If you’re new to the Great Game, please have a quick look at the blurb to your left, where you’ll find a short catch-up introduction.
He arched an eyebrow. “No, Taylor. The men on the ground have been a bit busy to be running signal analyses during riots.”
“Well, that might be a place to start.”
“Good chap,” said Travis cheerfully. “Top notch. We’ve got a few disturbances in striking distance.” He called up a list of trouble spots. “Take your pick.”
I fought back a groan, and said “How about that inner city neighbourhood?”
“Splendid”, said Travis. “Jot me down a list of the thingummies you need, and then grab your kit and get over there. I’ll have them sent over to the command post, and let them know you’re coming.”
“My kit?”
Travis sighed. “Body armour, weapons, earplugs, ECM, candles, lighter, and goose fat.”
I stared at him. “Goose fat?”
“Just bloody get on with it.”
He stalked off across the room. I went back down to the dorm they’d put us in, and investigated my pack. Sure enough, in with my glasses, some candy bars, a sheaf of notes and other operational bits and pieces were a tub of rendered goose lard, some ecclesiastical-looking candles, and a brightly-coloured pair of workman’s earplugs. I fished out the tub of lard and studied it. The words ‘Rendered Goose Lard’ had been stencilled onto a label, and that was it.
I shrugged, and dropped the tub back into my bag. After I’d been to the armoury to get suited up and grab some guns, I made my way to my pod. The ECM undersuit was unpleasantly clammy, and I could already feel myself starting to sweat. I squeezed myself into the pod, but once it adjusted the seat to allow for the body armour, it became less uncomfortable.
The Infected riot area was in the south of the city, a low-income district that had been in steady decline since advanced mechanisation blasted the blue-collar sector. There were worse areas, but Milton certainly had its share of problems. It only took half an hour to get down there — the streets were eerily quiet, and I realised that I had hunched up tensely, as if expecting attack. I forced my shoulders to relax, but I couldn’t do anything about the creepiness.
Cities are just not meant to be silent and empty.
Milton looked even crappier than I remembered. The pod took me round to the Eastern command post, which was where the Op Centre had been placed. I climbed out of the damn thing, stretched painfully, and then wandered over towards all the fun. It was quieter than I expected; riots normally sound like a furious, deafening roar. This was more like a big, wild frat-party.
A young security guy wandered over. “Lieutenant Taylor, Sir. I’ve been told to take you to your equipment.”
“Is it easy to find?”
He pointed to a couple of crates twenty yards away, in front of a small, empty tent. “Right there, Sir.”
"Fine," I said.
- "Goose fat? Really?" (38%)
- "I'll go get set up." (24%)
- "Is there somewhere I can get a look at the disturbance?" (24%)
- "Can I talk to the commander?" (14%)
Voting Closes at: May 10, 2010 @ 12:00 pm
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