liamc2

[QUOTE=drakkeness]lol it doesnt have to be nice things..I'll admit myself that australia has a few issues regarding rascism, and not just with the aboriginies either..Probably only australians would remember the tampa incident that happened back in the 90's regarding refugees. John Howard really doesnt like them that much.. That aside I love australia, and I love Vegemite which though it is american owned is still uniquely australian in its own way. Speaking of Vegemite, did anyone hear about it being banned in America because it has folate in it? I read in the paper that in the early stages of it being banned that Australian tourists were being searched at airports to see if they were carrying any Vegimite with them..Off topic I know but how stupid is that?[/QUOTE] [size="1"][FONT=Trebuchet MS]Oh, don't get me started on refugees. I'm all for a due processing of people coming from other countries, and it is logical to have them stay over in a secure environment before encouraging them into a community...but months? Possible years? In the desert? It's insane. I'm not pleased about it. I guess that puts me in the middle of the whole debate, but you get that. Ah yes, the [b]Folate[/b] issue. I don't get that, someone can feel free to explain American culinary laws and why they suddenly apply now, despite Kraft [and various other Northern Hemisphere conglomerates] buying up Australian icons generations ago... Though the concept of someone being tackled to the concrete in an airport for carrying a tube of Vegemite entertains me to no end... [Also, Vegemite is made from concentrated yeast extract. Who knew microorganisms were delicious?] ^_^ [/FONT][/size]

[size="1"][FONT=Trebuchet MS]Racism? Sorry, I've been doing a Human Rights and Ethics class at university and it has been messing with my head. I could splurge a lot of stuff now, but mainly it comes back to an ingrained sense of unknowing racism. Most 'normal' people are not knowingly racist against the Aboriginal population, but that's one stereotype that is reinforced unknowingly continually in the Australian "blokey" culture. For those confused about what I am talking about, I suggest you substitute "Aboriginal" with "white trash" in your internal vocabulary and you'll instantly understand how a small part of White Australia policy [unintentionally I am certain] continually marginalises another race. I'm certain that everyone loves each other and don't mean it at all when they talk about "those abbos" [I apologise], but invariably they justify their position by saying "most of them sniff paint anyway" Le Sigh. Sorry. My father worked out in Roma [6/8 hours west of Brisbane, in the desert pretty much ;p] for Family Youth and Community Care on contract, and it was an incredible eye opener to go out there and just see a pretty much untouched part of Australian Heritage. Stereotypes still exist, though it's darkly hilarious to discover that 90% of the cases of child protection that my Dad had to sort out were white. The Aboriginal community, however, was completely normal. Dad couldn't walk down the street without a million kids rushing up to him yelling out "Uncle." He was offered a position on the NAIDOC committee and was adopted as a tribe member [and his family by association, kinda cool ^_^;]. What was my point? Right. Some people in Australia still haven't learnt that there are bad people throughout the world, mostly due to their social circumstance and so on. I could write a thesis here on the whole affair, citing a lot of what is currently in the news about Aboriginal land rights and the flow on effects of early Imperialism and Colonisation, but you are smart cookies here ^_~ It's caught on a lot more now, but chips handed down from shoulder to shoulder become deeply ingrained in families. There's a lot of ground to be covered, but my generation seems to no longer see the divides between race and gender. Please don't correct me, you know that I'm referring to my experiences at university and my social circle, ;p. Sorry, I was meant to say something nice. The smell. The mixture of our natural flora is just amazing. Bottlebrush, eucalyptus, wattle bush. Even in the early days of spring, you can just smell Christmas coming, it's amazing. It's not so strong in the city, but it is still there. When I came home from the big smoke to the hilly place of Highfields, it was even stronger. So peaceful and relaxing. Oh Ayer's Rock is no more, it's commonly referred to now and accepted as Uluru. [Not meant to be scolding, sorry] And I say G'day all the time. I work in retail and the greeting is the easiest thing in the world to say. No worries and she'll be right are all parts of my vernacular. I've tried to use some rhyming slang, but I never got the hang of it really... "Hey Noah! It's the dog and bone for your china plate!" Stolen generation aside, I do love my country. Bleeding hearts [Do not talk to me about my lectures. There are some serious Art students out there that need to be throttled] will try to make the past a larger wound than it needs to be, rather than accepting that reconciliation is the current need. There has been irreparable cultural damage done, but if yobbos simply accepted Aboriginals as people and ignored the divide, we'd be well on our way. Again, all of the sins of our fathers aside, I wouldn't live anywhere else. No other country in the world holds any appeal in my eyes. [Except maybe Canada. Go the Commonwealth!]. ^_^ [/FONT][/size]

[SIZE=1][FONT=Trebuchet MS]I belong to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and was fortunate to have been in the church my entire life. Both of my grandparents were converted on either side of the family, so I guess that makes me second generation? It's interesting though, I may have been born into the faith, but that didn't make me automatically a devout believer. You cannot rely on your parent's testimony of the truth your entire life, eventually you reach the stage where you stick your neck out and truly ask and ponder where you stand. I have known my entire life that the church is true, for varying reasons. My memory is a little vague [don't ask,possible premature memory loss? Bad for exams, lol], but my baptism at 8 years of age stands out to me as one of the most spiritual moments and highlights of my younger years. I was old enough then to understand for myself what was happening. Naturally over the years that moment waxed and waned in my memory so when I was in my teens I was back to the "this is my life, I believe it is true" stage. I reasserted myself on the ground I stood and went to the various activities and so on that are made for the youth of our Church, and I'm grateful I did. I was forced to come out of my shell and confront my situation. TFY [Time for Youth] was the greatest 3 days of my life. I was able to interact with other kids my age, all on completely variable levels of understanding and belief. Those three days kicked off a culmination of events that lead to me to [i]know[/i] that the Church is true. When I was very little I had my tantrums and my parents still took me to church. That was me being encouraged to go. Eventually Sunday became second nature to me and it became part of my life, understanding the doctrines and so on. It was a pro-active effort in me to seek and understand and pray to get where I am. I love my religion and I love my Father in Heaven and his son, Jesus Christ. I moved out of home a year and a half ago for university. Home and my family is now an hour and a half away,and my faith has never been trialled so much in my life. I have taken it on as the refiners fire and taken on what has been thrown at me, and I have never been so strong before in my life. I am grateful for what my Father in Heaven has done for me, and I will always try to repay his kindness and love. I work hard, I study hard and I do the best I can to improve my life and others. I have callings in my ward and I try to magnify them to the best of my ability. I am not perfect, but I will improve if I remain strong. I will not counter or argue with anyone's comments in this thread. Some things have been said that sadden me, but to respond to them will only inflame the situation. It is obvious that many have their own minds made up about where they stand and what they feel. I have learnt the hard way that you can take a horse to water but you can't make him drink. I understand that people have their own faiths statutes and beliefs and reasons why they do not believe in God, and I respect that. If you are not interested, I will not force my faith upon you. I am human, however, and I must admit it hurts me when people say or suggest my religion is based upon lies and that I have been brainwashed. It doesn't happen often, but it still hurts. That's why I stopped reading these threads in the first place. I will be putting my papers in in just over a year's time, at the end of my degree, to allow myself to be called to serve as a Missionary for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latterday Saints. I will endeavour to serve to the best of my ability, and not one iota less. I still have a lot of money left to save for it, but it will be the best two years of my life, and I will not regret my decision. I apologise now if I offend anyone with my statement of beliefs, that was not my intention, but I outright refuse to apologise for who I am and where I come from. I am Liam Cameron, 19. 2nd year Bachelor of Biomedical Science (QUT). Supanews Employee, Home teacher, Elders Quorum Teacher, and above all, a faithful member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latterday Saints. I will direct those that do have questions to the LDS official site [URL=http://www.lds.org]here[/URL] and to the official site for commonly asked questions [URL=http://www.mormon.org]here[/URL]. Of course you could always PM me, whatever ^_^ [/FONT][/SIZE]

[QUOTE=nomad19]Utopia is the ideal perfect place, socially, morally and politically. I admit it is a fictional island created by Sir Thomas More but the mere thought of a utopian society can end all the negative outlook we have about the world. Think of it, a world without racial discrimination,poverty,war, etc. I wonder, is there still a slight possiblity that we could reach that kind of perfection?[/QUOTE] [SIZE=1] [FONT=Trebuchet MS]I'm going to loosely quote/paraphrase PM Margaret ("Maggie") Thatcher. The only possibility for a utopian society to survive or be created would be through the guidance, and absolute control, of a benevolent dictatorship. One can interpret the means of this in a variety of ways, religiously, politically, whatever. Communism is basically the unloved backwards cousin of Utopia, as was Nazi Germany to a certain extent. Unfortunately, such positions of power can easily be abused by the opportunistic, as we can see from both those cases I outlined. Power corrupts otherwise unflawed individuals. Democracy isn't much better now, but it means that there are an awful lot more of people and safety mechanisms to prevent such an abuse of power. And yes. I'll save people the effort and simply say "OMG! GeoRge! BUSH!" ;p[/FONT][/SIZE]

[QUOTE=James][font=franklin gothic medium] And where's Liam? I'm wanting to see what he thinks of this idea! I'm going to have to get a loudspeaker and call all oldies. ~_^[/font][/QUOTE] [FONT=Trebuchet MS][SIZE=1]Delicious! I would never have had known if it weren't for Sara mentioning it in her blog. I just had my midsemester exams yesterday so I've been out of the loop for a while now. This new goodness that you've forged in the fiery furnace of fantastic fiction fills me with happy thoughts! I'm actually buzzing through various character ideas in my head right now. The whole nameless past/altered memories/coma thing has got my character cortex clicking over. I'll definitely be dropping you a line once the sign ups are up. I'll have to ask of you what the plotparameters are, I want to keep my imagination inside a safe, workable, box here.. I'm certain that, once you put a link up in your blog, that every oldie around will come sniffing around. Nothing like vintage roleplay to get the nostalgia pumping through the veins ^_^ *holds breath with anticipation*[/size][/font]

[FONT=Trebuchet MS][SIZE=1]*quietly places 1/2 of a Bachelor of Biomedical Science on the table* I've always been a lover of the world of fantasy. The concept of a world of magic has always been entertaining to me, but I'm not going to be the first to say "dragons are real because through evolution it may be possible" [However, I would be quite happy to say, "I'm running to the store and picking up the latest Discworld/Harry Potter, or I'm playing Oblivion until my eyes bleed"] I'd say dragons exist through a sense of folkloric taxonomy. I mean, it's the study of what things may have looked like, or an exaggeration of a possibly incorrect interpretation. It's in human nature to say to something, "bones of a giant lizard? That's pretty stupid...but how grand would it be for it to breathe hell fire and brimstone?" Sure, magic and dragons could exist, but I'm going to say that all of this is more likely to be an evolution of ideas or tall tales from long ago, that has now sponsored a wonderful growth of fantasy fiction and culture in our age. Once evidence has been gathered, and I mean real evidence*, then I'll be more likely to accept and know that the truth has been out there all along, just well hidden. I'm not about to rule anything out entirely, simply because I know how often everything in the [i]amazing world of science[/i] changes and improves. I swear, every semester I start with the lecturer saying, "this is actually a newly discovered theory/ biochemical test/cellular process that explains all those unanswered questions we've always had," and I'm not even in medicine yet. [*I'm talking along the lines of less than 97% identical to any other genetic sequence here] *tags [b]Drix[/b], the OB's [b]Official Scientist[/b][/font][/size]

[QUOTE=Sara][color=#b0000b][size=1] Anyway, looking the other direction, I should say what I like about guys. I tend to find tall, skinny boys attractive. And I tend to be attracted more to geeky features than, say, "chiseled good looks." [/color][/size][/QUOTE] [FONT=Trebuchet MS][SIZE=1]Would it be improper of I to say, rather saucily, "I'm in!" ? I find that I find myself attracted to various different features of the opposite sex. There isn't really one specific feature that I can attribute as my main source of attaction. There's more of a blanket of features, really. Modest dress, self esteem and humility are always mental ticks in the back of my head. Also, I'd be lying if I didn't say that I found a good wit to be a key attribute at the disposal of a charming young lady ^_^ As for myself, I've been told quite a few times that my height is a redeeming quality [quite possibly my only one. I've been used as shade]. I'm 197cm, approximately 6'4" [or in nautical terms, 1.077 fathoms]. I consider myself to be in possession of a sense of humour, which I do enjoy sharing around when possible. After reviewing my thoughts I guess you could infer that opposites do not attract in this case. If and when I find that special someone, they will most likely have features that I've grown and strengthened personally. There's no point hunting after someone if you're not worthy of them yourself.[/font][/size]

[SIZE=1][FONT=Trebuchet MS] OOC: Terribly sorry. I've been working altogether too much. I've been in front of this computer for 4 hours doing various rubbishy things for uni [Exams in two weeks! OH NOES!] and decided I'd at least achieve half of my goal and finish the rest of my PHT post. It hurts my eyes to look away from the bright, bright LCD screen...x.X; I apologise if there are any errors or omissions in this post. I've been rather scatterbrained. ~~ Inside his head, Larce was simultaneously cursing and congratulating himself. It was a personal habit, a vice that had always stuck around since he initially invested in it all those years ago. Pick pocketing had never been a source of income for him, but it just fascinated him how far he could go into someone?s personal space without them ever knowing. Half the fun of emptying someone?s pockets was putting it all back without them ever noticing, ever realising the violation of personal space. In a tense situation he always seemed to kick into the habit as though he were testing his abilities. How far could he go before the body tensed or shivered under the pressure? Was he in control enough to discover what personal items had been carried and kept? He was still in control. Bon Bon had an identification card, a nail file, and bizarrely, an empty bullet shell. The potential for metal on metal scraping was high, but he?d had enough time to ascertain and categorise before his cover disappeared. The whole experience gave him a little boost, an adrenaline rush, to keep him going. He straightened up, satisfied that Bon Bon?s thoughts were so far off on a tangent that they deserved to be answered with, ?you?ll see when I?ve gone over the itinerary.? Bon Bon gave him a queer look, as thought she were so defensive that she thought he was making a pass at her. Larce didn?t care to correct her, he?d let her stew. Besides, she could just as easily be frustrated that he wasn?t giving her enough attention. In his mind he pegged her as a girl that required all too much attention. She?d obviously been babied in this group; her given call sign was now an obvious clue. He was almost certain now that he was to fear retribution over his slighting of her. [i]?Lynch knows you?ve got a wire, Larce. He?s looking right through you too. I?d say it?s safe to assume that he?s figured you out.?[/i] Years of experience at being caught or challenged prevented Larce from stiffening up and glancing across at Lynch, even inadvertently. Still, a jolt of panic squeezed his gut hard, and he felt the weight of Lynch?s gaze. He wasn?t surprised that Lynch hadn?t called him on it straight away, psychological assessments had pegged him as one who liked to hold all of the cards. It didn?t mean Larce enjoyed the idea of his key ace slipping from his hand, however. ?You?ve all perused the brief, I?m assuming. Some of you have issues with it, but I?m afraid you will have to bear with it until further notice. These are our orders and these are the parameters we have to work with.? [i] ?Must you goad them? Must you??[/i] ?You were all instructed to arrive fully kitted up at this base, I will not accept any excuses for missing equipment. Specialist gear-? he looked meaningfully at Boom, ?-will arrive if it has been correctly requested. Boom, I understand your heavy explosives have arrived intact, and will be supplied to you in the field. ?I cannot stress enough to you that in this urban situation we cannot risk over exposure. The Tritonal charge is called for in significant situations, and will always be filed under plan B in my book. The risk for civilian casualties is too great.? Larce didn?t dare look at Boom, but continued along before there could be an interruption. ?We have received indication from our sources that a high member of the National Liberation Army is currently on a business trip here in Germany, discussing purchase of a major shipment of arms from manufacturers in the country. ?Normally this is of no consequence to us, they are conventional arms. The ELN hasn?t made any active campaigns against the U.S. since the late 90?s, when they focused on kidnapping various U.S. citizens. The matter was resolved to our satisfaction and they were long ago dropped as a threat to this country.? The lights dimmed as Larce switched on the projector, showing various photos of a man under numerous guises. ?This is our man. A new recruit to the ELN, but he has already been at work expanding the ranks and region of influence of the ELN. We understand that he recently was placed in charge of the entire organisation, shipped directly from Cuba herself, a warning sign that Castro has renewed his efforts in making Colombia another Marxist state. Ominously the previous leader, Felipe Torres, has vanished from the picture. ?One could say that it was unwise of the Colombian government for releasing him in the first place, but even our concerted efforts have revealed nothing.? [i] Lies, lies, lies. Torres was the initial whistle blower when a CIA mission snagged him on an information mission. Torres was being hunted by his own men, orders from the new head man. Torres granted protection in exchange for all he knew, which turned out to not be much at all.[/i] ?So what?s this Marxist?s name, then?? Bon Bon asked, looking carefully at the photo. ?Isidro Amistad. Age unknown, but he has been described as being in his late twenties or early thirties. There aren?t any records of him, anywhere.? [i] That was true. But if you apparently drop from the sky, your records generally don?t drop with you.[/i] ?The ELN?s main operational area is in the rural and mountainous areas of north, northeast, and southwest Colombia and Venezuela border regions. Their influence is growing and intelligence has finally confirmed whispered allegations that the group has sanctuary and safe harbour in Venezuela itself. The group?s ranks have swelled from 3000-6000 to a definite 8000 and climbing. We?re going to have a war on our hands that has every potential of swelling up after us, especially if Amistad comes from Castro himself. ?Our objective is to find Amistad?s source of income and find out exactly what he?s up to in Germany. There?s nothing but endless chatter in the weapon?s pipeline, he could also be after anything from Anthrax to a thermonuclear backpack, and we need something concrete if we?re to move against this potential threat. ?In your mission briefs you will find floor plans and schematics of the hotel that Isidro is staying at in downtown Berlin. We need to go in and snatch his computer and his files and, if possible, him as well. Lynch and Boom will be going in the main entrance for the computer and anything else of importance, while I?ll enter from the back for the man himself. ?Fleisch and Bon Bon will be on point in a blacked out Beamer Z3, monitoring communications and our shoulder camera feeds. If anything is up, they will have to make the call for plan B. It?ll be big, it will be messy, and it will be a last resort.? Larce flicked another slide over, showing a list of arms and equipment. ?This is a full kit mission; we are expecting the possibility of heavy resistance and automatic arms. Full body armour, standard ammunition with a folding stock G386k submachine gun main arm, with an optional Glock 7 pistol side arm. Boom will have her specialist equipment, but we have been all rated and approved for C2 plastic explosive door busters and flashbangs. ?Bon Bon, your Barrett ?Light 50? rifle will be in the vehicle. Owing to our situation and your role here, it will not be necessary. However, it pays to be cautious. There may be hitherto unseen circumstances that may arise, and we will be on our own until we reach extraction.? [i] Liar. You just want to see what she?ll do with her weapon in such close proximity. You?re just itching to see how long it will take her to ignore standing orders and use it.[/i] Larce pulled out four jet black PDA devices from his briefcase and slid them out one to each member. Each caught it in turn, without taking their eyes off him. ?Finally, we have a new set of communications devices fresh from the manufacturers. They have been especially coded from the ground up on a new OS, in a totally new programming language. The designers behind it claim it to be a near Eternity Code, they estimate we have a maximum five years before it becomes obsolete, even less if one of these is lost to enemy hands. Do not lose it. ?You will find that, once it is set, this machine will respond only to your unique thumbprint or voice. We have a dedicated satellite in synchronised orbit, just to keep these running. The GPS locating system will not only tell you where you are, but also tell you where your team members are. The satellite has a degree of thermal manipulation and, as such, will be able to indicate warm bodies present in an approximate radius. ?The system is still being tweaked and should by no means be declared reliable by itself, but it can give a fair indication of what you?re up against when combined with the high frequency sonar system built into the system itself. In effect, you will have a map of the area flagging members of your team, as well as possible threats.? A few eyebrows went up. He sincerely doubted that any of them understood the technobabble, but the idea of a portable motion detector seemed to be pertinent. The system for detecting possible hostile combatants wasn?t foolproof, but it was accurate to within half a metre for positioning of the rest of the team. ?Your helmet headsets and camera feeds will be routed directly through this device, and all communication will be fed through its secure channel. If necessary, it can act as a cell phone, internet browser, and storage device.? Larce was deeply impressed with the device. There were a few other nifty features that had been approved and added on his recommendation, most of which revolved around sophisticated electric lock hacking and security system disabling. The PDA itself was even equipped with a remote or central EMP detonation device, in case it should fall into the wrong hands. ?All tactical equipment will be loaded in the vehicle by 0200 hours; we will be leaving at 0210. You have twelve hours to spend on sleep cycle and equipment management. I will be in the officer?s quarters, one floor above yours. If you have any grievances with the mission, I advise you to make a solid case before you harass me. I am your officer, and I will pull rank on insubordination.? There was a hiss of static in Larce?s ear, an indication that even the usually flippant Langford was lost for words. Larce could feel his black heart frost over, his mind already comfortable in establishing himself as a stereotypical, arrogant, intelligence officer. Larce closed his briefcase with a snap. ?Dismissed.? [/FONT][/SIZE]

[FONT=Trebuchet MS][SIZE=1]I must say, I'm pleased that people enjoyed SYF enough to feel that it deserved mention ^_^. I'm also terribly flattered, but that goes without saying, lol. Also, I am in love with the SYF graphic. I glanced over it and thought, "wow, that's what I always wanted to do for SYF!" After a while I actually read the information and dates on it and realised that research and such had gone into it. So who was the fan behind it? I would love to [strike]pilfer[/strike] save it for posterity...[/font][/size]

[FONT=Trebuchet MS]Hmm, let's see. I allowed myself to be swayed into going to a "hardcore" punk show in Brisbane's Fortitude Valley [also referred to as "the valley"]. Certainly regretted that. When you arrive at a show and someone tells you, "oh, I should have told you to bring ear plugs" -you know you may have made a wrong decision. It was amusing though. I got to have a complete stranger bleed on me [When I left I found blood that wasn't mine, go figure], enjoyed funny looks from people [I was wearing a red shirt instead of a black one, oe noes!!1 Not true punx!], and managed to phone three people and give them a earful of hardcore punk straight from the source. Ah, good times... ..wait. Maybe not. What was my point? You do stupid things sometimes to get to know someone, but it's always worth it for the laughs you get when looking back on it. I mean, I would have loved to see the look on my face when the local supporting band for Parkway Drive started playing...and screaming incomprehensibly into the microphone so it was nothing but foul language and feedback. Haha..Optimus Prime sticker on the guitar amp.. *cough* >.>;;[/font]

[SIZE=1][FONT=Trebuchet MS]I personally would rather have the world forsake me. It'd be less emotional and physical torture than your rather morbid suggestion. The post-traumatic-stress disorder from the ordeal would haunt me, dark depression and so on and so forth. What about the person that did it to you? What other crimes have they committed? Now that I think about it, being forsaken by the world would torture me for the rest of my miserable life. Would I be forsaken because of a righteous decision? The state of the world would wear heavily on my heart, especially if those forsaking me were my friends. I'd certainly feel lost and scorned for the rest of my life, eventually succumbing to depression with no-one by my side. How awful. What about being forsaken for a..lets just say less-than-good decision or action? Personal conscience or guilt would kill me quicker. Being constantly reminded for choosing the wrong, haunted by my actions. No chance of redemption for the rest of my days. Ouch. Not cool. It's official then. I'd go with the comparitively brief physical torture. I'd rather suffer in the short term and then overcome my terrible ordeal, with friends at my side, than be plagued by my conscience and the people of the earth for the rest of my days. The toughest part of that decision would be forgiving the person that tortured me so..] Right right. Writing an essay response, sorry about that. I just got thinking. [b]EDIT: Dash it all! Multitasking takes a lot of time..[/b] [b]Raiyuu[/b]: Hm All gigs, ever, without them ever acknowledging you...or that one amazing evening? Okay wait. Hm. That's how I thought of it. I'd have to go with the one amazing and personalised show. I mean, I hardly go out to gigs because I don't have the cash and people who go to gigs generally wear tight women's jeans and scare me.. I'd have to say that I'd rather have [b]Flogging Molly[/b] play a gig for my mates and I, with the chance of really getting to know them afterwards, than visit their shows merely as a consumer. Wait a sec, they'd have to get to know me first, to personalise the show for me. Wow. Definitely going with the personal gig thing. Two thumbs up! [i]Also[/i] considering that most of the questions are frankly rather morbid or life/death decisions, I thought I'd [i]also[/i] ask a real question. This is something that recently I had to overcome, so you can taste the cutting edge rawness or something something.. Existential moments are bittersweet. Suck it in! Would you rather be a full time student studying a science degree that requires 20 contact hours, and support yourself by working 30 hours a week so that you can [i]eventually[/i] afford textbooks? Or, Would you rather drop a subject, work less hours, and complete your degree two years time instead of one? [Keeping in mind that without the extra money, rent would suck and so would your budget?][/size][/font]

[SIZE=1]Terribly sorry it's so late. I've been a reasonably [URL=http://www.supanews.com.au]busy[/URL] young lad. But I did fulfil my promise to have this started before uni, woo! If you have any questions, please don't hesitate to ask. Go forth and frolic, and above all, enjoy the show. ~~~ [FONT=Trebuchet MS] Larce marched down the corridor with the confident stride of a man in a business suit. It was tailored to give him a comfortable fit, while still giving him enough space to hide the side arm locked in its holster underneath his left arm. The suit was simple and black in design, a simple clone of the thousands worn by stereotypical government agents all over the country. It came with the job, along with the side arm, earpiece and ?V.I.P? pass fastened to his breast pocket. He had been training with the C.I.A for eighteen months now. His twenty-fifth birthday was spent on good behaviour leave in a Wendy?s just before it closed for the night. It was a joyous event spent with three of his best close and personal handlers. Four grown men sitting around a laughably small table, all in business suits, three of which who watched in stony silence as one tried to casually eat a banana split. Despite himself, Larce had actually enjoyed his birthday. It was small, quiet, and he actually spent it with other people. It would have been a golden memory if his entourage weren?t being paid to tag and bag him if he attempted to escape. It didn?t help either that they were under strict orders to not communicate with him beyond simple instructions. That was a year ago now. Since then he had ?graduated? from their basic training and earned their trust, of sorts. He had a brief stint of field training and then he was fast-tracked to become an agent-handler. Throughout the entire experience he drew on his own thief-like abilities and deliberately exceeded what was required of him. In all fields he excelled and impressed those training him. He had been asked several times why he hadn?t pursued a career in the armed services, but that question had been answered when he was given basic weapons training. Larce loathed any weapon that was given to him. He could hit the paper targets, but he winced at every pull of the trigger, blinking with every shot. He downright refused to take part in any further training, but further blackmail persuaded him otherwise. After sufficient prodding he became quite efficient with the submachine guns that were so associated with tactical squads around the world. He was commended on his abilities with the lightweight full-sized G36k, a submachine gun that was designed in the 90?s with the German Bundeswehr in mind. He loathed every minute of his accolades, personally vowing to never use one in the field. It sickened him to receive a licence from the government that detailed his right and duty to carry a concealed side arm at all times. After his inauguration he was presented with the ultra-light weight polymer Glock pistol, which had remained locked in a draw since he received it. Since being given this assignment, he carried it in his slim Samsonite briefcase to just keep up with protocol. The sidearm he carried now in his holster was the highly stylised ?Citizen Taser X26C.? It was capable of taking out an antagonist from 10 feet, and that suited Larce just fine. He wasn?t intending to be in an open field any time soon. The weapon reassured him, alleviating his own fear of taking another person?s life. [i] ?That could destroy me.?[/i] He thought, as he swiped his pass and entered an elevator. [i]?I?ll steal and pillage for them, but I?ll never kill on their behalf.?[/i] ?Afternoon Agent ?Larce?.? Larce rolled his eyes behind his dark aviators. He could even hear the quotation marks clang into place. He nodded stiffly and removed his glasses, hooking them in his breast pocket. ?Agent Reilly.? Larce forced a smile. ?I wasn?t informed you would be attending this briefing.? The man known as Reilly smiled and tapped his earpiece before speaking. ?Oh I won?t be, ?Larce,? at least not officially. Uncle Sam has extended your leash, you have free roam for as far as you stretch under our rules. You may be a handler now, but you are still under my jurisdiction.? ?Sir.? Larce gave a swift salute, staring hard above and beyond Reilly?s shoulder. ?Very good, thief. Now you run along and play nice with your team. We expect results, and you understand the terms of engagement. Do not disappoint us. That is all.? Agent Reilly bent slightly and picked up his own briefcase before entering the elevator that Larce had just exited. Larce waited for a full ten seconds after the doors closing before he continued walking, counting the steps under his breath. [i]?I have a stealth man,? [/i]he thought as he walked closer to the conference room, [i]?he?ll be very useful. The sniper though, she?ll be superfluous. I?ll have to use her for communications knowledge, as simple as that may be. The heavy weapons and demolitions woman would be excellent for breaching?what I would give to have her by my side three years ago. We could have cleaned up.?[/i] Larce paused at the door, swiping his card again and nodding at the man on the door. [i]?Who else is there? Ah yes. The medic. I?ll have to pair him up with the sniper. Completely useless for this task. They?ll be carrying the equipment for the other two.?[/i] The door hissed open, sliding into a recess in the wall. As he stepped over the threshold, he felt every eye in the room on him. Despite their business attire, Larce could pick all of them for who they were. Professional soldiers, killers. People who looked obviously uncomfortable outside of fatigues. From the expressions on their faces, it was pretty obvious what their opinion of intelligence officers were. [i] ?Go right ahead, Larce.?[/i] A voice crackled in his earpiece. [i]?Start impressing your team. As far as they know, you?re some pencil pusher that?s had this job for years. First impressions count. They?ll already hate your guts because of the bad intel we received on the current Sudan/Egypt mess. Not to mention various other unknown conflicts we screwed up in the past over in Europe.?[/i] Larce remained carefully deadpan, with his jaw set straight. The voice in his ear was one Agent Langford, the only other C.I.A agent besides Reilly to know his true heritage. He and Reilly had taken very different approaches to their assignment and as such Larce hated Reilly with a passion of a thousand suns, but had a mutual respect relationship with Langford. He particularly enjoyed Langford?s complete disregard for political correctness, something Reilly couldn?t live without. ?Good afternoon.? Larce said as he placed his briefcase delicately on the table. ?I am Agent Larce, and I have been assigned to you as your C.I.A handler. As such, I will be your direct link to the chain of command during this mission.? There was silence in the room. It was a careful measured, and above all, expectant silence. Larce?s features didn?t change. ?I understand you were expecting a new military CO to lead your team, I believe you recommended one?Captain Levack for the position?? [i] ?Don?t go there Larce. The grunts hate it when intel act as though they have something over them,?[/i] Langford muttered carefully over the microphone, warning rising in his voice. Larce maintained his level tone and pulled out several files from his briefcase, ?unfortunately Captain Levack is otherwise detained elsewhere. He would have been a fitting military replacement for your previous CO, but the heads of 3R have decided that the team requires a distinctly less military approach. As such, I have been transferred and given the position as your new squad leader and C.I.A handler. You will all be reporting directly to me, and I will be reporting directly to these United States.? Several faces around the table hardened, in particular the medic ?Fleisch? and the saboteur ?Boom.? ?Lynch? merely looked unimpressed, while ?Bon Bon? ?how young is she? What is she doing here?- looked utterly bewildered. Still not giving away any emotion, Larce slid four folders out across the table, one to each team member. He then closed the briefcase with a distinct snap and turned on the plasma screen that lay face up in the table. ?Our mission is quite simple. As I understand you have been the first on scene for each disaster or minor altercation that has come up in the past year. Each of your files comes brimming with recommendations and otherwise. Because of your abilities, you have been penned for a new job. A very dangerous, and very deep black, job. ?Essentially, Uncle Sam has decided that we are losing too much ground by waiting for the terrorists to act. We need to fight them on their own turf. We are to become very, very proactive about this. ?Recent investigations have informed us that, while countries will allow a 3R team in our military and naval bases, we may not be the first informed of an attack being prepared against our people. Going through legal channels can easily raise red flags terrorist sympathetic groups, and can allow big fish to escape through the net. This way we can operate outside of the public eye, and thus avoid any confrontations with the U.N. and our loyal friendly nations. ?You can think of our mission to be a major pre-emptive strike on any and all forces that combine against our way of life. Welcome to operation Silent Fox.? [i] ?I still think that?s a stupid name,though it does beat ?Enduring Freedom??[/i] Langford muttered to Reilly, before speaking over the microphone to Larce [i] ? Well done Larce, next time try it without the subtle sarcasm.?[/i] [/FONT][/SIZE]

[FONT=Trebuchet MS][SIZE=1]Excellent, and that's that. Sign ups are officially closed, I shall work on the opening post for the thread directly. Mind you, my internet doesn't like connecting to the Otaku network for some reason so I may come across some problems. >.>;;[/font][/size] EDIT: It's [b][URL=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=52188]up[/URL][/b]

[QUOTE=Dodeca]We're not looking at a WMD capable of wiping out all life in an area and rendering it almost uninhabitable for centuries [/QUOTE] [FONT=Trebuchet MS]Sure we can. As long as that area is a [URL=http://www.apple.com/trailers/wb/new_york_minute/]cinema[/URL] I would love an invisibility cloak, but I do agree that there would be problems arising from its possible perfection and production. Sure, it's not equal to [b]The Arbiter's[/b] active camouflage, but any advantage is an advantage none the less. Sure, there would be counter-measures and anti-counter-measures, but someone will slip up somewhere and automatically the point will be "the perpetrator was wearing digital camouflage gear." Of course it's still in recent history when the British thought it preposterous and ignoble to not wear identifiable colours into battle [The Redcoats, anyone? [[note: red was a cheap colour, go figure]] ], and I'm pretty sure I haven't heard any news reports about current camouflage being the reason why something went sour. [It's at this point I realise that I'm having an argument with myself inside my head. Not cool] Bottom line: very clever idea that proves light physics is good for something, but the potential military uses far outweigh the benefits that will be given to birdwatchers. ...still a very clever invention. I mean, popular culture promised us quite a few technological marvels in the millenium, flying cars for instance. I'm yet to see one, but this camouflage technology comes as a nice compensation prize..[/FONT]

[FONT=Trebuchet MS][SIZE=1]Hilarity, engaged! ^_^ I honestly can't believe I haven't looked in on this until now. I just spent the night reading the entire thing, and loved it. I'm surprised that I managed to get the insider jokes, considering that I spent most of the past 2-3 years hiding out in the Adventure Arena. [Okay, that's a lie. I spent the last 2-3 years on OB hiding out in SYF] The Des/nad interactions had me laughing so hard that a housemate came in to see what I was doing. [Choking on Euphoria, I replied]. A rather bemused smile crossed his face as he read, and then he left me to my own devices. It really must be an OB thing. [how delightfully [i]elitist[/i] of me]. In the earlier stuff I must say you really hit [b]Harley[/b]'s personality right on the head. The plushies [particularly the deceitfully cute mini-Ken] reminded me of the old old days when [b]Q_A[/b] started the whole nonsense. I believe my mini-self had a fear of pineapples [or was it love?] and a perchance to do evil at will. Ah, OB Big Brother; you started so much [strike]and really highlighted my own immaturity.[/strike] [Any of you who go back to break it out of the archives will be the first to lose an arm. Don't make me dig up mini-Liam]. You've really excelled here, [b]Solo[/b]. Two thumbs up![/FONT][/SIZE]

[FONT=Trebuchet MS]Hey, this is pretty snazzy. All I need to do now is connect the orbital velocity cannon into the Frappr Matrix and I'll finally be rid of that dastardly Baron! Bahaha! I mean...uh. Hmm. I shouldn't go and put my evil plans out in the open like that. *cough* Blast! Asphy beat me to Brisbane on Frappr! That's just not fair, she's just a transient, I swear! lol ^_~[/FONT]

[center][IMG]http://syf.250free.com/2005/3R2.jpg[/IMG] [/center] [FONT=Trebuchet MS][b][center]War makes thieves and peace hangs them. ~George Herbert[/center][/b] [center][b][Source of the Force: The Humble Beginning][/b][/center] War is a constant threat in the proverbial melting pot of the world?s cultures. The need for resources; the need for insults to be avenged; or the need for ?pre-emptive strikes? for the defence of liberty, all of these and more have resulted in conflict. Whether the war of words or to the extremity of shedding of blood, man has not been satisfied with the status quo. War has been a necessity for thousands of years, a tool in the hands of those in power. Armies have been massed and soldiers have been trained to do what they have to, in order to carry out their objectives. In recent years, now that war is easily analysed, investigated and decried by the people, all out war has been all but banished in the first world. Instead, secret ?snatch and grab? missions are utilised to the same end. Specially trained squads in various sections of the military are created and used to ?resolve? situations out of the public eye. Rapid Response Recon units are situated all over the world, placed especially so they can be the first on scene. They have been sourced from all branches of the American Military for their superior skills and field experience. Many members of 3R are battle-hardened veterans that are bred on their own love of country, with a side of love of money. However, there are a few members that have been accelerated straight from boot camp into the field for their promising aptitude for battle skills and weapon proficiency. They are a gamble on the government?s behalf, but nine times out of ten, they pay off. Those that do not are given the funeral they deserve, and are then never spoken of again. Soldiers, once used to the art of combat in the field, are trained by their nation?s S.W.A.T. and N.S.A leaders to be the best of the best in the urban environment. A gruelling course is set up, taking the best of two years to complete. Their field experience is honed down to suit a claustrophobic environment and a political nightmare. Many are found wanting, and are simply shuffled across to their respective military special forces. The remainder are squeezed in the vice to a diamond-like quality and applied to the world. [b][Present Day:][/b] The success of these units is second to none. Their ability to assess any situation and apply the correct amount of force has caused many a crisis to be avoided. All has been done outside of the public eye. The military heads have decided to expand the jurisdiction of the 3R from a defensive role to a more?aggressive one. Units that have been trained to resolve kidnappings and terrorist acts on foreign soil are now being fine tuned and engineered to commit these crimes, all in the name of ?pre-emptive strikes.? Alarming new developments have caused these radical changes. Effectively, America is now waging a private and secret war with every country on Earth. The units don?t care; it?s only a slight change of plan. Now they catch the bad guys before they commit the crimes, instead of cleaning up the mess they make. They have successfully eliminated a handful of terrorist sleeper cells and averted disaster. Working closely with the Central Intelligence Agency, they have kidnapped important faction leaders and delivered them to offshore interrogation facilities. Apart from occasional mishaps, the operations are seamless. Each unit consists of five members, each a specialist in their field. One, the squad senior officer and operation master strategist. Two, the heavy weapons and demolitions officer. Three, the team sniper and communications officer. Four, the assassination and stealth expert. The fifth and final member of the squad is the medical officer. All members of the squads are briefed and debriefed on the nature of their mission by their senior officer, who has been in contact with their handler. At all times they are on call. While they are in an urban environment, untouched by war, they are on the same level of high alert suitable for a war situation. They act like a sleeper cell, and as one they eliminate all possible threats for Uncle Sam. Industrial espionage, kidnapping, assassination and more, are their tools. Each squad acts independently of the other but, like in a wartime situation, they can call for reinforcements. That is their one advantage over their foe. One squad in particular has far outshone the rest. They were recently sourced from a current war, taken from their position as a frontline Recon squad. Accolades of peers and officers have painted a powerful picture of their abilities, and their training officers have applauded their aptitude for an urban environment. They have bonded and become a close-knit group, with S.W.A.T. and military training now under their belts. After several urban missions, the new ?pre-emptive attack? legislation has been approved, and their senior officer has briefed them one last time. The next day, he is gone. They have been informed by their handler that he has been transferred. Also, against the normal ?unofficial? procedure, they will not have any input on their new squad member, nor will their be able to recommend a new CO. In fact, their new senior officer isn?t whom they expected, or whom they wanted. He is a civilian, and he is a thief. He refers to himself simply as ?Larce,? and will tell them exactly what they will be doing, and why it will be completely black book. [center]~~~~[/center] [b]Name:[/b] ?Larce? [b]Callsign:[/b] ?Larce? (Short and sweet please) [b] Age:[/b] 25 (Remember, mid thirties at least. Larce?s age is supposed to be a major part of the rift between him and the team. Only Lady A has permission otherwise, for reasons which you shall see soon enough) [b]Team Position:[/b] New squad leader [b]Bio:[/b] Larce was a young man that grew up with clever talents. He was born into a typical ?army? family and became a typical army brat. His father, an infantry sergeant, tried to discipline him like his other brothers by enrolling him in military school. Complaints arose from his teachers how things would mysteriously disappear, and reappear back in their original places after hours of fruitless searching. Though there was no actual evidence, all fingers were pointed at Larce and he was severely reprimanded before being suspended. Even after his departure, things continued to disappear and one instructor arrived to find his entire office stripped bare with nothing left but an itinerary receipt from eBay sticky taped to the blackboard. Larce, with an alibi which conveniently him placed in another state, was let off the hook. From that point onwards he began to extend his ability to pilfer, revelling in the strengths and tales of the cat burglars of old. One in a million, he managed to avoid the seedy underside of robbery and violence and managed to maintain an almost genteel air with his burglaries. None saw him enter and none saw him leave with any items. He constantly managed to maintain a cover with his family, his mother adoring him and his father and siblings actively engaged in war overseas. At his mother?s wish he ?decided to do something with his life? and enrolled in a Political Science degree, graduating with honours and giving him a lucrative internship in a law firm in the city. Now adequately placed to fully test his abilities, he began to grow and spread out his endeavours, making much on the side and gaining contacts left and right. His curious ability to simply make objects ?disappear? without the knowledge of their owners made him in high demand. Naivety led him to think nothing of it, and led him to be caught by the FBI during one of his last civilian big jobs. [[b]Backstory[/b]] (Just a little something to show me you writing talent, and to show that your character is a fully functioning little individual. ^_^] This was a huge deal. Larce had been researching it for months; floor plans and security had been the top of his list. There had never been a man on the inside, and he didn?t need one anyway. He made special care to be the only one that knew about his criminal exploits and undertakings, which caused him to be surprised all the more when he was caught. The item he was searching for was a blessedly small collection of Shakespeare?s work. A rare selection of documents were on loan from the British Government, and Larce was quite happy to collect them for auction at a later date. Owing to the sensitive nature of the items he was planning to steal, he wouldn?t have a market of slightly legitimate buyers. Unfortunately this left him with shady collectors with odd habits that ended up haunting him home. (One purchaser of a fine Egyptian vase, skilfully taken from a Tutankhamun exhibit, continually contacted him for advice on which curtains would match it most appropriately.) Larce drove these thoughts from his mind as he approached the centre. He had checked out the Kennedy Centre?s maps and layout online, and had committed them to memory. He knew there was to be a lecture on Shakespeare?s original documents, some controversial debate over whether or not Romeo and Juliet was actually written by two people instead of one. The lecturer had brought excerpts of the hardcopy original to further highlight his point that there were actually two distinct separate sets of handwriting on the Shakespeare?s notes. Larce frowned again. He had to stop thinking of the mark. If he started counting the dollars while he was in the bank, the police would catch him red handed before he had the chance to admire the ink work on a hundred dollar bill. In and out, before the susurrus became a horde of people and security. It was a day job, so he had to be careful. ?Come on son?it?s a cake walk. Just like the war games trophy? He muttered to himself while stepping calmly into the foyer. He had adopted a bookish outfit, trendy, but with the usual wear and tear of a low-income student. He held a notebook in one hand and his backpack strap with the other, shouldering the bag higher up his back. It was cold out, so he was rugged up nicely in easily excusable gloves and greatcoat, guaranteeing a lack of fingerprints or evidence on the scene. As he walked, he automatically attached himself to a group of, what appeared to be, literature students. They all flashed their tickets and he managed to glide through with them without being noticed. Minutes later he was sitting comfortably in the large Eisenhower Theatre, now packed with intellectuals and knowledge hungry students. He resisted the urge to dry retch as the pungent aroma of what could only be created by a disciple of ?the great unwashed mass,? assaulted his nose. Coughing, eyes watering, he nodded politely as the rather aromatic student scurried past and sat next to him, clasping his copy of the complete work of Shakespeare to his chest. Larce noted, with a thrill, that it seemed to be heavily annotated and book marked, complete with post-it notes sticking out of its pages like a rudimentary aura. [I] ?Excellent.?[/I] He thought, smiling to himself. With one careful remark, the gentleman next to him would seize the attention of everyone in the room with his vicious and pointless argument over some ridiculous detail that none without his intellect could find. Unwittingly, the eager student had become Larce?s faithful accomplice, making a perfect distraction. Larce bid his time, carefully watching the documents in their plexiglass cases, sitting comfortably at the back of the stage near the curtain. As the lecturer made his point, an aide would carefully select one transparent container and place it gently underneath a digital overhead projector, all the while keeping his back to the pieces. Half an hour later Larce left the building with two of the original pieces sitting comfortably in his bag. No one had noticed him swapping them, they were too busy wishing death on the know-it-all in the front row. The plan had worked without a hitch and now he strode comfortably to his car, and noticed something odd. ?I [I]knew[/I] I should have gone in the evening?? He muttered. Two plainclothes policemen stood behind him, waving him forward to the one that was standing next to his vehicle, with his hands sitting casually in his pockets. Larce didn?t like the smile on his face, and had the sinking feeling that he certainly wouldn?t like what he was going to say to him. ?Afternoon sir, I believe Uncle Sam and Mr Shakespeare would love to know what?s in your bag right now.? [I]Dammit.[/I] [center]~~~~[/center] Right. Now you know the drill. The role of team sniper and stealth expert [EDIT: Whoops!] has been already vouchsafed with me and are [b]not[/b] up for grabs, sorry. If you have any questions or otherwise, feel free to PM me. Try not to clog up the thread with any one liner questions. Also, in case you are wondering, if all the team positions are taken [and I haven't said otherwise] feel free to contest one of the non-vouchsafed places. If you don't get in, don't worry. It's not end of the world, I may have use for you yet ^_~ Also, I don't approve of overly sexual or graphic scenes, so please think about it if you're going to use one, mmkay? The rating is there as a safety net, it's not an open invitation, lol. There will be violence, however, and adult themes. If I haven't said it already [or you haven't picked it up yet] there is a very high chance of this becoming political rather quickly. It doesn't have to, but it may later on. If you are offended by me ragging fictional [or are they?] American policies, please don't hurt yourself. I would have used Australia, but this RPG is definitely on too large a military scale for us humble little battlers to even attempt, even in a fictional world. There we go. Best of luck, and I hope you'll have fun with this ^_^ [/FONT]

[FONT=Trebuchet MS]Oh [b]Salty Bob[/b], you so [i]dry[/i] I work in a newsagency in the inner city, near a minor bus terminal on a main street. It's effectively an island, because of the mall behind it and the major thoroughfares that surround it. My point? We get lots of customers. It's generally an ebbing and flowing environment, with periods of nothing and periods of intense amounts of people. My personal pet peeve is when some...customer...rushes up demanding in a million-miles-per-hour-you're-not-worth-my-time voice, of all things, [i]gum[/i]. I kid you not. Apparently it's worth risking missing your bus for a pack of gum. Then they have the nerve to get impatient when they're at the end of a line, with three people frantically serving. I mean, it's only [i]gum[/i] for heaven's sake. It's no reason to swear and give me a dirty look when your bus drives off. Honestly, some people can be rather stupid. There is a lot more, generally customer related [all the other stuff has been mentioned already..], but I'm not going to burden you with it. Consider yourself spared. Also, fear the wrath of casual staff who can [and [i]will[/i] ] give you your change in 20 cent pieces if you're a complete and utter prat. lol.[/FONT]

[SIZE=1][FONT=Trebuchet MS]Personally stereotyping doesn't hold any truck with me. Everyone has their own good and bad qualities. I know I've said otherwise in the past, but moving on from highschool allows for some serious hindsight. At my school there wasn't really too much in the way of [i]vindictive[/i] stereotyping towards the end there. [Which I have been informed by friends at Uni is either a: quite common, or b: impossible, lol] Obviously in the younger grades it existed, because kids are stupid and need rocks thrown at them, but people tend to grow up. If they don't, don't worry about it. You only have to see them for a couple years. If they tried half of that stuff in the "real world," they would be bounced so quickly by someone that their heads wouldn't have time to spin. Of course, as [b]The Harlequin[/b] has just said to me [i]"There wasn't [stereotyping] on our behalf so much. The only reason I say that though, is because most of the people that we called redneck idiots were redneck idiots..."[/i] I guess we stereotype in life because we like the world to be ordered into our chosen flavour of bite-sized pieces. I guess I only have qualms with stupidity, which I feel is understandable. In my eyes, it justifies my distrust of all things emo, ^_~[/FONT][/SIZE]

[size="1"] Liam brushed down his jacket, smoothing it out. He smiled slightly, looked at Zharra, and said, ?you?re not too shabby yourself. Where?s rib-boy?? Zharra tilted her head back towards her room. ?He?s being fitted now. He?ll be alright for the mission too, thanks for asking.? She smiled, showing her teeth. There was a warning in her tone, but her eyes sparkled. Liam picked up his Desert Eagle and unsuccessfully tried to hide it in the breast-pocket holster. When he buttoned up his jacket there was a conspicuous bulge. Clearly the gun was too big for the Velcro holster, which caused him to frown in frustration. ?Honestly, stupid thing. How the hell am I going to hide this?? Liam tried tucking it into his belt, under his shirt. ?What the?this suit does not give me any breathing space.? ?Like you can complain.? Zharra said, smoothing down her skirt. ?The Kevlar is shaped so we look normal. There?s only enough space for some knives and some low-calibre pistols.? She shrugged slightly, ?forget spare clips of ammunition.? Liam frowned. This was not good. If nothing happened, he wouldn?t need the ammunition?or the gun for that matter. But if something did? ?..alternatively you could simply hide it in your briefcase.? Zharra indicated the stylish soft leather briefcase that was sitting unnoticed at his feet. Liam looked down. ?Right!? He said, picking it up, ?this will do nicely.? Amused, Zharra watched as Liam opened the flap, found the hidden pouch, and hid his gun and a spare clip. At the same time he shoved in his laptop and various computer things, a spare battery, hard-drive and DVD-RW combo drive. Finally he put in his phone, handless kit, and a day planner. As the secret pouch was in the centre of the bag, it acted as an innocent divider that separated the bag into two halves. A casual inspection or ?feel? would warrant an investigation, which would find various easily explainable oddly shaped objects. Satisfied, Liam folded the flap over and clasped it, adjusted the shoulder strap, and slung the back behind himself so it rested against his backside with the strap diagonally across his front. Zharra shook her head and simply clapped slowly. ?Very nice. Here I am, thinking that you were incapable of accessorising, let alone scrubbing up. Pity you?re about twelve hours early.? She smirked and put her head out of the doorway. ??I think Bradley may need a little help. It seems he?s lost himself in his own suit.? ??I wouldn?t put it past him.? Zharra stepped gracefully out of the room and made her way back to help the confused Bradley. Liam smiled to himself and went back to his clothes that he had discarded onto the floor. He rummaged for a few seconds and pulled out the steel whip and flicked it out. His jacket moved with the flick, causing the bag to shift and bounce slightly. The weight of the equipment hit his legs, putting him off balance slightly, all of which happened in seconds. This would pose a problem. If he were to react to a situation, he would need to move quickly, but to move quickly, he?d need to put his bag down. If he were to put his weapon down, he would be separated from his gun. Big problem. He?d have to get his hands on knife or something; he couldn?t exactly effectively throw his whip at someone and expect them to be down for the count. Liam put the whip in his inside breast pocket, it was too long to easily pass off as a pen, but the slight ?starchiness? of his jacket hid the slim object. For now it would have to do. He?d have to find a knife or something, unfortunately he didn?t have any in his possession, he moved away from the whole ?knife in a boot? combat a couple years ago. It looked as though he?d have to revisit it again and borrow a knife from the armoury. And then Eve walked past his door. Liam?s head snapped up and a plan popped into his head the instant he saw her. He shouted her name out and jumped out into the corridor. She had ignored him, but that was all the better for the plan. He ran after her, bag bouncing the whole way, and dropped a hand heavily on her shoulder. He knew it would happen, but her speed still surprised him. Eve whipped around, a needle-sharp blade magically appearing in her hand. Liam moved just as quickly and caught her wrist, she responded by punching him in the stomach. He suppressed the cough and squeezed her wrist, pulling the knife out of her hands and whisked it away to one of his jacket?s hidden pockets. ?Thank you very much!? He said brightly, secretly grateful he had tensed his stomach muscles before the punch. Eve was confused. It was obvious she had acted on auto-pilot and now she had just woken up. Liam noticed her puzzlement and twirled her around, causing her to face the in the direction the tailor had gone. ?There we go lass, see that rack there? No, not yours dear. The one with the clothes on it. Yes, now go there and speak with the tall British chap, he?ll sort you out and give you a lovely new business suit.? Eve missed most of it, lucky for Liam, and managed a startled, ?-whuh?? But by then Liam had shoved her gently and retreated to his room, quickly and silently locking his door behind him. In the safety of his room, Liam grinned and checked out the blade he had pilfered, or rather, borrowed. 'Now maybe she won't be able to cut me so much.' [/size]

Don't shoot me. I'm too cute to die! At least I made the effort..x.X; This post took waaaay too long to write up. [size="1"]Liam waved gesticulated wildly as he tried to come to terms with what Matt was saying. ?What do you mean we?re only allowed pistols?? Liam said fiercely. Matt looked up at him and replied calmly, ?you?re only allowed to carry small side arms owing to a certain subtlety required by this mission. Besides, your side arm is more of a hand cannon than a pistol, why are you complaining?? Liam frowned. ?Because at Griffon we were only allowed pistols, and look how long that dragged out for!? ?Diddums.? Matt said simply. ?If you need backup, all of your normal gear and equipment will be with the techies. They?ll only be two hundred metres up the road. If anything goes wrong you can send someone over.? ?I don?t like it.? ?You never do. Tell the others and throw your main gear in with Callum and his crew.? Liam straightened up and huffed before turning and leaving the room. He could tell Matt was grinning at him as he left, amused at his frustration. They had to leave in the morning, but because of the distinct lack of windows, Liam had no idea what time it actually was. He decided that he should actually pack and then search for his watch or a clock or something? Somehow he ended up passing the breakroom, and decided not to enter upon hearing the conversation coming from inside. He flitted past the door, rather than stopping on the threshold or drawing attention to himself. The conversation cooled as he kept on walking. He counted for a couple seconds and then walked past the doorway again, back towards the dormitories. ?Where?s my stuff?where is it?where?? He muttered as he walked past each room. He spotted a pile of familiar luggage sitting outside the door to the Russian?s rooml ?Well. Someone has at least moved on.? The door opened with an ominous creak, and Liam simply threw his luggage onto the bed, and the luggage obliged by bouncing off it onto the floor. ?Excuse me sir?? A crisp and polite voice asked behind Liam. It was certainly one that expected a prompt, polite, response. Surprisingly, Liam felt obliged to reply politely. ?Yes? How can I help you?? He asked as he turned on the spot. An older gentleman, about six feet in height, smiled at Liam, stretching his toothbrush moustache. Everything about him screamed ?wealth? and ?British imperialism.? ?I am here about your business suit, young man. I believe you would be looking for a bulletproof lining?? The old tailer looked Liam up and down and grabbed him by the shoulders to spin him around on the spot. ?Yes, typical body shape. I may not even have to alter a suit for you.? An assistant appeared and handed over a tape measure. ?Excellent, yes. Right, would black be your preferred colour?? The tailor asked quickly, and then answered his own question before Liam had the chance to open his mouth. ?Yes, of course it is. It will have to be because I do not have the time for navy today. Good day to you sir. If it doesn?t fit, which I?m sure it will, just page me in the building.? The tailor snapped his fingers and his assistant drew up a rack of suits, handing the appropriate one to him. The tailor checked it and handed to Liam. ?I?m sure you?ll find everything in order, sir. There are a few minor details that you will need to revise, but they?re written on a little card which is located on the inside breast pocket.? Liam, quite bemused, took the suit and smiled back in a confused sort of way. ?Good day to you sir.? The tailor nodded slightly and continued up the hallway with his attendant following close behind. Liam watched him walk up the hall before going back into his new room and closing the door behind himself. A few minutes later he was dressed in the suit, walking around and checking out his movement restrictions. He was surprised to find that there was a minimum resistance and it was quite comfortable. The Kevlar inner lining was only intended for low calibre bullets, allowed the casual observer to assume that the suit was merely well starched. ?Minor details, minor details. Where?s the card?? He muttered to himself. Liam fished out the piece of paper. [i]?Do not machine wash. Do not tumble dry. Do not iron. Do not under any circumstances dry clean. Use private tailors only for the care of this suit.?[/i] Liam flipped the card over. ?That?s all?? He said, a little underwhelmed. ?I was half expecting hidden knives or something?? He looked in the mirror. It really was a nice business suit? [/size]

[size="1"][b]elfpirate[/b] I REALLY want to emmigrate to Australia, and I am quite determined to become a chopper pilot... but I don't know where to go for info... Well it sounds like you need to email [b]Bismarck[/b], he knows all of that stuff and has his own light aircraft licence. Your best bet for non-commercial helicopter coolness would have to be the armed services. Otherwise, you may just have to look up private training businesses. So that makes what, two possible Australian immigrants? ^_~[/size]

[size="1"][b]Attimus331[/b] It'd be nice if it was, but, it's not. The average science course over here [depending on how well recognised a Uni is] is between AU$7000 and AU$9000. ...per [b]semester[/b]. Luckily enough for us, the government has organised a program called [b]HECS[/b], which covers your first seven years of University. Basically you don't pay back any fees until you are earning AU$35000+, which is excellent as it allows us home leavers to focus our money on paying for rent, textbooks and the like. [b]Perknup[/b] Studying, yeah. That's going to be the hardest bit. I'll probably earn too little to go out and have fun, so I'll stay home and study....lol. I won't have the internet unless I'm on campus, so there goes the biggest drain of my time. It also means no myo for me or the people who like to read my drivel. [b]M.Ali[/b] Art college, I was seriously considering doing a Bachelor of Arts degree, specialising in Archaeology. I have a couple mates that have chosen Art [as in, actual art doing] as their 'thing.' I'd have done it too, but I like the idea of being able to eat. It must be an American thing to leave state, I have no inclination to do so. I'm just happy to move to the capital. It probably doesn't hurt that Australia's states are quite large by comparison, and quite few in number. But hey, if the [b]Juu[/b] wants to come to Australia, she can come. My parents are going to lend out the spare room [not mine, oddly enough] to an overseas student, through USQ I believe, to pay for my boarding fees. Y'never know, you might end up being my little sis after all, lol. Actually, you don't want to go to USQ. If you're coming to Queensland, you'll want to go to Brisbane, where there's [b]UQ[/b], [b]QUT[/b] and [b]Griffith[/b] (and another that escapes me). But anyhow, that's for your congratulations! ^_^[/size]

[size="1"]For those of you who have completed your secondary education, the question of furthering your education has been a very big one. For those of you who reside in Queensland, Australia, you've probably been hanging around the QTAC site to see whether or not you're worthy of the universities Queensland has to offer. Anyhow, cutting to the chase. The offers were released an hour or so ago, and I have discovered that my second preference has been accepted. Queensland University of Technology has offered me a [b]Bachelor of Biomedical Science[/b] course. Guess what? I'm moving to Brisbane and becoming independent. It's a bittersweet moment, but mainly sweet. Anyone else out there been accepted into their Universities/Colleges? [I'm too excited for my own good. lol ^_^;][/size]

[size="1"]A hairy arm was hanging out the window of the taxi as Liam and Rae stepped towards it. Liam helped her along, and she didn?t protest, as she knew Liam wouldn?t hear of it. ?Afternoon guv.? The taxi driver tapped the tip of his cap as Liam opened the rear door of the taxi for Rae. Liam nodded in return and closed the door, walking around the other side of the vehicle. The SYF never missed a trick; they would have known to send out the appropriate taxi as soon as Rae left the building. ?Rough night love?? The cockney driver asked, looking up into the rear vision mirror. Rae grimaced as the bruise touched the headrest. ?You could say that.? The driver smiled and looked back at the road. ?The powers that be are in a bit of a fizzle over this Liam, the SYF is pretty concerned about you running around like this.? The driver said over his shoulder. Rae, puzzled at first and still groggy from her injuries, almost had kittens at the driver?s words. Liam forgot that Rae didn?t know the driver and put a hand on her knee and grinned to reassure her. Rae settled back, still suspicious, but quickly dozed off again. ?Like I was sayin? guv,? the driver continued, ?you can?t keep running around like this. You ain?t got much left, have you?? ?Just under two weeks.? Liam replied. ?Right. Well, just keep your head down.? Liam curled his lips slightly at the thought of being unobtrusive. ?What?s your name?? he asked of the cockney driver. ?Kevin.? Liam smiled, he knew a lie when he heard one, but it was protocol after all. Agents never knew their associate?s names. He still hadn?t figured out why all of his associates were allowed to know [I]his[/I] name. ?So Kevin, where?s the meeting?? ?Back at the hostel, but traffic around there is nuts. The Singapore rescue services have appropriated the road out front as their main thoroughfare. We?ll have to go underground.? As he spoke, Kevin indicated and drove the taxi down into a parking lot. ?Tunnels?? Liam asked. ?Yup.? Kevin said. In five minutes the taxi had made its way across town undetected and had managed to park in the SYF hidden underground parking lot. Liam nudged Rae awake and helped her out of the car. ?Good luck!? Kevin called out as he drove back the way they had came, one arm waving out the window. Liam shook his head slowly. All of the secrecy and empty encouragement used to just slide right off him, but now, as he watched the wall close shut, he realised how much it aggravated him. ?C?mon,? he said to Rae, not unkindly. ?Give it a rest,? Rae said, brushing him aside. ?I can walk just fine.? Rae hobbled at first, but gradually picked up the pace, quickly regaining her old stride. Liam knew it?d be costing her, but Rae obviously didn?t want to be seen as being weak and unable to go on the mission. Another pang of guilt accosted Liam?s heart at the thought of what he had done, but he quashed it. Ryan and Eve were just waiting inside the building, leaning casually against the wall, outside the airlock and blast doors. Rae grinned and waved at them through the bulletproof glass as the computer checked their I.D. Liam merely gave them a curt nod and put his luggage through the machine. The red light above their heads switched from red to amber, signalling that security inside the building were allowed to open the doors. Eve hit the switch and Ryan tossed Liam his bags as he stepped over the threshold. ?We?re just upstairs in the first conference room.? Ryan said, nodding curtly at Liam. ?You?re just in time so we might want to hurry.? Liam returned the nod lazily and walked up the steps, ignoring Ryan and Eve as they fell into step behind him, eager to get the details out of Rae. Social things weren?t his area, and things hadn?t seemed to change?but at least he and Rae were square again. The door was already open as he arrived. Matt was seated behind his laptop, obviously playing something to pass the time. The projector was set up, but displaying a blue screen instead of the SYF logo for the month. Zharrar and Bradley were seated a couple of chairs up from Matt, so Liam sat opposite them, too lazy to walk and hide up at the back of the room. He put his luggage on the table, unzipped it, and pulled out his laptop from its pouch. The bag was put back down on the floor and Liam had just turned it on as Rae and the others came inside. She walked towards Liam and touched his shoulder, pulling out the chair that was next to him. She was about to sit down as the Commander and Callum stepped into the room. Callum stepped forward and grinned at Rae, holding his arms out. Rae put the chair back in and hurried over, hugging him around the waist. Liam?s head hadn?t moved, nor had he shown any interest in what was going on. Ryan took her seat and Liam could have hit him for it. Rae and Callum took the empty seats next to Matt, and Rae gave a quick apologetic look to Liam. He raised an eyebrow in return. ?Good afternoon,? said the Commander in his usual gruff manner. ?We are pleased to announce that Ryan?s stay with us will be extended for another mission and he has gladly accepted his original position in the SYF. We?re sure it?s hard for him to be leaving his prestigious position in the Delta force, but it will still be there for him when he returns.? Liam tilted his head to Ryan and whispered, ?it must be hard for you to leave hardcore behind and take a vacation with us.? ?Of course, but at least on vacations I get to choose my own guns.? Liam smiled and pointed his ears back at the Commander. ?We have also finally agreed on an unit insignia,? the Commander continued, proudly. ?This will be your own team?s mark; it?s what?s going to set you apart from the rest. It isn?t the main symbol for the SYF, but it is yours.? An image took up the screen. There, on a square, split diagonally, of two shades of grey, was a bunch of five arrows tied by a ribbon with a word in Latin written underneath. Above, in a less than orthodox font, were the three letters ?SYF.? [center][IMG]http://syf.250free.com/syf.jpg[/IMG] [/center] Liam had to admit, it was impressive. It?d be nice to wear something other than a black patch on his camouflage gear when he was at home. It?d be a black patch on a mission for identity reasons, but it was the thought that counted. Something about the arrows was niggling at him, there were five there, but there had always been more than five on the team. It wasn?t that, it was something else, he couldn?t quite remember. It hit him. [I]?You nasty bastards??[/I] He thought as he realised. ?Those of you familiar with Scottish family crests will recognise the symbol of the five arrows bound by a ribbon. This is the traditional clan crest of the Cameron clan, and the committee decided it was appropriate, owing to the involvement and contribution given to the SYF by the Cameron family.? Liam was livid. The last thing he wanted from the SYF was an attempt at a peace offering. What was the old man trying to say? ?Sorry your parents are dead...and about the whole making you kill your sister thing, here! Have a badge!? Liam?s gaze at the Commander spoke volumes and could have frozen continents. If the Commander had noticed, he didn?t let on. Rae attempted to break the quick silence by asking, ?what does the line in Latin say?? ?Paedagogus.? The Commander replied simply. ?It?s a Latin word that refers to a servant that accompanied the children back and forth between school. The servant was generally only just older than the children themselves and was given the task of protecting the children at all costs. The committee felt it most appropriate.? There were a few nods in the group and even Liam smiled slightly, he had to learn to let things go, so he felt that he might as well start now. ?Now that the minor details have been taken care of,? the Commander said, ?your next mission is going to be a repeat of Gryphon College mission, but hopefully not a repeat of the Gryphon College [I]incident[/I].? ?Where are we going?? Ryan asked, not wanting to hear another tirade about Gryphon College and the rest of the team were silently grateful. ?Brunei.? The Commander paused, letting the surprise ripple through the group. The thought of an attack in the golden Sultan?s kingdom was, if not shocking, certainly disarming. The situation would certainly be dire if someone was willing enough to attack the most benevolent and, more importantly, west-friendly Sultan in the Arab emirates. ?The Mossad, acting for the Sultan and the CIA, have discovered several rumours of an attack on the international college there in Brunei. Apparently there is a small, now no longer secret, graduation ceremony for the third class of students of the American TITANS program. ?The TITANS program, or Theoretical Institute for Thermonuclear and Nuclear Studies, is one of the most exclusive educational institutions in the world. In fact, it is the only university in which you can get a degree in thermonuclear weapons. ?It?s a three year course and the qualifications necessary to get in are not relevant. The important detail you should know is that these soon to be graduated students are of vital importance to the United States and possibly world security.? The Commander stopped there to let the details sink in; Matt flashed a few slides up of the facility and of the hotel where the students would be celebrating. ?The reason why these people are important to the US is that, while they have 10,000 nuclear weapons, they do not know how many are actually active, let alone useable. The average nuclear weapon has a lifetime of ten years, yet the average age of the US nuclear arms is twenty years. ?This wouldn?t be problem if there was documentation of weapons construction and scientists to build them, but most of America?s nuclear engineers are either dead or retired. Even with this new class of graduates included, by the year 2014 America will have ten times more NASA astronauts than nuclear weapons designers.? Liam was grinning, the situation was almost laughable. ?So,? he said, still grinning. ?What were the scientists thinking? [I]Oh, I should write some of this down but I?m too lazy and making stuff explode is too much fun to put aside?[/I]? Liam could tell that there were a few grins around him. ?The Cold War posed too much of a threat to allow any of this knowledge to be written down. At the time the scientists preferred to keep the knowledge to themselves rather than bother with security clearance.? The Commander shot a warning glance at Liam as he continued, ?it is only just in the last few years that the American government have realised the lack of practical and theoretical nuclear knowledge. ?As I was saying, this mission is vital for our interests. If these graduates get into the hands of an enemy force, the consequences could be disastrous.? ?Then why the hell put them in Brunei?? Liam said bluntly. ?Why not just lock them away somewhere safe in the states?? ?The class is constantly moved around the world, they only stay in one place a week at a time, all the while working on their courses. They are students from all over the world, this is, in fact, the first time TITANS have opened their doors to international students. When they?ve graduated they will return to America to work for five years before returning home.? ?Sounds bloody stupid to me?? Liam muttered, none too quietly. The Commander ignored him. ?You will be sent as IT graduates who are celebrating alongside the TITANS graduates and several other students of different institutes.? ?Hey wait,? Bradley said, ?won?t we stand out a little? I mean, the TITANS are going to be, well, [I]old[/I]. At least in their thirties. A bunch of teenagers are going to be a little obvious.? The Commander grinned. ?You?re wrong there. These students are, as you can see, are your age.? Matt flashed the graduate?s photos up on the screen, the oldest were 25 at the most, it was completely unbelievable. ?These students have received the highest accolades of their generation, each have been commended for their highly intelligent minds and have been accelerated through course after course. Only one student is American, the other ten are from England, Germany and France.? Liam winced; this was going to get really complicated, really quickly. He just knew it. ?You will pack and board the bus tomorrow morning, dressed in business attire. You will be taking the Sultan?s private jet and will be flying as his esteemed guests. If anyone asks, it is because you have accepted to upgrade his country?s networks and bring all of his subjects homes into a 256k connection.? The Commander?s tone was flat, informative. To him, this was a minor detail. ?All of this, of course, will be happening. Our technicians, headed here by Callum, will be setting up the network on your behalf. If the rumour is just a rumour, you will be there for only the few hours of the graduation and will dust off safely and accompany the graduates to America. Good luck.? The last photo appeared, along with the long list of details. Liam saw it and blanched, he knew that face, but it was completely unbelievable. The other members were talking amongst themselves and didn?t notice the face. Matt closed down the lightpro before Liam could get Rae?s attention. He shook his head, he must have just imagined it? [/size]