Dreadnought
Deity
Update 0
The Arrival
Manaus, Brazil
17 August 2013
0200 Hours
The city was vacant, save for a few teenage partiers and drunken folk. Normally, most of the citizens were home, sleeping silently, with only the calm, flowing waters of the Amazon as a lullaby. The people of Manaus were unrelated to the jovial partying folk of Rio de Janeiro. Quiet and discipline were virtues in this town.
Yet, suddenly, there was activity on the streets. Not rioters, or even a gang, but a single man, walking calmly and collectively towards the water’s edge. A few moments later, a second man followed him, then a third, and so on, walking separately to avoid suspicion. They were dressed in normal civilian attire, and any random person on the street would assume they were regular citizens.
They were not. They are well-trained, elite mercenaries, each possessing the skill to destroy every inhabitant of this city. But their objective was not suppression of an innocent populace; they had ‘bigger fish to fry’.
They each had been assigned this mission by the executives back in Dresden for this extremely important assignment. The Brazilian government was paying high amounts of money for a successful conclusion to this ‘problem’, and thus only the best-of-the-best in the company received a commission.
The only suspicion the company had was the nature of the assignment: the Brazilians did not know what had happened. Combine that with the fact that this needed an outside company to cover-up was somewhat disconcerting. Nevertheless, Brazil authorized the use of force, and there is no easier way to earn money than by decimating every living thing in a relatively small area.
Or so they thought.
But that is besides the point. The squad they had assembled consisted of the greatest soldiers of the world:
Andrew Smithson, a veteran of the War on Terror, who distinguished himself in Afghanistan a few years previously.
Vicente Lopez Carlos Vázquez, hailing from Mexico; he ably earned his nickname, ‘The Jaguar’, while fighting drug lords in, ironically, the isolated jungle.
Magnus, an elusive and, quite frankly, unknown genius of a man, assigned to the squad based on his intellectual strengths rather than his firearm expertise.
Thomas "Sarge" Logan, a former sergeant with honors in the US Army, whose mysterious and turbulent childhood shaped his career as a warrior.
Marcus Nitle, the son of a ‘filthy rich’ business man; he enlisted in the DOOM Project to elude his overprotective family.
Dr. Nicolás García, an exceptionally talented doctor in the Spanish Army; his extensive combat resume includes operations in the Balkans, Congo, Ethiopia, and Lebanon.
Terni Hashno, a talented soldier who has been an elite member of the DOOM Project for several years.
Nigel Chamberlin, hailing from England; his extensive experience as a soldier allowed his entry into the DOOM Project.
Louis de Bourbon, a giant of a man; his history, biography, and personality are virtually unknown to all but a few.
Reginald Fitzgibbon, originally from Ontario; his experienced and skilled tenure in the Canadian forces and the Blackwater Organization was fueled by his relatives’ war stories.
And last, but certainly not least, the commander of the mission: Ruben O'Neill.
They each had a different purpose for joining the DOOM Project, but each was talented in their own fields. They were hand-selected to perform this extremely important mission. Their will was unwavering; their skills unmatched.
The boat they boarded seemed a substandard and battered vessel. The paint was aged and tarnished, and the metal rusted. Few people, if any, would suspect that this vessel contained some of the most expensive and complicated equipment from across the globe; fewer even would dream that a plethora of weapons, ammunition, and medical equipment was stored in the under-deck of the vessel.
As each man took his seat in the cabin, Mr. Emmanuel Valetine greeted them with a quiet “Hello.” He was the director of covert operations for the DOOM Project in South America, and had worked with the organization for many years. He was the captain, or “skipper” as Marcus Nitle called him, of the ship. He would be responsible for their drop-off in this mission; however, he would not accompany them.
“Alright gentlemen, may I have you attention please,” he began, speaking calmly and politely. “You all know how imperative success is in this mission. That is why you were chosen. You are the best-of-the-best, the crème-de-la-crème of the Project. And trust me, you are going to need it.”
He paused, perhaps for dramatic effect. Yet, none of the mercenaries interrupted him. They had all been through much; firefights in Kashmir, melees in Bosnia, and duels in Afghanistan. This would be no different.
Or would it?
“There have been several…” he paused for the right word. Finding no suitable phrase, he continued, “…attacks along the River, some miles down. They are rather gruesome, and…and…quite frankly, I have no idea what to make of it. I have never seen anything like it.” (Having Emmanuel say that is striking, given his years of experience).
He continued, “Nevertheless, we have been hired to investigate the area. A research team was sent, several days ago, to do this work. They are M.I.A. We are to collect evidence and find that team…”
Vicente, “The Jaguar”, interrupted him. “So this is babysitting work?”
“No,” Emmanuel retorted, “the military would have been sent in if this was a simple mission. This is complicated. We have to investigate the area, find the research team, and discover what is causing this.”
Thomas, "Sarge", chimed in with an honest question: “What is the protocol with our weapons?”
Emmanuel replied, “We are allowed to use whatever force necessary.”
Several members of the group sighed with relief. Too many times in their past, their former military organizations had limited their targets, citing ‘rules of war’ and ‘public image’. This would make the job much easier.
“And,” he continued, “I suggest you shoot first, and ask questions later.”
Now that was surprising. They were mercenaries, and expected to fight, but that was bordering intense.
Emmanuel turned to a projector nearby. Pressing a button, he turned on the equipment, and a map appeared behind him.
“This is a satellite image of the area. As you can see, it is a relatively large area. The jungle is thick in many areas, and it is cut by several native paths through the area. The only real landmark is a small mountain, located next to the river.
“There are five villages in the area. Two of them have been attacked; the other three’s status is unknown. Those are the villages you must go to. Also, there is an old Jesuit mission located by the river to the north, should you find it necessary to find shelter.
“Unfortunately, the research team didn’t have a concrete plan for their investigation. They could have landed in either the mission or the first village, Village A, and proceeded inwards from there. O’Neill,” he turned to the commander, “it’ll be your call.
“As for extraction, we have a helicopter on call 100 miles away. Should you call it, it would arrive in approximately two hours to pick you up…”
“What about you?“ Terni Hashno asked.
Emmanuel sighed. “The administration wants me to drop you off in the mission area, and to leave after that…”
Several of the mercenaries spoke at once. “Why’s that?” “That’s crazy!” “You should stay, sir.”
Emmanuel held up his hand to quiet them, and continued. “The administration doesn’t want me to stay because they want you to be aggressive in completing this mission. If I stay, they assume you will stay within close proximity of the boat.”
“Sir, if I may speak,” Reginald Fitzgibbon interjected. “We are not a conscripted rabble. We won’t run in fear the moment we land. We can be trusted to complete the mission while you stay. It is good for safety’s sake, sir. I think we are too isolated for help to arrive quickly.”
“We don’t need help,” Andrew Smithson muttered.
“Even so,” Reginald continued, “it would be a better plan.”
“I definitely agree,” said Emmanuel. “However, the administration does have an understandable point. Nevertheless, I have full faith in you guys. I will drop you off, but remain in the general area, should you need help.”
A few sighs of relief sounded through the cabin.
“Just a few more words before I let you plan,” Emmanuel concluded. “Just a few specifics. You all know your objectives. Consult below if you need a reminder. Also, the sun rises at around 0530 hours, and begins setting at 1800 hours, with complete darkness around 1830 hours. Factor that into your planning as well.
“Finally,” he began, turning to Magnus, “the Project is…interested, I assume is the right word…in what is happening here. Should it be an extremely aggressive animal responsible for these attacks, they would most interested in a live sample being procured for tests. I assume you have the necessary equipment for such an operation.”
Magnus nodded.
“I’m done,” Emmanuel finished. “I open the floor to your discussion. Keep in mind, we will arrive at the mission landing point at around 1600 hours later today.”
Emmanuel Valentine turned away and left the room. The remaining mercenaries looked to O'Neill to begin the discussion. O'Neill turned to the map and studied it for a few moments.
As he turned to begin planning, the ship's engines roared to life, and slowly the riverboat chugged down the Amazon.
Their mission had begun.
- - - - -
The Arrival
Manaus, Brazil
17 August 2013
0200 Hours
The city was vacant, save for a few teenage partiers and drunken folk. Normally, most of the citizens were home, sleeping silently, with only the calm, flowing waters of the Amazon as a lullaby. The people of Manaus were unrelated to the jovial partying folk of Rio de Janeiro. Quiet and discipline were virtues in this town.
Yet, suddenly, there was activity on the streets. Not rioters, or even a gang, but a single man, walking calmly and collectively towards the water’s edge. A few moments later, a second man followed him, then a third, and so on, walking separately to avoid suspicion. They were dressed in normal civilian attire, and any random person on the street would assume they were regular citizens.
They were not. They are well-trained, elite mercenaries, each possessing the skill to destroy every inhabitant of this city. But their objective was not suppression of an innocent populace; they had ‘bigger fish to fry’.
They each had been assigned this mission by the executives back in Dresden for this extremely important assignment. The Brazilian government was paying high amounts of money for a successful conclusion to this ‘problem’, and thus only the best-of-the-best in the company received a commission.
The only suspicion the company had was the nature of the assignment: the Brazilians did not know what had happened. Combine that with the fact that this needed an outside company to cover-up was somewhat disconcerting. Nevertheless, Brazil authorized the use of force, and there is no easier way to earn money than by decimating every living thing in a relatively small area.
Or so they thought.
But that is besides the point. The squad they had assembled consisted of the greatest soldiers of the world:
Andrew Smithson, a veteran of the War on Terror, who distinguished himself in Afghanistan a few years previously.
Vicente Lopez Carlos Vázquez, hailing from Mexico; he ably earned his nickname, ‘The Jaguar’, while fighting drug lords in, ironically, the isolated jungle.
Magnus, an elusive and, quite frankly, unknown genius of a man, assigned to the squad based on his intellectual strengths rather than his firearm expertise.
Thomas "Sarge" Logan, a former sergeant with honors in the US Army, whose mysterious and turbulent childhood shaped his career as a warrior.
Marcus Nitle, the son of a ‘filthy rich’ business man; he enlisted in the DOOM Project to elude his overprotective family.
Dr. Nicolás García, an exceptionally talented doctor in the Spanish Army; his extensive combat resume includes operations in the Balkans, Congo, Ethiopia, and Lebanon.
Terni Hashno, a talented soldier who has been an elite member of the DOOM Project for several years.
Nigel Chamberlin, hailing from England; his extensive experience as a soldier allowed his entry into the DOOM Project.
Louis de Bourbon, a giant of a man; his history, biography, and personality are virtually unknown to all but a few.
Reginald Fitzgibbon, originally from Ontario; his experienced and skilled tenure in the Canadian forces and the Blackwater Organization was fueled by his relatives’ war stories.
And last, but certainly not least, the commander of the mission: Ruben O'Neill.
They each had a different purpose for joining the DOOM Project, but each was talented in their own fields. They were hand-selected to perform this extremely important mission. Their will was unwavering; their skills unmatched.
The boat they boarded seemed a substandard and battered vessel. The paint was aged and tarnished, and the metal rusted. Few people, if any, would suspect that this vessel contained some of the most expensive and complicated equipment from across the globe; fewer even would dream that a plethora of weapons, ammunition, and medical equipment was stored in the under-deck of the vessel.
As each man took his seat in the cabin, Mr. Emmanuel Valetine greeted them with a quiet “Hello.” He was the director of covert operations for the DOOM Project in South America, and had worked with the organization for many years. He was the captain, or “skipper” as Marcus Nitle called him, of the ship. He would be responsible for their drop-off in this mission; however, he would not accompany them.
“Alright gentlemen, may I have you attention please,” he began, speaking calmly and politely. “You all know how imperative success is in this mission. That is why you were chosen. You are the best-of-the-best, the crème-de-la-crème of the Project. And trust me, you are going to need it.”
He paused, perhaps for dramatic effect. Yet, none of the mercenaries interrupted him. They had all been through much; firefights in Kashmir, melees in Bosnia, and duels in Afghanistan. This would be no different.
Or would it?
“There have been several…” he paused for the right word. Finding no suitable phrase, he continued, “…attacks along the River, some miles down. They are rather gruesome, and…and…quite frankly, I have no idea what to make of it. I have never seen anything like it.” (Having Emmanuel say that is striking, given his years of experience).
He continued, “Nevertheless, we have been hired to investigate the area. A research team was sent, several days ago, to do this work. They are M.I.A. We are to collect evidence and find that team…”
Vicente, “The Jaguar”, interrupted him. “So this is babysitting work?”
“No,” Emmanuel retorted, “the military would have been sent in if this was a simple mission. This is complicated. We have to investigate the area, find the research team, and discover what is causing this.”
Thomas, "Sarge", chimed in with an honest question: “What is the protocol with our weapons?”
Emmanuel replied, “We are allowed to use whatever force necessary.”
Several members of the group sighed with relief. Too many times in their past, their former military organizations had limited their targets, citing ‘rules of war’ and ‘public image’. This would make the job much easier.
“And,” he continued, “I suggest you shoot first, and ask questions later.”
Now that was surprising. They were mercenaries, and expected to fight, but that was bordering intense.
Emmanuel turned to a projector nearby. Pressing a button, he turned on the equipment, and a map appeared behind him.
“This is a satellite image of the area. As you can see, it is a relatively large area. The jungle is thick in many areas, and it is cut by several native paths through the area. The only real landmark is a small mountain, located next to the river.
“There are five villages in the area. Two of them have been attacked; the other three’s status is unknown. Those are the villages you must go to. Also, there is an old Jesuit mission located by the river to the north, should you find it necessary to find shelter.
“Unfortunately, the research team didn’t have a concrete plan for their investigation. They could have landed in either the mission or the first village, Village A, and proceeded inwards from there. O’Neill,” he turned to the commander, “it’ll be your call.
“As for extraction, we have a helicopter on call 100 miles away. Should you call it, it would arrive in approximately two hours to pick you up…”
“What about you?“ Terni Hashno asked.
Emmanuel sighed. “The administration wants me to drop you off in the mission area, and to leave after that…”
Several of the mercenaries spoke at once. “Why’s that?” “That’s crazy!” “You should stay, sir.”
Emmanuel held up his hand to quiet them, and continued. “The administration doesn’t want me to stay because they want you to be aggressive in completing this mission. If I stay, they assume you will stay within close proximity of the boat.”
“Sir, if I may speak,” Reginald Fitzgibbon interjected. “We are not a conscripted rabble. We won’t run in fear the moment we land. We can be trusted to complete the mission while you stay. It is good for safety’s sake, sir. I think we are too isolated for help to arrive quickly.”
“We don’t need help,” Andrew Smithson muttered.
“Even so,” Reginald continued, “it would be a better plan.”
“I definitely agree,” said Emmanuel. “However, the administration does have an understandable point. Nevertheless, I have full faith in you guys. I will drop you off, but remain in the general area, should you need help.”
A few sighs of relief sounded through the cabin.
“Just a few more words before I let you plan,” Emmanuel concluded. “Just a few specifics. You all know your objectives. Consult below if you need a reminder. Also, the sun rises at around 0530 hours, and begins setting at 1800 hours, with complete darkness around 1830 hours. Factor that into your planning as well.
“Finally,” he began, turning to Magnus, “the Project is…interested, I assume is the right word…in what is happening here. Should it be an extremely aggressive animal responsible for these attacks, they would most interested in a live sample being procured for tests. I assume you have the necessary equipment for such an operation.”
Magnus nodded.
“I’m done,” Emmanuel finished. “I open the floor to your discussion. Keep in mind, we will arrive at the mission landing point at around 1600 hours later today.”
Emmanuel Valentine turned away and left the room. The remaining mercenaries looked to O'Neill to begin the discussion. O'Neill turned to the map and studied it for a few moments.
As he turned to begin planning, the ship's engines roared to life, and slowly the riverboat chugged down the Amazon.
Their mission had begun.
- - - - -
