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Kalas Alseif || Advanced: I.D.R.I.S. Safehouse || + 00:04:07:37 (Initial Attack)
Status: "The innocent are the ones we protect, but who protects the protectors? That's a job for the shadows."
His naked torso glistened with sweat that poured from him as he executed a combination of punches, rendering deep, fist-shaped depressions into the sand-filled, leather punching bag as it swung to and fro with each strike. Every consecutive, resounding thud being accompanied by the rattling of the chain that supported its' weight which also kept his rhythm in time. Another sequenced assault followed soon after and another in quick succession, followed by yet another after that. Each punch landing quicker than the last and demanding more and more breath to be expelled from his lungs until, eventually, he was forced to release them vocally, loud grunts punctuating each hit. He'd been at it for just shy of two hours, or so he'd thought. The high-pitched beeping of his watch denoted that his allocated time was up. He exhaled, stumbling forward to hug the bag. Partly to steady its' frantic swinging but mostly to calm his breathing.
A glance toward his wall-mounted holoscreen showed news reports of the havoc being wreaked in the City by the attacking KBots, as well as the announcement from the Guild Future Society calling to the public for aid. 'A bit late for that now...' He thought to himself. As his heart rate began to return to normal, Kalas took a shower to wash away the sweat from his daily training session. He'd added an extra hour to this one, noticing the anxiety that had filled him when the first reports of the attacks had reached him. He'd heard nothing from the Council, though he was sure it wouldn't be long. It wasn't like I.D.R.I.S. to stand idly by whilst the City was being razed to the ground. He wanted to be out there, doing something, anything. But that was against his current orders.
He'd been laying low for well over a year now. At first it had been strange to him, not being able to move about as freely as he once did and having to move into some minimal, high-rise apartment in the middle of the Advanced Section. His neighbors had been annoying at first but it wasn't long before he was able to settle in. After all, the perky blonde-he'd forgotten her name on numerous occasions-who lived a few doors down had made it her mission to 'get-to-know-him-better'. Despite the obvious implications behind her suggestion, Kalas hadn't found it too unpleasant. Although she was starting to become a nuisance, asking questions about himself that he wasn't readily able to answer.
After stepping out of his walk-in shower and drying himself carelessly, he wrapped a towel around his waist and wandered into the open-plan area of his apartment that consisted of his kitchen, bedroom & living space. He strode toward the refrigerator, opening it and grabbing one of the partially empty milk cartons from the shelf of the door. As he threw his head back and began downing the remnants of the carton, he saw a blue, flashing light in the corner of his right eye. He stopped drinking instantly, haphazardly placing the unfinished milk back in the fridge before closing the door in a hurry. Kalas then rushed over toward the all-black electric stove, the source of the blue light and also the hidden location of the standard-issue I.D.R.I.S. Holo-Communications Display, or Holo-Com as it was often shortened to. The light indicated an incoming communication. He twisted a knob to the far left, accepting the call, before shuffling back a few steps and standing to attention.
As the tiny projectors hidden within the stove switched on, Kalas remembered to wipe the residue milk away from his mouth, quickly returning to attention. A holographic image smoothly materialized in thin air, depicting a shadowed panel of silhouettes. The I.D.R.I.S. Command Council. "Looking...comfortable, Commander." Came a man's voice, distinctly gravelly and aged, with a hint of military in it.
"I apologise, Sir, I'd just stepped out of the shower when I noticed the call." He blushed, kicking himself for being dressed in nothing but a sodden towel in front of his Senior Officers.
"At ease, Alseif. This isn't an inspection. We have new orders for you." He perked up at that.
"I'm ready to go at a moments notice, Sir." He stated eagerly, finally glad to being doing something.
"No doubt you've been following the reports of the attacks, Mr. Alseif?" This voice was different, a woman's voice. Older than his but not by much and definitely not military, more akin to a politician's.
"Of Course, Ma'am." He replied, addressing the new speaker.
"Then you'll know that certain members of the public will be heading to General Interest to fend off the attacking KBots?"
"Yes, Ma'am. Although, I would have considered that option far sooner than now."
"Glad to know we're already on the same page, Mr. Alseif." She seemed impressed, though if she was her voice didn't show it.
"We want you to go to General Interest too, get a decent view of the situation there. If the GFS have called in the public for help, we need to find those who stand out during the fighting and monitor them. They maybe useful in the future if they can manage to repel this attack."
"Consider it done, Ma'am." He said, standing even straighter. Then the man spoke again, ending the communication.
"Be sure to take your personal Holo-Com with you but only activate it once you're inside the General Interest Section and only to inform us of your location. After that, keep it switched to its' low-power state. We'll contact you with new orders." Kalas began to salute but the man spoke once more.
"Oh and Commander...Feel free to call in the others at your discretion. You've been given Field Command and acting Executive Command until such a time where we can operate freely once again. Good luck, Commander. The hologram flashed into nothing, as he snapped a crisp salute.
It was time. Finally, he'd be able to leave this apartment and return to his work. He quickly scrambled over to his three-door wardrobe, wrenching open the double-doors on the left side and sliding his neatly hung clothing aside. He pushed a palm against the wood-grain panel which lit up beneath his touch before reveling a small keypad. 0437. He fingered the code in quickly and the back panel began to give way, sliding to the left into a thin recess behind the wardrobe. The small doorway opened up into another quaint room where, locked behind a bullet-proof glass cabinet, was his combat gear. His armour and cloaks as well as his twin-sabers; Osebon & Ahael. And finally, his poisoned dagger. 'They'll need re-oiling...' He thought, suddenly growing excited. He'd been hiding in the shadows for far too long. Now was the time to use them. Now was the time to act.
