125 posts in this topic

Right, that's 15 people!  This means we can start.  Unfortunately, I'm going to be occupied for the next two days, so we'll be starting at 6pm GMT on Thursday.  Hype!

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Thursday's good, but I want you to know I won't be super-active until Saturday. Shouldn't be a problem but..yeah

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Timer has been updated, sorry for not getting around to that sooner >>

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N held tight onto the bundle of papers in her arms as she walked up to the meeting room door, swiping her ID card against the scanner, allowing her access to one of the most top secret areas of MI9.  The door slid open with a slick sound and she entered, taking a quick account of who had arrived.  The table was long, dark, with the seats on either side only partially filled.  A single rose was laid down in front of one of the vacant seats.

 

“Ah, N.  Good to see you,” opened the Prime Minister, seated opposite to where N herself would be sitting.

“Thank you, Mr Prime Minister,” she replied, taking her own seat and laying her papers done one the smooth black cloth of the table.  The table, which had just been in a muted conversation, quieted and everyone looked to her, waiting for her to speak.  She glanced over at the rose.

“Glad to have you here,” she started. “We are here today to discuss the potential of a vole in MI9, as discussed by both Smith and Peter in recent reports.  Peter claims that Smith himself was the vole, and ended up in a firefight resulting in Smith’s death.  I, for one, don’t think that claim is valid.  So the first point of order is to discuss how to find the vole.  Or voles.  We can’t discount the possibility of there being many.”

The woman sitting next to the Prime Minister cleared her throat and began to speak.  She was the head of the European division of MI9, and N had heard her discussing the matter with some of her assistants - not necessarily cleared but not too much of an issue in the grand scheme of things.  It was useful when people were informed as well.  “I still think we need to involve the other European leaders - the French president, German chancellor and all the rest.  As much as this is an issue for MI9, a vole here means its likely their intelligence agencies will have been infiltrated as well.  We all know this isn’t just some national spy either, this is an agent from some kind of organisation we barely have grips with. Virtually every national agency is at risk.” The Prime Minister nodded to himself in response.  The man sitting opposite from the European head, the Minister for Home Affairs, however, seemed less at ease with the idea.

“This is a British issue for a British agency.  This isn’t something we need to worry our allies with.  We also can’t have our weaknesses seen either.  We don’t want to expose ourselves.”

“I suggest we at the least tell them to look out for the possibility of a vole from some power beyond our current understanding.  It’s the least we could do for them as our allies.” the European head shot back.  The Minister looked thoughtful, placing his hand under his chin, then nodded.

“That seems acceptable to me.”

“It’s agreed then.” the European head responded.

“Has anyone any issues with this?” N asked, addressing the whole table.  Nobody raised their voice to complain. “It’s done then.”  She opened up one of her folders and made some notes, reminding herself to send out that memo later.  Several of the others at the table did the same.

“Does anyone else have any ideas?”
“I don’t see what else we can do until we have much more information,” suggested the head of the department of intelligence, resident data analyst of the board.  His suggestion was met with a series of nods.

“It seems everyone agrees then.  We will have to reconvene at a later date to collate what we’ve gathered.”  Further nodding.

 

“Next, I would like to discuss the few leads we have on a possible parent organisation of these voles.  The notes Smith left mentions an entity called ‘Gemini’.  Have any of you heard of it before?”

Only the data analyst had. “The name appeared a few times when we were uploading all those old files onto the system.  Lots of minor crimes, but all linked to someone called Gemini.  We didn’t think much of it - they were from something like the 40s.  Not much you can do with that unfortunately.”

“So we’re looking at something older making a reappearance?”
“Possibly, though it’s just as likely to be something new.  Gemini isn’t exactly an unintuitive name for organisation.”

“That is true.  Unfortunately I don’t have much more information on the matter on hand.  I have a few scraps from Smith’s notes, but he didn’t have a lot on it.  I’ll add this to the notes for next meeting.  Do you think you could retrieve those records from the old files?”
“Should be easy enough, yeah.”
“Do so.  We can use as much information as possible.”
“Will do.”
“Now, has anyone else got anything they need to discuss?”

Shaking of heads.

“All right.  Meeting adjourned.”

Everyone stood up from the table and left the room.

----

Welcome to QF21!
I'm doing PMs now so don't worry if you don't get one immediately.

The Cycle will last 24 hours, ending at 6pm GMT Friday 27th January

Remember, no game discussion in thread, but RP is okay.

And.... begin!

blu_1485540000.png

Player List:

Spoiler

Joe Bond - Magestar
Jason Bored - DroughtBringer
Fith Nameless - Ecthelion III
39214 - The Young Bard
Doc Oleny and Joseph Busshu - A Joe in the Bush
Dolan Mist - Conquestor
Justin Time - The Mighty Lopen
Desmond Isaac King - Amanuensis
Niobe - Seonid
Ryth - Silverblade5
John Marshall - Drake Marshall
Stick Stick - I_am_a_Stick
Arin "White Eye" - Arinian
Alex Strider - Assassin in Burgundy
Yiferien - Daniyah
Loyde - Darkness Ascendant

 

Edited by Alvron
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Joseph bit the pin, yanked it out of the flash bang, and chucked it backwards over the metal filing cabinet. One of the guards yelled a warning, but most of it was drowned out by the resounding bang. Joseph himself could no longer hear. But hearing wasn’t necessary to pull the trigger and shoot them while they were blind.

Unfortunately, one of the gat’s had the presence of mind to open fire where Joseph had been hiding. Most of the bullets hit the metal cabinet with plings! but one found it’s way through his left arm. “Brahka.” The muttered curse was all the comfort he allowed himself before continuing to kill the rest of them.

By the time his hearing had returned. He had taken one of the illegally modified fully automatic rifles from the corpses, and stuck one of their earpieces into his left ear. It was supposed to go in his right ear, so it wasn’t a perfect fit, but that’s where his real Earpiece was.

“Wow, I think the Yakuza could hear that all the way in Japan Bush. What happened to being the Stealth Monster?”

“For the last Noking time Fay, I was never a member of the Yakuza. And they knew I was coming.”

There was that stupid tittering laugh on the other side of his earpiece before Fay replied. “Well, they’re closing the gate to the co- Wait, elevator’s heading down to your floor from the barracks. Joke later, move now. Two floors up and a room to your north is where they’re holding Doc.”

“Received.” Joseph flicked the switch on his mouthguard that contained his mic and left the room, shooting out camera’s as he went. He didn’t have time for anything more subtle right now. This extraction had gone in the gat pretty much as soon as he’d broken in. He’d expected it though. Which is why he’d come prepared.

He managed to reach the elevator before it got to his floor. He unclasped his belt of mini grenades, flipped all the pins up to where they could easily be pulled, and got out his roll of Duct tape. Ten seconds and two stretches of tape later, he was knocking over two more filing cabinets to hide behind.

He sat in the corner, with the filing cabinets wedged into the wall, and plugged his ears. There was a muffled ding as the elevator arrived, and the doors opened. There was a distinct clicking noise, as the pins of all ten grenades, duct taped to one side of the elevator, were pulled from their grenades, duct taped to the door.

A boom, and a whumph of air rattled the Filing cabinets. Something, a side table probably, hit the two cabinets and shattered. Joseph listened carefully for any other sounds, but there was nothing other than the relaxing crackle of fire beginning to spread. He peaked over the cabinets, and was rewarded with nearly a dozen blackened corpses of Security guards.

He flicked the mic in his mouth again. “Hey, how many guards are on Tybalt’s payroll?”

“‘Bout a gross, but only 3 dozen are on site at any given time. How many did you just kill?”

“I’m up to 15 now. That should just leave the ones at the gate and the ones guarding Doc right?”

“It’s Tybalt Transportation Bush, You really think that they put all the guards on the public payroll?”

He sighed. Wishful thinking. Well, at least he had a nice Elevator to work with now. He flicked the mic off again, jumped the cabinets, stepped over the dead, and into the elevator. It was an easy one, built up to Ontario Building Code. He’d memorized the blueprints for this this shaft as soon as he learned that Doc was being sent to steal Data from the place. He was through the emergency roof exit and climbing the maintenance ladder before the fire had time to spread further.

It took him longer than it should have, since every other rung involved putting weight on his wounded arm, but he’d fought through worse pain. He probably should stop to wrap it at some point though. He stopped three floors up, and flicked the mic back on. “Fay, is there anyway through this floor that doesn’t involve me being seen by camera’s?”

“Hmm. . . There’s a backup generator two floors down, so an EMP can’t turn off the cameras, they’re all within view of at least two others, one’s looking right at the elevator doors, and this floor is the barracks floor. So no.”

Noka. Any guards?”

“You blew ‘em all.”

Joseph snarled into his mic, then flicked it off as Fay tittered again. Then he cut four wires, wrapped two together, and stuck a battery to the end of another. Crude, but effective. The doors slide open, and Joseph jumped from the ladder into the hallway.

“Your Freelancers, can’t take a joke. Anyway, down the hall, third door on your left. That should put you above where they’re holding Doc. I assume that’s where you’re heading?”

He wasn’t assuming, he was trying to outguess Joseph’s moves. So instead, he kicked down the fourth door entered the messy barracks, and knelt down knelt to the wall adjoining the third room, pulling out the brick of C4 he’d been given. “You still have camera’s?” When there was no reply, Joseph punched the wall, crunching through plaster. “Noka me” He flicked his mic on and repeated the question, blowing on his aching fist.

“Yeah. They know where you are. Got guns pointed at you, waiting for you to blow your way through. There are two in the cell with Doc. Dude’s strung up and grinning like a loon. Friggin masochist.”

“Yeah, Oleny’s enjoying himself right about now I’d say. Hey Fay,” he tapped the earpiece he had taken from one of the guards, “how come I’m not hearing anything from this?”

“Uh, checking, yeah, these are eFPee Tech. Linked to the guards heart monitors. The guard dies, the piece dies. See if you can’t bring one home for R&D to tinker with.”

Joseph blinked. “They have heart monitors?”

“Yeah?”

“Wouldn’t setting off the EMP fry their communications then?”

“. . . Huh. Yours as well though.”

“Blessed Silence? Do it now.” Joseph activated the 10 second timer on the C4.

There was a snort from Fay, then, “three, two , one, engag—-”

There was a high pitched whine, as everything went dark, then emergency power flickered back to life as Backup generators turned on. Joseph grabbed the C4, and sprinted out of the room. Shoulder rammed the door open, threw the C4 into the middle of the room, then dived back down the hallway as it went off.

There were yells from below as he jumped to his feet, slung the stolen rifle off of his shoulder, and jumped into the hole, shooting guards who had been facing the wrong room. He killed the two on the floor, knocked there by the blast, then, ignoring Doc Oleny’s leer, begin systematically shooting all the other guards in the room. Most had been prepared for the blast, but they had taken shelter from the wrong direction. They hadn’t been told that Joseph was changing positions. He made short work of them all.

“That was fun Bush! Always good to see you in action.” Doc was grinning. Cut up and burned and chained to the floor and the remnant of the ceiling, but grinning.

“Shut up Doc. Did you get the intel?”

“I did! And then it was taken from me. But I did learn some things that TT knew about us.”

“Don’t care.”

“5 million dollars.”

Joseph stopped scanning the room, then crouched down. “What?”

Doc actually looked serious for once. “I’ll pay you Joseph. Tybalt Transportations, they were buying inside information. Double agents. Spies among the spies. Protect me, serve me, and I’ll pay you 5 million dollars.”

Joseph mused about it for a second, then asked “Are you asking me to kill the double agents, or help protect your fellow double agents?”

Doc grinned. “The fact that you thought to ask that means i made the right choice. Take the offer or leave it Bush.” He stuck out one manacled hand.

“Alright. Let’s negotiate an actual contract, and then sure. It’ll be fun hunting down noking spies, traitors or no.”

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I bringing chaos where ever I stay you can say, but you will be wrong, cause that just another kind of order. Living room looked like pile of trash, scattered on the couch and floor stacks of documents, tubes and flasks with acids.  Half eaten sandwich and cup of coffee was dangerously close to flask with poison, probably someone else would be more worried about this but that was usual for my flat. And all these things could flare up in a moment and maybe it would have happened  if I hadn't remembered about active gas burner. Well, at least I made a good run through half of the city, good for health.

Hour later I sipped coffee in nearby diner. And looked through some top secret documents in them were written blah blah blah double agents infiltrated into the structure of the organization, be careful and blah  blah blah cautious... That's was very interesting thing to read, I almost fall asleep but coffee saved me from that. Anyway today was many work to do, you know spying on people, killing them... probably.

Edited by Arinian
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Two weeks later. "I finally found that darn file!" Drolan said. "You found what file?" his captain asked. "That one Warcraft file I was looking for." "Your on duty right now Drolan, no video games." "Sorry sir." Whew that was a close one. Now let's see what that file has in it, a person named Ryliner.

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Bzzzt.

Justin shot awake with a feeling that something was wrong. It was his watch. The Agency had sent him a message. They only use the watch for extreme emergencies. He opened the message, and knew that things were going to be messy. Smith had been killed, and there was information that Double Agents had infiltrated the Agency. They'd narrowed down where the Double Agents could be to 15 Agents. His mission was to find out which of them were traitors. The message deleted itself after 30 seconds.

There was only one thing to do. He had to change location. If there were Double Agents, he'd have to go into deep cover. He hurriedly put his suit on and gathered what gear he could take. He opened his suitcase and began to pack: two pistols with silencers. Sniper rifle, un-assembled. Ammo. Multiple knives. Grenades: gas and flash bang. Lethal and sleep inducing drugs. Wire and rope. Passports. Some Skittles in case he got hungry.

That's everything. He'd get more gear when he found a suitable location. For now, he needed to be on the move.

Finally, he thought. A mission that might actually prove to be a challenge.

Justin walked down the three flights of stairs and through the lobby of his apartment building. As he crossed the street, an explosion sounded behind him and shook the ground. As he stumbled away from it, he turned and saw where it came from.

His apartment. So, an attack had already been made on his life. Looks like he'd made it out...just in time.

Edit: forgot to add the last part. :P

Edited by TheMightyLopen
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"Dum dum dum dum dumdum dum dum dum dum dumdum

TU TU TUUUU TU TU TUUU

dum dum dum dum dumdum dum dum dum dum dumdum"

"SHUT UP LOYDE"

"huh?" said Loyde, "I was doing it again wasn't I?"

"Seriously man, being a spy is serious business"

"No, being a pie is serious business"

--------------------------------------------------

The swallow flies underground for doomsday.

That's code for WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE.

Just kidding folks.

Anyway. <transmission intercepted by Hydra>

HEIL HYDRA

Edited by Darkness Ascendant
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56 minutes ago, Darkness Ascendant said:

GAME TALK! SEDITION! TREASON! LEAKAGE OF CONFIDENTIAL SECRETS! BREACHES OF PROTOCOL! OH NO!!!! 

-Darkness Ascendant

Quote

Thread

The main thread is solely for information from the GM which is shared with all players which includes write-ups, and if anyone wants to, RP.  This means that there should be no game related talk in thread

 

< Encrypted Transmission received>

<transmission decrypted>

<Message plays>

Mi9 cheerfully reminds all personnel that there is to be no game talk in thread . Talk about your exploits all you want and at your own discretion, but please use the proper encrypted channels for your vital intelligence and strategizations. Mi9 wishes to advise that any dissident agents caught discussing vital intelligence like this again will be disavowed, dissed,  and made to disappear! Mi9 wishes to express its disappointment in you should said destruction and discharge occur. :) 

Good luck, agents! Practice safe disposal of corpses, proper table manners and hygiene, and please remember to practice proper communication safety, such as the usage of ciphers and code words! And most of all, remember mi9s watchword - In Paranoia we Trust! :)  

Rutabaga

<Transmission ends>

 

Edited by Doc12
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no game talk in thread....

um ok, I guess I missed that.

I'll hide my previous post

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A quick addition to "C"'s role action:

The PMs you started with are referred to as Primary PMs, with all PMs created by "Contacts" or by the Double Agents being referred to as Non-Primary PMs.  Suppose two people, F and G, have a Primary PM.  If a "C" elects to redirect one of F's PMs and the RNG selects a Primary PM, the PM will be closed and neither F nor G will have access to it.  However, everyone must have 2 Primary PMs at all times (the exception to this being if a Bureaucrat has blocked off one of the PMs).  Thus, a new PM is created between G and a random non-F player which serves as a new Primary PM.

Edited by AliasSheep
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N was tired.

“And this is all the details you could find?” she asked the data analyst.
“Yes, unfortunately,” he replied, motioning to the stack of files on the desk in front of her. “We received some more reports as well.  Apparently they have connections with a business known as Tybalt Transportations over in the States, though they have branches all over the world.  We also have reports of a recent attack on one of their branch offices, a Doc Oleny if you’ve heard of him?  Someone suggested he might be one of ours, but I’m not, of course, at liberty with that information.”
“He is one of ours, yes.”
“Ah.”
“You think he’s dangerous?”
“He is, but that shouldn’t be an issue.”
N looked to the rest of the table.  “Thoughts?”

“If he’s making attacks on collaborators with our enemies I see no issue with it” replied the Prime Minister.
“We don’t know if Tybalt are actually collaborating or simply being used.  It could be that he’s one of the voles.” replied the Minister.
N sighed.  “It’s probably best if we leave him be for now.”
“Agreed.” responded the data analyst.  “If there are later issues we can deal with them then.”
“All right.  Now, I need to discuss another of our agents, Loyde.  At least two agents have reported them to me under suspicion of being one of the voles.”

“Do you think they’re trustworthy?” replied the Prime MInister
“They have a good reputation in the agency.  I think I believe them.”
“It might be appropriate to remove them from service.” mumbled the head of Human Resources.

“I agree. I’ll organise that as soon as possible.  In addition, another agent named Fifth Nameless has gone silent.  Any suggestions on what to do with them?”
“Cut contact, cut resources, cut supplies.  Either they’re dead or they’ve gone rogue.”

“Done.” N jotted this down in her notes.  “I believe that’s all for today. I will look over these files tonight and see if I can find anything interesting.  We’ll meet again at the same time tomorrow.”
The table nodded.  Everyone stood up and left the room.
This was bad.  This was really bad.  Voles in MI9 and everyone on edge with no idea about what was going on.  N needed a cup of tea.

---------

<Transmission received>
<playing transmission>

[music plays] And now for a word from Mi9!

Mi9 wishes to greet you, and proclaim the mandatory announcements for the day.

Mi9 has realized it has no mandatory announcements for today. Do not be so quick to show your relief, agents. Mi9 trained you better than that. Keep that poker face on, agent [redacted]!

In any case, please stay tuned for the following missives from your fellow agents. Mi9 wishes to issue a reminder,  once again, that the Missive announcement system is not to be used for: Asking fellow agents out, announcements of the football scores, [redacted for sensitive information],  [redacted for nsfw reasons], your confessions - drunken or lucid, [redacted for fun],  or playing the James Bond/Mission impossible/Johnny English theme on loop. The missive announcement system is not your personal radio station, so keep that in mind, agent [redacted] . Ahem.

Commence messages!

[static]

[MESSAGE ONE BEGINS ]
This is Justin. I'm in contact with Joe Bond and Ryth. Not much chatter. Things are looking bleak. I need more information. I've revealed my role and contacts with both contacts, but they have yet to do the same. Mission will fail without more communication.  Joe Bond viewed message before me, but has yet to respond. Hasn't been around since the beginning. Ryth sent a couple short messages, but no substance to them, so I'm attempting to take him down. No more time, I've got to go. It's tea time. Over and out.
[MESSAGE ONE ENDS]

[MESSAGE TWO BEGINS ]
If I'm not misunderstanding the rules, no one would know who posted this. If I find a missive suspicious, how would I connect it to the person who sent it so that I could vote for them, unless they've claimed in a PM what they'd be talking about?
Anyway, the Elims need to have PMs with every living player, which means Bureaucrats would be quite useful; just pick the person you find suspicious and cut their PMs off. :P
I would be keeping an eye on those whom I get new PMs from, though I'm aware of the existence of Contacts.
[MESSAGE TWO ENDS ]

[MESSAGE THREE BEGINS ]
Suggesting everyone reveals PM's. It will help catch Elims with high numbers of PM's, or prevent them from making too many. I have PM's with Seonid, Conquestor.
Contacts: Set up trust group - we need information. Worth risk, IMO.
C: Direct PM's between 2 best guesses for Elim - Elims gain nothing if you're right.
Bureaucrat: Use on most suspicious player.
Hacker: If you find PM that isn't marked in Missives, be suspicious of PM Creator.
No suspicions right now. Mild trust on RP'ers.
Creating alias to use in case I need to reveal I wrote missives. Suggesting others do same.
Buckbeak
[MESSAGE THREE ENDS ]

Yes, that means you lot can clear off now. Mi9 warns it's agents to practice safe drinking and brawling. And with that done, I can go get my own drink…

Oh, and the code word of the day is: cabbage.

Over and out.
<Transmission ends>

---------------------------

(Thank you Doc for the Mi9 section)
Darkness Ascendant has been lynched!  They were a
 Spy "Coffee".
Mi9 has fired Ecthelion III for poor performance! They were a Spy "Contacts".

Vote tally:
Darkness Ascendant (2): Stick, Arinian
Silverblade5 (1): The Mighty Lopen

Cycle 2 has now begun!  You have 24 hours!

Have fun!

blu_1485626400.png

Player List:

Spoiler

Joe Bond - Magestar
Jason Bored - DroughtBringer
Fith Nameless - Ecthelion III Spy "Contacts"
39214 - The Young Bard
Doc Oleny and Joseph Busshu - A Joe in the Bush
Dolan Mist - Conquestor
Justin Time - The Mighty Lopen
Desmond Isaac King - Amanuensis
Niobe - Seonid
Ryth - Silverblade5
John Marshall - Drake Marshall
Stick Stick - I_am_a_Stick
Arin "White Eye" - Arinian
Alex Strider - Assassin in Burgundy
Yiferien - Daniyah
Loyde - Darkness Ascendant  Spy "Coffee"

 

Edited by Alvron
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Another note:
As a result of the "must have 2 PMs" thing, if a player is lynched, the two people they have PMs with will also be connected, as would happen if someone died to the inactivity filter.

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Tybalt Transportations? Awesome! Hey guys, if you RP, you get to affect the Cycle titles!

That said, Joseph Busshu does not know my alignment. Any and all RP will be non-alignment indicative. I got sheep's permission to post that.

Also, if anyone wants to use Fay, they can. 

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Just now, A Joe in the Bush said:

Tybalt Transportations? Awesome! Hey guys, if you RP, you get to affect the Cycle titles!

That said, Joseph Busshu does not know my alignment. Any and all RP will be non-alignment indicative. I got sheep's permission to post that.

Also, if anyone wants to use Fay, they can. 

The title is relevant to the write-up I'm doing, I just... need to write it.

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Joe Bond took out his Snoiper Roifle.  He smoiled.  He had roicently reseyeved information that the enemy were disgoising themselves as sheep, so he had added a shearing feature to his roifle, which was now a little heavier than he loiked.  Still, he enjoy'd using Snoiper Roifles, so as long as he could get the job done with it, he’d be foine.  He repositioned his roifle, and looked down from his perch on top of a buildin’.  He smoiled again.  A sheep was crossing the road.  He took careful aim, and fired.  Joe grinned.  Not a single li'l sheep was gettin' past him.

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.eJwVyFEOgyAMANC7cABqOkTqbQgSNNOW0Jp9mN1

Agent Desmond Isaac King, A.K.A. Silvertongue, reviewed his latest message from headquarters with a equal mixture of interest and confusion. This wouldn't be his first time hunting ninjas, of course. He had just spent a couple years in Japan, and during his exploits there, he often crossed paths with a clan or two. But considering he was now in California on an agency sanctioned R&R, it seemed an odd request.

Then again, he had once heard of a rather infamous ninja in the area, one who sources claim has never been seen in person. If not for her activity on various forums across the internet, in which she bragged about the insane heists and incredible assassinations she's pulled off, people would think a ghost was responsible for the spree of crimes she's committed. Last he remembered, she went by the name of some kind of elvish poem dedicated to some goddess of the stars in the life's work of Tolkien. The series was well loved, especially after the movies were released, which were filmed in New Zealand. Like many ozzy's, Desmond wasn't very fond of kiwis, but he did have to admit, their country was rather beautiful.

Tangent aside, Des couldn't help but wonder if this was all some kind of joke. The sender did ask him to eat the message, after all. He knew the phone they issued him was a BlackBerry, but they couldn't expect him to actually eat it, could they? Unless it was a test of loyalty, but why would they bother? They all knew about the condition that made it impossible for him to lie. Hell, it was the primary reason they hired him to begin with! The only logical explanation was that someone else had sent the message. This phone was heavily encrypted and connected only to another device just like it, which belonged to his boss, who went by the alias Sheep. He wasn't a jokester himself, though he did hang around a man who rarely did anything but mock people. What was his place in the Agency, anyway? Aside from his codename, Doc12, Des suddenly realized he knew nothing about the man. That was dangerous. But of course, at his rank it wasn't his place to ask.

What could he do? The way he saw it, he only had three options. Follow one order and hope the other was a joke, follow both and deal with the stomach ache that would surely come after, or follow neither and continue lounging on the beach with a martini in hand.

Torn, Desmond sipped his drink and continued to stare off to where the sky met the sea upon the horizon. There was no time limit to this mission, it seemed, so if he took a little time off, he supposed no one would care too much...

Edited by Amanuensis
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---------------------

Anglesey, Wales

---------------------

The bar was simple, but pretty, a small construction on a lonely beach in the middle of nowhere.  How it got power, Jason had no idea, he simply knew that it was the best bar for miles.  It was the only bar for miles.

“A martini, stirred, not shaken.”

“Coming right up, Mr Bored.” The bartender set to work making up the cocktail and Jason looked out over the beach.  The stars were out and the sky was cloudless, and only the dim lights from the open ended bar challenged their brilliant shining.  The waves, the tide.  The noise soothed him.  It was perfect.  There were people talking around the bar, of course, but it was quiet at this time of night, at this time of the year.

“Your drink, sir.”
“Thank you.”

“Will you pay with cash or by card, sir.”
“Card.”  Jason handed the card over to the man and then looked back over the vast sea. Somewhere over there was Ireland.  A beautiful place.  So close and yet in human terms, so far away.  He heard a beeping noise from behind the counter.  Then again.  He turned around to see the bartender looking somewhat confused.

“The card seems to be invalid, sir.”
“That doesn’t make sense, I used it just a few minutes ago.”
“It reads as invalid.  I’m afraid we can’t accept it as payment.”

Jason put his drink down. “Can you put it on a tab.  I’m going to go and see if I can get some cash from where I’m staying.”

“Of course, Mr Bored.”


Jason trudged up the beach sand, the moonlight guiding him up to the small patch that had been cleared from the nearby forest, where several small lodges had been set up, in a sort of community.  At least one of the residents stayed there permanently, though Jason himself only dropped in from time to time.  He walked up to his and opened it with his key, then pushed the door ajar, entering and then closing it behind him.  He turned the light switch on to find a gun pointed at his forehead.


“MI9 handles agent retirement perfectly well.  You know exactly how it is done.  And this is not that.”

“I… I can explain!”

“No, no you can’t.  You deserted.  That is unacceptable.”

The agent pulled the trigger.

Everything went black.

Jason woke up with a start.  His eyes hurt.  He couldn’t remember anything.  There was someone leaning over above him, grinning madly.

“Welcome to Dublin!”


-------------------------------------

MI9 Headquarters, Liverpool

-------------------------------------

Ryth’s head hurt.  Ryth’s back hurt.  Ryth’s sides hurt, feet hurt, legs hurt. Ryth’s everything hurt.

“Who are you working with?” someone shouted at them.  Ryth could feel her breath against their neck.  Ryth opened their eyes.  They had no idea who it was.

“W-what?”

“Who. Are. You. Working. With.  We know you’re the vole, Ryth.  If you tell us who sent you then we can be more lenient with you.”
Ryth?  The vole? Preposterous!
“Me?  What are you talking about?”

Ryth had been working to find the voles, those filthy double agents, and they were most certainly not one themself.

“You’re the vole, Ryth.  We have at least 2 other agents providing evidence that you were sharing classified information.”
“I did no such thing.”

“Ryth, there’s no point in arguing it.”
“It’s Agent Ryth to you.”
“You lost the right to that title the moment you betrayed us.  Now tell us what you know or we will be forced to take much more drastic action.”
“What can I tell you?!  I don’t know anything!”
The woman punched Ryth.

“I DON’T KNOW ANYTHING.” Ryth shouted out.

“Very well then.”  The woman punched Ryth again.  And then again.  By the time the pain had numbed, Ryth had forgotten who they even were.


----------------------------

Secret Meeting Room

----------------------------

“And with those two agents dealt with, we can move to the most interesting part of this meeting.  Upon searching Ex-Agent Jason Bored’s belongings, we found a collection of files - information that he’d been stealing from  MI9’s records.  There were also some contacts written down, and looking over his phone and email records, we found that he’d been sharing that information with some of his higher ups.  I had some of the people in my department track the contacts we found, and they led us to an organisation known as Aries.  With a little digging, we found that they were owned by the same person who owns Tybalt, who we’re calling Gemini-Aries.  This organisation, Aries, was also linked to an attack on a civilian building somewhere to the west the other day, where Agent Time was known to be using as a residence.  I believe that they’re preparing to make a full on attack on MI9, if not the entire world  This is very dangerous.”

“Thank you, John,” N replied.  The data analyst had gone well beyond the minimum, as per usual. “See what else you can find.  Otherwise, I believe that’s all for today.  I believe it’s a given that you should contact the other intelligence agencies now,” she said, directing her voice towards the European Division head.
“Understood, ma’am.”

“We’ll reconvene tomorrow to discuss what further action should be taken.  It seems, unfortunately, that our agents are dropping like flies.”

Everyone stood up, but as N went to leave, she heard someone clear their throat behind her.  She turned around to see the head for Human Resources trying to get her attention.

“Is there anything I can help you with, Anne?”

“It’s about the new interns you got us, I think your sister and one of her friends?” she mumbled back.

“That’s right.  Have they been acting up?”

“One might say that…  They’ve decided that they’ve formed their own department.  Your sister claimed she had clearance from you so I let her go ahead with it, but I wanted to check with you.”
“Department?  What department?”
“WWMNBQ Department, ma’am.”

“W-wanna BBQ department, what?”
“That’s how they pronounce it, ma’am.”
“Do you know what it means?”
“They’ve conveniently abstained from actually telling anyone.”

“How pleasant of them.  What are they actually doing?”

“The other reason I didn’t bring this up earlier.  They seem to know about the voles.  Not only that, they seem to be actively trying to find them.  They’re coordinating large groups of agents in order to get the agents to find the voles.”

“They’re what.  Is it working?”

“They’re the ones who found out Agent Bored, ma’am.”
“They did what?

“They claimed to have known from the beginning, only telling us now.”
“That’s… interesting.  Grill them for more information.  See if you can get anything out of them.”

“Affirmative, ma’am.  Oh, and one other thing.”

“Your sister seems to have some bizarre idea of being a sheep.  I’m not… I’m not sure where she got it from.
N looked at her blankly.

“And the other one, her friend, refuses to be referred to as anything other than ‘Mi9’, no pronouns or anything.  It’s very confusing, ma’am.”
“I… I’ll talk to her about that if I get the chance.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“You’re free to go.”

“Have a good day, ma’am.”  The head walked off.

N turned towards the door.  She stopped, then shook her head and walked off.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

<transmission begins>

[Music plays]

Mi9 greets you, agents, and brings you the missives of the day! Also, suspiciously sly sheep sneakily spy and slip into secret communications. (That’s a code, in case you didn’t notice.) Be suspicious of random sheep who ninja conversations. Be very suspicious.

Fact. Sheep are known to be sly and sneaky. And suspicious. A documentary was made about that once. It’s called Zootopia, I believe. Don’t trust random sheep. Really. In other news, sniper rifles have all been issued cutting-edge shear bullets. This is not related in anyway to Mi9’s suspicions. But keep these bullets at the ready.
 

And in case this message gets hacked, no, I am not referring to the illustrious ‘N’ or anyone related to her. Nope. Completely different ninja Sheep. Yes. Mi9 is prepared to disavow anything said in this announcement.

Anyway, the missives. Right.

[Message 1 plays]

*static*

“Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
     The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
     The frumious Bandersnatch!”
He took his vorpal sword in hand;
     Long time the manxome foe he sought—
So rested he by the Tumtum tree
     And stood awhile in thought.
And, as in uffish thought he stood,
     The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
     And burbled as it came!
One, two! One, two! And through and through
     The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
     He went galumphing back!
*static*

[message ends]

Okay, so which smartmouth decided this was a good idea? Mi9 hopes this agent was in their right mind when they sent this...Perhaps we should consider some...cognitive recalibration. While Mi9 appreciates the valiant efforts to educate their fellow agents on good literature, unless this missive was meant to be some code, heads are going to roll…

Mi9 hopes the agent appreciates what Mi9 did there.

*resumes professional tone


[Message 2]

Everyone needs to post missive, to be held accountable. Curently, I can claim I'm Young Bard, and say something that seems like what Bard would say to implicate him. Bard would deny it and then there's no way to prove who actually said it, except by getting everyone to come forward and say which missive they posted. But since only three people posted anything last cycle, the person pretending to be Young Bard can easily say they didn't send one in.

I am Bush. Connected to Drake and mage. Originally drake and drought, but C targeted me for unknown reasons.

[Message ends]


[Message 3 Begins]

Des here. Sorry for not touching base earlier. Not much to say on my end. I've voted for Agent Bond at the behest of Agent Time. I don't trust Justin, if I'm completely honest, but he's speaking enough sense that I'm willing to give his lead a shot. Opinion might change depending on the results of today. At this point I’m basically suspicious of everybody, but I’m relatively certain that “Buckbeak” is on the Agency’s side, based off of his previous missive. Happy hunting

[Message 3 Ends]


[Message 4 begins]

Justin again. Had a missive finished, then plans changed. I'm voting Mage for meta reasons mostly. If he's a Double Agent, I think Joe is basically cleared. I've got a weird read on Aman, but he's apparently helping me lynch Mage, so depending on how that turns out, that should affect that read a bit. I'm a Contacts. Ecth was a Spy Contacts, and so am I. That's for anyone who wants to guess role distribution. I think it means the Double Agents have got a C role.

[Message 4 ends]


[Message 5 begins]

Slight suspicion on Seonid for dodging saying anything of value in PM- possibly avoiding Elim avoiding inactivity filter? I voted on SB today because I knew that 2 others were also voting on him, and I didn't want the result changed. Please, please everyone stay active/ become active - 3 missives/ 3 votes is terrible, even for Cycle 1. Buckbeak

[Message 5 ends]

On that note, Mi9 is noticing a disconcertingly low amount of missives. If more missives are not sent in by the next cycle, Mi9 shall assume that the comlinks of said agents have been compromised, which is why no missives are being sent. Standard protocol would be to self-destruct said comlinks and send new ones! Do not worry, comlink self-destruction isn’t fatal (usually).

Send more missives!

Don’t trust ninja sheep.

<transmission ends>

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Silverblade5 has been lynched! They were a Spy "C".
Mi9 has fired DroughtBringer for poor performance!  They were a Double Agent "C".

Vote Tally:
Silverblade5 (2): The Young Bard, A Joe in the Bush
Magestar (2): The Mighty Lopen, Amanuensis

DroughtBringer (1): I_am_a_stick
I_am_a_stick (1): Magestar

Silverblade was selected over Magestar for the lynch randomly by RNG.

Cycle 3 has now begun! You have 24 hours!

Have fun!

blu_1485712800.png

Player List:

Spoiler

Joe Bond - Magestar
Jason Bored - DroughtBringer Double Agent "C"
Fith Nameless - Ecthelion III Spy "Contacts"
39214 - The Young Bard
Doc Oleny and Joseph Busshu - A Joe in the Bush
Dolan Mist - Conquestor
Justin Time - The Mighty Lopen
Desmond Isaac King - Amanuensis
Niobe - Seonid
Ryth - Silverblade5 Spy "C"
John Marshall - Drake Marshall
Stick Stick - I_am_a_Stick
Arin "White Eye" - Arinian
Alex Strider - Assassin in Burgundy
Yiferien - Daniyah
Loyde - Darkness Ascendant  Spy "Coffee"

 

Edited by Alvron
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John Marshall was lying in the back of an old pickup truck. Waiting for the right time to strike.

The night vision optics on his AS50 rifle allowed him to see the countryside in perfect clarity. One pull of the trigger would send propel a large explosive round into the target of his choosing. Sometimes the only way to resolve a situation was to take a life.

Scanning his surroundings, he settled his scope on... Sheep. A flock of sheep.

Dastardly little creatures...

John had good intel from the higher-ups of Mi9 itself that these sheep posed a threat to the agency. They hadn't really said which sheep, but John thought these ones looked suspiciously sneaky. He scanned through the flock.

Now... Which one of you is the leader... The infamous ninja sheep... AHA! Gotcha. John's crosshairs settled on a largish specimen with a bell round its neck. "Target sighted," he whispered into his headset. "John, what the hell are you talking about?" a voice responded. Oh, right. This was supposed to just be a recon trip.

Still, this is the ninja sheep itself. There is no time to lose. The longer I stay here, the longer I risk getting caught. I passed a "no trespassing" sign a little while back, and I'm not eager to meet whoever owns these suspicious animals.

John pulled the trigger. A fifty caliber wool-piercing sniper round tore into the poor bellwether, who instantly crumpled. A crack like thunder pierced the night. Baahs of terror followed as the other sheep tried to flee.

Mission accomplished. I taught those sheep a lesson they won't soon forget, and now they don't have a leader. John climbed into the front seat of the pickup truck and sped away, just as he saw a farmer running outside and yelling about his dead sheep.

John hoped Mi9 would be happy.

 

 

Several days later, an unusual headline hit the news. Experts and police alike baffled by what seems to have been a sniper assaulting a random flock of sheep. News agencies continually speculated about who could be responsible for such a well-funded assault on, well, sheep.

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<Transmission intercepted>

Attention all active agents.

Yes, this is Mi9. I am aware that this transmission is unprecedented. But then again, we as an agency face an unprecedented threat. This is an EMERGENCY, ALL POINTS BULLETIN.

We have uncovered the secret of the Double Agents. We have uncovered - their leader. I have found the leader - Gemini-Aries himself - engaged in secret communications with the Double Agents. And who is this Gemini-Aries?

N. Gemini-Aries.

Aries. Sheep.

Now you see the extent of the deception laid before us. Now you see how Zootopia had been right all along. I myself am horrified, having worked with N for so long. Yet now that his treachery is exposed, he seeks to convert all spies to his cause. Our last hope is that the fleece has not been pulled over your eyes, agents. The country depends on you being not sheep, in that you shall begin to make your own decisions.

As N and I are locked in a battle of politics and wits, I regret to say we are at an impasse. We are locked. (He has literally locked the both of us in a cupboard without our weapons). We are trapped.

It is up to you agents. It is up to you

And now, with the power invested in me by the Queen and Country as Mi9, I declare a new operation.

OPERATION BLACK SHEEP

Mission: Disavow Sheep. Continue your search for the Double Agents, but be aware at every turn of his treachery and his deception. Pay no attention to him. By virtue of his treachery, he has disqualified himself from the reins of command. With all the power I have invested in me, I grant you license to ignore N. I grant you license to kill N, and a pardon issued by the Queen herself.

You are allowed clearance to use any weapon you come across in our arsenal. There will be those that Sheep has converted. You will be forced to take up arms against your brethren. I pray that you will have the strength to do so. You have the moral high ground, gentlemen.

Even now, that Bellwether seeks to convert you to his cause. I have chased him through your communications as he sends his treacherous messages to each of you. Even now I suspect he has sent several messages to his sympathizers, the Double Agents which stand against everything you believe.

Sheep has committed HIGH TREASON against Queen and Country, agents. He is a liar, a dissembler, and a consummate politician. My rough words have nothing on him, I admit. Trust to the truth of your hearts, and listen to reason rather than honeyed words. Make the right choice.

I am sorry I cannot assist you further. Good luck agents.

Good luck.

And let it be known that I am very, very proud of you. It has been an honour.

Eyes up. Wise up.

May your instincts shoot straight, and your judgement steer you right.

In Paranoia we Trust.

-Mi9 Out

<Transmission ends>


Yes, Sheep and I have declared war on each other :P. Choose a side, agents. Choose a side. (Note: This should not affect gameplay, it's only RP :P. Do choose a side though!)

Good luck agents!

Edited by Doc12
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> transmission received
> decoding...
> decoding...
> decoding...
> decoded.
> playing message

*panting*

I didn't want to do this.  This announcement was to be made at the coming of the next day, but Mi9 has forced my hand.  I have moved myself into a secure location where Mi9 will not be able to access me.  I don't understand.  I don't understand at all.  One moment they were working with me, the next moment they had a pair of shears in hand trying to kill me.  I don't understand.  I don't understand.  I don't understand.  They were off from the beginning.  You could tell that just by looking at them, that there was something off.  I should have seen this coming though.  Refusing to be called anything but Mi9? The sheep flavoured messages?  The modded sniper rifles with added shears I found?  They were obvious signs. Obvious.  Why didn't I see this sooner?!  Mi9 has lost it completely.  They've lost it.  They've taken control and with that control they're going to bring chaos to the agency and I can't stop them.  Agents.  Please.  I am trapped here. I have nowhere to go.  Mi9 has taken everything.  All my weapons.  All my files, all my data.  Everything.  They're skilled, we all know that.  They are fully capable of doctoring videos, photos, audio logs.  Everything.  Evverything.  You can't trust them.  You can't. Trust them.  Please, agents.  Help me.
 

N out.

> message ended
> deleting message
> message deleted.

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