Life in the Universal Union

Discussion in 'The Quest Log' started by Birdsie, Sep 6, 2017.

  1. @Thatoneflawedhero @The Black Rainbow @Gabriel97 @Archdemon

    You move closer to the corner and glance out with one side of your helmet, firing several shots from your pistol in the direction that you think the shoots may be coming from. You fire in short bursts of two to three bullets before moving your hand in the direction of another, possible target.

    Kaching. POW-POW---POW-POW---POW-POW...

    The exchange of fire lasts for several seconds until you finally notice the spot where the anti-citizens are shooting from. Your hand almost instinctively moves to shoot in that direction, you take aim, and you squeeze the trigger. You see one of the fires has ended. The bastard is dead or at least wounded. But before you can celebrate, you are met with a shower of bullets flying in your direction. You take cover instantly, small pieces of concrete being chipped out of the wall you are hiding behind. "Shit."

    You look to your right to see 51252 slowly remove the main block of ceramic on his chest in order to apply some medical gel. He's going to get out of this one, probably. The two of you are fairly safe for as long as 25551 is alive and keeps shooting back.

    "Civil Protection!" you hear a voice yell as soon as the sounds of distant, heavy footsteps can be heard. "Run!" another one yells before the shooting ends. You peek around the corner and aim your pistol forward, firing a glancing shot at one of the rebels that was running away. You hit him in his left arm and proceeded to run after him, but...

    "42342, wait," 25551 left his cover and grabbed your arm. "No time for that now. They're from an anti-citizen organization. That means they're falling back to the 404 zone," he explains. That's true, random thugs wouldn't have a way into 404 zone. It has to be some large, organized, and well-equipped group. And the camera wasn't an incident either. They planned this. Probably wanted to take you out and steal your equipment. "Take 51252 to the med-bay and report what happened to an officer. That's your priority. Do you copy?"

    "R-Rodger that," you reply. You look back at 51252 and help him walk. "Come on."

    As you pass by, you see two other teams of Civil Protection units led by 02 and 01-rank Ground Units approach 21551 and get briefed on what happened. You lead 51252 to the med-bay as ordered by your superior. 02 and 01 Ground Units can command any Civil Protection unit below the rank of 03, who is also the rank that receives the sub-machine gun as standard-issue equipment. In other words, 03's are like pseudo-veterans, but 02 and 01 are like the Corporals and Sergeants if you were to compare them to a pre-War army. A Field Officer (OfC,) the rank above 01 on another hand, is comparable to a pseudo-Lieutenant. Above a Field Officer are only the Elite Patrol Units (EpU) and above them are Division Leaders (DvL,) who are governed by the Sectorial Commander (SeC,) who is advised by the Commanders (CmD.) That could be said to be the ranking system of the CCA. A Sectorial Commander, obviously, takes command of all local MPF units in the sector. In this case, your Sector is the Industrial Sector of City 17. In your case, the Sectorial Commander's ID is 88442, but you've never seen him in person. Fitting, seeing as you are comparable to a Private, or Private First Class while he's closer to a Colonel, or even Two-Star General.


    After having dealt with a few aching wounds with the help of the HELIX units, and of course babysitting 51252 for a while, you reported to Field Officer 10552.

    Walking in through a set of plastic doors surrounded by concrete, you enter a room entirely built out of industrial concrete. It was hard to tell what it smelled like because of your gasmask. The room's edges and corners sometimes had black wires, or other mechanical contrivances running through them, making it clear to you that this room was fit in here just to serve some purpose because there was extra space and that the mechanical pieces are a part of some bigger, greater construct. In the center of the room, there is a small, wooden desk. On it lies, a few papers, pens, containers for office tools, a small cactus plant, an old newspaper, and a slightly futuristic computer screen out of black metal with a shining blue desktop.

    You salute to the officer, saying the Metropolitan Police Force motto: "Serve. Prosecute. Administer."

    Behind the desk sits a single unit. Clad in armor very similar to you save for slightly modified color palette of the suit and an armband that read: MPF-c17.ind-UNION-OfC-10552. With just a simple hand gesture, the Officer invites you to sit down. You approach and sit down in a small, cheap chair, opposite to the silent officer.


    "I have a few questions for you, 42342," he said in a smooth, vibrant voice, but you can tell that he meant to say it much colder and it was his mask's vocoder that distorted the voice to make it warmer. "First of all. What happened in Zone 12?"

    "We were attacked by anti-citizens during a check of broken camera appliances. 51252 told me the circuitry was cut. Sir, I think it was planned by someone."
    "Someone?" 10552's voice was suggestive. He looked at you quietly, his gaze penetrating your soul like a large, merciless dagger through the soft flesh of a helpless animal.
    "Malignants. A group of malignants. 25551 said they were most likely a large organized group," you gulp. Why do you have to make the report? Creepy bastard is trying to give you the heebie-jeebies. Probably enjoying it too. Still, you composed yourself and calmed down very quickly.
    The officer sighs. "Very well, anything else?" he suddenly sounded bored. Probably because you controlled your fear against his amusement.
    "There was a lot of shooting," you say, a bit meekly, with no idea of what else to say.
    "Yes, yes, I'm sure it was quite an experience," he said, in a patronizing, childish tone. "Each little problem like a grain of sand, collecting through the night. Each day, I inherit the desert."

    Oh, that's right. You remember what happened two months ago. Apparently, the Sectorial Commander made a troop inspection somewhere prior to May of this year. He discovered a large percentage of unacceptable corruption amongst Field Officers, and even Elite Patrol Units were apparently conspiring, although you have no idea how blindly loyal sociopaths can disobey orders like that. Rumors go around that they brainwash the Commissioned Officers to ensure much higher obedience and professional behavior, but you doubt that actual brainwashing is given to anyone, save for, perhaps 01 units who are nearly always cold, ruthless killers. You shiver and dread to think of becoming one, but hey -- a promotion is a promotion, even if you're a sociopath. You'd do nearly anything for better living conditions.

    Either way, because of a large amount of corruption, the Sectorial Commander literally purged half of the staff and there are large lacks in the command chain to this day, but it is slowly 'regenerating,' so to speak. You can imagine how he 'inherits the desert.'

    "Sir, permitted to leave?" you ask, not wanting to be in that office for even one second longer.
    He stops and thinks. "Yeah, sure. Affirmative, you're free to go," he waves his hand dismissively. "By the way, ration cycles are starting in 1 hour. It's almost noon. I want you to oversee the Ration Distribution Center by the Nexus. You can go eat afterward. Don't worry though, I've already assigned a unit to give them out."

    You nod and leave quickly.

    Sheesh, what a creepy creep.

    You proceed to the Ration Distribution Center, where your duty goes by without any minor troubles. A few citizens were pushing each other a bit and acting generally impatient, but one, focused, silent, cold glare from you was enough to make them step back and calm down very quickly. The rest goes by without any real action. You just stood around and waited for everyone to get their share of goodies from the dispenser before your fellow officer locked it down for the next 6 hours until the next distribution cycle. Such is life here. Upon the end of your Ration Shift, you have an hour of free time on your daily chart. What do you do?
    Author's Note/Funfact:
    Option 2 would change depending on the way we got into the force. As Determined, we get to train. As a Hero, we would be signing autographs for other units with a sigh and chatting with the Administrator and drinking tea/dining with him. With "Lack of Humanity," we would go on a 'patrol' and just look for troublesome individuals to beat up with excessive force. And with "Wit & Intelligence," it would be reading a few reports in the data banks to predict the next move of the anti-citizens that shot at us earlier, with a 60-40 chance of actually cracking the case instantly.

    Option 3 would on another hand be option 4 if we picked another division. Then, that option by itself would also change depending on Division. As a Helix we'd go to the medbay to help with tending to injured units, as a Grid we'd go to the underground workshop to help with the repairs and maintenance of APC's and as a Jury, we'd conduct a questioning/interrogation/torture session (same thing for the Jury division, really,) while as the 2 Nonstandards: As Shadow, we'd go to adjust our gadgets, while as a Sword we'd prepare for the honorific ceremony that is taking place tomorrow because of a new member in the division.

    [1.] Get some grub in the cafeteria. Sit down with the other units, take off your cumbersome plasteel mask and finally sink into the good stuff that you are given for being in the force. The citizens? They get cheap water and an organic, barely edible mush. You? You get a tasty fizzy drink, a milkshake of any 3 tastes: chocolate, strawberry, vanilla; with extra proteins, a very large supplement of nutritious mush, rice, and pieces of meat covered in sauce, as well as a bit of bread. Who wouldn't sell their morals out for this?
    [2.] Go to the training room. This isn't the time to slow down. You need to work hard each and every single day. That includes improving your shooting skills at the shooting range as well as calisthenics and general fitness training. Go run a few laps and do some push-ups like a real man. ('Determined' trait.)
    [3.] Go and look around somewhere else. If so, where?
    [3.1.] The prison cells. Maybe ask a Jury unit if you can help them in a questioning session? Do the bad-cop-good-cop act? You're pretty bored.
    [3.2.] The laboratory. Let's see what the egg-heads are up to. They might not enjoy your presence, though, since some stuff is off-limits.
    [3.3.] The Xenotherium Subservilla cells. Ask the Vortigaunts what's up and give them a bit of a scare -- the officers encourage this to force the filthy aliens into submission.
    [3.4] Somewhere else. (Write-in. If there is no existing location, I will have the character go to the nearest existing equivalent.)​
    [4.] Something else. (Write-in.)
    Fezzes likes this.
  2. [4.] Go back to the area that the rebels shot us from to investigate.
  3. 1 and then, if possible, 3-1.
  4. I doubt they will let you leave the Nexus, other units are on the job already.
    Thatoneflawedhero likes this.
  5. Then can I talk to the vortigaunts but without scaring them?

    If so I rather do that.
  6. 2. We should be always be the best that we can be. Plus it makes sense for our trait that we do this.
  7. Option 2 would be good indeed. We are determined. We WANT that promotion, and we will do anything that is in our power to get it.
  8. We don't have to want it.

    We never specified we were dedicated to the union.
  9. I think this one means that you'd do anything to get promoted. But I don't want to
  10. Personally I think this character in my perception while being determined wouldn't care for a promotion so I'm staying with my option.
  11. Sure ^^
    Sorry if I said "We" but I was referring to archdemon :P
    Thatoneflawedhero and Archdemon like this.
  12. I'm still staying with my option but if I can I would also like to vote for 3.1 if I can have two votes.
  13. FUCKER.
  14. We don't have to be a bad guy just because we're a unit
  15. 1. We do need to eat. Shouldn't neglect that.

    Also, may I say, I like the writing so far.
  16. You already voted. I said tie-breaker, not a repetition.
    Thatoneflawedhero likes this.
  18. 1
  19. Oh, shit, didn't notice. I'll post an update tomorrow once I wake up.
    Fezzes and Archdemon like this.
  20. @Thatoneflawedhero @The Black Rainbow @Gabriel97 @Archdemon

    You hear a sound. A weird sound, like the growling of an alien. You turn around preparing to face whatever's coming your way, but.... the room is empty of any signs of life. And then, it comes to you. You realize what a terrible mistake you had made...

    It was your stomach. You are hungry.

    With no other idea on what to do, you proceed to the cafeteria.


    As a pair of metallic doors slides open to the left and right, revealing a small room of concrete to you, you are instantly called over by 21505, a fellow 04 unit that you've had the pleasure to work with a few times in the past. He's diligent, but a little stupid at times. He makes up for it with his willpower though. He's determined just like you, maybe even a little more. "42342, over here!" he calls out, waving in your direction.

    The room is fairly small. There are eight tables with two benches on both sides, all of them white and a bit old. To your left, on another hand, is a trash bin, and next to it is the Civil Protection Ration Dispenser. From the looks of it, most units in these parts are already done eating. The cafeteria looks ghastly and lonely. There's only 21505, and a pair of 03's in the corner. You also see a lonely GRID-06 that probably doesn't have any friends yet so to speak of. Ah, these recruits. Deciding to leave the GRID alone to toughen him up, you proceed to the ration dispenser and take your meal before sitting down opposite of 21505.

    "What's up?" he asks. You look up at him while removing the magnetic seals at the back of your head and removing your white, plasteel mask in order to eat. "Not much. Got into a shootout with a couple of rebels today," you unpack your plastic spoon and dip it into the small portion of rice on your plate, "damn bastards are getting cockier and cockier day by day."

    "Not to worry, though," he says. "I heard Overwatch is going to sweep 404 and the sewers soon enough. If that's true, then we're gonna say goodbye to them."

    "Why not just bomb them with headcrab canisters?" you ask, bringing the spoon closer to your mouth and eating a piece of meat and some rice.

    21505 drinks a sip of his protein shake before responding. "You can't bomb sewers with anything. The 'crabs would disperse too soon. They won't make zombies without victims, and they won't get victims if it isn't a surprise attack." True. He has a point. Maybe it'd be better to not waste resources and send in the OTA instead.

    "Welp, I have a patrol duty in District 5. Gotta go," 21505 stands up putting his white gasmask on and taking the plastic plate he was using to the trash bin.


    As you are halfway through your meal, you hear something on the radio. It must be urgent if you, an off-duty unit can receive it. Usually, radio communications reach a district-wide scale and don't go beyond any other patrol units outside of your district. If it can reach a whole sector, that's impressive, but if even off-duty units receive the transmission, that's bad.

    "All units, Code Red in District 7! We have a Code 666; Exogen Breach. I repeat, Thumper failure in District 7. They're everywhere! Shi---" you hear a buzzing on the other side before the transmission is cut short. An exogen must have gotten him.

    You continue your meal, afraid, although knowing that 04-rank units are to never respond to threats of this level. As you continue to eat, several Overwatch units run on the railway above the cafeteria and the 03 units that were eating run out of the room, loading up their submachine guns.

    You hear more and more messages. Most of them are cut short.

    "11-99, officer down, officers need assist--Aghh!!-" You recognize the codes used by them. 11-99 means "immediate assistance required."

    "We have twenty-five DBs or more in District 7." DB means "dead bodies."

    "Exogens moving to District 6. Increased pheromone activity detected."

    "10-2000 in District 4! They're everywhere!" 10-2000 means "reinforcements required."

    "District 5 needs help! We have exogen breaches all over the area. Thumpers are offline---bzzt--agh!"

    "Field Officers, requesting Judgement Waiver! Requesting immediate clamps on Districts 4 to 7!" A Judgement Waiver is a state in which Citizens are ordered to remain in their designated housing blocks and stay off the streets -- a kind of lockdown or police hour of sorts. Clamps are, to put it simply, methods of locking down a location from others.

    Shit. 21505 said he was going to District 5, didn't he? You need to do something about this. You have to go out... but it's against protocol.

    [1.] Screw protocol. Go to aid District 5 and if anyone asks, you were already there and didn't have a chance to evacuate.
    [2.] Stay where you are, chew on the resentment, and finish your meal, knowing that your comrades are dying out there.
  21. 1. Can't risk losing our only friend.
  22. Yourself*

    We have plenty of friends. We ain't no nolife.

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