just wanted to use the word 'nig-nog' for shits and giggles. I gather that a lot of the UN is made of of Indians though.
Anyway, the premise for this is awesome. You can have all sorts of intruige between the multinational force and stark moral questions being asked and each character providing their own murky answer.
===
That's the main thrust of this, yeah. I'm really excited about the direction its headed.
Submitted by Berty (user info) at 2007-11-05 10:49:41 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I dunno, I mostly just wanted to use the word 'nig-nog' for shits and giggles. I gather that a lot of the UN is made of of Indians though.
Anyway, the premise for this is awesome. You can have all sorts of intruige between the multinational force and stark moral questions being asked and each character providing their own murky answer.
Submitted by Leonore (user info) at 2007-11-05 10:38:19 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by Berty (user info) at 2007-11-05 10:36:02 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Ace and everything however in the interests of both political correctness and in providing a more accurate portrayal of what a UN task force would actually be like then I reckon you should put in more nig-nogs.
===
Isaac Silver is actually Haitian. I only mentioned it in passing, though, so no worries.
Duly noted!
Submitted by Berty (user info) at 2007-11-05 10:36:02 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Ace and everything however in the interests of both political correctness and in providing a more accurate portrayal of what a UN task force would actually be like then I reckon you should put in more nig-nogs.