These are the coordinates, a scrap metal shack under an old highway. There is a camera near the corner of the shack, it's moving, watching and following you. The first steps in, slow and cautious, fast or loud, they would be silent. There would be no resistance, and the sting would linger only for a moment before your world turns to black and the sound of what appears to be "I'm sorry" fades into the distance.

[i][b]Throbbing pain.[/b][/i] [E:6+ Avoided]

For such an easy trip into unconsciousness the headache leftover resembled that of a hangover, some might be used to this. The darkness you slipped into is barely different from this dimly lit room, an old oil lamp sitting on a shining silver desk. It was clean here, nothing like the shack you entered. A figure is on the other side of the lamp, he is dressed in a clean black outfit, a sharp collar holding the jacket below his jaw where it's slightly open. On his left side he has an etched .45 someone with [P:7+] good eyes might notice.

[color=9e0b0f]"Thank you all for coming on such... Short notice. I hope the ride down wasn't too hard on you, our central operatives aren't gentle but they are precise, subtle. Something I hope all of you can adapt."[/color] He stands up, walking into the circle. You're in chairs, not tied down, but your weapons have been laid out on a table. The explosive laser rifle has been carefully disassembled, and the super mutant is full of needles from the multitude of injections needed. [color=9e0b0f]"Quite the trouble that rifle of yours gave us, we had to have an engineer take it apart to get it off of you. I'm sure you can put it back together much faster than we pulled it apart, but do be careful."[/color]

He taps the desk and reaches over it, lifting the helmet of T-60B power armor, a hole punched through the front of it. [color=9e0b0f]"What was once a symbol of justice is now a symbol of fear, a fascist dictatorship hell bent on running the world as they please, and making it anew. A bold goal, and not a bad one, but it is one we're not going to accept because we are the casualties in their war. What they may tolerate now they will soon take, and again we as a race will destroy ourselves."[/color]

Setting the helmet on the desk, letting it stare at them as he enters the light more. His skin is pale, with hair as dark as his suit. He's clean shaven from what you can see of his lower face, and he has a cruel smile. [color=9e0b0f]"Government."[/color] He utters the word, giving a moment, as if it needed to sink in. [color=9e0b0f]"The ultimate failure of human history. Government gets people caught in their wars that don't wish to be involved. Government steals from the people who work just because they can, to maintain stability we can maintain ourselves. Government which oppresses us in the name of a cause only they can understand. Today, you have been chosen are our main source of frontal assault. Gorilla, derived from an old world animal. Sneaking from the trees, attacking where it hurts. There aren't many of you, but do as I say and you're an army. We will win with tactics, not numbers. Kill them from the inside. People may be added to your team, rogue variables will be killed by our people. On top of freedom I can promise you riches, equipment you won't get elsewhere. The shack you seen, that is the calling point of this team, this is where you make contact."[/color]

A low hum starts in the walls, rising up as lights turn on one by one across the ceiling. The facility is built like a vault, clean and metallic, just a hallway with doors, and a large round room at the end. Each door would lead to the same generic room, consisting of a bed and working hygienic facilities. A single chest has been provided for storage and at the side of the hall is a fridge consisting of old world foods such as instamash and bottles of purified water.

[color=9e0b0f]"You arrived, that was your yes, you are in and you will not be going out."[/color] He states, now in full view of them. He is in what appears to be a modified officers uniform, the Anarchist "A" placed over his heart. Fingerless gloves cover his hands and his combat boots are tightly tied around his fatigues. A beret is on his head, keeping the straight black hair fastened to the side away from blue eyes as cold as his hollow voice. [color=9e0b0f]"You will refer to me as seeker, it is my rank and our relationship is purely professional. Seekers are out to kill rogue variables, and to watch your operations to assure you do as instructed. I will be there, but should you be in danger for your own stupidity I will watch you die. I will not be helping you in nearly all situations, you're on your own. Here you will come to me for assignments, and requests. Over time this home will surely expand, as you expand with your skills. Welcome home operatives, welcome to Anarchy."[/color]