"Oh of course, I had forgotten that you are apart of the lower teams. No matter, I am getting my information from The Boss himself. Untill then do not try to sign your own death warrarnt." He ended the call and dialed.
"Oh of course, I had forgotten that you are apart of the lower teams. No matter, I am getting my information from The Boss himself. Untill then do not try to sign your own death warrarnt." He ended the call and dialed.
The Phone rang a few seconds 'Hello, welcome to SCP Foundation Corporate... please code in after the beep' BEEP
"Seems I dialed the wrong number."
He tried again.
"Hello, sir....I am afraid this is not a social visit....Yes, that was me. It was not easy, but it was accomplished....Before we go to that I wish to talk to you about this assignment....Well it is about a task force....Being sent to Mexico, sir....I am afraid I do not know all the details. You must ask the Terrance, he is the one who told me....What?! Please tell me you jest, sir?...Understood....I thank you."
He ended the call and called Terrance back.
"Seems no one informed him of this taskforce. Worst of all, he may think there is someone allied with the cartel in our mists. I trust his words more than Ser Bell's, that is for sure."
"Well apparently nobody know's my talent, because I'm being sent to the Field." Terrance said to him "I just boarded the C-130 to Nicaragua."
"Blast it all! can you not listen to some wise advice!"
"I can't leave, you call me as we got on the airfield, called me seconds to late... I'm being sent to Panamá Viejo, Panama to protect some Alien Stuctures... if you wanna help boss... come find us."
He ended the call.
"Has the world gone bleeding mad!"
He was under extreme scrutiny. Cameras were in every room, along with an armed guard. They'd done an excellent job of denying him anything interesting to tell the rest of the clan, but he was just happy to be alive. Doe was currently locked in what appeared to be a vacant office, though a guard was there to keep him company. The damned people acted like robots, never flinching and hardly moving. In a few minutes, he was escorted back to the same small conference room as before.
"Look, we believe we've pinned down the contractor that CIA has hired. It's the 'SCP Foundation', says on their website that they collect money and send people out to developing countries, though their people have a history of getting violent towards the oppressors in many countries, and condoning violent action. Not necessarily a bad thing given who they're lashing out at, but we've feared in the past that they've branched out into paramilitary work, and for that they may be a little less picky about who they fight for. If they have, they're keeping it quiet- probably go by a different name for that sort of thing. Might be why CIA chose them over the more common choices, but they aren't supposed to leave civilians responsible for anything this substantial. We're going to need your help..."
OOC:What SCP foundation? its the SPO
OOC: "If they have, they're keeping it quiet- probably go by a different name for that sort of thing." SCP Foundation is just a cover.Originally Posted by princesspeach94
OOC:ahhh. keep their reputation and that kind of thing.
Terrance and other Foundation Paratroopers get ready for the jump, it's not until a few days but this could get crazy... nothing was off the table.
Doe was almost to the point of panic. "Look, I-I'll analyze all the pictures you can show me, I'll tell you what you need to know, but I would never-"
"Listen up, boy. The way I see it you don't have any choice..."
Eric was silent, lost in his own thoughts when he heard something. a murmur of voices, too quiet for the human ear. outside his hotel room.
When the troopers landed in Panama they quickly secured to Alien Site "Move, MOVE!" as Terrance got his sniper rifle ready
The senior agent was unmoved. "We need someone on the inside to feed us information. Whatever is going on, the contractor is going to be the most reliable source. What we need to know is where we can expect trouble next and how to stop it. CIA wouldn't have hired them if they weren't skilled at what they do, but lord knows they don't have the resources to deal with this sort of thing. You merely have to prove their existence to us- emblems, names, what have you- and tell us what we need to know about the crisis. Are you prepared to do that?"
"I get the feeling that 'no' isn't an option..."
"No, it's not."
He could tell that is was two males talking to each other in a language he could not understand. He could also hear the loading of guns.
"Well this is not going to end well."
OOC: Where are you and how did you get there?
OOC: Eric is in his hotel room. I have no idea where Terrance is.
OOC: I went back and looked. He's in "Panamá Viejo, Panama to protect some Alien Stuctures..."
He travels very quickly.
OOC: as to how Eric got there. He saw some FBI, decided to avoid conflict, and Terrance got him a room at a two star hotel where he crashed, so to speak. Now some people, speaking a forgein language and have guns, are at his front door.
OOCirect Military flights are surprisingly fast, if what I've heard about 'Black Flights' or the Black Operations flight patterns, they can get anywhere in the world within 3-4 days ignoring the most basic safety precaution.
OOC: now shall we continue?
Terrance looked around and picked up his phone, dialing boss "Say... where are you?"
There was no answer.
"'John Doe'... what the ☺☺☺☺ were you thinking picking a name like that, kid?" Silence. "Well, that ain't it anymore. From here on you will be Daryl O'Connor. You have no wife or family, no friends, your parents are dead, and you are willing to enlist as a hired gun. Remember that. We're paying for a commercial flight to Chicago, where you'll casually apply for a job with the SCP Foundation. You have an hour," the agent said dismissively.
When the cartel members kicked the door down, the room was empty. nothing was moving except the curtains of the open window.
Terrance looked around the building, throwing a flare into the structure "Clear!"
Daryl O'Connor, formerly "John Doe", had just arrived in Chicago. The FBI had supplied him with high-quality fake military credentials and had invented a number of fictional war stories for him to casually recall. They tried their best to make him seem as genuine as possible. The next night, he would head downtown and speak to the right people.
Their deaths were quick. Two bodies now littered Eric's hotel room.
"Next time, sneak up on someone that does not know you are coming. I have dealt with smarter hit men from the maifa."
He cleaned off his knives with one of the hotel's cheap towels.
"Better call the cleaners to get rid of these idiots. It would hardly be fair to let the hotel cleaning crew see this." He dialed on his phone and told about the situation.
"Now I am leaving before more show up. I would prefer to head back to Blue Bell Bay. But I seems to have no choice."
He the called the train station to arrange for some tickets.
"The SPO head quarters in Chicago should be a place to law low for a while."
Terrance and his unit found the alien factory, they broke up into team of 3 and aimed their M4's at anything that might attack them. "Slow and steady boys, don't worry about a thing and fire at anything that tired to jump at you." his radio said, then chirped as command cut the talk button.
"O'Connor" had gone to the SCP headquarters to interview for a job. He had been sure to use all the phrases and keywords that would imply that he knew about the paramilitary element of the foundation, and that he wanted in. The interviewer didn't seem disinterested, either. He returned to his hotel room later, and communicated to his contact that it had gone well. Fairly soon he should be inside this mysterious organization...
The train trip went without a hitch, thankfully.It was the only transportation he trusted other than his own feet. He had made arrangements to look at the records to see about finding this mole and cross referencing the monsters he killed in New York.
Most of the task force was wasted by an unknown enemy force, Terrance the former Air Force Rescue ops officer was fighting for his life, brute strength creatures versus American Technology
It had been a while, but Doe was finally inside the SPO. He had been placed in a tech position rather than being a field operative, which he didn't entirely mind. He was sitting at his desk, headset on. Being his first day, he was busy buying plane tickets and finding hotel rooms for nameless agents across the U.S., all of this while under the scrutiny of a senior agent. He would try to get some pictures of the place later, but that was suicide with the others all breathing down his neck.
A troubling thought that had occured to him was that he may run into the man he had called "Uncle Sergey", assuming he was part of this particular group. Not quite mercenaries, Doe had thought. More like private investigators with big guns. Well, it certainly existed. What was once a blurred abbreviation on an illegally-acquired document was now his employer, and like it or not he would be here a while...
Eric headed to the Records room as soon as he settled in to his hotel, the owner whom he knew quite well. While goig through the hallway, he noticed a familiar face, an all too familiar face.
"...I know the SPO are not afraid to hire those who are outlaws, I am a prime example, but something is very wrong about this. Perhaps he is the traitor I am sniffing out."
The Aliens took heavy casualties and so did the SPO front team "I'm hurt pretty bad..." one said as Terrance pulled him topside.
OOC:I have left a message for you Rosie on the OOC thread. It is best if you read it.
After "O'Connor" finished making a phone call, the senior agent in the room turned to speak to him.
"Kid, you're new here, and we've had some trouble with new people before. Let this be a friendly reminder that we have a zero tolerance policy for spies. You're doing well, but you never know who might turn and stab us in the back. Head to the break room and grab yourself something to eat."
And Doe did so, slightly troubled by the man's warning. Just don't think of yourself as a spy, and you'll be fine...
"Well. Well. If it isn't Ser Journalist."
Eric said as he entered the room.
"I knew my eyes were not deceiving me. Now who let you in?"
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