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Old 06-03-2018, 02:43 PM
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Special Issue #0: Project Silver Fox

The Council
Somewhere in London, Britain
October 28th, 1939

The tension in the air was palpable. Six individuals sit on either side of a white table, it and the chairs they sit upon the only furnishings in the concrete room. Upon the desk were three Alchemical lights used as lanterns, but as bright as a florescent light bulb. They resemble larger, metal & glass glowsticks.glow rods, spaced to light the interior. Also upon the table rests several documents, papers, and notes, all surrounding a large map of Europe with several markings on it. The men and women sit in absolute silence, content to simply stare at their opposite. They wait because, while currently they are six, they are supposed to be seven.

Just when the silence seems to be reaching a tipping point, the iron door swings open, and another enters. He is younger than most of the others, with darker, olive skin that suggests a Native American ancestry. His black hair is thick and long, framing his clean shaven face. His eyes are a dark brown, and the way they constantly dart around seem to suggest nervousness. Yet the rest of his broad shouldered frame seems to exude confidence. "Sorry I'm late," the man says as he takes his seat, "The American ship arrived nearly an hour late."

"Typical Americans," a small woman in her mid thirties grunts in a faint French accent. She leans forward in her chair in an annoyed slump, daintily brushing aside from her face long hair so light a shade of blond, it is nearly white. Her pale blue eyes scan the room, looking for signs of agreement among her peers, and she places both alabaster white hands on the table as if about to push herself up. She remains seated, however, her white garments hanging loosely over her thin frame. "Should have known they wouldn't take this war seriously. After all, its not like Germany threatens their borders."

An older man on her right turns towards her with ebony eyes and a raised eyebrow. Speaking with a strong British accent, he scoffs, "I wouldn't be so quick to judge, Madame Petit, given how much cajoling we needed to do in order to get your organization involved. Now lets see what Mr. Tsosie has brought us today, hmm?"

Nodding with approval, Mr. Tsosie smiles. "Thank you general Montgomery. As you know, while America has not yet officially joined the war effort, they have agreed to commit a few specialists. Off the books of course. They have labeled this group Project Silver Fox, and assured me that these individuals are among their most gifted."

He begins to pace, one hand held behind his back, the other held in front for emphasis. "The stated goal of Project Silver Fox is to assemble a team of elite operatives to handle threats conventional warfare could not. A few members of the Allies have also offered contributions to this project, and today we have the task of picking which members we want to include on this task force. To that end," He sticks one hand into his heavy jacket and removes several thick files. "I have prepared a full dossier on each of our candidates, and made each of you a copy to peruse."

He pauses his speech for a moment to walk around the table, personally handing each member at the table one of the seven envelopes. Once finished, he returns to to his seat. "And now, unless you have any questions, I would like to start to day by looking at our fir-"

"Actually, I have one," A bespectacled man interrupts, slightly lifting one overweight hand, "This is the same task force that will be handling Operation Under-dressed, correct?" The room suddenly goes silent as six pairs of eyes bore into the large, well dressed man. To his credit, he seems to immediately realize his mistake, and lowers his gaze to the ground, small balls of sweat rolling off his forehead.

"Yes Doctor Mansen, that is correct," Mr. Tsosie replies coolly, "However, I feel the need to remind the council that Operation Under-dressed, and all its components, are still on a need to know basis. I would also like to remind the council that the selected members of Project Silver Fox do NOT need to know about future operations, especially not ones that haven't been cleared with HQ yet. Do we have an agreement?" The table gives a faint murmur of consent, and Mr. Tsosie nods. "Good. Now, as I was saying, if everyone could please open their envelopes to the first page..."

 


 


 


 


 


 


 


 


 


 


 


 


 


 


 


 


 


 


 


Mr. Tsosie gently taps the bottom of his folder onto the table to square out the pages before closing it and placing it upon the table. "And that concludes our meeting today. Almost twenty candidates to choose from. We will reconvene this time tomorrow to decide which agents will represent us in the field. Until then, may the dawn always break. Goodnight."

As the rest of the room shuffles out, Mr. Tsosie stands by the door, shaking the hand of each member as they head out, until only Mr. Tsosie and two others remain. He faces the first, the Chinese woman who spoke up earlier, and lowers his head respectfully. "Thank you, Diao Chan, for speaking up when you did. I know you do not like to get involved, but-"

"It was no trouble, Mr. Tsosie," she interrupts, mirroring Mr. Tsosies lowered head. "After all, you did me a much greater favor agreeing to bring him on in the first place. The emperor will be pleased"

Mr. Tsosie looks up, a hopeful expression dancing across his face. "Then does that mean-"

"Yes," Diao Chan interrupts, "the Chinese empire, henceforth, shall consider itself a member of your Allies. You shall have the full might of our military to dispense against the Axis."

"And, the other thing?" Mr. Tsosie continues, hesitantly.

"You shall have what you desire," Diao Chan confirms, "the moment my husband has the same. Now, if you'll excuse me, it is a long way back to home, and I have much to report. I trust that you will know how to vote in my stead?" Mr. Tsosie nods, and she walks out haughtily.

Finally, Mr. Tsosie turns towards the last person in the room. Before he can even open his mouth, she raises a hand. "Don't. I have no interest in your flowery rhetoric or formal greetings. You know there's only one reason I'm here."

Mr. Tsosie straightens out. "Very well. I assume then that our meeting achieved those reasons?"

The woman does not immediately respond. "Yes, I suppose it did. You bring me what my father wants, and he'll deliver the artifact. I hope for your sake you know what you're doing with it though. Atlantis probably buried it for a reason."

"Duly noted, Mariana Dracula," Mr. Tsosie nods, "Give your father my regards."


 


 


 


 


 


 

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Last edited by He Who Knocks; 06-19-2018 at 02:28 AM.
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