Dr.NES - The D.O.O.M. Project

[Terrance888]

Terni looked at him flipping dice and handed another 25 cents over.

"Darn, your lucky. Wanna bet on some juiced ammo?"

Picks up one of the Juiced AA-12 ammo he found.

He throws it, Donald dodges it as if it is flying in slow motion and it flys into the jungle. It didn't blow up.

"Nice, basic Mercenary training complete. Welcome to the team."

 

[Nuka-sama]

Donald was for the most part average. He was one of the fastest kids in his school in Dublin, but for the rest, average. His report card should've contained mostly C's, he seemed weaker than his classmates, and it was thought he would give up after a while if he saw it wasn't going anywhere. Average.

Yet he had something that you couldn't really see. He was lucky.

For some reason, the test he couldn't study for, he got top marks on. When a tough stronger bully would pick a fight, Donald would win. He knew exactly what to do in every situation.

The DOOM project noted this, and offered Donald this contract. So now he has joined the squad, later than most. While his speed is going to help him, the thing that will save him, is his luck

 

[Milarqui]

OOC: What is Juiced ammo?

 

[Dreadnought]

Update in progress.

 

[Terrance888]

You know, when he said "this little baby can blow this boat out of the water"

He put powdered nitroglycerin probably. Or maybe uranium.

 

[Milarqui]

Ahhh. That is interesting. I had suspected it, but I would have never thought that you would throw around that ammo.

 

[Ninja Dude]

To continue my earlier sarcasm towards Marcus, "No you idiot, the natives don't just run around with guns..." Thomas rolls his eyes, "They will shrink your head instead."

OOC: How does this make any sense? Marcus was commenting on the fact that you guys assume pretty much everything is carrying guns.

 

[Dreadnought]

Update 1
The Jesuit Mission

The Amazon River
17 August 2013
1400 hours

After the initial briefing by Emmanuel, the group had agreed that it was more prudent to gain a long night’s rest before discussing any more information.

Each mercenary slept long and well. The boat was designed to minimize shaking, and each soldier was well-rested before their briefing began again.

Ruben O'Neill turned to each of the group, his gaze shifting from one marine to the next. “Anyone have any input they’d like to say?”

Magnus spoke immediately. “From a pure scientific standpoint, those attacked villages are going to be a festering pit of diseases. We should avoid them.”

“Sarge” chimed in next. “The Mission looks like a good base of operations. Easily defended, with access to the river nearby.”

O’Neill nodded. “Both excellent ideas. I think we should land at the Mission and make our way from there.”

onald MacRaddy spoke up next. “Of course, though, we should investigate the village from a distance while we can.”

“Definitely,” O’Neill replied. “That shouldn’t be a con---”

Emmanuel’s voice sounded over the loudspeaker. “Sorry to interrupt you, but you should check this out. It’s from an International news station:”

The projector flared to life, and a few seconds later began displaying a video:

---

“Welcome to Channel 9 News. I’m Cindy Harrow with John Langon and Gerome Albans.

We are following a breaking story out of the Amazon Rainforest in Brazil. Apparently, a tour-boat was passing by a native village when the tourists onboard realized that these tribesmen had been viciously killed, but they did not know how or why. The ship promptly notified officials; however, that occurred nearly a week ago, and Brazil has not issued any statement between then and yesterday.

“A photographer managed to take a picture of one of the victims; however, it is too gruesome to be placed on our show. We can hardly explain this horror scene; it is so bloody and gory. Needless to say, the murders all occurred with the same brutal force as the one in the photograph.

“After this news story was disclosed, the Brazilian government had this to say:

“ ‘We have been notified of the incident and know it to be tribal warfare, intensified by years of hostility between two tribes. We have mobilized several Brazilian military squads to act as peacekeeping forces to prevent further bloodshed. We hope this situation will reach a quick and just end.’ ”.

“When asked to comment, the US Minister had only this to say: ‘The United States is confident in Brazil’s ability to contain the situation.’ ”.

“We will continue to update you with more information as we receive it.”

---

Not one of the mercenaries spoke. For a single moment, each one of them was quiet, contemplating what they had just heard.

Rachel Goldfarb was the first to speak. She asked to Emmanuel, “What is the status report on those Brazilian squads?”

Emmanuel responded quickly. “As of now, no Brazilian forces have been mobilized, let alone deployed, to the mission area. We are still a go for the mission.”

O’Neill nodded. “Any other information?”

Emmanuel sighed. “You’re not going to believe this. I’m patching through a phone call recently made to our head agent in North America:”

---

A sight static from the phone, then a voice.

“Hello?” the DOOM Project agent said.

“Is Mr. Allen available?” asked the caller.

“Speaking,” Mr. Allen, the Project agent, replied.

“Mr. Allen, I am a representative of the Mobiliery Company. As you may know, the situation in Brazil is most peculiar,” the caller began. He had an upper-class, statesman-like voice. “My company is very interested in this violent,” he coughed, “ ‘Tribal Warfare’. Is your Project in any way having an influence in the aftermath of this calamity?”

“I can neither confirm nor deny that,” Mr. Allen replied.

“That’s a pity,” the Mobiliery Company spokesperson replied. “Should you have been, I had an assignment for your group.”

“What sort of assignment?” Mr. Allen asked.

“A simple one. My Company has reason to believe that the Brazilians have hired your Project for…’cleanup duty’…and we were willing to make a deal. A high-paying deal.”

“How much money are we talking about?”

“Enough money, with such an easy assignment, for your company to readily accept the offer.”

Mr. Allen paused. “Hold on one moment please.”

A pause, then the conversation began again.

Mr. Allen said, “The Project is interested.”

“Good!” the representative replied. “We are only asking for a few…details…about the situation. Your men are already going to be preoccupied with their objectives, but ours should not prove to be too taxing upon them. Simply provide to my company whatever information your men gather from the area. No questions asked.”

“What’s in it for us?” Mr. Allen inquired.

“Of course, the payment will be levied based on the facts forwarded to us. The more information you gather, the greater the payment. We are willing to set a minimum payment to $10 million, and increase it as we see fit.”

The conversation continued, but Emmanuel ended the playback.

---

Andrew Smithson replied first. “What is the Mobiliery Company?”

Emmanuel responded, “It’s a subsidiary of the US Government. It’s a dummy corporation made to cover-up the actions of the government in affairs such as these.”

Vicente “The Jaguar” cut in quickly: “So the US is now interested in what is going on?”

Emmanuel confirmed that statement.

“What are our orders?” Dr. García asked.

“The Project has agreed to the assignment. We are to forward any substantial information gathered directly to the US gover…excuse me, the Mobiliery Company…after the mission is completed.

“You can continue the briefing. I just wanted to throw that information in so that you know what is going on. Valentine out.”

The briefing went well. Each mercenary contributed information based on their opinions and passed experiences, and the plan materialized over time. Their idea was to land at the Mission and to set up a basic campsite as a base and fallback position. They would also investigate Village A from afar and see if they notice any peculiarities in the site.

Finally, the fateful moment arrived. Emmanuel’s voice again sounded over the loudspeaker: “One minute until visual on Village A.”

Each mercenary quickly made their way to the deck, leaning over the rail in order to have a better view of the village. Before they even saw it, however, the horrible stench of the dead overtook their senses, its overwhelming, sickening flavor of biological breakdown compiled the sheer gruesome image that those bloody, torn bodies presented.

“You wanted to see it,” Emmanuel muttered. “There it is.”

It was a sight that none of these experiences commandos had ever had the unfortunate misery to see. There had been genocide in Rwanda, social purging in the former Yugoslav republics, and holocausts in the Middle East; yet, none of these grotesque and horrible situations were nearly as prevalent in their minds as this; the complete eradication of an entire village of innocent people, their bodies left to rot in the sun as both visible and invisible creatures took animalistic pleasure in devouring their rotting corpses.

Each mercenary observed the scene in a different manner. For men such as Magnus and Dr. Garcia, their minds were racing on the twisting road of scientific examination; their thought process completely devoted to uncovering the mystery of these pitiful attacks, not because of the innocence and misfortune these poor villagers had to live, or rather die, through, but because the same mystery presented a question these men could not answer in complete, utter confidence. They needed to know the answer to quench their own thirst for the solution.

For “The Jaguar” and “Sarge”, their minds were calculating the power and determination of their enemy. Their questions did not concern the nature of these attacks, nor the victims; it was a narrow, one-sided approach, visioning the different characteristic that their antagonists now possessed in a grim and absolute calculation. They would need their weapons, they concluded. And they’d need each other. The virtue of ignoring personal differences was an important attribute for mercenaries to have, and this situation was no different. They were a team, and needed to function as such.

Finally, there was a third approach, taken by personalities such as Rachel and Marcus. It was neither the first nor the second; instead, it was ‘somewhere in between’ per say. Their curiosity of their enemy was mixed with feelings concerning combat; whether their skills, etched over years of battle experience, could have possibly prepared them for the mission at hand. They had no fear; their status as mercenaries prevented them from witnessing the birth of anxiety in their being; they were, rather, impetuous – they were eager for the mission to start; the sooner it began, the sooner they could convert their feelings of impatience into the pulling of a trigger.

“Can you see anything of value?” O’Neill asked.

Even with binoculars, both Magnus and Dr. Garcia replied the same, negative response: “No.”

“I need to get closer,” Magnus said. “I can’t tell what happened from so far away.”

“Same with me,” Dr. Garcia added. “I just can’t see enough details about the bodies.”

O’Neill contemplated stopping, to allow a more fruitful result to disclose itself at the onset of the mission. But the time of day presented an insurmountable obstacle for the squad to avoid – he would rather arrange a secure base camp for the mercenaries rather than discover new facts.

“Don’t stop,” O’Neill told Emmanuel. “We must make it to the Mission before nightfall.”


Before they reached the safety of the walled Mission, they first had to travel around the Marsh. Its stench (significant but not comparable in the least to the village) hung around the area like an aura of disgust. Its dark undergrowth disclosed no information of significance. Who knows what lies hidden inside the vast remote fortress of swampy isolation? An entire army of vicious barbarians could take shelter in this watery prison, avoiding the gaze of any and all opponents who would attempt to dismantle their horrendous society.


They arrived at the Mission at the approximated time – 1636 hours, to be precise. Immediately when the boat tethered to the shoreline, the mercenaries’ instinctual battle stance took shape; they brandished their weapons and moved quickly and silently through the Mission, examining the area for any signs of enemies.

There were two buildings – the Mission’s chapel and a cloister for the monks. They split into two groups to check each building simultaneously. The chapel proved easy, as there was only one large, dilapidated room to secure. The cloister proved to be a more length operation, as there were several rooms that needed to be checked. Nevertheless, the initial procedure of the mission proved to be a relieving success: the Mission was abandoned, with neither friend nor foe inhabiting the ruins of the area.

Two discoveries were made, however, which added a slightly positive addition to the knowledge reservoirs of the unit:

In the chapel, Marcus Nitle, upon examining the single room, discovered a narrow stairway that lead up higher into the church. At the top, he discovered a belfry from which he could visually notice most of the area surrounding the Mission, though the jungle was too overgrown to see further that the outskirts of the area.

Meanwhile, Reginald Fitzgibbon discovered something of even more pressing concern:

For Reginald’s eyes only:

Spoiler :

For Fulton only

Spoiler :

A ballpoint pen was lying in a patch of grass. It was there no longer than a few days.

---

 

[Dreadnought]

The time is 1700 hours. Are there any other plans for today? Will you set up a base camp? Will there be any preliminary exploration in the surrounding area?

If you want, plan for both tonight and tomorrow morning, so that I can combine the updates into 1 single entry.

Notes from the Moderator
--Your guys' discussions are making this game great so far. Keep up the excellent work!
--The boat will be leaving during next update. Should you require a change in inventory, do it before the boat leaves!
--I think this update came out pretty good. I took a rest between the phone call section and the arrival, and I think that helped my writing a bit.
--Please don't read the spoiler unless you are Fulton. If he does not express that he has read it within a few days, then I will open it to the public.
--Good luck.

 

[Ninja Dude]

"I say we make up a small group to scout out the area around the mission. 1 person will stay in the belfrey to spot any trouble, and the rest of us will set up camp."

 

[germanicus12]

I volunteer to go out, you might need my heavy guns.

 

[carmen510]

"I volunteer our sniper to stay in the tower, it'll be much easier for all of us if he covers us from a tall height. Also, I'll stay in the Church lobby in case something problematic happens. I'll barricade the windows and some of the entrances."

 

[germanicus12]

"I volunteer our sniper to stay in the tower, it'll be much easier for all of us if he covers us from a tall height. Also, I'll stay in the Church lobby in case something problematic happens. I'll barricade the windows and some of the entrances."

How do you plan on barricading them? There are no glass or boards nearby. Unless the boat has some boards we can use. No I would rather set up my machine gun at the door and have the rapid fire weapons that some members have take positions near the windows. This way they can respond quickly should the sniper report any movements.

If this is the case then I cannot go unfortunately as I am the only member with a heavy machine gun for the door.

 

[Dreadnought]

OOC: The cloister and mission each are still standing, and have no holes in their walls or anything. They are made of stone and are in reasonably good condition.

 

[carmen510]

OOC: I'll blow apart the church to make cover.

"I think we might be able to cut some small trees with an axe, which the ship probably has. Although your heavy weapons idea is good too. Maybe I'll just stick to the lobby and hide by a window."

 

[germanicus12]

OOC: The cloister and mission each are still standing, and have no holes in their walls or anything. They are made of stone and are in reasonably good condition.

I was referring to the windows unless the pic is wrong? I was just going by the what the pic showed.

IC:

Pending orders from the leader I will set up my heavy machine gun at the door and have my M4 at the ready.

 

[Dreadnought]

A more detailed map of the mission area is in the process of being made

 

[Nuka-sama]

"The Scouting team will need someone fast and a guy with a bit of luck. I'm your man"

 

[Dreadnought]

 

[Nuka-sama]

Not many people knew Donald's past. In 2010, when he was 19, Civil War broke out in Ireland, between the elected Protestant Republican government, and the Fascist Catholic reactionaries. Joining the Special Forces in the incredible "Burning Spear" brigade, he fought for the Republic under his Brother and Captain, Ryan MacRaddy.

Donald was carefree, and a good soldier. However, he was scarred forever during the "incident".

At 23:00, March 29th, the Burning Spear attempted to end the war by capturing the Nationalist base, Celtic Noose. The operation was surprisingly successful, until the Nationalist forces surrounded his brigade. It was a trap. His brother was able to create a distraction long enough for most of his comrades to escape until he was gun downed by a U.S. supplied Black Raven Gunship as Donald watched. Of the 50 squad members, only 17 survived.

The war went on. American supplies helped the Nationalists take Dublin on April 4th, capturing Ronald MacDonald, President of the Republic of Ireland, and commander in chief of the Grand Army of the Republic.

On April 15th, the remnants of the Burning Spear led by Donald attempted to rescue MacDonald and eliminate the two enemies; Robert Kennedy, leader of the Nationalists, and John Westley, leader of American forces in Ireland.

All that is known about the operation is that no one remained free, Donald being gunned down by a Black Raven on April 17th, 14 others captured and taken to Dregg, the other 2 killed.

Yet Donald was alive. That was his luck. As he made his way into Dregg as a civilian, he was able to break into a military instillation, hoping to find his brother, to see if he was not killed, but captured like his squad members. Alas, the only thing he found was that most of Nationalist finances came from something called the Mobiliery Company.....


*end flashback*