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Realistic or Modern Special Elite Black Ops Shooter Guy: Inaccurate Military Action Quest 2: Electric Boogaloo: This Time It's Personal: The Revenge: Freedom Reloaded

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[2] "Tray... dammit. Should've seen it coming."

You clench your fist. "Tray... dammit. Should've seen it coming."

"Don't blame yourself," says Fleming. "None of us expected a traitor in our midst. There was nothing to suggest that he was a double-agent, either."

"DeShawn had a bad feeling about him from the start," you admit, regretfully. "I should've listened to him."

"Sometimes a bad feeling is just that: a bad feeling," the doctor shrugs. "They're rarely right. You followed your rational thoughts and not your gut instinct."

"I should've followed my gut, dammit!" You cry. Your heartrate spikes. "Now they're all gone because of me."

Fleming sighs. "What's done is done. You can't change the past," he says. "Focus on the present. I hear the techs have something waiting for you over at Engineering."

You lean back. "What is it?"

"Don't know. You should head there after we're done with therapy.

You nod.

An hour later, you're back on your feet. The advanced muscle therapy made you fit and healthy again in no time, curing the effects of your coma without a hitch.

As you walk down the halls of the base, things seem very different. First of all, there don't seem to be as many people as there were before. Scattered sheets of paper are on the floor, and it seems like maintenance came second. You wonder just what's happened in the time you were unconscious.

Several soldiers pass by, immediately stopping to salute you as you pass. You don't see a lot of familiar faces.

You eventually make it to Engineering. It's a large area with machines everywhere. Engineers and technicians are working on various machines or cranking out new pieces of gear. Several are working on a large stealth aircraft, while others repair damaged vehicles.

As you continue, a familiar face comes into view, dressed in a labcoat. He sees you coming, and waves with a smile. "Ah, Captain! Fleming told me you were coming."

It's Albert Newton, an acclaimed scientist and inventor. He's part of the science team, inventing various new technologies like the grapple you once had. With a name like that, he was destined for science from a young age.

"Newton," you greet back, shaking his hand. "Been a while."

"It has been. Well, for me," he motions you to follow him. "I've got something you want to see."

You follow. "What's got you all excited?"

"Here!" He stops at a table. On it and held in the air by a stand is a robotic arm, painted. "We've been working on this since you were recovered. You know, to replace the one you lost."

You study it closely. "You've built a robot arm for me?"

"Exactly!" Newton nods, turning to a computer monitor and tying in a series of equations so quickly you can't even keep up. "Now, it still needs a few calibrations, but we've been waiting for you to see it for yourself for some final touches."

He turns back to you. "This arm can mount a single attachment. We weren't sure which one would suit you, so we decided to let you choose."

A screen switches on. "The first is a pneumatically-activated ballistic shotgun," the arm unfolded to reveal a gun barrel. "You can fire it after impact with your fist to give it some extra kick..." the gun fired after punching an enemy. "...or fire it like a conventional gun."

"Next up is a ballistic shield, made from hyper-durable ballistic mesh," the arm deployed a shield, rapidly unfolding to shield your whole body from the front. "It's pretty much immune to small-arms fire," bullets were shown hitting the shield, which bounced off harmlessly.

The screen now showed a familiar attachment. "Rapid mobility grapple. It's much like the one mounted to your arm you've used before," a cable was launched out, connecting to a surface. "This one can support several times your own weight, and is much stronger than before."

"Finally, we have one that's a little unconventional: a rocket-propelled fist launcher," the fist and forearm were launched, propelled with a rocket booster. "You can punch bad guys from a distance, and the fist can be controlled by thought with the neural connection."

Newton looks very excited as he finishes the list. "So, which would it be?"

You scratch your chin and choose the:

[1] Pneumatic shotgun
[2] Ballistic shield
[3] Rapid mobility grapple
[4] Rocket-propelled fist
 
[4] Rocket-propelled fist

You shrug, deciding to go with the most ridiculous option because you could. Besides, you really wanted to punch some terrorists from a few blocks away. "Let's go with the rocket-propelled fist."

Newton nods excitedly. "I was hoping you'd say that. Come on, let's let it fitted!"

He motions you forwards. In front of you several robotic arms assemble the arm and finish attaching the integrated booster. Newton motions you to insert your stump into the base of the arm, which you do.

The arm attaches to your stump, and you feel a slight jolt. The robotic assembly arms proceed to attach it fully, connecting the nerves needed to control it. It only takes a few seconds, the fingers twitching a few times.

When it is done, the robotic arms return to their positions, leaving you with the shiny new prosthetic.

"Well, how does it feel?" Newton asks.

You pull your new arm from the stand and give an experimental flex and twitch your fingers. The arm responds organically and instantly. It's almost as if you still have your old arm. "This feels weird," you admit.

Newton chuckles. "You'll get used to it after a while," he tells you. "Now, the arm's also got an advanced hydraulic system built into it, allowing you much greater strength. You'll be able to carry three times your own weight and punch through solid concrete."

You continue to flex a few more times, then frown.

You turn to Newton and say:

[1] "Thanks, but why do all this?"
[2] "Is this really necessary?"
[3] "Why build a whole new arm just for me?"
[4] "I never asked for this."
 
[1] "Thanks, but why do all this?"
 
[1] "Thanks, but why do all this?"

You turn to Newton with a frown. "Thanks, but why do all this?" You ask. "Why spend all this time just to create a new arm for me?"

"Because," a voice interrupts. "We need you back to peak effectiveness as soon as possible."

You turn. It's Fick Nury, dressed in his usual trench coat and eyepatch. "Director Nury," you greet him.

"Captain Guy," Nury nods. "We've waited eight months for you to wake up. Many things have changed since."

You furrow your brows. "Changed? How?"

"Follow me," says Nury, turning around. "I'll explain to you in the briefing room."

You follow him through the halls and end up at the briefing room. It's empty, with only you and him. He starts the projector.

"As you know, the Nemesis Brotherhood has returned," says the Director. The symbol of the Brotherhood is projected on the screen. "We don't know how or why they're back, but they're more powerful than ever before."

"That can't be possible," you say. "Xander's dead. I killed him years ago."

Nury sighs. "We can't be sure yet, but evidence points that he survived the facility explosion," a blurry image appears, and despite the low quality, you recognise the figure instantly.

"Xander..." you mutter, fists clenching. "How?"

"We don't know," says Nury. "But we do know that the Brotherhood made their reappearance right after that fateful mission."

The projection changes to show multiple embassies all over the world in flames, and various sites of devastation in various cities. "They hit the embassies and cities of every major nation in a coordinated attack. They've declared war on the whole world, and they've been hitting hard."

"The whole world? They can't be that brazen, can they?"

"From what they've done it's clear that they are," Nury tells you. "We can't even perform a surgical strike to take out their leadership like last time because we don't even know where they're coming from, or how they even got that tech of theirs. Right now, they're a global terror group."

"How do we stop them?" You ask. "If they're that powerful the United States military Army Marines Navy SEAL Delta Force Recon Green Berets SWAT Black Ops won't be enough."

Nury nods. "Exactly," he says. "That's why you no longer serve the United States military Army Marines Navy SEAL Delta Force Recon Green Berets SWAT Black Ops."

You blink. "Excuse me?"

The Director holds out a hand. "From this moment on you serve the Global Military Army Navy Marines Armed Forces Tactical Joint Defense Recon Black Ops Coalition of Nations. Or simply, the Coalition."

You're curious, and ask:

[1] "The Coalition? What is it?"
[2] "What is the Coalition?"
[3] "A coalition of the world's nations?"
[4] "A global effort to stop the Brotherhood?"
 
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[4] "A global effort to stop the Brotherhood?"
 
[4] "A global effort to stop the Brotherhood?"

You sit up in your seat and ask, "A global effort to stop the Brotherhood?"

Nury nods. "Exactly," he says. He taps his remote, and the image on the screen changes to a cool animation of an eagle holding the flag of the United Nations. A pair of crossed swords slide in behind it, along with a shield. "Formed and funded by the world's nations, the Coalition is a combined effort to stop the Nemesis Brotherhood. A true multinational team of only the best from each country."

He turns to you. "You included."

You nod. "So the world finally put away its differences to combat the Brotherhood?"

"For now," Nury says. "We're only working together at the moment to stop the Brotherhood. Afterwards it's business as usual."

The Director continues. "Now, the Coalition has the funding, technology, and manpower of every nation in it combined. We're hoping it's more than enough to stop the Brotherhood again, but to tell you the truth, I'm not so sure of that myself."

"What do you mean?"

"Prior to the whole Ardarazaijan incident years ago where you uncovered the Brotherhood for the first time, none of us knew they even existed," says Nury. "We still have hardly any information on them, where they operate from, or who even runs them. Xander was the only leader we knew, and we don't know how he survived. We do know, however, is that they have a network of cells all over the world if they were able to conduct simultaneous attacks. You remember their stash of Element-122, right?"

You nod. "They had loads of nonexistium stored away in their central facility at Ardarazaijan. They were planning to infuse it with their nukes to destroy America. Destroying the nonexistium canisters caused the whole facility to blow up."

Element-122, nonexistium, is a new element discovered in super rare quantities, mostly in deserts in the Middle East. The element itself is extraterrestrial in origin, most likely from asteroids. It is a highly volatile element that can provide great power, or highly-destructive weapons of mass destruction. Ardarazaijan just happens to be sitting on one of the world's largest deposits, and its corrupt government sold it to the Brotherhood.

Nury turns to you with a sly grin. "What if I told you that we have a significant supply of our own?"

You look to him and ask:

[1] "I thought most of the nonexistium went up with the facility."
[2] "How much is 'significant', exactly?"
[3] "Where did we get it from? Ardarazaijan?"
[4] "I thought Ardarazaijan has most of the stuff, and they're a rogue state."
 
[2] "How much is 'significant', exactly?"
 
[2] "How much is 'significant', exactly?"

You lean forwards and ask, "How much is 'significant', exactly?"

"More than enough to give our R&D a significant increase," says Nury. "We've got enough nonexistium to power a city."

"Where did we get it from?" You ask, furrowing your brows. "I thought Ardarazaijan has most of it, given how they're sitting on the largest deposit in the world."

"Most, but not all," answers Nury. "While nowhere near as much, other countries were willing to contribute their own supply. Did you know that Uzbekistan has the second-largest deposit? They contributed a significant amount of their nonexistium. Even Iran was willing to."

You're surprised. "Even Iran? Thought those guys hated us."

"Well, when a terrorist group declares war on the entire world, them included, and a coalition of nations is your only hope, you'll be willing to hand over some of that stuff, too."

You scratch your chin. "So... what are we using it for?" You ask. "I understand R&D got a boost, but nonextium can also be used for some really advanced tech, like the Brotherhood with their exosuits, and that was years before similar suits were mass-produced by other countries."

Nury grins. "Follow me, if you will."

He leads you out of the briefing room and down the hallway, to the landing strip. There, an aircraft is sitting there. It resembles an Osprey, but with jets instead of propellers. Nury takes a seat, and so do you, along with several other soldiers and technicians. Soon, the craft begins to vertically take off, and begins cruising towards the Pacific at a steady rate. The frigid and snow-covered base in Alaska looks a lot emptier than you remember.

"Where are we going?" You ask.

Nury doesn't turn. "You'll find out soon enough."

The craft continues, eventually dipping downwards. The ocean is down below. Approaching in the distance is a strange ship of some kind. It looks like an odd sort of submarine, almost, but there's also a massive tail fin sticking out of it, easily several storeys tall. It's huge, perhaps the length of an aircraft carrier. Several choppers are milling around, and smaller boats form a defensive perimeter around it. Painted on its side in big bold letters is the word 'ATLAS'.

It's an awe-inspiring sight, you have to admit.

You turn to Nury, and have to ask:

[1] "What is that thing?"
[2] "Is that a new aircraft carrier?"
[3] "I've never seen anything like it before."
[4] "Is that ours?"
 
[2] "Is that a new aircraft carrier?"
 
[2] "Is that a new aircraft carrier?"

You turn to Nury and ask, "Is that a new aircraft carrier?"

Nury shakes his head. "It's much more than that."

He steps over to the window and gestures to the massive craft. "What you're seeing before you is the Atlas, the mobile command centre and operating headquarters of the Coalition. We spent eight months constructing it in complete secrecy."

"Eight months?" You ask, turning to the massive ship. "That's a pretty short time to build something like that."

"When the whole world comes together to face an extremist group hellbent on world domination, things have to be built fast. The nonextium we have provided a boost, too."

The tiltjet that you had since learned is called an Albatross, comes to hover over a small barge with a landing pad, which is then ushered into the ship's hangar bay. The doors open, and you step into it. You take a look at the expansive hangar, and notice that there are many crewmen rushing about, a few dozen aircraft inside, consisting of fixed and rotor-wing craft. You notice, however, several sections still seem to be incomplete.

"Don't mind the work," Nury says, leading you through. The men step aside and salute. "We had to rush production. But don't worry, most of what's incomplete is just some interior workings. It's all ready to fly."

You frown. "Fly, sir?"

The Director grins. "Yes, fly."

He doesn't say anything else. Surely, you think, a ship of this size can't possibly fly, can it?

The two of you end up at the bridge. It's massive, the size of an aircraft carrier's. There are bridge officers at their stations, seating in front of blinking monitors as they type commands into their keyboards. At the front are a set of massive windows. "This is the CIC," says Nury, coming to stand in front of a command chair with several monitors in front of it. "Where we process everything, and where I command operations. The cockpit is at the front, as you'd expect from an aircraft."

Your frown deepens, and you ask:

[1] "If I may, sir, why do you keep referring to this as an aircraft?"
[2] "Sir, you keep saying that this thing can fly. Why is that?"
[3] "The Atlas can fly? I find that very hard to believe."
[4] "There is no way this ship can fly. That's just impossible."
 
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