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[color=Silver]	More and more people were going in, harshly. One by one they were all being monitored by those who were yet to await their turn from computers in the corner of the warehouse. Sat upon some desks that were not in use for the kill-house, they kept a grim, grey and dismal colour tone to their projection. Their sound was minimal and definitely overshadowed by the Goliath of noise coming from within their mock-up operation. Most of the time, they all watched in silence, a few individuals occasionally making a comment or two for the individual taking part. They all went according to volunteering, and first of all was [i]Ghost[/i]. In all honesty, Frankie was somewhat lacking any strong impression of amazement, but he did pull his weight enough to bypass the expectations. Alexandr, of course, would not be impressed by the slightest, though he would be disappointed even if they had completed their exercise. Mark, who had found a way to mask himself as a terrorist, was easily noted as the one to take down the new operator. Franklin was more than sure that Olivier, Monika and Liu were all placing bets on who would eliminate each operator, who would conjure victory or who would fall flat onto their face in defeat. Stood high above the rest on a catwalk, their overhead position allowed for them to monitor all that occurred without disrupting the [i]Lord's[/i] plans of training.

	Franklin watched from the rear of the group. Several men and women of the new and old Rainbow roster were determined to chuckle and commentate to one another on their comrade's progress. When one would fail, the next would go in and see if they could prove their worth more than the last. However, every run was relatively the same but with a different ending. Each got caught in some frantic illusion that did not hold high hopes for the future. Yet at the same time some could argue that this was a short-notice operation without much functionality, but Franklin himself even knew that no operator was ever going to go through a textbook operation, especially with the White Masks violating the human rights commandments throughout the world. Eventually the mantle fell upon himself when Ella was knocked out fo the competition. Franklin noticed that all those who had entered thus far were the new-bloods to Rainbow, making him feel somewhat guilty. More to the point, he could not live with the thought of going last and having to create some sort of expectation for the lesser-experienced, but that in itself made for some determination. When Ella was outside, he stepped forward to greet her halfway.[/color]

[color=Red][b]"Must say, you had one of the best starts yet. Usually the greater the beginning the smoother the conclusion, but you did slip up with that thrill. I expect the lads inside told you that though. Good job, at least."[/b][/color] [color=Silver]He patted her on the shoulder and began to tighten up his head-gear. With a helmet standardised for Rainbow Operators atop of his balaclava and [i]goggles[/i], he was now ready to begin his own tactical insertion towards the battle at hand. Before he left Ella to her own devices, he stared at her in a strange manner and sighed to himself with deprecation towards himself:[/color] [color=Red][b]"Don't expect too much."[/b][/color]

[color=Silver]	The first stage was clear, simple and calm. Scouting out the area from the outside was the best he could find. Someone had taken a vent already so the security may have been tightened in that area. It was strange knowing that the mock-up terrorists inside were not fluent in the building's design and were equally as challenged for maximum efficiency. However it was here that Franklin had one step ahead of them for. Unlike [i]Songbird[/i] or [i]Ghost[/i], under the alias of [i]Sonar[/i] Franklin had eyes everywhere. With the press of a button, a small gleaming emerald light emitted from the eyepiece and sprung to life. He sat by a wall, where a few windows of possible entry were awaiting scrutiny. With only a second to boot up, his prize possession and creation was now coming to show its wings. The talons of this mechanical creature stretched out and gave him the power of sight, using the complicated inner-workings of an Echelon's original blueprints to ping his limitations of vision through walls. Its accuracy was based off of the pinging sensation, so those who moved quick enough could attempt to confuse its user, but without the bar of suspicion raised, Franklin knew that their speed would be either slow or static.

	Several pings into its function, Franklin remained very still in order to scan those around him. Only his head and body could twist in circles as moving forward too quickly would fuzz or distort his gear's ability. To allow him to twist enough Franklin had holstered his M16A3 rifle into a sling whilst only having his sidearm deployed for uncoordinated dangers that might spring from their traps. But a second or two more passed and he could finally take in all that there was from this first room.

	On the left were two [i]terrorists[/i] standing beside one another, most likely discussing plans or tactics. It was that or the two were enjoying a small spot of roleplaying, getting themselves into character to make the experience just that little bit more authentic for those entering. Either way, he didn't care too much about the details of their discussion and left his mind to account for any others. From the repulse of both physical objects and sound, the rest within his range were easily seen on opposite sides of walls and windows, out of view for the time being. It was hard to locate the biohazard container that he had been briefed upon as he did not fully know its appearance, meaning that if it was within range of the sonar pulse it would not be recognisable as a silhouette. But with that in mind, Franklin slowly holstered his sidearm and reached for the primary armament, slowly rising his head in line with the window, his goggles still turned on. Due to their activation, he kept his movement slow and raised his weapon to line up with the two. With a deep breath, he squeezed the trigger and began his own operation.

	With the quick bursts of his trigger finger, the weapon was easy to adjust to as he had trained with it more than enough times. Preferring a controlled semi-automatic configuration, he conserved his ammunition to eject two or four rubber pellets into those stood beside, who let out a pained groan from their unexpected shot of pain. It would be here that most, if not all, operators would leap in and secure their room, but Franklin had ideas of his own. He could feel the eyes of the other operators judging his strange decision, especially considering none of them really had any idea what his gear was. But he remained put, allowing his goggles to take up their position and spy through the walls adjacent to the room he'd chosen to enter. And as expected, he could see the first few panicked respondents slowly approaching the doors. When the first knocked her way into the room, Franklin had been more than prepared to anticipate her move, opening a few more shots onto her. Instinctively, she fell onto the floor to respond to the collision of ammunition and allowed for him to monitor the situation further.

	The plan he had used was somewhat devious and successful in its smartened way, but it could take an experienced combatant to understand that repeating what those who entered the room had done would be a great mistake. He could even see it through the walls, others running away or forming makeshift fortifications within ambush points. It was up to Franklin to make the next move.

	Whilst he stood relatively still or moved at a snail's pace, he could see where they were hiding. But to climb through the window and quickly find cover was a reason for the goggles to be deactivated. Another flick of a button shut them down and regained his natural sight, allowing him to clamber inside and rush for cover. Now that the echo of the warehouse was behind him, the confined noise rebounded between each of the wooden walls. As his training within the RMC easily stated, his eyes and ears were always trailed onto the door, yet still were able to warn him of any traps, obstacles or risks surrounding his body. For a minute or two, he remained on his knee, waiting for something to happen, but the waiting game was only going to reduce his chances of success. Meaning he had to formulate a plan, Franklin took to his natural instincts and suppressed the door for a second before dashing to his right, manually breaching the second door. On the other side, a somewhat surprised Mark, still masked from earlier, was impacted with several rubber bullets before Franklin continued to press on. His heart raced and spun like nothing else. When he passed over Mark, he muttered to himself with a frantic grin beneath his facial gear:[/color]

[color=Red][b]"No hard feelings, you old bugger."[/b][/color] [color=Silver]Continuing his push, another armed guard emerged from cover, laying down suppressive fire to halt his advancement. It forced him to step aside into a small cupboard space, narrowly avoiding the first line of pellets that were due to hit him. It was here that his instincts kicked in further, allowing him to turn his rifle back the way he came and notice the fifth man preparing to fire upon him. And with a tight time limit between the two, Franklin shot first and dropped them before his life was doomed to fail. It raised his tension tenfold and forced him to almost pass out from the rush of blood to the head. But the panic and minor distortion of concentration had left part of his body exposed, allowing the previously stationary guard to push up and fire multiple painful rubber pellets into his side, causing him to fall onto the floor with a large yell.[/color] [color=Red][b]"Agh! Fuck, you bloody cunt!"[/b][/color]

[color=Silver]	And just like that, it was all over. From when he had first set foot within the building, it must have been a minute or two before he was gunned down ruthlessly by his masked allies. Time had flown so quickly that it almost felt futile and worthless to even have Franklin attempt. It seriously began to downtrodden his self-esteem on the matter but he hid it well enough to regain his composure. There, Mark shook his hand and ushered him outside for the next combatant to enter.

	When he emerged, there was a strange sight from those gathering around the desks. He felt a strange anxiety kick in from the new-bloods awaiting for him to say something. His mind and heart raced once more, seeing Jess, Ella and several others eye him down. In his own head, they were judging his performance and preparing to dismiss him as one of their own. Such thoughts caused for irrational reactions that were seemingly unprovoked.[/color]

[color=Red][b]"Someone else go now. I...I'm going to report to [i]Six[/i] for something."[/b][/color] [color=Silver]And before he left the window of opportunity for someone to stop him, he saluted the training officer Alexandr and took off outside of the warehouse, escaping the kill-house once more. Hopefully the next few days in the downtime was going to play a better part...[/color]

[sub][@Oskar DiLondra][/sub]