[writing] Project Chaos - Chapter One
May. 15th, 2010 02:31 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
djtenkuWord Count: 2,957
Summary: Peace. A situation. Suit up.
The day in
The reconstruction of the
It was then decided among the superiors not to acknowledge any form of new weaponry to the general public for the safety and intelligence protection.
“Or in layman’s terms, make it so simple that the average person won’t make sense of it,” one politican said.
The military had also decided to take action on notorious terrorist groups of previous history of destroying or severely damaging landmarks, embassies, committing genocide, suicide attacks, and the like, crippling and even eradicating whole networks. Critics looked down upon them saying, “It gives them one more reason to retaliate and it’s most certainly fuels the fire and fodder.”
However, the General Attorney simply stated, “It’s only for the prevention of future attacks on American soil, and for the safety of its citizens and the world itself.”
The comment left a bad taste in everyone’s mouth and fueled debates for months. It even sparked mass protests; one side saying that it was truly unjustified and nonsensical, while the other saying it was necessary. Either way, it divided the country.
“I don’t even know why we’re here! It’s Sunday!”
Shin frowned as she turned to Kento, who leaned on the lone file cabinet with a vague expression of confusion. Files were scattered on the floor and were marked by colored tabs and letters; some were stacked in the inbuilt shelves that reached up to the ceiling. “I’ve could’ve been watching the playoffs!”
“Tough,” Shin said as she opened another box filled with more files. “You’ll have to catch the highlights later on. Besides, Michael and Dr. Meeko asked for us exclusively.”
“Exclusively, eh? How come they couldn’t call for anyone else?” Kento realized he asked a fruitless question and shook his head. “Scratch that.”
“Well I couldn’t turn them down,” Shin said defensively, “especially Meeko. She’s like a grandmother!”
“But she’s only twenty-one.”
“I realize that.” She stacked the files neatly into empty space just above her head. “She just has that certain air, I guess. Y’know, wise beyond the years, always know what to do in any situation. Like a grandma.”
“If you say so.” Kento fell silent, drumming his fingers on the cabinet for a moment, until he added, “Ever notice how she and Rowan suddenly became friends?”
“And?” Shin looked up towards him and saw that sly look that only meant one thing. “Oh, quit jumping to conclusions! Just because you see them together more often doesn’t mean they’re in a relationship. I swear, you’re worse than an old hen.”
“They’re on a first name basis,” he said flatly. “You do the rest.”
Shin’s thin brows furrowed slightly. Meeko did talk about him more than usual and more cheerful whenever she saw Rowan; he’d also reciprocate it as well. Last night, she even told her that one night they were going to dinner to ‘get to know each other a little better.’
“You may be on to something,” she concluded as she stacked another set of files onto the half-empty shelf, “but don’t mention that to anyone, especially Michael. It’s bad enough we’re together; don’t want give him another reason to be full of grief when something happens to either of us.”
“He’s your uncle,” Kento pointed out as he started to pick up the remaining files from the floor. Naturally, he’s full of it. Plus, we were obvious. They’re not.”
“He manages to find out one way or another,” Shin said, sighing, “Even if he does, he’ll probably be lenient.”
“I think you mean the word ‘authoritarian’, Shin.”
She raised her brows in genuine surprise. “Where’d you get that word from?”
“I looked it up,” he said, shrugging. “Isn’t that what you said earlier?”
“Oh yeah,” she said, trailing off, grabbing the files he had picked up. “Well, that was a spur of the moment. I was quite upset, y’know. Every time I tried having a relationship or whatever, there he was giving me and whomever I had with me an interrogation and a curfew. Not to mention scaring ‘em off.”
“Well, he didn’t scare me off,” Kento proclaimed, adding laughter for good measure. “I was determined.”
“And here we are,” Shin finished as she stacked the last of the files up. “You didn’t have to deal a pact with him, did you?”
His laughter died down. He hadn’t told her all these years; he scratched his head and averted his gaze elsewhere. “Well...”
The sound of rushing footsteps distracted Shin, thus saving him the dread of answering the question. She’d definitely be pissed off if she found out.
Maria Meeko stormed in, white smock trailing her petite frame. Her brown eyes were wide and searching for a second before she blinked, gazing at the full shelves then at Kento and Shin. “Oh, thank you!” she exclaimed, clasping her hands together once. “I don’t think I would’ve been able to do it at all,” she said, gesturing to herself, and then rolling up her oversized sleeves.
“It’s alright,” Shin said, puzzled. “Were you...just running?”
Meeko looked thoughtful before answering. “Oh,” she finally said, the cheerfulness replaced by solemn. “Mr. Oni says to report to the War Room immediately; it’s an emergency. Rowan and Ziggy are already there.”
Oh great, more things to do I bet, Kento didn’t say. But something wasn’t quite right and he knew it when he first turned on the news early in the morning. “Alright, we’ll be up in a few,” he said.
Meeko nodded and left, smock trailing behind her.
“You never answered my question, Ken,” Shin said as she walked by him. “I assume that you did, but I digress...” Her voice was cool, a tone that she rarely used. Something about that tone was chilling to him and he didn’t know why.
“Don’t worry about it,” she continued,”I’ll have a chat with him later.”
-
The seventh floor – The War Room - was brightly lit from the afternoon sun, coloring the long table a loud mahogany along with the leather chairs; it painted the walls the same color, only made brighter by the golden framed paintings that decorated the walls.
Michael stood up from his seat at the head of the table as the door clicked open, almost becoming a tall column from the sun, which cast a shadow around his dark suit. He watched with a stone grey eye as the rest of Red Squad seated them selves. “Glad to see you all again,” he said, clasping his hands together.
“So, what’s the emergency?” Kento asked as he lurched forward, allowing his elbows to rest on the table. He glanced towards Rowan’s direction – sitting by Meeko – and he looked back with a dull look in his now emerald eyes. It was always unnerving to see him like that; chalk hair that further emphasized the paleness of his skin. A ghost.
“There’s been an assassination involving the president of CatagiTech in SrØkus-RejaviØ,” Michael said smoothly, sitting down, “and also involving representatives from several national and international media
earlier today- this morning to be exact. The details are sketchy right now, but there was a conference held just before the incident.”
“Was it broadcasted?” Shin asked. “I thought it was supposed to be live.”
“Yes and no. The transmission was probably wired from the cameras, satellite, then FCC headquarters so it can be filtered out while it ran; it’s live but there’s the delay. After the incident, the FCC promptly notified the Department of Defense and then us.”
“That’s just great,” Kento muttered. “Are there any survivors?”
“One,” Michael said, raising a finger. “Racre Xander, president of Grasino. He is still alive; he is taken hostage by the Black Wolves, a relatively small group. There is no demand, however, which only means he is the only one they need.”
“Wait, Mr. Xander is head of the weapons company,” Meeko interjected, “while the president of CatagiTech is the head of the electronics company. Why not take them both?”
There was a long pause, all dwelling on the words. “Oh my goodness,” she said, covering her mouth.
“I’m afraid so,” Michael said, nodding gravely. "A Project."
“Where’s this SrØkus place anyway?” Kento quiered as he rose out of his chair. “And how are we gonna get there?”
“It’s in
“That is correct,” Michael said, “so you’ll have a chance to try out the new winter gear.”
“Winter gear?” Shin asked in disbelief. “Oni, we’re not Arctic Squad. Hell, we’ve never had that type of training!”
“There’s always time for firsts, Shina,” he said with a smirk. “I think you can see where this is going.”
The majority of the specialty squads were deployed elsewhere – overseas- leaving the near-empty support squads and the newly recruited people.
“Besides, I’ve never been to
“I assume you’re going, huh?” he asked.
“There’s an old saying about assuming,” Michael said, looking at his watch. “I wish to say it, but we have no time. Report in the hangar in about thirty minutes; you might also want to bring along something to keep yourselves occupied for the next few hours. It’s going to be quite a ride.”
Red Squad saluted and filed out of the room. “Care to join them, Dr. Meeko?” Michael asked her.
“Of course!” she replied, clasping her hands together. “I’d love to go. Does this mean I can get some more hours on my creditials?”
Michael nodded and she let out a small squeak of excitement. He then turned to a short, squat man wearing a solid blue jumpsuit with ruddy auburn hair and an unkempt beard that covered his lantern jaw. His dark, sleepy eyes met Michael.
“What plane shall we take?” Zigor ‘Ziggy’ Boria asked almost in a sarcastic manner. He yawned. “There’s slim pickin’s.”
“The C5 sounds great,” Michael said thoughtfully as he cupped his chin. He chuckled when Zigor blinked slowly and added a false exasperated look.
“Sir, I may be a pilot, but don’t expect a miracle out of that old thing,” he said. “It’s not up-to-date with any inspections or technology! It really needs a major overhaul on the parts.” He turned to Meeko for agreement, but all he got was a worrisome look from her, one that read ‘don’t get him started’.
“Nonsense,” the retired general replied, offended. “That old thing has served this division well; four wars, ten conflicts, and three major disasters. In fact, I’ve shared a mission or four with it. It’s more than capable to handling a little roughing up. I remember that-“
“Alright, I get it,” Zigor said as he stood up along with Meeko. “I’ll get it ready; like I said, don’t expect a miracle from me. I’m not old-fashioned, y’know. C’mon, Meek.”
“Alright,” she said, trailing behind him as he headed for the door. Before she stepped out, she turned back towards Michael. “Should I...?”
He nodded, already knowing the question and she walked out.
-
“Ya sure you want to go?”
Rowan blinked at the question. Ever since he fessed up about his medical condition, people had been asking questions about it and became more wary of him whenever see him in a ghastly manner. Truth be told, he was tired of it. “Just because I have LD doesn’t make me a total special case, Kento,” he replied, glancing from the corner of his eye. “I can still function like a regular person.”
He gathered his effects; a couple of markers, a sketchbook, and a thick, solid white book called ‘Eulogy of a Song’ and placed them neatly in his duffle bag. “Besides, I have it under control.”
Kento shrugged as he walked further down the locker room. “If you say so.”
Rowan rolled his eyes and took out his boots, winter camoflauge – still wrapped in plastic – the grey slate tactical vest, and the metal joint pads. He tore open the plastic off of the uniform and immediately felt the heaviness of it; the color was in ‘digital form’, similar to the urban type, but significantly brighter with the colors of grey, black, and white. The vest, though it looked heavy to him, was light as a feather. So were the joint pads, but they were hardly flexible as he slipped them on. Despite the added gear being completely foreign to him, he still wore the thermal suit underneath his clothing as somewhat of a creature comfort.
He laced up his boots and checked his locker again, sight stopping on a bottle of pills; he passed them on. Those never did work. Rowan closed the locker and moved towards the adjacent weapons room, the shelves almost bare save for two sets of Bretta M9s and Glock 17s, and a lone modified Dragunov sniper rifle. So much for the M98, he thought as he pulled it from the shelf and grabbing three magazines, stuffing them into the rucksack.
Rowan traveled back to his locker and fished out a half-full box of cigarettes, a lighter, and his dogtags before walking out of the room. “I’m going,” he announced, taking out a skinny cigarette as he strolled down the hall. He wondered as he looked out into the glass window, past his reflection, viewing the city landscape. Who was that woman I saw? What did she say? It haunted him for the last two days to the point he lost sleep over it. She resembled the woman I saw a few months back in my hallucination...but what did she say though? And is she destined to kill me?
He let out a loud sigh. All these questions aren’t doing me any good. He went to fish for the lighter in his pockets but didn’t find it at all. It was at that point that the box was also gone, but he still held the stick nestled in between his fingers. There was one plausible reason. Rowan looked ahead about three feet in front of him; there stood Maria Meeko with the lighter and box in hand, looking disapprovingly. Strangely, she looked like a child in her twice oversized solid green fatigues and pinned up blonde hair, hand outstretched.
How did she do that? Without any word spoken, he handed her the remaining cigarette.
“You’ll get them back later,” Meeko said. “I guess dinner won’t be tonight, huh?”
“I guess not,” he replied.
-
Kento slipped on the eyepatch over his right now-grey eye. He did so for the last two and a half years, as it was rendered near useless by a man named Koramus, ex-Ace and rouge mercenary, and left many scars that decorated his body. It was the price for vengenace on his behalf.
He tied on the black bandanna that his brother left behind, and slicked back his ash blue hair, which almost reached his shoulders; the kanji for ‘guardian’, etched in white, laid in the center of the bandanna. He strode towards Shin, who had a look of vague surprise on her face.
“Well, don’t you look ravishing,” she said with a smile. Shin pulled her vest over her tight fitting suit and buttoned up her jacket, almost further empathizing her shape. A crystal snowflake hung loosely from her wrist; a symbol for good luck that she had given her brother a long time ago, which was returned to her by someone else. She never went anywhere without it.
She tied up her long cherry hair in a simple ponytail that left a few strands out.
“You already know what I’m gonna say,” Kento replied, returning the smile. “Anyway, we’d better hurry up. Don’t wanna keep the ol’ war horse waiting.”
“Oh, he’s not that old,” she said as they walked out of the room. “Just don’t tell him that. He’ll give you the age long speech...”
-
Outside of the eight story building, the vast field of forest began to rumble and shake; birds, unsettled, began to flee as the earth underneath the trees split and widened in a grand gesture. Mechanical workings filled the air, along with the faint aroma of oil.
The sudden droning of the blades heightened as a drab green C5 Galaxy rose into the view by a horizontal lift, creating wind sheer that bent the forest line over. The bulking cargo plane turned in place, facing East, away from the city landscape, on its twenty-eight wheels that made up the landing gear and lurched forward, powering up the four gargantous turbofan engines as it made it’s way across the runway.
Within fifty feet it caught up to speed; the wheels started to lift off the runway and eventually ascended the plane into the bright blue sky with a thunderous roar, making its presence known as it took off for
