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> Operation XII: Homeworld
Bounty Hunter: Sam Grisham
post Jul 21 2007, 12:36 PM
Post #76



Bounty Hunter
Rank: MechWarrior



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Joined: 2-January 06
Member No.: 34





Small rays of blazing sunlight cracked through the grey clouds as the large swinging doors of the Governor’s Embassy closed behind us.

The usual loud hustle and bustle of the Gellen streets seemed to quieten down. The noises were still there, however, to my ears, nothing could be heard. The sudden realisation of my - her- five year struggle coming to an end had astounded me.

With our mission complete, it meant that Charles would take his rightful seat as Crayven’s leader and that Saxon would be done away with for good. But most importantly, for me that at least, was that Emily could finally receive the experimental treatment I had stolen from Major Canio. It meant that there was a chance of a cure for Risikin’s disease.

Relief - REAL relief - washed over me for the first time in five years. I was so happy I could have cried.

It wasn’t until I had received a hearty slap on the back from Charles, that I realised I wasn’t dreaming.

“You did good, Grisham.” the Elder Maxwell said with a joyous tone.

“So did you, Charles.” I replied, sharing the exact same tone as he did.

Suddenly everything was as quiet as it had been for that one special moment. Hover vehicles roared by as their engines created enough energy to propel themselves. Pedestrians in their business suits walked and talked, putting the inner sphere to rights and finalising important business notes as they made their way to lunch.

Lunch… that word certainly struck a cord. Though I was over excited with our meeting with the governor, my stomach roared something fierce. As I looked around, I spotted a lone hotdog stand. The sensational smell quickly reached my nose. My stomach grumbled in approval.

“I don’t know about you, but I could certainly go for a hotdog about now…” I muttered to Charles, being careful not to drool over myself. Maxwell frowned.

“Hotdogs? Sam, do I look like someone who takes himself out to a ’fast food joint’ every week? Do I look like someone who buys a bucket of chicken and sits in front of the holo screen with a bottle of beer, enjoying ’the big game’? No thank you! I know an Italian restaurant not too far from here…” he said, initially rejecting my offer. I had forgotten I was in the presence of a man who had wined and dined at some of the most sensational restaurants the Inner Sphere could provide.

“What, that place?” I said, pointing at ‘Ruggeri’s Fine Italiana’, who’s queue had reached onto the streets with at least fifty hungry customers.

Maxwell frowned further more…

“Two regular hotdogs - both with everything!” I exclaimed as Maxwell looked away embarrassingly. My guess was he didn’t want to see his food being prepared in case he saw something he didn’t agree with.

The hotdog stand was located in front of a news agents. The tabloids it was running across it’s windows read caught my eye.

“Ex-Crayven head arrested!” one read. “Detained! Charles Maxwell arrested on charges of illegally entering Gellen!” read another.

Maxwell raced across to pick a copy of the one of the papers.

“Well… Saxon might have been a smart bastard erasing me, but we certainly tricked him!” Maxwell gleamed as he read into a small article that mentioned our earlier ‘arrest’. I chuckled and thought about the events that had unfolded earlier. Had I not been able to get in contact with Terry earlier, we probably would have been killed.

“Order’s up!” the large greasy man said as he handed me ‘two regular hotdogs with everything on them’. I handed Charles his as he begrudgingly folded his newspaper under his arm. I immediately began to devour the much appreciated hotdog, taking only a moment to savour it’s rich flavour. It was fast food alright, but it certainly hit the spot.

Charles began to study his, unsure of what to make of meal.

“Hay…” I began before swallowing a mouthful of food. “… it cant be worse than anything that comes out of the auto vendor, right?”

With that logic in his mind, Charles took a small bite. He nodded slightly. Whether that meant the food was ‘okay’ or ’no worse than the auto vendor’, I wasn’t sure.

The clouds above blocked the sun and a rumble of thunder could be heard.

“Guess we cant have it both ways…” I said to myself, acknowledging that I couldn’t very well have perfect weather to perfect news. The clouds began to spit and I soon realised that we would have to eat our food quickly and find a taxi before it was too late. Pedestrians around myself and Charles began to open their umbrellas, and it wasn’t long before Charles began to grumble. Having left his umbrella behind, Charles and I both knew a soaking was due.

It wasn’t long before the spitting changed into a light shower of rain.

“Right, lets get a move on, I don’t want to be…” Charles stopped dead. His newspaper fell to the gutter. I looked at him curiously as he looked past me. I spun around, catching a glimpse of someone I hadn’t expected to see so soon.

“Sam!” Terry Irons, my friend and contact who had not long saved us, staggered out of the near by ally way, clutching his bloodied chest. Pedestrians gasped and cleared themselves of his path as he crumbled to the floor. We both raced towards our fallen comrade.

“Terry!” I cried as I held him in my arms. Blood poured from a chest shot wound as I desperately tried to put as much pressure on it as possible. “What the hell happened?!”

“Saxon…” he coughed. “… Saxon knows what has happened!”

“What do you mean?!” Charles cried, an expression of horror spreading across his face.

“H-He knew that y-you were coming… he set us all up!” Terry began to cough violently, bringing up blood. “THE DRIVER!”

“Who?! What driver?”

“The driver--” he sputtered. My mind raced back to the moment Terry pulled his stunt.

“The driver who took all of us to the embassy?! Your driver?!”

“YES!” he cried in pain. “HE’S WORKING FOR Saxon!”

Suddenly everything fell into place. I could the driver's remember his smile from earlier. As we drove in the car, I remember catching a glimpse of his ice cold blue eyes and the wide, Cheshire cat grin he pulled. His thick, black moustache that tried to cover his harelip made his smile stick out even more. I didn’t think anything of it until this very moment. He was TOO happy about taking us to safety. All I could see in my mind was that disgustingly joyous slits that where his eyes and that thick, evil grin that spread over his face.

“Where is he?” I growled, eager for revenge.

“I don’t know-- I don’t know…” Terry eyes were wild with pain and fear. He was dieing. “… he’s on a roof top… with a sniper rifle… some where…”

The clouds gave way to the heavens. A bang of thunder filled my ears as the god’s above themselves cried.

“Sam…” Terry’s words were fast becoming his final ones. He grabbed my shirt and pulled himself closer to my ear.

“Terry…” I swallowed hard, fighting back emotions.

“The roof tops... watch the roofs--”

Another bang - this time it was no thunder. The small crowd of pedestrians began to clamber over themselves and run in panic. Terry wore a dead expression as a final bullet, seemingly from nowhere, had smashed into his skull, ending his life.

“TERRY!”

“SAM! LET’S GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE!” Charles grabbed my collar, dragging me off and away from Terry.

“TERRY!!” I cried a second time.

The rain on my face hid the tears that poured from my eyes.


**Thanks Ben! Most appreciated!**

This post has been edited by Commodore Benjamin Maxwell: Jun 1 2019, 11:06 AM
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Commodore Benjamin Maxwell
post Jul 21 2007, 10:03 PM
Post #77



LEGIONNAIRES Founder
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From: Tau Ceti IV
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Meanwhile...

The last of the ferrosteel leviathans - a Kodiak bearing the crest of the Crayven Corporation, toppled to the ground, consuming itself in a hellish fusion eruption as its reactor breached. As several tons of dirt were blasted into oblivion by the catastrophic outpouring of energy, I let go of my Daishi's joystick controls, and sagged back in the command chair, breathing a heavy sigh of relief. My exhale sounded raspy and weak, a savage tickle in my lungs causing me to cough violently even before the outbound breath had exited completely. It took several loud, pronounced clearings of my throat before I could breathe comfortably again, and even at that, each breath of air came with great effort.

Removing an autoinjector from my field bag, I ripped off its protective cap and jammed the needle into my thigh. As the syringe pierced my flesh, I depressed a small, rugged button inset into the device. A loud hiss heralded the surge of chemicals being released into my body, and I tensed slightly as the cold fluid contained within the dosing container hit my bloodstream. In short order, the chemically-induced illusion of comfort, which I had come to depend on to get me through the day, manifested itself within my brain, deadening my senses and convincing me, in only the way a master salesman could, that everything was fine and nothing whatsoever was amiss.


Rissikin's be damned...

I slapped open a channel to the Dauntless.

"Castle Lead to Field Operations - sitrep, please."

The voice of Sergeant Hobson crackled back over the channel.

"Field Ops to Castle Lead: We show Crayven hostiles 100% neutralized. The reenforcements from Sheratan really saved our asses on this one."

"And Saxon? Is he accounted for amongst the dead or dying?"

"Negative, Major. Our best guess is, he never was here to begin with. "

I shook my head sadly.

"Can never get the major baddies, can we, Ops? Very well. Have recon launch hunter-killer drones and dispatch a manned scout party to check the perimeter. Meanwhile, the information I'm hearing from the Sheratan government seems to indicate Misters Grisham and Maxwell were successful, which means that our next layover - if there are no objections - will be at home. And that strikes me as the best place in the universe so far. Rally the troops and prep for departure. We'll dust off as soon as the Astrid signals ready."

"Aye, Major."


--------------------
Position: Senior Captain | Legionnaires
Current BattleMech: WHF-3B White Flame (Lothos) [Heavy - Quad]
Loadout: 1x Large Pulse Laser, 1x Medium Pulse Laser, 2x ER Medium Lasers, 1x Anti-Missile System, Jump Jets
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Corporal Luke Winston
post Jul 23 2007, 03:02 PM
Post #78



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The roar of the Kodiak battlemech as its own internal fusion engine ripped the machine to shreds washed over my battered fighter. While the Apache was still well within operational parameters, at least by my standards, despite the flashing red outlining the nose and right wing on my tact display. Ammo wise I was nearly out though, I had 3 Thunderbolt 10 missiles left and another 6 SRM salvos to split between the two launchers. The rest of Arrow squadron was not so good, only 3 units, myself included, were still airborne. Arrow-8 and Arrow-5, along with myself were were flying in standard V formation with my fighter taking point. I ended up taking temporary command of the squadron when Arrow-1 took an unlucky spray of autocannon rounds which peirced from the bottom of the fueslage up through his cockpit. When no ejection was spotted as the fighter plummetted into the trees, the worse was assumed.

"Tau Ceti IV militia base IX, this is Corporal Luke Winston, acting commander of Arrow squadron. Our unit has suffered heavy losses and request permission to disengage and return to base."

"Mercenary Winston, the Tau Ceti IV planetary militia does not recognize your authority to assume command of Arrow Squadron. Your contract, and those of all accompanying mercenaries within Arrow Squadron is considered terminated. Effective immediately. You may return to Militia Base IX if you wish, but do not expect any form of compensation or repairs. Militia Base IX out."

Those sons of b******.. I thought as I slammed my hand down on the already terminated comm link. Clenching my fist and my teeth, I fought back a string of obsenities I wanted to unleash on the arrogant bastards at the militia base, before reaching for the comm unit again. This time I opened up a link to Arrow-5 and Arrow-8 instead of the militia base.

"Well you guys heard how that went, seeing as how the thought it necessary to broadcast it on open frequency to everyone who cared to listen... Private Simpson, looks like Lipton and I are being left out in the cold, they didnt mention anything about you though. Hopefully you get a warmer reception back at the base." I said still through semi-clenched teeth. The private wasn't a mercenary, he was a regular in the planetary militia.

"Sir, with all due respect, the brass at HQ had no right to do that. I was present when the contract was set with you and the other mercenaries and there is no reason why they shouldn't honour that contract. I'd actually rather not return to HQ either."

"Thanks for the support Simpson, but I can't let you just abandon your position in the militia due to some uptight brass that dislikes us mercs. Besides the survivors could use some air support on their return trip to the base."

With a resigned sigh the private acknowledged me and broke off formation to find where the survivors from Arrow Squadron had gathered. Toggling the comm to just my wingmate Lipton I said in a little more light hearted voice, "Well buddy, looks like we're Free Agents again. What do you say we check out if the Legionnaires could use some experienced pilots... Maybe we can bum a few rounds of ammo and armour plating from them while we're at it."I added the last bit with a little chuckle, as I glanced again at my damaged fighter's readout and Lipton's critically wounded fighter.

"To the Commander of the Legionnaire assests here on Tau Ceti IV, my name is Corporal Luke Winston. Any chance you guys might be interested in taking on a couple of experienced fighter pilots?"

I had started out formal enough, but I had never really been one for all the boring drawn out formalities that usually were in place with most military organizations, especially once you move up in the ranks. I was just hoping that these Mercenaries didnt care too much about the formalities either.

This post has been edited by Captain Garrett Garland: Jul 24 2007, 01:01 AM


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Position : Corporal
Callsign : Ares - 3
Current Vehicle : MFCF-X17 Aerospace Fighter (Firebird) [50 tons]
Loadout : 2x Medium X-Pulse Laser, 4x LRM-5 (48 rounds standard, 24 rounds Heet Seeking, 24 rounds Magnetic Pulse), 2x Laser AMS


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Captain Charles Maxwell
post Jul 23 2007, 08:48 PM
Post #79



AEGIS DIVISION | Commander
Rank: General



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The sound of footfalls on ferrocrete, coupled with the scream of the wind whipping past my ears and punctuated intermittently by the crack of gunfire, created a primal aural experience as Sam Grisham and I frantically navigated the urban jungle that was Gellen's Heights, hurtling down rubbish-strewn alleyways and across crowded squares, the latter of which emptied rapidly as each one of the invisible sniper's shots rang out. It was by the grace of Blake that the heavy sprawl of the city posed an apparent problem for the shooter - although we often were forced across open areas, the heavy proliferation of shots which crashed into signs, lamp posts, media displays, and motor vehicles gave a strong indication that the rifleman did not have the clearest vantage point. However, it also became clearer and clearer that wherever the gunman was, he was behind us, and evidently very mobile.

"Grisham," I wheezed, diving over a cluster of waste recepticles, "our current strategy is obviously not working. There's a subway station ahead. I think we should try to get to it, and get some ferrocrete over our heads."

Grisham nodded, and evaded left through a knot of pedestrians, as I dove to the right. Up ahead, standing in stark contrast to the washed-out glow of the overcast daylight, loomed the dark maw of the Fithian Street subway terminal. The bounty hunter and I hurtled into its cavernous stairwell near-simultaneously, the whiz of bullets and the dull crunch of ferrocrete absorbing their impacts punctuating our movements as we stumbled down the entryway. A momentary flush of relief washed over me as the shooting abruptly subsided. The shriek of an alarm bell, followed by the sharp crack of locks disengaging, dragged me back into a state of panic seconds later as the station's doors swung open and a sea of people charged forth, their collective movement forcing Grisham and I back up into the street as hundreds of passengers, disembarking from a recently-arrived train, poured out of the terminal. Almost immediately, shots rang out once again, striking down an innocent pedestrian who had apparently been unfortunate enough to walk directly in front of the shooter's sights at the exact instant he'd pulled the trigger. Screams filled the air as the stricken man tumbled onto the pavement, blood pouring from the savage wound inflicted by a bullet meant for me. I cast Grisham a panic-filled gaze.

This post has been edited by Charles Maxwell: Jul 24 2007, 10:17 PM


--------------------
Position : Commander, Aegis Division
Callsign : Eden
Current BattleMech : CPLT-C1 Catapult
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Commodore Benjamin Maxwell
post Jul 28 2007, 12:11 AM
Post #80



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Posts: 658
Joined: 15-December 05
From: Tau Ceti IV
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One week later...

With a gentle 'whump,' the DropShip Dauntless eased down onto the Crayven Corporation's expansive private spaceport, its massive oval profile dwarfed and cast into shadow by the leviathan Astrid, which set its gargantuan frame down upon the organization's sprawling BattleMech proving grounds, the corporate headquarters having no adequate landing facilities to accomodate a ground landing of a vessel its size. As the Dauntless' engines whined down, I annotated a last entry in the Operation's command log before setting off to see to the reparations and reimbursements expected to be paid to the mercenary unit.

"Begin log.

"After a week of travel, our unit has returned to Sheratan, our arrival planetside heralded by news of great success on the part of Sam Grisham and my father - a fact I suspected was the case given the timely arrival of none other than the Sheratan planetary militia during our engagement on Tau Ceti IV. Thanks to them, we were able to successfully overthrow Saxon's strike force and prevent the Astrid from being destroyed, thereby protecting the rebels, and at the same time, preserving an invaluable piece of LosTech.

"Unfortunately, not all of our objectives were met with as high a level of success. The Nova Cats, who were supposed to have been our allies, turned traitor on us, instead siding with Saxon and very nearly overwhelming us. It is my belief that they were responsible for the disappearence of the Crayven reenforcements, and all units under Harris' and Reese's joint command are presumed destroyed or otherwise captured.

"Likewise, General Saxon's whereabouts are unknown. His remains were not found amongst the wreckage of his lance, although reports indicate that the Word of Blake laid waste to his orbiting battlegroup; it can be theorized that perhaps he never made it to the planet's surface, or perhaps was shot to pieces upon making planetfall. Due to the tumultuous climate on Tau Ceti IV at the moment, exploration of these theories was not possible.

"Despite these shortcomings, in less than one hour, I will be meeting with surviving rebel units of the Crayven Corporation to witness my father's reinstatement as chairman and CEO of the organization. Dad almost didn't make it to this one - a run-in with a nasty loyalist sniper nearly cost him his life and his career. Thank god the gun-happy lunatic lost his footing during a reload of his weapon and ended up as hamburger meat on the pavement below.

"Additionally, I will be interacting with division leaders from across the Crayven Corporation who will be heading up the team responsible for the restoration of the Legionnaires mercenary unit. This is a meeting I'm looking forward to - in just a few scant hours, the unit will be on the road to a full and complete reinstatement of all of its assets, and then some.

"I truly never saw this coming. After everything the unit's been through over the past few years - all the hardships, all the setbacks, all the downfalls...I couldn't imagine that we'd ever have a chance to win it all back...and from the most unlikely of benefactors."

I glanced at the Legionnaires' coat of arms, embossed on the bulkhead wall over my desk.

Per Victoria Vadum Nos Praemium...in victory shall we be rewarded.

The words brought a smile to my face.

"And in this small victory, I truly believe that today, we have, at last, found our reward."

-


- [ E N D ] -


--------------------
Position: Senior Captain | Legionnaires
Current BattleMech: WHF-3B White Flame (Lothos) [Heavy - Quad]
Loadout: 1x Large Pulse Laser, 1x Medium Pulse Laser, 2x ER Medium Lasers, 1x Anti-Missile System, Jump Jets
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Bounty Hunter: Sam Grisham
post Jul 31 2007, 02:41 PM
Post #81



Bounty Hunter
Rank: MechWarrior



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Posts: 44
Joined: 2-January 06
Member No.: 34





Epilogue to Operation XII.

The metallic walls hid away the sunlight of the outside world. The sun's golden rays had cleared away the previous week's horrendous rain and made way for a fresh start. The weather also mimicked the fresh start that was taking place within Crayven's laboratories. I stood quietly, watching through the viewing glass as several clinically dressed scientists ensured their work environment was secure.

“How's the wound healing up?” Charles called from behind, startling me slightly and (at the same time) reminding me of the bullet wound I had received earlier this week.

“It could be better...” I replied watching through the thick paned window. Charles frowned at the remark, perhaps a little embarrassed he had made it in the first place. Not many can say 'I'm fine' after being tagged by a bullet.

“As long as it is on the mend – that's all that matters.”

“Yeah...” I muttered, watching in awe as the scientists brought through the Rissikin's suppressor sample. I saw hope. I also saw the hardships that had been faced because of this. As I did, my mind fluttered back the events that had unfolded in the past...

One week earlier...

Charles Maxwell cast me a panic-filled gaze as seemingly hundreds of innocent citizen's scampered in fear.

“We're even more of a danger to these people then I realized...” I suddenly through, quickly figuring out that more innocent people could get hurt – or worse. I spun my head around, trying to find an escape root away from the pedestrians. We couldn't use the station for cover anymore as the sniper was on our level and could easily cause more collateral damage. The dead streets were our only hope.

I reached out for Charles' wrist and clutched tightly to it.

“FOLLOW ME!” I shouted above the shrieks of innocent.

“Where are we going?!” Maxwell cried.

“Not here! Thats for sure!”

We darted into the street, once again running through the rain.

Another crack of thunder, another gun shot.

Dodging bullets was going to be about as easy as dodging rain drops at this point. I could almost feel sniper eying my up in his scope and squeezing the trigger.

“Look! An alleyway!” Maxwell cried as he took off to our right.

“Charles! Wait! I--!” I was cut off by another crack of thunder. This time I felt it's sting. The bullet smashed into my left shoulder, causing me to crash to the slippery floor. Maxwell spun around, his eyes wider than saucepan lids and his jaw hitting his chest.

“Sam! GET UP!” he cried, dragging me further into the alleyway in an attempt to get my body out of the sniper's sights. I wailed in pain. The sharpshooter had hit be in left shoulder just below were my artificial arm implant seeded from. I lost all function of my arm and any futile attempt resulted in pain. Charles laid me against the brick wall, quickly checking to see if I was still alive.

“You need to get out of here!” I shouted above the roaring rain. My breath was becoming quick and panicked.

“I'm not leaving you...” the General replied. He quickly took off his jacket, ripping off it's sleeve and bunching it together. He then took off his belt and fashioned a make shift bandage to help slow down the bleeding. I groined has he tightened the belt around my chest and back. As soon as he finished, I grabbed him by the collar with my good hand.

“Take this and get out of here!” I hissed through clenched teeth. I shoved a miniature .22 handgun into his hand, hoping that it might be able to protect him to some degree. At least better than I had. Charles pocketed the small weapon, only so that he could free his hands and apply more pressure to the wound.

“Not a hope in hell...” he grunted, trying to think of a plan to get us out of this mess.

“I would have taken his advice you know!”

I tilted my head to my left.

“You!” Charles pointed at the figure who was now walking down the alley.

“How nice of us to meet face to face again. Had it not been for this weather, I would have only seen your face through my scope...” Terry's driver, the very traitor who had killed my good friend, was now standing not ten meters away from me and Maxwell. The sniper rested his rifle over his shoulder, whilst removing his dirty green sunglasses.

“I wont be needing these...” he muttered, folding them away single handedly into his front pocket. His eye cold eyes were revealed and his gut wrenching, harelip smile glimmered in the bland lighting. Charles took a few steps away, putting his hand close to his pocket.

“That's as far as you walk...” The sniper snarled. “... back up against the opposite wall!”

Charles did as he was told. Meanwhile I sat helpless, desperately thinking of what to do next. The sniper released the magazine mechanism, causing it to drop from the rifle. As he searched for another magazine in his breast pocket, something caught the elder Maxwell's eye. As I looked above the sniper, I couldn't see anything that could save us.

“Saxon sends his regards, by the way...” the sniper chuckled, slapping in fresh clip. “... do you have any last words for him?”

“As a matter of fact... I do...” Charles said, reaching into his pocket while the sniper fumbled with the re-cocking mechanism.

“And what's that?” The sniper replied, holding his freshly loaded weapon against his hip.

“Hire better goons for your dirty work!” Charles cried as he pulled the weapon from his pocket and aimed high. The sniper panicked, not expecting Maxwell to be holding a weapon. In his startled state, the sniper took a fraction of a second longer to pull the gun up to his shoulder. By the time Charles had fired it was over. The tiny .22 round left the miniature hand gun and flew above sniper's head. It's travel ended as it ricocheted off the retracted emergency fire escape ladder that hung above the sniper's head. The jolt was strong enough to cause the ladder to come crashing down it's rails in a straight and steady path. The sniper caught a glimpse and snapped his head up, just in time to catch the ladder's rail impale his eye socket. The rail smashed through the socket and then into his jaw, where it finally stopped as the first step rail crashed into his head. The sniper crumbled to the floor, although he was held upright thanks to the support of the ladder. I found it ironic that something that was created to save lives had ultimately ended one.

Hours later I was taken to a hospital under Charles' care.

Return to present...

“What a crazy week...” I said weakly. I soon found myself chuckling along with Maxwell.

“Certainly has been...”

We both watched as the scientists took a small sample from the phial. They placed it in a small beaker and placed it into a small chamber were they began to analysis it.

“Two bouquets for Emily today?” Maxwell questioned. Since Emily had been transferred to Crayven's medical wing, I had delivered her a bunch of flowers to be put by her bedside.

“No... just one... Terry's funeral is today...”

“Ah... I see.” Charles looked down at his feet. “His sacrifice hasn't been in vein...”

“No, it hasn't. But he'll be missed.”

Maxwell nodded as I took my leave down the long, silent hallway.

“Sam...” Charles called, stopping me mid step. “... thank you.”

“Hay, there's no need to thank me – just remember you owe me one month's pension!” I replied as I walked away.
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