Vesta corporation, The Company, Sophia, Illiyun
0700 (Coordinated Illiyun-Sophian Time)
May 2nd, 2494 (Universal Civil Calendar)
MSG Theodore Kunkle Ragnvald Wölfner arrives at the elaborate front desk of the lavish headquarter’s of The Company. He is dressed head to toe in full dress uniform. Highly shined and polished. Some stare, most at the “Soldier”, some at the ghastly amount of medals and awards, a few at his face; specifically, the prominent tattoo, which marks him as a soldier and warrior. He is snap to and methodical with his walking, as though he is marching to his own cadence.
The clerk at the desk doesn’t look up, just realizes someone is standing there; ""Welcome to Vesta Corporation, how may I direct yo…" She stops talking as she faces the new arrival. She is a little dumbfounded, seeing the imposing soldier and hero in front of her.
In a low gruff voice he responds, not waiting for her to compose herself. ""Yes, I am MSG Wölfner, I have an appointment with Director Mahanya."
She slowly lowers her gaze to the display, she is thinking of his name, but the neural link display is showing an error. No response or reply for MSG Wölfner. She has an odd, scared look like she made some mistake and this man? will rip her apart if she speaks to him the wrong way (she’s heard stories of these decommissioned soldiers going bat-shit crazy at the drop of a pin). “I-I-I’m sorry, b-b-but I d-d-don’t see your n-n-name in the registry.” She is starting to visibly shake.
“That’s OK Miss, I am just a little early and this may be just a big mistake on my part.” He leans over and whispers “Don’t worry, I am not here to kill you…yet.” He smiles and turns to leave.
From the other side of the lobby a man bellows “…Where the hell do you think your going MSG Wölfner!” He turns and looks in the direction of the voice. “sorry, my assistant JUST informed me of the mistake, you weren’t added to the authorized list yet, I don’t know how that happened, and stop intimidating the staff, she isn’t one of your recruits fresh from boot, and you should save it for the club scene, you will get better results.”
" I know what happened, Major, your epic lack of discipline got in the way, and you failed to follow through on the minute details, that shit will ALWAYS get you killed."
“WOW, serious as ever I see, well come on I will get you through and started on the paperwork. You can call me Francis, B.T.dub. We BOTH are out now. Gracy, I will take it from here, so sorry about this, why don’t you go take a break, looks like you need it.”
“T-T-Thank you D-D-Director Mahanya.”
The two men are walking through the vast hallways of The Company reminiscing and chit-chatting (mostly Mahanya). Even though Director Mahanya is leading them, he seems to get into lock step with MSG Wölfner, never the other way around. They go through various checkpoints and security posts. Mahanya keys all the required steps to get Wölfner through them all. Till they arrive at a blank wall with no visible markings or buttons. Mahanya looks around to ensure they are alone, then places his hand on the wall. A section hisses and opens inward, sliding out of the way. The two enter and the “door” closes rapidly behind them leaving no mark or indication of its presence.
“So here we are command central of internal security, I have a small office here, you will get one also. We also maintain a more public one on the upper floors.”
“Looks reasonable enough.”
“Damn, Wölfner, you aren’t impressed with much, this room is the most stated of the art, prototype facility ever constructed, NO ONE else has anything even close to it.”
“Sure, I guess it will suffice.”
Suddenly, a few alarms are ringing and beeping. Mahanya’s face turns very serious and walks over to a technician station “REPORT!”
“Director, there is an issue with “Rogue Team” at the hangar. It seems some Hellions have arrived before the team and they are about to engage."
“It looks like seven, but you know them, they have reinforcements somewhere.”
“Damn, where is the closest RRF (Rapid Response Force)!”
“Sir, there is one here, but they just got back and are in dire need of a rest cycle, their last took a heavy toll, RRF 3 is on the other side of the planet and RRF 1 is off world.”
“HELL!” He pauses, then slowly turns looking directly at Wölfner for a mere nano-second. "You, you are better than any “team” I have ever seen to date. You ready? Time to earn that FAT paycheck I garnered for ya."
“Sure, thing Major. Let’s go”
“OK, Tech Joynes, send all the specs to the TACC display upstairs!”
“Sure thing, ‘Major’?”
“If you want to remain working here, I wouldn’t say that again or spread it around. Wölfner over here, express tube to the TACC room.”
The two men enter a small tight tube elevator and within moments are shot from the bowels of the building to the 2nd top tier in moments, arriving at the TACC room. They exit the tube and RRF 2 are unloading their craft. Mahanya is asking what Wölfner needs, Wölfner says he will have to assess the situation to know. Both are standing at the TACC display, Mahanya is scrolling through the data quickly, as Wölfner is memorizing the data with his bio-enhanced Eidetic memory, telling him to scroll faster. Within moments he is done absorbing every once of data available. Wölfner runs over to the team unloading gear scanning every box and item being carried and on the tarmac. One starts to question him when Mahanya orders a stand down, telling them to comply with any and all orders from their NEW Assistant Director of special operations and training. They all stand clear. Wölfner strips quickly, grabbing and demanding tactical gear and clothing from several members of the team, dressing and strapping the gear in a mere blink of an eye. He opens a long crate, pulls out a massive sniper rifle, that looks more like a cannon. A TX-245E1 sniper variant Charon Gauss Rifle He asks the team if they have the MARK III scope instead of the MARK VI, they snap to and produce it quickly. He expertly changes the scopes and runs the weapon through a full function check in mere seconds. He is now geared up just like the team, with one exception, He still has his military beret on, instead of a tactical helmet. He bellows for the team to clear the craft quickly, when they don’t do it fast enough he starts chucking boxes and crates off himself. With the craft clear, he yells at the pilots over the comms headset to get this bird in the sky, times a wasting. the last thing Mahanya sees is Wölfner standing in the cargo door of the craft holding the weapon up by the barrel, with its butt on the deck. It stands as tall as him.
The drone of the hover vortex engines of the craft are all that is producing noise. Though the crew is not officially on radio silence, no one has the balls to say a word, for fear they might just get thrown from the craft by the rhino of a man crouched at the open door. All try to avoid staring at MSG Wölfner; all except one.
She’s a short but built soldier standing on the other side of the craft. She is unrecongizably different from the rest of the male soldiers save for one loose lock of golden hair that has come unraveled from the tight bun underneath her combat helmet, and hanging in front of her left ear. Her hands hold tightly to her chest a SR-616, a double-barrel recoilless dual-fed combat shotblast railgun. Just like its user it is Compact with Quite a Punch. She breaks the white noise of the engines.
“Excuse me, sir!?” Its hard to tell if she is making a request or asking a question. In fact, she’s not sure herself.
The Master Sergeant continues to stare out of the cargo door.
“Excuse me, SIR!” Definitely a request this time.
Somehow the MSG’s destainful gravely grumble penatrates the boistery of the engines, sending a chill down the blonde’s neck. Wölfner turns his head toward her inquisition out of respect for her uniform.
“Yes…” He pauses to look her up and down, sizing her up, taking note of her rank and records. “…Specialist Van Hoek? What is it?” He finishes with a freezing stare.
“Uh…what’s the mission? Director, SIR!”
“Let me ask you this, Specialist Van Hoek. How many times have you been in combat before?”
The question sort of catches the Specialist off guard.
“I have been trained in counter ballistics warfare, close quarters combat, hostage-terrorist counter warfare, and anti-sniper techniques—all at the top of my class, SIR!” She belts out over the sound of the engines.
“So what you’re telling me, Specialist Van Hoek, you haven’t seen any combat?” She can hear the snickers of the men aboard the craft. The Master Sergeant continues, “Then it doesn’t really matter what the mission is, Van Hoek. This ain’t no training. It ain’t no drill. The only mission ever…”
He pauses to look at everyone giving him attention.
“…Is to come back alive. Outlast these son of b!tch€$ and you can call yourself combat trained!”
Specialist Van Hoek wants to say something like, “You can count on me” or “I won’t let you down, SIR!” Instead, she just looks proudly at her commander knowing that she is just about to be given the opportunity to prove it rather than say it.
Unofficial Radio Silence, the drone of the engines again dominate the void.
From the pilot’s comlink, “Director, target is in sight. Awaiting orders.”