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Curtains #3 - Problems of One's Own
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<blockquote data-quote="Rybaer" data-source="post: 2451084" data-attributes="member: 118"><p>Somewhere over western New York</p><p>June 16</p><p>06:58</p><p></p><p></p><p>“Sorry to interrupt your day like this, sir, but command was pretty adamant about bringing you in to help with the situation.”</p><p></p><p>Thomas was having a little bit of difficulty hearing the officer’s yelling over the chopper’s blades, in spite of the noise canceling headphones he’d been given. The Army helicopter had picked him up near his apartment about an hour earlier and had just finished a brief stop to pick up intelligence officer Hadley.</p><p></p><p>Thomas had known that the Army would probably come knocking some day. He was even more certain once he’d agreed to join up with the Homeland Defense Department’s metahuman forces initiative. It only went to figure that they’d come calling early in the morning after he’d just finished a closing shift at the bar. The co-pilot had offered him stale coffee from a thermos, but it was doing little to clear his drowsiness.</p><p></p><p>“So what’s the story?” Thomas yelled back through his microphone.</p><p></p><p>“Joint operation was going down last night to pick up a domestic terrorist cell. Something happened as it was about to happen and the terrorists were tipped off and fled. What our intel didn’t know ahead of time was that these guys had access to an abandoned coal mine where they’ve apparently been stashing arms and setting traps for some time. We found that out the hard way – three of our men killed and four others injured.”</p><p></p><p>“And someone wants me to go fetch the bad guys back out of there, huh?” Thomas said, filling in the inevitable blanks.</p><p></p><p>“You got it, sir,” Hadley said. “Intel thinks one of these guys has time sensitive information. Otherwise, we’d handle this slowly and wait them out. They want these guys taken out quickly and, ideally, alive.”</p><p></p><p>Thirty minutes later, the chopper landed in a clearing filled with run-down buildings that probably dated back a hundred years or more. They were somewhere in western New York or eastern Pennsylvania – he couldn’t quite be sure. It was hilly and heavily wooded.</p><p></p><p>“O’Riley, this is special agent Wedlake, FBI,” Hadley said, introducing Thomas to a serious looking man with close-cropped silver hair. As Thomas shook his offered hand, he got the distinct impression that this man would have made an excellent drill sergeant. “Agent Wedlake, this is Thomas O’Riley, a.k.a. Granite.”</p><p></p><p>“Good to meet you,” Wedlake said with little conviction. “I know you can stand up to small arms fire. How well do you stand up against explosives?”</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Rybaer, post: 2451084, member: 118"] Somewhere over western New York June 16 06:58 “Sorry to interrupt your day like this, sir, but command was pretty adamant about bringing you in to help with the situation.” Thomas was having a little bit of difficulty hearing the officer’s yelling over the chopper’s blades, in spite of the noise canceling headphones he’d been given. The Army helicopter had picked him up near his apartment about an hour earlier and had just finished a brief stop to pick up intelligence officer Hadley. Thomas had known that the Army would probably come knocking some day. He was even more certain once he’d agreed to join up with the Homeland Defense Department’s metahuman forces initiative. It only went to figure that they’d come calling early in the morning after he’d just finished a closing shift at the bar. The co-pilot had offered him stale coffee from a thermos, but it was doing little to clear his drowsiness. “So what’s the story?” Thomas yelled back through his microphone. “Joint operation was going down last night to pick up a domestic terrorist cell. Something happened as it was about to happen and the terrorists were tipped off and fled. What our intel didn’t know ahead of time was that these guys had access to an abandoned coal mine where they’ve apparently been stashing arms and setting traps for some time. We found that out the hard way – three of our men killed and four others injured.” “And someone wants me to go fetch the bad guys back out of there, huh?” Thomas said, filling in the inevitable blanks. “You got it, sir,” Hadley said. “Intel thinks one of these guys has time sensitive information. Otherwise, we’d handle this slowly and wait them out. They want these guys taken out quickly and, ideally, alive.” Thirty minutes later, the chopper landed in a clearing filled with run-down buildings that probably dated back a hundred years or more. They were somewhere in western New York or eastern Pennsylvania – he couldn’t quite be sure. It was hilly and heavily wooded. “O’Riley, this is special agent Wedlake, FBI,” Hadley said, introducing Thomas to a serious looking man with close-cropped silver hair. As Thomas shook his offered hand, he got the distinct impression that this man would have made an excellent drill sergeant. “Agent Wedlake, this is Thomas O’Riley, a.k.a. Granite.” “Good to meet you,” Wedlake said with little conviction. “I know you can stand up to small arms fire. How well do you stand up against explosives?” [/QUOTE]
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