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Extremis Malis, Extrema Remedia

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Winter ,2020

January 3rd

Brooklyn Heights, New York City


Davis' eyes snapped open, the digital pings sounding off from his smartwatch and waking him up instantaneously from his nap. He knew what the pings meant. The expectation that one day he would hear that all too familiar sound kept him from sleeping peacefully, ongoing chaos and violence outside my Brooklyn apartment notwithstanding. Part of him wanted to just close his eyes and just hope it would disappear, like as if everything happening was just some horrendous dream. The other parts however, were screaming at him to press that button.

The dilemma in his mind played out like a literal angel and devil sitting on each side of my shoulders and arguing over what he should do next.

You don't have to do this! It's fucking biblical out there! You can just leave everything behind and wait out until this thing blows over! The government can go to hell, that cash you got are all taxpayers money anyway. It belongs to the people, man! Well... People meaning you, since there's no one around to complain or anything. The devil hissed.

Don't listen to him! The angel would retort. It's your duty, it was what you were trained to do! Where's that patriotism you showed to the interviewer during that government scholarship application? The feds paid you an extra thousand bucks on top of your day job, every month, for 2 years! WHAT WOULD YOUR MOTHER SAY, FOR GOD’S SAKE?!

God fucking damn it. I hate my conscience. Davis groaned mentally. Knowing that he would regret it for the rest of his life whether he pressed that blinking orange button on his damned smartwatch or not, he got his ass off the bed and carefully put on his Augmented Reality contact lenses and wireless earpieces. Taking a deep breath, Davis pressed the button.

Instead of exploding and Killing him, thus saving himself the hassle of going through whatever crap he would have been expected to do, something akin to an orange holographic wave pulsed from his body and spread throughout the entire room. Bits of lines and digital confetti sprung from thin air and covered any and every object in the room like as if it was scanning them all.

"ISAC intelligent Operating System active. Connecting to local Division network. Please standby." A digitized male voice sounded off. Davis let out a breath of relief at the familiar voice. At least it was working. The training program of the Strategic Homeland Division, or The Division for short, had prepared agents on how to operate the system. Back then, the trainers told them it was still in Beta testing. Now, he was eager to see the full version in action. Not because he loved tech in general, but because what it could do probably would save his life in the upcoming weeks. Whether that was good or bad thing, he wasn't sure if he was honest with himself. He didn't want to die, but then again living in this shitstorm wasn't actually much better either. Oh well...

"SHADE tech synced. ISAC is now online. Welcome Agent Davis. Playing your activation briefing now." The voice announced.

"Out of the frying pan, into the fire." He mumbled. It was do or die now. Nothing could change that. All of a sudden, a holograph appeared before him together with a whole list of accompanying pictures and snippets of news reports appeared in mid-air. The aeronautical engineer smiled a little. No matter how many times he practiced using the AR contacts, the 3D holographic technology still amazed him. Wow, this surpasses anything in the civilian market! If the private sector got hold of this, everyone would have a field day.

"This is an emergency transmission to all Division agents receiving this message. The ‘Green Poison’ pandemic has reached critical levels. As far as we know, your area's federal and state departments and agencies save for a few have collapsed. Thus, the reason you are now receiving this message. Therefore, on my authority as the President of the United States of America, Executive order 51 is now in effect. The Strategic Homeland Division is now Operational."

The voice was unmistakably the President’s. Davis felt a twinge of sympathy for him, because it was his last term and now he had to deal with all that crap before stepping down. Not that he was a Liberal or a conservative by any means, he just didn’t care enough to take sides and took the ones which held most to his own belief system at the time.

"All Division agents are to link up and report to your respective section commanders in your city or state to receive further instructions. You have been trained and equipped to handle this type of scenario over the years. Now is the time to use it. Your overall objective is to restore order and rebuild society on together and on behalf of the government by any means necessary.

Your authority and security clearance has henceforth been upgraded and now supersedes any other operative, agent and/or federal employee in the field. Before moving out, make sure you have your standard issue weapons and equipment that was handed out to you before your inactivation. Upon the ending of this transmission, your profile will be activated and the RFID GPS tag in your armband patch will broadcast your signal to other agents in the network.

The citizens of the United States of America are counting on you. Desperate times call for desperate measures. Godspeed agents, and may God have mercy on the United States of America."

As soon as the message ended, Davis stood on top of his bed and ripped the knock-off Van Gogh painting hanging on at the top off the wall, revealing the safe he had installed two years ago. Opening it, he pulled out the familiar black suitcase emblazoned with the SHD logo on the top. Placing his glowing smartwatch near the center lock, there was a beep followed by a low whirring before the lock snapped open; revealing all of his Division issued gear: Sling bag with waist strap, check. Beretta M-nine pistol with thigh holster, check. Navy MP-five sub-machine gun with suppressor and red-dot sight, check. Extra magazines, check. Urban camo vest kevlar soft plate inserts, check. Clear lens ballistic eyewear, check. Finally, supplies of N-ninety five particulate masks. Double check. Couldn't be too careful these days. Dying through sickness would have been such an agonizing way after all. Most importantly, it would NOT be cool. If he wanted to die he would rather go down guns blazing. So there.

He hastily put them on as soon as he could on top of his inner wear. It was now in the middle of winter and snow had would just not stop falling. Hence, he made sure to wear shades of black, white and grey to blend in with the urban surrounding as best as he could. Once locked and loaded, he headed for the door, pulled out his pistol and leaned against the wall right next to the door. It was time to see how good SHADE tech really fared.

"ISAC, pulse." I spoke, softly but clearly.

The familiar orange holographic wave pulsed from his body and flowed over and through the floors, walls and ceiling in search of life signs to mark and highlight. Within seconds, a number of marks with directional arrows within his view pointed towards their locations above and below him. They were marked yellow, which meant they were most likely unarmed civilians. He had to give credit to the software engineers. This stuff was amazing! He could not only see their locations, but also their silhouettes through the concrete. A few were still going about their business. Some looked like they were scared shitless, holed up inside their apartments, trying to make a little noise as possible. But for the most part, majority of the apartments were empty. He would have given them some of my ready to eat MREs, but the mission came first. Getting out the door, he worked his way to the ground floor and switched to my sub-machine gun as he neared the entrance to the streets.

"ISAC, scan for contaminants."

"Scanning... Immediate area is safe." Came the reply.

Great. Which meant he didn't need to waste his mask after all. Taking a deep breath, Davis turned the handle and opened the door. A blast of cold air greeted the exposed portions of his face as he stepped outside; his weapon at the ready in case there was something or someone waiting for him. Fortunately, or unfortunately, instead of finding a horde of reanimated zombies, which he was definitely not expecting by the way, there was nothing but empty streets all around. He had to admit that the sounds of an empty street besides the howl of the wind sent shivers down his spine. It was… disconcerting to say the least. Nevertheless, he had to press on and contact his colleagues. Taking a hunch, he made his way towards the piers.

Strolling down the street with his weapon at the low-ready, he kept a look out for any less than friendly individuals. But so far it was nothing but stray dogs and the occasional passer-by who would bolt at the sight of a well-armed person. It wasn’t surprising to say the least. 

"ISAC, scan nearby frequencies for any agents." Davis ordered.

"Scanning." ISAC replied. "Agents identified. Coordinates and communication frequencies uploaded."

"Can anyone hear me? This is Division agent Davis Kwan. If anyone's hearing this, please respond! I've been recently activated and making my way towards Brooklyn Bridge Park. We can rendezvous there."

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"Fuck, man this is bad." A scared voice said, the deep local accent giving way to the same scared shit George Buckley had heard a thousand times, on a thousand men from South America to Africa to the Middle East; language, culture, it didn't matter. When a man was about to die he always sounded the same. 

Laying with his back against the wall a young man held his gut, his dark skin paling as the dark red liquid pumped from his open wounds. He was an unremarkable youth, wearing a bright red winter jacket and loose fitting jeans, a pair of tan work boots covered in blood stood out against the pink snow and cheap looking shotgun sat across his waist. "Buck man." He whined, his eyes tearing up as he looked up at the older man kneeling down in front of him. George "Grayson" Buckley had seen this scene more times then he would like, and his hard expression was mostly hidden by a pair of large dark sunglasses. "I'm sorry, kid." George said, his voice like gravel doing it's best to soothe the younger man. It wasn't long after that the young man's eyes faded, his stare becoming that eerie empty it always did.

The young man was no soldier, his appearance leaving little doubt of that. George had been trained throughout the years to make use of locals to bolster his own force, and he had trained hundreds of poorly educated men to fight, and often die, for a cause he had convinced them they cared about. The dead boy laying on the street was just another, a local whom George had trained, equipped and sent against men better trained and better equipped. He wasn't the first George had trained since he had been activated, and he doubted the boy would be the last. 

George stood up, grabbing a handful of snow and wiping his blood stained hands as he did. George Buckley looked like a relic, his Russian Soviet era green jacket standing out against the grays and whites that was Brooklyn - to say nothing of his red shemagh. A keen eye would find other oddities on the old man, the 'web' gear he wore over his jacket which held his extra magazines, grenades and other tools an antiquated foreign design, likely South American. His boots were standard issue US Army, at least they were during Vietnam. A smart watch stood out stark against his old school attire, as did the weapon slung against his chest. 

Looking like a mixture of an AR pattern rifle and an MP5 the Sig MPX was a decidedly cutting edge sub-machine gun, showing just a subtle hint that George Buckley was not quite the relic he appeared to be - though the lack of optical sight was decidedly old school. Gripping the suppressed firearm George turned away from the dead boy, stalking down the streets like a proud old lion. Almost as soon as he had begun he stopped, his watch pinging his ear piece - SHD Agent nearby. Seconds later the radio frequency opened up, a young man's voice asking for rendezvous, a newbie if his transmission was to be believed.

"See you there, kid." George responded, a subtle bemusement present in his tone. Without another word George stalked toward the park, his stride a little quicker then before. 

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Merrick had been sitting alone in the modest apartment he rented above the small bar in Hell's Kitchen where he worked; the lights off, listening to the sounds of chaos outside. A bottle of Johnny Walker Blue Label sat on the kitchen counter in front of him, waiting to be opened. Smoke drifted from the cigarette held between his fingers, the soft glow at the end eerie in the darkness. He had quit smoking years ago, save for special occasions. The end of the civilized world seemed like a good enough reason for him to indulge before he was called to face it.

The former Ranger had been wearing his contacts during his waking hours for days; knowing full well what was coming. Ever since Dark Winter, they had been waiting for a situation like this. Waiting and praying, though he had never put much stock in the latter. But he did believe in the old boy scout motto; be prepared. It was part of the reason he had joined the SHD when they had approached him all those years ago. For over a decade now, he had prepared for the crisis he knew would eventually come; even if he could not predict what form it would take. Now as his smart watch pulsed with light and sound, he knew what he had to do.

ISAC booted up in no time, and he was soon greeted with the same message that hundreds of others would also be seeing. He listened to the voice of the president and internalized the important details. The Green Poison. Executive Order 51. Restore order and rebuild society by any means necessary. At the very end was a reminder; that the American people were depending on them. Unnecessary. They all knew what their task was. 

Kruger put out his cigarette in a nearby ashtray before twisting the lid off of the bottle of whiskey; and poured himself two fingers into a plain tumbler. He downed the amber liquid in one gulp, enjoying the burning sensation that trailed down his throat and bloomed in his chest before he got up. As he walked to his bedroom he ordered ISAC to scan for contaminants, silently pleased when the surrounding area came up clean. He opened his walk-in closet and placed his hand on an innocuous section of wall. Pushing in, a lever clicked, and the hidden panel slid away to reveal a safe, which he opened by placing his watch in the center.

His gear was simple, but designed for maximum efficiency. Simple, warm clothing, and the latest generation of tactical vest accounted for his attire. A backpack with three days of rations, a small medical kit, a thermal blanket, and water purification tablets and spare ammo. An M4 carbine and an M1911 handgun made up his main armaments, with a few knives and grenades rounding it out. A particulate mask and filters where the last part of his kit.

Scanning for frequencies as he got kitted out, and it wasn't long before a slightly panicked sounding voice came over the comm. The poor guy sounded like he'd been roused from sleep, so he didn't take the breach of protocol too seriously.

"Callsigns only on the radio. I'll rendezvous with you at the park. Fiver out."

With that, he walked out of his apartment, and with one last fond look at the life he had built, left for the Brooklyn Bridge.

 

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Amy sat in the building she called home. It wasn't much of a home since she barely used it but it was still the placed she slept the most, ate the most and enjoyed the most. Shitty rundown building made up the most of what she used. It was one thing to be forced into a place that isn't your home but to do it of one's own free will is another. Despite being in her own home she was always prepared. She always had her contacts in and her backpack with her whether she was out hunting or when she was out 'hunting'. It wasn't long before she saw her watch and backpack glow and with a heavy sigh she went to her bedroom.

Quietly entering her room she walked in her closet and opened the hidden panel in the back. Slowly sliding out a couple cases, pulling them onto her bed. With a few flicks she opened the cases and put together her guns. They were far from standard issue of what the SHD gave her. These were the only guns she ever used and needed. Two CZ 75's one equipped with a flashlight and a Dragunov sniper rifle, 1963 make, used by the soviet union. All the while she put them together she heard the President talk to her and all the other Division agents. "Yes sir Mister President. Green Poison. Executive Order 51. Do this, do that. Shoot these people, shoot those people." With a huff she stood up and walked out her house before walking the streets.

Upon exiting her house, she smelled the fresh cold air and walked down her street towards the Brooklyn Bridge Park. It was the most obvious place they would rendezvous seeing as everyone in city knows it. She listened to the comms and heard three people speak. One agent used his real name, another simply acknowledged that he's coming and the last sounded professional. Too professional. The person going by the callsign 'Fiver' was most likely a soldier. A moment of silence on the comms from her end before she finally talked. 

"Jackdaw. See you there boys." It wasn't long before she saw the park as she lived only two streets away from. As she neared it, she pulled up her scarf over her mouth and on that scarf was a bird, a Jackdaw, on the front for all to see.

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Boomstick was in her perfect world. She had long held on to the world view that the strong ate the weak, and after the Green Flu broke out, it proved her point to the T. It could not have been any more perfect; the living were forced to either huddle together in large groups for protection like prey, or wandered alone through the city like apex predators. Boomstick was deep in the latter category, and she had made sure that she was ready for the day something like this would happen; it was only a matter of time. The world was getting too bloated with living people. Natural resources were running scarce, and people were being forced to share what was left. Boomstick did not wish to share. She had no desire to share. 

She went through her inventory once more. Eight seeker mines, enough battery in her tactical pulse scan to last a few more days, and thirteen grenades. Boomstick had been stocking up on those; they were endlessly useful at causing chaos, all while making sure the enemy would look every which way but her way. She picked up her assault rifle and inspected it for dirt; an elegant ACR-E with custom bolt carriers that allowed for higher rates of fire, and a slightly longer barrel for sniping if required. Topping it was a 3.5x ACOG scope, eternally useful for landing the occasional headshot. Seeing a small spot where the gun oil had dried, she took out a small brush, dipped it in the oil, and methodically applied it to the barrel. Rust had no business on the rifle, and she knew full well what could happen if rust was allowed to creep in. 

Right next to her was her Benelli M4 Super 90 pump action shotgun, a weapon she became intimately familiar with during her time busting down doors in the army. She had grown rather fond of it, admiring its weight, accuracy and, perhaps even more, its sheer firepower. Nothing beat a shotgun in close quarters gun combat. Each shot fired in a short range was bound to hit something, making the follow up shot that much easier to land. 

Lastly she checked the number of clips she had left of her H&K P30L. The hefty pistol felt good in her hand, and the kick was, while noticeable, still very much controllable. Realising that she was running low on 9mm bullets, she packed up her items, put on her mask, and headed out. Exiting of the room she holed up in for the night, Boomstick looked around. There was little activity around her immediate area; other than a few scavengers out searching for food and water, there was no movement. Looking at her wristwatch, she turned the clock face 45 degrees to the left and pressed the crown. This caused the pulse to activate, sending information to her Heads Up Display in her contact lenses. Spinning around she noticed..

Movement. Two blocks. "JTF. Huh." 

It was time to stalk her prey.

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Staring down the scope of her TAC-50 sniper rifle, fine tuning her position on the roof top. Taryn let her fingertip brush lightly against the trigger of the massive 50 caliber sniper rifle, the butt of the rifle pushed snug into her shoulder like a baby in its mother’s arms. Pulling away from the scope her eyes scanned over the SHD issued watch that have stayed secured on her wrist from day one of her Division training.

With the perfect measurement of the weather, calculated precisely where it couldn’t interfere with her shot. Adjusting the buttstock of her rifle in her shoulder, her green orb moved back into place of the scope. More than fifty meters out located in another skyscraper stood her target, a man dressed as though money wasn’t a second thought. According to her employer now, he was everything but wealthy. Money was money in her eyes, and this was just another paycheck.

Easing out a soft breath, squeezing the trigger thunder cracked through the sky sending a fifty-caliber round through the building and into the forehead of her target. Watching as her target crumpled next to a woman also elegantly dressed her face painted with horror, the SHD issued watch flared to life. The contacts she had started wearing came to life, and the pulse she carried activated. ISAC acknowledged the agent, to no surprise Taryn lowered the barrel of her massive sniper rifle.

“Fantastic timing..” Sarcasm rolled off her tongue as she looked about as the pulse showed her where civilians stood below, others highlighted as activated agents. The same message that rang through the earpiece met her ears, a predicted outcome since the real-world exercise went awry. Taryn had prepared for this after hearing the reports of the green poison spreading, which made this her last job as a mercenary for hire.

Setting down the TAC-50, Taryn removed only the essential parts to allow it to slide into the soft case she carried it up to the roof in. As the mercenary worked to secure her gear, the voice of another agent flared to life with a rendezvous site. It was time, Taryn Morgan was now Division Agent Taryn “Specter” Morgan.

It was time to gather the rest of her gear and meet the others.

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Daniela breathed out a heavy sigh while she glanced out at the surprisingly empty street below. These past few days she hadn't bothered to leave the premises of her home, already knowing the chaos that awaited outside. Besides, winter wasn’t exactly her cup of tea. She preferred warmer temperatures and sunny days. 

Laying down on the worn leather couch, she shut her eyes, getting ready for a nap when a ping followed by an orange flashing light called for her attention. Dani opened her eyes while bringing her wrist up to her face. The brunette had known that this moment would come. Now that it was actually here...well, she didn’t know how she felt about it yet. She pressed on the watch that started up her contact lenses and the message that every other agent received. 

“This is it, huh?” She murmured while orange light encompassed her surroundings - the system scanning for any threats and agents. 

It took a second for Daniela to get up from the couch and make her way over to her bedroom where she took out all the gear and arms that the SHD has given her once she had completed her training. As she was placing a black beanie over her head the voice of agent Davis Kwan resounded through the earpiece before another string of voices answered. 

“Patch here. Be there in a few.” Daniela spoke though the comms before taking a seat to pull on her boots. She double knotted the laces, stood up, pulled on her jacket, and picked up a small silver cross necklace from her nightstand. Growing up, every Sunday, she and her family would always go to church, but as she got older she just...stopped. The necklace had been a gift from her grandparents as a reminder. She never wore it, but always kept it on her nightstand. Looking at it now, she decided to unclasp the small chain and placed it around her neck, before tucking it under her shirt. 

It wasn’t long before Daniela made her way out of her home and to the Brooklyn Bridge Park. 

 

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The responses from his fellow agents gave him a sense of reassurance. At least he wasn't going to go into this alone. Hiding himself behind a dumpster, Davis pressing a button on his smartwatch conveniently labelled 'map'. Instantly, his world darkened, and a virtual map splayed out around and him. It looked like Google maps on steroids with dark color schemes. He could see nothing else but the map. Back in training, they explained that the map function essentially blinded the agent to the immediate environment. If one were caught off-guard by a hostile while focusing too much attention on the map, then he'd be as good as dead. That was why they were taught to hide in a safe space if alone before using it or have one man designated as navigator while the rest covered him in a team.

Quickly identifying himself as the small blue blip on the map and he quickly ordered ISAC to provide him with the fastest route to the rendezvous point. Deactivating the map, he toggled on the real-time routing system which materialized an orange line above the air in front of him of which he could follow. Breathing a sigh of relief, he continued on his way towards the rendezvous point.

"Sorry about that, Fiver." Kicking himself mentally into 'agent' mode. "I'm uploading the coordinates to your maps now. See you guys at the rendezvous point. Icepick out." 


nyc-sunset-after-snow-squall-1-30-19.jpg

Brooklyn Bridge Park, 20:00 Hours

By the time the fledgling agent reached the rendezvous point, it was already sunset. Making sure there were no hostiles nearby, Davis took up a defensive position and hung behind the trunk of a large oak tree. He looked out upon the bay towards Manhattan. It was quiet, accompanied only by howling winds and the squalls of seagulls. He wondered if the rest of his family were doing okay. Last he heard, they were safe in a refugee camp somewhere in Miami where things didn't seem too FUBAR. He just hoped he lived long enough to see them again. Suddenly, a sudden beep shook him out of his stupor. 

"Incoming transmission." ISAC announced. 

"Agent? This is Louis Chang, your Northeast Section commander. Do you read me?" A man's voice crackled through his earpiece.

"Reading you loud and clear Louis." Davis replied. 

"Good. I'm picking up the positions of a few more of our colleagues closing on your position. I'm going to assume you guys got activated recently as well, so I'm just going to cut to the chase." Louis explained. "You are all part of the second wave of agents that have been activated. The current plan is to gather at the safehouse and then we'll make our way to Camp Hudson at the other side of the river. But before we do that, there's a developing situation and you guys are the nearest agents that can assist."

"Sure. What's the sitrep?" Davis breathed deeply. This was going be his first ever mission. No time for cold feet now.

"We just got a distress call from one of the local police precincts that the Joint Task Force has set up as a distribution hub for food, water and medical supplies." The commander continued. "They're being attacked by rioters. I'm getting word that they're planning on trading hostages for drugs. You need to get in there, eliminate the threat to the precinct, and rescue those hostages. Sending the coordinates to you now."

"Roger that. Where's our exfil?"

"We've got an Osprey at our disposal, so we'll pick you guys up at the landing pad right next to the precinct and fly over together. That will be all. Commander Chang, out."

Once the line was cut, Davis opened another channel to the rest of his fellow agents nearby. "I'm assuming you guys heard that too, right? Not even a day and we're jumping in headfirst."

Edited by Vetanoob

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It was a testament to just how bad thing had gotten that Merrick was able to walk down the street, assault rifle in hand, and barely draw a second glance from most of the civilians. Of course, most of them had problems of their own to deal with. The city was tearing itself apart, and everyone with even a little sense was trying to get the hell out. More malicious minded citizens saw an opportunity; looting shops, and breaking into abandoned residences to scavenge what was left. Caught in their own personal dramas, most people didn't even seem to notice him; and those who did were quick to get out of his way.

The sun was setting when he arrived at the park, and that was when he received the transmission from Chang. He didn't acknowledge the man, as Icepick seemed happy to engage him for the necessary details. It was disturbing news that the rioters had finally grown bold enough to attack police precincts. Had they simply worked themselves into such a frenzy that they no longer cared about the danger; or was something else emboldening them. Either way, they needed to be stopped.

As the transmission ended, Merrick caught sight of his fellow agent and called out on the radio, "Icepick, friendly on your six."

Once they were together he nodded in greeting, "Merrick Kruger, SHD. Nice to meet you."

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Quietly and still up in tree sat Amy, listening to her classical music through a single earbud until she heard a voice in the other ear talking to her and most likely the other SHD agents that were coming. With a quick movement she swung on the branch and hung upside, peering through a scoped rifle. Looking down she saw three male agents right below her, and looking through the streets she saw two more, these two female. They were a tad bit farther away but they were coming. With a quick huff she pulled herself up and made her quiet climb down.

As she hit the last branch she jumped off it and landed beside the group of agents. Shouldering her rifle she looked at older man and saw his gear she immediately commented on it. "Who says the older stuff isn't reliable?" With a head nod she motioned to her rifle which was also used by the Soviets, like the mans jacket. Looking at the other two, she held a face of seriousness. "Amy Harrison but you can call me Jackdaw." Slowly she walked to the tree and leaned on it before putting in her single earbud. "I heard the news. Rioters attacking a police precinct. Do you think when Chang said to eliminate the threat he meant for six SHD agents to arrive on the scene and kill off a group of rioters. Doesn't seem like he realizes how many of us are here in Brooklyn."

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"Nothing like a fresh kill to get your heart beating," cooed Boomstick. Picking up the ammo off the fresh corpse of the JTF soldier she had just killed, she took a quick mental stock of how much she had. The amount she had scavenged was probably enough to last her the next few days. Picking up the radio receiver, she realised that there were a few smoking bullet holes bored into the plastic, rendering the item completely useless. Cursing herself a little, she threw it aside, and decided to get it from the next best thing. 

Walking slowly toward the source of groaning and moaning that had been echoing through the alleyway where she had ambushed the group, she tenderly picked up the one surviving member's head. "Shhh," she sounded, slowly stroking the hair of the lady whose legs had been blown off by one of her grenades. "It'll all be over soon, just tell me something. I seemed to overhear that some people are heading for some police station somewhere. Where is the police station they are heading to, and what's in there?" Boomstick purposely spoke softly and reassuringly, in a bid to lull the JTF soldier into a false sense of calm and give up the information. This, however, did not work.

"Screw you bitch, I'll kill you," the JTF soldier screamed. Quickly planting her piston into the lady's open mouth, Boomstick cocked the hammer back. Eyes widening in terror, the JTF soldier's eyes began to tear, quickly filling to the brim and rolling down her cheek. "Now, I am normally a patient girl, but this seems like it's time sensitive, so I'll reiterate. Tell me now what I need to know, or I'll leave you to bleed out. Die slowly. Heck, I'll make it even more agonizing. I hear a gut shot is about the slowest way to die without proper treatment." Boomstick pulled her assault rifle out and placed it at her abdomen, taking off the safety, thus making her intentions crystal clear. "So, would you like to share that information with me? Tell me and I might, just might, let you live."

Looking deep into her eyes, Boomstick knew that she had broken the JTF soldier. Slowly removing the gun from her mouth, Boomstick allowed her some time to recover before the JTF soldier started spilling everything, from the riot to the contents of the police station. 'Medicine, water and food huh,' she thought to herself. Those were the usual items that were found everywhere. 

"There's apparently some special tech in there too, some SHD tech," the JTF soldier spluttered. This piqued Boomstick's interest. 

"SHD tech? Like?"

"I don't know, it was on a need-to-know basis!" the JTF soldier whimpered. "I merely heard rumors!"

Boomstick's mind raced. SHD tech. That was something important. SHD tech was the most cutting edge technology of warfare the United States currently had, and to be able to get her hands on them was something that could be game changing. Standing up, she made the decision to get it, by any means necessary. As she started to walk away, the JTF soldier started to break down again, clearly happy that she was going to be left alone. Spinning around, Boomstick fired off one shot, striking the soldier in her head. The body slumped almost immediately, and slowly blood began dripping from the bullet hole that now decorated the soldier's skull. Happy with her work, she holstered her weapon, before jogging at a steady pace over to the coordinates she was given by the soldier. 

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An hour passed since the assassination was finished, Taryn moved through her garage she had modified several years back into her own personal armory. The garage itself was built to specifications she designed herself, equipped with a surveillance system that met many high-end government facilities. It would be a shame if anyone got into take her personal gear, yet that knowledge was privy to Taryn herself.

Finishing popping the last of the 9mm rounds into the many clips she was securing to her utility belt; Taryn checked her pistol that rested on her hip. Double checking the assault rifle, and the magazine she had recently slid into it. It appeared her gear was ready; sliding on her backpack with the TAC-50 sniper rifle attached in way to allow easy access, she exited her home. Looking back over the place she called home when she was around, she shrugged walking away.

With the pulse activated, it showed the others that awaited the rest of the activated Division agents at the Manhattan Bridge. Given she wasn’t far, Taryn kept a double pace avoiding debris and conflicts between multiple groups of people in the streets. At one point of her travels to group up with the others, she had to deploy one of her many flash bangs to create a diversion to avoid a very potent looking group of hooligans.

It appeared there was much more than the Police station that needed help, it was hard to ignore some of the conflicts that were either in the middle of finishing itself, or just beginning between the civilians. And all she knew at this point was, it was just the beginning of a huge mess she would have to correct herself.

Weaving in and out of cars that had seen better days, Taryn found the beginning of the bridge. Tapping the face of her SHD watch, the others popped up in the display her special contacts gave her. Following the indicated path, hopping over road dividers and sliding over hoods of cars.

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Daniela placed the coordinates into the routing network causing for a bright orange arrow to appear ahead of her. The girl lightly grinned clearly impressed with the efficiency of the technology the SHD had provided. Briefly glancing down at her watch, she couldn’t help but to wonder what other things they added to them.  

Setting foot on the street, Daniela’s eyes briefly scanned her surroundings before making her way through the streets. Her encounters with civilians were short. They mostly consisted of brief glances then they would scurry along, which was something the girl was fairly surprised and happy about. She had expected much more...violent interactions. 

-

Daniela was less than a block away from the park when a transmission resounded through her earphones. It didn’t come as a surprise that they were already assigned a mission. The city had pretty much gone to shit. Surely there was someone out there reeking havoc bad enough that would call for their attention. 

 

Walking through the park, pistol in hand, Daniela spotted three agents standing near a tree. “Patch coming in.” The girl announced her presence through the transmitter, before putting away her weapon as she approached the small group. “Daniela Martinez, Dani or Patch is fine though. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintances .” She spoke to them with a small smile.

Edited by Hani

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On 6/27/2019 at 6:44 PM, danzilla3 said:

"Icepick, friendly on your six."

Once they were together he nodded in greeting, "Merrick Kruger, SHD. Nice to meet you."

Davis returned the greeting with his own nod. "Davis Kwan, second wave. Good to see a fellow agent." 

Before he could continue, a sudden thump! and a lithe figure landing beside him made him jump in fright. It took all the self-restraint he had to not immediately pull his gun on her! Luckily, he saw the familiar orange glow and realised she was another fellow agent. And damn, was she silent like a ghost. 

On 6/28/2019 at 12:53 AM, SteamWarden said:

"Who says the older stuff isn't reliable?" With a head nod she motioned to her rifle which was also used by the Soviets, like the mans jacket. Looking at the other two, she held a face of seriousness. "Amy Harrison but you can call me Jackdaw." Slowly she walked to the tree and leaned on it before putting in her single earbud. "I heard the news. Rioters attacking a police precinct. Do you think when Chang said to eliminate the threat he meant for six SHD agents to arrive on the scene and kill off a group of rioters. Doesn't seem like he realizes how many of us are here in Brooklyn."

"Good to see you, Amy." Davis exclaimed, bringing his breath back down to an acceptable level. "No one knows how many of us are around New York. We could have passed each other every day and we would never know we were part of the same organisation." 

He looked out towards the Hudson river and frowned. "Seems strange that simple rioters would have the balls to storm a JTF complex. Something's not right... maybe they could've been led to attack the precinct, but it's a cover for something worse? Nevermind, that sound stupid. It doesn't matter, anyway. We've got orders, so we'll neutralize the rioters and meet up with commander Chang."

Activating the map once more, he saw two more orange dots heading their way. "Looks like there's just two more of us left coming from the south and south-east." Looking up at his newfound colleagues, he decided to break some ice. "If we're going to work together, I think it's best if we know each other's strength. I'll go first: I specialize primarily in direct assault and also tactical analysis. I've got a drone here with me that can help mark enemies from a distance and highlight it for ISAC."

"What do you guys dabble in?"

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It was too early for him to be able to form an accurate assessment of his team, but first impressions were mixed. Kwan seemed to be more collected than your typical FNG, but it was also clear that he was nervous. This wasn't necessarily a mark against him, but only time would tell if he would snap under the pressure of combat. On the positive side, he had taken charge and organized their rendezvous, and his idea to familiarize themselves with each others skills and equipment showed tactical thinking. Harrison seemed ready to go, and her stealth skills seemed well honed. Her good taste in firearms was also a plus. Martinez was polite, and professional; qualities he always admired in a colleague.

"I specialize in infiltration and assault. If our sniper needs help, I'm a top rated marksman. As for gadgets, I have this thing that shoots sticky bombs."

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