24991116 | 0310

  National Monument Reserve | EUNESCO Heritage Site 00054

  43° 5' 32.8596'' N

  79° 2' 49.7400'' W

  Two men and one woman descended to the hangar from their sleeping quarters.

  They are clad in full combat fatigue and modern armor.

  One of them was adjusting his combat harness and checking his sidearm as the four joined up at the stairs and continue their pace downwards.

  “Slept well?” one of them spoke up.

  “Have I ever?” the other, a woman, replied.

  “What’s the play this time, chief?” the other spoke up.

  The presumable leader of the group, the only one amongst the operatives who have not spoken a word, held up a flimsy piece of transparent plastic at the one who did.

  The man took a read and exclaimed, “whoa, four of them? Far out!”

  “What sort of threat-level requires the activation of four Agents?” the female operative spoke up.

  “Church, Boa, only the Church would elicit a response from EVECorp,” the second man replied, “did you not read the brief?”

  “Why would I need to read the brief when I got you to fill me in, Scott.” Boa shot back, albeit good-naturedly, “for a Snake, you sure talk too much.”

  They reached the bottom of the stairs, and

  “Dripping with venom, that tongue of yours,” Scott replied, “That’s because you can get enough of my charming personality and you are starved for some male-female sexually-charged interaction, when was the last time you got some…?”

  “Can it, Python, we are already running late and Viper’s already at the brief,” the leader said, “Hydra spent two years of remote surveillance and sifting through Church missives to get us this intel, if there is anything we miss, she can brief when we are there.”

  Boa grinned beneath her mask and tech-helm as Scott, callsign Python, shot her a conspicuous look before saying, “yub, yub, Commander.”

  Cobra let off a subtle hiss, a long-suffering sigh distorted by his helm and rebreather unit, and kept walking.

  Scott grinned wider as Boa shook her head in resignation.

  They walked through the chilly hangar, passing the massive hangar that served as docking bay for the hundreds upon hundreds of unidentified crafts and weapon systems, towards the briefing room at the far end.

  Overhead a network of frost-laden pipes and the enormous darkness of the ceiling unseen, Hidden from view by the mist, the darkness and the electro-camoshroud thrown over them. Insulated for decades by the massive bedrock, churning waters of the fall and electromagnetic disruptors and energy dampeners.

  They are the remnant of the Old World, the last hope their forefathers placed upon their children as the world they knew ended all around them.

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  The only reason this place survived for so long was due to its secrecy. Surrounded by unmanned territories, natural forest reserves, and a massive archive dump decades ago.

  “When was the last time we were down there?” Python piped up again, “this place gives me the creeps.”

  “For you, maybe six months ago,” Boa snorted, “the creeps? Everyone’s asleep, there are maintenance personnel down here all day, you know.”

  “Mission briefings at midnight, totally our thing.” Scott replied, “Snakes are nocturnal, I heard.”

  Cobra ignored the two of them, he pulled off his glove and placed his hand on the door handle, the bio-metric scanner lit green, with and a soft chime and a hiss of displaced air the door and granted the team ingress.

  Another flight of stairs leading down to a shaft to the lowest level of the installation, a level only accessible by the taskforce.

  The team walked though without further chatter; they were all business as the door sealed shut behind them.

  They came into the pristine and sterile briefing room, identical to every single rooms and section they past through at this level, all steel grates and featureless wall panels lit by bland halogen lights, a man was already within waiting for them.

  “Sir,” Viper gave Cobra a nod as the team took their seats.

  “Good to see you, old friend.” Cobra replied.

  “Thank you all, for coming.” Viper said, without any preamble, “Let’s begin, Hydra will dial-in.”

  Before them they have a data-pad; encrypted to their biometrics, as they picked it up, the device reacted to their DNA-encoding and grant each person briefs specific to their specialties.

  Dial-in, Cobra mused, an old term.

  Dialling was obsolete for hundreds of years, but somehow the term survived.

  The screen flicked on.

  “Good evening, gentlemen,” a voice spoke up, the screen was black.

  An oscillating bar, reactive to vocalization.

  Voice only.

  “Hydra,” Cobra returned, “good to see you.”

  “Commander.” Hydra’s voice came back formally across the comm, heavily-encrypted and distorted beyond any possible identification, “Your pardon, for dragging you all out of bed at this ungodly hour. Approximately three hours ago, our European cell detected massive activity in Cathedral Prime.

  Midnight mass on a global scale, the High Priestess personally led the ceremony.”

  “Not unheard of, masses are commonplace as the Church assimilate the fringe into their ranks,” Boa spoke up, “but we are nowhere near any major religious day.”

  “An acute observation, Lieutenant.” Hydra replied, mechanical and precise.

  “So, what’s the occasion?” Boa asked as she flicked dataslate after dataslate, digesting the info-pack.

  “Ritual of Anointment,” the digitized voice replied.

  “There were thousands of Rituals of the Anointed,” Boa continued, “what makes this one so special…?” her voice trailed away as she noted the details.

  “You sure your source got the right numbers?” Python interjected; his carefree demeanour evaporated as he realized the gravity of the situation sinks in.

  “Four?” Cobra asked, giving voice to the question on everyone’s mind, to which the digital voice replied in the affirmative.

  “Church,” Python swore.

  “Four Harbingers.” Hydra continued, “the Ritual of the Anointed overseen by the High Priestess personally.”

  “Unprecedented,” Viper spoke up since the beginning of the briefing, “the Church have never anointed four Harbingers, at one time.”

  “Exactly, captain, this is unprecedent.” Hydra replied, “We believe they are preparing for the End of Days.”

  “They will respond,” Cobra said grimly.

  “Yes, Commander,” Hydra replied evenly, “as of zero hour today, EVECorp activated four Agents. Enforcer-class.”

  “You verified this?” Cobra asked.

  “Shirley Tempess was visually confirmed leaving the Chateau de Fontainebleau, in an EVECorp hovercar.” Hydra continued as multiple footages with timestamp flashed up on screen showing a woman in sunglasses and trenchcoat, taken from surveillance and traffic cameras, “she arrived in EVECorp Tower, Paris CDB, minutes to midnight.”

  “The other three Agents were confirmed to be from her fireteam,” Hydra finished.

  “Her fireteam,” Python whistled, “Church.”

  “Stop saying that,” Boa hissed.

  “What’s our strategics?” Cobra asked Hydra, deliberately ignoring them both.

  “We believe these unprecedented events would be a great opportunity to disrupt the Church and deal a blow to EVECorp, simultaneously.” The disembodied voice continued, “tipping the balance of power.”

  “Cash, web or infra?” Python spoke up.

  “Two of three are your mission parameters,” Hydra replied, “Church is priority.”

  “Let’s get to it,” Cobra said simply as he stood up, “mission control in two hours.”

  “No one sleeps around here?” Scott groaned as Cobra walked past.

  “Good hunting, Snakes,” the digitized voice said as the team filed out, “do not overextend your reach, Hydra out.”

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