| From: | Lars M Ericson <lericson@***.EDU> |
|---|---|
| Subject: | Raid Synopsis |
| Date: | Mon, 31 Jan 1994 16:05:59 CST |
goes:
**Download AV File Zyx.05C**
**Download Audio File 0835**
**Integrate File Zyx.05C/0835**
The scene is a large steel bay of some kind, dim emergency
lights illuminate the cargo bay of what appears to be a large
helicopter. The sound of a muffled turbine can be heard all around.
The image changes to a detailed green and black picture that chases
the previous shadows and uncertainty away. At the bottom of the
picture, "Low-Light" blinks a couple of times before disappearing.
The bay is filled with, what appears to be aluminum laced
plastic rods and various sheets of black canvas at first, but then
the shapes of small hang gliders can be made out. Five figures of
various sizes can be seen checking equipment. All of them are wear
black and grey camoflauge from head to toe.
:Reaper: Is the image coming through?
:Zzyzzx: Ya, everythings checking out Boss. The tranceiver link to my
cyberears seems to be working as well.
:Reaper: OK people, double check all equipment. I don't want anyone
getting killed.
:Jack: Target in sight. ETA 10 seconds.
:Sledge: Where is Jack staying while we go?
:Bane: Don't bother yourself with that.
:Reaper: Jack, you make sure to cover the local highways watching for
any trouble. Carrie is going to have to be ready for an immediate
Carnage Withdrawal.
:Jack: Don't you worry about her. She's primed and ready to fly.
The back of the cargo bay slowly opens up, a ramp lowering to
reveal a bird's eye view of a rundown neighborhood, the rooftops
zipping by quietly.
:Reaper: Let's go.
One by one, the runners drop out of helicopter on hang gliders
sailing out of sight. The last person jumps out leaving the scene of
the cargo bay behind, spiralling downward and then gliding over the
city streets. The other hang gliders are sillouettes against the
stark grey buildings. The destination appears to be medium sized
abandoned factory complex of in the distance. One large rusted
builing stands out from the surrounding small residential apartment
buildings. Smoke stacks stab into the sky like skeletal fingers
reaching for the stars.
:Reaper: Begin Plan A as soon as you hit the complex. The altitude
should mask our approach. Small circles when descending.
As the complex gets closer, it is apparent that the runners are
rather high the air. The other hang gliders can already be seen
circling downward from directly over building.
:D-Man: Astral perimeter clean.
The image starts spinning as the host begins his descent. It
appears that the hang gliders are quietly landing on the roof of the
complex. As the runners land, the hang gliders are quickly
disassembled into small heaps of canvas and plastic. The image
bounces as the host lands on the roof, his hang gliders is quickly
dismantled as well.
:Reaper: Sweep team, go.
:Bane: Check.
:Sledge: OK.
The large troll-sized, a smaller lean, and a large human-sized
form move over to the edge of the roof and disappear from sight as
they rappelling down the building.
The three forms left on the builing ready black submachine guns
and head towards a large sky window.
:Reaper: We're down.
:D-Man: Check. Entering the sky-way.
:Reaper: Check.
One of the figures pulls a small box from the satchel at his
side and begins working on the window, attaching wires and small
tools to various sections of the window.
:Bane: One down.
:Reaper: Check.
About five seconds pass and then a faint click can be heard.
:Morgue: Entrance acquired.
:D-Man: Checking astrally.
One of the figures slumps to the ground and remains motionless.
The other one waits by the widow. The image slowly scans the rooftop,
nothing but steam vents small ventilation blocks stick out from the
otherwise bleak rooftop.
:Sledge: Got two.
:Reaper: Check.
The runner on the ground, slowly starts to stir. He gets to his
feet, a dark spot can be seen on his shoulder that stands out from
the rest of his uniform.
:D-Man: An Air Elemental was patrolly.
:Zzyzzx: Was?
:D-Man: It is no more. I have suffered a slight wound, but am
otherwise fine. The window entrance drops thirty meters to a large
suspended grill level that overlook the main level. Crates and
weapons, as well as two motorcycles and a van can be seen on the main
level. The upper level has two tables and some chairs, a couch
looking towards a small trid set. A door of to the left leads to a
bunkroom. The bunkroom can maintain a dozen people. Two people,
slight cyberware, no magic, are sleeping in the bunkroom. Two people
are looking at some kind of map in the main area. Three targets on
the main level are stripping weapons. All are armed with pistols, the
people on the main level have assault rifles within reach. I must
heal myself before we enter.
:Zzyzz: Sounds good.
:Reaper: Two more down. Check on the sitrep D-Man.
:Bane: Guard house is mine.
The wounded figure places his hand on the wound and quitely
chants to himself for about twenty seconds. Afterwards he streches
his arm and nods towards the camera.
One of the runners opens the window slowly. The camera host
starts attaching rappeling lines to the opening. The three runners
attach a line to a small device on their belts and then drop through
the opening.
As the image descends, a lounge-like area is revealed. Two men
in combat fatigues are studying some kind of map on one of the
tables. Silenced shots rip into the two targets from the runners
weapons, knocking them to the ground, motionless.
:Zzyzzx: Lounge Clear.
The three figures hit the floor and immediately drop into a
defensive crouch. One of them motions towards the door leading into
the bunkroom and makes a cutting motion across his neck. He them
stealthfully makes his way over there. The other two turn and get
into firing stances aiming down and into the main level. Three men
can be seen talking and laughing with one another as they field strip
assault rifles. They are sitting on crates. The image zooms in on one
of the crates black letters across the plastic casing state: UCAS
EXPLOSIVES HANDLE WITH CARE.
:Zzyzzx: Explosives in the crates under targets. Hold fire D-Man.
:D-Man: Check.
:Reaper: Hold you hit. We have two more left in the guard station.
Hevaily armed, LMGs and grenade launchers. Sledge is cleaning up the
south side and planting explosves on their vehicles.
:Zzyzzx: On my mark, Reaper. D-Man nail 'em with some Mana Bolts.
:D-Man: Check.
:Reaper: Check. Ready yourself bane.
:Zzyzzx: Three, Two, One, Now.
Silencer fire rips out of the SMG which the image is sighted
down, blowing out the throat of one of the targets. A second target
is knocked into the wall by some invisible forces, sliding to the
ground leaving a streak of blood. A loud explosion is heard outside
of the building. The third target on the main level grabs his assault
rifle, but is cut down by a burst from the camera host's SMG.
:Zzyzzx: Main Level Clear.
:Reaper: Check. Perimeter Clear.
:Zzyzzx: Check.
A black, shrouded runner emerges from the bunkroom wiping a
survival knife on his pants leg.
:Morgue: The bunkroom is no longer occupied.
:Zzyzzx: Get to the main level and start planting the satchel
charges. I'll start on the east side, you on the west, work
clockwise.
:D-Man: I'll check this level for anything of importance.
The camera host and one of the other runners jog down the steel
staircase and start attaching small black bags to steel support
pillars and then go on the place steel canisters evenly throught the
main level.
:Reaper: Outside is clear. Let's move it people.
The three runners meet at the main door thirty seconds later.
Each nods to the other. The image scan the outside area. Fourty
meters of open concrete lead to a fence. A steel gate can be seen
down the fence off to the left. What remained of a guard station is
burning brightly, smoke curling into the sky. The other three runners
are finishing the act of opening the main gate.
:Zzyzzx: let's go.
The runners jog over to their companions, who wait til they are
all together before leaving the compound, running down the street.
The group runs about a hundred meters down the road and then cuts
into and alleyway. The narrow, dead-end alleyway is deep, out of
sight from the main road which it is attached to.
:Reaper: Charges in place?
:Zzyzzx: Everything went like clockwork, including the incendiary
explosives that were placed throughout the main level.
:Reaper: Good. Let's ditch this place people. Jack, what's the
situation?
:Jack: Everything's clear from my view point. You folks ready to go?
:Reaper: Yes, meet us at the LZ in ten.
:Jack: You got it Boss.
The runners strip out of their infiltration uniforms revealing
normal street clothes underneath. The equipment is stuffed into
sports bags, safely out of sight. The runners' identities can now be
seen. The team includes a large African-American Troll towering over
the rest of the team, his yellow eyes gazing from beneath his wild
hair. A large bald human with solid gold cybereyes is stuffing the
remains of his uniform. A tall skinny pale human with jet black hair
is leaning against the brick wall. A tall African-American with a
lionskin cloak is chekcing the fetishes that hang from his necklace.
A small, gaunt Amerindian with long black hair tied into a ponytail
can bee seen checking the street at the mouth of the alleyway.
:Reaper: Let's go.
The team leaves the alleyway, wearing totally normal street
clothes, everyone has a medium-sized sports bag with them. They walk
down the stret at a brisk pace, yet not quick enough to arouse
suspicion. Two blocks down and three over, an Ares Dragon cargo
helicopter can be seen landing in an empty parking lot. The Team jogs
over to the rotorcraft, scampers into the cargo bay as the vehicle
slowly takes off. The camera host is kneeling in the doorway wathcing
the factory complex slowly get smaller and smaller.
:Reaper: Morgue, blow the joint.
With that command, a loud concussion explosion is heard in the
direction of the factory. The supports of the building give way and
the entire complex starts to collapse. And then, as the building is
falling, a fiery explosion errupts from within the factory. Flames
shoot out of the windows in all directions. A blazing column of flame
can be seen in the distance as the rotorcraft turns and heads away.
**End Integrated File**
Red Cell Omega, lost 90% of their equipment and resources in that
raid. And, I think all those of you who are interested will find that
raids on a certain Los Angeles safehouse resulted in the arrest of
all key members of RCO. It appears we won't be hearing from them in
the next 30yrs-life. Thanx for your attention.]<<<<<
-- Bonejacker(16:08:55/01-31-55)
