Field Commander Daniel Graves
Acheron Recovery Services Bunker
Management Level
Silent Mountain, Montana

Daniel had been around the world countless times. Seen blood, death and misery first as a Delta operator; then as a Direct Action contractor. Watched men and women of experience greater then him turned to bloody confetti in seconds by eldritch abominations or genetically engineered science experiments. Gave a mercy round to a man he had called 'brother' after he had been merged halfway into a wall. Sat through quarterly team building seminars.

But this by far was his personal hell.

Paperwork. Reams of it as rising to his chest from the cheap IKEA desk he had wrestled into the small office. The grandiose branch manager's office having been claimed by his fellow co-manager before his arrival. This office having been already allocated to him by the time of his arrival. A move that he was sure his fellow co-manager had done out of pure practicality; and not the fact he had missed their last counseling session to deal with a security breach.

So here he was. Filling out requisitions and transfers by hand because his network secured computer had been delayed in IT for unknown reasons. Not a problem. Even if his hand was cramping up after literally hundr-

"Attention. Attention. Damage Control teams to briefing room. Damage Control teams to briefing room." The overhead speaker blared in the same tone one would use for announcing in an airport. Bland, monotone, professional. Belying the fact that something had gone horribly wrong somewhere and Acheron would soon be inbound to fix it.

Daniel rose with a sigh and shrugged on his combat jacket. The paperwork could wait. He shuffled around his cluttered furniture and had exited the room in time to nearly run into his fellow co-manager. Field Contract Advisor Samantha Norr was attired similarly to him; gray cargoes and matching combat jacket. Though her boots were some highly polished leather product while his were weather beaten combat boots more spite then leather.

In her grip was a glowing tablet; the familiar scroll of an Acheron contract displayed brightly.

"Daniel" Sam gave a nod. Relatively civil but he would take it. The pair falling in step with each other as they made their way to the elevator. Her gaze buried in the tablet. His watching the flow of Acheron personnel that had begun to stream out with the announcement. People heading for their stations as those on the teams made their way for the briefing room on the top level.

The elevator was a cramped affair; though the personnel within made a respectful distance for the pair of managers. The pair eventually making their way into the briefing room; half full by the rosters standards. Daniel taking his position by the screen and clipping on the small microphone that sat on an unused podium.

"Alright. Briefing in ten minutes. Get settled." He had no idea what the briefing actually was as Sam had the contract information but he was sure she could handle it. At least he hoped.

Steph had fostered expert nap taking abilities. He had learnt to take any opportunities to eat or sleep, on the presumption it would be his last chance. He was dozing soundly in his spartan quarters when the Tannoy blared. He jolted awake suddenly, sat up, and slipped into his boots without actually lacing them up. As he marched down the busy corridor each step clacked twice as his loose boots flapped about. He kept his eyes forward and his mouth shut. He was one of the first in the elevator. Grande stood in front of him. Stokes was one of the smaller men in the force, and Grande completely hid him in the corner of the cramped elevator. The pair of managers stood in the centre. Steph kept his eyes fixed firmly on Grande's back. He made sure he wasn't noticeable as the large group filed out of the elevator. He slipped off to the side of the corridor and knelt down slowly. Getting up and down was arduous anymore for the old gent.

He was one of the last to file into the briefing room at the top of the complex. He entered silently and took care not too meet anyone's gaze. He lurked at the back, standing in the shadows. He clasped his hands behind his back to make himself comfortable, and waited patiently for the brief to begin. Some underlying chatter threaded throughout the darkened room. The main source of illumination was the variety of smart panels highlighting maps, information, and control panels. He looked completely still to any observers, but he was wiggling his toes in his boots. He glanced up at Dan and Sam at the front of the room, before he fixed his eyes back on his black boots.

---

If you had asked Imogen if she would ever find herself in the middle of nowhere, United States, at some facility housing personnel with varying degrees of skills, bloody or worse, and that she would be tasked with ensuring the reputation of said organization remains squeaky clean, she would have had you committed.

And yet, here she was, standing on sunshine-yellow high heels, a phone in one hand, as she made her way to the briefing room. She was having multiple conversations at once via text, while also scrolling through news headlines. To the untrained eye, Imogen looked like a flighty millennial, doomscrollng and being upset at the latest conspiracy theory or some off-handed comment a celebrity made, putting down one of various minority groups.

Oddly enough, that was not far off from her actual job.

No, Imogen knew she was one of the best in her field, which meant her hands were as dirty as the ones who "cleaned up". She may not have the brawn of an ex-soldier or the military training, but with the right tools in her hands, she could be just as deadly.

So as she stood in the cramped elevator, aware of the bodies around her, but ignoring them as she typed on her phone, she knew whatever this call was about would be of grave importance. An "all hands on deck" approach.

She made her way into the briefing room, preferring to stand off to the side. Satisfied she had tied up some loose ends, she put her phone away, finally glancing at the people she had entered with. An assortment of colorful characters gathered in one room. You can bet someone in the world was quaking in their boots.

The Tech who lifts.

Rolling back into the base, the F350 super duty truck was a known vehicle at the gate now, returning from a medical appointment after his short time taken off duty to heal. The truck was a boring regular dark grey and one of the few things the man who drove probably could be comfortable in without getting a CDL.

Its owner handed his ID over and waited for the gate guard before slowly driving off deeper into the base home to the company. Hidden deep within a mountain rock for protection, he never liked the fact that this place you could go days without seeing the sun was a major downside but the pay was great.

His area of the mountain was off a side tunnel and down past where a large fault was filled with a thick layer of concrete and steel. You learned to navigate via the numbers and letters after a time and soon found the “Nerd cave” as some dubbed the space where the resident techs worked.

“Raj, where the laptop gone, the one that came in so broken it was in cowboy English” He asked entirely confused why someone would send a corporate laptop fully in a joke language mode and locked to it. The whole system was fine but just welcomed you to the home screen with Howdy Partner and more.

“Got the rest?” Someone said and saw a large box dropped on the table. Everything, one box. One trip or die. The damn European giant refused to do anything by halves, they had plenty of jokes in the small team about the fact one of them was able to probably bench the rooms combined IQ.

45 minutes later he was walking down as the alarm sounded, dressed in a basic uniform of camo plants, boots and a graphic T that must of had to of been custom made with an image of a T rex with gigantic arms and “gym o sore.”

The sound of alarm and an urgent call had him heading quickly to the meeting room not the office, barely noticing the old guy with a suspicious past on route to lift more interest in the guy who was meant to be the new team leader here. Everyone was already gathering and he dropped the laptop off before finding a spot at the back. “Sorry miss, gotta deliver the post for the boss. And your heels probably cost me a week's salary." he said to the brightly dressed woman in heels, and stepped past with a lot of grace for a 6’8 brick outhouse . Thank you for wrestling. Bypassing her with an apology and an easy confidence he placed the laptop on the new commander's desk making it look more like a toy.

“Hey, Welcome to Team boss, I'm your tech Enzo Wagner. Corporate messed up, got it reset, good to go, sign in, leave it 3 hours, it will be ready. Rest I got from Wall Mart, it's the same stuff as corporate with a different brand and half the price. Thats Admin happy, delivered. Been on me all day.” He said, placing a reinforced laptop, with charger, and a universal plug kit out of his combat pocket.

Heading back to his place he returned, maybe it was not the best move to drop it off now but who knew when else he would catch the man, and he was told to deliver it yesterday by an annoyed admin, so it was delivered. He stayed near the back and rested against a wall waiting.

Soraya Mansour didn't really have downtime, what passed for it was usually spent reviewing case files for specimens and bodies retrieved and held by Acheron and those still out in the field. Part of her work was sifting through photos and documentation of deceased remains to determine which specimens might be interesting for Acheron's purposes, which were safe for examination by local medical authorities and which needed to be prioritized for examination by dedicated personnel with security clearance. It was a lot of accessing and sifting through Acheron databases, consulting with Acheron personnel in the field, or other medical personnel working cases of interest: but it was familiar work.

Then the PA sounded, announcing other matters at hand.

Soraya sat up, rubbing at her temples and adjusted her glasses before securing her workstation. She stood, taking a moment to collect her things, a black leather file folder with a pair of small notebooks she kept inside. She secured her phone, and placed it within the locked panel inside her desk, next to her other phone, and locked them both.

She paused at the threshold to the door, before she shut the light. Examining the office, the thought occurred to her that there was nothing inside to concern herself over. Nothing that might be discovered in her absence that would lead back to her being anything other than she was. Nothing to be worried about, and yet the last check too was a form of a familiar work. So she closed the door and ensured it was locked before heading down the hallway, folder tucked under her arm as she made her way to the briefing room.

Habit forced her to keep alert. She'd spent days after her arrival becoming 'lost' in the facility, mapping her surroundings like a mouse, aware of the entries and exits available to her and others. Where the cameras were placed. Routines.

It was unnecessary, she told herself, but this place still didn't feel safe - not in the way a field medical tent might have surrounded by armed gunmen from paramilitary and terrorist groups whose mental states varied with the weather. At least there she knew where she stood. Here everyone was calm. There were no bodies piling up for her to examine. Not so long ago she'd imagined this as the sort of life she'd have wanted for herself, yet being here stuck in a quiet office only made her feel trapped and useless.

An alarm though promised something different.

She checked her watch and entered the briefing room, pausing just inside the door while she surveyed the scene. "Hello." She smiled at those already inside before taking her seat. There was no hiding her well-polished French-Parisian accent. English had only ever been a secondary pursuit for her, easily the least utilized of the languages on her official resume. At least it had been before this tasking.

Taking her place, waiting for the briefing to begin Soraya was very good at looking like a medical doctor appearing annoyed at being kept waiting by other people - rather than the other way around. It was a sort of annoyed, fidgety energy she'd borrowed from years of observing her own colleagues who were quite certain they could be saving lives right that moment if it weren't for meetings. It was the sort of anxious energy of someone anticipating the sort of rush that would follow whatever an alarm like this was.

Soraya wasn't nervous, or impatient though, but she liked to observe those around her; liked to know the people she was working with. Some of them she'd even quietly arranged through her DSGE and other contacts to see what was known about them.

At the front of the room Graves was standing there, with Norr looking like two professionals who'd rather look anywhere but at each other. It was a habit of the pair, Soraya had noted. Norr seemed like any functionary Soraya had ever known and Graves like every special forces operator that had ever come through one of her medical tents. That the pair had been married was in their file, but she'd have hardly needed a dossier to know there was history there.

Imogene Crestworthy was another member of the Concealment Team, busy texting while waiting for the briefing to begin. Soraya supposed it was the woman's job, but it was still a surreal experience for her after years of secure briefings. Soraya still vividly recalled one of her instructors throwing a lamp across the room after a candidate had brought their phone with them. This had ended with five minute tirade about 'millennials' and the offender in question never being seen or heard from again after being removed by security.

Soraya had to remind herself to keep an open mind. The girl was, by her dossier, fairly good at her work.

Then there was the Tech Giant. Affable. Bringing in unsecured electronics from Walmart. Acheron was certainly different, but then, she supposed the things Acheron dealt with were not the sort of things that engaged in sophisticated intelligence gathering operations.

Soraya looked at the clock on the wall, and frowned.

Then there was the man, Stokes lurking like a dark shadow. He looked like he'd been through ten wars, and the dossier she'd seen threw up more question marks than Graves'. Graves background at least simply disappeared into the infamous Fort Bragg black hole. That was diagnostic of a particular career path. The background of Stephen Stokes, by contrast, had come with hand-written notes from one of her DGSE contacts that his was among the worst false backgrounds he'd ever seen: 100% confidence no professional agency would've signed off on it and no way Acheron hadn't immediately flagged it.

It wasn't out of character for the Americans to choose to employ the man anyway, clearly he had some clout. What was interesting to Soraya was that they hadn't bothered to provide him a proper legend, even though they could have.

Soraya didn't yet trust any of these people, but she was quite certain Stephen Stokes was the one she trusted least.

Field Contract Advisor Samantha Norr
Acheron Recovery Services Bunker
Briefing Room
Silent Mountain, Montana

Sam sometimes wondered as to the sanity of Acheron's IT services. In that the newly built complex was already undergoing a tech upgrade; one that had apparently started in the briefing room if the hazardous arrays of wires splaying from the normally neat podium was any indication.

"Why do they keep changing the cables?" She muttered to herself as she finally pulled the correct one from the rats nest and plugged it into her tablet. The screens on the wall beside beginning to boot up with the input of the tablet's contents. As it did so; Sam cast her gaze around the room.

For the most part it was the usual mix of Direct Action and Field Research types. New hires that hadn't yet had the chance to build up their dossiers to rate more then a casual scrutiny from her. Though she recognized enough of the Direct Action guys to realize that Danny, 'Daniel' she chided internally, had cherrypicked some of his old team for the new branch. Though the co-manager's might have had a few personal issues; she trusted his judgement at least when it came to the job.

The issues lay more to the Field Research and as usual; the Concealment Teams.

In the corner, somehow in the shadows despite the brightly lit room, was Stephen Stokes. A man who's un-redacted dossier still had blacked out portions. A few favors cashed in had revealed that it had come down from up top; which meant her father. A personal call had been followed by a more personal rebuke from the head of Acheron. The only tidbit she had summarized had been Stokes had been a trade with Excalibur International. Not an uncommon occurrence but never to the level of secrecy that she had encountered. She would have to ask Daniel if he still had contact with that former SBS captain on Excalibur's payroll.

The thump of something beside her had her look up at Daniel's spot and- Holy Hell!!!

That was the only thought Sam had as she looked up at the guy dropping off Daniel's missing electronics. She had thought Daniel tall but this man dwarfed him by half a foot and looked like he could bench press the bunker's doors. Then he introduced himself; the name Enzo Wagner ringing alarm bells in her head. The dossier she had read had painted the picture of an intelligent man that wasn't satisfied with the normal usage of his background. The man looked and acted like one of Daniel's shooters but with a pun T-shirt and a surfer boy attitude. His mention of personally sourced electronics though caused her to bite back a frown. She would make sure the policy would be posted in full later.

'Speaking of personal devices'

Their field PR rep, Imogen Crestworthy, was just putting away her phone. Such objects not being allowed inside sensitive spaces. But, Sam would cut her slack for now, this being her first posting with Acheron on the Damage Control teams themselves. She held out hope that she would adapt fast; because Sam didn't want the disaster of having to deal with a disgruntled PR rep. Especially one that was working on the branch's Concealment Teams.

That last thought bringing Sam to the dark gaze of one Doctor Soraya Mansour. Another fragmented dossier like Stokes. Though, complete enough to form a picture that had Sam simultaneously worried and impressed. A spy that had been burned after working in the cauldron of Nort Africa and the Middle East. Places she had not been but Daniel had painted enough of a picture for her to get the point. A female spy who could survive there was a breed of ruthless. Her mission profile reflected enough peculiarities that no branch office kept her around for long enough. She had been bounced around the transient security units of Acheron before being more or less sent to Silent Mountain. Not so much an exile as the company trying to find the right place for a cog in the machine.

The tablet finished uploading its contents at that point. The screens around the room now displaying the data of the current contract.

A map of Utah on one. Road maps and a satellite image focusing on the southwestern side of the state. The latter displaying a small complex of structures that sat at the end of a single paved road; the sole feature of the surrounding area and its scorching sands.

Floor plans dominated another two screens. Blueprints with information blacked out but keeping the general labels of the layout.

The remainder of the screens held a series of pictures. Photographs that looked like they were being taken for security badges.

Sam, satisfied, picked up the second lapel mic and synced it to the rooms speakers.

"Good Morning Team." She had the tone of voice she had perfected from her HR stint. The happy but not exhaustingly so one. "We have just received the first assignment for the Silent Mount branch of Acheron. A lot of pressure I know but I feel that we will perform as well here as any other of the established locations."

She left out that she had wrangled this contract away from the Salt Lake branch at the last minute.

"The contract is with Obsidian Dynamics. They have recently had a panic button pressed at their research center in Utah." A gesture at the screen with the map. " The company has has no contact with the facility for the last sixteen hours. Their security systems are air gapped so they have no idea what occurred. Obsidian has elected to pay the non-disclosure premium so we have no idea the nature of the complex's research."

A grumbling from the Direct Action section. Most of it from Daniel's handpicked shooters. Sam resisted the urge to send Daniel a reproaching look and instead carried.

"The contract is simple. Acheron will re-secure the facility for continued research by Obsidian. While safeing the complex; we will have to locate and extract two individuals. Research Director Yosef Vizer and Head of Security Ava Wiberg." She jabbed a button on the tablet and highlighted the photos of the pair. The former a squat looking man with a receding hairline and bushy eyebrows turning gray. A lab coat barely visible in frame. The Head of Security had a piercing gaze of hazel eyes and fair hair pulled into a severe bun. No makeup adorned her in the photo and images of a crisply pressed suit collar blended in with her sharp angular features.

Sam let the team gaze on their photos before carrying on.

"Obsidian has stated all other personal are to be protected at our convenience. They will carry out vetting at their own expense and time." A corporate way of stating Acheron didn't have to protect or clean up the employees this time. The contract holder wanted to figure out their own house. "Though they did elect to pay the wet work fee. Concealment teams..."

Sam highlighted three photos. They looked different from the other photos. Like they had been pulled from a social media page.

"... the company will handle its own data and security drives this time. Your main concern will be these three. The company was touring a news team for a public relations piece when the facility went dark. Your goal will be to find the news team and erase any evidence they may have obtained. If they are still alive; Acheron will allow any option needed for this contract. Our black site in Oregon is still open. A fund of two hundred thousand will be allocated for bribery, blackmail or discrediting as needed...."

Sam cut a subtle glance at Soraya.

"...in case of those options failing or not being feasible. Termination is authorized."

The pictures showed a stereotypical news crew. A photogenic reporter with dark curly hair and a wide smile. A grizzled camera man with a salt and pepper beard. A slight blonde intern with glasses and a stylish short cut the girl must have picked up in college. Sam tried to ignore the faces and instead began to swipe for the deployment plan she had put together.

"Now as for deployment-"

"We will land in two waves." Daniel cut in then. As if she had been leaving him an opening Striding onto to the room's center after clicking something on his new laptop. A new satellite image superimposed er the old. Emblems and scrawled symbols now decorated the area around the complex.

'How did he?'

"First wave will be me, Kilo and Juliet and the Concealment team. We will land here, here and here. Snipers and a machine gun posted here and here. Entry will be through the front door and the loading bay here. As we proof the initial clearings; the second wave will land. This will consist of Lima and the Field Research section. Ms. Norr will be with the second wave so each wave has leadership. I will establish a command post to coordinate the clearing once we have a handle on the situation. We leave for the airfield at 1100. Kit up, full combat loads, dismissed."

Daniel's presentation was curt. Pointing out the appropriate spots with the confidence of someone who was definitely not as asking. His stance the swagger she had called his "Operator Walk" to his face. He gathered up the laptop, outside devices and all, and left the room.

Realization dawning on Sam as the door swung close behind him.

Not only had he undercut her deployment plan before she could even outline it. He did it in a way that had made it seem as if she had introduced it. Now if she was to put hers up it would look like confusion at the top. Confidence in both of them would waver. And he had left her behind to deal with any questions.

'Bastard'

Not that it was obvious as she adopted a slight smile on her face. Internalizing it for now and debating how to get him back for the slight. The office and the cowboy coded computer obviously not being enough.

"Are there any questions?"

Soraya continued jotting notes through the briefing, and didn't acknowledge Sam's glance during the mention that 'termination was authorized', but felt a prick of annoyance at it.

Just how much had they been told? she wondered to herself. She had to suppress the urge to start going over the list of people who knew with some connection with Graves and his circle to discover the snitch. This whole DGSE thing had turned into a fucking fiasco, but that would have to come later. She had to focus.

The photo of the news crew was important. She made a note to get a copy, but habitually started noting the important details she'd need in the field; body type, distinctive features, she noted them each in turn, which belonged to whom and jotted them down. She'd commit them to memory en route.

Soraya watched Graves' abrupt exit from the room and noted the look on Sam's face. Worth noting. "Questions, yes." Soraya looked down at the paper she'd been taking notes on, tapping her pen against the page. "Are there other exits? Or can we interdict this news team as they leave the facility?"

Soraya leaned back in her chair and pointed to the two entry points noted on the map.

The truth was she already decided she didn't like this facility. She didn't like the fact they knew nothing about what was inside or what had happened inside. She didn't like that her last actual weapons training with DGSE had been, yalla... almost 15 years ago. She didn't like that she'd only just had time to do her first live fire exercise in years just this week. She didn't like she didn't know her team. Was this Imogene even trained at all if things didn't go to plan?

And she certainly didn't like the prospect of conducting her own trial-by-fire in an unknown facility, with an unknown threat, while having to babysit Imogene. The whole thing sat poorly in the deepest part of her psyche where risk-assessments lived.

On the flip side was the thought that if these reporters had gotten themselves into a situation they couldn't get themselves out of: well that was just a problem that solved itself now wasn't it?

Field Contract Advisor Samantha Norr
Acheron Recovery Services Bunker
Briefing Room
Silent Mountain, Montana

"Questions, yes." Soraya looked down at the paper she'd been taking notes on, tapping her pen against the page. "Are there other exits? Or can we interdict this news team as they leave the facility?"

Sam fixed her gaze on Soraya. A slightly more forced smile as she brought up the exterior blueprints.

"The facility should be in a security lockdown. Hence, why the Direct Action teams are breaching their respective entrances. No one, especially the news teams, should be able to exit." She then pointed to some of the symbol's on Daniel's map. Hoping to god that she was pointing out the correct ones. "And the sniper teams and machine gun on the exterior will have clear lines on the exterior. No one will leave without us knowing."

Sam gave a pause. Dark blue eyes meeting Soraya; establishing eye contact as the leadership seminar advised.

"I know you know how to do your job. Just remember that the Direct Action teams don't care about news crews. They care about whatever caused the facility to go dark. We pay you, the concealment teams, lots of money to worry about things like news crews with video evidence. So as long as their evidence remains buried you can sit under an umbrella sipping on Long Islands."

Sam took a breath. Dialing back from what she could tell was becoming hostile. Daniel's little stunt had gotten to her. She had to calm down before she got the reputation as the bad cop.

"I trust you will use your best judgement on this contract. Any other questions?"

The only questions Stephen had could only be answered by getting boots on the ground. But he stayed out of politeness and because leaving early would draw unwanted attention. He listened as the woman who made his skin crawl asked her astute questions. He did not like the Doctor. She was obviously very competent and that is threatening. Along with that, despite her best efforts: the lady was obviously very French, and quite possibly Israeli. He didn't have proof, but he had learnt to trust his intuition. And those two nationalities rang alarm bells in Viktor's mind. Infamously both groups were underhanded and ruthless.

After dismissal Stephen slithered towards his equipment bay. He attempted to inconspicuously stay in Grande's shadow. The giant made a very good foil to Stephen. He was glad to have him on his team. Enzo was competent, and eager to do all of the things that Viktor didn't want to: rig explosives and faff about with computers. The skills that Viktor loathed the most. The M11 would've been Stephen's first choice. He had a very good time with an Albanian M11 in the 90s. But alas, they were increasingly harder to find in this day and age. So he had made due with a tailor made MP7. And a Colt Python he had customised himself. The MP7 was rechambered in FN 5.7, the python had a custom cylinder to fit .44 magnum. 5.7 was a versatile calibre in his experience, and the revolver could made up for it's lack in stopping power. He was lucky Acheron's ammo techs had a good supplier for both.

Along with his PDW and sidearm, he had an Altyn R8 helmet with integrated comms. His face was covered with a spandex balaclava. His black chest rig had a nametag to identify him and monochrome Union Jack on display. He had three magazines, a dump pouch with loose rounds, and a distinct lack of grenades. He had a hefty surgeon's satchel full of a wide-range of cutting edge first-aid equipment and a healthy array of medication vials. Pain relief, nerve-agent treatments, blood clotting agents, wound sealant. You name it: it was in the bag. He even had a compact defibrillator and a gasmask in there. He had a custom thigh holster on his right side that carried his revolver and a new-fangled Jet Injector designed to administer drugs quickly and effectively through clothes. If anyone had watched closely they would notice Stephen is left-hand dominant. His locker also had the keys to the Field Research helicopter. He was ready quickly. He'd had plenty of chances to perfect this get-up and gear up. Alas he still took his sweet time counting out his rounds: just too make sure he was in the middle of the crowd headed for the hangar.

The Tech who lifts.

Typical work, no one was told much as the plans were half redacted. Enzo left talking to someone, gym stuff and how after his injury he needed to work a little to get everything back as before. He was blessed with good genes but a lot of hard work, and many hours of a carefully planned routine, diet and other factors. One did not take the eay route of chemicals theh only left you fucked in the head and the gains all failed soon as you stopped.

No, he was mission focused now as he headed to the armory hoping they would have some gear to fit him once he got a tablet uploaded with the building plans, the known specs they were allowed to see and stuff like Google maps images, anything to help him plan what to expect. The European guy he worked with Stepen…really he was some kind of assumed name but as long as he did his job, Enzo was fine with it. Never met normal people in this job. He was tight lipped about his background to say the least but he never had betrayed him so he got along fine.

“Did it come back in? My old armour was busted up.” He asked having changed with a pretty standard long sleeved top in basic camo for more protection..His armour had to be made to measure as the Armourer grunted with annoyance. “Yes, bloody too heavy too, try not need more. Your old kit was utterly busted. So I raided the freak of nature Isle…” He said without any kind of shame and dropped a pretty standard style pistol most people went on average for. “FN509, 24 rounds, 9mm, let me know your custom order later. Profile said you are good with a rifle, crap at auto and you can handle recoil.. correct.”

Returning with a hefty shotgun that looked like Frankenstein project. “10 gauge Semi. Bullpop drum mag because you euros are bloody crazy that way, recoil compensated but …, custom magazine, made for order and left here. Hits like a bloody truck, and got some spare holo optics on it.”

The shotgun did fit snugly into the Europeans shoulder, he hoped not to use it but then again… it would hit like a truck. Those shells where not 100% factory stuff...

“Nothing else your size this short notice. Fill out the custom forms after.” He said handing over multiple large magazines, bullets, and rest of his gear that was needed.

“Fine, you do love to remind me how I make your day harder.” He joked with the Armourer who tended to be salty… but knew his trade very very well.

….

Loaded up he had everything ready, med kit backpack and webbing with all his various tools of trade, a rugged tablet hung off his chest with plans, and information. He already had partly annotated suspected main power lines and water, where something important might be. Whatever this place did. Someone gave him a short breaching hammer too, much as he disliked being type cast. He was very good at breaking things with it.

He reached the hanger somewhat in a misfit kit after his injury, but it would all get replaced by the next mission, they were pretty good about that. “Wagner. E.” He added the new tape to his chest rig alongside the company logo having to pull the shiny plastic off it.

“Ready to go?” He asked Stepen who looked outfitted rather menacingly but he just had the big shotgun least for most people, hanging half off his chest and was not intimidated though, the direct action cohort gathered off to the side, their own little circle of teams and waited for the others.

"Had to take whatever they had, it il do, but I miss the 30mm..." He said thinking about the 30mm magazine fed grenade launcher he had got one job, that was he had to admit. Pretty awesome bit of kit.

---

As the masses gathered, Imogen kept an eye on some of the parties she was privvy to. Some of it was her ability to read people and some of it was scouring documents and the internet. Granted, a lot of information was redacted or not readily available, but one might be surprised just what information is out there in the ether, whether you want it to be or not.

First, Samantha Norr and Daniel Graves. It was clear, at least to her, that there was an undercurrent of animosity. Moreso directed to Daniel from Samantha. "Those two are sleeping together. Or desperately want to," she thought to herself. Samantha did her best to lasso control back, but it was obvious Daniel had intended to be seen as the leader. Or, at the very least, above Samantha in the hierarchy.

Dr. Soraya Mansour was an interesting character. Her backstory was something out of a spy novel (from what she was able to gather). She was not a people person in her opinion. The fact she spoke up first let Imogen know Soraya took her job seriously. Which was a good thing, but it came wih red flags. Was Soraya a 'get the job done no matter the cost' type? In this field that was something to consider.

The bulk that was one of their IT professionals seemed like a nice enough guy. Enzo was cordial and polite, but you didn't grow muscles like that because you enjoyed lifting weights. No one liked lifting weights. To Imogen, you did so for one of a few reasons. Enzo either was bullied a lot as a child and worked on himself, both body and mind, to tower over those who dared try to hurt him or he was more than an IT person and preferred that work over knocking skulls together. Either way, Imogen was glad to have him on their side.

The walking shadow that was Stephen Stokes was an enigma. Imogen could not get much of a read on him so she had to rely on the tropes. The strong and silent type. Likely served in armed forces at one point where he preferred to be "not seen and not heard" if this brief interaction (or lack thereof) was any indication. He was someone she would keep an eye on. Part of her role was risk assessment and Stephen was a walking red flag. But sometimes waving the red flag was preferred over a white one.

Imogen gathered herself, knowing what her role in this would be. "Two hundred thousand is generous. I can probably do what is neede with half that amount." Her tone read authoriative. She did her job and did it well. She waited a beat before she turned on her heels and walked out to prepare. She needed to gather intel before the team went out. Dossiers on the news team would be best, something she could use to either discredit or discount them. Beat the information before it has a chance to come out. That way, should any of it leak, they would look untrustworthy or insane. Thankfully the internet was a space where either was likely. If the public could be swayed to ignore or disbelieve the information then the job was done.

Part of her hoped termination would be unnecessary, but she would clean up the mess regardless.

Field Contract Advisor Samantha Norr
Acheron Recovery Services Bunker
Briefing Room
Silent Mountain, Montana

"Two hundred thousand is generous. I can probably do what is needed with half that amount."

Sam gave a nod. Making a note of the promise for further review. A measurable best mark to see if Imogen was a boaster or a promiser.

She was about to ask for further questions when she noticed the steadily decreasing population of the room. A glance at the time revealed Daniel's rapidly approaching deadline; not that the Field Research team would leave without her. But the Direct Action shooters would definitely not hesitate to kick out.

"No more questions. Get your kit and prepare to depart." She hoped she didn't sound as frantic as she felt. The subtle thrumming of her heart all to apparent to her. Exiting and hoping to reach Amory #2 in time.

Field Commander Daniel Graves
Acheron Recovery Services Bunker
Armory #2
Silent Mountain, Montana

The Field Research team had trickled in slowly over the course of Daniel's time hack. A wild array of uniforms and equipment pulled from their lockers and their armorer. Quirky choices that Daniel wouldn't really tolerate for his team but they fell under Sam's purview. She could deal with the logistical headache of their calibers and their effectiveness on her side.

Daniel's teams, at least for the moment, wore plain olive drab or tan uniforms. His uniform the sole grey one among the Direct Action teams. Plate carriers and helmets in the ever common OCP pattern; festooned with gear, equipment and ammunition. Balaclavas a standard feature typically but unneeded given the gas masks they were currently sizing to their faces. A precaution for the first wave at least until they could rule out chemical and biological threats.

Their armaments were uniform for the most part. Barring a few specialists and a few of the veterans' he had cherry picked. Mk18's swung in most of the shooters' grips. The usual array of suppressors, laser/light systems and close quarter optics mounted to the user's preferences. Except for the snipers with their large bore custom rifles and the machine gun team lugging their disassembled monstrosity.

Clattering boots preceded Sam's hurried arrival. Panic, visible to Daniel at least, barely suppressed as she hurriedly threw open her locker. As she threw on her gear; Daniel looked over the beast of an IT and the shotgun he was lugging.

"Kind of lot of gun you got there." Daniel said as he sauntered up. His eleven inch barrel even with suppressor nowhere near it's size. "You know you lot are in the second wave right?"

Curiosity as to why the IT guy was kitted out like an action movie hero a welcome distraction at least for the next five minutes.

The Tech who lifts.

Enzo saw Graves was already geared up and ready, clad in a very similar kit to his team; they looked like a sea of uniform In a world of people who were anything but. Very much on the other side, well they were very much more like whatever people felt comfortable with, or just wanted to use. “Hey boss, sorry about delays on stuff, every time I tried to order, something went wrong. So, I had to resort to Walmart…” He said as he shrugged, a minimum 300 + plus pounds of man, armour and gear stood around. He was stuck hauling people's heavy shit too but the breaching hammer was a great tool for non explosive work and when you needed to get creative to solve problems.

“Agh… yes.” He said a little less confidently in regard to his load out and the gun that was more akin to mobile artillery given he was not meant to be in the first wave. “Half my kit got busted or left behind when I was injured. I was caught in a blast, my gear and pack took most of it, armour was busted. Did what felt like half the job hauling a heavy machine gun, and could not hit a barn door with it.” He paused and while not direct action, he knew it could be very dangerous, and shit did tend to happen when you got careless. He was pretty decent with a semi auto and pistol but anything auto and oddly all his accuracy went into the void. He showed the gun, a European design with drum mag and lights plus a short range optic.

“It was to borrow this, or be stuck with a pistol only short notice. I'm keeping it for surprises sir. I've got to order a custom compact but larger grip 6.8mm but I've been pretty busy with all the mission ready, physio, getting signed off.” He said a little embarrassed, between work, physio and everything.. things had not been sorted as they could have been. "Someone thought i might be the best with a breaching hammer... I have no idea why they ask me." He joked more easily and gestured to the tool hanging off his gear.

“i marked a few Interesting points on the pad for later,where might be critical, or just what not make sense. There's a lot of .. and not so many firm answers on the plans. I'll only find out inside." He said pivoting to the building and the mission. He was meant to be the one who worked things out but until he got inside with the limited information he was going to have to work it out as he went along.

Kedem, at this point, had remained silent during the briefing and listened intently to what his first job with Acheron would be. An unknown crisis and rescue, something he should be used to, given his time with his uncle's company. But this will be his first time as a grunt and not in charge of a job. It feels... different, a bit demoralizing to him. But Kedem knows he cannot change what his uncle did, and he doubts anyone will hire him as a commander after what happened with Golem United. Then again, he only got his position through the power of nepotism, and if he were to command again. He would rather get it by merit and not by a family member.

But he got lucky and apparently Acheron seem interested in him enough to hire him. So he will not look a gift horse in the mouth. Kedem knows this and for now. He will just to do what is needed from him. Hopefully, for this job, casualties will be at a minimum. But in this kind of line of work. Hope or prayer may be needed sometimes.

So once the briefing is done, he has no questions. At least none that could be answered. If only Obsidian Dynamics had not signed the non-disclosure premium so, they could at least have some idea of what they were dealing with. Still, he will not complain, but it would suck to die on his first job with the company. So Kedem departed and headed to the armory to get his gear and prepare himself for the job.

Which by the time he reached the armory and was getting his gear. He, in an olive drab uniform like the Direct Action team was in. It looked like that Graves, his new boss, was talking to a member of the Field Research. Enzo, he thinks he name is. Who was packing quite the heat for someone not in the Direct Action team. Plus, the muscles for it and extra. Who was this guy? He talked about keeping it for surprises, and Kedem cannot disagree with that, given the bare intel they have for this job.

Either way, Kedem went to get his gear. Which is what the Direct Action team would receive. Plate carrier, helmet, Mk18 with a suppressor, laser/light systems, and close quarter optics. Plus, some more, and as he finished getting ready, Kedem had to say something to the tech before joining with the rest. "Just be careful where you aim that, okay?" Kedem gave a professional look with a hint of caution. "I'd rather not have a hole in me from that shotgun."

Soraya stayed seated a few moments after the others had already started filing out, furiously scribbling a few more lines on the list she'd started writing up.

Following the mass exodus, she hastened her steps to catch up and match pace with Imogene. "Imogene. It sounds like we can't rely on our targets leaving themselves. Do you think you can get their contact information? One of them at least? Normally I'd do it myself, but, time is short and I have many things to collect. You will do that, yes?"

It was phrased as a question, but Soraya abruptly turned down the hallway back towards her office, apparently in a hurry and not waiting for a response. "I will show you some interesting things. It will be fun! You will see." She called over her shoulder.

---

Soraya didn't join any of the others in the armory. Virtually all of her own field kit list were personal items she kept secured in her office, and a few others - medicines mostly - she had to draw from the infirmary.

She didn't change either, simply tied her hair back and changed shoes to something more field-practical. Then threw a beige cardigan over it all for good measure. Not that she needed a cardigan, but she knew from experience it would conceal the shoulder slung glock and its suppressor attachment from casual observation.

The rest of her kit was in a backpack and an enormous field bag she carried that looked almost as large as she was but carried one-handed even though he caused her to lean and sway slightly to one side as she walked. It looked very much like the sort of medical bags EMT workers carried with them. And indeed, for good measure Soraya wore a lanyard with her picture on it, identifying her as 'Sora Boisvert - Executive Protocol MEDIC'

People usually responded better to a private security team and field medic looking to assist over just a bunch of armed suits there to ensure their silence.

And in fairness, much of the equipment within actually was medical in nature. Mostly the sort of equipment and medicines you wouldn't find in a front line medic's bag, the sort of things a physician picked up for themselves over a career spent bouncing between threadbare field hospitals in conflict zones. Though she mostly stocked things beyond what front-line medics were trained for - there were already a few of those on hand. These were things that would be useful if anyone were seriously injured.

Or if their targets decided to be noncompliant.

There were also a few non-medical pieces of tradecraft Soraya anticipated would prove useful in getting to their targets in the first place.

Field Commander Daniel Graves
Acheron Recovery Services Bunker
Armory #2 -> Airfield
Silent Mountain, Montana

“I marked a few Interesting points on the pad for later, where might be critical, or just what not make sense. There's a lot of .. and not so many firm answers on the plans. I'll only find out inside."

"Don't focus on the blueprints. Half the time they're out of date or the ones that they give us are the sanitized versions. Leave out the stuff like the laser traps, the underground death factories the employee restrooms..." A slightly pissed off look on his face as if recounting a previous mission. It faded quickly as he caught sight of Kedem saunter up. "...Just do you're best."

Graves turned to Kedem; one of his more peculiar shooters that he hadn't yet had a heart to heart with.

"Kedem, you're going to run with Juliet for this op. Avery is your team lead but impress me and you might get the job if it opens." The statement matter of fact. A beeping of an alarm had the commander consult his watch and a frown cross his face. A turn of his head to bellow to the room.

"Vans are here for the airfield! Juliet, Kilo, Concealment teams; time to load up! Second wave stand by." Graves eyeing the procession shuffle out of the armory; the kitted up shooters of the DA teams contrasting greatly with the more casual and lightly equipped ensemble of the concealment teams. His eyes falling on the massive pack of Dr. Mansour.

A wild card to say the least. Well he knew she was a killer at least. Not the particulars but the fact that she was a medical doctor on a Concealment team didn't leave a lot of use for that skill set outside the morbid. But Graves honestly couldn't care less about her history. His concern lied with results.

It was why he didn't say anything about the survivor of Golem United he had on his team. Why he didn't question a man from another branch with more black ink then his own dossier. Why his teams had the most dynamic personally quotient of any other location.

Results were what brought teams home.

And that was all Daniel cared about.

*****

The journey to the airfield had been rather mundane for the buildup. The vans looked like oversized postal trucks; one step below armored cars in their hidden protection. Their insides lined with seats and shelfs for DC teams and their accompanying equipment. A jolting drive down the switchback road to the airfield ended with the pair of vans pulling in front of a nondescript hangar. Within it, a trio of heavy duty CH-53 helicopters.

However, these weren't the usual blacked out aircraft void of markings. Instead, they wore the livery of the United States Park Services. A paper thin disguise given the fact these were heavy duty lift aircraft; but one that tended to work for its purposes.

Graves motioned at the birds without a word. The DA teams starting the processes of lugging their extra gear and equipment to the helos.

Field Contract Advisor Samantha Norr
Acheron Recovery Services Bunker
Airfield
Silent Mountain, Montana

The last bird of the trio had been given over to the second wave. Sam taking in the interior of the helicopter with an observing eye. The formerly spartan interior bay having been renovated for a more comfortable flight. Web seats having been replaced with actual cushioning and mounts. A feature the Field Research bird's only tended to have; the Direct Action helos still maintaining their standard issue trappings.

"Well, at least it has the new car smell." Sam flashed a grin at the person next to them, Stokes, in this case. The advisor pushing the dangling MP5K further back on her hip while swinging off her small assault pack into a locker bolted into the floor. She still wore her grey uniform; a plate hanger with three magazines now covered her torso. Dark braid pulled into a ballcap and highly polished boots that came to the knee.

Outside the whine of an engine starting up signaled the first wave's impending departure.

Soraya exited the vans behind the direct action team, taking a moment to slide and heft the heavy bag out of the back of the van before hurrying her pace after them. She seemed somewhat at ease moving between the vehicle and waiting helicopter, settling in quickly, stowing her kit, and leaning in towards Imogene partly to get her attention even though they had to speak over comms to be properly heard over the noise and ear protection. "What do you think should be our cover story, for this incident?"

It made perfect sense for them to plan their concealment approach before they arrived, and this was an open invitation for Imogene to demonstrate her primary competency and focus on something she knew well. There was a certain responsibility Soraya felt for the people she was on the team with. Most of them were younger. And while this was her own first mission with the group: it wasn't her first mission. Going into conflict zones. Riding in choppers. She'd trained for these things extensively. Done them around people shooting in situations where the possibility of being seriously injured, killed or kidnapped was quite real.

She wanted a sense before they touched down on how Imogene was handling things. The Direct Action people, she noted with approval, looked and moved like the sort of direct action people she'd known, trained and worked with over the years. Imogene she was watching; observing how comfortable, nervous or excited she appeared and how well she handled her core responsibilities in a dynamic environment.

It was all information that told Soraya what she'd be working with.

"And did you manage to find anything on our news team?"

The Tech who lifts.

The ride over in thr vans was about as comfortable as a van could be, the suspension was not exactly soft and it was designed for practicality not comfort and luxury. But all in all it beats having to walk so…

Enzo dropped his bag with explosives tools and additional gear stocked as required and strapped that down in centre locker, the familiar drill and training of making sure the bag was strapped down, the straps were given the customary tap and it will not go anywhere before he went to make sure his own person was secured and strapped into the helicopter harness. Ain't no one could rely on a strap that had not been blessed with that ancient ritual of stowage.

“Where's the snack service.” he joked and patted his chest pocket with a look the man found something.

It was a little snug and a little tighter but well that could not be avoided when the already big man was clad in armour, gear and various accessories. He reached over, found a breakfast bar and snacked on that. “Got spares, if anyone's hungry. Nervous is one thing, but hungry too. No.” He forgot to eat before and it was annoying. Everyone needed to be on their A game and not distracted by hunger etc. Snacks were small, but you knew when you forgot them.

“Ready boss?” He asked politely as the large scale European scanned the rough floor plan of the location to location to commit lest the very basics to his memory, where exits are, where the access ways up and down should be etc. He adjusted the headset for comfort again, the normal sized people's world was … normal sized… He was not normal. Someone decided he got scaled up.

He sat opposite Samatha and Stokes. The man was… they could work together and did not mind the man, some of him was a total mystery though. Even he, the tech guy could tell that Samatha and Graves had some kind of prior, what it was he had no idea but the two seemed determined to get the last word in, as long as whatever tension did not lead to conflicts on mission. Enzo was fine with it.

As they disembarked from the vans, Fabio took a few moments to stroll over to a discrete corner and take a couple of selfies, tilting his head to one side to make sure he captured the Ray-Ban logo on his aviators. The ladies loved a man in uniform, but he'd discovered that the officers got annoyed if posted things to Instagram with things in the background like 'disguised vehicles' and 'classified documents'. It was, he suspected, because they didn't look as good as Fabio in tactical gear.

He checked his phone, making sure he had a good one, then jogged over to the helo to get on with the rest of the direct action team, "So we just work on the assumption the journalists are enemy combatants?" he queried, having translated Norr's briefing in his mind to mean 'kill the journalists'.

Field Commander Daniel Graves
Acheron Recovery Services Bunker
Airfield
Silent Mountain, Montana

Daniel had slumped in his seat at the rear of the first helo. Eyeing the last arrival as the Italian stowed his deciding unregulation phone away in a pouch.

"So we just work on the assumption the journalists are enemy combatants?" he queried, having translated Norr's briefing in his mind to mean 'kill the journalists'.

Graves cast a double glance at Fabian. Incredulity mixing with disbelief.

"No..." He drew the word out. "... the enemy combatants are the science experiments that overran the facility. The Concealment Team will take care of the journalist. Just holler if you see them."

A slight sense of vertigo as the helo began to lift off. The rest of the birds following; leaving the landscape of Montana behind. Graves settling into his seat for the duration of the flight time.

A short nap was in order.



Obsidian Dynamics Research Facility
Utah

One would wonder why when making a desert based complex; Obsidian Dynamics had constructed the metal and glass architectural monstrosity. The dark colored metals and tinted glass seeming to suck in the heat and sun of the daylight. At least that was Daniel's take as he stood in the parking lot.

MK18 slung casually as the horde of Direct Action shooters spread out in front of him. Buffeted by the winds of the helos that had landed in the half full parking lot. Sports cars, SUVS and junkers alike sprayed in a fresh wave of sand as the three helos touched down.

Which was definitely not the plan but Graves would deal with that later. For now his eyes took in the building; the polarized glass hiding whatever chaos had been done inside. Though the main entrance doors concerned him. Mainly the crumpled sections that looked as if something had tried to punch its way out of the fortified main doors. Kilo team reporting a similar happenstance on the Loading Bays.

Which meant that whatever was inside was still inside. Contained at the very least.

It also meant that they would now have to open up the building to get at it. And risk potentially letting it out if they failed.

Graves gave a sigh as his vision was flooded with that damn precognition. A brief flurry of images and sensations that he had would decipher later. For now all he knew was that he would have to open it up.

"Well let's get this over with." He motioned for someone to begin the breach. The Direct Action Teams Lima and Juliet tensed. The snipers and machine gunners having bounded off into the desert to set up their positions.

"Shouldn't we try to minimize our impact on the policy holder's?" Graves couldn't tell whether Norr was trying to backstop herself or just get back at him. He met his ex's face with a smile, not that she could see it under his gas mask.

"Of course. Grande, Stokes. Blow the door open...respectfully please."