Episode 1: Missing In Action
The room is consumed by darkness, there is nothing but silence. A rugged looking man stands, his gun in the shoulder, ready. Distant gun fire smashes through the silence, followed by unearthly screams.
The rugged man looks intently down the sight of his EBR, his gaze, his resolve, unwavering. The gun fire intensifies, closing on his position.
The door bursts open, the rugged man doesn't flinch, he trains his weapon on the opening. A man is heard screaming out in pain.
Suddenly, a figure fills the open door, It's the target. The Rugged man fires two shoot into the being. It responds by dropping to the ground with an agonised scream, it sounds vaguely Human, but its not, at least not entirely.
The being then, almost impossibly, darts at him knocking him through the wall behind him. His vision blurred, his ears ringing, he tries to respond to the threat but falls unconscious.
"Whoa!!!" Jenkins flies forward, awaking abruptly from the vivid dream.
‐-----------
The Splash water across his face is enough to wake him fully. He grabs his everyday black fatigues and pulls them on.
------------
"MTF Omega I to report to the Briefing Room, MTF Omega I to report to the Briefing Room"
Present Day
The Briefing Room
0400hrs
Bare white walls, immaculate, sterile, almost clinical in their appearance encases minimal furnishings. A meager desk sits before two rows of meager, yet somewhat comfortable, chairs.
A well dressed man sits upright at the desk. He barely moves, only his eyes flit back and forth as they scan the notes before him.
The door to the room swings open, a rugged looking man in black combat fatigues enters, a peculiar looking man, a piece of his ear missing, his stone cold eyes. This man has seen some shit.
The Well Dressed man stands, robot-esque, as the man approaches the desk.
"Ah 416, it's a pleasure" he raises a hand to shake.
416 looks the Well Dressed Man in the eyes, he takes his hand, squeezes it and gives it one solid shake.
"Please, the formalities aren't necessary" His English accent echoes around the room. The Well Dressed Man looks somewhat confused.
"Jenkins is fine, 416 isn't necessary" he offers a half smile.
The Well Dressed Man nods in understanding.
"As you wish 4- Jenkins" He gestures for Jenkins to take a seat, Jenkins obliges. The Well Dressed Man does the same at his desk.
"The rest of the team?" The Well Dressed Man asks.
"I'm sure they'll be along momentarily.
The Well Dressed Man takes a slow sip of water.
"... So you have your own squad now Jenkins, Pleased?"
Jenkins scoffs slightly.
"Do I really have to answer that?"
The Well Dressed Man simply stares.
"Look, I know we-"
The comment is interrupted by the loud opening of the Briefing Rooms only door.
The rest of the team are arriving.
The room is consumed by darkness, there is nothing but silence. A rugged looking man stands, his gun in the shoulder, ready. Distant gun fire smashes through the silence, followed by unearthly screams.
The rugged man looks intently down the sight of his EBR, his gaze, his resolve, unwavering. The gun fire intensifies, closing on his position.
The door bursts open, the rugged man doesn't flinch, he trains his weapon on the opening. A man is heard screaming out in pain.
Suddenly, a figure fills the open door, It's the target. The Rugged man fires two shoot into the being. It responds by dropping to the ground with an agonised scream, it sounds vaguely Human, but its not, at least not entirely.
The being then, almost impossibly, darts at him knocking him through the wall behind him. His vision blurred, his ears ringing, he tries to respond to the threat but falls unconscious.
"Whoa!!!" Jenkins flies forward, awaking abruptly from the vivid dream.
‐-----------
The Splash water across his face is enough to wake him fully. He grabs his everyday black fatigues and pulls them on.
------------
"MTF Omega I to report to the Briefing Room, MTF Omega I to report to the Briefing Room"
Present Day
The Briefing Room
0400hrs
Bare white walls, immaculate, sterile, almost clinical in their appearance encases minimal furnishings. A meager desk sits before two rows of meager, yet somewhat comfortable, chairs.
A well dressed man sits upright at the desk. He barely moves, only his eyes flit back and forth as they scan the notes before him.
The door to the room swings open, a rugged looking man in black combat fatigues enters, a peculiar looking man, a piece of his ear missing, his stone cold eyes. This man has seen some shit.
The Well Dressed man stands, robot-esque, as the man approaches the desk.
"Ah 416, it's a pleasure" he raises a hand to shake.
416 looks the Well Dressed Man in the eyes, he takes his hand, squeezes it and gives it one solid shake.
"Please, the formalities aren't necessary" His English accent echoes around the room. The Well Dressed Man looks somewhat confused.
"Jenkins is fine, 416 isn't necessary" he offers a half smile.
The Well Dressed Man nods in understanding.
"As you wish 4- Jenkins" He gestures for Jenkins to take a seat, Jenkins obliges. The Well Dressed Man does the same at his desk.
"The rest of the team?" The Well Dressed Man asks.
"I'm sure they'll be along momentarily.
The Well Dressed Man takes a slow sip of water.
"... So you have your own squad now Jenkins, Pleased?"
Jenkins scoffs slightly.
"Do I really have to answer that?"
The Well Dressed Man simply stares.
"Look, I know we-"
The comment is interrupted by the loud opening of the Briefing Rooms only door.
The rest of the team are arriving.