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Journal 5/2 - After the Storm
May. 3rd, 2015 12:47 pmEveryone needs time on their own. Florida shouldn't be an exception. He wanted time so I'm giving it. Most of my gear was stashed in the closet of the room I stayed in. I didn't need to draw attention to myself while out. My M6C was left somewhere. ...the kitchen? Nah. The desk. That's it.
I decided to hit Smithson's and see what kind of customs they could offer. My status as Spectre and Louisiana wasn't going to end well for the people in my life at this rate. I wanted something that was tough but not the Commando. To at least wear when not working. Suggested this one design meant to take hits and streamlined.
Venator it's called. It has the minimum exposed visor that I'm used to. Yet it's more angular and intimidating than my merc build. Maine would approve of that part. Paint job has more blue and grey than black. The rest of the mods were prioritized tracking and visor modes in case trouble did come. Which it will. It always does. ...shouldn't wear it when I finally get back though. Just show it.
Control did call. They were...displeased to put it short. I got orders to clean up the mess in return for the "clarification" I provided regarding the contract. So after getting the helmet, I went to work. Body disposal isn't fun. Part of the job though. Especially in the work of making people disappear. However someone had been there.
Bodies moved about. Foot prints in the blood. Two sets. That wasn't a thrilling detail to find. Especially with how Control tends to work. That or they were enemies of Control. Which won't make things better. Ackerson's helmet was off. Audio storage had been rummaged through. Someone knew Spectre, me, had been there. They knew about Control. They knew of what Florida went through.
For now, I'll stay in Gulch. Taking refuge in that safe house. Again. Protection of family mattered. It'll at least keep me focused. Away from the thought of losing once more. I don't want those attacks to come back. Panic and fear won't do Florida any good.
I decided to hit Smithson's and see what kind of customs they could offer. My status as Spectre and Louisiana wasn't going to end well for the people in my life at this rate. I wanted something that was tough but not the Commando. To at least wear when not working. Suggested this one design meant to take hits and streamlined.
Venator it's called. It has the minimum exposed visor that I'm used to. Yet it's more angular and intimidating than my merc build. Maine would approve of that part. Paint job has more blue and grey than black. The rest of the mods were prioritized tracking and visor modes in case trouble did come. Which it will. It always does. ...shouldn't wear it when I finally get back though. Just show it.
Control did call. They were...displeased to put it short. I got orders to clean up the mess in return for the "clarification" I provided regarding the contract. So after getting the helmet, I went to work. Body disposal isn't fun. Part of the job though. Especially in the work of making people disappear. However someone had been there.
Bodies moved about. Foot prints in the blood. Two sets. That wasn't a thrilling detail to find. Especially with how Control tends to work. That or they were enemies of Control. Which won't make things better. Ackerson's helmet was off. Audio storage had been rummaged through. Someone knew Spectre, me, had been there. They knew about Control. They knew of what Florida went through.
For now, I'll stay in Gulch. Taking refuge in that safe house. Again. Protection of family mattered. It'll at least keep me focused. Away from the thought of losing once more. I don't want those attacks to come back. Panic and fear won't do Florida any good.
