Counterintelligence Investigation Code Name: Reverie (Gear)

MKR

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Aug 19, 2018
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#1
OE 102
January 28th, 10:00

Location: Dublin, Ireland

A man looking to be in his early forties in a suit smoking a cigarette sat on a piece of rubble, in his hand was what seemed like a phone. And for the most part it was.
The man looked up from the device and threw his smoke into the stone below, crushing it under his heel. Here he stood in Upsilon's greatest failure thusfar. It was quite nice to see history after it happened for once but not when it was a tragedy of this scale.
"Je sais qu'ils sont occupés mais cela devrait vraiment être la tâche de Nephele et Shiro." He mumbled under his breath in frustration. Granted he wasn't busy either, not until his quarry reared its head but that was besides the point. He had something to do and the Directory was not his task to maintain.

But well, with nothing else to particularly do and with this 'lead' being a possibility of their old foes taunting them he had been led here.
The man looked over his phone again, the data had led him here, to the wake of Upsilon's failure. And it was about time to find their little snooper and deal with them before they became an issue.
Putting the phone in his pocket he headed down the direction towards his goal.
 

GEAR

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Jun 15, 2018
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#2
Reconstruction efforts were already underway in Belfast, and even during the morning light the trails from busy construction engines were visible during the stranger's trek. Alkahest's Rujanols were present en massse, lifting away debris, tearing out damage infrastructure, and clearing the roadways for individuals to return to their shattered homes, to reclaim what they could.

It was a cold, crisp morning, and he would find his trek remarkably unimpeded as he followed the signal down and through the abandoned back alleys of the city, the scent of seawater mixing with that of disaster on the air. Clambering over debris, eventually he would make his way to a seemingly abandoned building. No guards emerged to menace him, even as he drew close - and signs indicated its graying, dirt-splattered windows had long since been condemned.

Yet, were he to slip down the side of the building, he would find a set of concrete stairs - perfectly, immaculately clean. A summary descent would yield a door, which would easily give way under his touch. All that was within... was the soft dark, and the faint hum of machinery. The room was bare concrete, save for two things:

A black metal table, upon which was a laptop of some fashion - an older model, its screen lit up with what appeared to be lines of code... And a telephone, one of even older make, judging by its rotary appearance. As soon as the operative stepped into the room, however, another sound joined the distant rumble of construction work, and the whirring of the laptop.

Drrrrring.

The polite, yet insistent ring of an antique telephone.
 

MKR

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#3
As he came close to his destination the man would put on a pair of gloves, whoever's den he was about to enter was someone who had above average tracking skills to say the least. He was not particularly intent on leaving anything for them to go off of let alone something as simple as finger prints. Or even hair, a simple wind spell would take care of that all to make sure no wayward traces were left.
Entering the building had surprised him pleasantly, clean stairs showed that this place had either somehow completely avoided being hit by the devastation outside or was purposefully cleaned. Either way it showed that whoever they were dealing with preferred a clean workspace.

And the rest piqued his interest, he hadn't seen such equipment since the days of his youth and it brought back fond memories. As the phone began to ring he simultaneously enjoyed and noted the noise. Either someone had an eye on this place or there was an automatic trigger. If only he had been back home he could've added this phone to his collection, antiques like this are what led him to the path he was one though not antiques of the same sort.
But alas this was no time to reminisce on days past and worlds gone, now was the time to focus.

One gloved hand would pick up the phone, and while he remained quiet for now he would put his magic to the test, his free hand on the side of the phone.
It was said that the magicks he had adopted as his own had been able to transport people from one 'world' to another, one spell he had found was an inverse of this, not a transportation effect but a location. And since older technology was involved he might get a somewhat accurate location.
All the while his eyes panned to the screen, discerning the purpose of the code.
 

Admin

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#4
As the operative picked up the phone, there was only a short pause before a voice spoke on the other end.

We “meet” at last.

One that would immediately be familiar to anyone who had heard the recent broadcast, flecked with static and obscured with countless filters, yet somehow as clear and articulate as ever.

The man from the other side.

There was a click from the computer’s screen, as it displayed the distinct form of Shadow Mirror’s troops - specifically, from their recent battle in the vicinity of L4.

I don’t want to contemplate the state of the world you came from...” Said Hyperion, “But I can already guess its fate.

Click.

Another image, this one new. A splotch of black on a star map, as though it were leaking, a patch of pitiless void positioned directly over L5 space.

You already understand the consequences of inaction. You know the stakes.

Terra Sentinel’s leader paused, as unhurried yet exacting in his tone as ever. All the while, the unorthodox tracking spell wound its way through the network, whipping through miles of cable buried under concrete, in search of the source - would there be enough time?

Don’t interfere.
 

MKR

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#5
The man silently listened, keeping an eye on the screen as Hyperion did his PowerPoint presentation. Hyperion had been one of the prime suspects of who would be the one that had left the message and this all but confirmed it. It also added a new layer of complexity, the man or woman had created a system for Terra Sentinel that required them and at this stage Terra Sentinel was a vital player, able to start conflict on the surface while the other two major players would need to land from outer space.
Nevertheless he would reply to Hyperion accordingly, by all means this meant the 'mission' was done for now but at the same time, this was a unique opportunity.

As the sound came over the phone the man's features were unmoving, betraying not a hint of these thoughts. He wondered if Hyperion truly knew where they had come from or if this was their method of confirming a theory of his.
A second question was, 'did it matter?'
Did it matter if Hyperion knew their origins, from whence they came? No.

"You speak of consequences of inaction and yet request I do not act." He replied calmly the faintest hint of a french accent in his voice, "You would not have me do that which you motivated every man, woman and child upon this planet and among the stars to do, to seek the truth." The man's voice was calm, while having an opposing stance to Hyperion he did not take an accusatory tone.

"That I cannot do."

"You can, however, consider the mission I hold similar to your own, 'To seek the truth in all things; And, to bring swift justice to those who prey on the weak and innocent.' though our definition of the latter may be different." There was a small pause.
"Though you can guess the fate of the world I came from, what you must know is the truth of how it came to be. That you cannot turn your gaze or your thoughts away from, as unpleasant though it may be."
Each of them had to live with it every day. He had seen men break into tears in those first few years purely because it would have been an important day to a loved one, while some held on strong others could not bear the weight of these dead souls from another world. Which he could understand, it only made sense to cry they had all done it, be it in public or in private.
Yet to lose so much and have a man who could glimpse the shape of the tombstone that was their world say he doesn't wish to contemplate it, that was not seeking truth, that was seeking the glimpse of truth.

"I have a question for you. as one named after the Titan who would understand the movements of the stars first. Can you say how many yet shine in the heavens above?"
His eyes fell on the map of L5, a slight furrow in the man's brow.
"And how many have gone out like candles snuffed before their time?"

If Hyperion could give an answer to this question it was a good thing, if he could not then one of the premier inquisitive minds on this side had just received a truth to contemplate. Either way, this was something they were intending on informing the leaders of the factions about in due time and for the leader of Terra Sentinel, now was that time.
 

Admin

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#6
I’m disappointed.

There was a short laugh on the other end of the line... or, it could full well have been a burst of static, for all the humanity it seemed to contain.

A man of your standing should understand the value of propaganda.” Continued Hyperion;

The Directory is a husk. A corrupt shell that is the puppet of a Lunarian conspiracy... One that seeks the dissolution of sentient life itself, thousands of years in the making.

The screen had turned dark now - perhaps, whatever words the enigma spoke were not scripted, but his own. Of course, from one who placed so much effort on misdirection... that was never a certainty.

Whatever dreams of humanity it once contained... have long since been discarded by the accomplices of fatalism that infest its bloated bureaucracy.

Sometimes... history needs an amputation. And, sometimes... the patient is better off not knowing.”

The implication was delivered dryly, matter-of-factly - how much he truly cared about the Volkruss Cult beyond its use as a tool for rallying support was even more in question.

At the operative’s question, Hyperion’s response was prompt - as if such a thing was already on his mind.

The stars shine as brightly as ever. For how much longer, I cannot say.”

He seemed to contemplate this, but rather than elaborate further... turned his attention back on the subject of his ire.

But, you.” He said,

“The future of this world is ours to reckon with. You failed to protect your charge. You are an afterthought, a post-script, for all intents and purposes: Nothing but ghosts, mourning your own misfortunes.

That is why you will cease. Your fight ended a long time ago.”
 

MKR

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#7
A small smirk played upon the man's features while Hyperion spoke. There was no doubt that this person had tailored their life to one of deceit, from his name to his purpose to his propaganda. Yet in spite of these lies, every word revealed a glimpse more of the entity behind the mask. To call it a person could be called an overestimation depending on one's definition.
"I, likewise, am disappointed. While it is true propaganda carries immense value and with it mere words can be used to amass an army from the common folk. Having the message within contradict one's own actions is a crippling weakness."

His face returned to a neutral position. The conspiracy he noted was peculiar but the man doubted that Hyperion hadn't done his research, it was something to report back and look into.

"A message like a government who aids the everyman instead of the elite sounds appealing to the common man, who see themselves as unheard and believe the world to be rigged against them after such a message. Yet it becomes more and more hollow if one were to take a look at the footage of the operation that even allowed yourself to make that declaration."

"After all, were that not the common folk of Terra Sentinel who were nearly crushed to death by a weapon of Terra Sentinel in a colony drop? If one were to have footage from that event and frame it correctly Terra Sentinel's public support could be ended as soon as it begins." While his tone was neutral the message was clear. They had footage of the happenings at Lantou Island and knew how to frame it for Terra Sentinel to lose public support. For now enough of a threat to leave hanging in the air.

"Such is the power of propaganda. But for all that power it is a two sided sword if treated poorly."

The man paused for a moment. Hyperion's last statement in his thoughts.
"How many of this world's inhabitants you believe came from other places? Are they counted among the 'us' you decree be the only ones allowed to have a say in the future, those who had no choice but to end up here get no say in what tomorrow holds?" His fingers on the phone handle slightly increasing their grip.

"If you believe yourself able to best what is coming without having any information on the enemy that is responsible then the same fate awaits you that it did for us. Bitter defeat. Call us ghosts all you want, but we hold one thing that you will learn to covet. We know what is coming. And knowledge is power. And that is why our fight has only just begun."

"We may be an afterthought of our world, but we are the forethought of this world. So tell me, Hyperion, do you think you can shoulder the weight of this world on your own? That just Terra Sentinel and whatever popular support you can muster can best whatever is coming? Do you consider yourself and your group the Atlas of this world?"
 

Admin

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#8
Say whatever you like. I’m sure the words of terrorists will carry far.

Hyperion’s tone betrayed no weakness: Whatever war of words the operative was threatening, it seemed he was certain of his own victory.

I will make whatever sacrifices are necessary to protect this world. That burden is mine, and mine alone.

The spell ran its course through the network, homing in on its source, transmitting what it learned through the Prana-Adept’s fingertips, feeding his mind. Hyperion had done well to cover his tracks, with layer upon layer of proxies, misdirections and dead-ends - but this system seemed ill-prepared to deal with an assault of this fashion.

A picture was painted in the adept’s mind - an airfield of some kind, it’s doors long since shuttered - but among the ruin, pulsed life, tiny beads of electricity sapped from the power-grids. One vessel among the scrap hulks still yet lived.

The same blood that has cursed this world to damnation runs through my veins. You could never hope to understand.

This... is your only warning.



Elsewhere

A thundering roar filled the air as a twin-eared, jet-black form landed on the outskirts of Belfast. Two more of its fellows followed in turn, the three Gespenst Mk-II Mass Production types scanning the horizon in mutual, uncanny silence.

They didn’t have to wait long. The lead unit raised two fingers to one of its pointed ears, turning its head, as if... listening to some unheard command.

Only moments later, it gestured to its fellows, motioning ahead.

“Move.”

All three sets of thrusters flared in unison as they began their descent, to the onlookers below no different from any other Directory security team employed... at least above the hood.




There is... One thing I would like to know, however.

Hyperion seemed unusually talkative for someone who was ordinarily so reserved... or perhaps, he was simply plying the man for as much information as he himself could attain.

Your organization is targeting the aliens. In fact, you seem more aware of their movements than even the Directory intelligence outfit.

From my understanding, these refugees pose little threat to this world. What do you gain from pursuing them?
 

MKR

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#9
"Then I for one will anticipate the crushing weight of the planet to grind you to dust. As for the xenos, considering you refused my counsel earlier I see no need to answer, as you clearly only intend to be weighed down by your past rather than listen to that of others."

The man paused for a moment, his gaze tilting to the side as if the very wind itself whispered something into his ear.
"I wish you good luck with tearing the weeds out of this garden, I for one will be watching with great interest. Do take care that in your attempt to rid the garden of weeds you do not pluck every flower."

The man moved his hand off the phone, cancelling the scrying spell and put the handle down, much as he would like to take the antique with him there was too much a risk. A shame really. He gave a last glance at the room, this man liked himself to one who can bear the weight of the world. Their hubris was also reflected in this world like so many other events they had witnessed.
If he had his way the world, were it to be saved, would just be him and his sins left in the dust, all the stars and all that was would be consumed in the black torrent. And instead there would be a single man, who could not even face himself yet would face the world.

The operative, rolled up his sleeves slightly as he stepped back up the concrete steps. Now the welcoming party remained.
He whispered something back to the winds that notified him, it was time to prepare their arrival.
"Initiate the Reverie boot up sequence, should our friends try anything I would be ready for them."

He'd gotten more than he came here for, far more. And considering their little intruder leaving things as they were was fine for now. And how he had gotten himself a glimpse of the person behind the mask and how they tended to hide.




Somewhere nearby...

Third Prana-Converter Activated...

System restart completed...

Pilot coordinates: confirmed...

DCM-02-MASK: Reverie...

Activated.
 
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