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[NOTE THIS DOCUMENT IS BEING BURST DISTRIBUTED ON SECURE FREQUENCIES FOR SECURITY PURPOSES.]
If you are receiving this you would already know of disasters at Manhattan, somewhere near the financial district. I do not know of the details, but this is not my intent, but to inform you on the back-story and conspiracy of this whole mess.
Let me introduce myself. My name is John Leeky. I was a computer programmer and specialized in computer programming for the big shell. Though this is all extremely classified and that I am also risking my life telling you this, I know that this is something the people need to know.
My background is mainly in computers. I graduated MIT in computer science and computer engineering and really wanted to get into technology invention, creating cool things that would help people. I decided to take a government job, mostly so I could expand my horizons on learning classified info and working on highly sophisticated projects. I got the job in computers; mostly computer programming and engineering which I thought was a great first step to my dreams. I really had no assignment at the beginning, waiting for about a month while I worked to live at a computer parts warehouse, but soon I was transferred to my first job at a remote weapons development facility in the Guam area. I worked there for a few years on a couple modifications on smart missiles and some infantry personal computers items to better hook up troops to base. I enjoyed it a lot and gained priceless job experience.
A few years went by and during an annual performance check, I was asked if I was interested in a job working with what they called "classified advanced weapons development and research". Being a big area 51 buff all my life I hoped that this job would lead me there. I accepted this literally blind offer with no other details. I just hoped that it would pay a little better and lead to some great things.
As soon as I accepted I was whisked away into another room, into sort of like an interrogation office: a single door; behind me, a one way mirror; a camera staring in my direction; and a microphone hanging over me. I don't think I was really scared. I kinda liked it. I mean how many times in your life are you briefed on how you were going to work with people who dissected aliens all day?
The door swung open. A man in a black suit and an MP entered while another, heavily armed, waited outside. The man in the black suit unplugged the camera, while the MP got up on the tabled, which some what startled me and took out a utility knife and cut the microphone wire. Great, I thought, this has to be something so huge that this could be life threatening. The MP got down from the table, exited and closed the door behind him. The man in the black suit was left.
He took a briefcase he was holding and put it on the table, unlatched it after entering a touch pad code and a key and opened it. He took out a few manila folders, probably my personal records, and service record.
However this all took but a few seconds, and as soon as he was done he spoke "Mr. Leeky. You have been transferred to a top secret black ops project code named ARK. Let me make this as clear as possible," he came up to my face, "TOP SECRET. Is this understood?"
Questionable and somewhat scared I may screw up, "are you military, because I don't know whether to call you sir. I don't really know what to call you at all."
"There is no need to address me as anything. You say yes or no, are we clear?"
"Yes sir." I said, now extremely confused and scared.
"Now you will be working on the overall design of a brand new advanced weapon that we are now calling 'Arsenal Gear', as an associate of system and interface design and weapons operation protocol. Your supervisor has transferred you to this job because he feels you are working on projects below your potential. At this moment we cannot disclose to you the location of your transfer or anything else, other than you are leaving in two hours. Pack all of your belongings and clothing in maximum two standard issue duffel bags. On your flight you will receive a small briefing, outlining your project, its missions and the personnel you will work with. You will receive a more comprehensive briefing when you land. There is no turning back at this point. Understand?"
Somewhat overwhelmed and with a dry through I replied, "Yes," I coughed.
"That is all." He showed me the door as he was left to fill out some papers.
I was escorted to my apartment in an armored van with some kind of government guard (Marines, Marshals?), protecting me from some kind of danger, or keeping me from reporting back to Russia on my progress, I couldn't tell. Maybe both.
Extra safety was taken entering my apartment with SWAT team tactics, clearing out my room of anything. I packed, and as I was about to leave, my luggage was thoroughly checked by one of the personnel. After I was 'cleared', so to say, I was again shuttled, this time to the airstrip. When I got out, my luggage was taken and I was put on the plane, blindfolded. "Jesus," I thought, "this may be more than I asked for." The flight lasted, from what I guessed was eight hours and we made a stop, and transferred to another plane. This flight took another eight or so hours when we again stopped and transferred, this time to a helicopter with no windows, so my blindfold was taken off. I was then handed my first briefing, a small folder with what the hell I was going to be doing.
The first page outlined the project Arsenal Gear, summarizing it a next generation metal gear program. "Great, nuclear arms" I started to feel really uncomfortable, almost nausea, when I read 'metal gear'. I've read too many unofficial accounts of these nuclear battle tanks to know they are bad news. I kept reading: I was responsible for the weapons protocol mainly and user interface controls secondly. "Great. I would be writing the code that will trigger the doomsday machine" I was working under a couple people, all I've never heard of. A couple doctors in their fields. I just didn't have a real great feeling about it, I mean, all the security, luggage search, MPs cutting microphone wire. It was definitely more than I expected.
We landed at out destination, and from what I knew inside the chopper, I had no idea where I was. I was lead outside and got a big blast of sea spray in my eye. I almost dropped my folders as my arms reacted to the burn. I was in the middle of a sea, from what I could tell. I looked around and there were a series of structures, all similar looking, orange, and organized in a polygon with a larger building in the middle. I didn't have the time to take it in; I was rushed, again, inside. We went down a series of stairs where I met, what would become my administrator, Gary Foster.
"Welcome aboard John!" he stuck his hand out and as the only friendly type person I had seen in a long time, I shook it. "Let's get you all settled in and get comfortable, you're going to be here a while."
[END PART ONE OF X / PLEASE WAIT FOR NEXT TRANSMISSION]
[NOTE THIS DOCUMENT IS BEING BURST DISTRIBUTED ON SECURE FREQUENCIES FOR SECURITY PURPOSES.]
If you are receiving this you would already know of disasters at Manhattan, somewhere near the financial district. I do not know of the details, but this is not my intent, but to inform you on the back-story and conspiracy of this whole mess.
Let me introduce myself. My name is John Leeky. I was a computer programmer and specialized in computer programming for the big shell. Though this is all extremely classified and that I am also risking my life telling you this, I know that this is something the people need to know.
My background is mainly in computers. I graduated MIT in computer science and computer engineering and really wanted to get into technology invention, creating cool things that would help people. I decided to take a government job, mostly so I could expand my horizons on learning classified info and working on highly sophisticated projects. I got the job in computers; mostly computer programming and engineering which I thought was a great first step to my dreams. I really had no assignment at the beginning, waiting for about a month while I worked to live at a computer parts warehouse, but soon I was transferred to my first job at a remote weapons development facility in the Guam area. I worked there for a few years on a couple modifications on smart missiles and some infantry personal computers items to better hook up troops to base. I enjoyed it a lot and gained priceless job experience.
A few years went by and during an annual performance check, I was asked if I was interested in a job working with what they called "classified advanced weapons development and research". Being a big area 51 buff all my life I hoped that this job would lead me there. I accepted this literally blind offer with no other details. I just hoped that it would pay a little better and lead to some great things.
As soon as I accepted I was whisked away into another room, into sort of like an interrogation office: a single door; behind me, a one way mirror; a camera staring in my direction; and a microphone hanging over me. I don't think I was really scared. I kinda liked it. I mean how many times in your life are you briefed on how you were going to work with people who dissected aliens all day?
The door swung open. A man in a black suit and an MP entered while another, heavily armed, waited outside. The man in the black suit unplugged the camera, while the MP got up on the tabled, which some what startled me and took out a utility knife and cut the microphone wire. Great, I thought, this has to be something so huge that this could be life threatening. The MP got down from the table, exited and closed the door behind him. The man in the black suit was left.
He took a briefcase he was holding and put it on the table, unlatched it after entering a touch pad code and a key and opened it. He took out a few manila folders, probably my personal records, and service record.
However this all took but a few seconds, and as soon as he was done he spoke "Mr. Leeky. You have been transferred to a top secret black ops project code named ARK. Let me make this as clear as possible," he came up to my face, "TOP SECRET. Is this understood?"
Questionable and somewhat scared I may screw up, "are you military, because I don't know whether to call you sir. I don't really know what to call you at all."
"There is no need to address me as anything. You say yes or no, are we clear?"
"Yes sir." I said, now extremely confused and scared.
"Now you will be working on the overall design of a brand new advanced weapon that we are now calling 'Arsenal Gear', as an associate of system and interface design and weapons operation protocol. Your supervisor has transferred you to this job because he feels you are working on projects below your potential. At this moment we cannot disclose to you the location of your transfer or anything else, other than you are leaving in two hours. Pack all of your belongings and clothing in maximum two standard issue duffel bags. On your flight you will receive a small briefing, outlining your project, its missions and the personnel you will work with. You will receive a more comprehensive briefing when you land. There is no turning back at this point. Understand?"
Somewhat overwhelmed and with a dry through I replied, "Yes," I coughed.
"That is all." He showed me the door as he was left to fill out some papers.
I was escorted to my apartment in an armored van with some kind of government guard (Marines, Marshals?), protecting me from some kind of danger, or keeping me from reporting back to Russia on my progress, I couldn't tell. Maybe both.
Extra safety was taken entering my apartment with SWAT team tactics, clearing out my room of anything. I packed, and as I was about to leave, my luggage was thoroughly checked by one of the personnel. After I was 'cleared', so to say, I was again shuttled, this time to the airstrip. When I got out, my luggage was taken and I was put on the plane, blindfolded. "Jesus," I thought, "this may be more than I asked for." The flight lasted, from what I guessed was eight hours and we made a stop, and transferred to another plane. This flight took another eight or so hours when we again stopped and transferred, this time to a helicopter with no windows, so my blindfold was taken off. I was then handed my first briefing, a small folder with what the hell I was going to be doing.
The first page outlined the project Arsenal Gear, summarizing it a next generation metal gear program. "Great, nuclear arms" I started to feel really uncomfortable, almost nausea, when I read 'metal gear'. I've read too many unofficial accounts of these nuclear battle tanks to know they are bad news. I kept reading: I was responsible for the weapons protocol mainly and user interface controls secondly. "Great. I would be writing the code that will trigger the doomsday machine" I was working under a couple people, all I've never heard of. A couple doctors in their fields. I just didn't have a real great feeling about it, I mean, all the security, luggage search, MPs cutting microphone wire. It was definitely more than I expected.
We landed at out destination, and from what I knew inside the chopper, I had no idea where I was. I was lead outside and got a big blast of sea spray in my eye. I almost dropped my folders as my arms reacted to the burn. I was in the middle of a sea, from what I could tell. I looked around and there were a series of structures, all similar looking, orange, and organized in a polygon with a larger building in the middle. I didn't have the time to take it in; I was rushed, again, inside. We went down a series of stairs where I met, what would become my administrator, Gary Foster.
"Welcome aboard John!" he stuck his hand out and as the only friendly type person I had seen in a long time, I shook it. "Let's get you all settled in and get comfortable, you're going to be here a while."
[END PART ONE OF X / PLEASE WAIT FOR NEXT TRANSMISSION]