The sound of someone's heavy combat boots echo down the concrete halls.
As you lean back into your chair, an operative dressed in stealth fatigues steps into your office.
In their arms they carry a manila colored folder, marked with the insurgency logo and a bright red clearance warning.
Not a moment after your eyes recognize the item in their arms, it's thrown onto your desk with a hint of annoyance.
The force from the throw slides the folder to your side of the desk, almost teetering off the edge.
You open your mouth to say something, but the person had already stormed out of your office by the time you looked back up.
Despite their attitude, you're pleased they managed to get it to you on such short notice.
As the echo of a pair of combat boots once again reverberates throughout the concrete bunker, the folder catches your gaze.
You gently open the folder with an almost eager touch.
A light blinks in your peripheral vision.
As you look up from the less-than-interesting incident report on your desk, you see a flashing notification symbol in the corner of your computer monitor.
Clicking on it opens up a program window on your screen. The program buffers for a moment before displaying a layout that somewhat resembles an email service.
The top most entry automatically opens, revealing its contents to you. An email from one of your revenant operatives, with a single message attached: "We found it"
Below the message is a file marked as meetingnotes.txt. Your eyes widen upon seeing it. Despite the bland file name, you know exactly what this is.
You click twice on the file, displaying it on your screen.
You hope there's something left inside it.
Today is the weekly bunk inspection. Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, the rest of the cell is out on a raid, meaning most bunks and footlockers are left in their natural, disorganized state.
You run through your usual checks. Unmade beds. Loose objects. Nothing unusual. Unclean living spaces and trinkets with some kind of meaning to their owners. As you finish your run through of the main army's bunk room, you stop at the last set of beds tucked into the corner of the room. Scribbling another mark on the clipboard held in your left hand, marking the 15th and 16th beds as being unkempt, you pop open the footlocker at the bottom of the bed.
Inside it lays a neatly folded white dress shirt, with an MCU-2/P gas mask resting on top of it. Next to it is a half disassembled H&K MP7, with a portion of its outer shell and barrel missing. Firearms shouldn't be stored with personal belongings, but it looks non-functional anyways. Several combat knives in varying states of disrepair line the remaining space of the footlocker. As you make another note on your clipboard and move to close the locker, the glint of something inside the locker catches your eye. Upon taking a closer look, you notice a black corner sticking out from beneath the shirt. Carefully picking the shirt up with a mind to watch out for more knives, you find the hiding place of a small, black leather notebook. You have more important things to do, and it's almost immature to concern yourself with the private thoughts of a member of the main army, but humoring yourself every once in a while can't hurt much, right?
As you lean back into your chair, an operative dressed in stealth fatigues steps into your office.
In their arms they carry a manila colored folder, marked with the insurgency logo and a bright red clearance warning.
Not a moment after your eyes recognize the item in their arms, it's thrown onto your desk with a hint of annoyance.
The force from the throw slides the folder to your side of the desk, almost teetering off the edge.
You open your mouth to say something, but the person had already stormed out of your office by the time you looked back up.
Despite their attitude, you're pleased they managed to get it to you on such short notice.
As the echo of a pair of combat boots once again reverberates throughout the concrete bunker, the folder catches your gaze.
You gently open the folder with an almost eager touch.
A light blinks in your peripheral vision.
As you look up from the less-than-interesting incident report on your desk, you see a flashing notification symbol in the corner of your computer monitor.
Clicking on it opens up a program window on your screen. The program buffers for a moment before displaying a layout that somewhat resembles an email service.
The top most entry automatically opens, revealing its contents to you. An email from one of your revenant operatives, with a single message attached: "We found it"
Below the message is a file marked as meetingnotes.txt. Your eyes widen upon seeing it. Despite the bland file name, you know exactly what this is.
You click twice on the file, displaying it on your screen.
You hope there's something left inside it.
Today is the weekly bunk inspection. Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, the rest of the cell is out on a raid, meaning most bunks and footlockers are left in their natural, disorganized state.
You run through your usual checks. Unmade beds. Loose objects. Nothing unusual. Unclean living spaces and trinkets with some kind of meaning to their owners. As you finish your run through of the main army's bunk room, you stop at the last set of beds tucked into the corner of the room. Scribbling another mark on the clipboard held in your left hand, marking the 15th and 16th beds as being unkempt, you pop open the footlocker at the bottom of the bed.
Inside it lays a neatly folded white dress shirt, with an MCU-2/P gas mask resting on top of it. Next to it is a half disassembled H&K MP7, with a portion of its outer shell and barrel missing. Firearms shouldn't be stored with personal belongings, but it looks non-functional anyways. Several combat knives in varying states of disrepair line the remaining space of the footlocker. As you make another note on your clipboard and move to close the locker, the glint of something inside the locker catches your eye. Upon taking a closer look, you notice a black corner sticking out from beneath the shirt. Carefully picking the shirt up with a mind to watch out for more knives, you find the hiding place of a small, black leather notebook. You have more important things to do, and it's almost immature to concern yourself with the private thoughts of a member of the main army, but humoring yourself every once in a while can't hurt much, right?
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