Ogilvy sat at the vantage point while preparing his TKM. He inserted the magazine, pulled back the bolt and attached the scope, each stage bringing sweet sounds of metal pieces locking into place. He referred back to his cyberbrain through his visor display to remind him of the description of his target. Relaxing the base of the sniper rifle on the edge of the hotel he was stationed at, he looked down the scope. The target was out in the open, rummaging through an ATM he shot up. Ogilvy held his breath to take the shot, but was interrupted by an incoming transmission. He lifted his left hand to his helmet and tapped twice. "Go ahead," he whispered.
"Abort mission," said Aahmiah. "You're presence has been requested back at the New Eden station." Ogilvy grunted in anger, his time having been wasted. He tapped on his helmet once and fired the rifle. The .50 AD round flew in a straight line and ignited the remains of the ATM, causing glass to go everywhere. The target was startled and began firing into the air, catching the attention of the nearby Federation patrol. What ensued was a short firefight, and Ogilvy watched the whole thing before attaching his rifle to his back and setting off downstairs. He got into his car and drove off to the New Eden Federal headquarters.
Ogilvy was greeted by the guards at the front doors. Upon entering, he headed for the soda vending machine before being intercepted by Pilkins. Pilkins was holding onto a collection of holonotes. "Ogilvy, look these over and head to the commander's office. You've got an assignment," ordered Pilkins in his less-than-threatening voice.
"Right away," replied Ogilvy. He knew better than to keep the commander waiting. As the elevator made it's ascension up the many floors of the building, he decided he might actually look at the holonotes. They were all regarding reports of strange cases involving looter infighting. Entire gangs have wiped themselves out with the remaining survivor of each gang having showing no sign of outside stimulus before their body shuts down entirely. As far as Ogilvy was concerned, they could all die that way; looters are looters. Ogilvy reached the top floor and read the holographic sign on the wall to his right. It read "Commander Ilupen". He knocked on the door at the end of the small landing once before opening it and walking inside. Commander Ilupen stood still, staring out his one-way window that covered %60 of the wall.
"Take a seat," said Ilupen. "Would you like to take a shot?"
"Derezin isn't my type of drink, sir," replied Ogilvy. He pulled out the chair in front of the desk and sat down, arms on his lap.
"Good. Because if you became an alcoholic, I'd have to send you to get harvested and executed." Ilupen turned to face Ogilvy with both his hands behind his back. His helmet retracted back into his chest plate. "If you read the holonotes, you'd know that looters are dying left, right and centre."
"A bunch of looters getting pissy over arguments isn't a good enough reason to call off a hit," Ogilvy stated. "There's more to it."
"Exactly." Ilupen turned around again to face the thriving city of New Eden. "I wouldn't care about dead looters even if they were my family, but when the same thing happens to SPEC-4 squads that I've sent to investigate, I get worried." Once more, he turns to face Ogilvy before sitting down at his desk, fingers entwined and elbows on the desk. "We assumed a metastreumonic force was behind this but our metastreum detectors couldn't find a signal large enough to have any effect on anything at all. This could only leave two possible perpetrators; E.Y.E agents taking action against us or a cyber-entity."
"So what do you want me to do?" asked Ogilvy.
"You'll find out what the hell is going on with my men and put an end to it," declared Ilupen. "So far the suicides have only been happening here in New Eden, so that narrows your search."
"I'll do what I can."
"Glad to hear it, Ogilvy," said Ilupen. Ogilvy rose from his chair and headed to the door. "Oh, before you leave, Ogilvy; remove your helmet. You're on Federal grounds. The only protection your head needs is protection from Aahmiah's lectures." Ogilvy tapped his neck on the left side and then the right. His left and right mouthguards slid to the back of his head, his visor pulled back over his scalp and the rest of the helmet slid down into the neck of the chest piece.
"Thanks for the tip." Ogilvy looked away and continued towards the elevator. He called the elevator and left the building. He approached his car and before he could enter, a hurried Pilkins ran towards him.
"Ogilvy," he called, "Aahmiah wanted to see you before you left. You should go see him now." Ogilvy showed Pilkins no acknowledgement as he returned to the front doors. The doors slid open and Aahmiah was already standing there. He gestured for Ogilvy to follow and he walked up to his office in the dispatch department. Ogilvy was hoping he had escaped the vacant concrete walls that make up the interiors of most Federal buildings for the night, but unfortunately, duty calls. Upon entering the room, Ogilvy was calmed by the pleasant smell of burning incense. Aahmiah was a profound Buddhist, a Dark Ages religion. On his desk, next to his computer sat a Chinese cat figurine complete with a waving arm and a large smile. Why preserve an extinct religion was beyond most of the Federal agents that resided in this particular station, but it was never brought up in conversation often. Even though Aahmiah believes in peace, he has no morals against shooting anyone on sight with his beloved 444K revolver. He carried it with him on all operations, he carried it around the home, and he carried it to funerals. He was as loyal to it as it was to him; as long as he gave it targets to fire at, it would make each hit count. It was a very beautiful relationship.
Ogilvy waited as Aahmiah rummaged through one of his shelves. He pulled out sheets, inactive holonotes and memory storages and put them all back. Eventually, he gave up and turned to his steel cabinet, the light of the sun protruding the polluted green fog of New Eden and onto the glistening metal. The gauntlet around his hand retracted itself as he placed it on a screen. The cabinet doors slid open and revealed not a collection of guns as many would expect, but a large collection of 444K rounds, each gently placed into speed-loaders and clustered in little steel bandoliers. He picked out six of them and inserted them into the compartments of his Federal SpecFor armour. "Are you preparing for a duel?" asked Ogilvy.
"No, my dear Ogilvy," Aahmiah replied in a soothing tone, "I am accompanying you on this investigation. If Commander Ilupen were kind enough to have told you, you would've known and not have left as quickly as you could."
"You can't blame a man for wanting to leave a building like this," said Ogilvy.
"Of course not. Cement walls could discomfort a psi-monk." It was common knowledge that monks trained in the arts of psi-powers were stress-tested in terrible conditions. Ogilvy gave a light chuckle and left the room, Aahmiah in tow. As they both reached the lobby, Pilkins got up with his hand out as though he was about to start a conversation. Ogilvy didn't gave him any acknowledgment, but Aahmiah pulled out his revolver and gave him a light slap across the face without looking at him as they both continued out the front door. Ogilvy got into the driver's seat of his car and Aahmiah took his place of honour in the passenger seat.
Ogilvy looked at Aahmiah. "Where should we look first?"
"We'll gather some Looters' sides of the stories at the nearby piss-foundry," said Aahmiah in a lightly humorous tone.
"Sounds like fun," replied Ogilvy in an entertained voice. Aahmiah nodded with a smile and as they both turned to face the front, their helmets reconstructed around their faces and they drove off.
-{Ogilvy Minorum: Monologue File #00029}
TIMESTAMP: 19/12/0013
I was an agent of E.Y.E before I became a fed. I received all the training and all the technology you could fit in a body that all initiates got. I turned on them when the internal wars became a distraction from our common goal: destroy the metastreum. Soldier that turn their arses on their own organizations are lucky to see the next day, but I was even luckier. I snuck out and deleted all evidence that I was there. Somebody had to take the fall for erasing me, so I pinned it on a Jian. I know it will fuel the war even further, but I don't care anymore. I am my own man; a man that the Federation pays thousands of brouzofs per hour of service.
{End Holonote}-