| Author: Sunday
disclaimers: don't own them, getting no money from them, please don't sue!!
But don't take either.
Notes: Well, I came back from the land of the retired to write something
new. I hope all of ya enjoy it. The last part was rather bad, so hopefully
this one makes up for it. It took a while, and does not feature any Duo...
sorry... but other characters are rather important too. Lots of Duo in the
next part. Maybe too much. Lemon in the part after this, or the one right
after. It has been one year since what happened in the last part. Once more,
orange juice remains missing... odd...
For: Liz, thank you so much for the amazing fanart!! WOW! (go check it out
on my site... pretty pretty pretty), Ais, who keeps writing to me, even
though I am so horrible at replying. BTW, for people that check my page,
this is the same part 6...nothing new... BTW... go look at my page? Onegai?
So that the hit counter doesn't look so sad?
Bullets and Barrels + Part 6
When he opened his eyes, it
was dark. The alarm continued to blare. He let it.
Five more seconds, he rested, before reaching over and turning off the
offending sound. It was routine, as routine as the feel of the cold plastic
against his fingertips. He was unsurprised by the stubbornness with which
mediocrity clung to him. The monotonous schedule of almost a year was
so firmly ingrained in his mind that...
The door slid open, a tall figure standing in the doorway. The man's eyes
seemed to glow in the lights of the base hallways.
Still in bed Heero?
"Still in bed Heero?"
"Aa. I will be right out, Trowa."
We, the five colonies, are making the following demands: We demand
that we be given status, and treatment equal to that of earth's inhabitants.
We demand that all Oz and Romafeller personnel leave the colonies to international
space. We demand our independence from Oz, Earth, and Romafeller. Should
these demands not be met, we will remove troops by force, take back space,
by force, and prove ourselves powerful opponents, by force. These are
not idle threats, we, the five colonies of L1, L2, L3, L4, and L5, are
prepared to act within four days, which is the time you have been allotted
to remove your troops.
Heero swallowed, Hard. His mouth dry, as he stumbled out of bed. He felt
ill. Beside him Mary-something or other yelped, as she was thrown from
beneath the covers. He ignored her subsequent shriek of fury, even as
he grabbed the bed sheets, and stumbled to the bathroom. What the hell
was he thinking?
Heero shuddered, his body covered in a thin sheet of sweat that had nothing
to do with the previous evening's sex. He shuddered at the memory, he
didn't even like women.
The door to the bathroom slammed shut, even as his bare back hit the cold
meal. His breath thick and ragged, and his sight wavering.
Somewhere in the back of his mind the constant beat of Duo's aura reverberated,
beat a counterpoint to his own heart, increased his headache exponentially.
She was supposed to be a class One, not a Zero, not a powerful Zero. Not
a Zero who could drop a memory bomb, and most definitely NOT a mind-tech.
He gasped sharply, as the beating at the back of his head increased in
volume. It was unbearable, the darkness in the bathroom was too bright,
and the muffled shouts of the Sorceress in his bed, were too loud. His
breath grew shallower, more desperate.
He groped in the darkness for a light switch, the claustrophobic feeling
of walls closing in on him increasing. He could feel Him in the room.
The light was blinding, stark and white. But it was safe.
Slowly he pushed away from the cold metal of the door, and shuffled to
the sink. He braced his hand on either side of the metal basin, as he
stared at his reflection in the glass. His skin pale, from the lack of
sun, and his eyes wide.
He was in shock.
The sweat cooling on his skin, causing him to shiver in the freezing bathroom.
He licked his lips, before turning on the water in the sink, and washing
his face in the cool liquid. Calmer, he reached for a towel, before looking
in the mirror once more.
His breath caught.
Her whisper was silent in the room, and yet roared against his ears. The
towel fell to the floor, even as his hands gripped the sink. His breath
grew more frantic, his shoulders shaking with the effort to breath. He
felt like he was going to throw up.
'Heero... how dare you?'
Images from the mind-bomb flashed through his mind. He was going to be
ill. Duo was falling apart, he could see him. He could see images he had
not been in person to experience, and they hurt. He could see His shell-protocol,
and could see it unweaving faster then Dorothy could repair it. Shinigami
was overextending himself. They were not his memories, the pain and anguish,
the frustration, were not his emotions. They belonged to the blond Sorceress.
'Don't you care?'
The young Wild he had rescued had been trained, had been hunted down,
had been killed.
Relena's anger was overwhelming. A pained whine filled the air, and he
was horrified to identify it as his own. He was ill, he could feel his
stomach lurching, even as his knees began to give.
"Stop it... " his voice sounded defeated, grating against the
cold air. "STOP IT!"
The attack ceased. He stared in shock at the blood that covered his hands,
that dripped to the floor, from his face. Slowly, he stood to face the
mirror once more. Running his fingers against the blood that spilled from
his mouth. The coppery taste re-awakening his gag- reflex. His stomach
lurched once more, even as he washed his mouth out with water.
'Heero. I am no stranger to your thoughts. But even I was repulsed by
"I was never on your side."
'So you seem to delude yourself into thinking.'
His clarity came back. The lack of her overwhelming presence lifting like
some sort of curtain. Heero shuddered at the power of it. He briefly wondered
if he could do something similar, and how depleted it would leave him.
How depleted it must have left her. How desperate she must have been to
try something as risky.
He could easily trace her back now. Trace her location. He wondered if
that was intentional, if she wanted to see him follow her.
He sighed, opening the bathroom door, and letting the woman in. She glared
at him. "What the hell is wrong with you?"
It looked like fire works.
The night was warm, and a cool breeze whipped playfully against our clothes.
It was a beautiful night, not a cloud in the sky. We could see part of
the moon, the crescent shining brightly in the flawless onyx of the velvety
night sky. And upon that deep blue material, not yet swallowed by the
pinpricks of light, were the colonies. They have always been visible to
the naked eye, the large metal ovals gleaming in space, passing in front
of the moon.
They were beautiful.
Even as they began the attack.
Heero stalked down the hallways, varying ranks of sorceresses and sorcerers
parting before him. He clenched his fist, as he swept into the ship's
"Barton, Why the fuck, is all hell breaking loose?"
Trowa frowned, his lips pressing downward, as he turned away from the
enraged sorcerer. He had more important things to do then deal with a
petulant child. In his eyes, Yuy was just that, a child. His ingenuity,
his skill, precision, and sheer brute power, brought him to the top ranks
of the black ops, but he remained a child. Remained an innocent to the
politics that never touched him. Even in the beginning he had been at
the top, surprised at the lack of discipline in his position, until he
realized that at his level, there were few who would tell him what to
Trowa sighed. He turned on the nearest link to the net. The image of a
woman flashing once, twice, as the machine warmed up, and then breaking
into startling clarity. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, starting at
her pale face, her full lips, and sharp eyes.
"You realize who this is, of course?"
Heero nodded, stepping towards the projector, as in a trace. He licked
his lips, before turning to Trowa, watching the other man warily.
"Aa. She is supposed to be dead." Trowa carefully looked back
to the picture of the woman, her face serene on the screen, but her eyes
betrayed her anger, her irritation. Her eyes always had, Trowa mused.
He glanced up at Heero, he seemed rooted to the spot. "Was she on
Heero scowled in response "I thought that the interrogation revealed
everything, the only crew that I met on the ship were Shinigami, and that
was only to drag me out of there, and Chang. I met no one else."
"No, that is not necessarily correct. It is not so much that there
was nothing else, rather Une saw nothing else, which is spectacular, considering
that she should have been able to tell me what you ATE that morning."
"I had nothing that morning, I was too sick after they tried to poison
me. Believe me, there is no love lost between us."
Trowa's frown deepened. He turned off the mute on the projector, and watched
as Heero nearly jumped at the sound of her voice. 'familiar'. The thought
hung in the air, and He was satisfied to find that it had not been his
"... demand our independence from Oz, Earth, and Romafeller. Should
these demands not be met, we will remove troops by force, take back space,
by force, and prove ourselves powerful opponents, by force. These are
not idle threats, we, the five colonies of L1, L2, L3, L4, and L5, a...
" her voice rose, passionate. Her blond hair brushing past her shoulders,
and her flawless skin, broken by a single scar. It ran down her left cheek,
deep and red. It looked new, although Trowa knew it to be far older, as
old as his own. Although his were internal, layers and layers of mental
and emotional damage. He licked his lips, and watched as she brought her
fist onto the podium.
Watched as she challenged two of the most powerful military forces on
"Heero, I have watched you for a year now. Watched you hide in your
work. I am quiet, not stupid. You know her." Trowa frowned at the
cold look that Heero cast his way, stepped back at the smirk that pulled
upon the Asian man's features.
"At least, I am not the one who had killed her. It is odd, Barton,
that you were not the one who bothered to look for her in the burnt out
shell of the HeavyArms, that instead, it was Shinigami who saved her life.
I too, am not an idiot, and I have as high a clearance as you. I saw your
record. You failed as a captain and a human, and now you hide in the tunnels
of the black ops, suitable. A dark cave for a rat."
"Big words for a man who was too cowardly to accept his own emotions,
and chose instead to run. I may be a rat, Yuy, but you are a coward."
"So you suggest that I drop all that I believe in, that I have been
trained in, and follow some insubstantial, baseless assumptions. Emotions?
To do what, Barton? Run? As I recall, it is you who specializes in such
Trowa snorted in amusement, and approached the man before him. At so close
a range, Yuy had to look up at him, and yet, even at so inferior a height,
it appeared that the shorter man was looking down his nose at him.
"For all your threats, Yuy, you didn't seem to read all of the files.
I don't need Une. She is merely a One. Her clearance places her in the
zeros... but in actuality she is useless compared to one of us."
Barton's voice was low, cold, in the room. His pale fingers grasped at
Heero's collar, dragged the man towards him. His green eyes stared down
"Protocol delta-seven, mind-tec. Access protocol, level: zero."
He smirked, releasing the other man.
"I should have guessed as much." He turned his back to him,
as he placed his fingers against the doorknob, ready to leave the room.
Only to find it locked. His breath caught in his throat, as he turned
to watch Yuy. Yuy, who wore a smirk that no man who had his mind invaded
should have had the capacity to wear.
The I-field in the room did not stir.
Trowa's hearing strained for the sound of protocol, but he could hear
nothing but Relena's strong voice. Her words raising and falling in the
stuffy air of the room, losing their meaning to their rhythm. But there
were no protocol. Which would suggest someone else had locked the room.
Or Yuy did not need them. Which was ridiculous, because Barton had the
ability to sense that, he was sure of it. He had not been informed. Or
perhaps he had been, and had been too stupid to notice. After all, Heero
Yuy had left Duo's ship alone, with no one to stop him. Not even the crew
that hated him. He had been blind, and now his mission was jeopardized.
And the room was locked.
"Nine beta." He whispered into the stuffy air. Trying to ignore
the way in which Heero's eyes seemed to take on an unholy light, the way
in which the smirk grew as the other man recognized the code.
Military and police code for a bezerker. A Wild or a Perfect.
At first they glowed just
a bit brighter, as if the sun was hitting them particularly strongly.
Then the first spark flew, far and wide, an ark that cut through the starkness.
It seemed to fade, before, at its point of landing, blossoming in an explosion
of white. The children in the field squealed in delight. Watching the
lights so high up in space.
As for us. We prayed. My son was on ship 0012 gamma 4, the Celeste. They
had been on L2.
Another ark burst from the colony, L2, closest to the earth. It seemed
to glow for a moment more, almost blinding, as more and more light cut
from it, streamers upon streams of light seemed to cut though the darkness,
hitting their targets. Leaving behind blossoms of light which faded to
nothing in the cool of space, which left the afterimage of the explosions
burned into the back of our eyelids. Oz had not backed down. Had not withdrawn.
Romafeller had also moved forward. Had answered the challenge.
Above us, the colonies seemed to loose their brightness. Children laughed,
and pointed to a multitude of falling stars. Their light streaking closer
to home, closer to earth than the powerful blasts of the sorcerers. They
seemed to build a silk screen of brilliance between us and the violence,
between the darkened field, and dark space.
The children whispered, giggled, and wished upon the falling debris of
their past empires.
"So you are the traitor." Trowa did not allow himself to shake,
to move, to sweat, to fear. He kept his face blank, and turned slowly
to face that man before him. He would not be afraid, as powerful an emotion
would resonate in the air, would be detected by even this whelp.
This child, who was about to destroy everything that Trowa had slaved
over years to achieve. The revenge for his defeat imminent, and here this
child was leaking information. Traitor. One who, possibly, knew far too
"I am not a traitor."
"Don't lie, it was hard to spot, impressive, something that I should
expect from you, after all, a tec, is a fairly powerful Zero. However,
I am not an idiot, and am not easily taken in by your treachery."
"Spit it out."
"The systems, you contact the Romafeller."
Heero seemed to pale, as his lips turned into a frown. Disbelief seemed
to wash past Trowa, before amazement.
"Bull shit. How the hell did anyone get past the defenses? I am the
one who built up the outer security on base. The data-security hull is
impermeable, I have no idea what it is made up of, let alone how to avoid
it. The inner securities are beyond even me. They hold the combined energies
of over three thousand sorceresses, some alive, some long gone, I cannot
follow something as twisted." Truth. Heero's anger seemed to fade,
a type of defiance and disbelief remaining. Radiating from his flushed
body. Annoyed at his presumption, and the possibility that he had angered
a potentially powerful ally, Barton Continued.
"There are breaches, it is why I called you here, I believed you
responsible, I see that I am in error."
Heero snorted. "Forgiven, Barton. I will take a look at what you
think is a breach. However. What you saw in my mind is for your information
alone. If I find that you have betrayed me in this... "
Heero stared at the information
before him. How he hadn't noticed it before, he did not know. Whole data
structures were moved, entire networks rewired, and for four brief seconds,
an entire monitoring station picked up false data.
It repeated, four seconds in time, over and over in front of him, behind
his closed eyes, displayed upon billions of screens within his mind. Four
seconds in time, once every month, at a consecutive prime numbered date,
data was played in repeat. For four seconds the whole of the black ops
could not trace sorcerer activity, aura fluctuations, I-fields, and most
importantly, nano-technology. Because it could only be nanos that could
create the intricately weaved web of deception in the systems of the most
thorough and diligent operations within the whole of the Oz empire. It
was a shell, a web, millions of pieces of data blending flawlessly, all
in the weave typical of a sorcerer's protocol-shell.
Heero's breath caught in his throat. As he once more re-evaluated the
handiwork. Like all auras, like I-fields, and the nano- technology, its
handler had left a signature, one that had set him off. One that caused
an imperfect resonance within Heero's aura, whenever he scanned the networks.
One that pulsed exactly four times as quickly as his own. It resonated
at a half beat to Duo's constant beat, which was a half beat to Heero's
He had indeed found another near-identical aura, but the subtle resonance
suggested more engineering, more tinkering, it suggested signatures. Small
differences that caused perfect beats, and half beats.
1, 2, 4.
As his power picked up on the feel of the web, Trowa's aura responded,
resonating three times to his. In the small room, staring in mixed wonder
and horror at the mystery laid out before them it resonated at exactly
3ž4 the speed of the Engineer's aura. At 11ž2 Maxwell's beat.
"An Engineer is leaking data. I can't trace to where, or who. I know
generally how, but I cannot give you specifics."
"An engineer will understand the handiwork of another engineer, we
talk to Winner, he may have an idea."
It took almost three days to get into space, and four to gain clearance
to access Wing. The mammoth ship stood out, a brilliant white, against
the onyx of space. Its main isolation tube was being cleaned, so the whole
of the structure was unfurled, like an enormous flower, entire sections
of the ship open, vulnerable, as the I-field ran up and down the channels
that led to the center of the ship. In the center, the main isolation
tube was open, the blue-lit channel facing space.
A 10km satellite dish.
Heero pressed lightly against the glass.
He felt empty.
The sardonic laughter of a woman still ringing in his ears. Relena and
Dorothy, it had been them on the Deathscythe, who had led him through
the twisted corridors of the mammoth ship. An engineer and a powerful
mind tec. The more he thought of them, the worse the growing ball of anger,
and self-flagellation grew within the pit of his stomach. Maxwell was
with them. Maxwell, who was powerful and alluring. Who evoked overwhelming
lust within his body, who strained against his beliefs. Who held an aura
which matched that of three other powerful men. Three of the most powerful
men known to man- kind. Himself, Barton, and the engineer.
His teeth clenched beneath scowling lips.
The puzzle would not resolve itself.
1. the quality of being resonant.
2. physics: the reinforcement or prolongation of sound by reflection or
1. (of sound) deep, clear, and continuing to sound or ring.
2. (of a room, musical instrument, or hollow body) tending to reinforce
or prolong sounds.
3 (resonant with) filled or resounding with.
4 suggesting images, memories, or emotions.
1. to be resonant
2 (of an idea or action) meet with someone's agreement.
Wing was straining beneath the tests. Quatre stood on the deck, nearly
snarling out orders, as sparks flew through the main bridge. It would
seem that Wing was in disrepair.
"What happened to her?"
Quatre whirled around, the scowl fading from his features, his face relaxing.
"Heero... it is good to see you. As for Wing, she was a bit beaten
up in a fight. Romafeller took a chunk out of her."
"I'm sorry to hear it, she is a fine ship. I never heard reports
of the attack."
"Yah, well. Oz doesn't broadcast its stupidities; anyway, the main
generator is down, as is the main isolation tube. I am not going to risk
meltdown because one of the bloody sectors does not feel the need to be
operational. Damned, junk bucket. We are moving it anyway, away from L2."
"Away? The orders were to attack."
"There are new ones. The damned bureaucracy is making me sick, the
orders are always changing. These are about three minutes old."
Heero snorted in response, watching as Winner wiped the sweat sticking
to his forehead, with the back of his arm, bellowed out a few additional
commands, and began walking off the bridge, his stride and manner indicating
that he was expecting Heero to follow. Heero did not disappoint.
Winding through the corridors they finally found their way into the Engineer's
quarters. They were surprisingly Spartan. Unlike his majestic homes on
L4, the Captain's chamber contained the bare essentials.
"What brings you here?"
Heero smirked, watching the young captain collapse onto the bed, and fall
back against the covers. He made a face of distaste, before attempting
to shrug off his jacket without leaving the comfort offered by his the
"An engineer has broken through the communication shielding put up
by the black ops."
Quatre ceased his movements, and sat up in the bed, indicating for Heero
to sit at the edge of the bed. "You are kidding me. That is impossible.
Trowa and I must have gone over the bloody thing fifty trillion times,
and it is impossible to get through. I know, Trowa and I tried. We do
maintenance on it once in a while."
"I hoped you might offer some advice on how an Engineer could do
such a thing."
"No idea." Quatre scowled, and flopped back on the bed. The
ship shook one more, before giving a low-pitched moan. The lights in the
"Well fuck." Exclaimed the blond, already throwing on the jacket.
"I am on a ship of incompetents. Damn them, damn this, I swear, I
am going to throw them into the sun for the trouble they are causing me.
I have to go."
"Quatre, I think this is more important then Wing. Someone has an
insider, a powerful one. Possibly as powerful as you... " Heero paused,
and watched the young captain, as he ground his teeth together.
"Captain." Trowa stepped from the shadows of the room. "Perhaps,
you can explain your feeling of guilt."
Quatre let out a shuddering breath, and gave a weak smile. "Baiting
me for a mind-tec? Heero, I never thought you had it in you. I am just
tiered, and feel bad that I can't help. If you don't believe me, get Trowa
to come here and scan me." He snorted in amusement, as he reached
out an offering hand in Trowa's direction, his posture and smile indicating
his confidence in the offer being ignored. It was not.
Trowa stepped easily towards the young Engineer. Quatre licked his lips.
"Stay there, Barton."
"That is a command not a request."
Trowa's face grew grim. Heero raised a brow. The Engineer was nervous.
"Captain, step down. I am evoking my station as your superior. Winner,
your rank is now withdrawn."
"And what rank would you be... Barton?"
"Major General Barton, Captain Winner."
Quatre grit his teeth. Slowly, he moved further from the two sorcerors
in the room, the gathering of the mist of nanos at his feet, indication
his interfacing with the Zero system, before even that was brutally cut
off. He gasped, doubling over at the waist, as if punched.
Heero took a step back, his eyes thin slits in the quiet room. Already
the ship's new coordinates were forcing a slight shift within Wing. The
walls cracked with strain, as the massive warship moved forward at an
increased speed. Away from L2.
"Someone contact the bridge, tell them that they are to change course
"They aren't going to listen to you."
"Winner, I suggest you keep your comments to yourself. This ship
is to move immediately, into the vicinity of L2."
"You have got to be kidding me. Heero, you understand our orders...
we are to follow them." The engineer's eyes flashed, as he once more
attempted to interface with the ship's systems. Something blocked him
once more, and he snarled in rage. His anger beating against Yuy's aura,
pulling against the shell-protocols.
Heero pursed his lips, and watched Barton, as the man stepped towards
Quatre, and placed a gun to his temple. Protocol would have been detected
by the bridge, and would have caused immediate investigation.
"Disobedience is considered treachery, which is punishable with death."
"I am not a traitor." Quatre Hissed. His entire body taught,
ready to spring given an opening. He may have been without power, but
he was far from helpless.
"Aa. Then you must excuse me..." Trowa licked his lips, and
pressed the gun further into the side of Quatre's neck. "... I am."
Heero's eyes narrowed, as he watched the scene before him. "What
are you doing Barton?"
"Stay out of this Yuy." The gun would not have been a threat
against an Engineer, however, for all of their amazing control over technology,
physically they were as feeble as an average human.
"This is not what we agreed to." The Perfect's aura flared in
the room. Trowa's breath caught. No matter how many times he had seen
it happen, it never failed to amaze him.
A tec-perfect. The laps in Quatre's interface was Heero's doing, only
a Sorcerer of that magnitude would have the power to wrench an Engineer
and his interface apart.
He must have been a complete idiot to have previously missed something
of this magnitude, God knows that he did more research on the topic then
anyone in the field. However, you never expect a perfect to come out of
the woodwork. They were extinct; the last of them had died decades back.
A rare subspecies was even less likely. Their powerful bodies burning
out quickly like the fate of the zeros. And yet, Yuy remained. Powerful,
time and time again, whole, and seemingly untouched by the horror of main
protocol. Then again, Yuy did not watch as his ship plummeted, and his
whole crew was slowly destroyed, he had not felt every one of the people
on board die.
Had not been too busy screaming at the pain in his head, to find her.
To save her.
Prominent Perfect subspecies:
*Defense-tec: specialize in defense mechanisms.
*General: much like the name, these tecs are jacks-of-all-trades, they
tend to specialize in nothing, and instead are able to accomplish all
tasks characteristic of perfects, to a lesser extent then the specialists.
*Main-protocol-tec : specialize in the main attack protocol attack.
*Mind-tec: specialize in all aspects of the mind arts. These tecs can
rewire memories, implement thoughts, communicate directly into the mind,
set memory bombs, read memories, and strong emotions. Similar to a Zero.
*Spirit-tec: specialize in the assembling, disassembling, and containing
of shell protocol. These tecs are rare, and are often of the same power
as Engineers, however, they are not engineers.
*Technology-tec: specialize in operating systems, including Zero, software
on computers, programming, and hacking. All of these can be invoked without
direct access to a computer.
*Time-tec: Specialize in Gates. Under all situations, can open, and operate
gates, on both ends. Time tecs are extremely powerful, and very short
lived. Repairs by mind-tecs are a strenuous and frequent process.
Notebook of Trowa Barton
Quatre gritted his teeth as
the gun dug further into his temple. Slowly, he became aware of the protocol
returning, of the nanos waking up to his commands. A small smile spread
over his lips. Even as Barton let out a sharp cry of alarm, as the whole
of his gun was dissolved, as his shell-protocol began unwinding.
Quatre pushed away from him. Sending the taller man sprawling with one
His eyes scanned the room, attempting to locate Yuy, and finding the whole
of the chamber empty.
Traitors, fucking Romafeller.
He turned toward the prone figure on the floor, motionless. Barton was
too busy trying to fix the damage of the nanos to start a counter attack.
Quatre scowled. He did not have the time to start hunting for Yuy. The
other man was on the ship somewhere, and he was going to make sure that
the treacherous bastard didn't leave it alive. Friend or not. No one betrayed
him and lived to tell about it. Of course, he may have been a hypocrite
in saying so.
He sensed the wave of energy long before it had a chance to hit him. The
nanos took it apart efficiently, as he slowly turned to face Barton once
more. With a snarl, he stalked over to him, lifting his limp body from
the floor, and slamming him into a wall. He watched in satisfaction as
his head struck the metal of the hull with a painful bang. And grinned,
when his head lolled to the side, exposing his neck. Exposing the tattoo
with resided light against his fair skin.
He dropped him back to the floor, and kicked him hard in the stomach,
ally or not, he had little patience with people who held guns to his head.
"Wake up, you damned baby."
Name: Jeroff, Kreskarian, Dr.
Weight: 145 pounds
Description: Caucasian Male, white hair, eyes not present, right arm and
leg replaced by prosthetics.
Wounds: Third degree burns: left side. Arm, left, burned off. Leg, left,
burned off. shattered ribs, 2, 3, 4, 5, right side. Pierced lung, left.
Pierced aorta. Shattered Skull, leakage. Broken nose.
Time of Death: July 04, 190
Cause of death: Internal hemorrhage caused by Wild attack (?) protocol
levels: estimated at 10 000 protocol. Actual levels of protocol impacted:
100 protocol. Distance from source, is estimated at 50meters, most of
protocol having been absorbed by shielding.
Shielding had given away at the force of protocol.
See attached police report, for more information.
Black Ops files
Clearance: 3 class.
5] [part 7] [back
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