Mattchstick — Roleplayer Guild

"Hm?"

Gunther took his feet off his desk and sat upright to read the newest public chat message. It was from the Keeper. Something about server instability. 

"NERVE, eh," he muttered, opening a new browser tab and searching the name, limiting it to News sources and sorting it by Most Recent. He knew about NERVE. At this point, though, who didn't? They were becoming more of a threat every day, especially since the government was on the edge of offering a steady source of income. Black hat hackers and cyber criminals who weren't doing so well were changing sides and using their connections to make a good bit of money from turning in those who were once allies. He had to admit, it was an excellent system. The government was making an enormous long-term investment in cyber security by essentially recruiting the bad guys to do what they couldn't.

It could have made a half-decent plot for a movie.

Of course, their plans were not without consequence, as the most recent news article reported the murder of am ex-hacker NERVE operative. A mysterious message had been left on the body. Some kind of cipher. The news outlet had provided a scan of it and Gunther took the liberty of downloading it to check out later on. A thought occurred to him, and he brought up the active registry of NERVE operatives, something he kept updated both from public records and snooping through the deep web. There was an informal whistle-blower protection service offered to hackers-turned-NERVE that prevented their real name and ID from appearing in the public registry, but even the best hackers couldn't maintain a double lifestyle and "missing" cyber criminals could have changed jobs. Gunther took a moment to highlight the dead man's name and scratch it off the list. One more down.

Down?...

Gunther refreshed the page. The chatroom was still down. Guess Keeper_3 was being a little extra thorough. He opened the thin notebook on his desk and wrote himself a note to check in with a certain vulture. Maybe there was a whole new market opening up. Satisfied for now, he locked his laptop, pulled on a hoodie and snatched a dog leash from a hook by his door, giving the metal clip a little jingle. Zero was at his bedroom door in a second, sitting and thumping his tail loudly on the ground. 

"You want to take a walk?"

The shepherd barked in return, generating a small grin from the German. He clipped the leash on and slipped into a pair of sneakers. Guess the chat could wait for now.

Ruben Verislav
Level: 1
Day/Time: Day Three - Evening
Location: 26th Floor of Tetris Castle, The Reception Hall
Tag:
Word Count: 716


The breathtaking display of the hall, as well as the design and formality of the rest of the castle, was completely lost on Ruben. From the rugged terrain of Russia to the cramped XCOM HQ deep underground, he had lived around bare metal and exposed bulbs for most of his life. There was too much space here, too much grandeur and show, and the only thing that really mattered was how undefended the place was. Decorative glass instead of bulletproof. Marble and granite instead of concrete and rebar. Certainly he had never seen anything like it, but he wasn't here to swoon. He was here to fight.

Somewhat to his disappointment, there was no fighting to be had here. Ruben lifted his rifle, which he had been carrying in both arms, with one hand and slid it onto a magnetic lock on the back of his armor. It weighed at least fifteen pounds combat loaded, but he barely noticed the weight, considering how heavy his standard body armor already was. He looked up to see who would be in charge of the briefing and blinked in surprise. This was no commanding officer or council member. He resembled an animated cartoon version of a human, and for a moment Ruben wasn't sure if he should salute or not. Was he really going to take orders from this...individual? Or, for that matter, regard him at all? He didn't seem to possess any kind of authority or capability to lead. He more resembled a mascot than anything else. But he was holding a tablet and he was standing in the center of the room.

The Council had warned him that things here would be abnormal, though, and that he was expected to stay in line and obey orders. It didn't matter where he was or who he was with. He was a soldier, and part of being a soldier is respecting authority. Ruben forced his personal opinions from his mind and straightened his back, placing his feet parallel to each other and raising his right hand to his head in a formal Russian salute.

“Merry Christmas! Happy Holidays! Welcome! Please, make yourselves comfortable and don’t be afraid to dig in (cause this might be your last supper), ha, ha, ha! I assure you that none of the food is radioactive. I checked it myself!”

Ruben didn't move. He wasn't hungry, but more than that he wasn't particularly comfortable, and the possibility that the food may contain radiation did not ease his mind.

“We have a few things to discuss before you all are on your way so please quickly find a seat. We’ll start in five minutes.”

Finally, some actual instructions. Ruben slid into the seat all the way to the right of the table, drawing his rifle and resting it on the floor so that the barrel was within easy reach of his hand. He glanced over the food set in front of him and was in the process of removing his gloves when he was approached by a Lemming, though he had never seen one and almost mistook it as an alien. Instinctively he placed a hand on the pistol strapped to his leg, but he stopped himself, instead patting the holster as if to confirm it still existed. The creature was unarmed. It seemed amiable, and after a few moments Ruben realized it was asking him for a drink order. He had no idea what beverages existed, so he decided to wing it.

"Gatorade..." Ruben grunted, trying to determine how he should address the creature, eventually settling on "...please." He had no idea if it existed in this world, but it was what he drank back at XCOM. The lemming scurried off, leaving Ruben to re-examine the food on the table. A stack of meat and cheese sandwiches (tomatoes and lettuce included) caught his eye. He was a simple man who enjoyed simple food. He also enjoyed a lot of food, and claimed three of them before beginning his meal. He was aware that he hadn't greeted anyone else, but it didn't matter that much. There would be time for formal introductions later, he was sure. Right now he needed fuel and a briefing, so he kept his focus exclusively on his food and Vault Boy. 

Mattchstick Member

This little light of mine...

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