[Rated M, 16+] Contractors: Acknowledgment Zer0 | Co-hosted by Lvl 19 Hollow

[Alaina]

Holding to the cover, Echo had been awaiting the advance of the guards to get ready to bring them down when it would prove convenient to him. However, as he was checking to see their movements, movements around the otherside of the floor became apparent to him. Sticking closer to the wall, and not revealing himself to the other supposed contractor, Echo waited. And he waited for that contractor to make their move. But, he heard nothing, save for the sound of more bodies falling to the ground. That was certainly, different. Placing his hand to the wall, there was quite clearly less guards out and about, and the girl he had seen earlier was most definitely over there. Not really understanding what was going on at the moment, Echo decided it was best to stay out of the girl's sight, as what she did seemed to be a far more terrifying unknown than what any of these guards were capable of. 

 

As he bid his time, though, there was something else he didn't expect. A sound coming from the elevator, the civilian one, had rung throughout the halls. And with that arrival, came far more gunfire then what he was hearing before from the girl. Echo had been neglecting practically every other floor except this one and the twentieth, and since the action started, his perception of the place had narrowed to simply this floor. As such, he completely neglected the possibility of another contractor being in the immediate area, and had thus not tried to prepare himself for such. Thankfully, though, the man seemed to be on the side with the girl, and even more thankfully hadn't taken notice to him yet. 

 

However, the last remaining guard had seemed to remember where the first hail of bullets had come from. Completely caught off guard by the first of the grenades, Echo was struck with a blinding light and a ringing in his ears, unable to hear anything. Hm. So this is what it felt like. While completely disoriented in both vision and hearing, Echo stuck his hand against the wall, using his tremor sense to see if there was anything else approaching. There was no person that fit this criteria, but there was something small and somewhat spherical also coming in his general direction. Realizing just what it was, the male assassin quickly threw himself away from the direction of the ball, gaining his hearing back just in time to hear a somewhat distorted and muffled bang. Shaking his head, he was able to see once more, albeit with multicolored spots littering his view, and saw a charred and somewhat destroyed area to where he was standing. Backing off and taking cover to hide from the others, Echo figured the other two would be able to handle the guard and simply let them at it, waiting for the optimal chance to secure the VIP. 

[Super Chaos Sonic]

This was somewhat embarrassing to Aero, who was just finishing popping his shoulder back into place. Upside, he probably had the upper hand in completing the mission with him having a key card. Not only this, he was able keep causalities to a minimum...mainly the civilians. The guards? Psh, that was another story. Mainly due to the fact that he really didn't kill either guard...that was the other Contractor...whiiiiiiich led him to his downsides of this: the competition. So far he dealt with a Contractor that specialized in gas of the poison variety and a Contractor with a blade...speaking of the blade.

 

"Damn...that was my favorite zipline." Aero sighed, seeing the cut off rope. Nevertheless, he could get more. This just proved that he needed to bring more on missions as a backup. Still, at least he made it to the fifth floor. Now...he just needed to make it further...

 

Aero moved slightly, crouching on the ledge, before gripping onto the ledge and dropping slightly. If he couldn't get down by use of the zipline...he'd get to the lobby the old fashion way: parkour. With this, he did his best to descend by use of the building's outside walls. They had big enough slots to grab a hold of so he could climb down. Further and further he descended...fourth...third...second...

 

-BGM-

 

Finally he dropped onto the ledge of one of the high lobby windows and he stopped suddenly. Aero exhaled quietly as he activated his Sniper Vision, seeing the varied colors in the room. Alright...I'm seeing two figures in pure red. Their on high alert...possibly frightened. One is holding up in the freight elevator...the other... he thought, moving his gaze towards where the guard was heading. There he saw someone in green. He's after the that one in green...possibly another Contractor. Hmm...and on the other side, two other greens...and one of them is the same bastard who... He exhaled again, shaking his head. Aero was letting his emotions get the better of him...not now...there was a mission.

 

Aero slowly grabbed Angel, his sniper rifle and began to load it with the incendiary rounds. He moved back slightly, feeling the wind for a moment. There was no great overbearing breeze or anything. Perfect...now...line up with my crosshairs... Aero thought, sighting in the sniper rifle's scope. Once it was sighted, Aero exhaled slowly, before pulling the trigger. Adiéu...

 

Suddenly, the rounds were shot off. The first bullet found itself lodged into the guard's right leg. Aero could hear the cries of agony and pain that came with it. His right leg started to slowly catch on fire. But he wasn't done. A second bullet found itself in the guard's left shoulder, beginning to slowly burn. Two more shots were fired: one in his left leg and one in his right arm. By this point, the guard was already on the ground, writhing in agony from both the bullet wounds and the incendiary ammo.

 

Burn in hell...

[LordCowCowCowCowCowCowCowCow]

Oh. Oh my. Mute stared at the man who had come in suddenly. This one. Was it...it had to be, she just could feel it. This was The One! She felt a giddiness well up inside her. "Oh my gosh oh my gosh I hope I look alright, ooooh fighting that guard probably totally messed up my haaaair." she thought, worried. But, he didn't mention it. Like a gentleman he only told her to get out of there. How SWEET.

But she couldn't do that of course, she had a mission to do after all. So instead she waited for him to pass her and followed him, silencing her steps but staying right behind him.

So. Very. Close.

 

She could almost feel him with how close she was standing, and it was glorious. She was more excited than even when she stabbed that other man in the neck. And so there was only one logical step to take here. She took out both her pistol, reloaded it, then took her knife in the other hand. With the knife she stabbed the potential man of her dreams, after all if he was The One he should be able to handle this, in the side. Deactivating her silencing field she muttered to him. "I-I'm sorry sir but I really need to do my job, I'm sure you understand..."

 

After saying this she stepped out from behind him, gripping the knife in her left hand still and twisting it if the man made a move towards her, aiming the pistol at what appeared to be the boss of the group. Firing a few shots she spoke above the gunfire. "You have something I want mister." She said sweetly. "I would like if you handed him over now."

[Ren✧]

Eliza was beginning to feel like she was spending this entire mission in the confines of the stairwell. Even vaulting from one floor to the next took her far longer to get to the bottom floor than she would have liked. Knees aching and trying to keep from looking winded, Eliza reached for the access door to the ground floor. As soon as her hand touched the handle a brilliant flash illuminated the small window carved into the door, causing her to stumble backwards, hitting her head on the stairs she had just come down. "Son of a jabroni." She cursed, disoriented. Blinking rapidly, she searched for the pistol that had fell from her grasp.

 

As her vision returned to her, she looked out to the lobby and saw all manner of Hell breaking loose. Slumped bodies of civilians laying bloodied on the ground, guards being picked off left and right, a mangled corpse being desecrated as a meat shield, and one guard being cooked up like a holiday roast. However as eye-catching as all of this may have been, she only had eyes for the playfully young girl confidently advancing through the thick of things.

 

Stepping out from the safety of the stairwell, Eliza tried to draw as little attention as possible. Slinking along the edges of the wall and from one ruined lobby furniture piece to another she got as close she could to the girl and the two men she was advancing on.

 

Eliza watched as she slid a knife into one of them and held a gun to the other.  "You have something I want mister. I would like if you handed him over now."

 

Eliza readied her own pistol, shockingly aware of how flimsy the bench she was ducking behind. It was the only cover near her though. Taking a deep breath, she fired at the young girl's feet, mimicking the sound of the gunshot several times, hoping that would be enough to force a retreat. "You forgot to say please." Eliza said her voice dripping with honey as she flashed a toothy grin at the girl's expense.

[Hälō]

As John continued his advance across the lobby, bullets danced off of the reinforced corps of Hugo. Exhaling lightly, the man swiftly fed another clip into his pistol before firing off yet another shot towards his target. Though something was a miss... why didn't that last bullet make a sou-

 

"s***..." Griever mutter as a sharp wave of pain traveled up his spine. Having been stabbed in the back more than his fair share of times, John hastily analyzed his predicament whilst doing his best to continuing holding up his human shield.  "I-I'm sorry sir but I really need to do my job, I'm sure you understand..." A soft, feminine voice muttered to him, causing the man's eyes to narrow. The girl form earlier. She had somehow managed to pierce his kevlar, meaning that she was a contractor...

 

Gritting his teeth as she twisted the knife and stepped out from behind him, John sighed. "I understand that I should have shot you in that pretty little face of yours." His voice was frighteningly calm, despite his situation. 

 

 

 "You have something I want mister. I would like if you handed him over now."

 

"You forgot to say please." 

 

A new player made their entrance. Seeing an opportunity in the gunfire, John weakened the blade of the girl's knife whilst it was still inside of him. "Catch!" He roared from the pain as he violently pivoted his body to move away from his tiny captor, shattering the weapon and hurling Hugo's corps towards her in a single motion. Using his free hand to grab hold of his wound, Griever swiftly moved to a nearby pillar, before aiming Margret at the young girl. 

 

His dead gaze glaring intently at the other contractor, Griever moved his finger over the trigger. "Bang." He said cooly as he prepared to fire. 

[Dad]

Julian West Financial Associates

1st Floor

3:40 p.m.

 

With his only remaining guards dead--extremely dead, at that, the smell of one of their burning corpses still stuffing the air--Julian was now extremely vulnerable.  He would need help getting out of here alive.  Luckily for him, the freaks were about to kill each other off.  But before he could react and snatch up his prisoner for protection, a flurry of shots were fired directly at him.  Instead of reaching out to grab a hostage, he instead instinctively fell forwards in a clumsy attempt to keep his head.  The shots barely whizzed past his head, but the dive caused him to lose control of his weapon.  The large man desperately scrambled forwards for his gun, but all hell was breaking loose.  He ducked back behind the corner furthest from the lobby nearest the freight elevator and stairwell, just feet away from a new enemy.

 

Another one of the Contractors arrived on the lobby floor, mimicking the little girl who had just tried to kill him.  He hollered over the gunfire, desperate to end the chaos and even perhaps make a few friends.  "You don't have to do this!" he called.  "I don't know who's payin' you!  I don't give a sheet!  But I make a lot of money!  I can double--nah--triple whatever you're gettin'!  Just drop your weapons, and we'll all get outta this alive!  You can--sheet!" he cried out as grenades went off nearby.

 

"You're gonna kill the kid and the old man!  You really wanna do that!?" he called to no one in particular.  With no answer, he frantically searched for an answer to his shitty situation.  He looked all over the elevator, searched his pockets, but he was clueless.  He was trapped, with no help to call upo--wait.  The freight elevator phone.  It's a hardline.  He could call outside.  It was directly above his head!

He reached up, and frantically began dialing a phone number amidst the chaos.

 

Meanwhile, outside, Catcall, Griever, Mute, Aero, and Echo were about to tear each other apart, while their target looked on, as calm and unbothered as any normal human could possibly be in this situation.  But then, he wasn't normal at all, was he?

 

Looking on he examined the five of them one by one.  Despite having reached out to them, he had no other option than this to really see what they were capable of.  Dislocating his own wrist and slipping out of his bindings, he freed himself from his restraints.  "Griever.  Bold.  Thinks on his feet.  Brash.  A bit of an ass," he thought examining the one who had just been stabbed.

 

"Mute.  Young and naive come to mind.  Her own prerogatives make her dangerous.  And gullible.  But she's also quite possibly the most dangerous.  And she doesn't even know it."  He was carefully examining Mute in his head, but of course, she only reminded him of someone else.  Not the time for that.

 

His eyes darted to the boy who had hit the deck.  "Echo.  Similar talents to the female.  He's just not as talented.  He's intelligent. Quick witted.  Blends in well."

 

There were. . .two others?  Standing up straight, his eyes met Catcall's.  Strange.  They were missing one.  Must've been killed quite early.  What a shame.  This one was also female.  "Catcall.  Possibly the strongest of them.  Though she probably couldn't get through the hardass as easy as she thinks.  Very resourceful.  Her resilience is impressive."

 

The sneaky Aero hid behind her outside of the building, perched carefully out of range of the others.  "Aero.  Hell of a shot.  Good for recon.  Could probably use him.  That means the chemist is dead," he thought, shaking his head.  Turning around, he noticed Griever removing the blade from himself, and turning his gun on Mute.

 

"Idiots," he thought to himself, sighing.  Finally, he cleared his throat, just before John could fire, and called out to his own man.  "HANS!" he barked, loudly over the gunfire.  In a fraction of a second, he blazed through the entrance of the lobby, and stood beside the one who called upon him.

 

"Mr. Pulaski," he said slowly.  Dressed in a three piece suit and bowtie, Hans appeared, his pale skin, bald head, and white mustache closely resembling his handler.  If Pulaski removed his glasses, you would be hard pressed to tell them apart.  

 

Pulaski nodded, as Hans already knew what he needed to do.  Before John's bullets could leave his gun, Hans had already knocked him unconscious.  He moved over to Mute, pinching a nerve behind both of her ears, and putting her to sleep.  Catcall was next.  And before she could blink, she felt herself powerless, unable to prevent her consciousness from slipping.  

 

Now, Echo.  He was already on the ground.  Knocking him out took little effort.  And Aero.  Hans reached through the glass and shattered it, snatching Aero and putting him to sleep as well.

 

Dragging their bodies to Pulaski's feet, Hans left the Contractors in the rear of the building.  But before they could leave, there was one bit of unfinished business.

 

"Get your asses over here now!  I called for you almost an hour ago!  You bastards had better--hello!?  HELLO!?" Julian screamed, not realizing the gunfire had stopped.  He looked up, seeing the line disconnected, and a man in a three piece suit and white gloves standing over him.  "What the--unh!"  A quick punch to the jaw and Hans left Julian in the freight elevator unconscious.  He pressed a button, and sent the elevator back down to the basement level.

 

Returning to Pulaski's side, Hans waited patiently for his next order, his hands behind his back.

 

"Did you complete your analysis sir?" he asked slowly, respectfully

 

Pulaski shook his head.  "Not quite.  I didn't expect much, regardless.  But they have a lot of work to do.  Trained or not, they're still amateurs.  But I think I've at least figured out who I can put in charge of this little band of misfits," he said looking down to his feet at one of the Contractors.

 

"Will you put them through more training, sir?" Hans asked.

 

"Unfortunately, we don't have time for that.  They'll have to learn as they go."  Pulaski gave the Contractors a once over, once more.  "Take them.  We need to go before the Crocs arrive.  And you can imagine they'll be none to happy when they wake up," he chuckled.

 

Hans reached for a radio in his ear, and spoke.  "You may approach," he said into the ear piece.

 

Storming into the building, a squad of five armed men fitted with full military gear swarmed the building.  They stood before Pulaski, saluting him.  "Sir!" one of them spoke.  "Glad you're alright."

 

Pulaski raised an eyebrow.  "You really think I'd be done in by the Crocs?" he said finally dropping his American accent.  

 

"No sir."

 

Pulaski scoffed.  "Take them.  Get back to HQ on the double."

 

"Sir!" said the squadron leader.  He and each of his men took a single Contractor, and darted outside with their bodies.  

 

Pulaski turned back to Hans.  "You take the chopper mate?"

 

Hans turned to Pulaski.  "No, sir.  Shall I escort you myself?"  

 

Pulaski shook his head.  "No.  Last time I got sick. I'll ride with them.  See you shortly.  And have the doctors prepare for a small operation.  One of 'em is wounded."

 

"Yes, sir."  In an instant, Hans was gone.  Pulaski calmly walked out of the Financial building, a Cargobob waiting outside for him.  "Room for one more boys?" he said casually strolling past his men and onto the chopper.  "Let's go, let's go.  Get 'em on board.  We got company," he said nodding towards the sound of screeching tires coming down the street.  

 

Hustling the last of the Contractors on board, he rear of the Chopper sealed itself, as Pulaski found a seat.  The sounds of small arms fire ricocheting off of the chopper indicated that it was time for liftoff.

 

"What're ya waitin' for, ya bloody idiot!?  Get us the hell outta here!" Pulaski bellowed to the pilot.

 

"Yes, sir!"  In seconds, they were in the air, preparing to leave Chicago airspace.  

 

---

 

Kansas City, Missouri

4:20 p.m.

Concealed Mass Corporations

 

They had been escorted underground, still unconscious.  John was rushed to surgery with Doctor Nelson and Nurse Jaimeson, but he was kept below ground and operated on just down the hall from the Situation Room.

 

The other Contractors were dropped into the Situation Room, sat up right in chairs, as Pulaski followed behind his team.  They were still sleeping, but not for much longer.  "Thanks boys.  You're dismissed.  Stay on call, ya?" Pulaski said as the five men in military gear left the Situation Room, and Hans entered it.  

 

The room was dull, with grey tile, an elongated mahogany wooden table, and eight black leather office chairs.  The walls were decorated with newspaper articles of the United States' successes and failures.  All of them credited to the political leaders of the country of course.  The occasional freak accident was also reported on the walls of the Situation Room, most of them having occurred outside of the U.S.  The walls were unfortunately more covered in negative news than positive news.  And with his own division being out of commission for the last few months, Pulaski couldn't help but feel nostalgia as he stood in the Situation Room.

 

Pulling down the projection screen for the projector, Hans flicked off the lights to assist Pulaski.  Hans closed the door to the Situation Room, as he awaited the Director's instructions.  "Load Contractor List and give me a side by side of Mission Blind Faith." Pulaski said to no one in particular.  A projector on the ceiling flickered to life, before rapidly flipping through millions of images, and settling upon one list of one hundred men and women, and displaying it on the left side of the projection screen.  On the right side, a slideshow settled, paused at the first slide waiting to be played.

 

"Hans.  Send a debrief file to Griever's room.  He probably won't be out in time for this."

 

Hans nodded.  "Yes, sir," he said excusing himself from the Situation Room, and closing the door behind him.  A red flood light above the door that Hans exited signaled that a meeting was in progress, softly illuminating the "Situation Room" labeling that was just below it in a wooden plaque.  

 

Inside, Pulaski slammed his hands onto the wooden table, as he stood before the other Contractors at the front of the room, beside the projection screen.

 

"WAKE UP YA DAMN FOOLS!!" he ordered, their bodies jolting at the sudden sound, each of the Contractors opening their eyes with a start.

 

As the confused and likely agitated Contractors turned their eyes on their enemies, and then towards Pulaski, a sly grin crossed the older man's face, as he straightened his cuff links, and peered into their eyes.

 

"My name is Director Pulaski.  And welcome.  To Concealed Mass."

 

[spoiler=Notes]

Take this time to talk among yourselves, ask questions, and talk a little bit about what just happened to your characters.  We'll be moving very quickly soon.  A list of rooms in Headquarters will be drafted and placed in the OOC for reference.

 

[Super Chaos Sonic]

Aero grinned at his handy work against the one guard, seeing him lit up light a Thanksgiving Day turkey. However, the mission wasn't done...not yet. He loaded his next rounds and began to put his sights in on one of the Contractors, specifically the one he had dealt with earlier... The crosshairs were slowly lining up and he was about to pull the trigger, when...

 

"HANS!"

 

He saw that the voice came from the old man, the very person they were trying to go for. And without missing a beat, in waltzed in this a man in a three piece suit met him. What the...? he thought, confused as he watched what unfolded with these two men.

 

The next thing he knew, this old man was moving almost as fast as Aero could blink. First he took out Griever...then Mute...then Catcall...finally Echo. The sniper hid somewhat, exhaling slightly but slowly. What on earth is going on? The mission report didn't say anything about th- Aero thought, only to be swiftly grabbed through the window by this "Hans" and was knocked out.

 

The last thing Aero saw and could feel, was his body being drug off. He could hear the two men talking, but what they said he couldn't make out a single word. If that wasn't bad enough, something loud was basically blaring and keeping him from hearing everything...finally...the sniper slipped unconscious.

 

-4:20 PM-

 

-BGM-

 

"WAKE UP YA DAMN FOOLS!!"

 

Aero's eyes shot open, shaking his head as his eyes adjusted to his new surroundings, that and to try and stop feeling like he was hit by a brick truck. Before him was the man he was contracted to get...but right now he was smiling. He shook his head a bit to wake up, as his hair started falling over his eyes. ...wait...his hair? Aero's eyes widened as he noticed then that his mask that he wore was removed. Apparently while he was knocked out...this man or whoever was working for him, removed his mask.

 

Perfect...fan-f*ckin-tastic.... he thought, sighing slightly.

 

"My name is Director Pulaski.  And welcome.  To Concealed Mass."

 

Aero looked up at this so called "director", turning his head to see the other Contractors he saw earlier, save Griever. It was quiet between them all, so naturally...someone had to break the ice. And that someone just so happened to be Aero...

 

"So, you were the 'target' of that mission we were sent on." Aero spoke. "And if I might be so bold to ask...why did Mr. West have you under lock and key?" He spoke with a sternness, but even with that, he seemed respectful.

[Hälō]

BMG

 

Thump thump thump. The rapid beating stirred him from his slumber. 

 

Thump thump thump thump thump. The drum persisted forcing him to open his senses. Where was it coming from? "Can't a man die in peace..." John groaned as a light began to brighten up his vision as he searched for the source of the drum. He could her voices now. Two males one female...

 

Forcing himself in an even more alert stage of consciousness, Griever groaned in annoyance as he realized exactly what the irritating beating was."Guess not." His heart. Apparently he hadn't been killed in that lobby...

 

"Doctor, I've managed to remove the entirety of the foreign object from his side." One of the male voices spoke in a urgent manner directly above him. "There doesn't appear to be any major internal bleeding, and the stitches appear to be holding we- HOLY s***!"

 

Suddenly aware of the lofty pain in his side, Griever sprung into action. Shooting his eyes open, John grabbed the masked man who hovered above him by the throat before violently yanking him down whilst simultaneously bringing his own head upwards in a savage head but. A new wave of pain shot through John's body, but he was ready to use it to force himself to activate his ability to weaken whatever they had propped him up on.  

 

Without warning, the bed that Griever was being treated on collapsed from his weight, sending both bodies tumbling to the ground. Hastily surveying his surroundings, the wounded contractor noted the position of the two other figures in the room before rolling to his left and grabbing a sharp piece of metal from what was left of his bed. "Nobody move." He spoke in a low serious tone as he peered up at a the doctor and nurse whilst moving the sharp piece of metal towards his associate's throat; pulling the smaller man in close to his body so that he could serve as a human shield if necessary. "Well start with something easy... Where am I?"

 

 

 

"So, you were the 'target' of that mission we were sent on. And if I might be so bold to ask...why did Mr. West have you under lock and key?" The young sniper was the first to speak up. Though before anyone could utter a word, the door to the situation room swung open to reveal Hans, followed closely by a shirtless man with a slew of bandages wrapped around his bare abdomen.  

 

"Sir... It seems Griever will be joining us after all..." Hans bowed apologetically before glancing outside. "Doctor Nelson would also like a word when you're done here."

 

"Shouldn't that be obvious, kid?" John called over to the boy in the green suit. Even without his mask, Griever could tell it was him by his voice. So he had managed to survive the fall, huh? 

 

His own suit hung heavily around his shoulders in taters, and as Griever's dead gaze shifted across all of the faces in the room, he found himself sighing. "It was set up." Just as the words escaped his lips, a sharp wave of pain shot up from his side. Not one to show weakness, Griever casually brought his right hand up to reveal the bottle of whisky that he had borrowed from the mini fridge he passed as he made his way down the hall from the infirmary. Bringing the bottle up to his mouth and taking a quick gulp to ease his pain, John turned to Pulaski. 

 

"They told me you're the one running this circus..." As he spoke his suit shifted slightly reveal his holstered weapon.  "I'm not one for small talk. So why don't we just get to why you've gone to all this trouble to land five killers in the same room." 

[Dad]

Situation Room

Concealed Mass Underground Headquarters

4:35 p.m.

 

As he expected, they didn't look pleased.  That was good.  It meant that they already disliked him.  Things were starting off right.  One of the younger ones was the first to speak up.  Aero.  He looked rather dissatisfied with his position.  Almost like a kid who had waited in line for a treat, but it wasn't as great as they had hoped.  That was too bad, and most unfortunate for the young sniper.  He was only just getting used to the disappointment that came with this job.

 

"So, you were the 'target' of that mission we were sent on."

 

Pulaski nodded.  "That's correct, detective.  What else have you deduced?" Pulaski said quickly.

 

"And if I might be so bold to ask...why did Mr. West have you under lock and key?"

 

Pulaski raised an eyebrow.  "Mr. West?  Is that how we're referring to the lowlife who 'captured' me?" he asked, using air quotations as he spoke.  But before Pulaski could finish, the Situation Room door jolted open, with Hans and a disgruntled Griever behind him.

 

"Sir... It seems Griever will be joining us after all..." Hans bowed apologetically before glancing outside. "Doctor Nelson would also like a word when you're done here."

 

 "Thank you, Hans.  What in blazes--are you outta your mind, Griever?" Pulaski asked, punching the desk.  "You should be in surg--"

 

"They told me you're the one running this circus..."

 

Pulaski paused, standing up straight and folding his arms.  He waited patiently for Griever to finish, before reacting.

 

"I'm not one for small talk. So why don't we just get to why you've gone to all this trouble to land five killers in the same room." 

 

Ignoring the firearm on the man's waist, Pulaski eyed the bottle in Griever's hands, realizing he stole it from his own mini-fridge in the lounge.  Oh good.  He was as bold as he was stupid.  Pulaski promptly walked over to Griever, and snatched the bottle from his hands.  He tossed it across the room, watching it whiz past Echo's head, and smash against the wall, shattering completely.  Alcohol ran down the walls and spilled onto the floor, as Pulaski turned back to Griever, his eyes like daggers.  Still facing the wounded man, Pulaski pointed back to the projection screen, before he began scolding Griever.  

 

"You see that list?  That's a list of the top one hundred Contractors in the world.  Those one hundred men and women are the scariest on the planet.  Is your name on that list, Griever?" Pulaski asked, getting dead into Griever's face.  "It ain't.  So that means, you don't get to make statements like that.  You've got no clout.  And until you do," Pulaski said, pointing at the list again, more aggressively.  "When you get your name on that list, then you can have your drink."  Pulaski was breathing heavily, suddenly filled with rage.  He felt disrespected, and rightfully so.  And they hadn't even shaken hands yet.

 

"Now sit your bleeding arse down.  We've got a lot of work to do," Pulaski said, stomping back over to the projection screen.  "Hans!" he called, watching the door swing open almost immediately. 

 

"Yes, sir?" he asked slowly.

 

"Would you have someone clean that up when this is over?  And tell Nelson I'll be down in twenty."

 

"Yes, Director," Hans replied, shutting the door behind him.

 

Pulaski rolled his neck, and whipped out a extending pointer from the front drawer of the wooden table.  He pointed to the first slide on the right, beside the Contractors List, and began his speech.  "Right.  Before I answer your question, Aero, we're gonna lay down some ground rules.  Just so that we don't get confused on our positions here," he said, popping the projection screen lightly, once, with his pointer.  It flicked, and a black slide with red bold lettering reading "GROUND RULES" popped up.

 

"First and foremost.  I am your Director.  Director J. H. Pulaski, of the United States Contractors Division.  You will now--and for as long as you are under my command--refer to me as Director Pulaski.  Not Pulaski.  Not J. H.  You will refer to me as Director Pulaski.  There will be no exceptions.  You will show me the respect I demand.  Or you'll find yourselves stranded in a foreign land, arse naked, with not a pot to piss in.  That clear?"  He didn't wait for an answer.  "Good.  With that in mind, you don't like me, and I don't like you.  We're not here to be friends.  We're here because your worthless lives were long past the saving point, but you still had some bloody use.  And that means you've got a lot to prove.  And until I see that proof, you'll be walking on thin ice.  That means I'll be watching and evaluating your every waking moment.  Every breath you take, every action you make.  I will know about it.  And if you aren't sick of me yet, you will be soon.  You're gonna see my face so much, you'll wonder if the bathroom mirror is broken when you stare back at yourself and I'm not there.

 

And then BLAM!" he said, slamming his fists against the table again.  "I'll be right there invading your God damned privacy.  And last but not least ladies and gents," he said standing up straight again.  "I have zero tolerance for insubordination.  And you will have zero margin for error in your missions.  That means any morals and values you hold dear should be thrown outta the bloody window before you leave headquarters, no matter your destination.  You will not allow your emotions or personal thoughts or feelings to interfere with a mission.  And the first time you decide to disobey my orders, will also be the last time you disobey my orders.  And you will find that this is true for all of the Contractor Agencies.  Because there is a spoken rule among us all, despite our differences.

 

There is no such thing as a rogue Contractor or a lone Contractor.  You are much too dangerous to be let loose on your own.  If you are disbarred from this agency, or go A.W.O.L., you will be put down.  There are no alternatives.  Do you understand?"

 

His voice was stern and serious, as he looked into the eyes of the Contractors one at a time, clockwise around the room.  "Good.  Now that this is clear, you have permission to speak.  But first, I will confirm that Griever is correct," Pulaski said nodding to the peeved man.  "This was a set-up.  The Crocs are a small time organization.  Chicago Police Forces have struggled with them, but me being captured by Julian was a ruse.  I was in actual danger, yes.  He could've killed me at any time.  Well, he could've tried.  But my point is, I was caught on purpose.  I sent him some bad information and made him think I'm someone I'm not.  That, Aero, is why I was under lock and key, as you say."

 

Pulaski took a deep breath, and sighed heavily.  "Now.  Who else has a question for me?"

 

[LordCowCowCowCowCowCowCowCow]

Mute wasn't used to being silenced so abruptly. At least, not when other people do it. It was not a fun experience but that wasn't the worst part. Before she was put to sleep she saw it. She saw that man attack The One. That was something she just couldn't stand.

Though at the moment it seemed she couldn't do anything about it. She looked around as she was rudely awoken. The room was dull, and looked like something extremely military in that "top secret" kind of way. She smiled slightly, realizing how out of place her school uniform looked here.

 

There were several people in there with her. None she directly recognized, except one silent boy who she thought she caught a glimpse of at the hotel. But they all seemed to have a certain something about them. Contractors? Probably.

The man, Pulaski, seemed to be in charge here. She glanced around for the man she was certain was The One but couldn't find him...The reason why became clear very soon.

She turned towards him, as he barged in the room, with an excited look that faded as she saw that her enemy, named Hans it seemed, was there as well. The man called Pulaski threatened...Griever was the name? How very exciting! Well he was threatened by Pulaski, but the man didn't actually hurt Griever so she might be able to let it pass.

 

She listened patiently as Pulaski ranted and raved and explained the situation. It was certainly interesting to be addressed so. Once he was finished she gave him a smile. "It seems that not everything was as I was told. Thank you for your explanation Director Pulaski, and I'm certain we will work together oh so very well." She said in a voice dripping with honey and surprising sincerity. "Though there is one thing." She looked towards where Hans was. "Eventually I am going to kill that man. It's just something I have to do." She glanced, coyly, back at Griever and her eyes lit up. "I'm sure you understand, Director Pulaski."

[Ren✧]

It would have been pretty damn near impossible for things to go any more off book than they had. Eliza had hardly looked up from the table as Director Pulaski gave his grandiose speech about how he was in charge and how he deserved respect and this and that. Staring a hole through the table and absentmindedly scratching a divot in the polished wood with her nail, she poured over her last few seconds of consciousness. Where had she gone wrong?

 

She had taken cover behind the bench, not an ideal location but the only one available to her. Eliza's eyes flicked up from the table and settled on Griever for a moment. He had been the man that- Eliza's eyes darted to Mute -she stabbed. Perhaps her mistake had been in disregarding him? In thinking that she was the real threat to the mission? No. "No." She reassured herself, looking back at the table. "It was all a set up. You couldn't have made a mistake in the first place." Of course she didn't believe that. Set up or not, she should've been able to reach the target before the other contractors. If things had just gone according to plan.

 

CHIK! Eliza flinched slightly as her fingernail broke off. Swiping it off the table, discretely, she looked up from where she had lost herself in thought. "Eventually I am going to kill that man. It's just something I have to do." The girl asserted, causing Eliza to narrow her eyes. She shifted her focus uneasily between the girl and her now openly stated target. If there was going to be a fight, Eliza didn't want to be caught between these two.

 

The man was obviously someone not to be trifled with, he had taken down all the Contractors that had been assigned to the bogus mission in a matter of seconds. All of them except for the bird-faced acid breather, of course. That honor had gone to her. And the girl, well she was just crazy enough to be dangerous...and in a room full of paid killers that was really saying something.

 

"So why us?" Eliza asked. "I mean I understand that we're not on the list. Or at least I know that I'm not and he's not." Eliza said motioning towards Griever with her chin. "Any particular reason you wanted your own set of misfit toys?"

[Super Chaos Sonic]

"That's correct, detective. What else have you deduced? Mr. West?  Is that how we're referring to the lowlife who 'captured' me?"

 

Aero frowned some at Pulaski's reaction in the second sentence, sighing slightly. "Apologies, sir. Simply being respectful, even though he was a lowlife that needed to be taken out." he said respectfully. He might've been a killer...but it didn't mean he wasn't respectful.

 

However, things were cut short, when Hans returned with  an oooooohhhhh so familiar Contractor: Griever.

 

"What in blazes--are you outta your mind, Griever? You should be in surg--"

 

This had been the first time Aero finally heard this Contractor's name. Regardless, his eyes were locked on this Contractor. Griever, huh. Well, least I can finally put a name to the bastard who was screwing with me on the 20th Floor. he thought, before hearing Griever. Apparently it was a set up in his eyes...

 

However, to Aero...the next few seconds he enjoyed. Pulaski began to chew out Griever and he was relishing every moment of it. Nevertheless, he kept his composure as he saw the director turn his gaze back to him.

 

"Right. Before I answer your question, Aero, we're gonna lay down some ground rules. Just so that we don't get confused on our positions here."

 

It was the normal run down of ground rules: call me DIRECTOR, no exceptions, evaluating them at all times, invading of privacy...the usual things that people like him would be used to. Regardless, Pulaski confirmed Griever's suspicions...it was indeed a set up.

 

"This was a set-up.  The Crocs are a small time organization.  Chicago Police Forces have struggled with them, but me being captured by Julian was a ruse.  I was in actual danger, yes.  He could've killed me at any time.  Well, he could've tried.  But my point is, I was caught on purpose.  I sent him some bad information and made him think I'm someone I'm not.  That, Aero, is why I was under lock and key, as you say."

 

"All I needed to know, Director Pulaski, sir." Aero said with a stern nod. He wanted to make it known to Griever that he was going to get him back for ruining his zipline, but it was obvious that the one chick was already doing that.

[Dad]

Pulaski could feel their eyes staring into through him like knives to butter.  He felt bad, but it had to be done.  The sooner they became enemies, the sooner--

 

"It seems that not everything was as I was told. Thank you for your explanation Director Pulaski, and I'm certain we will work together oh so very well."

 

His eyes landed on Mute.  "I look forward to it, Mute."  Damn it!  He shouldn't be looking forward to anything.

 

"Though there is one thing."

 

Pulaski remained silent.

 

"Eventually I am going to kill that man. It's just something I have to do." 

 

Pulaski frowned.  She is just as dangerous as he believed.

 

 "I'm sure you understand, Director Pulaski."

 

He sighed, his eyes going from Mute to Griever, then back again.  "At least wait until your first assignment is complete.  Then you can have the murder-lovefest you've been waiting for."  It was clear that she meant what she said.  She was here just to kill Griever.  As strange as that may have been to some of the people in this room, Pulaski accepted it as a fact.  Either she would kill Griever, or he would lob her head off.  He had to start looking for two potential replacements within the next 72 hours.

 

"So why us?"

 

Pulaski turned to settle his face on Catcall.  Eliza--or so her file name read--is what her name actually was.  

 

"I mean I understand that we're not on the list. Or at least I know that I'm not and he's not.  Any particular reason you wanted your own set of misfit toys?"

 

Pulaski smirked.  She brought up a good point.  He didn't want to give her the long story, however.  "I'll be brief, Catcall.  Obviously you understand the list.  You are aware of your own strengths, and possibly those in this room.  But I didn't choose you because of your strengths, as odd as that may be."  Pulaski folded his arms and stepped back a bit, bracing himself against the wall beside the projection screen.  "And what I'm about to tell you is strictly confidential.  It does not leave this room.  It stays in the back of your minds until your death beds.  Understand?" Pulaski asked, looking around the room slowly, before returning to Eliza.  

 

"You were chosen--Catcall--because you're the only Contractors we've had in a year's time."  That actually meant a number of terrible things.  And it was part of the reason the U.S. was in the shape it was in.

 

"That means no volunteers, no captives, and no trades.  No other Contractors have walked through that door," he said pointing to the Situation Room door.  "For a year.  Not since Rubberband, Guillotine, and Pole-vault.  And while I can't give you all of the details right now, I'll make you a deal.  All of you."  Pulaski stood up straight, taking a deep breath.  

 

"Griever.  I've already promised you, if you make that list, I'll give you a drink.  One you won't forget.  The rest of ya.  You'll make me a promise.  You'll promise me that you'll get on the list.  You'll do it, and you'll stay alive.  And if you do," he said pausing.  He waited for the idea that the five of the Contractors in this room would become wanted to sink into their heads.  "I will honor any one request you have, if it is in my power.  That means answering any question, no matter how classified.  That means I'll go over the President of the United States' head if I have to.  But only if you make the list."

 

Pulaski turned to Aero now, who was admittedly over apologetic.  

 

"Apologies, sir. Simply being respectful, even though he was a lowlife that needed to be taken out." 

 

Pulaski shook his head, looking Aero in the eyes.  "You respect your enemies.  That's smart.  Tactical.  Means ya won't underestimate 'em.  But give 'em too much respect and you put yourself in a position you don't wanna be in.  You'll start idolizing them.  You'll wanna be them.  Save your respect.  And just be careful."

 

"All I needed to know, Director Pulaski, sir."

 

"Very good," Pulaski said, taking out his pointer again.  "Now, let's get down to business.  And if anyone mentions the Huns, I'll have you thrown in solitary," he joked.  While his tone didn't suggest it, and his dry sarcastic humor was hard to understand, the joke was there.  Somewhere.  

 

"One year ago, I assigned three Contractors to infiltrate the United States Air Force.  It took them four months to climb the ranks.  Reaching lieutenant, lieutenant corporal, and sergeant respectfully.  That's when they were assigned overseas.  Their given assignment by the Air Force--by Chief Master Sergeant Daryl W. Hammer--was to slow invading militant forces in the Jordan Valley.  They were to assist ground troops with supply drops, lay down suppression fire from the air, and strike supply lines of the enemy.  But that's now why we were there."

 

Pulaski tapped the projection screen, causing the next slide to roll upwards.

 

A geographical map appeared, showing a large mountainous range, with river running through its center.  At the end of the river, and spread sparsely throughout the southern region of this map, were a number of large cities.  But far to the south-west of this map was a small city, highlighted in red.  "This city, here," Pulaski said, directing their attention to the highlighted portion of the map.  "This, is Tafilah, Jordan.  A small city, south of the valley, with a minor population of only thirty-nine thousand people.  When I sent over my three Contractors, they were last headed to this city.  They had been tracking a man they believed to be one of our most elusive targets, since the '70s.  Weaver.  Number eighty-nine on the list.  He's wanted by multiple agencies since 2005, where he made his first and what would soon be his last mistake."  Pulaski flipped to the next page of the slideshow, where Weaver's picture was posted.  A middle eastern man, cleanly shaved whose black hair barely ran past his turban, the slight wrinkles in his face hidden beneath his cheeks as he smiled before the Contractors in the Situation Room.  He was holding a small child's hand, but the rest of the image was burned and cut off.  He was staring down through black shades, his face tilted as thought he were smiling at what should have been a little girl or boy in the bottom right hand corner of the image that was being displayed.  

 

"This is the last picture we have of him, from 2008.  He was sixty-six at the time.  And my crew was tailing him.  Not only does he have valuable information, but there's also a bounty on his head.  Sixty-five million, to be exact.  To most of the world, he's just another man.  But to those who know who he is, he's worth millions.  But I'm not concerned with bounty," Pulaski said, flipping to the next slide.  "I'm more concerned with what Weaver has.  And it's a map."  The map appeared on the next slide, displayed for the Contractors.  A series of red circles and red x's marked on a geographical map of the Eastern part of the world, spread out over Europe, Russia, Africa, India, China, and Japan.  There were at least a dozen circles over the map, but only two or three x's could be spotted.

 

A numerical code was written on the back of the map (which was displayed as a second page on the projection screen), all written as a single number across the entirety of the back of the map.  Part of it was cut off, and pieces of the code were missing.  "What you're seeing is only part of the map.  The map we actually need has a hell of a lot more to it.  Whatever these circles are--bloody targets I bet--they're much more precise.  What we have is just a rough guess of what was actually on the blasted thing the last time we got a look at it.  And we believe this map to contain details as to the targets of a massive scale of attack from a shadow organization of which we have yet to determine.  My men failed to recover it," Pulaski said, sighing finally.

 

Flipping to the next slide, the Contractors would see three x-rays of brains, all of them exactly the same, except in name.  Each individual's name had been blacked out, to preserve their identities as a secret.  "These are the autopsies of Rubberband, Guillotine, and Pole-vault respectively.  Notice the tension lines in even patterns like nets across their brains.  As if they were squeezed or tied up like a Thanksgiving Ham," Pulaski said, a tinge of rage in his voice.  "The cause of death was asphyxiation.  And these same tension lines can be seen on their lungs and hearts as well.  You'll find a copy of this exact autopsy report in your debriefing files.  You'll receive those when we get outta here," Pulaski said, flipping to the next slide.

 

"There were bits of cotton, silk, and nylon found in their brains, hearts, and lungs.  We still don't know what it means, but it has something to do with their cause of death, obviously."  The next slide was blank, and thus the slideshow was over.  Pulaski put his pointer down, and pulled up a chair to finally take a seat.  "This is where you come in," he said finally being situated at the head of the table.  

 

"We have no reason to go through the Air Force or any other United States Military outfit to get you overseas any more.  Because we got a pop-up two weeks ago with distinct matches to Weaver's face.  It's a longshot, but it's the only tail we've had in a while.  And that means we're gonna take it.  And in two days time, you're gonna fly over and nab this son of a jabroni.  And you're gonna escort him back here.  And when I say escort, I mean alive.  If he doesn't have the map, we know he knows what's on it.  So he'll be our best shot at figuring out this little mystery."

 

Pulaski sat back, relaxing in his chair, as he examined the faces of his new team.  He was satisfied.  Despite them being a band of misfits, they may work out after all.

 

"You'll drop in under the cover night, 0300 hours.  We'll drop you just outside of Tafilah, to keep you unseen.  But be warned.  You won't have much time to catch Weaver under the cloak of dark.  If it comes to daylight, and your cover is broken or he knows he's being tailed, he'll have the advantage," Pulaski said, folding his arms behind his head.  "He knows those streets better than you do.  And we can't afford to let him escape again.  So I'll need you to be on your toes and on your bloody best.  Because if he gets to play with Tafilah," Pulaski said slowly.  "That means he's playing with your lives.  And we can't afford for this funker to delay us for too long.  So," Pulaski said sitting up straight now.

 

"That means you have the next forty-seven hours and fifty five minutes to do whatever the hell you damn well please.  That means anything except leaving this compound.  You won't have those rights until you've proven you can be trusted," he said sternly.  "But.  There are six floors down here.  You'll find the lounge, kitchen, doctor's offices, and gym on this floor.  Living quarters and bathroom facilities are located on the third floor down, but there are also four bathrooms--two men, two women's--on each floor, located at the end of each west and east wing respectively.

 

Third floor is where a lot of the harder work gets done.  My office is on that floor.  In addition, the heads of divisions for headquarters--science and technology, weaponry, health, and more--are located on that floor.  Generally, you'll only visit that floor to speak with me.  But if you want to get to know the good doctors, feel free.  But don't keep them from their work."  Pulaski stood up at last, not able to sit for long with his restless leg syndrome.  "On the fourth floor, you'll find the weapons range and weapons lock-up.  Weapons do not leave that floor unless you're on a mission or we're being attacked.  No exceptions.  And finally on the fifth floor, you'll find the cells for prisoners.  Right now they're empty, but. . . I plan on having Weaver fill one of them," Pulaski said again, dryly.  "The sixth floor is strictly prohibited.  No personnel other than myself and one other has clearance for that floor.  The elevator won't even take you down that far without my access key.  So don't even think about it."

 

Pulaski wrapped up his speech by throwing his arms up in exhaustion.  "Each floor is sixty meters wide and a hundred and fifty meters long.  Roughly the side of an American Football field.  A wee bit bigger.  And other than that, we're about through here ladies and gents," he said at last.  "Your rooms have your Contractor's names on them.  Each room has been made exactly the same, so you'll find no differences in them until you change them yourselves."

 

Pulaski gave the Contractors one more once over, before nodding to himself with satisfaction.  "So.  Any more questions?"

[Ren✧]

"You were chosen--Catcall--because you're the only Contractors we've had in a year's time." Eliza cocked her head. Now this was news to her. She had always assumed that there were more of them out there than they were led to believe. They were secret agents after all, it wouldn't do well to broadcast their existence, but to think that this was the best that CMC could do...well it was disheartening to say the least. "So we're here because they couldn't get anyone better..." Eliza thought quietly to herself. It made sense. Why else would they bring a psychotic schoolgirl, a boy that daddy didn't love enough, and a one armed crip together unless they were desperate?

 

 "I will honor any one request you have, if it is in my power.  That means answering any question, no matter how classified.  That means I'll go over the President of the United States' head if I have to.  But only if you make the list." Finally something worth her while. If she was going to work with this group, then she might as well be compensated for it. Still, as valuable as that offer was, she wasn't quite sure what information she needed. Whatever. It wasn't like she could back out anyway. 

 

"So.  Any more questions?" Pulaski asked after briefing the group on their upcoming assignment. Immediately, Eliza's mind went to asking about Weaver. Any intel they could get about him would be vital to crafting a plan that would neutralize him swiftly and with minimal casualties. Of course, she didn't expect Pulaski to have a lot of information on him that he hadn't already offered up. So instead of asking about the mission, she asked the question that had been bugging her since the moment she woke up.

 

Grabbing the small device from her belt, she threw it on the table. It's blinking LED screen flashed harshly as it spun. "I gotta know, who has those damned key cards, because according to that thing at least one of them is in this room? Also, which one of you threw a funking flash grenade?" Eliza rubbed the back of her head, glaring at the entire room. 

[Super Chaos Sonic]

Aero sat there listening to Pulaski continue on, especially the mission. Tafilah, Jordan...the middle east. Now that was somewhere he hadn't thought about since... He quickly shook his head, before keeping focused. The past was the past...he had to focus on the present, the here and now.

 

"You'll drop in under the cover night, 0300 hours."

 

Now they already had their mission laid out before them. Meaning, Aero had to swallow the huge pill that was..."Guess what, those guys that were trying to kill ya? You gotta work with them...YAAAAAAAAAY". Just relax...its for the good of the mission. Swallow your pride this one time... he thought, exhaling softly.

 

"So.  Any more questions?"

 

"So a mission to the Middle East? Should be 'fun'." Aero said, putting a sarcastic emphasis on 'fun', but cleared his throat. "Regardless, can I assume you'll be returning my mask to me, sir?" he said, seeing Pulaski turn to him. "Given the fact that you might already have read our individual files...you know the reason I wear the mask, sir."

 

"I gotta know, who has those damned key cards, because according to that thing at least one of them is in this room?"

 

Now that was a question. Aero turned his head slightly in the direction of Eliza, before smirking, holding up a hand slightly. "I took the keycard on floor number 20."

[LordCowCowCowCowCowCowCowCow]

Mute wasn't fussed about the director's response one bit. He hadn't flat out denied her the chance to murder that man and that was good enough for her. She sat patiently, with her hands folded in front of her, as the Director laid out the mission. And the fact that they were alone when it came to Contractors. That was sorta sad. All this time and she hadn't know she was one of the top five Contractors in the area, technically?

Mute preferred looking on the bright side of things.

 

She payed attention during the entire explanation, and, when they reached the end, frowned. "If he's one of us should you have more information on what he can do?" She hesitated. "Er, sorry Director Pulaski, I didn't mean to sound rude." She said softly.

This was going to be different from anything else she's done, if she was hearing right. Though she was somewhat relaxed to find that her ability would come in handy. Perhaps she could work with Griever and show him her usefulness...

 

Once her question was answered she got up from her seat. She had something very important to do. Taking a deep breath she headed over to the one called Griever. She glanced at his side, where she had stabbed him, and spoke up. "Er, Mr. Griever sir? Just...does that hurt much? Oh, what am I saying, of course it does. I'm being silly. I wanted to, well, that is..." She looked downward, blushing, and picking at the hem of her skirt. She glanced up, looking coyly through her eyelashes, face still a faint pink from the blush, and said "I'm so sorry for hurting you. Is there anything I can do for you?"

[Alaina]

Echo had been sitting by, taking in everything that had been stated thus far. Firstly, the person he was supposedly his target from the last mission was actually his employer. Next, he and a bunch of other contractors had been dragged into this facility, all meant to supposedly work together now as one whole big team. The other contractors in question were the ones that had been on the mission he was on prior, made only apparent by the fact that there were two people in the room that he recognized and the fact that their now boss had told them as such. All of these facts seemed to be pretty simple to understand, and despite the fact that their now boss seemed to be a rather loud and obnoxious one, Echo just took them as they were. Sure it was a bit annoying to have been yanked out of one situation immediately into this one, but all it meant was that he had finished one mission and was going to go onto another one. Simple as that. 

 

Next there was the mention of the list and other contractors. They were chosen because they were all that was left to choose from? Well, as efficient as Echo believed himself to be, he wasn't oblivious to his own faults. Or rather, wasn't oblivious to the fact that he wasn't the strongest of the strong. That had belonged to those on the list, of which not a one of them were apart of. And were they to make this list, they would be able to have one request of theirs granted. Echo wasn't really sure what he could possibly even ask for, not having ever really wanted something, so he simply decided to put that out of his head. Besides, focusing on the list wasn't that big of a priority anyway, after all if one was successful then the climb up it would just happen naturally anyway. 

 

Next came their mission, of which Echo wasn't quite sure what the whole thing behind the map was, nor did he particularly care. The task was simple enough anyway, simply finding a man and bringing him back to this headquarter building in order to help solve this map thing. Sure, initially finding him would be like trying to find a needle in a haystack, but with his tremor sense, the young male was certain that sticking to and tracking him wouldn't be all that difficult. Though for now, they were to do whatever they pleased, which for most meant trying to resolve any unfinished business that was left lingering from the last mission. Echo, however, had no such thing to discuss with the others, and he wasn't exactly the best at small talk either. And so, while the rest were doing whatever they were, Echo had simply continued sitting exactly where he had been this whole time, just releasing a tremor sense pulse into the floor every now and then, more so out of habit than anything else. 

[Dad]

Before things could get any further out of hand, Pulaski quickly went out of his way to address the keycard situation.

 

"That should have been addressed by my team.  The fact that they missed something in the sweep is mind boggling.  I'll see that it doesn't happen again.  As for your mask, Aero--and the rest of you, and all of your weapons and gear that you brought along with you on your first missing--you'll find your equipment in your respective rooms downstairs.  And Mute," Pulaski said, turning to face and interrupt her chat with Griever.  "You're right," he said sighing.  "But you're also wrong.

 

While Weaver is a Contractor, he doesn't belong to me.  He's a Contractor of a foreign nation.  That means whoever initiated him is the holder of his personal files and Contract.  All we have is what we were able to obtain while pursuing the bastard.  Now then," Pulaski said making his way to the door.

 

"Since you've all been mostly quiet, and keeping to yourselves, I'm going to leave you with this:  the total number of Contractors at any given time is one hundred and fifty.  And that's over the entire planet.  There are never more, and there are never less.  Right now, you rank in the bottom.  You're an unknown factor.  You're ghosts.  That gives you an advantage," Pulaski said putting his hand on the door knob.  "But you're unorganized.  You're sloppy.  And frankly, I'm unimpressed.  You've got a child who's clearly obsessed with a man far beyond her age.  I've got a hardass who refuses to obey orders.  A sniper who's far too obvious.  An apparent mute, who's barely moved since we found him.  And a one-armed samurai.  So please forgive me if I'm not hopeful for your outcome."

 

Opening the Situation Room door, Pulaski flipped off the red light outside, turning back to the Contractors.  His gaze settled on Catcall, whom he nodded to.  

 

"Catcall," he said with gruff.  "Do something with your team."

 

Without waiting for their reactions, Pulaski began walking off.  "You're in charge.  I'll be down in my office if someone needs me."  Making his way to the elevator at the far south end of the hall, Pulaski vanished, with only Hans remaining on the floor.

[Hälō]

Griever listened to Pulaski's briefing with his usual deadpan expression. Having been for the most apart unfazed by the old man's attempt to get in his face, John leaned silently against the wall closest to the door. 

 

When Mute began moving towards him, John's eyes narrowed slightly. "hm?" He grunted as the girl stopped her advance a few feet ahead of him as she gazed up at him with her large blue eyes. 

 

"Er, Mr. Griever sir? Just...does that hurt much? Oh, what am I saying, of course it does. I'm being silly. I wanted to, well, that is..." She looked downward, blushing, and picking at the hem of her skirt. Was she trying to make a play on him? Watching the girl glanced up, looking coyly through her eyelashes, face still a faint pink from the blush, John tilted his head slightly. "I'm so sorry for hurting you. Is there anything I can do for you?"

 

"You missed my vitals..." John began whilst grabbing the collar of the suit that rested on his shoulders. Casually sliding it off of his back, John held the suit up to the side reveal his bare chest and bandaged stomach.  A series of scars could be seen all throughout the man's muscular body; gun shots, gashes left by swords, knifes, axes and even claws, all of which belonging to people who were long since killed by Griever's hands. "Not many people get the luxury of walking away after trying to gut me like trout." He spook cooly as he examined the girl's features. John could spot crazy from a mile, and this chick was a mental disorder bargain sale... he'd have to watch his back. 

 

"You had a job to do, and we're apparently in this circus together now, so I wont hold this love tap against you..."  Smoothly glancing down to the large pistol that was holstered at his hip, John allowed a coy half smirk to creep across his lips. "but next time you take a stab at me, you better be sure as hell that I'm dead after, sweetheart." His lifeless gaze peered down into Mute's soul as he tried to analyze any ticks she may have. 

 

"Since you've all been mostly quiet, and keeping to yourselves, I'm going to leave you with this:  the total number of Contractors at any given time is one hundred and fifty.  And that's over the entire planet.  There are never more, and there are never less.  Right now, you rank in the bottom.  You're an unknown factor.  You're ghosts.  That gives you an advantage," Pulaski's voice broke the tension as he moved past the two contractor's and made his way towards the door. "But you're unorganized.  You're sloppy.  And frankly, I'm unimpressed.  You've got a child who's clearly obsessed with a man far beyond her age.  I've got a hardass who refuses to obey orders.  A sniper who's far too obvious.  An apparent mute, who's barely moved since we found him.  And a one-armed samurai.  So please forgive me if I'm not hopeful for your outcome."

 

John's smirk faded. "Catcall," The old bastard spoke again whilst looking towards the one armed woman sitting at the table.  "Do something with your team. You're in charge.  I'll be down in my office if someone needs me."

 

With Pulaski gone, John let loose a sigh before turning to observe the other contractors in the room. So he was apart of a team again, huh? Rolling his shoulder, the large man felt another sharp pain shoot up his body from his wound. "Anyone other than our lovely leader old enough to drink here?" He glanced at Catcall, scanning her face and body before settling his gaze on the younger members of the group. "He had a few more bottles in the fridge out there, and it looks like we're going to be seeing each other for a while." He joked dryly. 

[LordCowCowCowCowCowCowCowCow]

Mute had to keep herself from squeeing as Griever lifted his shirt. Oh my gosh oh my gosh oh my GOSH! He seemed to be fine with what had happened, which just showed to her that he accepted her feelings! This was a wonderful day! But she had to keep her cool, she was a lady after all, so she just nodded politely with a sweet smile on her face.

"but next time you take a stab at me, you better be sure as hell that I'm dead after, sweetheart."

"Oh don't worry. If I try and kill you it'll be for a very good reason, and I won't stop until your heart stops beating...Not that you have anything to worry about, right?" The only reason she'd kill him is if he proved to not be The One somehow. Which she, at this moment, entirely believed wasn't possible.

 

Pulaski spoke up again but then left. His words brought attention to the others in their group. She wasn't particularly interested in them but she probably should try and get to know them, it was only polite.

"Anyone other than our lovely leader old enough to drink here?"

 

Mute paused suddenly, and her smile slipped, as she glared at the one called Catcall, violent murder in her eyes. He called her LOVELY? Mute couldn't let that stand, oh no she couldn't. The girl was going to have to go sooner or later. But for now....

She coughed awkwardly at Griever's question, and raised her hand. "I-I am. Though, I haven't drank before, really." She knew that admitting this made her current choice of attire stand out but, honesty was good with lovers, right?

 

Biting her lip she decided it would be good to get the ball rolling on that "getting to know them" thing.

Mute moved in front of the group, to where Pulaski was standing. She waved to them and cleared her throat. "Hello everyone, my name is Mute, and I suppose we'll be working together from now on. I hope we can all get along and make this a successful partnership." She smiled at each of them, except for ignoring Catcall, and finished her little speech.

[Super Chaos Sonic]

"As for your mask, Aero--and the rest of you, and all of your weapons and gear that you brought along with you on your first mission--you'll find your equipment in your respective rooms downstairs."

 

"Understood, Director Pulaski, sir." Aero nodded, glad that his equipment and effects were in their respective rooms. However, Pulaski spoke yet again...

 

"But you're unorganized.  You're sloppy.  And frankly, I'm unimpressed.  You've got a child who's clearly obsessed with a man far beyond her age.  I've got a hardass who refuses to obey orders.  A sniper who's far too obvious.  An apparent mute, who's barely moved since we found him.  And a one-armed samurai.  So please forgive me if I'm not hopeful for your outcome."

 

The sniper portion of that caused Aero to frown. Far too obvious? What did he exactly expect? Damn old man... he thought, trying to keep his composure. Before this assassin business...people would've been lining up just to get me on their side when they needed a sniper...jeez...

 

But nevertheless, Pulaski finally left the room and this gave the Contractors room to speak freely and move about...and first one to be heard when the director left, was Griever.

 

"Anyone other than our lovely leader old enough to drink here? He had a few more bottles in the fridge out there, and it looks like we're going to be seeing each other for a while."

 

Aero looked at Griever, before shaking his head and finally raising his hand. "Whiskey better be among those." he simply said, before hearing Mute speak and basically introduce herself. Oh...so it was going to be one of those moments. Well...following suit wouldn't exactly be a bad thing.

 

"Well, it's obvious where this is going." Aero cleared his throat. "I'm known as Aero. Specialty is sniping and marksmanship." He looked at Griever, pointing at him. "Don't believe me, ask Griever there. 20th Floor...well placed shot right above the heart...unfortunately for me, it didn't make exact contact. Oh...and you can ask the deep fried piece of guard back at Julian's. Incendiary...a wonderful invention."

 

Aero looked at Griever again, before his eyes narrowed. "Furthermore...you owe me a new zipline. That was my favorite."

[Ren✧]

"I took the keycard on floor number 20." Eliza's ears perked up as her attention was drawn to the sandy haired boy, his face was so youthful that Eliza had to assume that snagging the keycard was the first time he had scored at all. As much as she hated being out-foxed by a suspected virgin, she had to give the boy props. Silently, of course. She didn't know where she stood with these people and they could be looking for chinks in her armor just like she was looking for them in theirs. This was not the time for congratulatory pats on the back. 

 

And if she wanted something to exploit, she had it. The girl with the bloodstained dress and the crazy look in her eye clearly had already developed a crush on her stabbing victim. Unless of course she was trying to use her girlish charm to try and manipulate him. In which case exploiting that relationship would be futile because it wasn't real. It was too difficult to tell when dealing with other Contractors. Hopefully she would be able to figure them all in the next two days. That way she could ensure that everything went according to pla-

 

"Catcall," Pulaski's voice broke through Eliza's stupor, wrestling away from her any thoughts of contingencies, at least for the moment, "Do something with your team."

 

A stiff smile broke out across her face. "Yes sir." There was no better way to make sure that everything went according to plan than to be the leader. 

 

"Anyone other than our lovely leader old enough to drink here?"

"I-I am. Though, I haven't drank before, really."

"Whiskey better be among those."

 

Of course, she wasn't really sure what she was the leader of. Taking note of Crazy McGoo's, AKA Mute's, subtle hostility towards her she began to wonder if just being the only other girl on the team had set her up to be a target. She would tread carefully for now. 

 

"You've all heard my name enough to know it. I wanna know who this guy is and why he's been so quiet." Eliza said, turning to face Echo. Having not heard his voice Eliza couldn't imitate it, making her nervous. The others she could get under their skin if it came down to it, but who was this guy? "What's a matter? She didn't stab you too, did she?" 

[Alaina]

Echo had just continued sitting there, looking at what everyone else had been doing and silently mulling things to himself. Granted, there wasn't much to see between the four other contractors that were in the room. The younger of the two males that weren't him had the other key card from the mission last, the girl who had been on the same floor as him during the mission was talking about how she would go about killing the older male who seemed to have an uncaring look at all times, and then finally the older looking girl who had apparently been put into the position of their leader. Echo was neither happy nor annoyed about the choice of their leader, simply because he had no idea who this person, or these people in general, were. And so he simply just accepted it as it was. 

 

As the older man, Griever, asked if any of them were old enough to drink, Echo simply raised his hand in affirmation. While it was true that he was able to drink alcohol, he often didn't because he didn't quite understand the purpose behind it. Soon after, it had seemed that everyone else was starting to introduce themselves. As both the girl, known as Mute, and the boy, known as Aero, introduced themselves to everyone Echo understood that it would only follow suit for him to do so as well. After all, having a name to a face was important when it came to communication and so when their leader, Catcall, looked over to him and asked who he was he very suddenly, yet  flatly, replied with just, "Echo." When she asked if he had been stabbed by the girl he simply shook his head in denial. While it may have looked like he was purposefully doing this to annoy Catcall, really he was just answering the questions in the most concise way he knew how to. 

[Ren✧]

 "Echo."

 

Eliza watched the mop top shake his decidedly in response to the playful jab about being stabbed by Mute, causing her to raise an eyebrow. Alright, well that blew any chance of lightheartedness out of the water. Which, in all honesty, was fine with Eliza. Poking fun at other people was fun and all, but she would much rather get down to business, a trait that she heavily suspected had led to her being chosen to lead this ragtag band of killers. 

 

"Fantastic." She said, giving Echo a toothy grin, before clutching the table tightly and the spinning her chair so that she could better face the entirety of the group assembled. It was amazing what being in charge did for her adrenaline. It was as good as a shot of espresso. She felt alive. In control. Taking a moment she surveyed their faces, recalling the information she had gathered on each of them so far. 

 

Unfortunately, it wasn't much. While they had been engaged at the Julian West Financial Associates Building, the only Contractor she had the privilege of getting to know was now getting well acquainted with the dirt. Still, she wasn't completely at a loss for info on her new teammates. 

 

Dusty, AKA Aero, was self-proclaimed sniper, marksman extraordinaire. Eliza hadn't seen much of McGoo in battle but she had been confident enough to walk through hellfire and stab another Contractor. Unfortunately she was obviously a little sick in the head. Then there was Daddy Issues, AKA Stabbing Victim, AKA Griever, who was obviously thought to be competent by the Director(and himself) but very, very, cocky. Plus, it didn't help that despite being dangerously close to achieving their assigned goal while in the field, Eliza only saw him get stabbed by a little girl in sundress. Finally, Chatterbox, AKA Echo, wasn't exactly a wealth of clues but Eliza could only guess he was (1) incredibly power-hungry and offset by a woman in a position of power over him or (2) deeply analytical and was taking in everything for further analysis. 

 

"Before you go drink yourself into a stupor," Eliza said, stopping Daddy Issues from forgetting all the hugs that he didn't get and the birthday parties missed with a bottle of Jack Daniels, "Let's be clear." Eliza stood from where she had been sitting, trying to be authoritative but not threatening. They didn't need another Director, they needed a leader. 

 

"We'll be spending the next 2 days getting to know each other. We're fooling each other if we think we can learn how we operate in the field. There just isn't enough time for that, but the trust needs to be there. Weaver has already taken out three American Contractors. We don't need to add any more to that list. So, the plan will be a simple one," Eliza could feel herself getting excited, thinking about the preparation and practice that would be required to pull the "simple" plan off.

 

"The five us will split into three groups once we land outside of Talifah." Looking between Mute and Griever she hoped she wasn't making a mistake pairing the two of them up. She reasoned that Mute would watch Griever's back like a hawk and that hopefully Griever was experienced enough to keep the girl safe should they run into trouble. "Mute and Griever, you're gonna cover some of the ground. Echo and I will pair up and take another ground patrol. Dust-, er, I mean, Aero, you'll make up your own group and have a vantage point over Talifah to not only look for Weaver with your better-than-average eyesight but also provide us cover if we need it. Once Weaver is found we'll all converge on the location. Simple." 

 

Met with silence, Eliza looked around the room. "Of course we'll take the next few days to study the maps of Talifah, plan any disguises or get-away routes, but if anyone has a problem with the plan...now is the time to speak up." Eliza said the last part of her sentence through gritted teeth. 

[Dad]

Situation Room

1:45 P.M. Central

Blind Faith

 

"Okay, listen up.  This will be brief.  I'm gonna need you on that plane in fifteen," Pulaski said as he spread out the map of Talifah over the table.  "You've had a chance to review these already, but I'm going to reiterate it anyway.  You're not coming in directly over Talifah.  You're coming in through the mountains.  Once on the ground, a pick-up will take you down through the valley and to the outskirts of the city.  Remember your counter sign.  'It's in the shop'.  Our operators only ask twice.  After that, he'll either open fire or abandon you.  So don't screw it up," Pulaski said standing aside now, so that the pull down projection screen was visible.  "The market is my biggest concern," he said as the Talifah Market previewed on the big screen.

 

"It's the largest open area, with lots of tall buildings surrounding it.  But other than that, Talifah is a small town with a few dozen back allies, and a lot of easy ways to get lost.  Now, over the past few days, you've gotten to know each other.  You know your Latent Potentials, and who works best where.  As your leader, Catcall will guide you where she wants you.  You can use the market place high points if you get cornered, but you won't have a place to hide.  Most of the buildings surrounding it are residential, and they go on lockdown at night.  You won't be able to barge in.  It's nothing but tacky wooden market stands and dirt.  Granted most of the structures are concrete, Griever might be able to punch through them.  But," Pulaski said flipping to the next screen.  It was a picture of police sirens and cars.  "I would try to capture your target without drawing too much attention to yourselves."  Pulaski turned the projector off, turning back to face the Contractors.  "Remember, we don't have much on this guy, so whatever you find out about this guy will be up close and personal."

 

Pulaski took a seat, motioning towards Eliza.  "Catcall.  You gave me some notes regarding your last two days with your team.  You said you want to hear more out of Echo but you like his tactical eye.  So, Echo," Pulaski said now gesturing to the young man.  "That means unless Catcall tells you otherwise, your communication levels need to rise between you and your teammates.  And as for you, Mute," Pulaski said, turning with his arms folded to gesture towards the youngest of the group.  "Well.  It's not my call.  But I advise you be separated from Griever for this and all further missions until stated otherwise.  It's come to my attention that you can't seem to focus or do your job when in his presence.  But in the end, I'll leave that to your C/O.  And finally, Aero," Pulaski said cracking his knuckles.

 

"Catcall believes you could be an integral part of this mission.  Assuming you can snipe your target non-lethally through multiple ten inch thick stone buildings, you might be more than a look out.  When your mission is concluded, you're to rendezvous with Helo 1 in the east quadrant of the city.  But you will not receive pick up unless you have the target, or the target is dead.

 

And if he's dead, boys and girls," Pulaski began sighing.  "If he's dead, that means this mission is a failure, and we'll be back at square one.  So do your jobs, and do 'em right.  Your pilot should--"

 

At Pulaski's words, the Situation Room door was opened, with Hans stepping aside for a guest.  "Sir.  Sean Live is here to see you," Hans said in his usually slow voice.

 

"There's the steamin' pile of dung I'm a 'posed to see!  How's it goin' Jameison?" said a fully military geared man with a flight helmet over his head.  Wearing a number of dog togs, and strapping an M-16 machine gun to his back, the combat ready pilot strolled nonchalantly over to Pulaski, who stood up with an annoyed look on his face.  

 

"That's Director Pulaski to you, boy," Pulaski said, straightening his suit coat.  

 

"Aww, come on Director.  Don't be such a hardass.  We got such a good thing goin'!  Why don't cha introduce me to yer crew?"  He had a heavy Irish accent, a thick orange-red beard, and mangled orange blonde hair with a barely visible buzz cut beneath his helmet.  Raising an eyebrow, he turned to face the Contractors, it was clear this man had some history with Pulaski.  "Well, speak up!  I don't fly cargo!  I fly livin' creatures only!  So what er' yer names?"

 

Pulaski interrupted the pilot, shoving him aside and standing before him, just barely blocking his view of the Contractors.  "This is Agent Live," Pulaski said turning his shoulder only to show Live's face.  "Live is our best pilot, and the best drunk on the base."  Behind Pulaski, Live bowed proudly at Pulaski's endearing comments.  "Agent Live, this young lady is Catcall," he said motioning to Eliza.  "You'll be escorting her team to Jordan, per our discussion."

 

Live cautiously moved around Pulaski, and took off his helmet and tucking it under his arm as he approached Eliza.  "Lady Catcall," he said, not trying to hide his accent at all.  He bowed, taking her hand and gently kissing it with his hairy face.  "It will be my honor to escort such a beauty of a woman. . .well, anywhere in the damn world if you'll have me," he said with a grin.  Stepping back, he turned to Pulaski.  "Ya didn't tell me your team was lead by such grace, old man!  I might not be able to fly if she's on board," he joked, looking Eliza up and down.

 

Pulaski slapped Live, causing him to wince.  "Ow!  That's not very nice!"

 

"You'll keep your God damned eyes on the sky, Live.  And bring my team--excuse me--Catcall's team back safely.  Understand?" Pulaski barked.

 

Live shrugged, heading over to the Situation Room door.  "Sure, sure.  I got it.  But uh. . .this team got a name?" he asked, pausing at the door with his hands behind his head.

 

Pulaski looked to Catcall, who remained silent as she pondered what to call her band of miscreants.  And then she said it.

 

“You can call us the Misfits,” Eliza said with a proud smile.

 

Live scratched his head.  “Well.  I hope you won’t be a misfit for the plane.  Let’s go!”

 

 

Five hours into their flight, Live and the Misfits were crossing international airspace, with clouds beneath their wings.  The ironically large cargobob buzzed loudly in the early morning, as the clock struck 3 a.m. 

 

Over the loudspeaker and through the cockpit, Live called back to the Misfits.  “Alright guys and gals!  We’ll be over Jordan in thirty seconds!”

 

The Contractors looked around to each other, then back towards the cockpit, as Griever asked the obvious. 

 

“What’d ya mean over Jordan?  And how are you gonna land this big ass thing!?” he said through the mic attached to his overhead.  He quickly glanced at the parachutes hanging neatly across from the Contractors, each in different colors with different colored chutes on a steel rack at eye level on opposite side of the plane.  

 

“Land!?  Ha!  Hahahahaha!  You kids are really off your mark, ain’t cha!?” Live replied, lowering the cargo doors.  And now, fifty thousand feet above Jordan, the Contractors had to dive into the mountains, and hit their mark.

 

Too far off, and they risked being captured.  Too close, and they would run smack into the Jordan Mountains, and be killed.  This was an opportunity to prove just how precise they could actually be.

 

“Pulaski says you're to meet up with a ground team in the valley!  Counter sign is 'It's in the shop!'  Well!  Go on then!  Let ‘er rip!” Live taunted them.