Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Core Nova: During Memories ❯ Chapter 2 Republic Restart. The Finish Of The Weapon ( Chapter 2 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

He saw that look on her eyes, and he knew what was coming.
“Why?”
“Since it’s all due to the ‘Core’ ” Said 3rd secretary of Defense Nashen Dard, as he was fixing the heavyly ironed tie around his neck. He, along with Jessica, the new employee of the “Pentagon Fix”-a hidden group area under the official white house-was heading across the lightly guarded hall, discussing an important topic in favor.
“Every 18th of December, all of the world leaders-as some would call the United Nations,-send in their negotiators, each representing one of the seven ‘important areas’: America, of course, Africa, Austlaila, Canada, Asia, Mexico, and Europe, ” Nashen nodded at a nearby guard after reaching the end of the hallway, “ to report to us the news on their turf, trade valued information, report of any sightings of Wanted threats, and so on. ”
Once he flashed is Identification to the soldier, the door was opened, granting them access to the M.A.E ( Meeting and Exchange ) Room. It was a large, luminescent area, having a freshly painted white wall, reflecting overhead light. The room was empty, because the two was early to the meeting, and only a long, black marble table was present, surrounded by polished pearl chairs, enough to seat over 12 men. If either of the workers was to look above, they would notice the projector on the ceiling, playing an image, in clear format resolution, of a peculiar ensignia, with no familiar design.
The symbol was drawn on a white circular background, in black markings which looked like a small circle in the middle of two objects: under it a flipped triangle with a vertical slash stood there, as above the circle, a slightly “ribbon-like” sketch was drawn, and directly from the through the circle was a virtical slash. It was nothing like the other insignias. Not like Chinese letters. Not like the Arsenist symbol. Nothing.
But secretary of defense Nashen and Jessica didn’t notice the symbol yet, for they still busy with the conversation at hand.
“But still, sir.” Said Jessica, as a nearby seat was now accommodating to her weight while she crossed her left leg over the other. “Why…THEM?” It took awhile for the secretary to rephrase the question, but by the worried tone in the employee’s voice, Nashen understood what she meant. , he thought to himself. . Oddly enough the best answer he had come up with is:
“They made IT, didn’t they? Not like we got a choice but to have 'them' here."
His younger worker pouted immediately at the non-straight answer, something he was familiar with. But in the depths of his political mind, something was still bothering him…
“Sir…” a male Asian voice came through, in a slightly nervous tone, as if not sure on something. “is this the board meeting we were…to, uh…”
Another person, slightly farther away then the newcomer, spike in an outraged Chinese language to the other. The first person jerked back nervously, replying to the voice respectfully. After some time, the first man moved out of the way as another, beefier Asian stepped into the room, the other person following him. Nashen realized that the shy one was the translator. And just as soon as those two walked, by the door, more people came in, each accompanied by a foreign, English-speaking translator. All were either suck-ups to their leader of new workers, or scared shit out of being fired.
Jessica stood up immediately from the start, eagerly introducing herself to the others, as Nashen remained in his seat, nodding to a few world leaders who happened to glance in his direction, a stern expression covering his features. It was a sign to the powerful people that, even though the woman in front of them introducing herself was indeed a newly hired secretary, she was somone who could be trusted not to speak of anything that went on in the room, either verbally, mentally, and hopefully not physically.
The entire group was silent, as tense as the start of a world champion match. Stares was traded. Small whispers were exchanged. But no one started a conversation. The reason was simple: If anyone was to speak first, most of the people would believe the person had some status in dangerous and econic problems. In other words, anyone who speaks first, speaks as if they have the most important topic ever, and ends up earning the most attention. And no one wants to stand out at the pentagon Fix, except…

“Well, ain’t this a mighty fine way of being lively!”

Them…

The 22...

…ST22...
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The voice came from the commander-in-chief, President Sena.
He was a young American, only recently passing the age of 24. But for a president, he was tall, very ripped and toned (but not monstrous, more like an animated super hero.), and handsome. He had teenage-like features, unwrinkled, with a short, fuzzy beard and a natural, Caucasian face. As some would suspect, a leader should wear business-style clothes, like a suit and tie, with elegant black shoes and two body guards, for starts, right? Well Sena outright obliterated that concept as he was fashioned with a long white, black trimmed trench coat and gray jeans, which were odiously wrapped with blue chains around the legs, while sporting heavy, punk like boots, spray painted white. As for a shirt, he wore none, and his trench coat was open, exposing his firmly packed upper body. On the right ear, a Red Bead Phono, a clip style phone from Bead Corps was attached, possibly used for cell conversation with active bodyguards near him, which, on that subject, each looked as…different…as the other set of organic people that we hired to defend their world leaders.
They were covered In an occult like garment, those two bodyguards who were behind the young president: a large, near dragging costume that was dark violent with a ocean blue silk trim. Over their faces was a hooded cape, and just like the name indicates, it was a long, purple-blue trim, as well-cape that surpassed the length of the trench coat underneath, and was part hood, as well, to cloak the two bodyguards physical identities. Instead of a normal black shoes, they wore indigo boots; and instead of normal suits, the trench coat was long-sleeved, covering the hands of the two men, both costumes were overall purple with light blue trim. The chest area was covered with a tight-fitting bodice, as well as the lower abdomen, where the odd symbol was enclosed in cyan blue, and held tight by a blue sash…
“Ya' seem to like da' look on my guards here, mista' Dashen!” President Sena whispered in the secretary’s ear. The man jumped, not because Sena was the president, but just because he didn’t know that he was behind him…
“Y-yes, Mr. President.” Dashen muttered.
“Good, now don’t look at em! They don’t like a be stared at!”
“Mr. Sena,” boomed Mister Zanash, leader of the Europe areas. “If you don’t mind, we have tight agendas.” A large, most likely thick and expensive cigar was being burned away in his mouth.” So you should at least START coming on time.” A large fog of smoke trailed from his tongue, before he added, “young president.”
Sena just arched his head at Zanash, a cocky smirk coming across his face, walked way from Dashen and took a seat at the far end of the lengthy table which was, ironically, in front of the projection of the odd symbol on the wall.
“Now then,” spoke Sena as he rested his feet on the dark table, getting disapproving stares from his political partners. Though the president acted clueless, he knew Jessica was eyeing him sweetly. “Let’s get yapp’n, shall we?”
You’re being truly arrogant, Zhu Lu Bei!” Argued Australian Ruler, Gage, his fist repetitively hitting the table in anger. Zhu, leader of Chinese Territory, did not reply. That pisses Gage, which is truly pronounced ( G-ah-gay ), even further. The two was negotiating on water level arrangements, a tradition on who should give more water to their lands.
But Zhu built a plan: Using the water dams in Australia, he would lower the pressure, causing a “small” drop in availability for its Australians. Though it DID look like Zhu Lu Bei was asking to make the citizens suffer while china has an overload of nourishment due to the trade, he wanted Gage to know that more people will want more water, meaning an increase in the profit for him if his people were able to keep up with his commands…
But Gage couldn’t see the good in that. That was just how he is, blind, dumb, and awfully stupid-commenting on the obvious. And Zhu knew how to manipulate that into effect. After all, Zhu Lu Bei was one the best strategist known to man.
“If you dislike your opportunity for increased income and lower taxes, we can always open that original Dam, the one that broke on the FIRST try of it’s use…
After the mention of the Dam that failed to hold at least one ton of salt water, Gage held the agreement.
“So,” spoke America’s commander-in-chief Sena, gesturing to his two ‘uncommon’ bodyguards to come hither. “Now we all called off our boring little chit-chat,” he henced the word ‘boring’ to one of the world leaders, “We can reach the TRUE topic in hand.”
The moment President Sena said the next two words, the cloaked beings whispered in sync, their tones flowing through like a gentle ecstasy:
“GLORIA SENPENTRA…..”
Jessica, confused for the moment, repeated the word softly, liking how it sounds. Gloria…Senpentra…They had a beautiful ring to them. she questioned herself.
“Gloria Senpentra: the two words that blessed my ears when I and the entire United States Defensive Tacticians, or U.S.D.T, came up with a VERY special idea.” Said Sena.
“And I mean,” The two silent guards rolled down a projector screen that was placed over the original screen in the meeting room.
“VEEEERRRRYYY SPECIAL!” With a snap of his fingers, Sena pointed at one of his guards, a slim, tall one by the looks of him, and directed the person to dim the lights. That was when Dashen And Jessica noticed something vital:
It was a Female.
The moment she turned to our direction, part of the trench coat opened, revealing a purple skirt that barely covered the strong, attractive legs she had. If one was to look even closer, they would have seen that his woman had on thigh-length, black, 5 inch high heels. Heels wasn’t common in the govern-
The person immediately covered herself, giving us a foul glare; it was obvious she had on that look under the hood that covered her features…
The lights was off, and the girl went back to her original spot without a word, as Sena began to speak:
“In the year 1928, The U.S. Defense HQ has been massively ashamed of how our military warfare-NOT counting the soldiers- has become nothing more than a joke to the advancing technology of other enemy countries. While we were struggling to produce powerful terrain Vehicles, our poor soldiers have been demolished by German Tiger tanks! While we designed aircraft to drop nukes upon your lands, leader Zhu Lu Bei,” The president gestured to the Asian ruler, who nodded. “Our plans were slapped back an our faces by Japanese aircraft that hit- literally -our war zones!”
“And speaking of ‘plans‘!!!” Sena got up at this moment, pulling out a …GOLD 7mm Custom hand gun, a special weapon of his that was treasured and passed down by his relatives, from father to son and so on. Toying with the projectile, he walked around the room slowly, his heavy punk boots tapping the pearl floor loudly, with the fact that it distracted most of the world leaders. The President continued,
“Plans! Ha! The closet thing our tactics had to be when we made desperate measures-to experiment on willing, and sometimes unwilling, soldiers for enhancement back in the 60’s! and NOW look: We have to make excuses to a couple of million over-protective mothers about why we had to keep sending soldiers on the job, when they were actually dead from poisoning…”
“Mr. Sena-” Zanash started to say, though he was soon cut off from one and only.
“BUT!” With a flick of his wrist, the gold gun was spinning in the air flawlessly. “Thanks to the Term, we have made something that ' Insures Victory In All Wars!' ” Once he received the correct end of the gold gun, called Pheracom, Sena did what all the people in this meeting expected him to do: with a quick pull of the trigger, he sent the metal remote from the table in the air, where it became introduced to Sena’s hand.
“Watch and learn, my-soon-to-be investors of…”
Dashen, without even listening ot the rest of the President’s sentence, knew what he was about to see-
Specalist Term 22…
“ You know, she’s been like this ever since we brought her here!”
I just looked at her, wondering if she felt stupid right now. “It’s only been 3 days, Smoky…” I told her.
“Oh…right! Hehe!” she scratched the back of her head.
For a Lilune, she’s not acting so smart. But that was just for now, for I knew she was intelligent beyond US humans.
“You’re one of THEM, too, so you must be going through the same thing…” I did my best not ot be rude, but I only wanted to grab Smoky’s attention, her cute, hazel eyes trained so heavily on the other girl we were talking of.
Her name was Jaida M.P, The M.P. stood for Maida Paida. Yes, the name had some oddity to it, but she said it was her name when Black Petal, a friend of mine, brought her here.
She was so wonderfully exquisite, formed beautifully, as if an angel came and carved her from clay in a perfect art. Jaida was no taller then me, standing a barely six feet, her body amazingly attractive and fit, all parts of her shape automatically loved. Her skin had such a delicate, brown tone, creamy in shape and texture, and beautifully in every way. Jaidas’ hair was very long, completely passing her curving cute bottom, and cinnamon brown in color, which was lighter then her skin complexion, adding an unique taste to her.
Covering her luscious body was a red Asian dress, cotton and tight-fitting, with slits on the insides of the hips, revealing her silky, strong legs, her red combat boots supporting her feet. The Asian dress was worn loosely, so it showed her slender shoulders , and maybe a small amount of her voluptuous flesh.
She (Jaida) was asleep on the large cushions that supported her, parts of her cheeks trying to recover from the tears that had over hydrated them not so long ago. She was crying only a few minutes before.
Yes, crying. Jaida was doing that ever since we brought her here: If she wasn’t crying, the girl was quietly planting all variations of roses, from red, to yellow, even a few white at times. We’ve never got a chance to ask her why, though all of us, those who were living “here” already knew. The plantation was for the person she’s waiting for…
She was waiting for De’Vaughn. We all were waiting…for him…
“Core Nova, a multi-billion dollar project designed to ensure Victory In All Wars.” Started the Introductory movie. The projectory screen showed a revolving symbol, possibly the sign of the project it was talking of. The insignia was glowing in purple on the screen as the voice, female, continued about the subject.
“Created in 1930 by the Security and Defense organization as a turntable against Germany and it’s financial supporters, the Core Nova was a promising feature to U.S. warfare. It’s maker:” The symbol froze, faced front, in place. “The specialist Term.”
“Beyond the skill of the legendary S.E.A.L.’s and more powerful then the force of an entire elite SWAT group, the Specialist Term 22, also known as S.T.22 is the greatest military power formed by the U.S.D.T. Consisting of a grand total of 23 leaders, 22 of them Generals, 1 a Top Leader, S.T. 22 is alwase kept at tip top shape, training furiously to be the top in its' class, if there was anything that could reach its' class.
" The Ranks consist of 5 groups : Soilders, Liutenents, Generals, Occellela, and Top Leader.
"Soilders take up the bottom rank of the power triangle. In the Organisation, they are mostly used as mechanics, footmen, low rank guards, and , in some cases, ' Cannon Fodder '. These soilders represent the amount of power that hold the Specialist Term together, for even though they may not be the most numerous compared to the mass of soilders in the Army, they definatly have the skill to best them. Equal to: S.E.A.L s'.
"Next comes Liutenents, better in skill than a soilder .As the higher ranks, they deal with maintenance, infomation awereness, and battle tacttics, though some Luitnents are better suited for "secret angent" jobs. They take up at least one-tenth of the Organisation, reporting most of the events, normaly the ones that make there way to becoming potentail threats, to the higher ups. At times they can perfom more dangerous tasks then normal Soilders. This can range from assistant millitary combat, ground force, and, though rarely, search and destroy missions. ".
The projetory screen reverted back to the symbol of the S.T. 22 before continuing: " Then comes the important people of the Specialist Term: Generals and G.A 's ( General Apprentinces ), the commanders of the war zones, Leading tacticans and top Body Guards of the goverments ' important people', like senetors, goverment officals, vice-presidents, ect. With extremly difficult training and deeply focused experiments, they are 22 of the best of the best fighters from around the world, the Elite fighters who deal with the most difficult work of the Term, ranging from Search and Rescue, to Search and Destroy. Each General and G.A has his or her own trait that makes the extremly exceptable to achive that rank, and are very difficult people to beat. As a matter of fact, it has been scientificly proven that one General is equall to 278 S.W.A.T members, 164 S.E.A.L.S, and 59 S.T.22 soilders." The biography went into an even deeper explanation:
" Even though they are the least membered rank, they have a reason to be feared, and are the represenitives of the S.T. 22. They ARE the Specialist Term 22, thus they are called the 'Term'. 22 people who have the command over the Army, S.W.A.T, FBI, SEALs', Air Force, CIA, Navy, Special Ops, Marines, Ceabee, Combat Medics, Nuclear Warfare, and other Goverment Tasks.
" As said before, the Term consist of 22 generals, each that has un ranked skill and ability. Some of the Term are given oppritunitys to train people, anyone they consider worthy of their skill, called General Apprentices..."

A few wispered words was passed between the World Leaders, as Senas' smile grew larger and larger. Just imagining the amount of money that the World Leaders was going to invest on the Specailist Term was more than enough to make him piss in his jeans.

'And we have'nt even got to the good stuff, yet.'

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After half of an hour passes, the video soon comes to a close. The lights were back on, and many eyes had to adjust to the bright color of white. But when the blinded visions of many became clear, many of the faces of the govermental world leaders was in shock. And that was just the expression the president wanted.

" Th-this...is...amazing!" Stammered Zanash. " How can we support- " But before he got to finish his sentence...
" In front of you is the all the documents based on the S.T. 22, directly from its creator and sub-partner, The HighWay. If all of you would kindly sign your signature on the marked end of the sheets, all of its' property will be shared with you..."
And they immediatly did, without any hesitation whatsoever. One of the two hooded figures the was assigned to be around President Sena, picked up each signed document and passed it to him. He looked over the papers, checking that each one was signed, and looked upon the world leaders with, once agian, the largest smile ever seen on his face. " Congrats on your hard work and commitment to the S.T.22..."
Applause echoed through th hands of the goverment leaders...
" ...and thank you for signing your life away. "
...the applause ceasesed.

Then all he did was snap his fingers twice.

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Please review so I can get some feedback on weither or not you want me to continue, because i'm really starting to get worried...