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<blockquote data-quote="arwink" data-source="post: 2134108" data-attributes="member: 2292">Gators Under Gary, Part Two&quot;This has to be a joke,&quot; Ammie said.&nbsp; &quot;Some kind of hazing ritual they putt new recruits through.&quot;&quot;Huh?&quot;Nick is busy scanning his palm pilot, reviwing the notes he made from the file Patterson shoved accross the desk.&nbsp; They notes weren't complte, but the file wasn't allowed out of the room so he'd done his best.&nbsp; Ammie scowls at him, then turns her attention to the group ahead of them in the que.&nbsp; Australians, from the accent, and geeks to boot.&quot;They're sending us out after aligators in the sewers,&quot; She repeats.&nbsp; &quot;They can't be serious.&quot;&quot;Because?&quot; Nick says.&quot;Because things like that are just urban myths.&quot;&quot;You mean like demons that steal your head and cause snow-storms?&quot; Nick asked.&nbsp; Ammie glanced at him, daring him to even hint at the smirk that was showing in his voice.&quot;That's different,&quot; she said.&nbsp; &quot;Demons are mythical.&nbsp; Real mythical.&nbsp; Old.&quot;&quot;I'm sure that was a great comfort to the people the aligators killed,&quot; Nick says.&nbsp; He punched a button on the PDA, showing a list of names and dates.&nbsp; &quot;Four agents dissappeared last time Hoffman investigated this.&nbsp; Another team came back with nothing but bad headaches and a empty air.&nbsp; All the Institute has is six years of newspaper articles and some good hunches.&quot;&quot;Then why send us to find something if they've already looked?&quot;&quot;Because we're expendible.&quot;Ammie blinked a few times.&nbsp; The Australians finished at the requisitions window, leaving with an armful off briefcases and black packages.&nbsp; Some of them looked deceptively like the carry-case for a sniper rifle.&quot;Next.&quot; The clerk offered them a wide smile.&nbsp; It didn't suite his rounded features, and looked absurd with the fly-away whisps of hair on his balding pate.&quot;Hey Q, we're here for stuff,&quot; Ammie told him.&nbsp; The clerk grimmaced, his expression leaving no doubt about how often he heard the joke.&quot;Car keys,&quot; Nick said.&nbsp; He handed over a completed requisition form with Patterson's signature.&nbsp; &quot;We're meant to be taking a van out to Gary for a few days, doing some reconnasiance for a documentary about urban myth.&quot;The clerk nodded a few times and pushed some keys into Nick's hand.&quot;Already taken care of, sir.&nbsp; Fully loaded with AV, laptops with the necessary uplinks and suitable ID. Anything else?&quot;&quot;Guns,&quot; Nick said.The clerk punched numers into his computer.&quot;Records show that you've already been issued with the regulation pistols, Sir.&quot;Nick nodded.&quot;Yep, but we're going hunting for aligators.&nbsp; Or something that looks like a giant alligator.&nbsp; You'll forgive me if I'm not willing to trust my life to a SIG and dumb luck.&quot;The clerk narrows his eyes. Nick smiles a wide smile, full of as much menace as he can manage.&quot;Very well, sir, what would you like.&quot;&quot;Shotguns,&quot; Nick said.&nbsp; &quot;one semi-automatic if you've got them, but pump action if necessary.&nbsp; Give me a sawn-off for tight corners if you've got them, otherwise expect them to come back missing some bits.&nbsp; Two MP5's, with spare clips.&nbsp; And grenades - twelve smoke grenades for starters, plus as many frags as we can leverage.&quot;He turns and looks at Ammie.&quot;You want anything?&quot;Ammie and the clerk both blink in unison.&quot;I thought this was supposed to be a investigative mission,&quot; Ammie said.&nbsp; &quot;Not an armed attack.Nick shrugged.&quot;If there's something like that Harriken out there, what do you want to be carrying.&quot;Ammie thought about that for a second.&nbsp; Then she thought about her skills on the target range, the dismal line of empty targets that she's barely grazed with her pistol.&nbsp; Then she thinks about the demon gain, and the chilling cold that still seems to creep into her limbs at night.&quot;Double everything he said,&quot; she says.&nbsp; &quot;And give me the biggest #*$&amp;% of a sword you've got.&quot;The clerk nods.&nbsp; &quot;So, you two are the recruits from the rest stop,&quot; he says.&nbsp; &quot;There's rumors about that.&nbsp; I hear the two of you should...&quot;&quot;Don't say it,&quot; Ammie says.&nbsp; &quot;Don't even think it.&nbsp; Just go get us our stuff.&quot;&quot;</blockquote>

[QUOTE="arwink, post: 2134108, member: 2292"] [b]Gators Under Gary, Part Two[/b] "This has to be a joke," Ammie said. "Some kind of hazing ritual they putt new recruits through." "Huh?" Nick is busy scanning his palm pilot, reviwing the notes he made from the file Patterson shoved accross the desk. They notes weren't complte, but the file wasn't allowed out of the room so he'd done his best. Ammie scowls at him, then turns her attention to the group ahead of them in the que. Australians, from the accent, and geeks to boot. "They're sending us out after aligators in the sewers," She repeats. "They can't be serious." "Because?" Nick says. "Because things like that are just urban myths." "You mean like demons that steal your head and cause snow-storms?" Nick asked. Ammie glanced at him, daring him to even hint at the smirk that was showing in his voice. "That's different," she said. "Demons are mythical. Real mythical. Old." "I'm sure that was a great comfort to the people the aligators killed," Nick says. He punched a button on the PDA, showing a list of names and dates. "Four agents dissappeared last time Hoffman investigated this. Another team came back with nothing but bad headaches and a empty air. All the Institute has is six years of newspaper articles and some good hunches." "Then why send us to find something if they've already looked?" "Because we're expendible." Ammie blinked a few times. The Australians finished at the requisitions window, leaving with an armful off briefcases and black packages. Some of them looked deceptively like the carry-case for a sniper rifle. "Next." The clerk offered them a wide smile. It didn't suite his rounded features, and looked absurd with the fly-away whisps of hair on his balding pate. "Hey Q, we're here for stuff," Ammie told him. The clerk grimmaced, his expression leaving no doubt about how often he heard the joke. "Car keys," Nick said. He handed over a completed requisition form with Patterson's signature. "We're meant to be taking a van out to Gary for a few days, doing some reconnasiance for a documentary about urban myth." The clerk nodded a few times and pushed some keys into Nick's hand. "Already taken care of, sir. Fully loaded with AV, laptops with the necessary uplinks and suitable ID. Anything else?" "Guns," Nick said. The clerk punched numers into his computer. "Records show that you've already been issued with the regulation pistols, Sir." Nick nodded. "Yep, but we're going hunting for aligators. Or something that looks like a giant alligator. You'll forgive me if I'm not willing to trust my life to a SIG and dumb luck." The clerk narrows his eyes. Nick smiles a wide smile, full of as much menace as he can manage. "Very well, sir, what would you like." "Shotguns," Nick said. "one semi-automatic if you've got them, but pump action if necessary. Give me a sawn-off for tight corners if you've got them, otherwise expect them to come back missing some bits. Two MP5's, with spare clips. And grenades - twelve smoke grenades for starters, plus as many frags as we can leverage." He turns and looks at Ammie. "You want anything?" Ammie and the clerk both blink in unison. "I thought this was supposed to be a investigative mission," Ammie said. "Not an armed attack. Nick shrugged. "If there's something like that Harriken out there, what do you want to be carrying." Ammie thought about that for a second. Then she thought about her skills on the target range, the dismal line of empty targets that she's barely grazed with her pistol. Then she thinks about the demon gain, and the chilling cold that still seems to creep into her limbs at night. "Double everything he said," she says. "And give me the biggest #*$&% of a sword you've got." The clerk nods. "So, you two are the recruits from the rest stop," he says. "There's rumors about that. I hear the two of you should..." "Don't say it," Ammie says. "Don't even think it. Just go get us our stuff." " [/QUOTE]

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