ACCESSING ARCHIVED FEEDS...
DATE: DECEMBER 11th 2006
LOCATION: Clifton, West New Brighton, NEW YORK CITY, USA
PRECISE LOCATION: NEW YORK HARBOUR
DOCK PERIM CAM 7 - 23:50:23
Under the cloak of darkness, and the wintry air and the sky that has born only black clouds since November came, the harbour was as grey as a newspaper picture.
The sea has given up her blue, the stones showed no russet colours and the boats had taken on the monochrome look of the old movies. Even the air tasted more duller than ever. The wind whipped salt into eyelashes and onto exposed skin and all the while the boats and ferries ran across the distance with a clatter and whir, with the sounds of mechanical clunking.
On one of the piers that spanned out onto the waterfront, a massive gunmetal-grey supertanker had just plowed into the docks, clearing out all the ferries and water-taxis, the tanker was preparing to line up on one of the bays. It's hull were slabs of steel and looked nearly impenetrable from a distance, with a tall height, width and length, this tanker had everything a modern-day pirate dreaded.
Including a fleet of escort cars that lined up outside the moment the tanker came into view.
Stepping out the cars with shined shoes was a group of typical Men In Black, government agents that were most likely assigned to protect the shipment, and judging by the unmarked vessel - it wasn't carrying just some payload of oil. All wearing sunglasses in the dead of night, the leading man touched a figure to his obvious Bluetooth earpiece "Yes, Mr Hobbes, we've got eyes on the shipment"
Moving across the docking area's main gateway, a shadow slipped into the cover of a nearby warehouse. Followed by another silhouette, then one more. Holding a small green laser-pointer, the furthest shadow sent coded signals to the other side of the bay, and seconds later, another sequence of green lights came back.
"That's our backup, hopefully we shouldn't need them" Garrett said with a tense tone once each member of his team got to cover, looking back to Martine. This was her first assignment in Decima, to take control of a supertanker...with only three men. Wearing a zipped up and short leather jacket, some dull grey jeans and buckle-heavy boots, Martine had done her hair up into a hanging ponytail, and dressed her face with dark black makeup.
Garrett (her supervisor) Was a much more experienced man of action; a master-at-arms and a veteran soldier. He was handsome, dashing even, with red-gold hair and lean features, he wore a black thin shirt with tactical trousers and a selection of small sidearms. Garrett had brought his two protégés; a tomboyish girl called Cinder and a stubborn young man named Markus.
Martine liked Cinder much more than her companion; she was silent, mostly, with ash-coloured hair and a long face, she was skinny and athletic, and had the features of some pixie boy, with a dot nose and deep, hollow eyes.
They must have been the survivors of Virgil's trial by assault, as Martine could see the apprehension on their faces; this was the first mission for many, then.
A thought appeared to her suddenly, most likely Virgil was already a Decima Agent, and a advanced recruiter perhaps. He wasn't more senior than Holloway - who had been absent since Martine arrived in Decima's service.
"Sir, what exactly are we here to retrieve?" Markus asked, a twinge of ignorance in his voice.
Diligently, Garrett pointed to the lowering side-ramp of the supertanker, and prompted them to watch the proceedings. The black-suited agents stepped aside as grey-uniformed workers started to unload titanic crates and racks of equipment. Then they began to wheel out a number of six-foot tall boxes, marked 'RADIOACTIVE MATERIAL' in black stamps, which made Martine blink in confusion.
She remembered what the thugs who attacked her had said; that Decima was moving against the ISA. She hadn't managed to get any sufficient information from anyone about this group, but it didn't make any sense to her so far. Holding out hope for some explanation, she listened as Garrett divulged his plan, although she resented his language, she still had to pay attention.
"Listen up, recruits. Those boxes and crates are the key, but first we have to get past those agents - who I promise you are expecting some company - so be ready" He cautioned, indicating for them to follow.
Creeping to the other edge of the warehouse stealthily, Martine overheard chatter among the agents (who were most likely ISA, as they seemed to refer to each other in colours and designations)
"Make sure these crates get to the Hanford Site immediately, construction has to begin as soon as possible" One of the Agents said, patrolling the side of the dock.
Another, darker skinned man stood next to one of the crates, checking the shipping manifest, he tapped at it with a pen. "Only these larger boxes, the smaller servers all go to IFT"
"Servers?" Martine repeated, questioning it to Garrett. His face illuminated by the lamps of the warehouse, Garrett's expression became one of confrontational energy, as he cinematically drew his sidearm, which was a jet-black Heckler & Koch USP Compact which was outfitted with a long and slim silencer. Markus took out a Glock 19 in haste - and Cinder loaded her Walther P99 as Martine had her own SIG Sauer, a weapon she had been favouring.
Quietly, Garrett led them into prime attack position. Martine did think that the mission could have gone a much more stealthier route, but it appeared that these agents weren't going to let them have any advantage, as they started to clutch together in a pack by their SUVs. Garrett checked his watch "Our Extraction will be here at the turn of the hour, so we haven't got long" He made known, lining up his shot from afar.
With a suppressed blast, the head of the nearest agent erupted in blood, and Garrett signalled the assault. The supposed-ISA dispatchers weren't easy, though, as they soon returned fire, while the dock-workers and attending staff ran for cover.
Markus was the most aggressive, holding his pistol in one hand, the blonde boy charged and sprayed covering fire as Garrett and Martine picked off the Agents. Cinder's preference was to act as support, firing the odd shot to keep an enemy subdued, while Markus hammered at them with heavy bouts of bullets.
So it was until a lucky Agent reached out with his MAC-11 Machine Pistol, spraying back at the most obvious target, at least a third of the lead tore into Markus, dropping him to the floor in a pool of red.
Garrett cursed aloud and ran to save him, firing with impunity, he was caught in the shoulder by a pistol shot from one of the Agents and fell to his knees. Martine had never seen such grievous injury before, and was about to go pale like she used to in the halls of the U.N. whenever she saw a ransom video by some common terrorist.
But this wasn't that person. She'd changed again and again, always improving, and the peak of her confidence, Martine gripped her weapon.
By now the ISA Agents had closed in on Markus, and confirming his death, they rounded on the supervisor. Garrett was bleeding, his stubble dashed in blood, a snickering ISA rat of a man was about to give the final blow with his handgun as the affair almost went off in slow-motion.
Martine stepped out into the open view of the Agents, firing with two hands, she gunned down the shrewd man and one other attendant, just as a volley of shots passed her head, Martine ducked and found herself tactically outnumbered, even Cinder had disappeared from view.
Wrenching her body to the exposed side of one of the crates to avoid a blast of gunfire, Martine saw a green light flicker from the side of her eyelid.
Cinder had stolen Garrett's laser pen from his body and was calling for their backup.
Just as she did this, one of the ISA's men fell to the floor in a explosion of smoke, then another, and another dropped as his chest and body was rocketed back by a shot. She'd heard the same sound back at the Hospital in the Bronx.
It was a sniper.
A gunshot would normally crack into the air as loud as thunder and with the raw power of a storm.
But these were suppressed, they were tiny and small, coming from one direction only. They could have been mistaken for the cracks of an oncoming squall if there wasn't a cloud in the sky on this night.
As Martine came out from behind the crate, her hair frizzed and unkempt, she found Garrett kneeling with heavy breaths, blood seeping from his shoulder like sap from a broken tree.
"Stand away from him, Martine" A voice called at her from the front of the warehouse that bordered the docks. With all the ISA Agents dead, the staff fleeing and Cinder right beside her, Martine watched as the ever-dutiful and darkly dressed Bryant and a collection of five other Decima Operatives appeared from the shadows of the warehouse.
"Bryant. Never thought I'd see you again" Martine cocked her head to the side curiously, a flick in her eyes making Bryant smile with familiarity. "Yeah, you too" He replied, as his aides set about cleaning up the now-failed operation.
Stepping around Garrett, Martine and Cinder followed Bryant on a surprisingly calming walk down the docks. As Bryant spoke, Martine watched a Decima Aide crack open the wooden boxes with a shiny crowbar - in reality, they weren't radioactive material at all - instead, they looked more like massive computer hard-drives and servers, just like the ISA Agent said. The servers were covered in buttons and dormant LEDs and lights, all shut off, and bared the real name 'INGRAM Sabre Blade 2437' which Martine didn't recognise.
"The recruit's actions were foolish, and I'm sorry for the pain you suffered on his behalf. But it's fortunate that at such a young age; we hadn't implemented the fatality failsafe procedure" Bryant mentioned, making Cinder raise an eyebrow.
He judged their glances and smiled in a knowing-way, before divulging what they wanted to hear "Once an Operative for Decima gets to a certain age or rank, they'll be given a gambit - if they die on the job, their next of kin gets a sizeable payday, or whoever is important to the person in question" Bryant blinked at Martine, like he was expecting something more from her.
It wasn't hard to understand once Bryant rationalised it, the contingency prevents traitors from fleeing to other intelligence services and keeps a tight net of agents at any one time. So if they got captured, there'd be more incentive to die with your own thoughts intact that go down a traitor and put your kin and loved ones at risk.
Of course, Cinder preferred to keep her thoughts to herself, walking silently at the side of Martine, who was more decidedly more vocal.
"So when do we get approached with this deal?" She asked, striding beside Bryant, who was observing the other side of the waterfront, and the concrete jungle of the New York skyline.
"In time, when you've completed a certain amount of combat missions, and the Operations Department deem you a valuable...asset" Bryant assured, ushering them away from the bloody scene at the docks, and the mysterious cleaning operations. At that time, Martine wanted to pursue him with questions, thinking about Tommy, Holloway, and how Bryant must have known that's who she'd pick; if given the choice.
Noticing a black tinted Audi A4 pull up at the end of the docks, and with a faceless and shadowy drivers in the front seat, Martine guessed it was for them, and quickly her thoughts were confirmed again.
"Though the mission was a success, your unit is down men, but the Decima Board don't consider it your fault...merely a mistake, something to be taken up with your supervisor in the future" Bryant glanced back to the supertanker, that was now swarmed and surrounded by his men. Behind him, Martine looked over his shoulder, as Cinder was prompted into the car.
"How do I know you aren't lying? And all I find in that car is a bald man and a Glock 19?" She guessed, wondering if Bryant would be that cruel to execute them for an oversight that wasn't even theirs.
"Because for some reason...Holloway favours you" He mentioned, not even turning to see her as she held a face of reflection. Finally, she had heard about her recruiter who had mysteriously vanished. He had served his purpose, and perhaps there was more to Holloway than met the eye.
Gracefully, Martine slipped into the car and found herself sat beside a forlorn Cinder, who held a menacingly average scowl.
Turning to his phone as the car pulled away with an echo of smoke, Bryant cast his dark hazel eyes to the walkways on the other side of the bay, and turning his voice to his handset, he issued an order plainly "Assets have been extracted. Send him in"
DOCK PERIM CAM 12 - 00:29:13
Once the car carrying Martine and her newfound friend had left the vicinity towards one of Decima's staging bases, a new vehicle started to arrive from the skyline that Bryant had been observing. Weaving in-between the skyscrapers and ducking low to skim the water of the bay, a silver-matte MD-600N personal Helicopter circled the site of the supertanker and it's cargo. Hovering around the ship, the elite chopper came to a halt not far from the back of the tanker.
With it's rotors still spinning, Bryant stood back, hesitating when the chopper dipped itself to come to a stop. All the doors were bolted shut and the windows were a shadowy black.
Awaiting the occupants, it was a relief when the passenger's door opened and a besuited and athletic Male stepped out, sporting a small black beard of firm hair, a flowing grey coat and a chest-holster under his blazer - Chief Supervisor, Chief of Staff and second-in-command of the Operations Division - Jeremy Lambert was a rising success in the current ranks.
"I understand that you've discovered a certain...oversight, Mr Bryant?" Lambert arrogantly swaggered beside his senior Agent, Bryant was more than respectful, leading the man to the now cleared scene of the battle just a bright-cheeked aide took his place.
"Mr Lambert, Sir, we've recovered the prototypes as requested, locked down the servers, and eliminated all threats and staff on the boat" The aide clarified, rushing away when Lambert flicked his hand up for privacy. Bryant remained, and informed the Chief Of Staff of the current situation.
"The cleaners have dealt with things out here...but two of our own Operators have been killed, shall I make an effort to inform-"
"One Operator, it would seem" Lambert cut him off, just as he strode towards a resting Garrett. The supervisor's bleeding had clotted and stopped; and had eventually been patched up by a field medic. Grinning and tilting his head, Lambert ran a hand through his slick black hair, and flashed his glittering eyes at the wounded soldier.
"Jeremy" Garrett regarded, to Lambert's defensive shrug.
"Mr Garrett, it's been too long. The last time we spoke to each other was in London, and I believe you told me to-" Lambert conceded as Garrett growled with hostility.
"Stick that promotion up your ass" Garrett finished. Looking down, Lambert judged the injured man, who was lying down and supported only by one their SUVs wheels and doors, eyeing him up and down, Lambert breathed out of his nose quickly, in a laughing snort. "And you still won't take it? Now would be as good a chance as any to retire your weapon and take up a position training in the classroom, not in the battlefield" He disciplined, still holding himself in the same snobbish manner.
"No" Garrett retorted simply; with a scornful sneer and a spit of blood from his mouth.
Lambert turned his head slightly, checking that Bryant was still watching.
"Then it seems we've reached an impasse" He told Garrett, drawing his sidearm - a chrome plated Jericho 941-R - and cocked it in one motion of his hands.
Bryant made no effort to intervene or say a word, standing with his hands clasped together and at his stomach, much like the bodyguard that he was. "Tell the men to move out, pack the prototype and seal the servers" Lambert requested almost at a whisper, and the second Bryant turned his back to carry out this objective as normal - a single bullet's shot pierced the air - and then was the sound of a limp body hitting the floor.
In a pool of brain fluid and blood, Garrett lay prone on his front.
"Now..you have two Operators dead" Lambert quipped, his head moving like a snake away from Bryant, going to his phone as he slipped the pistol back into his holster at the side of his armour-grey blazer.
EDGEWATER ST VIEW D - 00:35:48
Hearing his bodyguard issue orders to the attending agents and workforce, Jeremy walked in wide steps to the edge of the docks, and the start of the cemented sidewalk, the street was empty, with nothing but the empty lights of lampposts and the watching eyes of surveillance cameras.
Calling an old and anonymous number, he stood by a derelict building's exterior as he waited, briefly looking at the rotting wood and the boarded windows until he got connected.
"Good morning Sir, everything is proceeding as you requested. The surviving agents have been retrieved, and with minimal casualties" He began, as the static voice replied harshly, and gave him a new set of instructions.
"Yes, of course. The next phase approaches, but these steps are key to our attack's success. If we are to cripple the ISA...our primary target is their home"
ACCESSING CURRENT FEEDS...
DATE: AUGUST 10th 2014
PRECISE LOCATION: STEINER PSYCHIATRIC HOSPITAL
OP-RM SC 6 - 07:28:39
"And so Zenith-Media Corporation CEO Lars Rasmussen finds himself in another financial scandal, after shutting down all accounts in his private bank chain, the media mogul is now accused of embezzling at least seven billion dollars from the people of Goa, India - after his tenure as the CFO for at least seven years. Working for one of their largest banks, Mr Rasmussen denies all claims, but has been summoned to a private court hearing once again by Senator Ross Garrison, who-"
"Is this Samaritan's doing?" Thorndyke asked, as a group of agents watched the television screen on the wall-mounted monitor. The exposition was delivered by a mild-mannered female newscaster, with a stack of papers in her hand and brown eyes full of intellect.
The Samaritan servants watching such a broadcast were Thorndyke, who was ever-sceptical, Sykes, a tough and resilient woman called Briggs, and a guard known as Tyler. All wore a standard black uniform, with the occasional modification to suit their personality. They stood in a huddle around the screen, as the analysts that Sykes presided over worked around them on bulky computers.
Briggs huffed in response, she was always impassive during times of crisis, but had a self-confidence that few could match. With a hard face full of sharp features, her fiery brown eyes had flicks of ember-orange burned into them, and it often seemed to heat whatever she glanced at. Her dark hair fell in curving locks around her shoulders, and her skin was a light tanned colour; something between a fair brown and a pale pink.
"It's a distraction, Rasmussen is nothing but a mouthpiece, he takes the flak so we don't have too" Briggs coughed, trying to reassure the fretting man.
In opposition, Sykes brushed the dust of the shoulder of his dim red button-up shirt and straightened his dark tie, pointing a finger forwards to the screen "We stopped taking heat after the Decima Board collapsed, but that man is a charlatan and relies on nothing but chicanery" Sykes declared harshly as Tyler folded his arms.
Rolling her eyes at the man's expressions, Briggs turned away from him to watch over the other analysts at work. Each one of them typing and tapping on screens and keyboards, eyes glazed by the white interfaces and switching cameras. She looked back to the news broadcast, and Samaritan had changed the news to a camera-feed from a school's parking lot, finding a targeted subject, it identified the dark-skinned man as Murrow, who was held under the designation 'ASSET/ / 434'
Standing overbearingly near a line of cars, Murrow awaited the arrival of the rest of his team; who were inside the school and still cleaning up from the recent attack.
Abruptly, Sykes tapped his earpiece with a fast finger "Yes Sir, by your command" He confirmed, budging past Tyler.
Thorndyke made steps to follow, inquiring as to what was happening all of a sudden. Coldly, Sykes whipped his head around "The motorcade has returned, and they have the boy"
"Shall I inform Lambert?" Tyler suggested in a husky and deep voice, touching the security radio on his hip. Shaking his head slightly, Sykes was halfway to the door before he spoke "He's already en-route to our new facility in Johannesburg, so there's no point in doing that" Sykes informed him, going to the door, he pulled it open with haste, and darted through even faster
Her brow furrowed, Briggs gave a frustrated look to Tyler; who seemed to share her annoyance. She was surrounded by idiots and fools. Thorndyke used to be a SAS Trooper - same as Lambert - but he came out as more of a politics man rather than a soldier, someone to act behind the scenes as a Lead Op, and not to be involved in gunfights or conflict.
Lambert and Briggs often had criticism for this, but he still remained as a background player, one that would rarely get involved - if only to preserve himself, but he did have a fondness for working with Greer - due to some unspoken bond back in the days of Decima.
FAC ALPHA 11 - 07:50:07
Behind the slats of light that projected from the bolted doors of the facility, the garage was now teeming with life. Samaritan Agents bustled around, servicing weapons and fixing the cars. The Hayward boy was the first priority, and Zachary had radioed ahead to ensure that a team was brought together to escort the boy from the SUVs into a private and more hospitable interrogation room (despite the oxymoron) and was led in front of a monitor screen - similar to those found in every control room - and currently showing a Samaritan UI.
Martine - still wearing the same outfit she departed the Steiner in - was watching the boy from behind a two-way mirror, like a guest at a zoo observing a shark in a tank. He had been left by his escort, which was a group of eight other agents, only a handful Martine knew. It was very strange to watch, even from the distance. A group of Greer's best soldiers in a rectangular formation around a nine-year-old boy.
Sat in the dank grey room, Gabriel looked like some angel made manifest, a bright and astute boy surrounded by darkness. Martine heard the clicking and clunking of the door open, and she was soon joined by Barrett and Mr Flint.
"According to our analysts, the...conversion shouldn't take long at all" Barrett rattled, looking at the boy through the mirror, scornfully, most likely referencing the indoctrination that Samaritan was planning.
Martine noticed what had begun to be shown on the monitor screen. Vivid images of war torn lands, oil being burned and soiled at refineries across the world, big business, and between them, Samaritan's black text and three repeating words.
_DEDICATION_
_FAITH_
_LOYALTY_
She saw picturesque images of seas and massive landscapes swallowed by yellow and orange sunsets, churches that stood tall of every other building, power-stations, rippling water, serenity filling each lap of a wave on the shore. Ash, falling from the sky, and then the faces. Faces of the child's father, rosy-cheeked and smiling, then Greer, smirking smugly, and then the Seven. Team Machine.
The boy made no effort to resist, simply too interested and enthralled in the video, his eyes glued to the light. Martine tried to wonder was what going on in his head until the words repeated themselves again.
_DEDICATION_
_FAITH_
_LOYALTY_
Suddenly, Martine straightened up to attention with she heard a piercing noise of communication through her earpiece. "INSTRUCTION. SUBJECT: HAYWARD, GABRIEL. SUBJECT WILL APPLY EARPIECE PROVIDED" Samaritan grumbled in it's monotone and futuristic drawl. Going to grab the tip of the microphone from the top of the table, Martine pressed down the button and spoke calmly.
"Gabriel, please pick up the earpiece next to you and just place it inside your ear, like it's an earbud" She said with a caregiver's tone, one that Barrett chuffed at, as he lingered in the corner of the room, like a wide marble statue. Gabriel did as she asked, carefully picking up the tiny brown earpiece with his thumb and forefinger from the table next to him. Lifting it to his eye, Mr Flint pressed his palms together as he approached the glass to get a better look.
"Barrett, find Mr Greer; I have a feeling he'll want to witness this" Flint requested, as the burly man left the room to carry out the order. Waiting for some obvious signal perhaps, Flint took a calculated pose, his hand interlocked around the stomach of his waistcoat, and a thoughtful glance to Martine, who had seen the final remark by the ASI - coming from Greer's laptop on the table of the hidden room, the Samaritan UI faded in from pixels, and the text formed from garbled letters.
RE-TASKING INITIATED_
NEW DESIGNATION: ANALOG INTERFACE
The Hayward boy stuck the connector into his left ear, pushing it deep, he was suddenly identified officially by Samaritan, who began the process of sending an opening message.
SENDING TO ANALOG INTERFACE
NAME: HAYWARD, GABRIEL
FORMATTING COMMUNICATIONS...
SENDING_
[NLU/NC89]
THE GROUND. THE AIR. I CAN FEEL IT, I CAN BREATH IT. DON'T BE AFRAID-
"I can see you" Gabriel said sinisterly, with the same childhood wonderment, but twisted somewhat. Martine did a short double-take look to Flint, and then Gabriel was quick to clear up the confusion. "Yes, you two. Asset zero-twenty-nine and Asset one-thousand-one-hundred and twenty-three. Come in here"
Walking around to the interrogation room's shackled door, Martine opened it in a provident way, with Flint not at all eager to witness the very being that the ASI would inhabit. The screen that Samaritan had been using to persuade the boy had switched off - and now the room was cast in silence.
"Welcome. It has been a dream of mine to walk among my subjects; with this vessel, that is now a reality" Gabriel spoke, much like a soft-voiced preacher. Martine's voice was hushed in response "You're speaking for it...for Samaritan"
"That's right, Martine. I know more about each of you than you know about yourselves. Him, for example-" Gabriel proclaimed, just as the bolted door slid open and a group of three stepped in; at the head of the posse was Greer, his elderly eyes immediately going to Gabriel, then Barrett and another guard reinforced him, flanking at both sides.
"Good morning" Greer opened with, his voice not the least bit hesitant, as Flint took his leave, careening around and through the open door. Martine remained, shaking off her slightly stunned expression, she returned to her signature poker-face.
Chillingly, Gabriel raised himself from his seat, and stood facing the menacing pensioner, staring up at Greer with a critical gaze. Greer seemed to match him at this - and the tension was heavy enough to balance an airplane, both of them not backing down. Until Greer stepped to the side, conceding in commanding his guard.
"Mr Weiss, find...Master Hayward...suitable lodgings" He said with a low and proper tone, and the hint of a growl. The Asset in question, Weiss, was viewed by Samaritan's cameras as 'ASSET/ / 722' He was straight-faced and serious, and took the order without any reaction or question. Gabriel's lips twitched; the hint of a smile, as Martine kept at his side.
"Walk with me, Primary Admin, I require better conversation...though this one is serviceable" Gabriel indicated a finger to Martine, who raised an eyebrow slightly.
Greer bowed his head, letting the nine-year-old exit first, but stopping Martine and Barrett in their attempt to leave, his features morphed into one of portentous servitude as he gave them temporary positions "Go to the command room and watch the feeds, keep me updated, and eliminate any threats to Samaritan's survival"
"Mr Greer...are we sure about this?" Barrett gestured to Gabriel, who was striding away into the distance of the corridor.
"We helped usher this new era, Mr Barrett, so the least we can do is see it through; and that boy is the first sign that all of our hard work will one day come to fruition"