Trinity RPG: Quantum of Hope - Flashback: Induction

[knave]

Flashback: Induction

The man sitting on the desk at the front of the very small class of athletic, steely-eyed inductees doesn’t look like much: thinning ginger hair, ears too large for his head and dark beady eyes haven’t ever exactly been in fashion. Perhaps that’s the point.

“My name is Harrison Greaves.” The voice really doesn’t match up with the little man’s appearance - it’s almost the opposite in fact - clipped, commanding, confident. Not the voice of a little man.

“I’m the co-ordinator for Avalon Section. That’s you.” He lets that sink in for a second.

“The fact that you’re in this room means that you’ve been hand picked from already elite groups. It means that you’ve passed psychological profiling tests to prove that you posses the necessary sense of purpose to be in this agency.”

“I’ll tell you right now what that means, and that’s piss-all.”

He glares at each of you in turn.

“You are now agents for His Majesty’s Integrated Intelligence Service. Sooner or later you will find yourself in a position where you must decide whether or not a mark lives or dies. There won’t be any orders. Ending someone when you’re following orders is a different thing altogether. A much easier thing.”

“I’m saying that you will be in a situation where you must make the moral choice whether or not to take that life. Whether or not you do it, you and all of us will have to live with the consequences.”

“There are no easy choices. This job makes each of us a potential judge, jury and executioner.”

“If you’re strong enough to pull the trigger you’re half way to what we need.”

“The hard part is finding people who can shoot and not grow to like it.”

A flicker of some dark memory touches his features.

Harrison gets off the desk and takes a data chip from his suit pocket. He places it on the desk next to him. “This is your first assignment. It’s away from London. A possible aberrant sighting. Backup is likely to be sparse from this agency for this one. We have our hands full with this beanstalk business.” It’s pretty clear that he doesn’t approve.

“I’ve assigned a veteran agent to accompany you and evaluate your performance, so do try not to fuck it up too much.”

[Asbjørn]

Edmund Carlton-Sandways looks from Greaves' eyes to the chip on the desk. His hands are folded in his lap, one elbow resting casually on the armrest of his chair as he considers the section coordinator's words. Despite the obvious differences between leading a VARG unit and being an IIS operative, the message seems clear and familiar in the former space marine Captain's mind. Assess the situation. Deal with it. Move on.

The athletic, smooth shaven man uncrosses his legs and leans forward a little, reaching for the chip.

"Understood. Will we rendezvous with said agent here or on site?"

As he speaks, Sandways slots the chip into his assigned minicomp, blinking momentarily as the data enters and overlaps with his field of vision, half obscuring the man behind the desk. He cocks his head sideways to counter the effect as he scans the general contents of the chip, handing it on to the next agent in line after transferring the data.

[Rorx]

Next in line is George Kalnan, sitting at only one step away from attention, the former Sgt of the regular Spacemarines obviously still has some way to go to relax into his new service.

Taking the datachip carefully by opposite corners from his colleague, Geogre briefly turns it over in his fingers, staring intently at it, before slotting it into his minicomp. [OOC try to combine his micro/telescopic and ir/thermal vision to see if he can pick up the former Captains fingerprints on the chip, and if so store them on the minicomp.]

The tall, broad built operative takes his time loading the data off the stick, taking care to run it through the data security and anti-virus protocols before allowing any data on to his minicomp. Typical VARG officier, he thought to himself, never think procedures apply to them, until they get burned badly enough. Then he passes the chip onto the next in line, still holding it just by the corners. Data scrolls across his vision, yet doesn't distract him from his contemplation of Harrison. I'm surprised a VARG pilot isn't more used to a HUD, but then he probably hasn't lived with one 24/7 for several years.

"Any particular equipment we'll need for this, or requisition parameters of the office we are going to? Or is that up to this senior agent?"

[knave]

Edmund Carlton-Sandways looks from Greaves' eyes to the chip on the desk. His hands are folded in his lap, one elbow resting casually on the armrest of his chair as he considers the section coordinator's words. Despite the obvious differences between leading a VARG unit and being an IIS operative, the message seems clear and familiar in the former space marine Captain's mind. Assess the situation. Deal with it. Move on.

The athletic, smooth shaven man uncrosses his legs and leans forward a little, reaching for the chip.

"Understood. Will we rendezvous with said agent here or on site?"

As he speaks, Sandways slots the chip into his assigned minicomp, blinking momentarily as the data enters and overlaps with his field of vision, half obscuring the man behind the desk. He cocks his head sideways to counter the effect as he scans the general contents of the chip, handing it on to the next agent in line after transferring the data.

Greaves grins slightly, as if at some private joke. “That’s the spirit.”

“Gentlemen, I’m about to reveal to you part of the secret behind the I.I.S’s considerable success rate.”

And then he says: “Moneypenny, locate and display Senior I.I.S Agent Reynalds.”

Immediately the meeting projector minicomp pings to life and whirrs slightly as its holoshutter opens. A second later you’re looking at a projection of a tall, handsome man wearing a top of the line Kostbaar suit; in his late thirties you’d guess. He appears to be in a tastefully decorated, if somewhat small, arcology apartment, and is staring off to his left.

”Senior agent Alistair Reynalds currently located at Flat 4, Westminster Gardens, WC12 1AE.” A decidedly feminine voice chimes from the room’s minicomp.

The camera pans to follow Alistair’s line of view to reveal an extremely athletic young brunette wearing a white toweling bathrobe open down the front...

“Cancel image!” For just a fraction of a second Greaves has the good grace to look sheepish. “That’s how easy it is to invade someone’s privacy, Gentlemen.“

“Moneypenny is the I.I.S S.I. She is linked into the ‘Big Brothers’ of every metroplex and every communication hub in the UK. In London that means the security cameras on every thoroughfare, every public building, and in many private homes. Naturally she’s ‘Top Secret’. She can play back anything that happened in the last week; up to the last month for those locations we deem to be particularly sensitive.  She is also programmed to notice suspicious behaviour, and to track individuals on our watchlists including all visiting psions. Moneypenny’s functions are available via secure link throughout the UK.

You’ve all signed the NDAs for Top Secret information.  As far as you’re concerned, this is our biggest secret.  Anyone can see the visible ‘prevention cameras’ out in the open, but that’s not even a tenth of them.  Any BHG or police officer can get access to those records.  Moneypenny is for our use only. Use her wisely.”

“In answer to your question however, Agent Reynalds will meet you at the Paddington MagLev in one hour.”

Taking the datachip carefully by opposite corners from his colleague, Geogre briefly turns it over in his fingers, staring intently at it, before slotting it into his minicomp. [OOC try to combine his micro/telescopic and ir/thermal vision to see if he can pick up the former Captains fingerprints on the chip, and if so store them on the minicomp.

George does indeed manage to take a partial thumb print from the chip - proving once again that you never can be too careful around security operatives.

"Any particular equipment we'll need for this, or requisition parameters of the office we are going to? Or is that up to this senior agent?"

Greaves turns to George:

“Reynalds will be present only to evaluate your performance. His instructions are to intervene only when you’ve placed the cat in the microwave, closed the door and disabled the pet sensor. If he initiates anything that seems overly proactive you’re either in deep shit, or he’s being a tosser and you can tell him to pipe down before I hand him another iron lung.”

“Right now this assignment is classified as an investigation with priority level 4 out of a possible 5. You may requisition what you need, but I suggest you do it of the locals if and when you find you do actually have a clear and present need.”

[OOC

IIS Priority Levels:

1: Danger to the Crown and State.

2: Danger to Major Infrastructure and life.

3: Danger to Minor Infrastructure and life.

4: Danger to individual citizenry.

5: Suspicious Activities.

What's on the datachip?

That would be the Medical Examiner's reports on the dead people already posted, along with gruesome pictures of the bodies with the skin of the hands and heads (from the neck up) completely removed.

]

[Asbjørn]

Edmund grins at the apparently bad timing of Moneypenny's demonstration, composing his features to only a small amused smile as Greaves goes on. He nods in understanding to the coordinator's answers, still at ease and relaxed in his seat. When Greaves goes quiet, he raises his head and says "Moneypenny?"

"I'd like to ask that should I find myself in similar company as Agent Reynalds just now, please inform the would-be observer of the situation before showing them the actual footage?"

"So much better to avoid embarassing situations if at all possible," he adds with a polite smile to Greaves.

[knave]

Edmund grins at the apparently bad timing of Moneypenny's demonstration, composing his features to only a small amused smile as Greaves goes on. He nods in understanding to the coordinator's answers, still at ease and relaxed in his seat. When Greaves goes quiet, he raises his head and says "Moneypenny?"

"I'd like to ask that should I find myself in similar company as Agent Reynalds just now, please inform the would-be observer of the situation before showing them the actual footage?"

"Request acknowledged Agent Carlton-Sandways." Whoever modelled for the S.I.'s voice sounds completely gorgeous... actually it sounds a bit like Siren Sassy, the Anima DJ Diva. "Should you be in the company of a young, partially dressed woman, any observers using my systems will be informed prior to image display."

Greaves can't but help crack an embarrassed smile smile at this point. ::blush

"So much better to avoid embarassing situations if at all possible," he adds with a polite smile to Greaves.

"Oh, get out! You have a job to do!" ::tongue Greaves' exasperation is clearly far from sincere. ::tongue

You can hear him muttering about 'bloody field agents' as you leave.