Kay-Oh! Inc. HQ (Local)

Joeyray's Bar
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"There are no 'windows,' per se, but your suggestion is very similar to what we had planned for you."

A 3D map pops up. It displays a large, heavily fortified facility. Most of the facility is underground. Numerous guard patrols are outlined along the structure's perimeter and on its exterior. Large cannons, probably designed for use against orbital targets, are mounted on and around the building. A thick wall, shielded and topped with razor wire, surrounds the area, and has only a single gate, which is guarded by dozens of soldiers. The main building itself has three doors, one facing north, one facing the gate in the west, and one facing south. Each is well guarded. There are no windows, and not even any ventilation apertures.

"Apart from the doors, which I'm sure you see are impregnable, there is only one way in."

The holo zooms in, showing a large, oval opening near the top of the building. There are a few guards stationed around it.

"That opening provides ventilation for the entire building. It is the one weak point in the defense. It's really rather sloppily guarded, and there's a reason for that: it is extremely dangerous. The intake is heavily filtered, so going through it would be suicide. The outlet is very high pressure, so keeping your feet would be tough enough. Throw in the fact that they vent toxic, superheated exhaust through there, and it appears to be equally deadly. Just for good measure, the freakin' paranoids went ahead and put the only automated defenses in the whole facility in the outlet tube, as well."

The holo shuts down.

"As you can see, it's not a one-man job. However, the plan you outlined is almost exactly what I had in mind, though the window involved is a bit unconventional."


He smiles and steeples his fingers. "I see you are somewhat familiar with Fictionite. It comes in many different varieties, but most share a great deal of properties. Probably the most famous and widespread type of Fictionite is Adamantine or Adamantium. Mithril is also pretty famous. Then there's neosteel, Valyrian steel, blacksteel, durasteel, and such. Some are more durable and valuable than others within their own worlds, but outside their home dimension they are usually all about the same strength. It has something to do with detachment from their own universe's magnetic fields. It is also known, though, that Fictionite is more powerful in an alloy. The more types that are alloyed together, the stronger (and more valuable) the Fictionite as a whole becomes."

A hologram of a suit of light power armor appears over the table.

"This is the standard power armor our security forces use. It is made of Neosteel, one of the weaker varieties of Fictionite. Not too valuable by itself, but if we secured some other type of Fictionite to combine it with..."
"I suppose you want me to procure some of these fictionite for you? This particular variant you are looking for must be very special and guarded if you need mercenaries to get it," says Yzzrya.
I chuckle at the unconventional bit and smile. "Ah, but it's the unconventional they never expect."

In fact, yes. The particular variety we want is not spectacularly durable, but it is highly valuable. We plan to use the funds we can gain from hybridization (and subsequent sale) of the Fictionite to fund further ventures. If you perform well on this mission, we might have more work for you. The pay, of course, would be just as spectacular as what you will receive for this mission."

He rubs his forehead.

"I should probably get to the actual mission, shouldn't I?"


The Roach smiles. "Exactly. I think we're going to get along very well, Mr. Cronus. Oh, I don't believe I introduced myself. I'm KnarledOne."
01/17/2014 04:16 PMPosted by KnarledOne
"I should probably get to the actual mission, shouldn't I?"

"Please do," Yzzrya says.
"Very well. We want you (and a few other individuals) to infiltrate a highly protected government vault. That vault is filled with bars upon bars of Fictionite. It is extraordinarily heavily guarded, but contains five thousand tons of a type called Hamalian Steel, a fortune. Obviously you're probably wondering how we expect you to get five-thousand tons of metal out of a heavily fortified building."

Seraphim will be able to help with that.
"Pleasure." I continue looking over the hologram before pointing at the one wall with no doorway or entry all of a sudden. "There. I've a plan if you're willing to hear it Mister One."
"We kill everyone, no survivors. Then we transfer it all out with no problem," Yzzrya replies dryly.

Head tilted to the side as if bemused, Yzzrya continues, "Am I wrong?"
With an exhausted breath Noct falls down onto a nearby chair, only for his arms to suddenly flail at the chair's worrisome creaking, leaning and groaning. After a moment's embarrassment, he kicks his feet back and relaxes with a chuckle and a grin.

"Well, those crazy wardens must have sent you through quite a bit of trouble. What sort of things have you put up with in your missions and trials in the mean time? A story for a story is a fair trade, isn't it?"
Sitting down next to Noct, Seraphim scratches at his chin, thinking for a moment;
"Well... there is that one time I helped a militia dispose of a marauding army of golems."
Geez, blade servers are loud!


The Wanderer smiles with a roll of his eyes, a mischievous glint present therein. "That must have been fun to deal with. But you should see some of the craziness from The Ways! Two words is all I need to say: Coffee. Zombies!" He says, punctuating his words and ending the statement with a giggle; "That whole shebang was almost like it was out of some sort of silly film. They even got Solaris! He won't so much as touch a cup of Java out of fear of attacking someone now!"
Seraphim simply arches an eyebrow;
"Coffee zombies... Now there's a new one. I assume you're talking about coffee that turns people into zombies?"

"Go right ahead. I'm interested in hearing your professional assessment."


"Er... I suppose that would theoretically work. But that's not actually what I had in mind. You see, these Hamalians are quite the fighters, and there are hundreds of them guarding the building."

A hologram pops up, displaying what looks like a very large longbow and several arrows.

"Ever the traditionalists, Hamalians rely on extremely archaic weaponry. Well, it appears extremely archaic, but it's much more deadly than it seems. The bow is made for a Hamalian, and thus is massive and capable of firing an arrow a great distance. Additionally, it contains hundreds of nanomotors that make it much more powerful and accurate than an ordinary bow. The arrows come in a number of types: some have shielded tips designed to punch through heavy armor, some carry a deadly electrical charge that can stop your heart (assuming you have one or more of those) in half a second, and others are explosive. The bow is their favorite weapon, but they have some others in the same sort of style."

He looks up.

"The facility has well over a hundred guards, all heavily armed and perfectly trained. Simply exterminating everyone is probably not going to work. We have a different plan, though, one that involves a certain individual, one who is, in fact, sitting out in the lobby right now. Have you heard of the Wanderers? Eh, probably not. Even those who know of them know little about them. However, what we do know is that they possess some... interesting properties. Properties that can allow us to, with only a slight risk of utterly erasing the subject from existence, use one of them as a focal point to open a portal."

Gnarled taps a button and a security feed shows Noct chatting in the lobby. He allows himself a sinister grin.

"I assume you see where I'm going with this."
"So we know the roof is poorly guarded and the doors and gate are rather heavily guarded. However, they have three ways in once through the gate with a fourth unguarded wall. Suppose we drop some kind of heavy weaponry on the roof, automated of course to minimize casualties, to take out the guards up there. That will force them to better guard the roof, lowering the number of guards on the ground." I draw a circle around a small point on the wall I'd pointed at.

"Once they move all those extra men up to the roof, we can set a small, quiet charge on the wall and blow an entry there. We extract the same way. However, I'll still require the motorcycle to get in over the fence."

He taps a metal finger against his jaw.

"Intriguing... hm. I like this plan. Assuming you want the job, I'll have you discuss it with the other mercenaries. We're planning on sending in two others with you, and one of our own will be accompanying you as well. My brother, actually. So, what do you think? Are you in?"
"Long as you pay, but if I die, I'll kill you."
"Having gotten around the multiverse a bit, I know better than to laugh at that. Alright, I need to brief another potential contractor. I'm going to have you head to a different room. Right through that door."

He points.

"I'm going to send another contractor named Noct in there. Brief really quick, and make sure he signs the no talking contract."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, why am I briefing this guy? I hardly know anything about what's going on other than go in, get the money, get out." This seemed like a bit of a bad idea, having the guy who just accepted be the one to brief another mercenary. I mean, normally it made sense, but when the briefer barely knew what was going on, it could end badly. "I'm not saying I won't, but...are you sure it's wise?"
"Indeed," Noct intones and continues. "Turns out, some sort of demon got let loose into some city's water supply. Whole thing went The Walking Dead shortly after that... Don't even get me started on how that whole thing got into motion, because do you have any idea how far you humans can spit?" He laughs, the mist of memories clouding his vision.

"I still remember hauling into that iced-tea processing plant, being chased by a veritable horde of caffeine-bullet-time zombies. When I dropped a processing vat behind me to buy some time, all that half-industrialized crap that spilled out ended up curing them! So I rounded up some power washers, portable tanks and some newfound compatriots, and we all had one hell of a time saving the world! Busting a nasty creature barricaded in some water treatment plant somewhere was certainly a wonderfully fun time." He recalls, suddenly smiling.

"I found Solaris knee-deep in some swap somewhere, chasing some poor gaggle of girls. Certainly goes to show how true he is to himself at the least!"

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