Description: Second chances are rare in life. Bolivar Montero Diez grew up in Venezuala, the only son of aristocrats affiliated with the booming oil industry; His parents killed by an assassin. He has another chance to try and turn his life around. All he has to do is find a girl who is suspected of being kidnapped rather than killed. Her mother and prosecutor father assassinated, imprisoned and experimented on by her captors. Is anyone more deserving of being rescued? Second chances are rare in life; but sometimes they come about too late for someone to change the course their lives have taken.
Bolivar Montero Diez sat in a small United Nations office on the fifth floor of a government building in Kobe, having flown in on the Red Eye from China. After a fitful night on sleeping pills to compensate for jet lag, he arrived in the office of the local United Nations clandestine intelligence officer, also a liaison to the Japanese Self Defense Force, a man of half-Korean half-Japanese descent. The man was perfect for his job since he was an outcast from both societies because of his shared bloodline, the product of a man who could never find love in a Japanese woman's arms because of his own personal failings with his need for overeating. A black belly, they say. A selfish eater. A fatal quality in Nippon, but the mark of a saint in Korea.
Bolivar sat down across the desk from the half-breed, the Venezuelan holding a styrofoam cup of the Vietnamese-grown coffee they had available, this operation on a minimum budget, not out of any concern for logistics, but rather to keep a low profile from local Yakuza, known to cooperate with the biggest problem for the United Nations in Japan: SIN. The intelligence operative looked up with tired eyes, forever driving himself too hard in his work to forget the pain of not being able to find a wife in this land, only in the arms of a comfort woman, an outcast whose slavery was more official than his. Bolivar sipped his coffee quietly with a tilt, the two exchanging a long glance before the picture of Juri Han was slipped across the desk. The half-breed's sad eyes told the story before the mission briefing even began.
Just an hour before rush hour, when the traffic was at a lull but would erupt later in a snarl to mask an escape on foot if necessary, Bolivar stepped out of a taxi, dressed in his typical khaki suit, black sunglasses on his eyes with the proper style to indicate he was a government asset should local police get involved. He walked slowly with a swagger in his step, right arm dragging back a tic as he considered the hidden SIN facility before him. A small housing complex made of cubical buildings rising up a bramble-ridden hill, a sign outside marking it as a corporate housing complex for the pharmaceutical laboratory that SIN operates just up the road. Bolivar walked directly for the entrance and the fence, knowing that with Shadaloo, an infiltration would only be possible if he crippled everyone in his path to rescue Juri Han from her captors.
Near the front gate a plain dressed figure breaks away. Strolling forward to make acquaintance with this unscheduled and unknown arrival the guy in the plain uniform bears a uniform that matches the corporate signage. Drab colouring and immaculately pressed the guy in grey is conspicuously well equipped with a large tool belt containing radio, firearms as well as approximately seven assorted flavours of non-lethal incapacitant's. There was a lot more call for it than using the firearms. The radio attached Near chest level was faintly buzzing with faintly out of tune radio chatter and falls silent as he make shis approach.
"Exscuse me sir. I don't recognize you so I was wondering if you were perhaps.. lost?"
Not all the bigwigs chose to show up announced but there were usually enough people on duty to convey it to the front gate sin some kind of advance warning. That or the guards who were still here and alive tended to have better than average survival instincts.
This was just the first hurdle and the guard people were meant to see patrolling and keeping order, as well as maybe company secrets that were being held in some of the buildings safe. Private property, trespassers will be shot was usually enough of a deterrent to keep respectable or the uninitiated at a distance.
In the distance however as a precaution boots had already hit the floor and armed and armoured troopers were already heading to their stations, it's possible the latest convoy and scheduled delivery had been tailed. It happened from time to time; relatives come looking for 'new employees' who just couldn't be disturbed in their work just now.
Bolivar slowly comes to a halt as the guard stops him, his hands at his sides as if ready to draw pistols. He looks at the guard's feet, slowly scanning upwards to his face. Polite. Kind. Pleasant. And well armed. This man could easily be a police officer in any small town on the planet. In Venezuela, this man would be a bodyguard to an important person. Bolivar's mouth slowly turns into a frown, the muted sadness he found inside himself after beating another inmate in Mississippi's prison system rising to his face again. This man did not do anything wrong. He just broke a code of man, probably for this reason or that. Bolivar, in his decade in prison, did not learn peace, mercy, or God. He prayed for all three, but only found himself looking in the mirror. His hand rose up, in the pregnant silence, running his hand along the back of his head and then down his neck, as if wiping away sweat.
And then, the attack came. With his head to the side, apparently not focusing on the guard, his eyes were still quite omnipresently upon the SIN gate guard. Without apology or quarter, he dropped his arm as he juked forward and spun around backwards, extending his leg heel up to perform a sweep, fingers touching the ground opposite the guard with himself as the fulcrum of the swift rotation. And as he came out of the maneuver, his hands clenched into fists. "Sorry, friend. Perhaps you shall strike me in the next world."
COMBATSYS: Bolivar has started a fight here.
COMBATSYS: C.M.S. #4 has joined the fight here.
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Bolivar 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 C.M.S. #4
COMBATSYS: Bolivar successfully hits C.M.S. #4 with Light Kick.
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Bolivar 0/-------/-------|=------\-------\0 C.M.S. #4
The crack and give to the blow telegraphs the outcome long before the heavy impact of the body striking and coming to rest on the ground; with its jingling of keys and rattling of loose canisters falling free. The guy had to be dead from the way his neck was contorted and it wasn't taking long for word to get, just a second later the radio squawks out its request for a check in and status report.
The team of men in full black combat gear with silenced assault weapons waits impatiently for their 'go' order and begin filtering out deeper into the complex in two's and threes to cover avenues of approach an intruder might find expedient or carelessly use.
"Take a defensive stance and report location on encounter. "
Swinging weapons wide and leaning to peer around corners they advance cautiously through the compound toward the entrance. Their speciality was containment and management of the test subjects, and thus most of the hive's defences were directed inwards against an outbreak.
The teamwork is flawed and hurriedly executed but no so lowly as to leave an opening or one of them exposed and alone, the C.M.S. were still held to the same standard as regular Shadaloo squads but with differing allegiances and a pay scale to reflect that, as well as the perks of the job.
COMBATSYS: C.M.S. #4 calculates his next move.
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Bolivar 0/-------/-------|=------\-------\0 C.M.S. #4
Bolivar kneels down beside the man who's neck he just broke, placing his fore and middle fingers over the man's eyelids and closing them. He then looks up, slowly, towards the dispersing assault troopers, scanning from left to right as he lifts his left forearm. He slips the sleeve of his suit back and removes his kapap blade from the leather bracer beneath his suit, and swivels it around it hold it blade down, curling it into his palm with his fingers.
Bolivar breaks into a dead sprint left, his black combat boots grinding with quick footfalls across the asphalt of the Kobe housing complex. He skids as he changes direction just as he reaches a wall, precious inches from jamming his ankle inwards. He jumps over a barricade a squad of troopers are hiding behind, falling into their number and slashing left and right with his blade with two fast turns, aiming at their necks with precise cuts, before he twists about and attempts to dispatch another soldier with a cut downwards while his left arm wraps around him to use him, and his body armor, as a human shield against weapons fire.
COMBATSYS: C.M.S. #4 blocks Bolivar's Ruby Carnation.
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Bolivar 0/-------/-------|==-----\-------\0 C.M.S. #4
The first two troopers step back rather into their own barricade while horrified attempt to parry the knife slashes with unwieldy weapons they had strapped and tied to their armour. The second drops hold of his weapon and focuses on the gout of red erupting from the side of his neck. The third trooper fares better in hand to hand combat and releases hold of the gun to instead stop the knife shy of his unarmoured vitals.
Arm's fighting the downward stroke with both hands pressed to either side of the knife, resisting quite strongly the held trooper starts making his own move -- right up until the moment he's peppered with lead as the only surviving unharmed trooper at this junction opens up on both he and Bolivar. Full unrestrained automatic fire as the rookie unloads the entire clip at Bolivar and his hostage. Weapons fire loud enough to surely drawn in the other elements of the squad moving as quickly as they could.
COMBATSYS: Bolivar blocks C.M.S. #4's Suppressive Fire.
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Bolivar 0/-------/------=|==-----\-------\0 C.M.S. #4
Bolivar jacks the trooper upwards with his left arm, the bullets hitting his hostage and grazing him across his arm. He throws the shot trooper aside and charges at the rookie, teeth gritting as he goes on the attack again. He turns about and swings out to the left side, his left forearm snapping out with a sudden thrust of force directed at the panicked trooper's face. "HRGH!" comes Bolivar's grunt, his arm and upper body shaking with tension after he unleashes the blow, holding himself there for a moment. To Bolivar, this feels suspiciously like fighting SWAT troopers, except they're more afraid.
ODROP::OSUCC::Ayame leaves the main road for a path towards the shrine in the distance.
COMBATSYS: Bolivar successfully hits C.M.S. #4 with Hammer Hare Strike.
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Bolivar 0/-------/------=|====---\-------\0 C.M.S. #4
The assaulted trooper slides toward the ground with the helmet covering his head having taken on entirely new shape and the wall where his head made impact liberally swathed in red and then smeared in the direction the body fell. The only immediate sound noticeable after the body begins it's sickening fall is the whisk of steel as the shot soldier comes back around with his own knife. A suspiciously Rambo looking Vietnam-era survival knife which he passes across into his other hand before waving it about threateningly.
It's when another trooper vaults the barricade in one smooth move and comes running across while winding up to 'swing for the fences' with a telescopic baton that more closely resembles a black metal baseball bat than a truncheon. The two approaching from opposing sides with lunging slashes trying to pass by on either side of their opponent.
COMBATSYS: Bolivar blocks C.M.S. #4's Pincer Movement.
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Bolivar 0/-------/-----==|====---\-------\0 C.M.S. #4
Bolivar's eyes move to either side as he slides his kapap knife back up his sleeve, his hands opening as he takes a wide, low stance, a side to either approaching soldier. He spins about to reverse the position as they close in on them, grabbing the wrist with the incoming knife and pulling it forward to strip it with a quick knee butt to the fingers clasping it.
The baton slams down on his shoulder and produces a pained groan from the UN operative, his arm whipping around as he looks the other way to slap his palm around the forearm holding the baton.
Bolivar kicks his leg up into the knife thrusting soldier's forearm with his grip still on the wrist of the hand that previously held the knife, before he turns about as graceful as a ballerina and twists his arm around to force the baton wielding soldier to the ground with a spinning wrench. He releases both limbs regardless of the success, his adrenaline pounding in his brain.
COMBATSYS: C.M.S. #4 fails to interrupt Strong Throw from Bolivar with Attrition Warfare EX.
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Bolivar 0/-------/----===|=====--\-------\0 C.M.S. #4
The trooper releasing hold of the knife does so while also cursing up a storm while the other whoops into battle with a yell and relishes his strike on getting home. Nobody could handle two professionals like they were at the same time. She's rendered mute with disbelief when they're actually manhandled to the ground and impotently glares and the man who was formerly holding a knife urging him to get stuck-in. It's the whoop that gives her away in the generic and unflattering body armour as actually being a woman somewhere under all that body armour. C'mon! While the terrorist guy here has his hands tied up. For lack of anything better to do she tries lobbing the truncheon away to her stricken comrades with what movement she can get out of her arm and proceeds to struggle on hand-to-hand.
Bolivar calculates that he has seized an advantage, and instead of a kata form to balance his chi, or even a taunt, he merely lashes out his hand for the female trooper, the one he judges as more competent. Attempting to grab the shoulder on the wounded arm, if he finds his purchase he pulls her forward and keels her down, before his right knee blasts upwards for a shot to the lower ribs and upper abdominals. This one, she is brave, and she really believes in whatever cause drew her to Shadaloo. Do they even realize what they're fighting for? Medical experiments and captive humans in the worst horror one can imagine, a complete loss of power on all levels? His mind flashes back to prison he was sent to, and he steels his heart, even if he feels a frog in his throat for a brief moment as his leg thrusts into his downward push.
COMBATSYS: Bolivar successfully hits C.M.S. #4 with Junkyard Knee.
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Bolivar 0/-------/----===|=======\=====--\1 C.M.S. #4
The woman emits one last wheezing wumph as the air is driven from her compacted lungs though the ceramic plated armour that ceases all recognisable protest. Under all this pressure the armour is probably doing more to harm than help with it limiting the movement of her arms and applying pressure to her torso in segments which refuse to budge. The creaking of the armour is ominous in of itself.
The rattle of grenades rolling to a stop at bolivar's feet and right within the soldiers line of sight causes an end to her struggles, her head twisting to face her comrade, who still favoured his hand yet was grinning maniacally through the ballistic weave balaclava.
Her last words to him she forces out with as much venom as she can muster.
"You - son of a-"
COMBATSYS: Bolivar full-parries C.M.S. #4's Scorched Earth!!
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Bolivar 0/-------/-======|====---\-------\0 C.M.S. #4
Bolivar looks down at the grenade, and sweeps around with his legs, knocking the grenades up into the air as his hands touch the ground in a complex acrobatic maneuver that is pure instinct combined with pure reason, executed with rapid intelligence. The grenades explode in the air above them, and Bolivar kicks the woman aside, sparing her, as he goes dashing for the trooper that threw the explosives. He draws his knife again, and as shrapnel rains down along with sparks and smoke, he drops down low, before surging upwards at the trooper, attempting to jam his knife upwards behind the soldier's ribs, into his lungs, with a lifting surge of strength.
COMBATSYS: Bolivar successfully hits C.M.S. #4 with Rhino Knife EX.
-* CRITICAL HIT! *-
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Bolivar 0/-------/-======|=======\-------\1 C.M.S. #4
The grin on the troopers face intensifies as he anticipates the detonation and all the while staring Bolivar down; just shy of asalivating and licking his chops. The grenades being scooped up though forces him though a storm of emotions, his look twisting from sadistic glee to one of utter astonishment. Transfixed by the display his eyes follow the path of the grenades right up; as they pop harmlessly in mid-air the jaw falls slack. The female soldier when cast aside had made a respectable crash against a wall and smashes off a plate sized chuck of the adobe, still struggling and moving but near incapacitated.
The maniac of a soldier makes a wet splashing noise form his throat while still looking up, when his eyes fall to meet Bolivar's the blood dripping over his chin and lack of words fail to communicate anything through words, the spreading smile and pink teeth commune his intent much better. Then he falls, twitching even still on the ground. The solider that had been holding his neck is also down but still showing signs of life. Only the woman seemingly remaining conscious.
The Velcro tearing as she pulls a secondary from it's holster and rapidly unloads the five shells at Bolivar's back, some thanks for saving her life!
COMBATSYS: C.M.S. #4 can no longer fight.
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COMBATSYS: Bolivar full-parries C.M.S. #4's Shock and Awe!!
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Bolivar stares the soldier in the face, offering him a slow smile and a nod of approval before the man dies, before he places his left hand on the SIN trooper's shoulder and pulls the knife out, sliding it back into the bracer beneath his sleeve. As he hears the velcro tear, he performs a Zipota leap to the side, an acrobatic one handed inverted gavotte away from the first shell, before he makes an arc around, running from each shell, until he finally catches up to the woman after jumping towards her, over the last shot. His foot lands on her wrist, smashing it to the ground and forcing the gun to fall aside. "Goodnight." He then shoves his right palm into her forehead with a quick bounce, with enough force to knock her out cold without doing lethal damage. He looks around him, shrugging his shoulders and straightening his suit, the khaki now splashed with blood. He slowly walks through the facility, adjusting his sunglasses and looking at the various buildings that make up the compound.
Two technicians fuss over some paper notes, as they switch hard drives in and out of a bank as the computers seemingly hardle more of the tasks in an automated fashion than they themselves are trusted to do. On the bed occupying the centre of the room a half dressed young woman lays while automated mechanical arms probe and zoom. Focusing tightly on and weaving around the left side of her face. The sought after target of this whole investigation: Juri Han. Lying inert and sedate with tender features, it's at least somewhat hard to tell if she is awake or not because her left eye only is open while she is absolutely still.
The mechanical probes playing at shifting laser pointer dots around the surface of her eye as the iris continuously shifts to evade the lights. Reams of information scroll across the large display screens while technicians finish taking notes, strings of numbers relating to speed of response versus light infiltration measuring her reflex adjustments to the speed and patterns of the lasers.
The girl is older than is depicted in the pictures, the picture of her as Bolivar was sent after was of a teen and this girl has matured more, but is leaner and has more defined musculature. The rigors S.I.N must be subjecting it's test subjects to must be gruelling.
The uninterrupted monitor stream switches for just a moment to monitoring what is clearly a female skull but with a small cluster of metal and cybernetics backed up behind the left eye socket and encroaching into the brain of the victim. There's no sign of any MRI or scanning equipment on the table but it could very well be hers.
Bolivar stands at the door to the lab, leaning against the door with his right hand in his pocket, watching quietly. As the technicians work, the bloody United Nations operative steps in, observing the laboratory and the two SIN operatives inside. This is not what he had pictured, when he thought of Shadaloo and kidnapped girls and scientific experiments. In fact, it's not what the United Nations had pictured, either. He steps up to the end of the table, at Juri's feet, then looks silently at the technicians, his face completely neutral, but rather gristly, having not once touched his jaw and mouth to clean the blood away from the knife fighting he was doing just minutes earlier.
The work continues unabated. Even when one of the technicians turns enough to register Bolivar's presence there's no recognition of threat. Only a move to make a scribbled footnote that from a certain time period the experiments were being observed, stylus scribbling in shorthand on an electronic pad.
A camera in the corner of the room conducts a sweep away from the experiment in progress with an electronic buzzing and the machines conducting their torturous ballet above the girls face slows to a crawl. They begin to retract back upon themselves into a device that appears less sinister than the whole was when extended and the whole lab appears to enter a rest period. Data crawl continues and a trolley full of the collected hard drives continues to be switched out trying to keep up with the backlog of buffered information. A clearly artificial voice chimes out loudly though these particular labs, notable speech problems as it slowly pronounces words it has no common usage for..
"Crisis Management Squad to laboratory ...four... Activating: Feng, Shui, engine #1A."
The natural iris in the girls eye shifts and seems to light up unnaturally, a building whine seeming to emanate with the glow even as she starts to stir. Both eyes screwing shut the same time the mouth turns down in a glower and her eyes flutter some before they both open. When she does sit up it's into an inelegant sprawl on the surface of the bed. The whine decreasing in pitch to more of a constant drone while Juri yawns and cricks her neck while massaging at her shoulder a little. Too much time on the bench.
It was unusual for her to have company, especially someone decked out in her favourite scent. Immediately suspicious she just stares waiting for them to make the first move.
Bolivar purses his lips as he hears the artificial voice, before he slowly walks around to the side of the table as Juri awakes. Not realizing that Juri has already slid down the path into the madness of Shadaloo, he extends his right hand. "Juri Han. My name is Bolivar Montero Diez. I am from the United Nations. I am here to rescue you." His face softens as his hand turns palm up, brows knitting together as he recalls his own rescue from the American prison he was becoming an animal in. "You can be human again," he says quietly.
Juri prompts the feng shui engine to settle down into an idle state. It was some effort to do since the thing felt so damn good to use. Twisting so that her legs fall and dangle freely the girl positions herself with her back to the intruder who so brazenly was watching her sleep.
"To rescue me ...aren't you a few years late? Agent Diaz."
Her lips twist in a bitter smile that's completely hidden from view while she has her back to Diez and it's gone in favour of the scowl when she slips of the table to stand unsteadily.
"Why now? ..what could have changed between now and then?"
The fact she had secrets and power patched into the wounds in her head from when she was abandoned the last time? Had her worth gone up so much that now the UN was taking an interest. But based on what? She was keeping a very low profile.
"Let me make a guess. After you save me I'll vanish away to some happy ranch somewhere and live my life happy and freely. Job well done."
She straightens properly, the intoxicating effects of the Feng Shui Engine on a body still shrugging off the General Anastesia.
"Or I'd wind up in another laboratory having pieces taken out of my skull for study."
And all the King's horses and all the King's men-
Bolivar's soft look tenses, as if he's suddenly grown older, the look of a convict returning to his face, the familiarity of dealing with another convict. She raises an excellent point. Hidden by his sunglasses, he focuses on the cybernetic eye. That was what the United Nations wanted. They wanted to study the technology. His entire mission was a lie. Even his liaison was in the dark about this one.
"I am sorry, Ms. Han. You have been used. And I am used regularly." His teeth clench in a communication of just how badly. "The choice is yours." He makes no arguments. There is no force here, no persuasion, no lies. "It is a selection between risks, is what a strategist would call it. I made the same one as you, years ago. The one I picked is why I am here."
Well! That was refreshingly frank. The girls eyes almost cross for a moment and when then a look of puzzlement. She can't even recall the last time she saw someone try and be sincere with or apologize to her. Most apologies and appeals were usually the 'I'll never tell, please spare me!' variety that came part and parcel with dealing with some of Shadaloo and S.I.N's dirty little secrets.
This was rather novel and unexpected at least.
A lengthy sigh before muttering something under her breath; Ga-jae-neun ge pyeoni-ra (the crayfish sides with the crab.) Pushing away from the table she finds her feet and totters toward the door, she wasn't attached to anything she had left here and if the place was compromised by whatever sized force she'd best make herself scarce.
"Just do what you want to do, or run away and take control of your life back."
Life was much too short to lose being someone's dog. She was gambling hard on just how rare and unique a position she was in being the only living recipient of the FSE that wasn't cored from the inside out even being linked to it - Or exploding.
"Oh, I knowc you should get out of here while you can. Before the Cee Em Ess freaks get to you."
She should show some kind of manners and concern since he came all the way out here to offer to save her. It's more than anyone else had ever bothered to do.
"Everyone needs a purpose, Juri," he says softly, as he walks past her on her right side, not looking in her direction. He pauses, looking left, faintly over his shoulder to catch her out of the corner of his sunglasses. "Even the lost." He steps out of the compound, and begins walking back out, raising his right wrist and tapping a button on a wristband with his left hand. "Subject not present. Requesting police pickup." He taps the button again, turning it off, and walks out of the compound. A police van pulls up, and he puts his hands up. Police officers cuff him and put him in the back, driving away.
As Bolivar uncuffs himself and ponders his life, he removes his sunglasses, staring at his reflection in them as he holds them in his bloody hands.
Back in the lab. The lab techs cease their scheduled operations as the last of the data is collected one of them starts wheeling the trolley away while the other begins a quick dismantling of the equipment in the room. Word from on high was that the facility was compromised and steps needed to be taken.
In just 40 minutes the majority of high value assets recovered and moved to the vans was complete. The first one to roll down to the front gate pauses by a corpse nearby, seconds later the corpses struggles to stand and has to steady its own head with a hand as it totters over to and climbs into the van.
The rear seats in the van all occupied by black clad figures all seated quietly. Blood continues to drip to the floor but each and every member of the C.M.S is accounted for. Occasional tremors and twitches as cybernetic systems fail and attempt to reboot and life saving measures struggle to keep them at nominal levels of functionality.
The new passenger turns to ask the driver.
"Who the fuck was that guy? Was that Guile or some shit?"
The tech doesn't deign to answer and the guard rather than expecting an answer starts fussing with his head and neck, trying to get it to sit straight once again. Shit, he's all messed up now, what did the guy say? Something about 'in his next life.'
As the lead van pulls away from the facility about a three minute stretch down the dirt road there's a clatter on the rooftop, bare feet landing on metal and causing the guard to raise his eyebrows and glance up. That was the last piece to pick up.
"We're heading to extract point three now. Assets all accounted for."
With the last words a distant thump and as powerful incendiary devices take care of as much evidence as possible triggering a chain reaction through some of the 'gas mains.'
COMBATSYS: Bolivar has ended the fight here.
Log created on 18:28:56 06/19/2016 by Juri, and last modified on 00:05:34 06/23/2016.