WARNING!! This story contains violence, harsh language, and gore. If this in any way offends you, please leave. You have been thoroughly warned. WARNING!! ~~~~~~~~ Z.O.D.I.A.C. (Zulu Oscar Delta India Alpha Charlie) Story of Shaun O'Brian By Jason Haley, a.k.a. Xendane -------------------------------------------------------- Prologue: My name is Shaun "November" O'Brian. I am the Z.O.D.I.A.C. warrior. They trained me to not feel pain. Trained me to not fear death. Even trained me to laugh at my enemies. Before they had fallen. Project "Z.O.D.I.A.C." was a test. A test to see what the limits of the human capabilities and endurance could reach out to be, and at the same time create the ultimate warrior. They said it was a "failure", a "sad day for scientific advance". I say it was a success. If that test had failed, would I be here? It was a live-fire test. I was placed in a room. They told me that I would be up against some of the best fighters they had. What can I say? It didn't go very well for them. The first charged at me and landed a poorly placed punch to my face, then again to my stomach over and over and over again. If you could see the shock in his eyes when he received my minuscule reaction... I took the fool by his hair and slammed him into the floor, then gave him a good head stomp to make sure he was knocked out. I caught the second one pulling a side arm from his waist, so I grabbed my buddy, flat-face, and introduced him to the many uses of a human shield as five shots pelted his torso. He was dead, and no amount of CPR would bring the b*stard back. The second one was stunned at how fast I could move, and went to fire again. Too bad for him that I was fast on my feet. To the left, and a bullet flew by me. I ducked as a second went over my head, and jumped as a third struck where my feet were seconds ago. I was close enough to see the whites of his eyes. He aimed for a pistol whip to my face, but I was a tad too quick for him. I ducked out of the way, grabbed his arm, and snapped it over my knee, forcing the gun out of his hand, then brought that same arm behind his back. I used my upper body strength to throw him over my shoulders and on his face on the floor. I grabbed his side arm and rammed the butt of it into the third guy's gut, causing him to keel over, which allowed me to swing around with an uppercut that sent him flying onto his ass. Before he could blink, I was on his chest, pinning him to the floor, and delivering a sharp chop to his face, pulverizing his skull and fracturing the spinal cord from the force. You can probably guess who won, right? Wrong. I never saw the fourth guy. I turned around, and he was right there, and damn it, he hit hard. One second, I was keeled over, clutching my wrenching gut, and then I see the guy's foot meet my face, sending me head over heels across the floor. I barely had time to get to my feet when he landed another flying kick in my face, sending me into the wall. I took the chance while I was looking unconscious to let the sucker get close... ...And then I pulled his knife from his belt and slashed his kidney with it. Granted, he didn't die immediately. It took about six or seven other shots to finally off him. All of which were face shots. I think I might have carved my name into his face when I was done. All I know is that he had his knife jammed in his eye. And there was blood leaking from all lacerations. His cold, lifeless flesh bag corpse dropped to the floor with a loud thud. What bones I hadn't sliced in two added weight to that big f*cking head. That sh*t deserved what he got, and so did his little sh*t buddies. Anybody I fight gets what they deserve. It's as simple as reloading a pistol. Just slam a fresh clip in the f*cker. The doctors were stupidly evaluating my already clearly successful performance. Nope. They wanted more. They sent me out in the "streets" of a "city" in a state of "warfare", which was really dummies supposed to be my guys, innocent people, and dead people. The real guys were people who needed killing. And damn it all, there were a lot of those *ssholes. They swarmed out from all sides, trying to encircle me, but they forgot something: I'm really good with guns. And I still had that pistol from before. As fast as they could say their names, I turned around and landed two metal f*ckers through the first b*stard's skull, blowing it apart and leaving a nice little splatter on the building behind him. Shots began being fired, but we were too close, so when I ducked, some idiot standing behind me got blown away by his own men. I quickly grabbed his gun and leapt behind cover, taking shots at whatever was stupid enough to move. I almost took all of them out. They weren't too bright. Then came Mr. Flamethrower. I ran from the cover just as it was engulfed by flames that could have melted your skin off your face. This guy could roast me alive just as quick as I could shoot him in the face. But a downside to fire was that it took a while to reach me, and that small amount of time it took to get me could leave me an opening to throw a sharp projectile through his neck. Just as I did now. I grabbed his flamethrower and busted out the troops on the first f*cker who forgot that fire plus skin equals barbecue. He fell into his buddy, who also caught fire. A fitting end for two morons, in my general opinion. The sickly sweet odor of burning flesh went through my nostrils and made me subconsciously smile, something that definitely scared the remaining troops. They all rushed me, thinking that they were tough sh*t. Heh. It's these guys I don't need equipment to kill. I dropped the flamethrower, and then casually took off my protective vest, leaving me in my white tank top, a tattoo exposed to the world: A black tiger's paw with максимальная боль inscribed across it. In case you're not good with languages, that says "Maximum Pain," something I deliver quite well to idiots who need a wake up call. And quite a wake up call it is. The moment their eyes saw my tattoo, faces paled. Running feet stopped in their tracks. Weapons were dropped. Distractions caused, and just long enough for me to deliver one of my favorite killing blows: a kick to the face, followed by me curling my leg around the guy's neck and choking him until he stops breathing and goes limp. The other two gathered their senses and ran at me with a renewed anger, subdued by me as I delivered a step kick that sent one flying into the other, taking both to the ground. As they struggled to their feet, I took their buddy's side arm and shot one in the face, the other in the neck. And then I got a round through my neck. Damn! Where had the sniper been?! Before I blacked out, I got a sight of my attacker: A blond haired kid, pure evil reflected in his eyes, his face totally blank of all other emotion. He didn't look very strong, but he didn't look like somebody I felt like messing with. And he had just shot me in the god damn neck. As I fell over, I heard his voice in my radio: "Well done. You've brought shame to those who made you." Even his voice dripped a poison so strong that I crippled under it. And that is how Project Z.O.D.I.A.C. "failed". ~~~~~~~~~ Fun Facts: 1. Shaun O'Brian was a character used in previous stories, such as Operation Valkyrie, when he was a tad wimpier, and Battle Vendetta, when he was a secondary character who eventually got killed by a stray bullet. 2. The "Blond haired kid" is Montgomery Brinks, an original character made by 9th Genesis, and used in stories such as Gold Storm, where he was a hired mercenary, and Apache, where he was a trained assassin. 3. The only reason I know what those words were in Russian is because I was born in Russia. Otherwise, I looked them up on Babelfish.yahoo.com 4. I had to look up a metric f*ckton of martial arts tricks before I could apply unarmed combat into this story. It was really hard. 5. Z.O.D.I.A.C. takes its name from the Phonetic Alphabet used in the military, and also from my other story, Z Company, which centers around Zodiac Company, and the main character, Major Grey Samuelson, a war hero from previous stories such as New Dawn, Red Morning, Operation Juggernaut, Operation Tango, Cossack, Serpent Sting, and Hell Breaking Loose. 6. Shaun O'Brian used to be Shaun Tanner, but I already had a character named Tanner Mink. ^_^;; 7. Montgomery Brinks takes his appearance from Corporal Jack Taylor of Operation Tango and Red Morning, and Jack Taylor takes his appearance from Staff Sergeant Troy Wills of Operation Valkyrie and Battle Vendetta. 8. I have written more stories than poems. This story is being written for your enjoyment, and nothing more. I do not wish to receive any critiques, ratings, or profile comments concerning how well the story is written. In fact, if I receive any of those, I will either try to find somebody to delete them, or do it myself. Thank you.
Yes...I read it, it's kinda crudely rough in fights and all...not that that's a bad thing. What was more interesting was the fact that a kid just shot him, it seems like a "U gotz owned buy a kaid!!!1!!11" Kinda thing xD. I'm guessing some people enjoy this much fighting and shooting. It is kinda not my cup of tea, but that doesn't mean it was bad. It is an interesting read, aside from my calm taste.
Hey, I write other stuff than this. It's just, violent stories with lots of foul play and bad language pretty much are my forte, mainly because, think about it, what do you hear about most often in the news? Violence, Foul play, and bad language, of course. Where I live, at least. And the reason it seemed so anticlimatic when Shaun got pwned by a blond haired kid with a sour attitude is because that kid is a mercenary/spy/assassin, so he's pretty good at sneaking around, and therefore had a perfect shot at the end. So, while I may not be thoroughly clear on how military combat works, I'm not completely oblivious either. Thanks for reading, and thanks also for not pissing me off by doing exactly OPPOSITE of what the note at the bottom said. That would've just ruined my day...
Alright, Xen, I've edited chapter one for you. And, like you asked, I'm going to put it up for you, to save you the hassle of having to double-post. This chapter contains explicit content, such as violence, abusive behavior, gore, and foul language. You have been thoroughly warned. Also: Jason Haley takes part in this fictional story, and many others, because he wanted to see reader's reactions when the author's name appeared in-story. This is not a true story, but Jason is indeed a Marine Captain, for future reference. 1. Well, you can probably guess this part fairly easily. They took my "corpse" and dumped it out with the trash, believing me dead, like the f*ckin' morons they are. For seven full hours, I lay there, in a heap of what I found to be mold meat loaf and sour milk, blood spilling out on a broken tray with dried pig grease on it, thinking to myself the many ways I would get revenge on that brat who shot me. What can I say? After years of failures in the military, this one wouldn't fly with me. I wonder what Captain Haley would have said about me? Probably something like, "You were one short of a tough guy status", being the logical f*ck he is. Just because he has a special little ability in his eye that allows him to see weak points... God, I would kill for that right about now. It stinks to high hell in this damn dump vessel, and I feel the need to hit a weak point in this ship, break it open, and get the hell out. By "dump vessel," I'm talking about T-SST 00987 Waste Transport Alpha. They're big, slow, and have a sh*t load of space. You could house a whole damn brigade of soldiers in these things. They're robot-operated, so as to save the pilots for the important stuff. Dumping cr*p on a random waste planet was about as important as slapping your boss in that monkey suit with the Tweedy Bird tie and telling his fat, balding *ss to kiss off. In other words, it was a useless task that only took away from the potential to be had by anybody forced to carry it out. ...Though it would be fun to b*tch-slap the boss in the Tweedy Bird tie and the monkey suit. Another thing about T-SST 00987s other than them being slow was that they had eight waste dumping chutes. And I just so happened to be in the chute that opened right about... hmm... now. With a loud groan and the hiss of hydraulics, the chute opened, slowly dumping all the trash out(including me). Trying to hold on to the edge, I was swept away as a piece of scrap metal caught my leg and dragged me down. You wouldn't believe what a drop it is from a waste vessel to the ground below. At that height, it probably should have killed me, but it didn't, considering that something(hard) cushioned my ass when I hit the ground. It took me a while to regain my bearings and set off again, but when I did, I shot a ferocious glare back at the piece of sh*t that dumped me here on this waste planet... I believe it's Planet Zelpha, where Captain Haley had his first experience of war(and nearly died after getting surrounded. I don't remember who it was that saved him, though, I had already ran my ass back to the pod). Either way, I don't think that enough blood was shed for this planet to be safe for people to dump their sh*t. I just know there's more of those bug freaks lurking around somewhere. Oddly enough, none of them decided to sperm-shoot that dump vessel out of the sky(Little known fact for you: Planet Zelpha's inhabitants use their sperm cells as a form of long-range reproduction and as a form of Anti-Aerial Assault battery. They shoot it out into space, where it may or may not hit some passing Fleet Armada and send everything into a chaotic mess from hell). Not my problem at the moment. I saw that there was a weapon in the mess that I was dropped in with. It looked to be a Jump Trooper's Photon Un-creator. Yeah, I know it's an incorrectly spelled name, but it apparently sounded too geeky to the big boys with the big toys(Jump Troopers) to say Photon Deconstructor or Ion Phaser or something like that. But I can see why, this thing is too god damn heavy to have a geeky name. It looks about capable to tear the living cr*p out of you, should you get hit with it, because of its two gigantic crescent blades on the front, and the Cerberus triple-barrels on top of those. You have to hold it like a minigun, because if you try to hold it like a rifle, you'd break your arms. It's hard enough for the Jump Troopers to fire its high velocity ion-charged photon laser without flying off their feet(and that, kiddies, is why they have to wear such heavy armor), and they nearly lose their forearms when they use their jump paks(another incorrect word, yes, but it doesn't matter) to cross dangerous terrain. For me? I can barely pick the damn thing up. It should be an experience indeed to fire one of these puppies. So, I set off, my rifle on my back(don't know why they didn't take it when they dumped me), P.U.C. in my hands(P.U.C. = Photon Un-Creator), and my sights firmly set on an odd city-shaped object in the distance. Is it possible that there's life here on (waste)planet Zelpha? In my mind, whoever lives here has to be some ex-Jump Trooper, or maybe a marooned Armada Sniper, otherwise, why the hell would they be here? ------------- Montgomery Brinks watched the whole thing following O'Brian's defeat by his hands. He saw O'Brian's body get dumped into a waste disposal vessel uncaringly by his fellow mobile infantrymen. He saw the vessel take off ever-so-slowly into the dark abyss of space. He even saw a piece of said vessel chip off and fall into the ocean below. This was the "ritual burial" of training zone "Typherious - X", noted by many to be the most brutal training grounds, and any survivors were walking tanks for the rest of their lives. Brinks was rather glad he had chosen the more... feral form... of training, out in the heavily-wooded and frozen areas of the northern St. Binah, where he was forced to, while wearing no armor and carrying no weapons, slaughter a wild beast and bring it back to his trainers to complete the initiation process. They tattooed what he had killed on his arm - a wolf head. Montgomery Brinks had faced down a rabid wolf about his size, twice his speed, and three times his strength, with no protection whatsoever, and no weapons to defend himself. And he had won, the only cost being an almost-fatal bite that nearly hit the carotid artery, where he would have surely died. He, himself was surprised that he managed to evade getting rabies. It was always difficult for him to explain how brutal the fight had been. He especially disliked having to fight any form of animal, friendly or otherwise. It went against his code of honor, and it only made one look like a fool, especially in front of trained killers who have seen worse. What had happened went like this: The wolf lunged, got thrown on its back, and proceeded to have its face pummeled by a wild Montgomery Brinks, wearing no shirt, pants or shoes, carrying no weapons, and showing no signs of fear... or any other emotion. Montgomery had felt its infected blood dripping down his shoulders and chest as he carried the dead beast, in a fireman's carry, all the twelve miles back to his training camp, where he proceeded to throw the corpse in the fire and let it be cremated. It was the least he could do for a beast that had suffered such a terrifying disease. "There," he had said, venomously, to his trainers, "I've completed your damn test. Now, train me, or I'll throw you in the fire." It was hard to say no to a threat like that. And so, Montgomery Brinks, son of former spy Jeremiah Brinks and mercenary Katarina Brinks, adopted by world's most deadly man, Terra "Brinks", who was an impostor to the Brinks family name, became a mercenary. And when he did, he swore revenge on Terra Brinks, the man who had killed his father, sister and mother so ruthlessly, and with little more than an unimpressed look on his face. Montgomery had only been ten years old on that day, when Terra "The Assassin" Brinks, former St. Binah Black Ops., walked into his family's house and shot down his sister, then proceeded to take out his father, then his mother, while little Montgomery watched in fear, hiding behind a nearby chair. He could still remember Terra's words as the gun was leveled at him next: "Come with me, boy. Maybe, there's something you're useful for, other than hiding like a little pathetic coward that I should just blow to sh*t now." Brinks shook his head. There was no time for memories. He set off, back up the worn trail that led to Typherious - X. ~~~~~~~~~ End of Chapter 1. Fun Facts: 1. Montgomery Brinks' initiation into Mercenary Training is almost like a Spartan's initiation into manhood, if you've ever seen "300", you'd know what I'm talking about. 2. Jason got the idea of waste disposal planets and space crafts from that really old movie, SOLDIER. 3. Jump Troopers are vaguely reminiscent of Zone Troopers from "Command And Conquer: Tiberium Wars". 4. Jason enjoys using movies as reference points for important plot details or areas. Planet Zelpha is like Planet P from "Starship Troopers". 5. Jason mentions himself in this chapter, but nobody else in his squad, save for O'Brian, is ever heard from in the entire story. 6. Ironically, Jason was the leader of "Zodiac Squad", where he got the idea for several of his stories, comedic or otherwise. 7. Many of Jason's stories are written about warfare because he reads WAY TOO MUCH Tom Clancy and plays too many war games. If we had doped him up on children's books and games like Boom Blox, we'd see stories about talking flowers and bumblebees wearing top hats. Aren't you glad he plays too many war games? 8. Jason takes describing weaponry to the extreme. If he has to, he'll look up weapons and gather all the information about them before making a weapon of his own, so that he'll have a reference as to what said weapon should do. He forgot, however, to mention that the Photon Un-Creator is like a Gauss Cannon, in a sense, as it shoots one supercharged round of lasers before chambering another round in a split second. 9. Marooned Armada Snipers come from a story I wrote where a band of former Naval snipers turn into terrorists and begin wrecking hell on all the major staging areas during a massive war, all the while hoping that the war ends soon so that their leader can just stop his craziness, because their operations were put into play to try and end the war. In this case, however, Marooned Armada Snipers refers to mutinous snipers being dropped unceremoniously on the nearest abandoned planet the Armada can find. 10. Jason has me post chapters of his story a lot, especially when his computer crashes, as it has unfortunately done today. XD This story is being written for your enjoyment, and nothing more. We do not wish to receive any critiques, comments, or profile posts containing information regarding how good the story is being written. If you send us any of these, we will delete them or find somebody else to delete them. You have been thoroughly warned.
So after this post...I can't post anything? Not even my little input on the story?Or any thoughs or anything at all...? The fact that the says "the story is written for your enjoyment" Who's enjoyment, exactly? After all almost no one comes to check stories more than once or twice, unless the story involves them in any way. Sad, but true. That's why I don't post stories unless I want critique. Btw....sperm missiles....that's kinda....weird in a funny and creative kind of way. And the narrative through the eyes of such a.....interesting character is pretty cool, too. That was all. And now I guess there will be no more posts, aside from the story?
No no no, you misunderstood. You can still post replies talking about your favorite parts and what you found interesting, it's just, this wasn't meant for any critiques or compliments or anything else to make our egos go one direction or another. I should have explained that more, sorry. (Yeah, sperm missiles. Yet another reference to Starship Troopers.) (And if you think these guys are "interesting" now, wait till the story gets further in...)
Ah, my computer's up and going again. Spasibo, Emmet, for keeping the chapters moving. WARNING!!! This chapter contains explicit content such as violence and foul language. If this in any way offends you, please leave. You have been thoroughly warned. 3. I'll admit, it wasn't easy getting to that little neighborhood in the distance. I took one step, and from out of nowhere came this huge f*ckin' windstorm that nearly blew me away, had I not set my feet and slammed the P.U.C.'s blades into the ground. Thank god they made this gun so heavy. As I went to get back up, I saw an oddly shadowed shape cross my vision. It wasn't a shadow, really, it was more of a hooded person with a rifle. Said person stopped in front of me and leveled their rifle right on my nose(but I like my nose!), then started screaming questions at me that I couldn't motherf*ckin' understand, since this guy was from Alciudad, and I didn't speak the Alciudad language(Little history lesson for you kiddies: Alciudad was a citadel under control of a megalomaniacal monarchy who wanted to control the rest of the world, and figured he could achieve this by putting reactors in the ground, taking energy from the earth itself, and using it in the form of an advanced super military. It didn't turn out all that well, and some rebel factions tried to stop him from forcing innocent Alciudad citizens to become soldiers, so a huge operation led by Sgt. Jason Matroya, now Master Chief Petty Officer Jason Matroya, was set in action to try and destroy the reactors and kill the monarchy in charge. It didn't go too well, and Alciudad suffered the wrath of a misfire that set off a bomb inside the active reactor, destroying the citadel and whoever was unfortunate enough to not get away. Matroya has yet to live this horrible memory down, and I doubt he will let it go, since he made a promise to keep that incident in his memory by tattooing it, and every other war accomplishment, on his arm. He now has to use his left arm, since his right arm's got too many accomplishments on it). And obviously, smarty pants with the rifle didn't know that. He just kept screaming away, thinking if he screamed at me enough, he might get an answer. I was about two seconds from blasting this guy to pieces, when a Jump Trooper stepped up next to me and responded, in the Altitude language, which was enough to make rifle guy stop screaming, lower his gun, and leave. Thank god for small favors. I have my entire "list of things to give thanks to on Thanksgiving" made by now. The trooper with the white-blond hair who ran off the rifle dude turned to me with a smug grin on her face. Her? Yes, I said her. What, you didn't think there were female Jump Troopers? Well, there are, they're a part of a special section in the Jump Troopers known as Commandos. It seems that more often than not, female Jump Troopers become Commandos, given how kick-ass they can be in combat. Guys can be Commandos too, but they don't seem to get that to become a Commando, you have to be almost a ninja in combat. Female Jump Troopers are given lighter equipment, since they can make awesome use of the fact that they can bend in a thousand ways that men couldn't ever dream of doing without hurting themselves, and they tend to have powerful, but very light, guns that have the same effect as the P.U.C., but in a more concentrated blast that hurts more. Female Jump Troopers can also self-heal themselves, a neat little ability that them scientific types embedded into the minds of all specialists, which included Female Jump Troopers and Commandos. They're Specialists because of the fact that there aren't a whole lot of them, something that kinda' disappoints me, I would like to see a girl get some spotlight on the radio for some awesome military thing they did. But, back to reality. "Don't mind that guy, he's one of our guards," she said, surprisingly not-as-tough-sounding as I thought Jump Troopers were. Guess I need to do more studying. "...'Our?' " I asked, bewildered. "Yeah, we have our own little community here on Zelpha. Ever since we eradicated all the enemies roaming around, we've been living a rather peaceful life, the only thing bad about it are the windstorms and shortage of weapons. There's still a few of those bugs running around, so we need guns to protect ourselves. I see that won't be a problem for you," she replied, looking both at my rifle(a standard-issue Dragoon-A3 Assault Rifle, with four settings and a Grenade launcher attachment) and P.U.C. I shrugged. It was hard to do with the P.U.C. "I just got dumped here by a trash dumper and found these things lying around." That was a fat-ass lie. I already had the rifle. "You too, huh?" came Ms. Trooper's reply. "Oh yeah, I forgot, a lot of you guys probably got marooned here," I said, careful with my words, trying not to get my ass killed. "Yep. It's funny, I thought Jump Troopers were an important unit, but I guess the Fleet's willing to throw us away," she said with a bitterness edging off her voice. "Same here. I was part of Project Z.O.D.I.A.C." Y'know? I forgot how awkward it is for everything to turn silent as soon as you say something. Before anything else could be said, I saw another windstorm heading our way. I quickly grabbed the Jump Trooper and pulled her behind a stalagmite, myself jumping behind another one right next to it. As soon as those winds hit, I could hear the rocks cracking. Twenty seconds later, it was over. I got to my feet and hefted my P.U.C. back into my hands. "Hold it!" Yeah, I saw this one coming. I turned around to see that Ms. Trooper wasn't in the least happy. At all. Bad news for me, I guess? "Project Z.O.D.I.A.C., what is that?" she demanded, never once taking a step towards me. "Project Z.O.D.I.A.C., a special experiment meant to push the limits of human strength, speed, intelligence, and endurance. To date, there have only been three successes. I was one of many 'failures', where I got hit by a sniper that I never saw. Successes never take a hit. Technological advances at Typherious - X allowed doctors to implant a special device in the heads of all experiments, such as myself, to induce self-healing, as seen in Commandos and female Jump Troopers, such as yourself. This experimental training ground is supposedly the most brutal, and also the most confidential, to the point where not even the highest authority can look into it. It's hidden behind line after line of codes complicated enough to impossibility. Anybody who had ever heard of it never lived to tell the tale if they were found out. There is no way to break into Typherious - X, because of seven levels of security, each one advancing in difficulty. Level Seven clearance is needed to get to the Project Z.O.D.I.A.C. training grounds, and even then, you might not get in." She sighed heavily. "So, in other words, you don't even know where exactly you had been trained?" "Of course not, I was kidnapped from my squad and forced into this," I replied. It was the truth. Shaking her head, Ms. Trooper said, "Alright, I trust you. C'mon, there's gonna' be another storm soon, we need to hurry." And hurry we did. ------------- "You've done well, Montgomery," said the holograph of General Roy Merrif. Montgomery gazed at said holograph with as much emotion as a block of ice and replied, "You said I would be paid for my services. I did my part, I helped you cross-train your little Zodiac troops. Now, you hold up your end of the deal." Merrif nodded, then motioned for one of the guards to approach the table. With a gloved hand, he slapped a thick wad of green into Montgomery's open hand. After counting it, he asked, "Is this all?" "As much as we promised you," Merrif replied. "Good. Now, the next time you call me, it had better be something more serious than training," Brinks said, getting up from his chair. "Yes, I understand. But, Montgomery?" Brinks turned around. "I really must ask; why did you accept our offer?" "That is none of your business," Brinks replied. "Then, I assume this conversation is ov-" Merrif never got to finish his sentence, as Montgomery shot and destroyed the module that generated the holograph. "Yes, it is," he said. He turned and walked out the door, shoving one of the guards out of his way as he went. He didn't bother asking why Merrif was so concerned with why he accepted the offer and who he worked for; those questions inevitably answered themselves, and Montgomery had no intention of giving away Major Realstone in such an ungrateful manner. ~~~~~~~~~~~~ Fun Facts: 1. The windstorms on Zelpha refer to the windstorms on Arcadia in the movie SOLDIER. 2. Commandos are a type of unit seen in Command and Conquer: Tiberium War 3. Roy Merrif was, himself, an experiment, and used to work for a local police force before his android self decided to go for bigger bait. He is also one of R3c0Nzi13's OC(Original Character)s 4. Jason Matroya is one of my OCs. He shows up in a lot of my stories with the rank of Master Chief Petty Officer, and he also seems to have obtained Shields similar to The Halo Series. 5. Alciudad is a city that I made up and was unfortunately destroyed. It is now often used in my stories as a battle zone or a historical landmark. 6. Project Z.O.D.I.A.C. is kind of like Red vs. Blue's Freelancers in a sense. 7. Typherious - X is located around the ruins of Alciudad, for future reference. 8. Major James Realstone appeared in stories such as Mercenary Brinks, Operation Genocide, Battle Vendetta, Operation Valkyrie, Red Morning, Operation Juggernaut, and New Dawn. He was Samuelson's best friend through most of the Grey Samuelson saga, and was a computer whiz in the Battle Vendetta saga and the Operation Valkyrie saga. 9. Holographs were a reference taken from many a sci-fi show or video game, such as The Halo series and Star Wars. 10. The Fleet is a reference to the Fleet Armada from Starship Troopers. 11. Shaun remembers being kidnapped, which happened at the end of Operation Valkyrie, where he was mugged by masked soldiers. 12. Not a whole lot of cussing or violence in this chapter, since I'm saving for the best part of the story(or worst part, to those non-violent types). This story is being written for your enjoyment. You may post what you like about it so far, and what you find interesting, but please note that I still do not wish to receive any critiques or compliments or PM/Profile comments regarding how well the story's being written. Thank you.