RP:Infection/Outbreak

CommanderTony (post 1)
00:01 - 20 OCTOBER 2550 NEW HARMONY, GAMMA CENTAURI, SECTOR TWO ANDROMEDA MILITARY SCIENCE INSTITUTE

Within the Andromeda MSI, an eerie presence permeated throughout the clean interior. Dr. Vladimir Petrovich, chief scientist at the facility, was walking such halls when he heard silent thumping from the rooms ahead; wondering what sort of activity could be going on at such time of the night, Petrovich decided to check it out. Cautiously walking to the primary research lab where he thought the thumping was coming from, the elderly scientist began to hear more violent and agonizing noises as he went on.

As a veteran member of the institute, Petrovich has seen his fair share of miraculous and strange events occurring on his watch. Within visual distance of the lab's only entrance, he pondered on an outbreak that happened recently in his career at Andromeda. Only four years ago, Vladimir Petrovich was caught in a firefight between a group of Rebel infiltrators and the ONI Marine guards at the facility. The Rebels gained intelligence that their soldiers were being held in detention at the very place he called home; truth was — they were right...to an extent. Ultimately learning about the whereabouts of their former comrades-in-arms, Rebel soldiers unleashed the prisoners upon their former captors. Though the "prisoners" and the soldiers were quickly subdued by the resourceful Marines, the lessons learned on that day would be embedded in everyone who experienced it. Vladimir then reached for his sidearm....

"Flash!" called out Petrovich, hoping to alert any Andromeda personnel.

To his chagrin, nobody bothered to respond with a countersign...

"Hello — is anyone there? Can anyone hear me?"

Again, no response was given to Vladimir. Manually opening the auto-doors further, the noises in other rooms continued to increase in volume and frequency. Just as he was about to let his guard down and believe that this was all a prank by the newer Marines and scientists, Petrovich heard grumbling and shuffling in the conference room to his left. Stealthily walking into the room, he noticed a tall Asiatic man standing behind the table. First assuming that he was an escaped subject, Vladimir threw flexi-cuffs across the hand-crafted mahogany table hoping that this man would be subdued easily. After a few seconds of dead silence, the scientist made a step forward and raised his sidearm at the subject, hoping a bit of violence would motivate the man to comply with his demands.

"What? Are you simple! Put your damn hands behind your back and cuff yourself, it's not that fucking hard!" an annoyed Petrovich sarcastically told the man.

After minutes of statue-like behavior on the subject's part, he finally gave a short and clear message to Vladimir. Bitchy Bob, a nickname the doctor gave to him just moments before, opened his mouth and liters of blood began to spill out, growling at him at the same time. Finally realizing that he wasn't just an ordinary subject, Vladimir shot Bob just a few centimeters below his left eye...he didn't go down.

Even with a bullet lodged within his skull, Bob stood his ground and continued to growl at Petrovich, likely "strategizing" his next move against the doctor. A gunfight quickly ensued in the rooms surrounding the lab, and before Bob had a chance to strike down Petrovich, the scientist quickly ran out of the room knocking anything down in his path. Rather than chasing him down, Bob calmly walked out of the room and proceeded to head towards detention facilities. Petrovich ran to the nearest communications terminal and initiated a facility-wide lockdown, hoping to prevent outbreak of the Seoulnum virus, a biological weapon he had been working on for the past decade. Teams of Marines were put on high alert and sent throughout the facility to hunt Bob and any subjects down before they could contaminate the rest of Andromeda. The rookie Marines assigned to the facility were caught off-guard by Bob and his heightened senses, easily gaining access to the detention areas.

While a normal Seoulnum infectee doesn't have any increased abilities to further expand the viruses outbreak upon a population, Bob was naturally a body-builder prior to becoming a subject for Petrovich and Andromeda. While this allowed him to open up the doors with ease, the dozens, if not hundreds, of cells would take minutes to open — allowing the Marines to contain the outbreak in one swift action. To his surprise, Bob was overwhelmed with anger and excitement when all of the cells suddenly opened simultaneously. Within seconds, over 50 infected subjects were released by an unknown source within the facility.

Running rampant around Andromeda, the Seoulnum infectees overran Marine and automated defenses, gathering new resources as they press forward. By 00:45 hours, the outbreak had spread throughout the facility, and were knocking on the doorstep to the first two levels. A loosely organized band of Marines and scientist barricaded themselves in front of the security gates for the third and second levels. An overwhelming force that tripled in size from the time of large-scale facility outbreak rushed the hastily-built fortifications in mass-numbers. For ten minutes, Andromeda personnel pushed back wave after wave of infected subjects, and were close to containing the outbreak without a single loss by their efforts. Unfortunately for the defenders, their ammunition supply was running dry as the minutes past, and every time a small group of subjects began to run at the Marines, the more their chances of success were lost. At 01:00 hours, the Marines ordered a general retreat out of the facility.

As Bob was finally within range of their guns, he charged at the retreating Marines, wiping down a quarter dozen of them with a single lunge. Quickly, the other infected swarmed on the dead bodies and began to proceed to the main level of Andromeda. Unfortunately for the surviving Marines and scientists who were able to escape, they had numerous bitten personnel within their ranks. Before they could react to their former comrades, numerous others were already showing symptoms and complete infection. Seoulnum was on the verge of complete infestation throughout Andromeda, and there was nothing more the survivors could do about it. In one last act of heroism, all of them committed suicide to prevent their eventual infection by the subjects they once abused and tortured. Finally arriving at the main level, Bob and the Seoulnum infectees growled in anger and pounded on the main door and large bulletproof windows. Without warning to them, the door managed to open all on it's own — without the need for Human interaction. Roaring in excitement, the infected rushed out of the facility into the valley below...leaving it in a husk of mutilated carcasses.

"SCION TO COMMAND. I HAVE INITIATED LEVEL ONE LOCKDOWN PROCEDURES. NO SUCCESS. CRUSADERS BE WARNED! OVER" a shaken Petrovich whispered into his chatter.

117649AR (post 1)
05:00 - 21 OCTOBER 2550 NEW HARMONY, GAMMA CENTAURI, SECTOR TWO WINSDOWN ARMOURED TRAINING CENTRE, EN ROUTE TO ANDROMEDA MILITARY SCIENCE INSTITUTE

The M122 Saxon thundered onto the road through the large gates of the Training Centre, kicking up dust and gravel as it moved in line with the other eight IFV's. The call had come in only several hours before, during the middle of the mounting and dismounting exercises at the Centre, and they'd been ordered to mount up and move on out. The destination was the Andromeda Military Science Institute, a sort of high-security lab that the ONI spooks and military researchers frequented; all hush-hush, secretive work.

"Oi... you know what exactly they do there?"

"Hell if I know, mate. Probably testing combat drugs on monkeys or some sh*te."

The soldiers in the compartment had a good laugh of it, before the PSG told the lot of them to shut it. The line came to a halt.

The order came to dismount, and the infantrymen marched out as the back hatch opened up; the entire area, a perimetre around a large mountain pass, was covered by polycarbonate and instacrete fortifications. Constables were swarming over, looking somewhat nervous, fidgeting every now and then at the sidearms on their hips as their eyes flitted from the newly arrived Colonial Infantry to the dark and shrouded pass to the other side. The PL's and the CO had since walked over to one of the tents set up along the rough semi-circle, discussing matters inaudibly, and the Saxons, with their associated squads, had moved along the curve of fortifications.

Two Gendarmes, standing by one of the polycarbonate barricades of the semicircular perimetre, glanced at the newly arrived Mechanised Infantry with suspicious eyes.

"Bleedin' hell are the troops doing here?"

"Dunno, mate... but it's right fuckin' odd."

"You'd think the bloody twats up high could care to tell us what, exactly, we're supposed t'be watching for."

The other law enforcement officer, looking briefly at the shrouded mountain pass, folded his arms across his chest and sighed.

"Amen to that."

Back across the perimetre, at the hastily put-up command tent, the Platoon Leaders and the Commanding Officer exited. The PL's were ushered back to their units, and the Colonial Army Captain briskly removed a cigar from a case in his coat pocket, lighting it and taking in the smoke. The M122's had since become interspersed between the Gendarmerie Barricades, turrets pointed squarely towards the chasm, nearby infantry aiming weapons down range. The Captain took another puff of the cigar, sighed slowly, and walked back into the tent.

The Colonial infantrymen kneeled and lay prone in their combat firing positions, protected by a cluster of instacrete and polycarbonate barricades, combat barriers, and a lacing of barbed wire, checking their weapons once, twice, and again. It -the entire situation- was simply too silent. Too odd. Too... awkward. The Saxons had taken up positions around the perimetre, the Gendarmes were patrolling the fortifications with service pistols and shotguns, and the PL's stood straight, staring solemnly as shadows shifted in the pass.

A young soldier walked by to the 2nd Lieutenant, and looked down for a spell before asking.

"Sir... with all due respect, what are we meant to be doing here?"

The Platoon Leader cocked his head to the side, just enough to bring the rifleman's face into view.

"Holding the bloody line."

Sgt.johnson (post 1)
02:31 - 21 OCTOBER 2550 NEW HARMONY, GAMMA CENTAURI, SECTOR TWO Déjà vu GENTLEMAN'S CLUB

Travis tilted his head as so to get a good glimpse of the waitresses’ undergarments. She was nineteen, cute, and the two had incessantly flirted with each other while she delivered the trio’s drinks.

In the smoke-filled room, one could make out several poles, all of which had exotic dancers showing their moves on them. One could also make out three men. They looked average, at least from a distance. They were taller than most other men on the colony world, and it was obvious that they were outsiders.

What wasn’t obvious was their true profession, or who they worked for. While on the world, if anyone asked them what they did for a living, they would state that they worked for Acumen Science Laboratories or Phade Technology Industry. Who they actually worked for was the Office of Naval Intelligence, Section Three, Naval Special Weapons. They were the deadliest warriors this side of the galaxy, but for now, they were normal men enjoying what normal men enjoy the most – women.

Another waitress passed by with a plate of hot-wings, and when she saw who had ordered them, she quickly grabbed a pen.

“Thanks,” said Travis, managing a sly smile.

She quickly wrote down a series of digits on the paper, folded it, and handed it to Travis. She quickly walked away, putting her apron away and grabbing her purse.

Travis opened it, and he read what was on the paper:


 * Apartment C, 3913 Cole Road

Travis smiled at his good fortune, re-folded the paper, and caught up to the waitress without saying bye to Jack and Carter, who both knew what he was up to. They also had the same plan, and with Travis out of the way, they could put it into action. *** 05:17 - 21 OCTOBER 2550 NEW HARMONY, GAMMA CENTAURI, SECTOR TWO APARTMENT C, 3913 COLE ROAD

Travis rolled over, sweat dripping from his brow.

''Mission. Accomplished.'' he thought to himself while folding his arms behind his head. The waitress was panting and sweating from the intense three hour period of love-making.

"That... was amazing," said the waitress, finally rolling over to sleep with a sigh.

Travis also rolled over, and then he realized that he had made a tactical mistake.

''What is that girl’s name… Kathy? Becky? Tiffany?''

He decided that he would sneak out to the hotel room he had rented at 0530, and he did just that, leaving behind a bawling, and strangely happy, Beth.

CarpeJugulum (post 1)
O5:32 - 21 OCTOBER 2550 NEW HARMONY, GAMMA CENTAURI, SECTOR TWO HUNTINGTON COUNTY, TYUMEN REGION: ASHCROFT ESTATE

Theodore Ashcroft blinked blearily as his bedside alarm beeped softly, indicating a new message. Grumbling, Ashcroft reached for the switch and flicked it. A holographic screen appeared, with a new message in his inbox. The sender was listed as Ashcroft's commanding officer and the general of the Monastir Guards, Henry West. Curious, Ashcroft opened the file.

The message detailed an immediate activation to full-alert status of all UNSC Army units on New Harmony, effective as of this morning. The reason was flagged as a Code Arcturus, meaning a unit-wide drill.

The message collapsed suddenly. A new box popped up in the air, stating that another pair of eyes was reading the file, which was semi-classified material. Ashcroft turned and saw his wife, Catherine, looking over his shoulder. "What was that?" she asked, concern in her eyes.

"I'm not really sure," Ashcroft replied, which was true. "It looks like some kind of drill. They're calling in all of the Eleventh Airborne."

"Do you think there's anything wrong?" Catherine asked. "This seems rather abrupt for a drill."

Ashcroft shook his head. "No, just keeping us at top readiness." He stood and walked to the bathroom, where he took a quick shower and shaved before changing into his dress uniform. When he emerged, Catherine was standing, wearing a robe. "How long do you think you'll be gone?"

Ashcroft walked to her and kissed her softly. "Only a couple of days, three at the very most," he said, and walked downstairs into the kitchen, where he opened another holographic window to finish reading the message as he made a quick breakfast. As the bacon sizzled in the pan, he began reading the message. The rest of it was boring details- procedures for reporting in, information to be given to the men, and so on. One of the provisions, however, was surprising to Ashcroft. It authorized unit commanders to give their soldiers live ammunition.

Closing the window, Ashcroft finally noticed that the speed-cooker had, without supervision or proper settings, burned his breakfast. Ashcroft swore and dumped the whole mess into the garbage, reminding himself to learn how to operate the thing one of these days. Walking out to the garage, he climbed into a metallic silver civilian-model Warthog and began the drive to the headquarters of the Airborne Guards of Huntington, hoping to be done with this nonsense soon.

Shivly (post 1)
O5:00 - 21 OCTOBER 2550 NEW HARMONY, GAMMA CENTAURI, SECTOR TWO HUNTINGTON COUNTY, TYUMEN REGION: MCCRAW FAMILY GYM

Alex Mccraw just finished his morning workout, he had been pratacing his CQB on his Familys heavy bag. He took a new, clean towl and his forehead clean of its sweat

Soon after finishing his work out he went back into his home, his family still asleep, his mother, his father, and two little cousins were sleeping on the Futon in the living room. He walked himself into the bathroom and turned the cold water |ON| and with that he stipe of his clothing at steped into his Shower.

O5:38 - 21 OCTOBER 2550 NEW HARMONY, GAMMA CENTAURI, SECTOR TWO HUNTINGTON COUNTY, TYUMEN REGION: MCCRAW FAMILY Home

Alex stood in the shower for a little over a half hour, when he steped out he looked at his Messaging device and saw his one new message, he checked it and saw that it was a call up for all UNSC ARMY Soldiers. He dident pay any attention to this just thinknig it was going to be a simple drill for them to get back in shape for what ever may come to them

He put a towl of his body, not taking to much time to dry off. He walked slowy to his room to retreive his BDU, he put it on fast but effiecently so not to look rushed. He took a little time to cook himself a small breakfast, Microwaved hashbrowns and Bacon. He sat there eating taking his time saying to himself in his head "Not to worry just a drill, just a drill".

Alex began to walk, he looked at his mother and father and waved bye even though they were asleep and he got on his Motercyle, on his way to the headquarters of the Airborne Guards of Hunigton. He hoped that this would just be a fun exercise for the Airbourne Guards

Sgt.T.N.Biscuits (post 1)
05:21 - 21 OCTOBER 2550 NEW HARMONY, GAMMA CENTAURI, SECTOR TWO FIREBASE PHOENIX (Airborne Guards of Huntington Base of Operations), HUNTINGTON COUNTY, TYUMEN CAPITAL REGION "Sir, something's happened."

"Oh bloody hell," Warrant Officer Ross Ainsley remarked as a blonde haired recruit approached him with a worried expression covering his face. “So what’s our problem…” Ainsley looked down at the recruit’s uniform, stopping at the name stitched on it. “Davis?”

“Well sir, we have national emergency on our hands. I’m not sure what it is exactly, but the heads up in Monastir seem pretty damn worried about it.” Ainsley picked up his MA5B, pulled back the charging handle and placed an ACOG scope on the top rails as the recruit continued to update him. “Rumor has it that they’re worried of a Covenant invasion. But if you ask me I think it’s a bunch of rubbish. I mean it’s been what, twent-“

“Private, just give me the damn update. Save the rants for yourself.” Ainsley interrupted. He had just got off of a large drinking spree the night before and he was in no mood to wait. The only reason the Warrant Officer was here in the first place was because of Army Colonel James Ackerson. Ainsley had been serving under the Colonel for several years now, and Ackerson felt the Officer could use a vacation on New Harmony. Too bad that vacation involved serving as an exchange officer in the military garrison there.

“As you wish sir,” Private Davis quickly remarked. “Anyway, General West put all units on full alert and Colonel Scott wants you alongside the 331st Squadron ASAP. I'm not sure why, but he's pretty worried.”

Ainsley sighed; looking into the air as the end of his maroon beret slightly fell down his head. He looked alongside him to see the Private anxiously waiting for an order. “Dismissed” Ainsley whispered. “Only if I were that lucky…”

Bobzombie (post 1)
Marxson

00:27 - 21 October 2550 '''New Harmony, Gamma Centauri, Sector Two  Unknown Street Pastor Tyumen'''


 * Marxson took another long drink from his whisky "Report for a combat alert. BS. Grade A BS. Let the Yank take care of the whole bloody thing." he drawled to himself and took a swig before continuing his monologue . "Whole thing is a bloody joke. Won't be a ruddy invasion." something moved in the corner of his eye. "Oi! Leave me alone. I got my right to be here." A sudden intense pain shot through Colonel Marxson's body and that was all he knew.

Lt.Colonel Garcia

07:31 - 21 OCTOBER 2550

NEW HARMONY, GAMMA CENTAURI, SECTOR TWO

PASTOR RIFLES HEADQUARTERS GARRISON


 * Garcia smelled burnt flesh. He gripped his MA5K tightly. He jumped out from behind cover and fired at the approaching enemy. He slammed back on the wall. Plasma rounds impacted with intense heat right where he was. The Elites growled. Garcia looked up and saw the sword in it's hand glowing. And watched it enter his chest.


 * Then he woke up. There was no war. No more Elites trying to kill him. If anything was going to kill him it would be boredom. He swung his feet over the side of the bed and yawned. He stood up and used the bathroom.


 * After getting dressed he made breakfast. Standard eggs and bacon. Brits can't stop me from eating bacon. he thought. With all their customs and crap I don't see why they are even called UNSC Army.


 * His chatter beeped. A message. He looked at it. Marxson dead. Report to HQ ASAP.

Martin Jones

09:32 - 21 OCTOBER 2550

NEW HARMONY, GAMMA CENTAURI, SECTOR TWO

Greene Diner, Pastor, Tyumen


 * Martin bit into the pancake. Not bad for a Brit he thought. Not bad at all. He looked up at Mary Smith. His best friend. "Not bad eh?"


 * "Not bad. Not good. Back when I served with the 7th ODST I knew this one guy. Perez, amazing french toast." Mary smiled. "But this is the best we can get."


 * Martin stared at her for a moment. I've never been one for romance but... I think we might....God damn it! She's Army with me. Kind of against regs. I wish it wasn't I wish we could ma-


 * "You okay Martin?" Mary entered his thoughts."You look like you had one too many."


 * "Oh? Sorry. Just spaced I guess"


 * "Well we better get to command. Words up that we might have an excercise soon."


 * "Great, another excercise. What fun." Martin replied sarcasticly. "Better get goin' then"


 * Yeah. See you later Aaron."


 * "Yeah see you"

Garcia


 * Lt.Colonel Garcia waited outside of the war room in his uniform. Crisp and clean. All he knew was that the Colonel had been murdered sometime this morning. He had been drunker than satan on a bad day. Other than that nothing.


 * "Lt.Colonel Garcia?" the secretary spoke with a floaty english accent "Majors Casey, Callaghan and Fleet are waiting. CSM Faulkner as well."


 * "Thank you Warrant Officer, always a pleasure"


 * The secretary giggled. Garcia entered the war room followed by Majors Casey, Callaghan, and Fleet as well as the Sergeant Major CSM Hailey Faulkner. They were here to talk about the Colonel's death.


 * "Okay here is what happened. The Colonel was found dead in Pastor this morning. He was murdered. As you know Major Casey will assume the position of Second in Command. Callaghan have the 1st be ready for the ceremonies." Garcia inhaled before continuing "We have an excercise schedueled for the 23rd until the 31st. Standard excercise. Innie vs. us. I will obviously assume command of the Regiment. Any questions? No? Than you are dissmissed."

Subtank (post 1)
08:51 - 21 OCTOBER 2550 NEW HARMONY, GAMMA CENTAURI, SECTOR TWO KEISEN UNIVERSITY, SHOUJO CAMPUS, STUDENT LOUNGE


 * "First-based estimates put the total damages close to 14 trillion credits. Most of the infrastructures structures on Paris V destroyed were businesses, with only 15 percent being residential homes, mostly in Montparnasse..."

For two senior-year students, they have heard more than enough. The on-going Human-Covenant War reports on the morning news were staggeringly disturbing.


 * "Yet despite the massive destruction of this magnitude, casualties were remarkably low. Less than 117 deaths were civilians. The UNSC have the highest toll with a final total of 343 of their personnel killed in combat against the Covenant soldier. Many experts throughout the Montparnasse area and the Paris V agreed that damages..."

They packed their books and notebooks in their backpacks and left the lounge. They walked the open hallway toward the front of the university’s main student centre toward the food court. The young man placed a comforting arm around the shoulders of the woman besides him. She in turn placed her cheek on his shoulder.

"You know what, Cam?" Gray asked. "I just can’t believe they’ll be able to keep the Covenant away for good this time." He waved his free hand. "After all, the UNSC has been losing so many times that I find it hard to believe the Earth Government will able to really keep the colonies safe this time."

"I know what you mean, Gray," Cameron replied. "Yet we should always have hope that this time it is for good." Her lips curled into a scorn. Her thoughts sway away and began conjuring the unthinkable. Cameron thought of Corazon, currently serving in the Marine Corps over Manheim.

As Cameron and Gray strolled through the exit doors to venture outside to an overcast day, they couldn’t help but think of their friend and whether she would able to hold up against the storm - A storm that the couple knew from experience. "Least there is something Corazon can rely on, Cam," Gray said with a small grin as they walked along the path back to the dormitories.

Cam’s eyebrow quirked at him. "And what’s that?"

He turned his head to face her. "She has her friends there to support her. She has us."

Feeling her lips curved into small grin, the redhead cheerleader placed her arm around her beau’s waist and hugged him. "That she has, Gray . That she has."

With students, professors, and various people going about their business, just like any typical day at Keisen University, the couple headed toward the lecture halls.

CommanderTony (post 2)
11:00 - 21 OCTOBER 2550

NEW HARMONY, GAMMA CENTAURI, SECTOR TWO

MONASTIR-GREENWICH INTERSTELLAR SPACEPORT

Unlike other autumn days in the Monastir Metropolitan Area, today was quite beautiful and tranquil. Colonials were walking the streets calmly without the threat of impending rain clouds, and strolling along waterfronts watching the sealife come to greet them.

Assigned on an exchange program with the New Harmony Land Forces Command from their sister service, the Caprican Army, Lieutenant Simon Montgomery was excited to finally get off of his homeworld, if only for a single year. As the New Harmony Army hadn't seen any frontline combat in nearly 15 years, Montgomery preferred to be assigned with his fellow aristocracy in the Colonial General Staff, rather than being assigned to some backwoods rifle regiment. A resourceful man, the young Caprican officer quickly hitched a ride on a Falcon waiting on the spaceport's tarmac en-route to the capital, persuading the even younger pilot Sergeant to make a detour to CGS. Enlightened to see that New Harmony was an advanced metropolis colony that prided itself on upholding environmental balance, the sights and sounds of the colony reminded him of his homeworld, which felt and looked much the same as the one he just arrived on.

Noticing that Montgomery was falling asleep on the one hour flight from the spaceport to Monastir, Sergeant Llywellyn banked quickly to port and slammed the Lieutenant into the hardened polycarbonate doors. Admitting that he made a terrible mistake in letting an enlisted pilot fly him to command, the two men shared a long laugh together. Knowing that he'd do it again if having the chance, Montgomery opened the port-side hatch on the Falcon to witness the sprawling metropolis of Monastir. Considered a gem within the colonies, Monastir had beautiful glass-covered structures that filled the landscape for what seemed like a hundred kilometers. Likely assuming that he'd love to see some of the cities landmarks, SGT Llywellyn requested and received permission for an overflight of much of Monastir. Previously a scholar before beginning his officer training on Earth, Montgomery dreamed about coming to the beautiful historical buildings of the colonies, namely the Grand Commonwealth Opera House on the waterfront of Monastir, overlooking Millerand Bay.

Noticing that he'd only have 15 minutes to get to the Colonial General Staff, Montgomery ordered Llywellyn to "floor it" to his destination. He didn't realize that the Sergeant was extremely eager to please his demands and quickly descended to an altitude that would normally get him in trouble with flight command. Thankfully for the young Lieutenant, most of Monastir's architectural gems were clustered together, all within 10 blocks of each other.

"Alright, well...i'll set the new girl down right about here" sarcastically the Sergeant yelled into the intercom

Llywellyn, disregarding all flight regulations set forth by the United Nations Space Command and the Colonial Aviation Administration, landed right in the middle of a busy road directly in front of CGS. Waiting for the Lieutenant were two fellow junior officers that would escort him to his new commanding officer, though before walking a step towards the command building, Montgomery walked back to the shiny and glossy-finished Falcon, knocked on Llywellyn's cockpit and handed him a fresh, cold lager that was stuffed in his rucksack from the flight to New Harmony. Simply stating to him that he'll get back at him for smacking him into the side of the tiltrotor.

Lieutenant Montgomery then proceeded with the escorts to the building, and was pleased at the marvelous architecture that the builders imagined in the early years of the colonies. Inside, a grand myriad of stairs gutted what would be the first four stories of Caprican Command, with paintings of famous military leaders and battles mounted on nearly every wall space the art director could find a place for. Rather than being lackadaisical and taking the elevator off to the side of the main level with all of his heavy gear, he gave it all to a Private standing directly behind him that seemed to just hit puberty.

"Be a good kid and take my kit to my quarters, i'll forward the address to you...oh, and here's a lager for your troubles!" calmly and suavely Lieutenant Montgomery said to the 16-year old Private as he walked away.

"Trying to gain the hearts and minds of our populace, eh?" sarcastically Lieutenant Smith said into Montgomery's ear.

The three men began walking up about a million steps to his new commanding officer's office in the higher echelon's of the building and what saluting what seemed like a hundred Colonels, Lieutenant Montgomery and his escorts finally arrived at his destination. Knocking silently on his door after hearing the General in a conversation, Montgomery was ordered in.

"LIEUTENANT SIMON MONTGOMERY, CAPRICAN ARMY — REPORTING AS ORDERED, SIR!"

"No need for that son, I know who you are and why your here...and apparently it's changed, since you've opened up a mobile pub roaming around my city. (laughing)...welcome to New Harmony Lieutenant, i'm Major General Henry West — pleased to meet you!"

Nra 'Vadumee (post 1)
11:48 - 21 OCTOBER 2550

NEW HARMONY, GAMMA CENTAURI, SECTOR TWO

NEW REMMINGTON, MACTAVEN ESTATE, SHOOTING RANGE

BOOM!

"Bullseye."

Joseph MacTaven was out in his backyard, shooting targets with his 12 gauge. He considered it a "sports-only" gun, and had plenty of military-grade weapons to use if the need ever arose. He had just now managed to hit his humanoid target square in the chest... for the 10th time.

"Good lord, how many times are ya goin' to kill the poor guy?" His friend, Jacob, said sarcastically.

Jacob and Joseph were friends ever since thier brothers were in the military. Joseph's brother was a Master Sargent in the Rapid Reaction Fleet's infantry division, and Jacobs was off fighting the Covenant... one bridge at a time, since he was an engineer. While Jacob was an exceptional shot, Joseph hit his target almost every time. His other two friends, Ben and Justin, were also there, with an assault rifile and a pistol, respectivly.

"As many times as he lives, thats how many! Any way, I'm getting a little tired of shooting. Lets head in and check in with Emerson." Joseph said.

"Yeah, haven't talked to your older bro in a while. Wonder if he's been dispatched?" Jacob wondered.

"The Rapid Reaction Fleet? Yeah, probably a zombie outbreak or something on Earth. Haha!" Justin joked.

***

11:53 - 21 OCTOBER 2550

NEW HARMONY, GAMMA CENTAURI, SECTOR TWO

NEW REMMINGTON, MACTAVEN ESTATE, FAMILY ROOM

"Emerson! Whats up, bro!" Joseph exclaimed, as the holo-com fizzed into focus.

"Joseph! Jacob! Justin, Ben! Good to see you guys! Nothings going on here, just some drills, dust, and boredom. What about you guys?"

"Just got back from shooting. We all got good scores-"

"Good? You got a perfect score, dude!" Ben interuptted.

"Anyway, got any news from the fellows up top?" Joseph inquired.

"As a matter of fact, I do. My leave is tommorow, as long as the fleet doesn't need me, I've got a whole week to spend with you guys!"

"Are you freaking kidding me?! Thats great! New Remmington Spaceport, right?"

"Monastir-Greenwich, actually. I'll be bringing some guns for sport, and maybe a few treats..."

"All right, see you then, bro!"

Joseph disconnected, happy as can be.

12:11 - 21 OCTOBER 2550

RAPID REACTION FLEET, SOMEWHERE IN SECTOR 2

FRIGATE EXCALIBER, DORMITORY 322A

"Master Sargent, I need to speak to you." The Captain's voice rang out, muffled by the door.

"Come in..." Said Emerson as he opened the door.

"Listen, I understand your going on leave tommorow?"

"Yes sir..."

"To New Harmony, yes?"

"That is correct, sir..."

"Well, it just so happens that something's gone... wrong on New Harmony. We aren't sure exactly what, but-"

"You want me to see if I can't find out what it is, if its dangerous, and if the fleet should respond, correct, sir?"

"Yes. Don't let it interefere, but remember, it is-"

"For the sfety of the people of New Harmony, I understand, sir. I'll see what I can do."

"Alright then. And give your brother my regards."

"I will, sir."

"Have a good leave, Master Sargent. Goodbye."

"See ya around, captain."

The Leader (post 1)
07:07 - 21 OCTOBER 2550

NEW HARMONY, EXACT LOCATION UNKNOWN, INTEREGATION ROOM

A kidnapper dragged Command Sergent Major David Smith into the room. He was forced to sit down. Another kidnapper walked in.

"Do you know why you're here?" the second kidnapper asked as he walked in.

"Yeah. Cause you're rebels from some other system who goes arounds kidnapping UNSC Army soldiers" replied David, spiting them.

"Listen up! We know who you are. Tell us what we need to know and you'll go - understand?" the first kidnapper shouted at him, in his face. "Specialist Matilda Smith -"

David knew that these guys were seriously. Or were they lying. He couldn't risk it. He needed answers. Is she alright? Where is she?

"What have you done to her?" the Command Sergent Major demanded.

"Let's see - met while training her in the 1st Pastor Rifles. Went missing after out at the pub on the 19th of October" the first kidnapper told him. "Yeah we know everything about her and you - I'll kill her".

"Come on John - that's a bit harsh" the second kidnapper said.

"You're right - give her a slow death - and kill the kids".

"No! Not Johnathan and Lucy! Please!"

"Please John! Bring out the lie detector instead". David had a different idea. They were ONI agents.

"YOU'RE ONI!" he exclaimed.

"No - we're rebels. We're like the ONI but much worse in torture".

"Please - give him a chance". The second kidnapper didn't like his colleague. He always went over the top.

"Ok! I'll leave for a couple of minutes and tell him the truth" the second colleague told him, leaving the room.

"Ok! Listen up. This is your chance. When he comes back he'll shoot you for sure - he did it with the last target. Tell us everything".

"For the last time I have nothing to do with any project". After two minutes, the first kidnapper came back.

"He's sticking with his story" the second kidnapper told his colleague.

"He's innocent! When we took the picture earlier I sent it to the ONI - they said he's from this planet" the first kidnapper said. "So much for Good Cop/Bad Cop".

"AH HA!" Smith exclaimed, thinking he cracked it.

"Yeah! You should know - I'm Agent Roman Jackson, from Eridanus II and he's Agent Lloyd Robert - from here on New Harmony" the second kidnapper told him.

"You're here because we believe that you're involved in some project. We were sent here to help out ever since we lost contact with a scientist or something that we'll call The Doctor. You were some how involved with the ONI and we though -"

"You're right! On holiday on Harvest when the Covenant come. I end up with this ONI agent called Nick".

"And this Nick is one who sent us here - we thought he knew something. The bad news is that you're helping us now. The good news is - congrats, you've been promated to Second Lieutenant - you got your own platoon" Lloyd told him.

"Oh... the Platoon thing is good but helping -"

"We'll shoot you!" Roman told him.

"I'M IN!"

12:14 - 21 OCTOBER 2550

NEW HARMONY, VANCOUVER, OLD GEORGE PUB

Smith, Robert and Jackson sat down in the pub. The three, after that, were now true friends. It wasn't even a disguise. While Roman ordered some drinks, Lloyd ensured Smith that his family is safe but off world. Smith wasn't happy. In fact, he was angry. Not even that, he was furious.

"Where are they?" he asked.

"Safe" replied Lloyd. A woman came over. She was a blondish girl, carrying the drinks on a plate. To Jackson and Robert, she was just another civilian not to trust but David had different ideas. Very different. To him, she looked like one of the girls he met at training.

"I got your drinks" she said. Jackson and Robert took their wine, while David took his beer. David took one more look. For sure, she must be. Yeah. Yes, it was...

"Staff Sergent Vennesa Deary?" asked Smith. She sure did look like her. The woman looked back. She laughed. To correct that, she chuckled.

"No way! I'm Specialist Penny Deary. Venessa's my sister" she chuckled.

"Don't worry, you'll get someone you know soon" mocked Roman.

"Shut up!" David replied.

FightWithHonor (Post 1)
2130 Hours (EST) - 21 October 2550 NEW HARMONY, GAMMA CENTAURI, SECTOR TWO A small flat in Monastir

Ralph MacGregor’s back was acting up again. Arthritis, the doctors had said. MacGregor’s reply had been unprintable.

“Just another one of the bloody things about being old,” he muttered to himself, shuffling across the cheap carpet of his old flat. An Army pension could only met the most modest of tastes, and as a consequence, the room’s décor was simple.

MacGregor chafed. For years his life had been one of action, his every waking moment had been an active one. He’d been the figure the enlisted men hated, the soldier the NCOs admired, and the man the officers respected. As the Regimental Sergeant Major he’d been something, been someone; but now….Now, he was just another old man, alive enough to kick and scream and died hard; but never alive enough to beat off the cold fingers of old age.

All he had now were memories, clinging to a past existence as two-dimensional as the faded photos he so proudly displayed on the wall. That was all he had left now, memories…and the will to live.

No, the Scotsman wasn’t going anywhere yet…

 FightWithHonor  Contact me  04:42, May 9, 2010 (UTC)

Sgt.T.N.Biscuits (Post 2)
20:15 - 21 OCTOBER 2550 NEW HARMONY, GAMMA CENTAURI, SECTOR TWO ST. JAME'S PUB, WINSDOR STREET, HUNINGTON COUNTY

Randall Freemont brushed aside a pile of old dust on the wooden bar counter as his hand approached the small wine class the bartender had put out for him. He raised the class his to his battle-scarred face and began to consume the beverage when he caught the eye of a Scottish man looking to the side of him. Freemont ignored the man at first, proceeding to drink a portion of his wine once more. The Scotsman once again looked at Freemont, glancing at the decorations on his military dress uniform.

“Alt Burgundy is fine beverage, if you ask me,” the man remarked as he looked up at his glass of cheap whiskey and drank it until little more than few ice cubes remained in the glass.

Freemont looked up at the man, a confused and slightly irritated expression on his face.

The man continued to speak, "Back when I was serving with the Scot's Royal Borders in 25-"

Freemont interupted the man before he could finish, "Not to be rude mate, but you mind telling me who you are in the first place?"

The man turned to him and Freemont noticed that he too was wearing a military uniform. This man's however was shown far more medals and honors then that of his.

"Name's Ross Ainsley," he answered. "I'm Warrant Officer in the UNSC Army, serving as an exchange officer in this bloody hell-hole. Now, mind telling me what such a distigushed figure such as yourself is doing out here on New Harmony?"

Freemont laughed a little bit, took another drink of his wine, and looked at Ainsley, a smirk across his face.

"I was going to ask the same thing about you."

Ainsley also laughed a small amount, taking a sip from his glass of whiskey once more. The pub was nearly empty, save a few lower class workers from the nearby farm lands that had come to watch the soccer game on the holo-pad. The pub remained lightened up, the various signs and decorations allowing for an enjoying and comfortable setting. A setting that made the two Army officers a bit to liberal about their drinking.

Ainsley spoke once more, "Where's your assigment at?"

"The 331st, based somewhere out of Hunington."

"331st, eh? Looks like I'll be your new CO."

Bobzombie (Post 2)
21:43 - 21 OCTOBER 2550 NEW HARMONY, GAMMA CENTAURI, SECTOR TWO Pastor Rifle Morgue Garcia
 * Garcia glanced at Marxson's body. In all his years of service to the UNSC even against the covies, he had never seen something so....so....Disgusting. The body looked as if it had been attacked hand to hand. With claws. Almost like an animal, yet DNA tests confirmed it was Human. No ID yet.


 * Suddenly the door exploded. Several men in gas masks rushed in armed with MA5Ks and SMGs. Garcia, Casey, and Faulkner immediatley dropped to the floor. They drew their side arms and slammed against the door.


 * "Set your weapons on the floor!" yelled the apparent leader. "We just want Colonel Marxson's body. Nobody will get hurt." The three all looked at each other.


 * "Why the hell would we let you have Marxson's body?" asked Garcia. "Its not like we just let random dudes in gas masks have a Colonel's body." Garcia turned to Faulkner and Casey. "What?"


 * "We're ONI!" the leader yelled. "Want to see our badges?"


 * "Yeah! Show me your god damn badges!" a badge slid across the floor. Garcia picked it up. Sure enough there was the ONI pyramid. "Okay" Garcia called out as he holstered his side arm. "We're comn' out" Garcia and Casey stood up.


 * "We are ONI agents here to retrieve the Colonel's body. We cannot tell you why. That is classified." suddenly Faulkner fired at the agents. Blood sprayed onto the floor. SMG and MA5K fire combined with Garcia and Casey's side arms all hit Faulkner at once. Her body jerked with the impacts, it was thrashed left and right before hitting the floor. In a flash the Pastor Rifles had lost two of its best.

Jones 21:57 Pastor Hall, Pastor, Tyumen


 * "Alright!" roared the bands lead singer Garth. "Before I continue a few words for you boys. Thank you for buying our shirts, our hats, our god damn underwear! Because that shit's prices are so fuckin' jacked up it ain't funny! " The crowd roared with laughter. "Forty god damn creds...Damn...I'm sorry..But seriously now. I want to thank you men and women. For putting your lives on the fuckin' line for Jack, Andy, Mary and I. Because otherwise you might die of boredom!!!!!"


 * Martin was at the rockband, Clean's, concert in Pastor. His ears rang from the music. The band were a bunch of pro-UNSC former military or militia-men.


 * "Now I am going to let Andy say a few words" Garth said.


 * "Thank you, Garth!" Andy walked to the front. "I served with the military a few years back.....The Marine Corps Cadets!" Another thunderous ring og laughter. "Anyways, you know how bands get things like bras and panties thrown at them?" Cheers echoed. "Right!?! Well we don't get bras, or panties. We get some now and than if you know what I mean!" thunderous applause. "Thank you. No we get covers thrown at us. Soft covers." a miltary issue soft cover saored through the air and landed on the stage. A few laughs. "See!?! Well we don't know what to do with them! So we're given them back to you!!!!" He roared.The crowd roared back.


 * "And what's even better is that we signed 'em!" the crowd screamed. Andy brought out one such cover and kicked it into the screaming mass. "We don't want a fucking single one left!"


 * Martin Cheered with everyone else. "This one goes to you Preston Cole! Wherever in the hell you may be!" MArtin's ears began ringing and he slipped his arm around Mary Smith's waist.

(A few hors later)


 * " We are ODST!" Garth screamed. dun dun dun-dun dun! the music shook the building with it's steady beat. "We are ODST! Fighting for our families! Dying for humanity! Here we go! Bombs away!Here we go! Look out below! Here we go! Feet first! Here we go! Hit the ground! Here we go! Cock your rifle! Here we goooooooo!!!!!!!!!" the Music picked up going into a passionate guitar solo as the look on Andy's face looked extremely passionate. "Dropping into hell! This is it! Here we goooooo!!!!!!" the music faded and Martin drifted back into reality.

Sgt.johnson (Post 2)
1625 HOURS - 21 OCTOBER 2550 NEW HARMONY, GAMMA CENTAURI, SECTOR TWO HOTEL AMBASSADOR

Travis had made it back to the hotel suite sometime around 7:00, receiving a ride in a taxi after avoiding a potentially messy situation. When he made it back, he proceeded to pass out on a couch just inside the threshold, and would reawake at eleven to shower, eat breakfast, and get dressed.

The day was going well until his chatter began to beep, and the number belonged to someone he wish wouldn’t call him.

He pressed the “talk” button, and an image appeared on the chatter’s screen. It was Commander Baird, the spook.

“What do you need?”

“We need you and the others to come in. We have a situation?”

Immediately, Travis entered a combat mindset – they were only supposed to call him off of R&R when something serious had happened.

“What kind of situation?”

“I’ll brief you all when you get here. The others have been contacted and are on their way, so get here ASAP.”

“Roger that, sir.”

Travis hung up the chatter and began to walk towards the southwest portion of the city, where there was a not-so-top-secret ONI office complex.

When he arrived, Travis observed the pristine walls, tile, and windows of the building. To his front was a service desk, a lonely island stranded in a sea of cleanliness.

After scanning his common access card in order to pass through the turnstyles, Travis walked up to the desk.

On the other side of the counter was a young secretary, and her rank indicated that she was a Yeoman, 3rd Class.

She was cute, too.

Resisting his urge to flirt, Travis inquired as to the location of the Commander’s office, to which she asked to see his credentials, which he provided.

He was also immediately buzzed in.

After moving behind the desk to the sole elevator, Travis watched as she stood up and bent over to stretch her cramped legs.

She has a nice ass, he thought.

The All-knowing Sith'ari (Post 1)
23:50 - 21 OCTOBER 2550

NEW HARMONY, GAMMA CENTAURI, SECTOR TWO

Beneath ONI Monastir Field Office

It was nearing midnight by the time the ONI medical technician stepped out of the autopsy room and into the decontamination airlock. The police forensics team had already done an autopsy when the Colonel's murdered body had been found, and despite the animalistic injuries that had been inflicted on the man, they'd come to the conclusion that he had been beaten to death by an unarmed Human, one of tremendous strength. That had seemed unlikely, but it was the only explanation they could come up with. They had also come to the conclusion that Colonel Marxson had been able to fight back, or at least, land a token blow with his left hand: Congealed Human blood and skin (though the coroner admitted that it might be a foreign contaminant) on the fingers indicated that he'd tried to scratch his attacker, and in the cells of the residue was what the coroner had described as an "unidentifiable viral substance". It seemed perfectly harmless, but that revelation, together with the Colonel's brutal injuries that would be impossible for anyone who wasn't a SPARTAN to inflict, and the "incident" at the Andromeda Military Science Institute, had been enough to send alarm bells ringing at the Office of Naval Intelligence's Monastir Field Office, and a team had been sent round to the Pastor Rifles' garrison to recover the body as a biohazard. That mission had not passed without incident.

The medical technician stepped out of the sterilising airlock and stripped off his HAZMAT suit, throwing it into the chute that would take it down to the incinerator. Naked apart from his boxers and socks, he strode into the locker room and rapidly donned his grey navy uniform with the stripes that identified him as a Lieutenant Commander. He then strode into a lift that took him upstairs to the observation room where his superiors had been watching intently for over an hour. He stepped out of the lift into an expansive room, with three huge transparent aluminium windows on the left wall, looking down into the room where Marxson's body was being processed for disposal. Half-a-dozen men and women mingled in the room. They all turned to look at him.

"Well, Lieutenant Commander?" demanded one wearing Captain's stripes.

"I'm afraid it's inconclusive, sir. The Colonel certainly was attacked by something that possessed inhuman strength, and the foreign blood and skin on the body is Human, but contains traces of a DNA type we can't identify. For all we know the body was contaminated during the police's forensic analysis."

"So, it wasn't a Seoulnum infectee?"

"We can't rule out the possibility. If the DNA was from the virus, we'd have been able to identify it, though I will admit that it does seem more likely that an infectee is the culprit. The Colonel was attacked in his own home, so unless he was keeping pet tigers, it's the only thing that explains the animal-like injuries."

"In that case, we'll have to work on the assumption that the attacker was an infectee."

"Was it one of the "test subjects" from this mad house you've been running just up the road?!" snarled someone furiously. The Lieutenant Commander swallowed. The green-uniformed, imposing figure of Major General Henry West stood behind the Captain, and he looked ready to murder someone.

"That I cannot say, sir. From the human DNA, we can tell that the killer was a middle-aged male, but the Monastir Police is not exactly known for its dilligence, and even they've admitted that the body might have been contaminated, and in any case, since the test subjects' DNA samples were destroyed when we lost the Institute, we wouldn't be able pin down a definite identity if it was. Keep in mind, sir, we don't actually know if the murderer was an infectee."

"Sir," said the Captain, somewhat forcefully. "The valley is sealed off. Your mechanised infantry made sure of that."

"It was eight hours between the outbreak and when they arrived! Surely it's concievable that at least one was able to get out before the place was cordoned off?"

The Captain gulped and turned to the Lieutenant Commander. "Assuming the killer was an infectee, is it possible that Marxson was killed by someone who'd drunk in the virus after it entered the water supply?"

"We can't know for sure, sir, but yes, it's concievable."

"Jesus Christ," whispered West. He turned away and leaned on his palms on one of the windows, staring at his murdered officer. "You know," he said after a moment. "War is fought with weapons, not poisons. You men could very well be responsible for the death of an entire colony. You've already killed one of my soldiers, and you could be indirectly responsible for the death of an officer!"

"Sir, if you are referring to the incident in the morgue, your Sergeant clearly opened fire first!" snapped the Captain.

"Remember it well, Captain. She will be the herald of many thousands more."

The Captain swallowed. His career, and quite possibly his life, was over. "What will you be telling the Governor-General, sir?" he said carefully.

"Oh, I'm not going to tell him anything," said West, facing him with a terrifying glint in his eyes. "You are."

Bobzombie (Post 3)
2347 HOURS - 21 OCTOBER 2550 NEW HARMONY, GAMMA CENTAURI, SECTOR TWO Pastor Rifle Training Grounds

Jones


 * "Oh momma momma now can't you see!?!" roared the DI. And the Platoon repeated. "A-what the Army has a-done for me!" sweat poured off of Martin Jones' brow. Even in the sharp autumn air he was over heated. His legs throbbed from 45 minutes of running.


 * "Forward march!" barked the DI. The platoon began marching again. They breathed hard. After the concert Martin had been drunker than Marxson on a bad day. The running had sobered him up. At 2300 when MArtin was about to go to bed he had gotten the call telling all TPR elements to rally at the Drill fields.


 * "Corporal Jones! March them to the Brief Hall!" ordered the DI.


 * "Yes sergeant Balkovic!" Jones marched them into the Brief hall and took a seat on command.

Garcia


 * "Hello? This thing on?" Garcia spoke into the mic. "I'm Lt.Colonel Garcia as you all should know. At 0100 this morning Colonel Marxson was found dead."He was killed by an unkown attacker. And than this evening..." Garcia paused and he noticed a slight tremor in his hand. "This evening Sergeant Major Hailey Faulkner was killed in a friendly fire incident."


 * Or she fired at an ONI opeative. Why the hell did you shoot Hailey?


 * "Today the Pastor Rifles have lost some of its best. They were both courageous soldiers who were willing to lay down their lives for New Harmony. It is a tradgedy that they both were killed on the same day. They will be greatly missed by their friends and family. But most importantly by us. Their brothers and sisters."

Sgt.T.N.Biscuits (Post 3)
23:17 - 21 OCTOBER 2550

NEW HARMONY, GAMMA CENTAURI, SECTOR TWO

FIREBASE PHOENIX, ARMORY ROOM A72

Ross Ainsley grabbed the thick, round bar on the large shining steel door and pulled it open to reveal a sparkling and clean white closet containing dozens of weapons. Randall Freemont, with amazement in his eyes, looked at huge variety of UNSC weaponry that filled the room. Ainsley laughed a bit and took a drank from his bottle of whiskey.

"Welcome back to the show."

The consuming of alochol and the unnecessary use of the armory were both violations of rules in the facility, but Ross had simply assumed it was safe since the other personel had already left. Matter of fact, Ross would have gladly taken a discharge should he be granted one. It was better then being on this backwater colony. He took a second drink from his bottle and watched Mitchell as he looked over the weapons.

"Pretty impressive for a colonial gaurd, eh?" Ross mentioned. "Especially one that just flies sodding tiltrotors all day."

Freemont continued to look at the guns. It was indeed impressive, all sorts of weaponry layed on the wall. BR55's with customized optics, MA2B's with extended magazines and removable silencers, and even a magnetic plaque that held dozens of combat knives ready for use. Freemont grabbed an M45 Tactical Shotgun with a laser sight attached to railing. He looked at the sides and began to cock it. Ainsley grabbed it before he could do anything.

"Sorry, mate, but we aren't allowed to use that right now."

Freemont looked at glass of whiskey in the Warrant Officr's hands.

"We aren't to allowed to use that either," he said nodding towards the glass.

"That's besides the point," before he could finish the Regiment's colonel, Richard Scott, interrupted the two.

"Gentlemen, come with me. We may have a bit of a problem on our hands." *** "And to top that all off, the infection may have already reached Ministry." In the short amount of time they had ben in the Colonel's office, they had already learned far to much of the possible Infection. Altough it sounded like a joke at first, the two men had been convinced that problem was quite dangerous.

"I'm having Ainsley assigned to 331st Squadron. You'll be providing CASEVAC and close air support to the Pastor Rifles units in the city, but remember, our main goal is knocking out the power generator. The heat falls and so do the infected," the Colonel changed views so that he was now looking Randall in the eyes. "Freemont, you'll be assigned to the 333rd under the command of Theordore Ashcroft. You'll intial assignment will be around the city of Ministry. We need you destroying any trace of infected. We can't let those sodding bastards get off this planet. Men, do you understand your mission?"

They both responded in perfect order, and were on their ways in a matter of minutes.

The All-knowing Sith'ari (Post 2)
06:30 - 22 OCTOBER 2550

NEW HARMONY, GAMMA CENTAURI, SECTOR TWO

Pastor Rifle Training Grounds

In 1st Battalion, TPR's primary briefing room, Major Megan Callaghan greeted her Company Commanders and CSMs with a pained smile that was so unlike the shining, friendly grin she usually displayed at the start of briefings. Her usually impeccably-brushed auburn hair was tousled, which with her eyes betrayed the fact that she had been up most of the night trying to contemplate both what was about to happen and what had happened. Mind you, after Lieutenant Colonel Garcia's whole-regiment briefing last night, so had everyone else.

"Morning, guys," she said, still managing to project a sense of control and readiness in her voice.

"Good morning, ma'am," they chorused back.

"Alright, we all know why we're here, so let's get down to it." She pressed the touch screen on the holo-table in front of her. A topographical hologram of the area around the Andromeda Military Science Institute for fifteen klicks. Three towns were marked prominently; Pastor, Shepherd, and Ministry. "The situation is this: Two days ago, test subjects at this science centre managed to escape via unknown means. They'd been infected with some sort of virus that messes up the brain and memory, so it effectively turned them into zombies. It also increased their aggression, stamina, and strength, apparently significantly, since they were able to overrun a Company's-worth of fully armed Marines."

Some of the officers shuffled uncomfortably, while at the same time feverishly taking notes. Despite the jokes they might make about effette, incompetent Marines, they knew who were the better infantrymen. If they'd been overrun by the zombies...

"As Lieutenant Colonel Garcia told us last night," continued Callaghan. "The virus can be transmitted by bites, scratches, and drinking infected water. Fortunately, it's not airborne, otherwise I don't think we'd be having this conversation. At the moment, the "zombies", as I'm now going to call them, are being kept in the valley by the Gendarmes and mechanized infantry. That doesn't mean, however, that some didn't manage to escape. As we were told last night, Marxson may well have been killed by one of these things, so there could be one loose in Pastor."

Shock and fear clouded her audience's faces for a moment. The vast majority of the regiment had friends and family in Pastor, and in Shepherd and Ministry.

"To keep the disease contained, the regiment's orders are to deploy to these three towns around the centre, evacuate civilians, and destroy any zombies we find. The Headquarters Section and 4th Battalion will evacuate Pastor, 7th Battalion will evacuate Shepherd, and we, ladies and gentlemen, get the glorious task of evacuating Ministry. After we have done that, we will withdraw to the surrounding hills, and ensure that nothing leaves that town.

"This mission, despite its nature, is to be considered an offensive one. We may well be facing zombies, and if anyone gets scratched or bitten, it is highly likely that they will add to the enemy's numbers. In the absolute worst case scenario, we are looking at an offensive by a Company-sized unit of zombies that, though unarmoured, require multiple body shots to take down and will be equipped with modern weaponry, and can increase their numbers simply by biting or scratching a person. Make no mistake: If you see anyone come into physical contact with one of these things, even if they're a civilian, your best mate, or even me, do not hesistate to fire. The virus can take effect within seconds. At that point, they won't even recognise you; they'll be driven purely by rage and a need to further transmit the virus.

"Now then," she continued. "The battalion will be moving out on flat-bed trucks to Ministry, and a detachment of fifteen men from the Gendarmerie will come along with us in coaches they've requisitioned for civilian transport. As I've said, these things are very hard to kill, so this mission will be equipment-rich; armour, helmets, grenade launchers, sidearms; the full combat ensemble. Max-out on ammo and grenades; you'll need plenty of spare mags if we hit worst-case. We'll be in Marching Order, with full rations, cold-weather clothing, cold-weather sleeping bags, personal heaters, and full CamelBaks. H-hour is going to be 10:00 hours: I want everyone fully-loaded by H-minus one. The Airborne Guards will be on-station to provide close air support."

She tapped the holo-table again. The image zoomed in on Ministry. The town was situated in a shallow bowl-like depression, with a road leading to the north-east through a shallow valley up to the main road that connected Pastor to the science centre. The road snaked through the centre of the town, rising up over the hills to the south, before meandering down through the region to Monastir. Several buildings in the town were marked with yellow coronas.

"We will deploy on flat-bed trucks at 10:00, driving north-west towards Ministry, with the Gendarmes following behind in the coaches. When we arrive, we will dismount and our weapons platoons will form a perimeter on the hills around the town, designation Phase Line Alpha." A horseshoe-shaped yellow line appeared on the hills around the town. "Machine guns and GMGs will be up-front in this hedgerow, with mortars and UCAV operators behind on this open ground further up. The rest of the battalion will set up platoon harbours, leaving bergens behind and moving in in Combat Order. After that, the infantry will re-mount and head into Ministry. Once we have evacuated the town, this will be our fall-back position. We are authorised to call for indirect fire support within the town.

"The rest of the battalion will move into the town, and escort and load up the civilians into the coaches. On seeing any sign of infection, you are to open fire immediately. After we have cleared the town, Echo Company will move on to water treatment works here," She pointed at one of the yellow-marked buildings. "And destroy it with charges or artillery to prevent any contamination of the water supply by the virus while Charlie and Delta Companies provide security. Bravo and Alpha Companies, meanwhile, will move on to the power station here and destroy it to deny the zombies access to electricity, and so heated homes at night. They're stronger than us, but they can still die of hypothermia."

Many of them grimly nodded: In the late autumn months, nights would become bitter cold in New Harmony's central hemisphere with plunging temperatures going into minus figures. They knew this from experience: Two men had died from hypothermia in last year's winter exercise.

"After that objective is completed, we will collapse back to Phase Line Alpha on the trucks and prevent anything from leaving that town and moving south to the capital. We will remain their as long as necessary, though we can expect weekly re-supply. As for passwords, the challenge will be "Glastonbury"; the response is "Woodstock"."

Callaghan deactivated the holo-table, and cast a look over her Captains, Majors, and Company Sergeant Majors. "Any questions?"

"No, ma'am!" they chorused.

"That's what I like to hear! Shows how great I am at this!"

There was a rumble of laughter that was welcome in the gloomy, charged atmosphere.

"Very good," concluded Callaghan. "Get your men ready. Synchronize watches, ladies and gentlemen."

Nra 'Vadumee (Post 2)
06:35 22 OCTOBER 2550

NEW HARMONY, GAMMA CENTAURI, SECTOR TWO

MONASTIR GREENWICH SPACEPORT, MONASTIR

Unfortunatly, the infected individuals had spread further then the area the Pastor Rifiles were just briefed on'''. '''In fact, they moved south, in few numbers, managing Monastir. (If this is too fast, feel free to erase it)

"Where is he?" Jacob asked impatiently. He never had a thing for patience.

They entire gang spent the night at Joseph's. They brought all their guns, hoping to shoot some rounds down at thier favorite shooting range after picking up Emerson.

"I see him! Right there! Come on!" Joseph exclaimed. There he was, in his full uniform, full of pride and glory, with several bags on hand.

"Joseph! What's going on, little bro!" Emerson exclaimed.

"Not much! What's in the bags?"

"Every gun I was allowed to take, along with plenty of spare rounds."

"Your the best!"

"I know."

Suddenly, a scream was let out. "Ahhh! Help me! Somebody help meeeee..." They ran to the spot, a man had been bitten by some... thing, and was, as you know, infected by the Seoulnum virus.

"Hell!"

"Dear god..."

"Someone call 911!"

Before anyone moved, the zombie scratched, bit, and gored 4 more people, exponentially increasing the infection rate. At this point, They gang of 5 well armed individuals were faced by 6 zombies, and those 6 were growing into 12, 24... at that point, they had thier weapons locked and loaded, and were presently firing away at the zombie horde. They tossed some loaded guns to nearby civilians, essentially saving thier lives. In just 3 minutes form the initial infection, 50 zombies were dead, 30 were still moving, and 15 people were armed. The masses of civilians from the shuttle were prime targets,and they were either infected, dead, or just out right terrified in seconds. When the dust cleared, 25 people, mostly guards, were armed, somewhere around 150 zombies were dead, 80 clips were used, and 100 zombies were still moving. "Save ammo! Get to the nearest veichle and follow me!" Joseph exclaimed. The brothers were natural leaders, and often lead together. This was the most crtical time for the two; Emerson's position in the RRF had him away from combat, and Joseph never had to teeter lives of others before. They civvies hopped in cars, a good 5 or so per veichle, and were presently flying off towards New Remmington to stock up on weapons and ammo. Emerson dialed the Governor General, alerted him of the situation and then contacted the RRF, sending a simple, but critical, message:

"Get your asses over here there's zombies galore"

Another Poetic Spartan (Post 1)
06:32 - 22 OCTOBER 2550

NEW HARMONY, GAMMA CENTAURI, SECTOR TWO

Pastor Rifle Training Grounds

After Major Megan Callaghan had finished her briefing, she quickly left, with everyone following in suite. However, Captain Ashton Graves stood still in the room. His face was grim and his eyes seemed to be distant. One of his companions noticed Ashton not following them and he said, "Hey Ashton! Aren't you coming?"

Ashton heard him and slowly turned his head. "Yeah. I'm coming."

"We're gonna be in a hell of a fight," He thought.

He turned and grabbed his ruffled bag and was out the door. **** Ashton was in his quarters with his men. Each of them were preparing their supplies and weapons. Ashton was sitting in his old chair, a cigar in his mouth and several pistols in his lap and a long range rifle with a cleaning rag at his side. He looked at his men to see them preparing their preferred weapons. His men were all large with some notable exceptions, meaning him. But even with their gruffness and muscles, deep down inside, they were all softies. They all thought of each other as brothers and Ashton being the little one due to his small size. They all treated Ashton with respect, with him saving their each of their lives countless times.

"Hey Lockon." One of them asked.

"Yeah Rick?"

"You know what we're going to do?"

"Yeah. Can't tell you just yet. It's a surprise." Ashton replied.

"Just curious sir." The man said with a smile.

"I know. We all are." Ashton said with a wink. "Alright boys. Time get some shut eye. We have a big day tomorrow. Lights out."

"Yes sir!" They all said together.

Later that night, Ashton woke up. All he heard in his head were the screams of his men. Gunfire. And the sickening crunch of bone.

Bobzombie (Post 4)
1200 - 22 OCTOBER 2550

NEW HARMONY, GAMMA CENTAURI, SECTOR TWO

Ministry Downtown

Martin Jones/Garcia


 * "Lets move it! Go! go! Go! Get your asses off those trucks we got civvies out here!"


 * Garcia jumped down and hit the ground with a thump. He was in standard combat armor with tac-hud mounted on his helmet. His read out was screaming at him. Ministry was falling hard. Already pockets of idiots with guns were attacking anything that moved, including his men.


 * "Johnson get on the horn to command, tell them I want air strikes on every hospital in Ministry Shepard and Pastor. There are way too many infected in those areas. Also I want close air support ready to be delivered on a moments notice. And get some e-vac for those god damn civvies."