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Stephen Stokes, The Old War Criminal

Soraya Mansour, The Mossad Spy with the Corporate Paycheck

Enzo “Grande” Wagner, The IT Guy Who Can Bench His IQ

Imogen Crestworthy, The PR Rep That Lets Us Get Away With Murder

Kedem Girma, Traumatized Seer on a Probationary Trial

Fabio Fazzone, The Make-A-Wish Italian Stallion

Redecker Kreuger, The Bald Leopard

Non-Player Characters




In The Black


Welcome,
You have obviously passed our many vigorous background checks and qualifications to be here today. Here of course being a member of Acheron Recovery Services; one of the premier members of our field. Not only that, you have been selected along with many of your peers to staff the latest branch of ARS. Built out of a decommissioned US Air Force base and abandoned missile silo complex; Silent Mountain, Montana is our latest and greatest facility in our strive to deliver our product. Excellent consumer protection.

Now while you should have received several materials covering our company and its work. I pride myself on thoroughness. So allow me to reiterate the purpose of our new branch. Many corporations and government agencies constantly partake in various experiments and test in efforts to push the boundaries of the known. However, sometimes they push too hard. Or maybe someone gets too squeamish. Or perhaps they should have sprung for a stronger lock on the cage containing the dimensional warhound.

Whatever the reason; accidents happen. Rather then throw more resources, time, and lives, trying to contain these incidents; we are instead called. For a competitive fee at varying levels of coverage; Acheron Recovery Services handles the containment, disposal and clean-up of whatever mishap might have occurred. With our wide roster of specialist and personnel we are more then capable of proving ourselves in any situation. And it shows.

We are one of the youngest entities in our business and we have already bought out our previous North American competitor, Sandstorm Consulting. Of course our efficiency is well noted by several competitors who are jealous of our success. Something that has led to less then cordial relations on occasions when interests or contracts conflicted.

But don't worry about that. Acheron is the top of the business for a reason.

And I know you will continue to contribute to that reason.

Signed,
Samantha Norr
Acheron Recovery Services HR Director; Silent Mountain Branch










Branches:
Specialization is the key to any successful Damage Control Operation. Acheron having broken down itself into three semi-distinct chunks for ease of deployment.

Direct Action:
The doorkickers and frontline troopers of Acheron. First in and last out; Direct Action is where a good chunk of Acheron's work is done. It ranges from the troops fast roping out of helos to the pilots of said aircraft. They are make up a good proportion of Acheron's personnel. That being said it also has the highest attrition rate within the company; with the experienced survivors tending to transfer into management or other branches at the first opportunity. Some like to stay however; whether it be for the thrill or the hazard pay. Direct Action might not be the safest posting in Acheron; but its definitely among the most lucrative.

Field Research:
The brains to Direct Action's brawn; this branch often masterminds the solutions to containment problems incapable of being solved via more ammunition. Ranging in expertise; this branch draws from the main and fringe bodies of known knowledge. Psychics and self-proclaimed sorcerers working alongside the likes of nuclear physicists and roboticists. Usually with the second wave of Acheron to arrive on scene (but not always; Field Research typically has the lowest casualty rate among the company. Though accidents do happen and there have been incidents of R&D taking a turn for the worse in some of Acheron's self-performing research. That, and lowest casualty rate doesn't mean its a minuscule rate.

But the optometry plan for Field Research is the best of the company.

Concealment Teams:
An oddity; Concealment Teams are a mix-mash of personalities and skills. Former international assassins to con men. Hackers, demolitionist experts to pr specialists. Their sole concern being destroying any knowledge of the incident leaking to the public at large. Ranging from straight up assassination to discrediting via social media platforms; the concealment teams have as much leeway as they need to get the job done. Often following, if not in tandem, with Direct Action teams; they focus not on the threat itself but rather making sure no one outside the company or the client know of the threat. Concealment Teams are one of the most critical aspects of Acheron's contracts. As such they are a highly monitored and regulated branch that tends to attract those the company finds reliable (or malleable). It pays to be the best of the best though.

Application:

Name:

Age:

Appearance: (Can be a picture or description.)

Nationality:

Branch: (Direct Action; Field Research ; or Concealment Teams)

Role/Occupation: (No need to get specific unless you want to.)

Skills:

Weaknesses: ( Not needed but it helps make your character feel rounded out)

Background/Biography: ( Two paragraphs minimum please. No need for excessive detail. Just the gist of how they came to be where they are; whether that be valued employee, naive new hire or incidental press ganged survivor).
<Snipped quote by Terrans>

I say you go ahead.


It is done. Perhaps we can have a butting of heads in the next section.
Commander Stader Volger
89th LSC CO


Volger was still counting down internally when he heard it. His helmet’s audio system was some of the finest Imperial credits could buy. Capable of enhancing sounds to a certain threshold while dampening those above it. Namely, gunshots and explosions.

Muted gunshots being a bridge door and muffled screaming met the audience enhancement threshold.

Images of the pirate factions on the Venture came to mind.

“Blow it!!!” He ducked behind the corridor. It might make for a poor prize ship now; but he consoled himself with the fact that he probably wasn’t getting some of the payout anyways.

Volger could admit he hadn’t yet experienced hull charges in atmosphere. Much less eight daisy chained.

But he was thankful for the aforementioned hearing protection and the enclosed nature of his armor.

The deck shuddered and some of the Onyx troopers and Reavers staggered despite their mag boots.

“Move. Move.” He didn’t bother with internal comms. He was using the loudspeaker function. Voice booming through the corridor for all to hear.

A trio of Onyx troopers made it through the previously intact bridge door first; following in handfuls of stun grenades that elicited pained screamed from already dazed pirates.

Reavers and more troopers followed in their wake. Gunshots and automatic fire flare briefly but died down by the time he strolled onto the bridge. PDW half raised.

The bridge was a wreck. Half of the door had been propelled into the room; where it had crushed a pair of unfortunate pirates still strapped into their consoles. Corpses slumped in chairs or sprawled on decks. The crew dead for the most part except one.

A tattooed young man still strapped into a comms station in the bridge’s corner. Eardrums burst and bleeding. Lip quivering as he raised his hands; two blue aiming lasers hovering over his heart. The troopers kept their aim on him and their armored bodies between the private and the Reavers.

The latter currently taking their “loot” from the various bodies sprawled in the room.

Volger paused at a body. The corpse on his stomach head to the door; yet he bore entrance wounds on his back. Implying he had been shot from inside the bridge. But the bodies within all looked like form the same faction.

Curiouser

Volger allowed himself. He took in the room and their status updates Diaz was feeding him.

”Onyx-9 Actual to Indomitus. Shrike has been seized. Venture is locked down and secondary sweeps under way. Request rendezvous for casualty and prisoner transfer.”

A particular crunch had Volger look over. A Reaver was busy plucking gaudy golden teeth from what looked like a former heavy worlder’s mouth.

He frowned under his helmet.

Savages. I’ll have to talk to the Captain. Or perhaps the prince.’
I think we're good to move on to the next phase.


Do you wish to finish out the the frigate or do you want me too?
Kreznik Broeke
Spymaster of the White Wyvern


Andronika might have been surprised, or perhaps she expected, th greeting she received as she returned to her quarters.

“So now we are joined to another faction; on the march to fight another. Or at least we will be after tomorrow. ” Kreznik chimed from the corner of her quarters; peeling an apple. The slightest of dust on his boots hinting at the ledge he must have perched on to overhear her conversation with Arel.

A slice of apple disappearing as he took in her ensemble. A look crossing his face with an upraised eyebrow.

“Did he offer a marriage as well to seal this deal in advance?” His tone dry but a slight tightness in his shoulders.

A breath released it and he set the apple not a paternalist it’s peeled skin.

“Anyways, I took the liberty of sending a runner back to the main body. I assumed you would approve.”

@Dyelli beybi

******

Ebengrenzstadt

It was with little fanfare that the Hound made his way into the White’s headquarters. His horse exhausted and the the rider little better off. Liam Calvary uniform bore the hard miles of his sprint as he made his way past the gauntlet of guards, aides and officers that had seemingly increased in his absence. No doubt a consequence of the three thousand extra men that had arrived.

The Hound clutched the dispatch as he surmounted the final pair of guards for the war room.

Loan, Alberic and Vassos discussing something of the army that had sprung in Andronika’s absence.

“Sirs.” He started. To the uninformed; his calvary uniform and markings were that of the regular army. To those of the inner circle; he was clearly a Hound. Which meant his word could only have come from a few people as the majority of the inner circle was within walking distance. “Spymaster Broeke sends word. We have an alliance with the imperials in the west. The army is to march for Elvesland. We will meet the Lady and the western imperials on the road.

He passed over the dispatch. The simple seal of a dogs head on the parchment. The words within a more detailed instruction of Liam’s news. Though the dispatch, penned in Kreznik’s hand and bearing his signature, seemed to indicate this was Andronika’s wishes.

@Badarby @InfamousGuy101 @Dyelli Beybi
John


John actually gave a look around the bridge to make sure there wasn’t a camera crew.

‘Looking for Sol?’

He let out a scoff. What were they the latest Galaxy Force flick? He could see the title now; Galaxy Force: The Search for the Lost Homeworld.

“Much as I would love to go on a galaxy spanning adventure in the hope Earth hasn’t been mulched by the machines; I think our first jump should be more short term.”

He gestured at the star chart and its various projections and data.

“Mainly, a place to stock up for the short term. Perhaps a place to dump some people who don’t want to stay on a colony ship. Cut some of the chaff out now.”

A few star systems had the symbology he was looking for.

“Some suspected wildcat colonies might be what we need.” He glanced around the room. Meeting the major personalities that were steering this planning. “No need to rush from adrenaline and survival to jumping a search that has lasted generations. Let’s get situated for the immediate future and vote on our course later.”

He glanced around the room again. Mentally tallying whether they would hop onto his plan or not.

If not he would need to repair the shuttle. Get an escape plan ready. Maybe invite a few of the more upstanding crew as he exited stage left.

Not the toad though.

Definitely not him.

Aden


Aden stood his post at the machine gun. Watching the Favian Officer talk to the leader of the Mitteland contingent.

Apparently they reached some kind of consensus because the post captain came back aboard.
Reaching one of the PA systems, he wired it into the all hands mode. “All Hands, Mitterland Army has come with legal orders to take over the air ship, I have handed it over on terms you can leave with all personal arms and effects belonging to you, the captain shall be respected and all will be searched upon leaving, however all shall be treated with respect due regarding to rank and rights. Please exit via the main ramp. We shall inform the others and they can arrange time to collect what belongs to them. Post Captain Le Mariner. Out. “.


Aden was taken a back. Legal orders. From who? Foreign land or not the ship and its cargo were Inburian. Aden might not have been born of Inbur; he and the post captain were both of Favis. But the insignia of his uniform belonged to Inbur. The training that saved his life was provided by Inbur. The ship beneath his boots was Inburian.

He racked the machine gun to ensure a round was chambered. The already chambered round ejecting in a glittering arc of brass.

Then he reached for the PA. The line leading up to the gondola’s gun position.

“I don’t care who’s land we’re in. Get me someone from my army here for my ‘legal orders’. Unless it comes from them I shoot anyone who comes near this godforsaken ship.”

He let the mouthpiece clatter without fanfare. He owed his mates some kind of progress for their sacrifice. A net good for a cause they had died for. He would be damned if the ship was “transferred” and squandered under the banner of mutual enemies and vague assurances.

Who would think gold would cause such a divide? Aden didn’t much care for it but it was all he could grasp right now. The only tangible thing he had done in the last month.

It was all he had to show for the load he carried.
Commander Stader Volger
89th LSC CO


The guns were spiked. The system dragged for all intents and purposes. The door locked down to increase the repair time. Onyx-9 had sabotaged the frigate to the point the Baron was able to slink up and slam an Uppercut missile into an engine.

Volger took that as a sign to depart.

"Onyx-9, don't pull out. I repeat, do not pull. No reason to blow up a perfect prize ship! You're running low on ammo so wait on reinforcement before finishing clearing up the bridge. XO, add Reaver-1 to battlefield coms."


Volger gave a sigh. This chain of command was… eccentric to say the least. He might have a word with the pirate/ privateer/ lance captain after this action.

The bulkhead door began to glow as the crew gave up on the normal overrides. The tracing heat followed the seams; the troopers within the fire control center taking up their position. Aiming lasers flicking on as they tucked behind strut consoles and structural points.

”Onyx-9 copies. Holding.”

Perhaps a bit of bite in his voice. A hasty sabotage attempt turning into a full on boarding action.

‘What reinforcements anyways?”

He didn’t remember a Reaver-1 on the ship’s compliments or manifest.

Then the first part of slagged door fell inwards and his thoughts were packed away. Then it was back to the familiar strobe of gunfire in vacuum.

*****

Volger could say that he had nearly blasted the reinforcements nearly four times as he followed in their wake. The more numerous members of Reaver-1 crashing through the ship like a red and black clad wrecking ball of shotgun fire and hand grenades.

Volger, and his troopers, resupplied on the basic essentials; had taken the role of flank protection. Following in parallel corridors and passageways. Stopping flanks and counter attacks in their infancy as the Reavers took the main sections in attention grabbing affairs.

"Rats are doing a last stand on the bridge. That'd be the part where I bring up any survivor and slowly kill them in front of the camera to convince them resisting is a bad idea but the boss told me we don't do that anymore. So. How do you guys want to do this?" He casually asked.


Volger stepped over a half erected barricade; the pair of former defenders manning it missing anatomy that was too clean for the likes of gunfire. He held his tongue as he gazed at the bridge door.

Options arrayed before him.

Buzz bots… Too expensive and the operators are all on the Venture anyways.

Stompers… none had made the boarding. Too long to wait for more form the Venture.

Explosives… Too much for now. Need the bridge intact if it’s for a prize.

But they don’t have to know that.


Volger grinned beneath his helmet as he looked over the assembled firepower of Reaver and his two squads of Onyx.

“Pile up your hull charges on the door.” Volger counted eight between the two units. One was sufficient for blowing entrances into destroyer hull armor. Eight for an interior door, bridge or not, was overkill.

He found the intercom next to the door. The commander toggling the comms as the pair of groups assembled the massive amounts of demolitions.

“Attention pirate bridge crew. This is Commander Volger of the 89th Lancer Support Company. If you turn your cameras; you can see the eight hull charges I am putting on your doorstep. You can also see I have some more spirited irregulars with my troopers.”

He cut the line briefly to give a pause. The mirrored, gazes and neatly camouflaged gray armor of Onyx standing out from the pirate like armor of the Reavers.

“Your choices are simple. Open up and you will be retained under my care and treated as rival privateers by Imperial law. Or don’t open up and I detonate the charges. Then I let my compatriots in and do what they please with whoever survives. You have ten seconds.”

He stepped back. PDW cradled as he signaled them to start creeping back. The timer in his head counting down as the demolition trooper slowly flipped the cover of the detonator.
Commander Stader Volger
89th LSC CO


Volger could admit that despite his many years of working alongside AC’s; he had worked with a lot of mid-tier Lances. So the display of the Lance at the moment was rather impressive. Fending off enemy AC’s, supporting the LSC, harrying capital ships and strike craft.

All while outnumbered and on the back foot.

Volger made a mental note to update his plans as he turned the last corner to his destination. The Venture’s starboard shuttle bay held a few civilian cargo haulers but none of the Onyx-9 troopers scurrying through the bay paid the craft any attention. They were too busy assembling a set of frameworks towards the closed bay doors.

The thruster frames were in essence; giant thrusters attached to a a ceramic carbide skeleton. The skeleton having anchor points and straps for personnel ( alive or dead) and equipment. They were mainly used for post battle casualty collection and prisoner transport.

However, Volger and Onyx-9 were using them for a different purpose today. He eyed his display. The frigate passing closet. The dancing AC’s. The fire of the Indomitus.

“Stand by…” Volger took his place in the stack. He shouldn’t have been there. He knew a commander had no place being this close. But he couldn’t resist. Old habits-

Lt. Dvalin’s AC scored a kill. Following the kill with a flurry of missiles and beam rifle fire that had the nice effect of cluttering sensors.

Onyx-9 Execute!!!

The boosters the platoon in the debris field had assembled kicked off as the ones on the Venture followed a split second after. The troopers clinging to them for a scant, precious two seconds. Kicking off almost immediately after getting the initial kickstart of the frames boost.

Hurriedly getting free as the frigate’s point defense guns hurriedly engaged what it took for missiles. A fire team was too slow to kick off and disappeared in the flurry of explosive shells that perforated the space.

The gambit however worked for the most part. The cluttered battle space and the sudden speed of the frames allowed the troopers to close. Now free of the frames; the troopers used their own boosters to close the distance.

Volger felt a thrill as he passed a turret slashing away at a distant target. His armor invisible to the anti ship based sensors. He felt the impact of his boots hitting the hull; magnetic activating as vibrations of the frigate at work ran through the contact points.

Around him, his visor highlighted the troopers making it though the point defenses. Obviously, the pirates hadn’t sprung for the external anti boarding measures. Or removed the limiters for the turrets to allow them to depress to the hull.

’A shame’

Volger thought as his HUD helpfully marked his target on the hull. It was an awkward one hundred meter magnetic assisted walk to the crosshairs but it gave his troopers on the “X” to gather. Two squads had made it before the frigate had started evasive maneuvers; aware of their presence but not wanting to send crew out into the hull in the middle of a fight.

The AC’s of both sides danced overhead as Volger’s troopers worked. Affixing the hull charge to the indicated spot.

Volger toggled his comms but waited until the demo trooper triggered the charge. The shaped charge’s vibration matching the intensity of light and flame; but the vacuum took the roar. The rush of escaping atmosphere was accompanied by the flailing bodies of the compartment’s inhabitants; the same bluish-gray pattern uniform of the professional pirates from the Venture. They wore shipboard survival armor. So they would probably survive space if they could get somewhere with atmosphere before life support ran out.

Muzzle flashes from a trooper beside Volger polarized his visor. The frigate crew stilled amidst globules of red. From the breach more muzzle flashes flared as troopers piled in. Volger flowed in as he keyed his comms.

Onyx-9 Actual to Lance. We have taken Shrike-class frigate’s aft fire control. Stand by while we shut down rear offensive and defensive fires.

Volger could never understand why the Shrike class had two fire control centers nor why the aft center was so close to the hull. Sure it made overhaul and upgrades easier; but also more vulnerable.

Case in point as a the two squads of Onyx troopers, now in the ship’s artificial gravity, cleared the compartment. The previous crew, those that had been strapped in, were now slack in their seating. The occasional sidearm halfway pulled. The compartment’s weapons locker untouched in a corner by the blast door.

One trooper, the hacker, pulled a corpse off a console to affix an override device. The device gave a cheerful green light and soon the thumb of weapons fire subsided substantially. Throughout the room; weapon displays and targeting vectors turned an angry red of flashed warnings and indicators.

Onyx-9 Actual. Guns are spiked. We’re ready to pull.
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