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RP: IPG [IPG Operators] Breaking Blood Explosion Extraordinaire!

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SUBLIMEinal

Well-Known Member
Conference Room 101 - IPG HQ, Rok'Veru

"How many?"

"10,000, Grand One."

Vice Admiral Veles rested his cold gray eyes on his aide's face. The captain stared back, although much more passively. One of the massive Operators surrounding the table coughed lightly, the arm he moved to catch it the only movement in the solid wall of highly trained soldiers. Veles nodded slowly at the proposition his subordinate had given him. 10,000 new Operators, all of them either having applied in their hometowns, or hand-picked by Field Intelligence Officers.

"Get them here." The Nepleslian stood slowly from his large chair, the Operators around him stepping back to allow their leader passage. "They will arrive by the end of the week to begin their training." He looked to the gigantic men around him. "You will instruct them." He turned away and strode through to the door of the room, his men stepping away to allow him out. The door closed and they began to file out through the other entrances.


One Week Later...

Operator Gathering Hall - Rok'Veru


The room was massive, dark gray walls towering meters over the 300 long benches arrayed in front of the large obsidian podium. Behind it, mounted high on the wall, stood a massive rendition the IPG insignia. 1,000 feet below the surface of Rok'Veru, Vice Admiral Veles looked over the second class ever of IPG Operator hopefuls. His gray eyes scanned over all of them, his heavily secured neural uplink matching names and files to faces. Most of the planned group had already arrived, although according to the IPG's wide-spread eyes, they were all on-world, and should be arriving soon. Veles would wait for them.

On one of the afore-mentioned benches sat a large, powerful looking man, already dressed in the standard black ballistics armor. While Operators were generally discouraged from showing rank insignia, today was slightly different, and the Half-ID-SOL proudly displayed his Captain bars on his shoulder. The large LCD screen fitted over his face displayed a slightly grainy eye, an exact copy of the massive wall hanging at the front of the room. This eye was, like most others, focused on the Podium, where his leader stood. So far, other than one former street gangster that he had pegged for an early and painful death due to his unwillingness to stop being irritating and out-and-out cockiness, Mitchell Flins' bench of trainees was empty.

"Maaan, this shit is Whack." The gangster began acting up again. Flins tried to not let it distract him. "I mean, I get here, and these big fuckin' ID-SOLs, they give me, this fuckin' piece a' plastic!" He yelled frantically, shoving a small duraplast card in the much larger soldier's face. The card displayed the street tough's name (apparently Johnny Q. Pils), his picture (An ugly mug, to be sure, with ratty blonde hair, crappy teeth, and yellowed eyes), and the name of his to-be instructor. Mitchell sighed and pushed the arm away, wishing both that the side of the bench had not been emblazoned with his name to assist the recruits in finding him, and that Grand Veles had not restricted him from murdering the annoying men on the spot. The half ID-SOL simply continued to stare at the podium, and hope that the other trainees were more manageable than the miserably loud man next to him.
 








 









 









 


 
 





 

Anonymous said:
Neis nodded to his supervisor and entered the large man's office without a word. He stood at attention inside the darkened office and waited patiently and silently for whatever it was that the ID-SOL wanted to say to him.




Anonymous said:
"Excellent, you sound like an able sort." Hatu nodded, Her relaxed nature seems to show no suspicion, this might be easy.

"So, where did you pick those combat skills up?" The cyborg inquired.




 




MissingNo said:
"Ah." Nelew filed away the path they had taken, then paused and gave a small sniff as smells from the room beyond began to reach her.
 
The smells would be decidedly appetizing to the average Nepleslian. As the group neared the end of the hallway, they would be able to see into the large, ornate dining room set aside for the Operators. Within, electronic lights disguised, through the use of holographic projectors, as burning candles lit the large hall. The dark wooden tables and plush, crimson-cushioned chairs seemed strangely graceful for the dark gray halls that surrounded it.

On the far wall, across the room from the entrance the Initiates would be using to enter, stood a long buffet, loaded with almost every conceivable type of food. The conversation in the dining room was quite subdued for the massive amount of men within, especially from the large group of Operators clustered in the center of the room, who seemed to eat silently.
 
Hatu rubbed his metal hands together at the sight of the foods before him as he stood at the enterance. At least they know how to cook.

"I think I'll go ahead and grab a plate." Hatu grinned to Nelew as he scurried over to the buffet and grabbed a plate.
 
Nodding to Hatu, Nelew followed him in, surveying the room as she walked to the buffet and becoming all too aware that she was an anomaly in that room. Not the ideal position to hold if one is not desiring attention.

She picked over the selections at the buffet, loading her plate rather high by the time she reached the end. Then she headed for a nearly deserted table on the edge of the Operator 'cluster' in the center of the room. Far enough to not directly invite trouble (as sitting among them might have done), but close enough that it wouldn't seem as though she was trying to avoid them.
 
Lenz's posture relaxed a little when he entered the mess hall. He looked at the lush food spread appraisingly, unsure of what to make of it as he entered the line to get himself a plate.

His narrowed eyes scanned the room curiously as he searched for a very specific face in the crowd. He doubted that if that ugly punk he beat up earlier would return after an interrogation, but he couldn't help but want to pursue his own "line of questioning".

As his turn to serve himself came up, he gathered a plate of what seemed to be relatively healthy food that were possibly the least subject to heavy processing- salad, baked chicken, other steamed vegetables and a couple pieces of bread. He also grabbed a cup of water before he sat down at a table that offered a good view of the door with his plate.

It's almost like something Mei would... He frowned as his thoughts drifted back to his little sister and what the men who had taken her might be doing to her. The fork in his left hand snapped with a loud SNAP.

"Shit."
 
Alaster soon grabbed his own plate, and a cup of juice. As he turned about, the young man saw Lenz snap his fork. Frowning very slightly he took an extra, and walked over to Lenz, and put the fork down beside him. He didn't choose to sit with the man, but instead he merely went to a different table, and sat down looking thoughtfully at his food. The smells of the food on the buffet, and in front of him wafted up to his nose, and made him sigh a little in anticipation.

Truth be told he hadn't eaten yet today.
 
Lenz blinked as a fork appeared. "Uh, thanks," he said gruffly and quickly as he spun around in surprise to watch Alaster walk away. He placed the broken pieces of fork into his pants pocket before returning to his plate of chow.
 
Having gotten all of the visual information she wanted about the room and its occupants, Nelew focused her eyes on the plate of expertly-stacked food in front of her.

The six-inch stack was set around a number of mushy items consisting of a baked potato mashed down with butter and a bit of fried rice and pork 'n beans. Around those items were a boarder of baked chicken legs, and crisscrossing across the center were a dense arrangement of breadsticks and fries. A small burger rested on the fries and carried on itself a chicken breast - fried - and a rack of barbecued baby-back ribs.

She started on the ribs, eating at a steady, but a little faster than normal, pace. Meanwhile her ears were alert to what little talk there was around her. The snap of a utensil made her look up, but it turned out to be only Lenz so Nelew returned to her meal.
 
There was a soft footfall of boots against the hard tile floor behind, Nelew accompanied by the sounds of stiff fabric brushing against itself as a dark eyed young man wearing heavy black canvas cargo pants, boots and t-shirt walked over to the table where she was sitting and sat down quietly a couple seats away from her. He was about average height for a Nepleslian at about 6 feet tall and had a very young, look about him despite the dark stubble on his chin.

His plastic tray lightly clicked against the top of the table, and the silverware clinked softly as well. "When was the last time they feed you, Sugar? You look like you're going to blow away in the next breeze," The man chuckled in a friendly sort of way.
 
"Thirteen hours and seven--," replied Nelew without even a second thought, but stopped herself when she realized the reaction was probably the wrong one. She stopped eating for a moment and looked at the Nepleslian. "My mass is enough to remain on the ground regardless of air movements," she added, deciding to reply to the 'witty observation' rather than the direct question. That was how conversation went, wasn't it? And his demeanor appeared more casual than those of her teammates...A conversation with this man may be more fruitful than with the others.
 
The man smiled, looking unphased by Nelew's strange comment."So technical, I take it you spent a lot time with your nose in books, then? Oh don't worry, I find intelligent women attractive, so you won't offend me by sounding smarter than I probably am." His dark brown eyes seemed friendly enough as he winked at her. He made a swirling gesture with his fork as he realized his manners. "Name's Caleb Locke, what's yours, Sugar?"

He offered a friendly smile, revealing that his teeth were perfectly straight and pearly white. More observations about his personal grooming habits would lead one to come to the conclusion that he spent a lot of time on himself, there was not a speck of dirt under his neatly trimmed fingernails nor a flake of dandruff in his ear length black hair.
 
"Nelew Enev'Rana." Nel smiled too, but her eyes weren't in it. They were flicking back and forth over his face, his hair, his clothes... "Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Locke," she said, abruptly meeting his gaze, still smiling as her eyes began matching her expression...cheerful, but in a by-the-book way.
 
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