COMPLETED: California Dreaming

[Drew Buddy]

Adams casts a distrustful glance at Jeng, before picking up the chip.

Making certain to not turn his back to him, he presses the chip into the slot on the workstation.

[GM Nick]

"Somebody in Ishimura burdened by their conscience contacted California and warned them about the chemical agent. Using the limited intel that they had, the CalGuard cobbled together a strike team to nip it in the bud. Of course, when dealing with the possibility of exposure to a chemical agent, they'd need a medical doctor on the team..."

[Drew Buddy]

Adams frowns, but remains silent, listening to Jeng's story as one might watch a trid of their own car crash.

[GM Nick]

A corridor of crumbling concrete and ree-bar appears on the monitor, shaking as the source of the recording moves rapidly through it. The footage is very erratic. It takes a moment before Doc realizes that it's a recording from a cyber-eye. Gradually, the scenery becomes increasingly familiar. Then it hits him--it's the Fountainhead apartments. The owner of the cyber-eye maneuvers deftly through a narrow space between buildings, then leans forward.

Doc's blood freezes in his veins.

The owner of the cyber-eye is looking over a railing, directly down at Doc and his two subordinates. Flashes of urban imagery blur past as the Japanese recon soldier scrambles down the side of a pulverized staircase. Suddenly, the video is an exact replica of the one Doc watched not 24 hours earlier.

"His name is Kaneda Hattori. He was one of the Japanese soldiers tasked with escorting the Ishimura weapons scientists. Fountainhead apartments was ground zero for the testing."

[GM Nick]

Doc watches himself order a secure perimeter.

He watches Jameson and Davis strike out on their patrol, unaware of the enemy soldier in hiding, less than 20 meters away.

Doc's eyes narrow as the young Doc cranes his neck. And, he remembers. Remembers hearing a sound, remembers tensing his body.

"You didn't shoot your men," says Jeng. "Kaneda Hattori did."

[GM Nick]

Though it cuts him to his core, Doc watches his men get cut down. He imagines, with vivid clarity, himself off-camera, performing a melee maneuver to obtain Kaneda's rifle. Doc's snarling, tear-streaked face appears for a brief moment before the butt of that rifle catches Kaneda in his face--temporarily disabling the image recorder.

[John]

Max stands over Jeng, imposing his presence on the small Japanese man with tremendous aplomb. Inwardly, he comments on how intimidating it would be if their eight-foot troll weren't invisible, and how effective that image would be.

[Drew Buddy]

Adams' fingernails dig into his palms. Jeng's usefulness at uncovering the past being the only thing keeping the man alive.

"So why the act? Was the extradition just a case of Ishimura getting rid of a few loose ends?"

[GM Nick]

The footage rematerializes, showing a shaking depiction of the Fountainhead apartments. Hattori is running.

"Hattori escaped and returned to his unit. He served out the rest of his deployment without incident. Ishimura eventually came to claim this footage and erased the rest of his data storage. It wasn't possible to remove the fail-safe without killing him, and at this point he had already defected under the terms of the armistice. He was an unwilling accomplice. Killing him would have generated too many questions."

"The Japanese government, having somewhat repaired relations with California, is fulfilling their end of an agreement to investigate war crimes on either end. Ishimura is, understandably, disconcerted by this fact. They've gone through all of the video evidence documenting the effects of the compound, and are--as you put it--wrapping up loose ends. You were a pretty big loose end. Your mission was scrubbed after a few high-ranking officials figured out what was going on and questioned the ethics of sending infantry in to address a possible chemical attack."

[GM Nick]

"Your mission was unsealed for investigation. Setting up a frame was only a simple matter of editing some footage."

[John]

Max cracks his knuckles menacingly over the man, and looks to Doc for any signal that it's time to close Jeng's account.

[Drew Buddy]

Doc grabs the front of Jeng's shirt, and pushes him on the rolling chair into the desk.

"Okay, drekbag, that leaves two questions. How do I get my memory back, and what is your role in all of this? Why is an SI agent helping Ishimura cover its tracks?"

[GM Nick]

Jeng manages a shrug, despite Doc mashing him into the seat.

"It may come back tomorrow, it may never come back. It all depends on your brain's ability to repair neural pathways. As for why I did what I did, what do you think? Ishimura promised a juicy payout, and there was a guaranteed promotion in it for me. Catching a war criminal? Imagine what that does to one's pay-grade."

[Drew Buddy]

Adams plucks the data chip from the workstation, and pockets it. Rage seethes through him, but he keeps his voice calm and level.

"The last time I was in this country, I shot a commanding officer in the leg over what I perceived as an injustice. I've always regretted that decision."

He pauses and turns to Max, "do you mind holding him down?" He asks.

He turns back to Jeng, "you see, that same officer got a goddamn medal for his troubles, and went on to rack up an additional 200 civilian casualties to his record. Looking back, I should have just killed him."

[GM Nick]

"I've read and re-read your records. I know what kind of man you are. You won't kill me."

[John]

Max's grimace hangs so heavily on his face that it seems to the team that it might remain there forever. Smacking his lips once, the elf grumbles "Drek, will you ever shut the frag up?" He moves swiftly to Jeng and grabs him by his shirt with both hands, acrobatically hoisting him in the air and slamming him face down onto the desk. The whole motion is as fluid and brutal as its result is cacophonous.

[Drew Buddy]

Adams' stare is emotionless and pitiless, his voice even more so.

"If you knew anything about me, Jeng, then you wouldn't have targeted me in the first place. I've got to say, all in all this was a terrible career move on your part," he says, opening his medical bag. He pulls out a scalpel and places his other hand on the back of Jeng's neck, slowly tracing his index finger down the man's spine, and wordlessly counting the bumps. Finally he arrives at a number that appears to be acceptable, and taps it as if marking it for later reference. He turns the scalpel over in his hand, inspecting the edge.

"Things have changed, Jeng, I've changed since those reports were last written up. It's a damn shame you didn't do your homework, all of this could have been avoided."

He places the scalpel point-down in between two of the vertebrae in Jeng's neck, and after only the faintest hesitation, jams it downward, the blade neatly slipping between the bones. Jeng stiffens, and then goes limp, his breathing becoming ragged. Doc motions to Max to release his hold, before grabbing Jeng's shoulder and turning him over, letting him fall to the floor. He crouches over the limp man and looks down at him.

"Let me explain what's happening, Jeng. I've just severed the nerves above your C5 vertebra. These not only control movement, but also breathing. The only reason you still draw breath is because your diaphragm is still contracting through--let's call it--sheer force of habit. This won't last. Over the next few minutes your breath will gradually become shallower and shallower, until it stops altogether. Do you understand?"

He stands back up, towering over Jeng, his right hand covered in blood and still holding the scalpel. Spots of blood splash on the floor as they drip off the point of the scalpel.

"You did this to yourself. If it wasn't me, then it would be someone else, someone who's life you intended to destroy for a quick payday. You see, if you knew me, you'd know that I couldn't let you continue doing what you were doing. You're a disease, Jeng, and I couldn't allow you continue to fester."

He lets the scalpel slip from his hands and steps away from the man.

"I think we're done here."

[GM Nick]

Doc feels light as he walks back to the Hound. He barely registers his surroundings and the pats and vocal affirmations of his teammates. With each step through the enclave, he regains more and more memory of the lost weeks during the war for California. He remembers the proposition of a special mission, the skirmish with Japanese forward recon forces, and the grueling debriefing session that followed. He remembers explaining, with a strained voice, how he had lost two men in an ambush. It's a surreal feeling, to be able to remember when exactly he began to forget the entire experience.

And he's exhausted. Despite the aching in his muscles and the fatigue in his spirit, Doc also feels a sort of grim determination borne from his supremacy over those who sought to victimize him. His past may have an irreversible hold on him, but it doesn't need to define him. It certainly no longer has to control him.

[John]

As the team settles into the Hound, the silence that has fallen over them reaches critical mass. A typical mission for the FRSR boys is generally followed by heavy thoughts that give way to the sort of joking that allows hard men to deal with hard emotions. Every time the team strikes out to protect one of its own, however, it's different. Max reflects a moment on the night these men helped him rescue his daughter from the clutches of a gang of sex slaver trolls. He had entered that night a broken man, ended it a shattered man, and arisen from it the following day stronger and more complete than he had been in years. So, too, might Doc, with any luck.

Doc sits in the pilot seat of the hound, his eyes weary and the bags under them heavy. Max sits, as he often does, riding shotgun. Trolls and orks and men shift and grunt and sigh behind them; the team is settling in for a flight that is longer than anybody wishes it to be. Max looks out of his periphery at the team's medic and de facto pilot. It's hard to qualify just what each member of FRSR is to the whole, but if Max is the face of the group, Miles Adams is almost certainly its heart. Or soul. Or whatever. 'Val the brain... Sinjin the fists...' The elf ventures a glance over his shoulder toward the rear of the chopper, looks at the rest of the team, takes special note of the rare corporeal glimpse of the magic wielder in the back, and finishes the thought with a light, albeit internal jab, 'and Tyros the ego. Heh.' Max turns again to face front with a slight smirk on his face at his own inner monologue and takes a cigarette from his pack. "Anybody else do with a smoke? Got two left," he calls out to anybody listening. Most probably aren't.

The zippo sings open, strikes, and sets aflame another five minute step on the road to ruin. 'I'll catch that one special bullet well before these things take me out...' Exhaling slowly and letting the smoke rise around his nose and eyes, Max leans his head back as the rotors whirl up to speed. Overstreet finally turns his head to look directly at Doc, and asks, "Yo, amigo. You gonna be okay?"

[Drew Buddy]

Adams stares wearily out of the cockpit windshield as the lights of the California coast shrink on the horizon. The day has been longer than any he's experienced in quite some time, and the newly uncovered memories of a series of grueling weeks only add to the crushing weight. He resists the urge to let the chopper's pilot computer take over, and knock himself out with the supplies in his pack. Gotta process this, he thinks.

"Yeah, I'm good," he replies. "No, not really. Having a chunk of your memory taken away, and then punched back in after your mind has closed the hole... Not sure what to make of it. It's like getting back a limb you never knew you had, everything gets thrown off balance."

The collective control stick twitches in his hand with each chop of the rotor blades. His eyes narrow.

"As for Jeng, he got what he deserved. I'm not losing any sleep over him."

[Conway]

(( Well done, gentlemen. ))