[Blow the Roof off] [ PRAVUS]

[NPCmod]

Mission Statement

- We are going to use the oppurtunity of the ranger's camping trip to instill in them a lesson they will never forget . A lesson--we will give while disguised as the vigilantes themselves.


To all participants :

This is a job that requires subterfuge, stealth, and absolutely secrecy. We require all members to follow the orders of their leader; and not to question anything that is asked of them. We regret not releasing more information prior to the morning of this mission, but it was necessary to keep it under wraps. In your packs each of you will find a few tools, including a metal cutter, a ranger’s uniform , a tranquilizer gun, a few small incendiary bombs, and a single bottle of gasoline.

Two of you will also have maps detailing the layout of the ranger’s base. Listening to all your supervisor says you are to delicately dismantle the Ranger base, and provide them with a warning. If you encounter anyone from the enemy camp, you are to deal with them with non-lethal force. If they attempt to attack, you may raise the level of force to lethal.

WARNING: If you disobey protocol, be ready to suffer severe consequences. Any and all injures are not the fault of the Pravus Corporation, but of your own stupidity.

Thank you--below you will find a list of your four teammates.

--Sincerely
H. Wells [ Director of Pravus mission control]

(In order to join up simply reply with an IC post to this thread, I will add your name to the list. Once all five spots are taken then the ability to join will close. This is a PRAVUS mission.)

[E.nigma]

[This takes place both at the entrance, and in a hidden cave about 500 yards from the ranger entrance]

[ Only Enigma is currently // about to be inside--the rest are awaiting orders at the start of this mission.]

--

A fluttering piece of paper stood out against the storm colored rocks of the ranger's headquarters. Perfectly straight creases laced this dancing piece of parchment, three of them to be exact. Bold dark font seemed to leap from the depths of the simple letter. The text flew by in a blur, as a pair of deep golden eyes scanned the sheet, the mission statement burning itself into the recesses of his mind, wrapping around it, and sticking to it like tacky glue. The eyes paused at the bottom of the page, contemplating the simple signature, before scrutinizing the names below the penned in scrawl. Below the large golden eyes a pair of thin, pale lips allowed the following words to slip out:
"Hmm. An Adequate team."
The words lacked depth, volume or emotion--it failed to be an opinion but a simple fact. The second these whispered words were torn apart by the wind, the face holding the golden eyes and robotic voice snapped upward. The bright eyes roved about the landscape, the pupiless orbs out of place in the angelic face that possessed them. The soft contours of a child's visage was now visible, all rounded edges and soft shapes. The 'angel's' appearance was a mockery of the jaded man inside the body, for this was one Enigma: Pravus administrator, ruthless ,cynical, and heartless bastard.

Now, one would find it odd that he was sitting outside the ranger's headquarters in plain sight. Some would call it foolish--and seeing as Enigma was rarely foolish that was not what he was doing. Instead one would have to turn their heads upward, to catch sight of Enigma, who was currently cross legged on top of a stony pile. Pebbles occasionally shifted under his body, tumbling down to the ground below in little rivulets. The man himself was still, except for the occasional movement of his eyes. Upward toward the sky, down toward the watch and main ranger entrance, and sideways to where his team awaited.
"Late."
The single word was hissed, but only angry in its form o delivery, for it possessed the same dead tone of the earlier words. With a flicker of annoyance, the Pravus member pulled his pack from around his shoulders, before digging calmly inside. It was soon returned back to his darkly clad back.

With a few seconds he removed a small laptop. A large cord hung from its end, a odd sucker like appendage dangling from it instead of a plug. Tucking the small laptop into the crook of his arms, the administrator rose to his feet--his eyes flickering quickly to his watch. With a burst of muscles, the child-like man leapt from the small pile of rocks, landing in a graceful crouch at the bottom. At eye level was a round patch of stone with a hint of discoloration. It was to this that the odd sucker-appendage was hooked up. Instantly text burst to life on the screen, long strings of numbers played across Enigma's blank eyes, his face still. A odd beep erupted from the small speakers of the laptop, and with alarming quickness, the statue , leapt to life. White gloved hands flew across the keyboard in a blur, keys pressed with a sure quickness. Numbers began to multiply across the screen, and the Pravus member's eyes never left the screen.

After about five minutes of this, there was a grating sound, and a cleverly camouflaged door slid upward from the wall of stone. Calmly replacing the laptop in his pocket, Enigma pulled a walkie talkie from a slender side pocket on the leather bag.
" Object A ---completed. Access is now granted into the compound--proceed with caution."
Amid much buzzing a second radio in the floor of a nearby cave leapt to life, repeating the orders in their robotic crispness.

--

Without a glance behind him, Enigma ducked inside the door--the sunlight illuminating his form for a moment. The normal white was replaced with a cloudy grey, simple pockets ran up and down a black vest. A cursive R was sewn at the bottom of a large pair of dark pants. Atop his head, a fedora like hat was perched--ears tied into a inconspicuous bundle at the top of his head, underneath the black hat. The normally vibrant green hair was now a stunning teal, and the man stood a good few inches taller the n normal, with the help of his stilt like boots. The poof of hair was now straightened, falling around his neck in ocean like waves. The only things that had remained the same [besides his personality] were the crisp pair of white gloves, and the emptiness of the bright golden eyes.

Turning down a side hallway, Enigma began to follow the map burned into memory. The walkie talkie rose slowly to his mouth in the dirt shod tunnels.
"TEAM A--consting of one Mr. Tanaka, and Member Two--please proceed to point A. Attach your devices to the pillar in the center of the room, and proceed to point C."
[Point A is the Entrance Hall--point C is the star-gazing room].
"TEAM B-- Proceed to points B [ Main Breeding center] and D [ The back tunnel]. Follow the same orders as your predecessors--but be sure to grab any valuables, or pokemon you may find on the out."
Pausing to gaze up at a swinging light, Enigma smirked.

Mayhap this would prove interesting. Then again with fools like the rangers running the place.

..

Probably not.

--

Deep within his pack, a single timed device gave a shrill beep. A blood red light glinted in the darkness, the sounds of a clicking clock echoing into eternity . . each tock was like a hammer strike, the tick a evil hiss.

Tick .. .

Tock . ..

Tick . .

Tock . . .

Tickticktick. ...Tock.

Time was running out.


[POST -- iT DOESN'T MATTER WHAT ORDER. YOU JUST CAN'T BE IN CONNER's SQUAD]

[McKenna L. Madison]

[Bah, hope this is okay. Let me know if it's not.]

McKenna occupied herself for the longest while, by kneeling down in the grass and staring neutrally down at the map she’d been given to hold onto. Her gray eyes couldn’t have been more dismissive, and as she muttered something under her breath, she reached out her fingers to touch the rough creases in the folded paper, ignoring all the blatant markings and structural information about the base. Her heart was pacing rapidly in her chest, and her breath cut short for an instant as the rough feel sunk in and she snatched her hand back, resuming to sit, kneeling, arms slung over her knees as she stared at it. Naturally, she frowned.

This was not her cup of tea.

Well. At least not the primary function. Her eyes jumped over to the huge container of gasoline she was supposed to carry on her person at all times, and then slowly glanced down at her own dark, sling backpack lying on the grass next to her. This time around it was mostly empty. She cocked her brow as she remembered what she packed that morning, having been surprised at the sudden assignment and the lack of details. There wasn’t much time to address the Squad Leader, Martinez, in regards to what she should do. In the course of unpacking a lot of unnecessary things, Rote had stuffed her bag full of essentials- the potions, some odd jelly substance he stole from downtown [still untouched in its bottle], a few burn heals and nothing more. She had packed a few prototype pokeballs that she’d been testing for the last few days, and she’d haphazardly placed the latest addition to the team in her bag as well – Sir Lancelot, who had yet to really bond with any of the team members.

To her, it’d been an emergency situation with specific requirements: no matter what, she couldn’t leave her team behind, and two, she’d need as much space as she could get so she left a lot of the standard junk like tools and other equipment back in the room. She could still picture the wrenches, the small drills, the screwdrivers, helmets, goggles and pokeball parts scattered along her bed after shaking her entire pack out. Now all that was in there were essentials to the mission- some kind of gun they expected might come in handy, the gasoline and a few weird bomb things. That took up some space, and then, her old clothes.

Because they had to wear Ranger uniforms.

Of course she sighed, her eyes pulling off of her backpack, her mind drifting to more interesting things. On the one hand, a great amount of nervousness and panic rose in her chest. Her breath sometimes caught when she imagined a scene in her head, and she sometimes placed her hands over her eyes, a few fingers pressing into her forehead as if she had a headache. Her stomach churned, she grimaced, her eyes staring down at the map with renewed revulsion.

At least, well. She might be paired with someone –hopefully just one- person in whatever task she had. They could handle any “issues” that cropped up with rogue Rangers- she was never good at socializing- and it would help her feel at ease to know she wasn’t moving with a big group of people, but still. This wasn’t like that time she battled that kid in the Park. This wasn’t a make-the-team-happy mission. She wasn’t sacrificing her own comfort for the sake of her pokemon. She was…well. Doing a job. This was a mission, not play time. She wasn’t sneaking out at night to test out a few new models in regards to her pokeball inventions, she wasn’t making anything in her room, she wasn’t drawing up schematics…she was burning down a damn base with a group of people that might be considered a tad on the well…calling them “interesting” might be too much of a compliment.

And of course, she sighed, her eyes flashing with concern as she dropped her hand away from her eyes and reached for the map to fold it up again. Regardless of what team she was on or who she was going with, there was still that tension spreading through her at the prospect of actually being a functional part of a team. She had yet to meet her boss face-to-face, or any of her comrades. She only knew their names, and thanks to Zachary’s infamous meddling, the Zigzagoon had been secretly spying and giving her details about them. She knew what the looked like and somewhat of how “interesting” they were, but needless to say she was still nervous…and as a mechanic, definitely not cut out for too much field work.

…She reasoned that so long as she could take a few things apart, and maybe steal some important gadgets for her most recent projects, specifically the construction of a new pokeball with very powerful effects, it would be enough. Any personal interest that a mission could supply a person with would only increase their productivity in the matter. And sadly, that was how she viewed it, as if it were a business transaction and she were performing her end of the bargain for an equally valuable something. It would have to be enough. Emotions could trump effort in the long run, and she had too many experiences suppressing disgust or fear not to know how to swallow it in a situation where it couldn’t exist.

That might have been what made her so different from so many others of her caliber- she knew that she was weak in respects to her own fears, but she could handle them, if she could reason a way out of it. She’d been dubbed a title of The Rat, for not only her behavior, but her distinct quality of adaptation to a situation, or an interesting fascination in things that most people deemed useless in a trade. How could her mind only be on the subject of stealing a tool that say, was maybe a better wrench than the one she had back at the base when there was so much more to be looted from a treasure such as the Ranger headquarters? Money, pokemon, weaponry, reports…but no. She wasn’t a meager mouse that settled for the luxuries amongst the scraps, she was the one digging through the junk for items that people overlooked or missed.

A wrench, to her, would always be more valuable than the dollar that could buy it, and as was her preference for little things - … if she couldn’t afford it, why bother paying at all? There were many times in which Rote, her overprotective Ratatta was not the only creature who’d been hailed a thief.

No. She would excel in a mission like this, though the time in which it took place was not to her liking. If only it were dark, and she did not expect to have so many eyes searching for her, looking right at her. Even the prospect of having a single human partner on the mission bugged her immensely, made her feel tense and grow pale. People were not her forte. But sneaking around, sticking to herself, longing for only the trivial but useful materials and mechanics work- … now that. That was a special kind of logic, a kind of greed that she could honestly say she was proud of. The Rat was the only other name she’d ever willingly gone by, and when she was alone to contemplate the origins of it, she knew the title fit her well.

A mission like this would be right up her alley if no one were around, if this was done at night, and if she could freely scrounge what she wanted before blowing everything up to pieces. But all those components just simply didn’t exist in this situation. She had to focus her attention on a few things and struggle to suppress the rest- including her major fears about being in public and around other people. However, it did not stop her from looking weary as she pocketed the map after folding it up and stood, awaiting orders.

Her fingers wrapped around the strap of her backpack as she lugged it up and swung it over her shoulder, before she bent to take up the gasoline canister as well. She had to swear to herself that she would keep an eye out for any valuables before lighting a match in any room- tools, hardware, anything that could help her. It would be the only thing that could appease the mix of panic and guilt filling her head in those moments.

“I…the..” she hesitated, her eyes falling upon the others, remembering that she had never even met them in person before. The words failed her, and she grunted, reaching back and rubbing the back of her neck as her eyes closed and she forced herself to remember: it’s not so many people, it’s fine.

But there was always an advantage in taking your pokemon anywhere, knowing that they could come to your aid without even so much as hearing the request. Ruff, the eccentric, heavily accented mankey dropped down from a tree and landed on her shoulder in a heartbeat, his amber eyes glowing as he glanced up, all four limbs clinging to her for dear life as his tail wrapped around her lower arm to help maintain his balance. She side glanced at him and sighed, relieved of a momentary lapse in her own sense of motivation. The rest of her pokemon, she knew would be willing to take up her defense as well. They were all lying in wait in their separate pokeballs in her backpack.

“We doin’ this shit or what?” Ruff called out, strangely excited, his nostrils flaring. It was his own way of asking what their orders were, not exactly in the manner that McKenna expected of him, but definitely straightforward, if anything. “Who’s the mook we workin’ with or which way we headin’ ya no good lousy-“

He stopped only because McKenna raised a hand and pressed her finger to his nose, catching his attention and silencing him before he could insult anyone. His fur stood on end for an instant, his body frozen, looking like a strange puffball on top of her shoulder before he closed his eyes and sneezed as she pulled her hand away. He only glared at her half heartedly, turning a slight shade of red across his face, amber eyes glowing with agitation. He didn’t like it when she did that. It was annoying.

But God if it wasn’t a good way to shut him up if he was talking too much out of turn.