Reply to thread

Message

<blockquote data-quote="jonrog1" data-source="post: 584749" data-attributes="member: 189">Gone Missing: PROLOGUE&quot;One year later ...&quot;Samuel shifted nervously in his chair.&nbsp; Hoffman Institute Field Agent Director Richardson was legendary for precision and crankiness.&nbsp; Not in that order.Richardson stared at him.&nbsp; &quot;You're the best they can send for an assignment coordinator?&nbsp; Ahh, well.&quot;&nbsp; He tossed files onto his desk.&nbsp; &quot;Not like you can screw up too badly, coordinating these teams in the field.&nbsp; They're all finely oiled machines.&quot;They both stared at a file with a green strip across the top.&nbsp; Green meant &quot;All Access/All Levels of FX-Incidence Cleared.&quot;&nbsp; Only one field team at a time had that sticker.&nbsp;&nbsp; Richardson nodded.&nbsp; &quot;Yes, well, except for them.&nbsp; They're like a well-oiled car crash.&nbsp; But somehow, they keep walking back through that door.&quot;Samuel opened the file.&nbsp; This group was almost legendary in the Hoffman Institute for their cataclysmic investigations.&nbsp; As he laid each&nbsp; ID photo out on the table, Richardson ran down the Agent's status.&quot;Denis there's the team leader.&nbsp; He's new lad on, but after that debacle in Arizona, he was the one who thought to&nbsp;&nbsp; grab the Russian's notes, and the one who remembered to cram the Russian on the bus in the middle of the firefight.&nbsp; Got a cool head and an eye for tech, terrestrial or otherwise.&quot; &quot;Stephen's the forensic scientist/ evidence tech.&nbsp; He was their medic, but he kept almost killing people, so he switched to patients he can't hurt any worse. Good in an interview.&nbsp; He can look at a month-old corpse fresh out of the river and tell you how it died.&nbsp; Not a bad driver when he has to be, either.&quot;&quot;Ross there went through our military training rotation.&nbsp;&nbsp; He's now familiar with all standard law enforcement and military firearms and armor.&nbsp; He's made himself responsible for keeping the rest of them alive when the weirdness hits.&nbsp; We keep docking his pay, but he insists on carrying a cut-down 10-guage under his coat.&quot;&nbsp; Samuel stared at pictures of a burned-out neighborhood of apartment buildings.&nbsp; &quot;Ah, that.&nbsp; They went chasing some extradimensional nonsene in Paris, got pinned down by militia cultists.&nbsp; Ross solved the problem by severing multiple gas lines and turning the entire neighborhood into one big fuel-air explosive.&nbsp; Not subtle, but he takes his job seriously.&quot;Samuel stared at the next picture.&nbsp; &quot;I thought partial blindness would disqualify an Agent from fieldwork.&quot;&quot;The eyepatch?&quot;&nbsp; Richardson shrugged.&nbsp; &quot;Something magic and undead in Chicago clawed Andy's eye out.&nbsp; Big damn hole there.&nbsp; Helluva thing.&quot;&nbsp; Richardson hesitated.&nbsp; &quot;More of a helluva thing is he can still see out of it.&quot;&quot;I'm ... not following ...&quot;&quot;He can see out of the socket.&nbsp; Cover his remaining eye, he can see through the eyepatch.&nbsp; 20/20.&nbsp; Better vision than mine. &quot;&quot;But ... there's no eye there ...&quot;&quot;Son, exactly who do you think you work for?&quot; Samuel gulped, moved on.&nbsp; The last photo showed a young woman with a white streak cutting through dark, shoulder-length hair.&nbsp; Richardson chuckled.&nbsp; &quot;Ahh,&nbsp; her.&quot;&quot;She can't be as crazy as they say.&quot;&quot;Well, she was a handful enough, and that was before Seattle.&nbsp; Team went up against some psi-freak who'd cobbled together an empathic feedback coil.&nbsp; She got caught in a psi-wave.&nbsp; A loop.&quot;&nbsp; Richardson paused.&nbsp; &quot;Traps you in your worse nightmare for six months of subjective time.&nbsp; Six months.&nbsp; In that microsecond she lived half a year in a waist-high pool of corpse soup fighting off flesh-eating toddlers trying to rip her throat out.&quot;Samuel looked at the long, long, looonnnng list of Jo's prescribed medications.&nbsp; &quot;She must be completely, dangerously unhinged!&quot;&quot;She just got out of the clinic a week ago.&quot;&nbsp; Samuel noticed Richardson didn;t answer the question directly ...&nbsp; &quot;They say she's right as rain as long as she takes all her pills and doesn't drink too much.&quot;&nbsp;&nbsp; Richardson&nbsp; sighed.&nbsp;&nbsp; &quot;Only problem is, she doesn't take her pills and she drinks too much.&quot;&nbsp;&nbsp; The Director leaned forward.&nbsp; &quot;Okay, rookie.&nbsp; There's your team.&quot;&nbsp; He pointed to more files.&nbsp; &quot;There's today's caseload.&nbsp; &nbsp; Make the call.&nbsp; Who you sending where?&quot;Samuel looked at the breakdown of his crisis team (mentally noting &quot;breakdown's the right word ...&quot;).&nbsp; &quot;Something easy, change of pace after this many tough investigations.&quot;&nbsp; He slid one folder across the desk.&nbsp; &quot;This one.&nbsp; They don't even need cover ID's.&quot;Richardson glanced at the folder title, nodded.&nbsp; &quot;Not a bad call.&quot;&nbsp; He hit his intercom.&nbsp; &quot;Lucy, get First Team in here.&nbsp; They're going to Oregon ...&quot;</blockquote>

[QUOTE="jonrog1, post: 584749, member: 189"] [b]Gone Missing: PROLOGUE "One year later ..."[/b] Samuel shifted nervously in his chair. Hoffman Institute Field Agent Director Richardson was legendary for precision and crankiness. Not in that order. Richardson stared at him. "You're the best they can send for an assignment coordinator? Ahh, well." He tossed files onto his desk. "Not like you can screw up too badly, coordinating these teams in the field. They're all finely oiled machines." They both stared at a file with a green strip across the top. Green meant "All Access/All Levels of FX-Incidence Cleared." Only one field team at a time had that sticker. Richardson nodded. "Yes, well, except for them. They're like a well-oiled car crash. But somehow, they keep walking back through that door." Samuel opened the file. This group was almost legendary in the Hoffman Institute for their cataclysmic investigations. As he laid each ID photo out on the table, Richardson ran down the Agent's status. "Denis there's the team leader. He's new lad on, but after that debacle in Arizona, he was the one who thought to grab the Russian's notes, and the one who remembered to cram the Russian on the bus in the middle of the firefight. Got a cool head and an eye for tech, terrestrial or otherwise." "Stephen's the forensic scientist/ evidence tech. He [u]was[/u] their medic, but he kept almost killing people, so he switched to patients he can't hurt any worse. Good in an interview. He can look at a month-old corpse fresh out of the river and tell you how it died. Not a bad driver when he has to be, either." "Ross there went through our military training rotation. He's now familiar with all standard law enforcement and military firearms and armor. He's made himself responsible for keeping the rest of them alive when the weirdness hits. We keep docking his pay, but he insists on carrying a cut-down 10-guage under his coat." Samuel stared at pictures of a burned-out neighborhood of apartment buildings. "Ah, that. They went chasing some extradimensional nonsene in Paris, got pinned down by militia cultists. Ross solved the problem by severing multiple gas lines and turning the [b]entire neighborhood[/b] into one big fuel-air explosive. Not subtle, but he takes his job seriously." Samuel stared at the next picture. "I thought partial blindness would disqualify an Agent from fieldwork." "The eyepatch?" Richardson shrugged. "Something magic and undead in Chicago clawed Andy's eye out. Big damn hole there. Helluva thing." Richardson hesitated. "More of a helluva thing is he can still see out of it." "I'm ... not following ..." "He can see out of the socket. Cover his remaining eye, he can see through the eyepatch. 20/20. Better vision than mine. " "But ... there's [i]no eye[/i] there ..." "Son, exactly who do you think you work for?" Samuel gulped, moved on. The last photo showed a young woman with a white streak cutting through dark, shoulder-length hair. Richardson chuckled. "Ahh, her." "She can't be as crazy as they say." "Well, she was a handful enough, and that was [i]before[/i] Seattle. Team went up against some psi-freak who'd cobbled together an empathic feedback coil. She got caught in a psi-wave. A loop." Richardson paused. "Traps you in your worse nightmare for [i]six months[/i] of subjective time. [i]Six months[/i]. In that microsecond she lived half a year in a waist-high pool of corpse soup fighting off flesh-eating toddlers trying to rip her throat out." Samuel looked at the long, long, looonnnng list of Jo's prescribed medications. "She must be completely, dangerously unhinged!" "She just got out of the clinic a week ago." Samuel noticed Richardson didn;t answer the question directly ... "They say she's right as rain as long as she takes all her pills and doesn't drink too much." Richardson sighed. "Only problem is, she doesn't take her pills and she drinks too much." The Director leaned forward. "Okay, rookie. There's your team." He pointed to more files. "There's today's caseload. Make the call. Who you sending where?" Samuel looked at the breakdown of his crisis team (mentally noting [i]"breakdown's the right word ..."[/i]). "Something easy, change of pace after this many tough investigations." He slid one folder across the desk. "This one. They don't even need cover ID's." Richardson glanced at the folder title, nodded. "Not a bad call." He hit his intercom. "Lucy, get First Team in here. They're going to Oregon ..." [/QUOTE]

Verification