2019-08-19 - Codename - Venom

Summary:

The Wall calls Able in for a job: Capture Venom.

Log Info:

Storyteller: None
Date: Mon Aug 19 00:22:21 2019
Location: Black Site

Related Logs

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Theme Song

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ableamanda-waller

The days going through the Disaster Zone were wrought with.. something. Perhaps it was a training exercise to see if Able was still fit to give her marching orders from her, or to see if he was still of mind and body to handle things when it goes sideways. Either way, the two of them made it to Turtle Bay without so much as a loss of limb. Bruises, yes. Nothing broken, and nothing that hits the face. But the arrival at Turtle Bay was met with a caravan of black cars that would take them the rest of the way was planned.

They were allowed the comfort of an air conditioned car even though they smelled to high heavens, a bottle of beer or a glass of wine, and 'curbside' service into a ruined building that looked a little bit nondescript and out of the way.

Into the elevator that went down, down.. down until it was quite possibly disorienting into a facility that looks new. Fresh paint is probably the smell down there, chairs were lining the halls waiting to be unwrapped, tables waiting to be put together, and teeming with life.

Off into separate hallways where they were separated and allowed to rest. Amanda prefers her rib-eye alone, so that she could sully it with more sauce even though the seasoning took care of the flavor. She was a rebel in that regard, and quite possibly might even added ketchup and mustard if they'd had it on hand.

Then a shower and a rest. Her suite, larger than life of course, locked from the inside and naturally blocked out. And when she awoken, a designated hair dresser enters to tease her coils with cocoa butter whilst the other does minimal and professional makeup. Outfit was chosen, all black and business. Shoes were nothing but heels that were two inches tall and thick, well appropriate for her manner of dress.

"All potential candidates meet in the briefing room in twenty." The voice calls out on the intercom.

To life the black site was again, with Amanda marching towards the destination with a clear modus opperandi in mind.

"Christopher." Who?! "Meet me in the control room."

No need to tell him where that is, she was sure he aimessly wandered the week that they've been down there.

Christopher/Able was greeted with far less fanfare when the two of them arrived. He was shown to living quarters that were spartan both in size and furnishings, then was asked none-too-gently to take a shower.

As a man with few belongs and little need for personal space, the room fits him well enough. Someone had the presence of mind to stock the closet with clothing, which was a pleasant surprise, but he quickly grew bored after freshening up.

Then, yes, the doctor started to wander, but in a purposeful way. Each room, hallway and stairwell have been committed to memory. He's particularly enjoyed availing himself of the laboratory, which is where he receives the call. "Acknowledged," he responds.

A moment later he pokes his head, then the rest of himself through the door to the control room. No lab coat or suit jacket today, just a white shirt, slightly loosened black tie, dark slacks, and the worn leather holster for his revolver. "You rang?"

The Control Room was vast.

It would be considered the base of operations for the high level command that belonged to this facility. Right now it was empty, save for a box in the middle of the vast round table with applicants to go through that would fit the bill. Generals. Likeminded agents at the top of their tier, so on and so forth.

But the Control Room sits above an empty space that was used for testing and training, or will be. The recruits have already gathered and assembled, paired off to evaluate their fighting styles against one another. It was purposefully done this way, so that they would have no clue of their opponent.

Nor how deadly they were.

As Able entered into the room, she glances back towards him, then tilts her head towards the scene below. "I did." She states, her hands clasped behind her back, standing at near attention. "I trust you found your way around the facility as intended?"

The erstaz Christopher has his hands stuffed in his pockets and a small, politely curious smile on his face. He hasn't pried into any restricted areas yet, nor has he delved into any classified documents or files. Odd for him, as he's a naturally inquisitive person with little care when it comes to the concepts of property or privacy. Someone has been on his best behavior.

"I did," he replies, giving a quick jerk of his head to indicate site as a whole. "Impressive. Particularly the armory and the sickbay. If it weren't for my room, I'd think you wanted me to feel at home." His tone takes any insult from his words, turning it to a dry joke. As a man who rarely eats and barely sleeps, he's never been one to worry about living arrangements.

"The armory itself is a neccessity. I plan to make us our own funded agency but there's something to be said about contracted work."

Amanda moves away as the fights below begin to start, preferring to trust the current evaluating staff instead of adding in her own opinions. If they make the wrong choice, it'll be told in the field with the recruit dying within minutes.

As she walks towards the table, she gestures towards the files, drawing the box of them closer to herself to begin to arrange them. Each of them will be gone through herself, and 'Christopher' is able to help if he wishes. "As you can see this current operation is in it's infancy. We're currently building up your 'Red Coats', in which you'll be taking to task in their final evaluation. You'll have full clearance to use the lab and the medbay, as you will be their director. Hiring, will be left to you as well, if you are gone to oversee various missions." She leaned heavily on the 'if'. There also will be a time when Amanda cannot get into the field nor direct it. She, much to her dislike, would definitely have to handle the managing and the political side of the job.

That was a given.

"So, I called you here to alert you to a defunct member of the team. I want him brought in, alive. Disabled if you prefer, but alive."

She gestures towards the chair opposite the large table of where she stood. "Take a seat."

There's a soft, raspy sound as Able drags a thumb along his shoulder holster, thoughtfully tracing the chopped-down barrel of his weapon through the leather. He's watching the fights very closely, blue eyes darting back and forth between pairs of sparring partners. He doesn't speak on them either. Some only get a single glance, meaning that they have been weighed and measured and found wanting, while others receive far more consideration.

So intent is he that it takes a moment for him to realize that Waller has been talking to him. "Redshirts," he corrects her, his smile going a bit crooked as he turns away from the spectacle and takes the indicated seat, but he spins it around and straddles it. The business about hiring, firing, evaluation and leadership is a fairly standard agreement for them, so he simply nods his assent. "I've had a look at the personnel files. I saw a few promising candidates, but lets eat what we already have on our plate. Tell me more about our wayward sheep."

"Whatever."

Amanda didn't care what he called them, as long as they did their jobs and stayed out of her way.

She pulls out the rolling chair and settles in, the back of the seat rocking to adjust to her stature, her feet soon kipped up to cross one leg over the other as she drags herself closer. Files after files were briefly scanned, and soon one was tossed across the table. It was clear that the original vital statistics were crossed off. It was all a need to know.

"Codename Venom." She states, waiting for the pages to be flipped to show a complete behemoth of a monster in various states. Some on rooftops, other mid-feast, some just standing idly by while.. doing something. We'll leave that nameless.

"Suspected alien. I'm unsure if the previous person who ran the Thunderbolts have actually ran tests on this monster, but it's clear that its a valuable member that I'd like on my roster." She slides away from the desk and begins to pace, hands behind her back once more.

"However, he first came upon my radar not from the Thunderbolts, but an incident two months ago. Surveiled footage caught him and another unknown taking down a crew of anti-mutant yet mutant gang members, and him eating them whole. He moves quick, he has no remorse, and from the rabble of him and the other person, it seems as if they share a desire for pure violence."

She turns now, pacing again.

"I'm not too keen on having this unknown wander the streets as he does causing a ruckus. But one thing is clear, if he's a Thunderbolt, he'll need to be brought to heel. I trust you can put together a team of sorts to bring him in."

Able/Christopher steeples his fingers into a thoughtful triangle as he considers the task at hand. Tasks. There's always far too much to do and far too little time in this line of work. Recruit, evaluate, and train a team good for anything from bodyguard work to a scorched earth campaign. He's overdue to start a new batch of his specialized serum. He'll need to fetch a few weapons and pieces of equipment that he can't bear to be parted from. And a bag and tag of epic proportions.

The various photographs and partially redacted documents are enough to elicit a raised eyebrow and a low whistle from the new team leader. "Fascinating…" he murmurs, apparently undisturbed by the damages and death toll. "I assume this is everything we have on him? I'll comb through it and put a squad together, see if I can pick him up before he draws any more attention. I'd love to get a sample of whatever he is and put it under a microscope. Or in a microwave."

A bit more shuffling of paper, then he glances up at Waller. "I'll do what I can to keep things as quiet as possible, but if he puts up a fight…"

"He will put up a fight." Amanda says with definition.

"And yes, that's everything 'you' will have on him. The rest is very well above your paygrade." She doesn't sit down again, she just leans against the back of the chair with an arch to her back. "Since you're up for the task you do not have long to get a team together. I'll put out a quick bulletin of volunteers of whomever is left." Speaking of, Amanda moves towards the open display of below and looks down.

Already the concrete floor is filled with blood; broken bodies lay upon it while the remaining few were hunched over, hands upon knees, winded and breathing heavily.

A call comes over the intercom.. "Gather the recruits and send in the next twenty." They too, will be made to pair off and fight to the possible death. Three more rounds of this will occur until those left remaining will fight; and then the training can begin.

And an odd thing that; Amanda chose only humans to enroll.

"Like I said. Damage him, disable him, I do not care. I want them alive." And she uses the proper pronouns! "One last thing. You have thirty minutes to go through medical personnel, you'll have a batch of recruits to patch up. I want high standards, nothing less. If one of those sons of bitches shoot healing salve out their ass, I want them employed immediately. Understood?"

"What, you don't think my medical skills will be up to the task?" The doctor-turned-commander pushes the papers away from him to be considered later. Dissemination of intelligence is a tedious task better suited to the desk in his quarters. He holds up a hand to stall any protests and continues before Amanda can work in a verbal jab. "Understood, understood. Hire support staff, put together a strike team, take down what appears to be an incredibly dangerous metahuman without killing him. You never did think small or start slow."

Able pauses to watch as the next group of potential talent files in and pairs off. "I haven't failed you yet, I'm not about to start now," he says without looking away from the combatants. "Plus, I'm too curious about what makes this one tick to let him get away. I'll get your quartermaster a shopping list. I may have to strip the barracks and the armory to do it, but I'll bring your alien in alive."

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