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Bomb Shells drop in the Autumn Breeze [m-vl]


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[COLOR=DarkOrange] [FONT=Lucida Console]The year is 2029, you stand in the streets of London, smack dab in the center of a war between France and England. You move with the shadows of the street, professionally, using techniques you never learned, yet come so natural it?s as if you had been here since you were born. The primal instincts of fear and self-preservation have long since been wiped from your brain; when a mortar shell ignites the cobblestone not twenty yards in front of you, you regard it almost mechanically. A class 2 Mortar using 12 pound shells that struck the ground at an angle of about 85 degrees. They?re close. They?re almost right in front of you. You know that they?re your enemy, but you have no idea who they are.
Another mile in the shadows, and you come on a platoon with two mortars. Bingo. You?re twenty feet away, they see you and open fire. Hell of a time to remember: you?re unarmed.

Wait, let?s go back just a bit. It all started with Aritech.

The Aritech Corporation is the leading weapons development industry worldwide, with clients among Russia, Germany, even the United States Government. Two years ago, in an attempt to find test subjects for new war time developments, they petitioned the American supreme court to gain control over the rights of high security convicts on death row. This would mean a complete abolishment of the death penalty, as well as millions in tax dollars returned to the public which would have otherwise been spent on prison fees. The world supported them with resounding applause. To them, Aritech was a saint, taking these terrible people in and giving them a place in their own corporation. The supreme court voted unanimously to give them their rights. As did the courts in Russia. And Germany. And, well, you get the idea. The public had no idea what kind of a hell Aritech had in store for them. Don?t be angry at them, they just haven?t met you yet.
Six months later, four men went to the supreme court with a claim against Aritech. Hahaha, settle down, I know you want to kill them. I bet your blood boils just thinking about them, and what opportunities they stole from you. The four men, each convicts, who had been sentenced to servitude under Aritech, claimed that Aritech had framed each of them for their crimes, in order to gain their rights and servitude. The court battled for months, in a show that had the whole world on their feet. But that?s exactly what it was, a show. The four men were hired by Aritech to propose this claim against them, and in the final weeks of the case, call themselves frauds. One of the four men went to the stand, and confessed that he had actually killed his wife, and that he and the others had just blamed Aritech for it as a sort of payback. The four men were fakes from the start, and they became the laughing stock of the world, and Aritech remained a saint. Of course, it was all a ploy by Aritech to disprove any further allegations against them. If four frauds accused Aritech of framing them for murder and were disproved, nobody on Earth would believe another accusation of the same kind. This way, Aritech could safely do exactly what it had been accused of doing, framing young men and women in order to gain their rights and servitude.
Sound familiar? I suppose this marks the end of your life, or rather, the beginning, depending on how you see it. You weren?t so different from any of the others, framed for murder, convicted, sold to Aritech. It happened all over the world, to hundreds, thousands even. Aritech was building a convicted army of innocent men.
And you were all set to be one of them, another worker in the mindless masses of Aritech slaves. But you were chosen for something great. A new project, a biological training program to bring about the fearless soldier, cold to the world. Robotic in every way except that you were still alive. You were injected with twelve million dollars worth of nanomachines, and put to sleep for fifteen years. A fifteen year mental program that wrote war tactics directly onto your cerebral cortex, so advanced, that a twenty foot dash unarmed in London under heavy machine gun fire is just the mark of another new day. And in your new life, there is no hope of peace, or rest, or any future worth looking forward to.

[FONT=Palatino Linotype]:SIGNUPS:[/FONT]

The battle simulation on the streets of London end with a thud, as the last mortar operator falls to your feet. The voice that had narrated your past suddenly takes on the body of a middle aged blonde man in a suit. He smiles. [B]?The day is the 5,474th, or fifteen years minus one day, if you prefer. As you could have guessed, today is the final day of your fifteen year hibernation. You?ll be awake shortly, though where you will find yourself is of some mystery, even to me. Let?s go over your memory readouts, to check for any signs of amnesia.

What is your Name, do you remember?

How old were you when you went into this hibernation, fifteen years ago? (Don?t worry, the comatose suspended the natural degradation of your body, meaning you?ll physically be about the age you were frozen at.)

Tell me what you look like.

What is your nationality?

Tell me of your personality.

Tell me, what crime were you framed for?

You chose a weapon at the beginning of your hibernation, the use of which you were to be specially trained for. Can you tell me what weapon that is?

And tell me a little about yourself, your past.

Alright, everything checks out. Post minus ten hours to wake up. Good luck, soldier!?[/B]
You don?t know why, but the first thing you notice when you awaken is the time of year. It?s autumn.[/FONT][/COLOR]
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