Augment

[Voshkod]

AUGMENT

Starring

Baerdog7 as Starling

Dorizzit as Sparrowhawk

Geesi as Blue Jay

A Voshkod Production

[Voshkod]

Part One - 'Don't Argue in Front of the Augments'

The wind rips into the hold of the C-5A like a hungry beast as the rear ramp lowers, thirty-five thousand feet over Tajikistan. A few stray bits of paper swirl outward into the night, falling like sparse snowflakes on confused locals far below.

The voice, calm as ever, an unknown woman, radiates from the center of your brains. "Jump in thirty. One minute of freefall before you deploy."

Images flicker behind your retinas. A plateau, covered in snow, a long lake, covered in ice. It's cold in the cargo hold. The C-5 begins a slight climb, and the world climbs into view below the open hatch, ice and cold and stone, seven miles down. Sensors are going off, warning of cold, of low oxygen. Plenty of time yet.

The voice, so calm, so reassuring. "Twenty to jump. Starling, you have uploaded Russian and Tajik. Blue Jay, we need fast uplink of those photos you get, so find a sat dish if you can. Sparrowhawk. Kill them all." The voice always makes such sense.

Yellow lights appear in the hold. You can see the lake, shining ice in the moonlight, seven and a half miles below now. "Ten to jump. Be careful, boys."

[Dorizzit]

Sparrowhawk sits calmly and quietly, comparable to a wolf or a bear in a time of calm: a beast at rest, a powerful force capable of vast levels of destruction, but holding back until the proper time. In his hand he clutches the worn marble he always has with him, it's numerous star patterns dull in the dark hold of the C-5A. When the voice sounds, he places the marble in his pocket and cracks his knuckles, before standing, and going through the complex stretching exercise he always does right before deployment, each and every muscle in his body tested and used, part of the exercise holding his body against the wind coming from the opening. This done, he sits once more and runs his fingers through his wild, knotted black hair several times, before beginning a long breathing exercise. His eyes close as he feels relaxation overcome his anxiety. Despite this, the twin blades, one over each wrist, begin revealing themselves unbidden, sliding in and out of his wrists in his anticipation for the coming bloodshed.

[Baerdog7]

Starling lounges on a bundled up cargo net, calmly reading his tattered copy of The Hobbit. His eyes dart across the pages, indifferent to the fact that the interior of the plane was almost dark. He had memorized the text long ago, but the tactile sensation of turning the pages still helped to calm him down.

When the alarm sounds, Starling packs away the book and does some stretches and calisthenics to help limber up.

See you two on the other side, he says as he walks to the end of the cargo bay. The jump was soon, he had to get into character now.

[Guancyto]

Blue Jay crouches on the floor, checking over his equipment one last time. Springs, rods and slides form up to establish a set, organized whole. So many parts working in unison for the most efficient effecting of their purpose. A little like himself, and perhaps the others. Perhaps not, too. Doesn't matter. Thirty-five thousand feet in the air in hostile territory isn't really the time to wax philosophical.

With the alert, he quickly and carefully finishes his latest reassembly and makes sure everything is secured. He doesn't bother with his memento. Old things are well and good, but it's the cutting edge that will save your life.

[Voshkod]

"Go." With that simple command, you step out into the freezing slipstream. Hundred mile hour winds rip at you, trying to tear away your weapons, Sparrowhawk's massive railgun, the smaller flechette pistols of Blue Jay and Starling. The Earth spins wildly below as your secondary eyelids close to block the wind. Telescopic vision shows, even from seven miles high, a temporary structure on the plateau.

Six miles. All the lights are green in the backs of your minds, everything's fine.

Five miles. Terminal velocity, plunging down like darts.

Four miles. The air is thicker, buffeting you.

Three miles. By instinct, you pop the parafoils.

The plastic man falls from the top of the stairs toward the hardwood floor below. The plastic parachute tangles and he plummets, bouncing twice, as a drunken voice shouts 'Streamer! Streamer!' over the sounds of laughter and football . . . . Sparrowhawk, you shake the random . . . memory? . . . from your head, and the three of you start gliding toward the target.

[Dorizzit]

Sparrowhawk shakes his head. The hell? That was odd...right. The mission. Got to focus on the mission. Think later. That's not what I'm not paid to do. In the minutes before impact, he runs over his gun, checking all the parts and ensuring that nothing is out of place. This done and left with nothing else to do, he he begins stretching his muscles as best the harness and location allow.

[Baerdog7]

Starling relishes the feeling of freedom that free fall brings. He allows any feeling of fear or nervousness flow out of him as if blown away by the wind. He doesn't bother to check his gear after his chute deploys; he knew that it was already in perfect order. He does, however, notice a momentary lapse of concentration on Sparrowhawk's face and gives him a questioning thumbs up to see if everything is all right.

[Dorizzit]

Sparrowhawk finishes his second set of stretches, his thoughts over the memory remaining despite his attempts at focus. He shakes his head and clears it before returning Starling's thumbs up.

[Guancyto]

The skydiving is the best part of the whole affair, Blue Jay has to admit. Something primal about what would otherwise be a simple business of gravity, air resistance, adrenaline. Well, not skydiving precisely, but he feels he'll take what he can get.

His gaze is fixed on their target, analyzing even as he plummets. The party is waiting for them.

It wouldn't do to be late.

[Voshkod]

The ground comes up with surprising swiftness. At about two thousand feet Sparrowhawk can pick out the landing field, just behind a rock outcrop, shielded from main facility. And there's someone down there, a guard perhaps, leaning against a rock, a bottle in hand.

[Dorizzit]

Great. Just what we need... Sparrowhawk yells to the others: "Warning! There's a person, I think a guard, down there about where we're going to land. Ready yourselves..."

[Baerdog7]

Starling

Starling wordlessly acknowledges Sparrowhawk. He had, of course, seen the guard as well. Chances are the guard was drunk, or asleep but he wasn't about to take any chances. He activates his active camouflage and silently changes course to land on the other side of the rock from the guard.

[Voshkod]

Flipping through various channels of vision as he descends, Starling notices that the man has no infrared signature. He's cold, cold as the outside air.

[Baerdog7]

Starling

Looks like we've got ourselves a popsicle, Starling says to himself.

He glides his parachute back to land on the far side of the boulder from the base and draws his sidearm, a silenced Beretta 92. If he notices any movement from the guard before he lands, Starling will shoot for the head.

[Voshkod]

With small puffs of snow, the three augments touch down. Almost immediately, Blue Jay can feel it. The strange electrics in the area. Not the old comforting smell of AC power, the light sting of DC power, the brittle taste of Chernakov radiation, but something else, something oily, slippery, here and not here at once.

The guard is dead, very much so, an obscene smile carved under his chin by a very sharp knife.

[Baerdog7]

Starling

Starling holster's his sidearm and begins searching the guard for keys, access cards, pass codes, or anything else that might be useful.

Somebody's beaten us to the punch.

[Dorizzit]

"So it would seem..." Sparrowhawk scans the area, watching for signs of movement.

[Guancyto]

"What... what the hell?" Blue Jay says to himself as he dusts himself off and gets to analyzing the area.

"Hey, check for power sources for me if you get the chance. There's something here that isn't your average generator. If it's a generator at all..." Too expensive to set up a microwave sat for this, but...?

"You know. If you aren't busy dodging bullets at the time. Priorities and all that."

[Voshkod]

Peering carefully around the rocks, you all can see soldiers, and competent looking ones at that. Scanning through his database of uniforms and insignia, Blue Jay recognizes them immediately - Russian Spetsnaz. Best of the best, and not the group of third-stringers you were expecting. Two outside the door to the structure, scanning the sky for something.

[Guancyto]

"Belay that," Blue Jay whispers, embarrassed, "doesn't look like you'll be having a lot of free time. Special Forces, Russians. Doesn't look like they met a lot of resistance getting in.

[Voshkod]

"Because it's an easy mission. That's why were using these three. They're fresh off a wipe and need something simple to get them back in working order." Dr. Crane blinks at the bright lights shining all you all.

Monitor one speaks. "It does look easy. The Uzbeks can't put up much resistance."

Monitor five crackles. "But what if the Russians get involved? They are neighbors."

Monitor eleven. "Unlikely. We've seen no signs that the Russians are spooling up for this."

Twelve monitors, turned off, except for the speakers. Dr. Crane, in his labcoat, smiling nervously. Snowbird, behind you all, a slim red-headed woman, acting as security. Mission briefing.

[Baerdog7]

Starling shakes the strange...memory out of his head.

This is an interesting development. We should take the sentries out quietly to not alert the others. Wait here.

Starling reactivates his active camo and slinks off in the direction of the guards at the entrance to the structure. As he moves, Starling begins emitting calming pheromones in an effort to lull the guards. He loops around so as to approach the guard to the left of the entrance from the side. When he's in range, Starling hits him with tranquilizing spit, melting back into the shadows on the side of the building.

If the other guard investigates:

Spoiler

Show

Starling sneaks up behind the second guard as he approaches the body of the first. He pulls out his monofilament garrote wire and moves up to strangle him from behind.

If the other guard doesn't notice:

Spoiler

Show

Seeing that the other guard hasn't noticed, Starling sneaks within spitting distance and hits him with more tranquilizing spit.

[Dorizzit]

Sparrowhawk settles down and sits with his back leaning against the rock. "Geh..." he grumbles softly. "I hate halving to be subtle (primarily because I have great difficulty in that area). Let me know when I can kill something."

[Voshkod]

Pores open and send chemicals into the air, soft lulling phermones, a clear message to the brain: Everything's all right, everything's fine, mother's here now, my dear child.

And then Starling spits on the guard. He hits it just right, below the ear, and the chemicals paralyze and seep under the skin. For a moment he can see the guard's jaw working, trying to open, trying to say something, and then the Russian crumples into the snow.

The other Spetsnaz trooper turns, bringing his gun down. He's trained; he's not going to go over and check, he's reaching for his radio . . . .

[Baerdog7]

Starling

Starling sees the movement. He moves with silent stealth. Not far though, just a few steps, just enough to get him closer, drawing his pistol as he moves. Within seconds he is in range, spitting another glob of tranquilizer at the second guard, his pistol trained on the guard's head ready to fire should the tranq work too slowly.

[Voshkod]

He's fast, and the gun is already coming up. The active camo isn't too effective when you're moving quickly, and Starling has just a moment to see the man's surprised eyes when the flechette pistol rumbles quietly, spitting ceramic fragments into the trooper's face at hypersonic speed.

* * *

"The mission is simple," says the voice from monitor four. "Land at the target location, kill everyone present, find out what entered there, uplink photos and available data, await recover. Can they handle that, Dr. Crane?"

"Easily, sir. The recent datawipe would not have effected any of their combat abilities. These are recent acquisitions, and we've wiped some of the models, like Snowbird here, over thirty times with no degradation of combat abilities."

Behind you, Snowbird giggles quietly.

[Baerdog7]

Starling

Starling deactivates his camo and begins searching the bodies for card keys or security passes. He grabs the dead one's radio and clips it on his belt before picking both men up and carrying them back to the others.

****ers are fast. Here, let's tie this one up, he says, indicating the unconscious one. He drops the dead one behind the rock, but props the unconscious one up more gently. We may still be able to use him.

[Dorizzit]

Sparrowhawk poses the practical question: "Do you have anything to tie him up with? Also, how do you think he could be useful?"

[Baerdog7]

Starling

Starling pulls a handful of zip ties out of a pocket and begins restraining the unconscious soldier. I can't believe you two didn't bring any zip ties. He undoes the guard's belt and gags him with it.

He shrugs in response to the second question. I'm not sure...yet. C'mon, we'd best get on with the mission.