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Fanon Story:P=
Fanon Story:P=
Chapter 1 - The Airlift (Beta Draft)
Prologue Part 2 - Desperation
<br>
<br>
The buzzing of the engines was a calm one, if slightly annoying, but the remainder of the atmosphere was greatly the opposite. This drop was key, if the timing was just slightly off, then the efforts would reveal the truth, one that needed to stay hidden for future endeavors. They weren't far out, but they still hadn't gotten the 'OK' from the rest of the team. A voice called out from the cargo-hold, echoing the sound emitting from the pilot's headset. "They had better hurry up."
"If only Dad was here to see this!" a voice shot out in a heavy British tone, the exhilaration burning brightly along with the happy screams that echoed in the crowds. A man, he was, ebony hair and pale skin, running about within the thousands that dashed forward. The sky was empty as it could possibly be, or it was clouded beyond belief, it mattered little, not to the swarms of people. They hadn't even cared whether it was dawn or dusk, they probably didn't even know.
<br>"They will, don't worry," replied the pilot through his microphone, words dropping dryly through his trembling lips, not truly sure himself.
<br>
<br>The monitor before him flashed green, countless zeros and ones flying about across the communicator. It was binary, something still relatively uncommon, but the pilot knew what it said. 'Time is now Hawk.' With a deep breath, he flicked a few switches, and pressed one of the hundreds of buttons before him. A flickering crackle waved throughout the plane, muffling his British accent, but still allowing the team to hear the order through the intercom. "10 minutes, aim the barrel,' the speaker sounded.
They were running for the gates, pushing and shoving to reach the walls...the boundaries. Most of them were unsure if they should go on beyond the layers of graffiti and barbed wire, most of them were waiting. The others opposite the wall weren't though, they knew exactly what they were doing. Jumping, climbing, pulling, pushing, falling, screaming, hugs...it was all so hard to track. Thousands of them all passing over the walls and jumping into those who were foreign to them, everyone happy and cheerful. They were stepping into freedom, all of them.
<br>Immediately, the men situated in the cargo-hold went to work, pushing the crates around to their designated points, fixing the harnesses of the supplies' parachutes. Hawk, the pilot, altered the course slightly, heading for the city. After the nine minute wait, he rose his hand up for the serviceman to see, the fist signaling that it was time. Glancing down below, he watched as his plane flew over the wall, heading closer to the grayed zone of the city while he controlled the flight. Red light...Yellow light...Green. The latches holding the back of the plane up pulled out, lowering the ramp down quickly while the men in the back pulled back the ropes on the crates and watched as the parachutes tore them out through the opening. When the responding 'air-fist' was given back moments later, Hawk clicked the button once more to make the ramp close back, and he carefully turned the plane out of West Berlin over the Brandenburg Gate.
<br>
<br>As the plane exited the boundaries of the city, Hawk gave the thumbs up to allow his team to speak again, just as another layer of binary etched over the dashboard. 'Good now Main' the binary translated, the landing point established. They were to land in Frankfurt, the city atop the Main river, disguised as one of the American cargo planes landing in the airbase during the night. Using the muffled speakers once more, Hawk ordered his men to change into the Allied uniforms.
The man, darkened hair, was still visible to a watchful eye, jumping around in his youth, helping people off from the wall's top, hugging them, happy. The man gave his grey jacket to one of the younger jumpers, keeping the boy warm before the kid ran to join his family that quickly followed.
<br>Near to the runway, the Airspace Navigator organized their descent to the base, after Hawk provided the pass-code that had been sent to him through the dashboard. At the land-site, one of the commanders began asking about questions concerning what was brought to the area, and where they originated.
<br>
<br>"Shipment from East Berlin, mostly food and clothing, one or two with some classified cargo," Hawk said.
Announcements sounding from the checkpoints were completely disregarded, unheard in full with the consideration of the people. It was as if they hadn't experienced happiness before, like they were formerly depressed. Some of them probably were, but none now. All were cheering, clapping, laughing, whistling, most of them were even helping out the others that had yet to join them. This was their miracle.
<br>"Who are you, pilot?" the captain interrogated.
<br>
<br>Using his American alias and fake accent, he responded carefully, most of the information whispered to him through his un-noticed earpiece. "First Lieutenant Jonathon Stone, anything else is classified," Hawk said firmly to the man. "Who are you?"
Eventually, the man came from the swarms, escaping their grasp as they paraded the new foundations. The white of his teeth shined in the shadows, the shine of his azure eyes assuring peace.
<br>"Captain Rikkin's my name, Lieutenant Stone, be sure to remember it when you are getting a talk with whoever you work for concerning your attitude to higher-ranking officers," Rikkin said.
<br>
<br>"Of course," Hawk said calmly. "As for asking questions about my crew, they have classified records as well, they will help you unload and prepare the plane for the flight back, but they won't do anything else." Hawk then walked past the captain, a grin on his face as the voice in his earpiece provided the known data on Charles Rikkin. By the time Hawk arrived at the vehicle rental building, he had all the information he needed to use Rikkin's name for the car. Choosing one, he left the airbase and made his way to a relatively distant farm, and sat on a bench in the shade of a tree.
"Daniel! Come on over here!" ordered the voice of a woman, her accent more German, her voice more melodic than the others. The man, Daniel, dashed over immediately, smile still etched across his face. Other men were coming around as well, clapping him on the shoulder with their beers in hand.
<br>"The journalists are already submitting their stories, you did good Jacob. Listen to this: 'Amerikanischen Versorgung West-Berlins'," a figure said as it escaped the shadows, taking the empty space beside Hawk as he addressed him with his real name. "Good timing too, Morrow, I know that Echo didn't get your 'OK' in fast. It's a surprise you weren't shot down by the Soviets."
<br>
<br>"It's alright, the governments will probably be doing the work now, it'll give us a break to monitor our enemies or something..." Jacob said, words falling almost desperately.
"Daniel Morrow," one of the men drew out dramatically with his slight slur, cheerful attitude bursting from his drunken appearance. "Ne'er thought you'd finish your ol' man's work!"
<br>"Cheer up, Jacob, this is a real accomplishment, considering you're only 18. Most of us don't do this major of work in the teams at an age like that," the man waited a bit, before picking back up in German. "Ich denke, es verdient eine Pause für Sie besonders. Vielleicht können Sie unseren Datenbanken, dass Mädchen, das du gejagt habe finden. Der Rest ist bis zu Ihrem Vorgesetzten, Jacob."
<br>
<br>"Ich könnte genau das zu tun," Jacob responded. "Ich könnte genau das zu tun..."
The other men burst out in laughter, patting Daniel's shoulder a couple times in approval. "He'd be a proud feller, mate, truly would," another of the men called out, giving him a nod. "Look at all these PEOPLE! BERLIN IS FREE!"
<br>
Again, the small crowd burst out into cheerful gasps of air, spreading out their arms to grab hold of each other. Daniel, taking a glance at the woman, gave her a plea-filled glare, lip pouting and eyes widening. "Yeah, yeah, go ahead!" the woman said as she chuckled and wove her hand at him. "I'll be taken care of Isaac, so don't you dare be late."
<br>
Daniel brushed back his blackened locks so he could see better, allowing a faint nod before he hugged the woman tight. "I'll try my best!" he called out as he began walking to the bar with his friends, smiling back and waving before going through the doors.
<br>
The screen fell black, then, all fuzzed bits of the old video's quality dying off in the television's glass. A boy, laying back against the wall, quickly turned it off, a tear sliding down his paled cheek. A speaker on the stool beside him released a muffled crackle, beeping a few times to catch his attention. Wiping the tear from his face, he walked toward it to hear it better.
<br>
"Isaac, practice in the Computer room." a monotonous voice called out, ordering the child to get dressed up for his training. Quickly he tugged a sweater over his head and slid on some shoes after buttoning his pants. Pulling the hood up, he covered his shadowy hair and went to the Television set. Pulling the tape from the player, he admired his father's writing from the years ago, reading over the title, 'Berlin Wall'. Isaac wiped another tear from his face before putting the tape down with the others in his 'Memory' closet, where he kept the tapes of his dad.
<br>
When he finally made it to the secured doorway, he put in his voice recognition for his name and security question. "Isaac Morrow. Daniel died January 13, 1991, before I turned three," his soft young voice sounded, the green light flashing to allow his entry.
<br>
Sitting down at his designated computer console, he opened the programs to learn he was writing a paper today, about himself. Isaac determined that it was one of the psychiatric tests to see if he was still 'OK' for his training. Sometimes the superiors were simply too obvious with lessons, and Isaac could pick up on that quickly. Opening up a document, he typed up the date, October 8, 1995, and began writing about himself. He spoke of his birth in 1988, his father's death attempting to convince the Soviets to stay out of Lithuania, and all the effects it was having on him. When he finished, he saved it to the console and left for his room, putting the movie clip in once more, replaying his father's cheerful face on the screen.
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Fanon Char 1=
Fanon Char 1=

Revision as of 05:15, 20 November 2012

  • I'm getting to it.

Prologue Part 2 - Desperation
"If only Dad was here to see this!" a voice shot out in a heavy British tone, the exhilaration burning brightly along with the happy screams that echoed in the crowds. A man, he was, ebony hair and pale skin, running about within the thousands that dashed forward. The sky was empty as it could possibly be, or it was clouded beyond belief, it mattered little, not to the swarms of people. They hadn't even cared whether it was dawn or dusk, they probably didn't even know.
They were running for the gates, pushing and shoving to reach the walls...the boundaries. Most of them were unsure if they should go on beyond the layers of graffiti and barbed wire, most of them were waiting. The others opposite the wall weren't though, they knew exactly what they were doing. Jumping, climbing, pulling, pushing, falling, screaming, hugs...it was all so hard to track. Thousands of them all passing over the walls and jumping into those who were foreign to them, everyone happy and cheerful. They were stepping into freedom, all of them.
The man, darkened hair, was still visible to a watchful eye, jumping around in his youth, helping people off from the wall's top, hugging them, happy. The man gave his grey jacket to one of the younger jumpers, keeping the boy warm before the kid ran to join his family that quickly followed.
Announcements sounding from the checkpoints were completely disregarded, unheard in full with the consideration of the people. It was as if they hadn't experienced happiness before, like they were formerly depressed. Some of them probably were, but none now. All were cheering, clapping, laughing, whistling, most of them were even helping out the others that had yet to join them. This was their miracle.
Eventually, the man came from the swarms, escaping their grasp as they paraded the new foundations. The white of his teeth shined in the shadows, the shine of his azure eyes assuring peace.
"Daniel! Come on over here!" ordered the voice of a woman, her accent more German, her voice more melodic than the others. The man, Daniel, dashed over immediately, smile still etched across his face. Other men were coming around as well, clapping him on the shoulder with their beers in hand.
"Daniel Morrow," one of the men drew out dramatically with his slight slur, cheerful attitude bursting from his drunken appearance. "Ne'er thought you'd finish your ol' man's work!"
The other men burst out in laughter, patting Daniel's shoulder a couple times in approval. "He'd be a proud feller, mate, truly would," another of the men called out, giving him a nod. "Look at all these PEOPLE! BERLIN IS FREE!"
Again, the small crowd burst out into cheerful gasps of air, spreading out their arms to grab hold of each other. Daniel, taking a glance at the woman, gave her a plea-filled glare, lip pouting and eyes widening. "Yeah, yeah, go ahead!" the woman said as she chuckled and wove her hand at him. "I'll be taken care of Isaac, so don't you dare be late."
Daniel brushed back his blackened locks so he could see better, allowing a faint nod before he hugged the woman tight. "I'll try my best!" he called out as he began walking to the bar with his friends, smiling back and waving before going through the doors.
The screen fell black, then, all fuzzed bits of the old video's quality dying off in the television's glass. A boy, laying back against the wall, quickly turned it off, a tear sliding down his paled cheek. A speaker on the stool beside him released a muffled crackle, beeping a few times to catch his attention. Wiping the tear from his face, he walked toward it to hear it better.
"Isaac, practice in the Computer room." a monotonous voice called out, ordering the child to get dressed up for his training. Quickly he tugged a sweater over his head and slid on some shoes after buttoning his pants. Pulling the hood up, he covered his shadowy hair and went to the Television set. Pulling the tape from the player, he admired his father's writing from the years ago, reading over the title, 'Berlin Wall'. Isaac wiped another tear from his face before putting the tape down with the others in his 'Memory' closet, where he kept the tapes of his dad.
When he finally made it to the secured doorway, he put in his voice recognition for his name and security question. "Isaac Morrow. Daniel died January 13, 1991, before I turned three," his soft young voice sounded, the green light flashing to allow his entry.
Sitting down at his designated computer console, he opened the programs to learn he was writing a paper today, about himself. Isaac determined that it was one of the psychiatric tests to see if he was still 'OK' for his training. Sometimes the superiors were simply too obvious with lessons, and Isaac could pick up on that quickly. Opening up a document, he typed up the date, October 8, 1995, and began writing about himself. He spoke of his birth in 1988, his father's death attempting to convince the Soviets to stay out of Lithuania, and all the effects it was having on him. When he finished, he saved it to the console and left for his room, putting the movie clip in once more, replaying his father's cheerful face on the screen.

  • Erudito field agent
  • Name is Isaac Morrow
    • Code Name is Crow

I will work on this tomorrow or something.

  • Assassins
  • Starting a few days before the end of AC3
  • Ancestor in World War 1, multiple POE contacts

  • I am getting to it.

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