ROACH RISING: Requisition
Posted: Mon Aug 18, 2008 7:03 pm
ROACH RISING: Requisition
It was night, and the scene was that of Portharbor City – Skyhaven. The cityscape was lit up like a Technicolor constellation, with spotlights illuminating the towering Art Deco skyscrapers as rotoplanes flew betwixt them and the advertisement zeppelins that loomed above.
The Valen Technologies building was on the outskirts of the city, on a hill with a great view of Portharbor, as it was strategically located to be inconspicuous. The polished glass and steel architecture, the surrounding electric fences, and the security patrols on Segways were not so inconspicuous, however.
Still, the facility was mostly hidden from prying eyes, being relatively isolated. A plus for those at ValTech who wished to go about their business uninterrupted. Likewise for those at the EVIL Corporation who wished to go about their business uninterrupted as well.
Number 13, albino arch-henchman of the Corporation, raised his visor and regarded his men with cold hard eyes. Arranged before him were some of the EVIL Corporation’s finest employees – a core cadre of his black-armored Elites, supported by an equal number of henchmen in gunmetal-grey hardhats. The Elites had reflective visors to conceal their identities, while the hardhats wore thick goggles and respirators.
“We move on my mark,” 13 said before turning to survey the excellent view of Portharbor offered by their vantage point. “Three minutes.”
The Elites performed a final weapons check. Most, if not all, of their old gear had not been sanctioned for the mission due to their employer’s specifications, and they had little time to familiarize themselves with their new kits - specialized equipment custom-tailored for the job at hand. It made the job a challenge, but the Elites were nothing if not professional, and so they relished in it. Nonetheless, the veterans amongst them were still wary of their new gear, and the ‘customized parameters’ of their latest job.
13 checked his chronometer and adjusted his own tactical harness, noting that everything was in place.
“Two minutes.”
The hardhats were slower in finishing their preparations. Like the Elites, they too carried specialized weaponry, but they were also bringing other equipment stowed in large portable containers, equipment designed to aid the impending operation. They would not see direct combat, but were relegated to no-less important supporting roles. The leading hardhat gave a thumbs up.
“One minute.”
The Elites and the hardhats began clipping cables on to their tactical harnesses, which doubled as climbing gear. The cables went into winches.
13 tugged at his line, making sure that the carabiner was securely in place. Then he turned away from the edge, and once more regarded his men.
“Mark.”
He slid on his visor and leapt.
The ValTech private security contractors patrolled the perimeter of the facility, well within the boundaries of their electrified fence and the coverage of their external security grid. Their defenses were well-organized and well-equipped, to prevent and dissuade corporate espionage and sabotage, and theft. The fences themselves were only superficial layer of this grid, with succeeding layers composed of multi-spectrum security cameras and motion-detectors linked to automated defenses – armed drones and sentry guns. There were also the highly-mobile security patrols, armed guards encircling the place with their personal transporters, Segways.
But this was all a ruse, linked to an alarm system that would, once tripped, immediately alert the proper authorities and promptly lockdown the facility, preventing any attempt at sabotage or espionage or theft, or any attempt at escape. It was an efficient and cost-effective solution.
Or so the corporate executives at Valen Technologies thought.
They wouldn’t even know what hit them.
The black-painted EVIL zeppelin loomed directly above the ValTech building. Its coloration belied its stealthy nature, as not only was it undetectable to conventional radars, but it was also invisible in the low-light conditions and inaudible due to sound-suppression. It was more than just stealthy, as its smooth and oblate form was interrupted by a blister on its aerial abdomen – a projector radiating an invisible cone of electronic interference, which called ValTech’s ruse. It silenced the facility’s alarm system, and played quiet havoc on its external security grid.
The corporates over at Valen Technologies had not anticipated such an audacious attempt at their assets.
Now, those in the inside were now blind, deaf, and mute.
And those on the outside were fair game.
The Elites and the hardhats rappelled down the side of the zeppelin, and as they made their descent, they targeted the patrolling security guards from above and neutralized them. It was clean, efficient, and bloodless.
The specialized weaponry the Elites and the hardhats had been armed with were non-lethal weaponry, as per the specifications of their current contract.
Tranquilizer darts, constrictor foam, shock gel, and gas canisters rained down on the unsuspecting guards. The darts stabbed through light head coverings and injected undeadly neurotoxin directly into skulls, while specialized grenades airbursted and covered faces and upper torsos in thick immovable (yet breathable) foam, or incapacitating liquid tasers. The gas canisters then comfortably anesthetized them of these inconveniences.
With a whirring-sound of cables and waist-winches, the EVIL employees touched down and immediately formed a ring, pointing weapons outwards towards any potential threat.
“Activate IFF,” Number 13 commanded as he pressed a transponder on his belt.
The others, Elites and hardhats alike, followed suit, their own devices beeping as they were activated. IFF, Identify Friend-or-Foe. Their employer had kindly provided them the codes in use by the ValTech employees for that day. The codes would make them non-targets for the automated defenses, like the target-seeking shotguns and miniaturized miniguns that were coming out of the ground all around them.
The shotguns and miniguns swiveled side-to-side in sync, and then promptly went back underground – disappearing without trace beneath hidden panels.
13 holstered his weapon.
“Set up.”
“Setting up,” the leading hardhat nodded as he turned to his men and relayed hand-signals. The hat-clad, goggles-wearing, respiratored henchmen immediately began assembling their equipment – taking tech-com gear from their containers and assembling them as quickly as possible. “Thirty seconds… done.”
“Good. Go.”
The hardhat tapped a couple of his peers on the shoulders, and they went over towards the entrance of the ValTech building. 13 and his escort of Elites were not far behind them.
“Gotta give them credit,” the hardhat said as he examined the doors. “They locked themselves down pretty fast.”
“Any problems?”
“Nope. It’s all in the schematics that’s been provided to us. We can run a limited bypass of their systems,” the hardhat looked at a team of henchmen who were gathered around a portable computer hooked up to a miniature satellite dish, and then he looked at his immediate partners who were taking out demolition charges. “And we can blow the doors open.”
“Do it.”
[Part 2 forthcoming or something.]
It was night, and the scene was that of Portharbor City – Skyhaven. The cityscape was lit up like a Technicolor constellation, with spotlights illuminating the towering Art Deco skyscrapers as rotoplanes flew betwixt them and the advertisement zeppelins that loomed above.
The Valen Technologies building was on the outskirts of the city, on a hill with a great view of Portharbor, as it was strategically located to be inconspicuous. The polished glass and steel architecture, the surrounding electric fences, and the security patrols on Segways were not so inconspicuous, however.
Still, the facility was mostly hidden from prying eyes, being relatively isolated. A plus for those at ValTech who wished to go about their business uninterrupted. Likewise for those at the EVIL Corporation who wished to go about their business uninterrupted as well.
Number 13, albino arch-henchman of the Corporation, raised his visor and regarded his men with cold hard eyes. Arranged before him were some of the EVIL Corporation’s finest employees – a core cadre of his black-armored Elites, supported by an equal number of henchmen in gunmetal-grey hardhats. The Elites had reflective visors to conceal their identities, while the hardhats wore thick goggles and respirators.
“We move on my mark,” 13 said before turning to survey the excellent view of Portharbor offered by their vantage point. “Three minutes.”
The Elites performed a final weapons check. Most, if not all, of their old gear had not been sanctioned for the mission due to their employer’s specifications, and they had little time to familiarize themselves with their new kits - specialized equipment custom-tailored for the job at hand. It made the job a challenge, but the Elites were nothing if not professional, and so they relished in it. Nonetheless, the veterans amongst them were still wary of their new gear, and the ‘customized parameters’ of their latest job.
13 checked his chronometer and adjusted his own tactical harness, noting that everything was in place.
“Two minutes.”
The hardhats were slower in finishing their preparations. Like the Elites, they too carried specialized weaponry, but they were also bringing other equipment stowed in large portable containers, equipment designed to aid the impending operation. They would not see direct combat, but were relegated to no-less important supporting roles. The leading hardhat gave a thumbs up.
“One minute.”
The Elites and the hardhats began clipping cables on to their tactical harnesses, which doubled as climbing gear. The cables went into winches.
13 tugged at his line, making sure that the carabiner was securely in place. Then he turned away from the edge, and once more regarded his men.
“Mark.”
He slid on his visor and leapt.
The ValTech private security contractors patrolled the perimeter of the facility, well within the boundaries of their electrified fence and the coverage of their external security grid. Their defenses were well-organized and well-equipped, to prevent and dissuade corporate espionage and sabotage, and theft. The fences themselves were only superficial layer of this grid, with succeeding layers composed of multi-spectrum security cameras and motion-detectors linked to automated defenses – armed drones and sentry guns. There were also the highly-mobile security patrols, armed guards encircling the place with their personal transporters, Segways.
But this was all a ruse, linked to an alarm system that would, once tripped, immediately alert the proper authorities and promptly lockdown the facility, preventing any attempt at sabotage or espionage or theft, or any attempt at escape. It was an efficient and cost-effective solution.
Or so the corporate executives at Valen Technologies thought.
They wouldn’t even know what hit them.
The black-painted EVIL zeppelin loomed directly above the ValTech building. Its coloration belied its stealthy nature, as not only was it undetectable to conventional radars, but it was also invisible in the low-light conditions and inaudible due to sound-suppression. It was more than just stealthy, as its smooth and oblate form was interrupted by a blister on its aerial abdomen – a projector radiating an invisible cone of electronic interference, which called ValTech’s ruse. It silenced the facility’s alarm system, and played quiet havoc on its external security grid.
The corporates over at Valen Technologies had not anticipated such an audacious attempt at their assets.
Now, those in the inside were now blind, deaf, and mute.
And those on the outside were fair game.
The Elites and the hardhats rappelled down the side of the zeppelin, and as they made their descent, they targeted the patrolling security guards from above and neutralized them. It was clean, efficient, and bloodless.
The specialized weaponry the Elites and the hardhats had been armed with were non-lethal weaponry, as per the specifications of their current contract.
Tranquilizer darts, constrictor foam, shock gel, and gas canisters rained down on the unsuspecting guards. The darts stabbed through light head coverings and injected undeadly neurotoxin directly into skulls, while specialized grenades airbursted and covered faces and upper torsos in thick immovable (yet breathable) foam, or incapacitating liquid tasers. The gas canisters then comfortably anesthetized them of these inconveniences.
With a whirring-sound of cables and waist-winches, the EVIL employees touched down and immediately formed a ring, pointing weapons outwards towards any potential threat.
“Activate IFF,” Number 13 commanded as he pressed a transponder on his belt.
The others, Elites and hardhats alike, followed suit, their own devices beeping as they were activated. IFF, Identify Friend-or-Foe. Their employer had kindly provided them the codes in use by the ValTech employees for that day. The codes would make them non-targets for the automated defenses, like the target-seeking shotguns and miniaturized miniguns that were coming out of the ground all around them.
The shotguns and miniguns swiveled side-to-side in sync, and then promptly went back underground – disappearing without trace beneath hidden panels.
13 holstered his weapon.
“Set up.”
“Setting up,” the leading hardhat nodded as he turned to his men and relayed hand-signals. The hat-clad, goggles-wearing, respiratored henchmen immediately began assembling their equipment – taking tech-com gear from their containers and assembling them as quickly as possible. “Thirty seconds… done.”
“Good. Go.”
The hardhat tapped a couple of his peers on the shoulders, and they went over towards the entrance of the ValTech building. 13 and his escort of Elites were not far behind them.
“Gotta give them credit,” the hardhat said as he examined the doors. “They locked themselves down pretty fast.”
“Any problems?”
“Nope. It’s all in the schematics that’s been provided to us. We can run a limited bypass of their systems,” the hardhat looked at a team of henchmen who were gathered around a portable computer hooked up to a miniature satellite dish, and then he looked at his immediate partners who were taking out demolition charges. “And we can blow the doors open.”
“Do it.”
[Part 2 forthcoming or something.]