The Bunker
October 19
The following morning, Virgil found himself once again sitting in The Bunker's War Room. He'd had to wait for several hours for his superior to become available for Codec call, so while he waited he idly leafed through the intel that Balalaika had given him. While it was true he could hand that information over to the police and let them deal with Vertigo, somehow… that wasn't good enough for the teen.
If anything, he was probably being a little petty about his ruined date. The first real moment of normalcy he'd had since Alex "The Sequel No-One Asked For" Mercer had turned his life upside-down and inside-out, had been completely ruined by some drug-fiend hopped up on Vertigo's latest special sauce. More than anything, before he got the cops involved, he wanted a chance to get his pound of flesh out of the asshole who'd ruined his date, indirectly responsible or otherwise.
But of course, like any rational person who didn't waste their time on lip-service and platitudes, he was fine with being petty. Unlike self-righteous "heroes", he could get away with being petty over something "so trivial" because he didn't have the eyes of the world on him.
When Virgil had received the message from Balalaika, he noted down everything. Every word, every pronunciation, every utterance with specific emphasis. Anything and everything that might be of use was expertly notarized, and since everything was of use, he'd notarized all of it.
In particular, he was able to convey the location of Count Vertigo's headquarters, right down to the warehouse number.
"And you're sure this information is credible?" Re-l asked, virtually sitting across from Virgil in the War Room after he'd made his report.
"It came from Balalaika's own lips," Virgil replied at the conclusion of their conference call. "The woman wants Vertigo and his drugs off the street as much as anyone else. I choose to believe in the credibility of her intel."
" . . . Very well then," the woman replied. "You fulfilled the condition I set out, so I will keep to my word and grant you clearance to use the Nanosuit and any weapons you might require. I only ask that you act with discretion as you carry out your vendetta."
"It's only a vendetta if someone's been murdered," the teen found himself correcting. "Don't worry, I don't plan on making too much noise, and I won't leave a mountain of bodies behind either. Last thing I need is the chief of police breathing down my neck so I can never step outside again. I doubt he wouldn't notice after the way I showed such interest in the topic. I want to distance my civilian identity from this as much as possible. If anything, I'd like to arrange for an out-of-town alibi for my civilian identity; if at all possible."
"My superiors will be pleased to hear that," the woman replied, her avatar making a note to itself off-screen. "When do you plan to strike?"
"Well first off, I'm going to take a cue from historical ninja and get to know the lay of the land top-to-bottom, backwards-and-forwards. We could probably acquire the blueprints for that sort of building fairly easily, but unless we use a drone or something, there's no way of knowing what changes have been made to the inside since Vertigo turned the place into an over-glorified crackhouse," Virgil hummed. "After that, I intend to initiate my raid when Vertigo is at his most-vulnerable. From what Balalaika was able to learn, it seems that the 23rd will be the day that Vertigo plans on taking his garbage across county lines, likely to spread it outside of Bludhaven now that his special sauce has been such a hit with the locals. I've consulted Snake, and he says that fortifications in the process of shipping out product are weaker than most other times because everyone is pre-occupied with making the move before deadline. He was also largely insistent on pointing out that cardboard boxes were even more difficult to spot out-of-place since the only people who touched those things were people whose business it was to mess with them, because no-one wants to step on anyone's toes."
"And the presence of vehicles and contraband would make it much easier for the police to make a case against Vertigo," Re-l dictated.
"Especially if Vertigo himself is there," Virgil said leaning on the table before interlaced fingers, hiding the smile that pulled at his features. "After narrowly escaping Green Arrow in Star City, Vertigo's become a bit of a control freak, micro-managing everything his employees know and do. This may've kept him out of the police's line of sight, but he never counted on the actual mafia wanting him out of their turf."
"It seems you've made interesting allies during your interim in Bludhaven."
"That I have. Once I've done enough recon on the place, or at least as much as I can squeeze into the next four days, I'll hit Vertigo when he's least expecting it."
"That seems like a very sound course of action," Re-l hummed.
"However, given the nature of this mission and my lack of experience in non-asymmetrical warfare, I'm not wholly confident in my ability to carry out this objective on my own," Virgil said crossing his arms. "I'm not above calling for backup, but I'm not really sure who to trust."
"I suppose now would be as good a time as any to explain to you the roles the Freelancers will be playing in the Nanosuit's continued development, in addition to your future here at FoxCry."
"Ah, right. I have been glossing over that a bit," the brunette realized.
"In essence, the Freelancers are Crynet's attempt at creating super-soldiers through technology, rather than biological manipulation. That isn't to say the Freelancers aren't capable soldiers in their own right without supplementary equipment, but Project Freelancer strives to create excellence through absolute command of the battlefield through superior gear and tactics; the next iteration of modern warfare," the woman explained. "This in opposition to previous super-soldier-generating methods which may as well have been a pharmaceutical game of Russian Roulette or taste-testings for which Snake Oil won't immediately kill you."
"So basically… like Agent 007, only instead of spies, they're soldiers, and with more gadgets?"
"A crude metaphor, but not wholly inaccurate…" the woman hummed. "Some of the technology that Crynet creates and perfects will be distributed to the United States and its allies, while the best equipment will be kept in our own hands."
"So basically, you want to set it up so that C.E.L.L. will still get outsourced for pricey military contracts."
"Once again, not wholly inaccurate," the woman replied. Off-screen, she noted his elevated analytical skills, and conceded that it may've been due to SECOND forming more connections between his brain's neurons.
"Well, all this politicking aside, how will I know which Freelancers can do what?"
"That information can be found on the Freelancer Leaderboard," the woman stated as a stylized scoreboard colored black and blue with white font appeared on the teen's AR. "The Freelancers are all categorized by their respective specialties. Infiltration, stealth, sniping, assault, demolition, etcetera. It's important to have the right tool for the right job, but it's equally important to have the right person to wield those tools."
"Alright. I'll look over the available Freelancers in my cabin, try to get a little intel on the kind of building I'm going to be infiltrating," Virgil replied.
And hey, even if he didn't know how to get the blueprints, it wasn't like he couldn't get help from somebody else.
Ah, the joys of having an entire business model behind you.
He had government resources at his fingertips, so he was going to use them. No need to do it solo and get himself killed like Steve Rogers, god rest his soul.
Not like he could come back from how he died.
*VERTIGO: THE EXCISION*
"So… An army of supersoldiers at my fingertips, eh?" Virgil hummed as he sat in his cabin, looking at the Leaderboard he'd been provided with.
He was acquainted with some of the Freelancers, but only in an extremely informal capacity, and he only knew them by their codenames. The Freelancer Leaderboard listed their overall rank in descending order, their state-based codename, an Active/Inactive status, and an icon denoting their respective field of expertise. Page 1, and likely every page of the Leaderboard after it, consisted of 10 names.
Scrolling to the very bottom of the Leaderboard revealed that at-present, nearly twenty Freelancers were either Dead, KIA, or just MIA. Natural causes of death like home invasion, cancer, vehicular, and so-on were listed, but the circumstances under which the rest were either Killed In- or Missing In Action were redacted; something about lacking proper security clearance.
Realizing he wasn't going to be learning about how or why the other Freelancers died today, he scrolled back up to the Top 10, if only to see who was there before moving down the rest of the list.
1 \ CAROLINA \ INACTIVE
2 \ YORK \ ACTIVE
3 \ WYOMING \ ACTIVE
4 \ SOUTH DAKOTA \ ACTIVE
5 \ NORTH DAKOTA \ ACTIVE
6 \ MAINE \ ACTIVE
7 \ FLORIDA \ INACTIVE
8 \ CONNECTICUT \ INACTIVE
9 \ ALASKA \ INACTIVE
10 \ ARIZONA \ INACTIVE
"Huh… Didn't know I had so many of the Top Ten living under the same roof," Virgil hummed idly as he took note of their emblems.
Carolina's emblem was a star situated atop a horizontal bar, showing her Commander status; as was befitting of she who held the literal top bar on the Freelancer Leaderboard. York's symbol was a padlock, showing a proclivity for Lockpicking, both in analogue and electronic locks. Wyoming's symbol was a reticule, showing a proclivity for Sniping. South and North Dakota situated in neighboring spots of the Leaderboard had an emblem of a hooded figure in a skull-like mask, showing a joint proclivity for Covert Ops. Maine's symbol was a raised fist, showing a mastery of Close Quarters Combat.
Of course, it was on rankings 7 and onward that he lost all familiarity with the Freelancers.
Florida's emblem was a wire cutter and a severed wire, showing a proclivity for Sabotage. Connecticut's emblem was an overturned cardboard box of all things, not unlike the one he used before, revealing an affinity for Stealth. Agent Alaska had a dog's head –an Alaskan Husky more-specifically, big surprise- for an emblem, revealing superb Tracking abilities. Arizona's symbol was a climbing axe, showing a proficiency with Mountainous Combat.
Giving 11 and down a quick glance-over, he saw that the symbology to the side of their names and ranks was very intuitive. The symbols were easy-enough to understand at a glance, meaning you didn't need to be a rocket scientist to know who was good at what.
While detracting his previous assessment of having a quote/unquote "army" of supersoldiers at his fingertips, the numbers available to him were by no means unsubstantial. Hell, he had no intention of storming the beaches of Normandy like on D-Day and pissing through personnel like copy paper. If anything, what he'd likely be having the Freelancers serve as support for would be contextually closer to Operation Valkyrie.
Only with less failure.
Of course, because words like ACTIVE or INACTIVE could mean just about anything, he felt the need to ask F.I.L.S.S. for some context. The reason Carolina was listed as ACTIVE was because she was actively on business, the nature of which the AI was not authorized to divulge. Since this could get confusing, at least for him, he asked the AI to "filter" the Leaderboard when viewed through his console to use words like Available or Unavailable to show who was and who was not "available" for a mission.
After the AI complied with his request and altered the portrayal of the Leaderboard, Virgil got to work on the screening process.
Taking everyone who was Available into account, he was largely left with York, Wyoming, North & South Dakota, and Maine. He was markedly more-confident in his chances since all of them were within the Top 10 on the Leaderboard, and he was somewhat acquainted with them. Asking a complete stranger to help another complete stranger would be very difficult to do, especially since he didn't have much acumen to warrant confidence in his abilities. Asking a complete stranger for help in this context was like the n00b trying to ask a top-ranked to help them out on Multiplayer.
Jotting down some names on a notepad, the first person he crossed off the list of potential squadmates was Maine. While close-quarters-combat was almost assuredly a guarantee in the mission to come when Vertigo took notice to what he was doing, Maine's mission history painted an extremely graphic picture of what he could do to both women and men with those hands of his. Video footage showed Main snapping people's heads almost completely off with a single punch, and since he did not want a mountain of dead bodies piled so close to his doorstep, he decided that Maine was not the right choice for something that required any sort of… delicacy.
Also, the guy was built like a brick factory and it seems like the man couldn't be subtle if someone else's life depended on it.
Next on the list were North & South Dakota. While their specialization in stealth ops was definitely a boon for this sort of mission, especially because of their cohesion in team settings, South's mission history made him a little wary of bringing on the temperamental twin. Apparently, South had a somewhat annoying –to her superiors- habit of throwing out a perfectly sound plan in order to complete a mission as quickly as possible; whether this was because of outright impatience, a thirst for adrenaline, or a genuine desire to climb the Leaderboard had yet to be seen. However, this didn't change the fact that despite being a specialist in stealth ops, the woman got caught a whole damn lot; enough times for her superiors to debate whether or not to rescind her stealth ops certification.
In comparison, her older brother was a lot more level-headed. Mission history showed that getting caught was the last thing he ever wanted on any given mission, often being quoted by saying "getting caught makes a mission take longer than necessary"; this coming from a guy who spent three days in his sniper nest waiting for the opportunity to snipe a dictator from a third-world country. While an expert with a sniper rifle, North's specialty lied in being the spotter for on-ground forces from a high vantage point, and given most of the operation at-hand was slated to take place indoors, the teen wondered how-useful someone like North Dakota would be beyond initial reconnaissance.
He wasn't ready to discount "The Twins" just yet, but at the most it was a "soft maybe" on whether or not he'd call upon their services.
Wyoming, while now listed as Available, was also discounted from contention because he too specialized in sniper combat. Plus, firing anything even close to a DSG-1 would definitely tip off the police that someone was running around with a high-caliber long-range weapon; heat he did not want since he himself still had to live in Bludhaven.
With those four discounted, all he was currently left with was York. Like his specialty clearly advertised, the man could crack any lock, analogue or otherwise. While he relied on top-of-the-line, not-available-for-public-consumption military-grade lock pick guns for the analogue stuff, the man could peel apart electronic locks like an onion, and Vertigo would definitely have his doors locked down. Maybe the windows as well since his last place of business was raided by a man who used zip-line arrows on the regular.
All things considered, he considered the ability to get in without making a sound all the more valuable than leaving a mountain of bodies behind.
His console beeping a moment later, the teen's eyes lit up as another two Freelancers entered availability, agents Florida and Connecticut. Florida's specialization in sabotage would definitely be a boon in keeping Vertigo's trucks firmly parked where they were, but what he was most-excited about was having someone with an explicit specialty in stealth on the team. While it was true that North and South Dakota were stealth ops, Connecticut's specialty with stealth was refined to the point where no-one knew she'd infiltrated an enemy fortification, not even her superior officers, until after she'd finished.
That and he was curious to see if anyone else besides him and Snake used a cardboard box as an infiltration tool.
Immediately sending a recall notice for the recently freed-up Freelancers, the teen then opened up a word document and began preparing a debrief. Best to have everything he knew and wanted to do on a single piece of paper so everyone was on the same page. Especially because it was written down.
*VERTIGO: THE EXCISION*
The Bunker
October 19
The following day, Virgil had been able to arrange for some much-needed recon of Vertigo's current abode.
According to Balalaika's intel, Vertigo's operations were centralized to the docks south of St. Eustace Church, nestled between buildings on the north side of The Narrows. Situated right on the water and connected to the major thoroughfares by only a couple minutes, Vertigo could bring in supplies from both land and sea with relative ease, especially since security there was less stringent than at the Commercial City Dock Virgil himself had first arrived in Bludhaven at. Police reports had been able to confirm the presence of multiple armed men around the premises, but because it was private property, the owner was entitled to protect his property to such an extent.
Vertigo was really toeing the line on that one, but it was all perfectly legal to arm your property's guards. Especially because it was Bludhaven. It wasn't as storied as Gotham, but being right-next-door to it made people in neighboring facilities rightly paranoid.
Moving on… The building itself was innocuous in appearance, a dull gray warehouse with aluminum roofing and siding, with the bulk of the windows boarded up from the inside, anyone's view on the outside predicated on what the swiveling security cameras nearby were able to catch. In the back of the building were the loading bays for the vehicles, the surrounding buildings hiding them from sight until they turned out onto the street. The center of the building was dominated by a drug lab with a number of smaller prefab rooms situated around the perimeter of the main room, with a second floor above it with catwalks. Most-important of all however was the location of Vertigo's personal office, a more-fortified room against the back wall next to the fire escape.
As for how all of this intel was acquired, as it turned out, Otacon had been working on the Metal Gear Mk. IV in his off-time, this one designed for aerial surveillance.
Its chassis was classified as a "quadcopter", essentially a small aerial drone with four sets of rotary blades like a helicopter, the four acting together in such a way that a Tail Rotor was not required for lateral stability. Equipped with the same Stealth Camouflage technology as the Mk. II and III before it, the Mk. IV was able to buzz around Vertigo's stronghold almost completely undetected amidst the rush hour clamor, using high-spectrum radiograph technology to essentially x-ray the facility from almost every conceivable angle.
Of course, the battery life on it was total shit, and after it dropped dead on a nearby rooftop like a bird hitting a window, they had to scramble a retrieval team to get it back before anyone found it.
But all things considered, Otacon considered it a successful maiden voyage for the Mk. IV.
*VERTIGO: THE EXCISION*
The Bunker: Firing Range
October 20
Since Virgil wanted not to leave a mountain of corpses in his wake after the upcoming mission, the teen decided to make himself more-familiar with the Ruger Mk. II; especially since his time actually using it in the field was basically nonexistent given what happened in Washington.
Because he was firing darts instead of bullets, the weight distribution was way different between lethal and non-lethal varieties, so he wanted to learn the difference well-beforehand. In addition, because the bolt locked in place while firing, it made the Ruger largely incapable of rapid fire, so he needed to get the timing down so he wouldn't be fingering a locked trigger.
The dummy ammo was functionally identical to the real thing, so while he wasn't using live rounds, he was still getting in the practice he needed for his non-lethal rampage. If it could even be called a "rampage".
Sensing a set of eyes on him a while later, Virgil put down his firearm and turned around, coming face to face with a young woman a few inches taller than him, looking young-enough to be in her mid-twenties.
The young woman in front of him had pale skin, feminine features, brown eyes, and shoulder-length hazel-colored hair; the hair over the left side of her face was pulled back, while her hair on the right side of her face was brushed down slightly covering her eye. She was wearing C.E.L.L. fatigues so Virgil was able to see that while she wasn't as well-endowed as some of the more-busty women he was familiar with, she still had slight feminine curves, but definitely a decent amount of muscle, as fitting of someone in the military.
While he did find the woman in front of him attractive in the way that any hot-blooded man would evaluate her to be, his brain was telling him she had a girl-next-door vibe that made her off-limits, wildly contradicting what his raging teen hormones were telling him.
'Fuck it. I'm going to blame the nanobots on this one,' he said as his loins told him to screw her, while his brain was telling him not-to. Clearing his thoughts, as well as reminding himself to tell Dr. Grey that his counter-adrenalants were not curbing his teen hormones, he took a calming breath before the awkward pause went on for any longer than it had to. "Hello there. Do you need me for something?"
"So you're the new kid on the block, huh? The one who requested me for an upcoming mission?" the brunette asked.
" . . . Florida?" the teen postulated after a few moments.
"You're twelve-hundred miles off the mark," the woman said with a shake of her head. "The name's Connecticut. Friends call me C.T."
"What about Connie?" Virgil asked with a raised brow.
"Don't call me Connie. Makes me sound like a fucking kid," the woman glowered.
"Right, right, I'm the kid here," he said raising up his hands pleadingly. "You're not here to beat me up too, are you?"
"Nah, nothing like that," she said waving her hands, causing Virgil to let out a sigh of relief. "I'm not high-enough on the totem pole to get away with it anyway," she chuckled.
"Geez, that makes me feel so much better," Virgil grumbled. "So… You got here pretty fast."
"Yeah. Florida's a couple days off, so I figured I'd take the time to meet the new kid, see what he's calling us to do."
"Well, I'm not sure what you and Florida normally do, but as long as we don't blow our cover, it should be perfectly… relatively safe," he amended.
"As long as you don't expect us to storm the beaches of Normandy and I have reliable intel, I'm up for whatever needs doing," the woman replied. "So… The Ruger Mk. II huh?"
"Yeah, we're going non-lethal on this one," Virgil said as he began explaining the mission to his most-recent Freelancer acquaintance.
*VERTIGO: THE EXCISION*
The Bunker
October 21
"So… What's your beef with this Vertigo guy anyway?" C.T. asked the following morning as she and Virgil stood across from one another in the gym's sparring ring, rolling her arm at the shoulder and clad in workout clothes.
"Why do you want to know?" Virgil said taking off the punching mitts that C.T. had been hitting up to that point. "Is it critical to the mission?"
"More than you'd think," she replied as she took the mitts, and Virgil began putting boxing tape around his knuckles. "Personal investment, depending on how deep it goes, can make an agent perform better, or worse. Long story short, do I need to worry about you flipping your shit and breaking away from the game plan?"
"I'd like to think I have a cooler head than that," Virgil said delivering a jab. "As for why I'm motivated… I won't deny that it's somewhat personal."
"Somewhat?" C.T. quipped with a raised brow.
"You know what I mean," the teen grumbled. "The other day I went out on a date with a very good friend, and I felt like we were really going somewhere. But then as soon as we walk out of the movies, some doped-up drug-fiend starts rambling on about dragon testicles and attacks us. Suffice it to say, the date's atmosphere took a significant nosedive."
"So you're pissed because a drug-head scared your girlfriend?" C.T. asked with a raised brow.
"Not my girlfriend," Virgil muttered to himself. "Anyway, my friend being scared is only part of it. The other is that… Well… I live in this town," he said flatly. "And since I'm going to continue living here, I'd like for Bludhaven to be at least relatively drug-free," he said stubbornly. "Just one less thing to worry about," in the long run.
"Hmmm… Yeah, I suppose that's a good-enough reason," C.T. hummed. "You won't fly off the handle and abandon a perfectly good plan… Right?"
"Like I said before, I have to live here, and if the chief of police has any reason to think I've gone all vigilante on him, I won't be able to live here. The best course of action is to sabotage their trucks, tranq them all, and hand Vertigo over to the police without leaving a mountain of corpses in our wake," he stated. In response to this, C.T. simply gave him a flat stare, like she didn't believe what he was saying. "Don't worry. I can keep a cool head," he assured her. "And hey, even if I can't, I've got people in my ear to steer me back on the right path," he said tapping his ear.
"Well… At least you're better than Carolina in that regard," C.T. hummed appreciably.
"What does that mean?" Virgil asked with a raised brow.
"Between you and me," she said looking around conspiratorially before putting an arm over his shoulder and pulling him in close, "Big Red has a little habit of letting her competitive streak get the better of her. 'Nough said."
"Not even touching that," Virgil said holding up his hands. "Not with a ten-foot pole."
"Yeah, that's a good policy to have," C.T. admitted. "So… You nailed that down yet?"
"Nailed what down?"
"The girl. Have you nailed the girl down?" C.T. asked exasperatedly. "Or have you plain-old nailed her yet?"
"What?! No! I mean, I want to someday but… Where's this even coming from!? And why the hell'd I say that one bit out loud?!"
"Just curious is all," C.T. shrugged dismissively. "Heard you got some robot bits swimming around in there, so I was just wondering if you were as-much a sex-fiend as Dr. Grey said you were. Girl's gotta worry 'bout her own chastity after all," she said putting a hand to her heart.
"Dammit, Grey…" Virgil groaned as he palmed his face. "And also, no, I am not a sex fiend. My sex drive is perfectly normal for someone my age!"
"Hmmm…" C.T. hummed, drumming her finger on her arm. "Well, I read your file before I got here, so knowing all the shit you've been through, it's perfectly understandable you'd want to storm the trenches with how close you came to biting the big one," she eventually said with a shrug. "Seriously though… Manhattan? How the hell'd you survive out there?" she asked incredulously.
"By the skin of my teeth, and with a lot of help," Virgil sighed tiredly, a tired look dominating his face as he thought back to the horrors he witnessed. It may've only been a few weeks, but to him, it felt like years. "Had so much adrenaline pumping through my system since-then, I've been on meds ever since," he said shaking his pill bottle, taking one with a swig of water. "Seriously, what I saw out there… fucked me up for life!"
"I believe it too," C.T. hummed. "I saw the look in your eyes just-then. You are fucked up for life."
"Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence," he said raising his fists, putting an end to their conversation.
*VERTIGO: THE EXCISION*
The Bunker
October 22
"Remind me again why I'm doing this!" Virgil demanded of C.T. the next day after firearms practice, the teen presently draped across Maine's back and trying to choke him out.
A ludicrously-difficult task considering his feet couldn't even touch the ground.
"Because you might have to choke out a really big motherfucker before you can put the screws to Vertigo!" C.T. shouted, trying to cheer him on, a few of The Bunker's inhabitants watching as Virgil tried, and failed, to choke out someone ridiculously outside his weight class.
Hell, he wasn't even in the same school district as Maine.
"Bullshit I'd have to do something like this!" he growled. "I mean… maybe I would, but I'd have the Nanosuit on! The whole point of me being here is to test the damn thing!"
"Hm. Fair point," C.T. hummed as Maine reached over his shoulder and hauled Virgil over his head. Holding the teen above his head, he then began to twirl Virgil like he were a pizza. The teen screaming as he was being man-handled, a moment later he was thrown into the ropes surrounding the ring. The ropes stretching under the weight of Maine's throw, for a fleeting few moments Virgil felt his stomach pressing against his back. One painfully-short moment later and he slammed face-first into Main's broad, muscular torso with a deafening-
*WHAM!*
"Ooooogh…" C.T. winced. "That's gonna leave a mark," she said as Virgil collapsed into a boneless heap on the mat. "We got a doctor in the house?"
"Present!" Dufresne said chipperly.
"I meant a real doctor," the brunette said flatly.
"Aww," the medic pouted dejectedly, Caboose stroking the top of his head consolingly.
*VERTIGO: THE EXCISION*
"Fucking hell…" Virgil groaned as he came to a while later. "I feel like I hit a brick wall…" he said as he stared at the ceiling.
"Well, Maine can be pretty wall-like," a voice next to him chuckled. The ailing teen slowly lolling his head to the side, he blinked his eyes to see York sitting at his bedside, reading a book. "Hey there, kiddo. How you doing?"
"I feel like I should be asking for the number of the truck that hit me… But if a truck hit me I'd actually feel better. Oooooogh…" he groaned pushing the heel of his palm into his forehead.
"Yes, well, you should probably just sit back and relax. According to Ms. Meyer, your mission window doesn't open until tomorrow evening, and it'd be kinda embarrassing if you missed your own vendetta."
"It only counts as a vendetta if someone died first," Virgil argued, feeling like he'd had this argument before. "Anyway, what I'm really worried about is whether or not Florida gets back here in time. Vertigo's going to have all kinds of vehicles lined up to take his toxic shit out of the city, and I don't know how to discretely pull out a starter like I've seen on TV to keep those things rooted in one place."
"You could have Lopez teach you," the man suggested.
"Not on this short a timeframe. Besides, I can't even drive a car, let alone take one apart," Virgil huffed.
"Yeah, I guess that's work for another day," York hummed. "So, I hear you need me to open a locked door or two?"
"Yeah, the others are a little too… chainsaw-y for my tastes."
"Chainsaw-y?" York asked with a raised brow.
"A delicate mission like this is like brain surgery, and for brain surgery, you need a scalpel, not a chainsaw," the brunette clarified.
"Huh. Makes sense," York hummed. "You do still have to live in this town after the mission's done, after all."
"Yeah. Hopefully the missions I have to do in-town can be kept to a minimum," Virgil said laying back down in bed.
*VERTIGO: THE EXCISION*
The Bunker
October 23
"Geez, this came down really close to the wire, didn't it?" Virgil asked the following morning at breakfast.
"And I am pleased as punch to make your acquaintance," the man called Florida, or more-colloquially known as "Flowers", greeted chipperly.
Flowers was a tall athletic Caucasian man with green eyes, dark tanned skin, and wild highlighted brown hair. His casual attire consisted of a garnet shirt, black/gold pants, black sneakers, and a black/gold jacket, clearly showing a love for or alma mater from Florida State University. The interesting thing is that on the back of his jacket, which was draped over the chair beside him, had the image of an Orange blossom, Florida's state flower.
"So… Captain Butch Flowers…" Virgil said testing the name on his tongue.
"Please, just Flowers. Butch makes me sound like some kind of meat-head," the man chuckled.
"Flowers," the teen re-iterated. "You know how to kill a truck?"
"Pull out the starter. Or, if you really wanna stick it to them, shove a paper clip into the keyhole for the ignition. That'll really slow them down," the man chuckled. "The latter's nothing permanent, but it'll buy you a few minutes at minimum, more if no-one finds out about it beforehand."
"Yes, well, while I have no idea how many trucks Vertigo will have to get his poison out of the city limits, just know that I don't want anything leaving that lot. That means whatever vehicles you see, you take 'em out," Virgil said firmly.
"Well now, sabotage is my specialty of choice," Flowers replied. "So… What's the test pilot for the Nanosuit really made of?" he asked leaning toward interlaced fingers.
"You've read my file. You tell me," Virgil said as he reclined in his seat.
"You seem like… someone who's very strong. Spiritually. That every time you get hurt, you'll just bounce right back up," the man said with a smile. "You might not see it when you look in the mirror, but I think you're going to do great things, kid."
"I honestly don't think I'm all that strong," Virgil sighed tiredly.
"It's always the ones that don't that really are," Flowers said sagely. "Trust me, you have enough brushes with death, and it'll come to you. It came to me."
"Yeah, well with my shit luck, that'll probably happen sooner rather than later," Virgil grumbled into his food. "Anyway, I had eyes planted around Vertigo's stronghold after the Mk. IV did its first sweep. The moment he makes any aggressive movements, we'll know. For the time being, stay loose, but not too loose. I don't want my first sortie to die on me for my own selfishness."
"A commander who cares for his soldiers. I can get behind that," C.T. said with a smile as she raised her glass. "To us!"
"To coming back alive!" Flowers cheered.
"To not fucking up!" York added.
"To…" Virgil stopped, realizing how put-on-the-spot he was. "To the drinks I'll buy you once the dust settles."
"Yeah! I'll toast to that!" C.T. said with a grin. "I like the way you think, kid!"
*VERTIGO: THE EXCISION*
The rest of the day went off without a hitch.
Since sitting around in the break room and vegging out to TV wasn't really in the cards for them, given how much it bored them out of their minds, the sortie team of four decided to hit the firing range to "freshen" their hand-eye coordination. The four Freelancers practicing with their own choice of non-lethal projectile weapon, Virgil saw that his squadmates weren't in the top ten of the Leaderboard for nothing, as their shots were almost all on-mark dead-center, their grouping tight to the point that it made his own seem woeful in comparison.
Given he was the youngest out of all of them, everyone had their own advice for him. But… given how much their advice began to contradict with one another, Virgil decided to have Snake be his instructor instead. Especially since the Ruger was his weapon of choice in his last big mission before he got "too old".
Later on in the day when Virgil stopped by the armory to see what kind of non-lethal weapons he could afford the licenses for with his then-present GMP, he learned something interesting from North who, once again with his sister, was on armory duty.
"So… It's a cattle prod," Virgil stated looking at the innocuous-looking weapon.
"No. Cattle prods rely on dual surface electrodes to deliver high-voltage, low-current electric shocks, and those only work by poking," North corrected. "With the Humbler Stun Device, any part of it is capable of delivering a shock, and you don't need to hit exposed skin either."
"So… A cattle prod on steroids," Virgil said, still feeling a little underwhelmed.
"Lemme put it to you this way," South said boredly. "You can use it either to "motivate" people to go where you want, or flat-out put them on their asses. Similar to a taser, the Humbler shorts out the nervous system of whatever it hits, in addition to causing temporary loss of voluntary bladder control."
"Gross," Virgil retched.
"Funny~" South chirped happily.
" . . . You got problems," Virgil said reeling back slightly from the woman, realizing that if shit got loud tonight, in all likelihood he'd have to make a bunch of grown men piss themselves.
"Hey, you wanna go non-lethal, this is about as non-lethal as it gets," South hummed idly. "Rubber bullets might be rubber, but they can still kill someone."
"I assume you're at least familiar with how to use a baton?" North asked.
"North, it's a stick and a third rail all in one. I think I know how to swish-swish-stab with it," Virgil said flatly, thinking back to all the times he narrowly beat away Infected with whatever baton-shaped object he could find. With all the dead cops around, police-issue collapsible batons weren't all that hard to come by.
"Yeah bro, it's a stick, it's not a fucking fighter jet," the man's sister replied.
"I'm just saying… Don't hit yourself or any of your team with that, or you won't be living it down any time soon," North stated as the voice of reason.
"I'll keep that in mind. Hold onto four of them for me for tonight's mission," Virgil requested.
"Try not to get yourself killed," North said good-naturedly.
"Don't fuck up~" South chirped.
"Yeah, yeah, I hear ya," Virgil sighed as he walked out of the armory.
*VERTIGO: THE EXCISION*
The Bunker: War Room
October 23, 16:00 EST
"Alright listen up, we still have a couple hours until Count Vertigo's predicted timetable opens up and we move into action, so I want to get the pre-mission briefing out of the way so we don't have to worry about doing so in-transit and missing something," Virgil told the rest of his squad as they sat across from one another in the War Room. "Did you all read the on-paper mission briefing?"
"Long story short, you want to tranq Vertigo and all of his stooges so they get sent to prison on drug charges and the street drug Vertigo's no longer in circulation," C.T. hummed.
"That's the short of it, yes. The long term is that with Halloween around the corner, we're going to have kids all across Bludhaven out at night, and parents or no parents, it'll be better for everyone if they don't have to worry about a drug-fiend attacking them like I was," Virgil responded. "Plus, Bludhaven already has enough of a drug problem without bringing designer shit into the mix."
"Well, drugs are the Devil's cocaine," Flowers hummed.
"No, cocaine is the Devil's cocaine," York stated.
"Oh you know what I mean," Flowers huffed.
"Getting back onto topic, what questions do you have?"
"At what point do you want us to sortie?" C.T. asked.
"According to intel I was able to acquire from the Russian mafia-"
"Damn, kid. You've got balls if you can get intel outta them," C.T. hummed appreciably.
"-Vertigo will be moving his product out of the city after sunset once night falls, under cover of darkness," Virgil finished up. "I'd like for everyone to get their armor together after the meeting is over, and to have our armaments waiting for us in the vehicle we'll be using as transportation in the Car Pool. That way, we're able to leave at a moment's notice."
"Why not just pick one of the surrounding buildings and hide there until dark?" York asked.
"According to Snake, a stakeout in this context only pans out whenever we have sufficient cover to conceal our presence for an extended period, and Vertigo's dug into the surrounding buildings. Not in the sense he's got personnel waiting there, but the people who work in those buildings are under pressure to keep him informed of any changes. If we waited in the van for nightfall, we're likely to be accosted and chased off," Virgil answered. "I went over the insertion options with Re-l-"
"I bet you did~" C.T. purred.
"Mission! Insertion options for the mission," Virgil sighed exasperatedly. "Anyway, since we still have to live in this town, Re-l said the best option would be to have a van with a fold-out bottom drop us into a nearby manhole cover where we'll take the sewers to cover our initial approach. That way, we limit the chances of being seen."
"Ugh, the sewers? Really?" C.T. asked exasperatedly.
"Otacon had the Mk. II run recon of our route, and he's assured us that it's perfectly sanitary. As long you don't decide on a midnight swim or anything," Virgil said flatly. "That being said, I've requisitioned some air filters for our masks so we won't have to smell it, and a couple Deodorant Smoke Grenades to hide our scent once we're back topside."
"Well, that's one problem solved I guess," C.T. hummed.
"How do we actually get in?" York asked.
"There are three entrances. The loading dock in the back, the front door, and the side door on the west side of the building. There's a camera covering the west entrance we'll be using, but Otacon's assured us the Mk. IV will be able to hack it and swap out the live feed for a loop so you can pick your way through the lock," Virgil answered.
"And you want me to sabotage their trucks?" Flowers asked.
"That's right. We don't want Vertigo to know anything's up until the last-possible moment, so if at-all possible I'd like for you to pull the starters so they can't go anywhere. To that end, I'd like for C.T. to cover you at the back, tranq anyone who might see you, and drag them off to a dark corner somewhere they can't be seen."
"So I guess that leaves me with you?" York asked.
"Yeah. I'm not sure what kind of cloaking the rest of your armor has, so York, you'll watch my back as I use the Nanosuit to take point. Tranq anyone I miss as we make our way to the surveillance room. Once we take out their eyes, we'll have a bit more wiggle room, and we'll be able to act more aggressively in case anyone manages to raise the alarm."
"So I take it the Humblers are a last-resort?" C.T. asked.
"Yeah. Stick to the Tranqs as long as possible, but more-importantly, don't die. You only get one life and I don't want you wasting it on my personal non-vendetta."
"Kid, we deal with military dictators in third-world countries all the time. I think we can handle a drug dealer and his thugs," C.T. said dismissively.
"Hey, remember, we won't have Maine backing us up in case they've got a Meta on their roster," Flowers chided.
"Metas… That's right, I forgot about those," Virgil sighed. "Alright, change of plans. While non-lethal is our goal, don't neglect your own party favors. If they do have a Metahuman there and you can't safely incapacitate them, take 'em out, but only as a last-resort. And once again, don't risk your lives if you don't need to."
"Got it, got it. Don't leave a mountain of dead bodies behind," C.T. waved off.
"What do they have in terms of armaments?" York asked.
"Mostly sidearms, since automatic weapons are heavily regulated. Of course, doesn't mean they won't still have any. Laws have never not been broken, after all," Virgil stated. "At the very least, they don't have anything like sniper rifles, grenade launchers, or RPGs, so as long as we don't start an enormous firefight, we should have the upper hand. Which reminds me… What kind of body armor do the rest of the Freelancers use?"
"It depends on the mission at hand or the style of the Freelancer," York answered. "Maine practically wears power armor straight out of Fallout since his preferred style is to get up close and personal. And by that I mean punch them to death, and he only needs one or two swings to put an ordinary man down for good. At the minimum, every Freelancer is equipped with a variant of Wane Tech's Nomex Armor. The flexible armor we wear can stop most-anything but we'll bruise like hell. That's why we wear ceramic armor plates over it, to stop what the first layer can't."
"Armor's also equipped with OctoCamo to change color and texture as the mission demands, but most Freelancers have their own preferred colors," Flowers hummed.
"Relax kid, we might not have fancy futurepunk body armor like yours, but this isn't our first rodeo. You don't have to be a mother hen for us," C.T. said plainly.
"Well, you have to remember, it is his first command. I'm sure he'll grow out of it with a confidence boost or two," York said warmly.
"So what's on the agenda for this Vertigo character?" Flowers felt the need to ask.
"If any of you see him before I do, tranq him. Otherwise, he's mine," Virgil said flatly. "Still need to put the Nanosuit through its paces, and it won't improve if I don't stress-test it."
"Alright, but if it look like you're getting in over your head, we'll be here to back you up," York hummed.
"Hopefully it won't come to that."
"So how many exactly are we going to have to fight?" C.T. asked.
"We won't know for certain until Vertigo makes his move, but based on the dimensions of the building itself, estimates show at least less than thirty people. Too many and the police would catch on to them. Vertigo likely planned on having his stay in Bludhaven be temporary, so he's probably packed light."
"And how will the police be getting involved?" York asked.
"Without a warrant or probable cause they can't make any moves of their own. However, if gunshots were to come into the equation, that'd be a different story," Virgil stated. "I don't have any illusions that this mission will go off 100% without-a-hitch, so it's likely that someone will put in a call to the police once bullets start to fly. If they don't, I've arranged for Otacon to make an anonymous tip involving Vertigo and vigilantes."
"So hey, that reminds me, won't we still be put on the spot for taking the law into our own hands?" C.T. asked.
"As long as we keep the body count and collateral to a minimum, as long as FoxCry's involvement in city affairs is kept as a one-time thing, we won't have to worry about a major investigation. As long as we don't leave any fingerprints or DNA, all the better," Virgil answered. "Still, I'd like for everyone to pull out before the cops arrive. No reason to tempt fate. I do not plan on becoming Bludhaven's protector like some kind of superhero."
"Well, they do call it Covert Ops for a reason," C.T. hummed. "And hey, fighting in an urban setting for once means I won't have to do any hiking, so that's a plus. And it's right down the road from home sweet home, so even better."
"Yes, well… Let's try not to hurt ourselves right before the mission. If even one of you sprains an ankle or something pre-mission and can't participate, that throws our battle formation completely out of whack."
*VERTIGO: THE EXCISION*
The Bunker
October 23, 18:00 EST
True to form, the electronic eyes planted around Vertigo's base of operations were able to catch the quote/unquote "aggressive movements" that signaled the initiation of his plan to spread Vertigo (the drug, not the person) to the far corners of the state, maybe beyond.
Said "aggressive movement(s)" was the arrival of around a half-dozen moving vans. Innocuous enough that the police would ignore them at a glance, but with enough capacity that, if well-packed, would be able to carry a large amount of product. Packing it all into a semi would seem easier, but this way, even if one got caught, there would be others to make their deliveries.
Clearly, someone didn't believe in putting all their eggs in one basket.
Vertigo was being extra-careful, as was to be expected of a guy who got chased out of his first town by a superhero, but he probably didn't expect to have pissed off someone connected to a PMC hiding right under everyone's nose. For all intents and purposes, the element of surprise should've still been theirs.
Suffice it to say, the moment those vans pulled in to Vertigo's building, Virgil and other Freelancers accompanying him mobilized. Since they were already suited up, all they had to do was scramble to the Car Pool, pile into their van, and they were off on the express freight elevator.
*VERTIGO: THE EXCISION*
Bludhaven
October 23, 18:16
"Alright, we're here," their driver told them a short while later as their van came to a stop. "Step away from the center of the floor and use the hook provided to lift the manhole cover. You've got thirty seconds."
"Got it," Virgil said out the speaker of the Nanosuit as a portion of the floor of their black van folded into itself, creating an opening to the street below. York taking the provided hook from its mounting on the ceiling, he and Flowers proceeded to lift up the lid, C.T. dropping down into the manhole cover, followed by York and Flowers. Virgil, clad in the Nanosuit, was able to handle the hundred-and-ten-pound cast iron lid as though it were a paper plate, the end of the metal disc falling into place moments before the rear bumper of their transport passed over it.
"Well now, the Nanosuit's really something, huh?" Flowers hummed as Virgil stepped down the ladder and came down around them.
"Yeah. He handled that heavy manhole cover like it wasn't even there," York nodded.
"Meh. I could've lifted that thing on my own," C.T. said as Virgil's feet came down. "Though I will admit, you do cut a pretty impressive figure, kid," she said eyeing the teen's muscle fiber-clad form.
"I'm still the shortest person here," Virgil stated as he stood alongside the other Freelancers, now clad in their full-body armor.
Similar to Carolina's own armor, the other Freelancers had a flexible layer of black armor covering the entirety of their bodies, with reinforced ceramic plates covering most-everything sans their joints. The major differentiation between them was the shapes of their helmets, and their default armor color. York's armor color was tan with silver trim, C.T.'s was dark brown with white trim, and Flowers' was dark blue. York's helmet had a polarized gold visor covering the upper half of his face wth metallic plates forming a mask and a bill above his visor, a set of small lights located on his cheeks. Flowers' helmet had a polarized silver visor that was narrow at the ends and widened into a U-shaped curve near the center, the shape of his helmet more-rounded like an army helmet. C.T.'s helmet had polarized golden lenses in front of her eyes, the bulk of the helmet being blocky with black accents and rectangular fins colored silver lining her jaws pointing forward.
He also noted that their helmets gave their voices a slight digital voiceover, obviously to cover their identities. Unlike his which disguised his voice and made him sound like an adult, theirs only modulated them so that anyone recording them wouldn't be able to use it to sort their identities out-of-armor.
"Don't worry. You'll grow into it," Flowers said patting him on the back.
"C'mon. Just 'cause we've got Deodorant Smoke Bombs doesn't mean I wanna be in here any longer than I have to be," C.T. said nudging him forward.
"Gotta agree with the lady on that one," York said.
"Hey, wait up, my helmet's he one with the map!" Virgil said hurriedly.
*VERTIGO: THE EXCISION*
Bludhaven Docks
October 23, 18:27 EST
In the months leading up to this day, the area around Vertigo's hideout had turned into a bit of a shithole.
Not in the sense that there was garbage everywhere, but that gang presence in the area made the place practically a ghost town. The locals had already begun to steer away from the place, and it was a miracle unto itself that Police hadn't been able to find Vertigo. Of course, after getting chased out of Star City by the Green Arrow, it was understandable he wouldn't swagger through the place as-much as he would have.
And that's why, due to the lack of civil service in the area, no-one paid it any mind when a cluster of lamp posts around a manhole cover suddenly went dark, four shadowed figures crawling from the sewers and sidling up to a certain boarded-up warehouse.
"Otacon, we're in position and approaching the door. Scramble the first camera," Virgil ordered.
"You got it, Snake."
"I don't get it. If the Mk. IV can hack the cameras, why do we need to get to the security room?" C.T. asked, her voice imperceptible to anyone except those with Codec.
"Because the Mk. IV can only hack one camera at a time, and we might need it for other surveillance," York stated.
"You know, if one of you can flip the circuit breakers, we can probably slip around to the security room and the loading bay all in one go," Flowers suggested.
"And I think Otacon's intel actually managed to highlight where it is," Virgil nodded. "Alright you guys, we'll slip into this side door, and while I make my way over to the fuse box with Cloak, I want all of you to stay hidden and set your motion trackers."
"Sounds like a plan," York said as he took a set of lockpicking tools from his belt, and got to work on the door. "C.T., take the borescope from my belt and slip it under the door. Let me know when the coast is clear. Snake, keep an eye on our nine-and-three, use that high-tech visor of yours to see if anyone turns the corner, and Tranq 'em."
"Got it. Flowers, back me up. York, I want this door open in thirty seconds. Go."
"Well alrighty then, let's get this show on the road," York said as he got to work, the *click-lick-lick* of his picks intermingled with the distant sounds of traffic.
*VERTIGO: THE EXCISION*
Bludhaven Warehouse
October 23, 18:29 EST
'Just a few more crates and the shipment will be good to go,' Count Vertigo, no-relation to Count Werner Vertigo of Vlatava, thought with a sigh as the enormous stacks of product slowly disappeared. 'It was a pain, having to abandon everything back in Star City, but if I can just get a foothold in even one of the other major cities, it'll all be worth it,' the dealer thought to himself.
There wasn't anything overly special about the man. He had a completely ordinary name, Cecil Adams, and he had the sort of face one could easily lose in a crowd. However, it was his proficiency in chemistry and biochemistry that allowed him to rake in as much as he did. Enough money and he'd be able to buy the tech needed to take out any police, or Cape, that came after him.
*BWOOOOooooon*
"What the hell's going on down there!" Vertigo shouted into his radio the moment the lights went out.
"I dunno, boss. Looks like one of the fuses got tripped," a voice from the other end stated.
"Well go fix it!" Vertigo demanded.
"Got it, boss."
"And for Christ's sake, don't go alone!"
"Yes, sir."
"And give me a status report when you're done!"
"Don't worry, we will."
"And no sass!" Vertigo shouted angrily into his radio, cutting it off.
His heart racing, the dealer took out his sidearm, lifting the safety. His pulse pounding in his ears and smothering the quiet muttering of his fellow criminals down below, his eyes darted every which way. The shadows rose and flickered around him as his body trembled, each and every one resembling a caped hero in the shadows, ready to take him down and send him to prison like so many others before him. Finally, what felt like an eternity later, the lights in the warehouse began to turn back on, flooding the building with light.
"Vertigo, sir, the lights are back on."
"Good… Good," Vertigo let out a tired sigh. 'Guess it was a fluke after all,' he thought, relived. "Get back to your patrols. The night isn't over yet."
"Right, sir."
*VERTIGO: THE EXCISION*
*Pht-Pht*
*Thud*
"Two down," Virgil hummed into his Codec and he and York dropped the two criminals who'd come to check the fuse box. "Once York and I stash the bodies, I'll make my way up to the security room and take command. Once I do, break away from your hiding places to your secondary positions."
"Well, look at you sounding like a tactical leader~" C.T. chirped happily into her comm.
"It's just the most-logical move to make. I'm the only one here who can turn invisible," Virgil said as he and York stashed the bodies behind a couple drums of chemicals. "Don't make any unnecessary movements. If something gets knocked over and too many come over to investigate before I can slave the cameras, I won't be able to stop every gun in here from falling on you."
"Don't worry about it. I'm completely hidden."
" . . . You're hiding under that overturned box, aren't you?" Virgil asked as he crept up the stairs, slowly to mitigate energy expenditure, as he peeked over the side to see a single out-of-place box situated upside down.
"Was it that obvious?"
"It is. On my mark, back up so you're perpendicular to the wall. Right now you're too odd-out," Virgil ordered. " . . . Mark."
"Synch," C.T. replied as the passing guard's back was to her, the box she was concealed beneath shuffling slowly backwards until it came back-to-back with the nearby wall, effectively vanishing from view.
"Alright… Hold position for thirty more seconds, I'm almost to the security room," Virgil said into his comms, the line going silent as he approached the room on the second floor.
Out of the effective field-of-view of any nearby cameras, and in the blindspot of any passing patrols, Virgil let the Nanosuit's cloak fall, coming back into view. His eyes on a swivel, the Nanosuit's functional energy reserve slowly filled back up. Confident his motion tracker had enough energy to spare, he faded back out of view as he slipped the end of his borescope under the door to see two men on monitor duty. Their eyes blank and listless, the teen slowly raised his hand to the knob, ever-so-slowly turning it until the latch came open, the teen nudged the door open slowly with his shoulder. Nary a squeak to be heard and the two goons unattentive, the teen looked over his shoulder once more before slipping in, closing the door silently behind him.
"York, did anyone see me go in?"
"Nope. You're good to go."
"Got it," Virgil replied as he slowly rose to full height, the dim lighting of the room and his suit's own black coloration allowed him to stay hidden even while out of cloak. Ruger at his side, the teen looked around for something to create an opening with. Various small items highlighted with white chevrons as his eyes panned over them from behind his visor, his eyes widened as a lightbulb metaphorically went off above his head.
Grabbing a nearby pen, testing its weight in his hand, the teen held it up like a dart, flexing his arm once, twice, then three times before flinging it at a mug on the far side of the room. The pen striking the handle, the mug began to spin on its base, clattering and drawing the two's attention away from the screens and to the side. Ruger raised, Virgil fired a dart into the nape of the man closest to him, his partner remaining unaware of the change until he too was hit by the tranq. The two's eyes going wide, Virgil rushed up behind them and wrapped his arms around each of their necks, leaning back and pulling their chairs away from any alarms. The two flailing briefly, the drug's proximity to their brains incapacitated them a moment later, the two going limp.
"Otacon, you have command of the security room," Virgil said inserting a flash drive with a small antennae into one of the terminals.
"Alright. I'm in their systems now…" the hacker replied. "Looks like there's a secondary feed linked. Probably Vertigo so he can see everything from his office."
"Can you give Vertigo a looped feed for when he returns to the office?" Virgil asked, eyeing the drug dealer as he stood on a catwalk situated against the north wall.
"Yeah, I can do that," the man replied.
"Good, good," Virgil nodded as he turned his attention to the two goons.
Drawing large zip-ties from his combat webbing, the teen proceeded to lean them back to back against the wall, binding their wrists and ankles together. Once that was done, he laid the two on the ground back to back, binding their wrist and ankle bindings together so that even when they woke up, they still wouldn't be able to go anywhere. A couple strips of duct tape from a nearby shelf to the lips sealed the deal.
"The security room has been captured, I repeat, the security room has been captured," Virgil said to the other Freelancers. "I have Otacon linked into their security, and he sees what they see. Otacon, is there any way you can guide Flowers and C.T. to the loading area without getting them caught."
"I can have F.I.L.S.S. make a 3D model of the building and overlay it with the security feeds and the criminals' locations within. Once that's done, she can assign sight cones to each one and display them on everyone's AR."
"And how long will that take?" Virgil asked.
"For a Smart AI, probably a minute for a building this small, maybe less," York hummed.
"Just remember, the sight cone telemetry will become less-reliable as each pair of eyes steps into security camera blind spots," Otacon replied.
"Not if we widen the cameras' focus and zoom out," Sunny's voice said over the Codec.
"Hey, that's brilliant!" the man replied. "Hey wait a minute! You're supposed to be in bed!"
"Flowers, you'll need to move into position without the AR," Virgil said hastily. "I'm looking at the cargo hold feed and, it looks like they're three quarters of the way done on the vans."
"Wait, all of them?" C.T. asked with a raised brow.
"Apparently Vertigo wants them all to leave simultaneously so they don't get picked off like MMO players streaming into a choke point the moment they respawn," Otacon stated. "That's what it seems like at least."
"Flowers, where are you hiding right now?" Virgil said as he locked the room door before eying the feeds. "I'll guide you forward as best as I can, but we cannot let those vans leave."
"Couldn't we just call the police about this?" C.T. asked.
"Like I said before, the police can only get involved with a warrant or probable cause, and if we set off gunshots before enough of them are incapacitated, it could result in a bloodbath, or the vans might scatter," Virgil stated. " . . . If it's too dangerous to carry on with the plan, we'll abort the mission. I don't want you throwing your life away for such a dumb reason."
" . . . I'm hiding behind the table two tables north of C.T.'s current location. What does the approach look like?"
"You're really going to risk your life like this? For some two-bit drug dealers?"
"You said we're on a time crunch. This is your mission, your choice."
" . . . Move forward one table on my mark… Mark!"
*VERTIGO: THE EXCISION*
Vertigo himself had just retreated to his office, eyes locked onto his personal security feed of and around his complex. Being fed looped footage with variances in time and speed as-provided by a Smart AI had the man utterly fooled as the Freelancers outside did their work.
Once York had tranq'd a thug making his way to the security room to investigate, the man getting a tranq to the back of the neck moments before he realized the door had been locked, he and Virgil switched roles. As York guided Flowers toward his objective whenever eyes were no longer on him, the FoxCry agent known as "Night Snake" stuck to the shadows as was befitting of his moniker, vanishing entirely from sight whenever he delved into the light as he stalked patrolling thugs on the catwalk.
As each pair of eyes lulled into a drug-induced sleep, Flowers had more and more wiggle room to work with as he crossed the warehouse floor towards the loading bay. C.T. on the other hand was nowhere to be seen, as was her specialty. All that remained of her presence an overturned box she'd cleverly used to conceal her initial vanishing act.
At the moving vans, Vertigo's goons were arranged into pairs. One would stand inside the van and push the crates of product as far against the back and stack them as high as they were able, while the other would carry product over to them and leave them at the lip of the van. Because there were five vans, each with a pair of loaders and packers, it was too risky to tranquilize any of them because even if working in tandem, they'd only be able to tranq four with the first volley, another four with the second if they were lucky leaving two to raise the alarm if it hadn't already. The goons were so-focussed on completing their task they failed to notice the slow and steady decline of conscious personnel in the warehouse. Because Bludhaven lacked an established superhero presence like Batman to Gotham or Superman to Metropolis, with only police to worry about they'd grown complacent, and complacency was the greatest failing of an aware person.
Once Flowers reached the edge of the loading bay, a stack of boxes on the east side opposite him toppled over, briefly drawing the loaders' and packers' attention from the west wall, giving Florida just the opening he needed to slip out of the building and once more into the night air. Silently ghosting his way into the leftmost van, the man inserted a paperclip into the ignition slot, an act of sabotage he wouldn't be able to do with any of the others. It was extremely dangerous to move between vans, especially because the light from the warehouse spilled into the outside before giving way to dark, but thanks to the OctoCamo on his suit being able to emulate the color and texture of concrete, the man was slowly able to snake-crawl under each van, drawing his tools as he worked the undercarriage in practiced acts of sabotage.
However, it was as Flowers was getting to work on the third van that things went south.
"Hey, it's gotten quiet down there. Did you finish up or what?" Vertigo's voice asked over the radio, only for there to be no response on the frequency he hailed.
"Aww shit. It's about to get loud," C.T. bit out as Vertigo raised the alarm, the goons going for their weapons.
*VERTIGO: THE EXCISION*
Cue Red vs Blue Season 9 Soundtrack - Extraction
"Looks like there's no more time time for subtlety," Flowers hummed from his place on his back as he looked to his left.
Feet hastily hurrying to carry their owners to the driver's seats of their vans, sliding doors being drawn closed and locked, three of the vans, the third of which Flowers was still hiding under, sputtered lifelessly without their starters. The same could not be said however for vans four and five, which proceeded to turn over without delay.
"Not on my watch," Flowers said aloud as he drew an EMP Grenade from his belt, chucking through the open air between the third and fourth van.
The two remaining-active vans managed to pull away from the loading dock, front wheels turning to the right. A moment later however and an invisible pulse rippled through the air, frying the circuits of every unshielded device in the immediate vicinity. The area swiftly smothered in darkness as half the lights in the warehouse went out, the remaining two vans sputtered and then died, their momentum carrying them only a few more meters before the weight of their cargo stopped them dead.
"What the hell was that?!" one of the thugs shouted as drivers began leaving their vehicles. "Ow! What the fuck!"
"Agh! Hell!" another yelped as a dart hit his ankle.
"We're under attack!" another shrieked as he brushed away the dart from his ankle.
'Time to go,' Flowers thought as he rolled out from under the van he was hiding under. Wrenching open the passenger door for the second van, he fired two tranqs into the startled driver before dropping down and snake-crawling under it. Bullets grazing at his heels, the goons who shot at him from the loading dock soon received darts to the backs of their necks by another assailant, concealed behind a stack of cardboard boxes.
Elsewhere, York pulled the switch on the fusebox once agin, bathing the whole of the facility once more in darkness. While Vertigo's goons were robbed of their sight at the dead of night, the Freelancers all had night vision installed into their goggles, and were thus able to swiftly retake the initiative. Some of the goons attempted to reawaken those who'd already fallen victim to the tranquilizers, but York who had taken the high ground on the catwalks managed to put down any who tried. A few who got close to Flowers or even C.T. were struck with the Humbler batons, incapacitated and their pants wet with urine as they dropped to the ground.
Meanwhile, amidst the chaos going on a floor below…
"Dammit… Fuck… Shit…!" Vertigo growled angrily as he hurriedly turned the dial on his wall safe in an attempt to seize as much of his liquid assets as he could, the computer monitor behind him showing a progress bar as he attempted to extract as many of his research notes as he could.
While all the information was in his head, the fact of the matter was that the important stuff, like the chemical formulas that kept people coming back instead of killing them had been recorded in excruciating detail. If he lost his research, he'd have to start back over from square one, and there wasn't any guarantee he wouldn't be found a third time if he ran another battery of tests like he did before.
"Why can't I catch a fucking break?!" Vertigo growled angrily as he finally got his wall safe open, only for the lights to die around him. "The fuck was that? A blown fuse… or some kind of EMP?" he asked as he shot up, the room bathed in the dim glow of his computer monitor. "Heh… Guess it wasn't a waste of money to get this thing shielded. Or have the backup," he said seeing his computer still going strong. "Just a few more seconds and I'll be good to go," he said remembering the route to the getaway car he'd stashed in one of the neighboring buildings.
"Sorry, but you're fresh out of time," a stately-sounding voice with a synthetic lilt said, piercing the darkness.
"GAH!" Vertigo yelped as he hurriedly shut the safe door, briefly forgetting his left hand was still inside it until he struck his own wrist. "You! Who the hell are you?!"
"I'd think that the mask and the voice synthesizer would make it obvious I didn't want people to know my identity," Night Snake said, Nanovision taking in every perceptible detail of the room. "I suppose I should offer you the chance to surrender, though I doubt you'll take it."
"You're damn right I won't!" Vertigo shouted, raising his firearm and emptying the clip at the man who'd ruined his plans.
'It's so weird… seeing everything in slow motion like this,' Virgil thought to himself as the Nanosuit gave him accelerated perception of the world around him, Vertigo moving like he were bogged down in tar. Raising the Kinetic Aspis in front of himself, it easily absorbed the force of Vertigo's volley until his magazine had run dry.
The moment Vertigo's free hand went for his spare magazine, Virgil let the Kinetic Aspis fly; first into the wall on his right, before rebounding into the man's exposed flank taking the wind out of him. The man sent tumbling sidelong across the room, pistol clattering out of his hand, Virgil slowly strode around the desk to confront his nemesis.
Not arch-nemesis. He wasn't a cape-wearing yahoo who looked at man vs man scenarios in such abstract, asinine, self-indulgent terms.
"Go to hell!" Vertigo shouted as he pulled a gun from an under-the-desk holster.
Maximum Armor
The Nanosuit's epidermis gathering together in clumps to form scales which stood on end, Vertigo's second volley bounced harmlessly off the Nanosuit's outer layer. Vertigo's eyes went wide as the now-flattened bullets fell to the floor, totally useless, jaw hanging open.
'Guess they did something right with the Undersheath's gel layer,' Virgil thought idly to himself as he scratched at his stomach, not feeling any of the beating or bruising that came with the Nanosuit's armor mode before.
"What the hell are you?!" Vertigo demanded as he threw his gun at the shadowed figure's visor.
"I'm the guy who's gonna take you in," Night Snake said as he brandished his Humbler. Vertigo shooting up and fumbling for the first thing he could grab atop his desk, the man seized hold of a letter opener. The dealer aiming to stab his attacker in the eye, Night Snake's arm shot up, the Humbler connecting with the letter opening causing a discharge of electricity to hit his hand, causing the man's right arm to go limp.
"Not if I have anything to say about it!" Vertigo said drawing a pair of conjoined syringes from his coat. Flicking off the plastic guards on the twin needles with his thumb, he dove forward aiming for his opponent's neck. Virgil's Nanovision-aided eyes catching sight of a suspicious yellow fluid in the syringes' chambers, it became plainly obvious not to let that stuff into his system.
Speed Mode
Vertigo's movements slowing to a crawl once again, Night Snake lashed out with the blunt of his Humbler and struck upward, catching the criminal's wrist with a *POP*. Vertigo's double-syringe flying up into the air, his eyes following it, Night Snake's free hand lashed out in a heel strike that caught Vertigo in the sternum, completely emptying the air from his lungs and flinging him backward. His back meeting the wall of his office, the man scrambled for the window leading into the fire escape. Before he could crawl out however, the man let out an agonized squeal as the electrified end of the Humbler struck him right in the crack of his buttocks, his body straightening from the electric discharge before his limbs turn to jelly underneath him, the man flopping down onto the floor like a dead fish on land.
"Too slow," Night Snake said as his perception of time returned to its original 1:1 dilation. Rolling the now-paralyzed Vertigo onto his back, the super-soldier twirled Vertigo's familiar implement in his hand. "Hey Vertigo."
"Wh… What…?" the drug-dealer bit out with as much strength as he could muster.
"Have a taste of your own medicine," Virgil said flipping the double-syringe around in his hand, a drop of fluid dribbling out of each "fang" as he pressed the depresser.
" . . . Really?" the man asked incredulously. "You couldn't think of anything better to use as a one-"
The man's utterance of "-liner" was cut off as the ends of the double-syringe were jammed into the junction between his neck and shoulder. The plunger depressed before he could protest, the man received a full dosage of his newest cocktail, and moments later was convulsing wildly, his head jerking erratically to the side as his eyes rolled up in the back of his head.
"Mission accomplished," the hunter sighed as the Count met his end.
Probably.
There was a perfectly good chance the OD wouldn't actually kill him.
"Hey Snake, hate to intrude on your little victory lap, but you've got incoming," Otacon chimed in over the line.
"Reinforcements?" the hunter asked as he retrieved his shield.
"No. Police."
"How long until they get here?"
"Three, four minutes tops," the man replied.
"We'll only need one to vanish into the night," the super-soldier replied. "But first…" he hummed as he eyed the still-open wall safe behind Vertigo's desk. "I need to make a little withdrawal."
"Ignore the gold bars. Those things are fucking heavy," C.T. said over the Codec.
"Who the hell trades entire gold bars for drugs?" York asked incredulously.
"Oh, you'd be surprised," Flowers chuckled.
*VERTIGO: THE EXCISION*
The very moment that Virgil and the rest of the Freelancers slipped away into the night, the BPD flooded in from around the block, cars barring every possible exit point. Officers in blue following behind the SWAT, the BPD was sighted with a complete and total devastation for Vertigo's employees, the lot of them either completely laid-out, electrocuted into near-paralysis, or just-coming-to in time to be arrested.
Vertigo was found nearly overdosed on his own product, and from the bruises in addition to the state of his office it was obvious there had been a struggle of some kind. In addition to the data they'd be able to later extract from his hard drives, which would go a long way in treating those who'd almost killed themselves using the latest designer drug, other than the spent cartridges and tranquilizer darts, all other evidence pointed towards Metahuman involvement; no other body armor on the market could so-completely flatten a bullet at nearly point-blank range.
Still, it seemed as though the motives for Vertigo's mysterious assailant would remain in question. While the man's wall safe was in fact open, there wasn't any way of telling for certain whether or not anything had been taken, because the possibility existed that the contents of the safe had been left untouched on the happenstance that what the assailant was looking for wasn't found within.
With Count Vertigo and his employees basically handed to them, the BPD arrested the lot of them for processing on charges of illegal possession of automatic weapons, as well as the possession and/or distribution of illegal narcotics and drug paraphernalia. In the following days, all traces of Vertigo –the drug- in the warehouse would be incinerated, and the liquid assets seized added to the BPD's own budget at the end-of-year to cover any additional expenses like armor, weapons, or cars.
Even if only for one night, Bludhaven was just a little better off.
*VERTIGO: THE EXCISION*
Phew! Glad that's finally over. The production of this arc definitely dragged on for longer than I'd intended, but inspiration and motivation to write came in spurts, and the final surge of inspiration in the final act really made it all worth it.
For future missions, now that the groundwork has been laid out, instead of having to step-by-step it every time like here or before the "Hulk Hunting", now that you, the readers, know how Virgil prepares for missions, in future missions I can more or less abridge the pre-mission prep and get right to the good bits. Also, at the present, Virgil is still "green" and needs training. In the future, he'll already-be skilled-enough to carry out his missions so I won't have to elaborate upon his pre-mission training montages because now (or rather, then), he isn't an angry teenager with a chip on his shoulder who is reliant on his super-suit to not die, but someone who can carry-out his missions with the same efficiency as Solid Snake without a ridiculously over-powered sci-fi battle armor suit.
The short of this is that basically, future arcs will get to the "meat" much faster and not drag on for so long. No pre-mission arcs, just straight to the mission, and any interpersonal character development or dialogue will be its own chapters.