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Post by mirroreddementia on Jan 7, 2008 13:06:13 GMT -5
IN: This is going to be the back story of Makoa, before his unfortunate... rebirth.
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Post by mirroreddementia on Jan 7, 2008 14:37:32 GMT -5
PROLOGUE Makoa started out just a soldier, no family, no friends, just the military keeping him alive, going were they told him, doing what they told. Killing when they told him to kill, which was more often than not. He saw a total of 57 firefights in his six years in the military. Quite an impressive number, his superiors would say. His actions on the battle field always preceded him. The men he came in contact with during his time in service would speak of him with fondness. He was described as an good man and an excellant soldier. Though he kept to himself mostly, he enjoyed conversation with people. He always would talk of the great things he intended to accomplish, the recognition he'd gain. He liked people liking him, people knowing him. He loved fighting for his brothers, then hearing their praise after. He was known for shutting up into himself, though, for days at a time if a comrade died and he failed to rescue him. In the end these things only pushed him to improve.
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Post by mirroreddementia on Jan 8, 2008 11:43:30 GMT -5
Torwards the end of his military days, Makoa took on a protege, a young ambitious soldier who reminded him of a more rambunctious version of his youger self. The young soldier idolized him, and to Makoa he became like a younger brother. They trained and drilled together, the older teaching the young the ways of the world. Soon, the young one was well trusted in battle, given positons and strategic objectives in battle that some would later say was beyond his level of skill. And as unfortunate fate would have it, they, in the end, were right. Makoa was overconfident in his students skills, and the soldier was to eager to please his hero, and this not only resulted in his death, but an utter failure of the mission their team had been assigned. Along with the boy, two other valued men were lost, and this struck deep into the heart of Makoa. Soon after, he was on a board of review by his superiors. The lack of judgement on the battlefield and endagerment of lives cost him rank, and cost him his pride. The gave him the option for ressignation, which he considered and then promptly agreed to. The military life no longer held glory for him, but he had no other real skills outside of tactics, recon, and killing. He would soon there after find himself back in the hands of the government, but not the straightforward military type that he was so akin to.
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Post by mirroreddementia on Jan 9, 2008 8:05:26 GMT -5
CHAPTER I After months of failure in the role of a normal man, Makoa's particular prowess was taken notice of by a nameless faction of the government who felt he was a strong commodity that shouldn't be left to waste away. They charmed him with the promise of exotic adventure, and the extreme payoffs their particular line of work offered. He was enraptured by the thought of being a reconized mercany, one of the legendary powerhouses spoken of reverence by society, and fear by those hunted for any reason. He quickly and vehemontly accepted their offer, eager to prove his usefullness and skill. They took him on for testing and training, to familairize him with weapons he wasn't open to in the military, observe his capabilities, and brief him on the innerworkings of their organization. It was soon evident to Makoa that even though his illustrious reputation preceded him, he would still have to start from the bottom, small time hits and tasks, mostly involving info recon. When his training was complete, he began to take his assignments as they were offered, hunting down the whereabouts of target encampments, digging up dirt on government officals, sometimes called on for sweeper missions with other low level mercs, taking out small groups of combatents. Slowly, his recognition grew, his assignments themselves gaining greater precedence, until he found himself faced with what he considered his first true mission.
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Post by mirroreddementia on Jan 10, 2008 10:28:03 GMT -5
Makoa found himself in a briefing room, alone with a man he could only assume was a seasoned merc who turned his sights to the higher paying, more relaxed type of work offered within the organization itself. Where corded muscle must have once been, there was thick flesh to replace it, not so much fat, but definately soft fromlack of use. He wore the clothing of a professional businessman, but his demeanor and stance betrayed his past as a combatant. "Good morning," he said to Makoa in a gruff voice,"we have been approach with news of a militant extremeist by the name of Dantien Furst. He appeared about a year ago amid eco weapon research and development facilities in neighboring locals, the names of which being out of your need to know. He has a backround of violence that the company did not know of before they took him on as part of the development crew. Seems he had skills in that field that was keen to their interest. Anyway, the short of it is he undermined the entire system there, smuggle out God knows what and moving in his own operatives at key control positions throughout until he pulled of a hostile take over, killing off most of the personnel there, and then moving his operation to a new area in the desert region south of here." The man presented Makoa with a file folder, inclosed with pictures of the exterior of a small walled-in compound, defense towers set up with strange weapons that he was on familar with. "He has a crew 'round 150," he continued, "there are seven key members that need to be taken down, but the most important, the key to this mission is Furst." Makoa removed a picture of a wild eyed man with short black hair. Beneath his tattered wifebeater there was evidence of war, many scars that saw poor healing, leaving the ugly reminders twisted and thick. "He's said to be a madman in battle, not very accurate with his weapons, but will likely run right up point blank to kill a man. Also, there have been rumors of him having superhuman strength. The authanticity of this is uncertain, but its likely that it can be attributed to his dabblings in eco technology." He paused, than gestured around the room. "Obviously, your the only one we plan to send on this affair. Because of their defenses, alarge group will only be annialated from afar. You'll have to infiltrate alone under the cover of night. Try to remain undetected until you reach Furst. His fleeing is unlikely, but we don't want to take any chances. Their weapons," he said, waiting as Makoa flip to the portion of his mission documents," are mostly eco based with deadly attributes. They fire concetrated bolts that peirce and poison the flesh. These are far superior to anything you've had experience with. Now, I'm sure you may be wondering, why not just blow the place up, take care of it all at once? Simple. We want whatever info you can gather from there, any documents or computer files regarding the research. If possible, bring back one of the weapons themselves. We expect this to be taken care of within the week," he stepped away from Makoa, opening the door," Good luck, and if you impress us, perhaps these things will come your way more often." Makoa gathered his things and stepped through the doorway turning back to the man and giving the slightest smile,"I promise you're gonna start seeing alot more of me," Makoa retorted. He strolled off to the old salts "hmph!", heading to his quarters to prepare for his mission.
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Post by mirroreddementia on Jan 11, 2008 8:06:08 GMT -5
Makoa lived rather comfortabally in his three roomed quarters. He had his living space with a kithenette, bedroom with attached bathroom, and his "office". His well paying jod assured him some luxuries that allowed him plenty of relaxation and amusement while he was in between assignments. But a portion of his pay always went to new weapons, up grades, and equipment. Makoa inside his office, or more accurately his war-room planning out his mission, at his paper strewn desk wearing a simple shirt and comfy slacks, reveiwing the geographic terrain surrounding his mark, and the best way to more in undected. They are sure to be equipped with thermal sensory and possibally night vision on the outsidewalls for night, he thought to himself. He would have to attach a sensory scrambler to his armor, a device developed to distort the signal of anything aiming directly at him. It was never mass produced because the radioactive waves it generates causes temporary illness and sterilty in some cases after to much use. He would only keep it on for a breif time as he made his way to the perimeter. Makoa plotted a route along a rock formation that concealed him from the compound, and up along the ditch of their vehicle trail that had become elevated due to the dirt being compacted as they drove over it and new sand being blown over top in an on going cycle. He stood to look over the items that decorated the wall right of the entrance, the display self against it, and the rack beneath that. On the wall were three different types of chest and back plate armor with sappy plate interior and steel flak exterior seperated by the kevlar and steel skeleton that it all attached to. All together the heavier one probally comes in at 60 lbs. One gets accustomed. On the left side of the display case was two groin and hip protectors, a light and a heavy version. The case also contained Makoa's custom semi-automatice rifle with detachable scope and his high powered pistol, as well as magazines, magazine pouches, compass, flashlight, combat vest, and med pack. Beneath the table was his thigh pad , knee pad, and shin pad set, as well as his steel plated boots. From this he made his selection: Light weight torso peice to cover his rib cage area, light groin protector that hugs the hips and the crotch area, allowing mobility within minimum protection. He opted for the thigh and shin pads, forsaking the knee pads as they were thicker and restrain leg movement. He would also wear flame retardent camo trousers, but no camo blouse or kevlar helmet. Tonight he'd clean his weapons, test fire them, and then reclean and lubricate them before heading out. He wouldn't take any chances with a mission this big. He was prepared, ready to take hold of his destiny as the most recognized merc of his time.
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Post by mirroreddementia on Jan 14, 2008 13:34:50 GMT -5
The night was young enough for the desert sand to still hold the days warmth, but the chill of darkness would soon set in. Makoa abandoned his borrowed dune buggy, having gotten as close as possible to the extremeist camp with it without detection. He was a good 50 miles away from civilization, and still had another 4 miles to go. Equipped with the gear he'd chosen, pistol holstered at his side, rifle slung in a three point sling so that it would always hang at the ready, with an easy-detach clip on the sling itself should he need to dump his rifle in a hurry, he was ready to move on his objective. He kept a quick trot, following the path he'd mapped and memorized. One may find it difficult to transverse a set path in the desert due to constantly changing geography with the ever blowing sands, dunes being built up and blown away again in days. Only the most permanent, largest, and most solid formations can be used. For this mission he plotted his way through a deep ravine that ran its ran past the compound. After a short distance from the buggy, he bagan his descent down into the ravine, relying on only his hands and feet, with no safety gear. He could feel the grit of the sharp rock through his gloves as he made his way down, testing the areas below him thoroughly, ensuring that it could hold his weight before moving down. Once he reached the bottom some thirty feet below, he was faced with crossing the flowing water within, unknowing as to its depth. Best he cross now, should he be swept downstream it would only serve to bring him closer to his objective. Keeping his weapon raised high, he slipped into the strong current of the stream, wading into it until he found, to his delight, that at its deepest he stood just below waist deep in water, though the current could still sweep him off his feet were he not careful. He passed across it's 20 ft spance, almost slipping once, to the other side, taking a moment to check his gear, and then continued along the ravine, counting his paces until he was roughly at the distance he figured himself to be coming back out of. He surveyed the wall above him, and finding a path up with the best incline out, he made his way back up, positioned behind several sloping dunes and a small rock formation, the closest cover at 200 yds. He made his way through the dunes up to the rocky mass, and dared a peak between two jagged spires, at the outer wall. The walls were thick, a good five feet of precursor metal on either side with two stories of narrow corridors within, as well as a guards post along the top. There were six walls in total, rhombus shape that was square on the northern end, with the large access gates. Judging from the radio equipment and high security on the building built into the southern end, as shown in the briefing images, it was determined that it must be the headquarters element, and the most likely location for his mark. There were 5 key locations of interest that Makoa would have to be mindful of: on the east side, from where he was approaching, against the northernmost wall, there was what has been determined to be the guard element, in front of which seemed to be to small supply shacks; directly across from that was a tiny guard hut followed immediately by a larger building conjoined with the outer wall, which recon intel suggest is a barracks of sorts, with an armory on its first floor as apparently a chow area as well; in a fenced of location just south of that small missiles and several unidentified canisters and small storage boxes; adjacent to that was the headquarters element, and connected to that as well as the east wall was a large building that must be what is used for the weapons development. Using a grappling hook taken from the buggy, he'd have to scale the wall outside the guard element and enter through the passage ways there. Makoa had timed the guards relays over the top of the wall, and a window to move to the wall was coming. Readying himself, Makoa crouched low, braced for a dead run. He reached to the scrabbler device on his torso armor, and switch it on, lunging forward into a mad dash, flying with the speed he was so well known for. Hopefully, he'll close the distance unnoticed.
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Post by mirroreddementia on Jan 15, 2008 13:07:53 GMT -5
Makoa rushed up to and flattened himself against the wall, listen for any signs of alarm. The scrambler was making him feel ill, so he promptly shut it down. He checked his watch, timing when the next guard should be passing. He could barely hear the shuffle of the nights watch as he passed overhead. When he was sure he'd passed at least by ten meters, Makoa stepped back from the wall and tossed up the grappling hook, catching on the first try. He quickly scaled the wall, hefting himself over the short ledge and onto the walkway before he could be seen. He let the hook drop back to the ground, no longer needing it and keeping it from detecton. Makoa took a quick review of his surroundings, hearing a generator humming around the front of the building. Crouched low, keeping his rifle at the ready, he began to move along the wall until he fell in step with the guard who had just passed. He was a thin man, but well armed, weilding a strange gun with a thick barrel, short in length. To bad he wouldn't have the chance to use it. Makoa quickly closed the gap between them, the guard sensing his presence just soon enough to turn and see the buttstroke delivered to his face. He staggered, stunned, and Makoa jambed his combat knife under his chin, past his sinus cavity, right into his brain. Makoa performed a forward thrust kick just as he was removing the knife, sending the man over the wall. It would be a short while before they noticed him missing, probally assume that he's sleeping on post, and they will likely not see his body until morning. Makoa continued forward until he could see the southern most end of the guard element and a crude stairway off the pathway into the wall's lower level. Carefully, he found his way down the staircase, right outside a narrow passage way. Listening for anyone moving about and hearing none, he stole a glance in either direction. Northbound, there were three doors that must certainly lead into the guard element itself, southbound he could only assume held the weapons facility and further on the HQ. Now was where he'd have to start improvising. Chances are, he'd step into the passage and get down a good distance before either running into a guard, being seen by anther guard coming up from behind, or tripping some sort of sensor. Or he could attempt to diffuse their security setup with the guard hut, or at least gather info as to what security they have in place in what areas. The problem was getting in there. He has no idea whats behind any of those three doors. And now was not a good time to sit and debate it. He promptly chose to investigate the guard element. Hurrying down the corridor, he play a quick gameshow in his head and picked "Door number three!" and skirted up to it, pressing his ear to it. Hearing nothing, he held his breath and darted in, weapon raised chest level. He found himself inside a blissfully empty refreshment room, filled sparsely with lounge room chairs and a large waste bin. There were to doors, one leading left out of the room and the other right. He'd need to find a computer and large screen display setup, the most likely security system for them to have in place. It was definitely going to be located on a high floor, where he would find it he had no idea. He'd have to "question" someone surely. Makoa could he faint voices in the room to the left, so he' have to take the door right. He had started for it and was half-way when it opened and one of his lower priority marks stepped in. Before he could utter a word, Makoa shot forward and punched him in the throat, rapidly performing an armbar takedown, slamming him face first into the ground. Makoa slip him into a blood choke, cutting off the veins to his head. In seconds he was unconscious, unable to hear the sharp snap of his own neck. His body was buried under the refuse within the waste canister, Makoa check one off his mental list, and stepped through the door. Not a bad start.
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Post by mirroreddementia on Jan 16, 2008 12:07:18 GMT -5
Makoa found himself in a lobby near the front of the building, hidden in the shadows between racks of weapons material and guard equipment, as well as meager office supplies. Tucked neatly behind him was another dead guard, straggled with his own weapon sling. Makoa was just shy of the front entrance, across from a wide metal stair case that went down on the left and right and up in the middle. Seeing no one, he dashed up the steps, reaching the top and crouching low, pressing close to the left side wall. He could faintly make out the sound of radio crackle down the hallway, instantly realizing that this was likely what he be searching for. He moved down the hall til he reached the source, an open door with electric light pouring out of it. Inside he heard one man calling for check-ins from the post. "WW-3, whats your status?" he kept asking"WW-3? Wall-walker-3, come in," they'd discovered the problem a little sooner than expected it seemed. Edging to the door, Makoa peaked in, seeing only one man facing a wall of monitors, twelve in total. He was hunched over the radio equipment, searching the screens for some sign of the missing man. "Someone check the stairs, make sure he isn't sleeping," he said, clearly agitated. When a reply came, he sat back into his chair, staring at the monitors once again. Makoa slipped in silent as a ghost, positioning himself directly behind the man, unsheathing his knife. He reached above and around at the same time with both hands, quickly digging his fingers into the man's eyesockets while pressing the blade to his throat, dragging both him and the chair back away from console. "If you start to scream," Makoa growled in a low voice,"you'll be dead before the sound reaches you lips." The man whimpered in reply, a thin, gangley fellow, obviously a computer type only good for these types of things. Probably only in it for the money. "I want you to tell me where Furst is," Makoa said,"and my patience is very low right now, so if your immediate answers don't satisfy," he dug the tip of the blade into the mans neck, inciting soft yelp,"I'll just have to watch these screens til I find him myself." Hurriedly pointing to the screen third down on the left the man sofly cried"There, the weapons building, he walks through at this time, they've got a night shift, round the clock work he says, please let me li-!" the last of it was all gargles and sputtering, the man clawing at the gash across his throat in futile effort to stop the life from draining out of him. He surely be discovered, but Makoa had what he had come for, made note of what he could see on the screens, which wasn't much. Even a system this small cost quite the pretty penny, and they could be very well funded as a terrorist themed group to begin with. What little info he could gather would undoubtedly prove useful to him later. His target has been located, and after a few minor preparations, he'd be ready to seek and destroy. He'd noticed some remote detonation explosive charges downstairs, and he had plans for its use. This was going to be one hell of a night.
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Post by mirroreddementia on Jan 17, 2008 11:57:11 GMT -5
Makoa had exited the guard element coming out between to smaller, flimsy builds, probably store houses, facing a large open area he assumed was used for training, vehicle movement, and other such things. He could see the barracks not far from him, and the fenced in area next to it. Within was a situation to good to be true: the missiles were positioned right next to the barracks, with its first floor armory. At the fence's entrance was a guard shack, small little thing with big windows. Makoa could easily make out the two armed sentries within. The fence was chain-link with razor wire wrapped around the top. He'd just have to make his way around the front of the barracks and open a way through the fence himself. To his right was the north wall, with the main gate, to massive metal plates that slide together and apart for access. directly inside the gate on either side were mini guard post, enclosed, lighted cubicles. The guard nearest him was asleep. The further one was deep in some form of literature, possibably pornography. Not unlikely in military groups so closed to society. Makoa, keeping low, dropped back around the buildin next to him, coming up from behind the slumbering fool. He had a single window cracked for fresh air, and was leaned back, head resting perfectly comfortable at the top of the chairs back, hands folded neatly in his lap. As Makoa reached the cubicle, he shot a glance at the guard across the way. Still busy with his "literature" Makoa silently pulled the window open farther, the cold draft elicting the slightest motion within the guard's peaceful features, but not enough to wake him before his neck twisted and pulled to a sickening snap. He was laid back to rest, position almost identical unless you noticed the odd angle of his neck. Makoa, now poised to sprint, was left with a dilema. He good think of no good way to take this guy out without him first seeing him then raising an alarm or someone else happening to look out and notice or hear the commotion. Looks like he'd have to start doing things the fun way. No gunshots until he reaches Furst, though. He can't be sure I'm here until I let him know for sure. Lunging forward at a dead sprint,trying to hug the shadows, Makoa flew across the front of the gate, knife in hand. He hurled it with all his might just as the guard looked up. It shattered the glass pane and buried itself in his chest. Makoa reached in and ripped it free, taking off once more for the fenceline, letting the man bleed out, unconscious in his chair. It was time to set up some fireworks before he moved on to the main event.
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