[DarwinMorgan]

“I’m calling it… time of death, 12:57 AM.”

Those were the last words Sargeant Colin Gryffth could remember. This was the third one this month, although in recent days, he had been declared deceased more times than he could count. This was of course according officially classified documents that, for all intents and purposes, didn’t exist. He couldn’t remember anything more than mere moments before his death. As a man, he was alive as any other breathing being, but to the world, Sgt. Colin Gryffth of Her Majesty’s Royal Navy had officially become a casualty of war on April 29th, 2006. His killer? A young boy, no more than twelve.

This he could remember. It had haunted him like a nightmare for more than a year.

During a routine night patrol, our unit came upon a group of children playing. As is procedure, we attempted to escort the children back to their homes for curfew was in effect. As the children scattered into the darkness, the unit pursued them. Acting against orders, I split off from the unit and followed the shadow of a boy into an alley. It was there that I confronted the boy, and when I asked for his name, he drew a pistol. In the blink of an eye, a muzzle flash ignited the darkness, but no noise. Instantly, a searing pain was burning through my chest. I’d been shot. So much for the protective body armor that had been recalled by the military six times in the last three months. Before the smoke was clear from the barrel, the boy was gone. He retreated back into the night, and I was left there alone, my body breathing its dying breath.

He would awaken on a table in a morgue a day later, unable to account for how he got there, or why he was still alive for that matter. The wound that had lead to his death, was now no more than a scar.

Since that day, Sgt. Colin Gryffth, the man, ceased to be. Unofficially however, the military, following a grueling interrogation, decided that the soldiers talents could be put to good use, he had not died in vain. His ability allowed him to infiltrate enemy lines, and if killed in action, he would raise from the dead a day or so later, and complete his mission, having the enemy believe they had disposed of him.

But this was the last time Colin Gryffth would die nameless.

As he awoke once more in a sterile environment, as he had several times before. Following his first few awakenings in the morgue, his superiors had set up a staging area where his body could be brought following its transport back to base when a mission was completed. He blinked his eyes, and sat upright, he rubbed his head.

Ugh… it happened again…

Colin’s thoughts were interrupted as the familiar hiss of the chamber depressurizing was heard, and several decorated officers entered the room.

“Hello Sgt. Gryffth, welcome back.”

[DarwinMorgan]

Gryffth managed a salute when his commanding officer greeted him, although he knew the sly bastard just wanted something from him.

“Project: Lazarus is a continued success Sergeant. Since you went flat, the results of your exploits have been broadcast all over the world.”

The Major picked up a remote and turned on the television to a worldwide news broadcast from US President George W. Bush, and British Prime Minister, Gordon Brown.

As was common for his first few minutes after revival, Gryffth’s hearing was weak, but the banner across the screen was clear: OSAMA BIN LADEN CAPTURED BY US/BRITISH FORCES.

Gryffth couldn’t believe what he was seeing. As the footage of military forces transporting Bin Laden played, the ringing in his ears stopped. The Major turned the television off, and turned back to Colin.

“So this is it right?” Colin asked, looking his superior directly in the eye,

“I’m done.”

It was more of a statement than a question. For the better part of the last two years, he had been forced to live a lie. To die, and die again, all in the name of political gain. Six months ago, Project: Lazarus was assigned the under-the-radar task of locating the terrorist leader, and bringing him to justice. It was obvious the true goal of this mission was a last ditch effort by President Bush to erase the blemish of the Iraq war by closing out his presidency on a high note. For Gordon Brown, it would make his career. Following months of preparation, interrogation, and failed attempts, a few of which resulted in Gryffth’s death, a break came late last week. Stress from a repeated use of his ability was putting a drain on him both psychologically, and physically. Originally the Sergeant declined the order, claiming his body wouldn’t be able to take the stress of another resurrection. The military doesn’t take “No” for an answer, especially when it comes to classified programs. Reluctantly, Gryffth had accepted the mission under the condition that it would be his last.

The look in the Major’s eyes seemed to suggest otherwise.

“Well Colin, that’s what we’re here to talk to you about--”

Gryffth cut him off, as his heart rate spiked on the monitor, “NO! No fu**ing deals! You promised me this would be the last time John!”

It seemed more like a plea to a friend than a demand made of a superior officer. The officer’s features softened slightly, and he spoke in a serious, yet somehow apologetic tone.

“Sergeant Gryffth, this mission concerns the Project itself. Because of the fact that you and your “talent” are the entire basis for Lazarus, you would stand to lose just as much as we do, if not more, should you choose to decline.”

Colin furrowed his brow. The mere thought of losing another day to death gave him a shiver, as he blinked he saw the muzzle flash of the young boy’s gun in his mind.

He screamed. As a nurse rushed in to tend to him, he fell back against his pillow. His eyelids fluttering, but he could still hear the Major talking.

“Colin? Colin, its John. Can you hear me?” As they brought his heart rate back to normal, his eyes began to open again. Without waiting for him to respond, the Major continued.

“We haven’t got much time Sergeant.”
The Major tossed a manila folder onto his lap. Opening, Colin saw a photo, and a brief dossier.

“That’s Roarke McKiernan, a 26 year old, Oxford educated British national. Officially, he’s responsible for conspiring to assassinate a UN Ambassador.”

“Yeah, and? What’s it got to do with me this time John?” the Sergeant said coldly.

“It seems that Mr. McKiernan has gained access to some very sensitive information regarding Project: Lazarus. Exposure of these secrets to our enemies could be costly to all involved, even you, Colin. If it were ever to come to light that you were still alive, there’d be a sh*tstorm.”

“So you want me to take this guy out?”

“On the contrary, Sergeant. Mr. McKiernan has a gift. In much the same manner that your “resurrection” is triggered by synapse responses in the brain, Roarke seems to have the capacity to instantaneously translate and understand any language or code. His abilities could be of great use to our cause. We want you to bring Roarke in alive. Well, as alive as you can, I know how you operate.”

“So I’m being sent on a retrieval mission? Come on Sir, I refuse to believe that this man couldn’t simply be picked up by two MPs.”

“Sergeant! This is NOT a negotiation. Your skills in interrogation and retrieval are highly regarded, and your personal stake in this mission requires that you follow this order.”

Colin sighed, and relented,
“Alright, fine. Brief me.”

“Not now. Get yourself together, get dressed mission briefing is at 0700."

[DarwinMorgan]

Originally Posted by TxTDnts

OCC: Mind if I join this?

OOC: not that its not great to have people posting in a new location thread, but Roarke isnt in the czech, its a military base, the purpose of those posts was to introduce colin gryffth, and set up a storyline for him and Roarke that will take place in CA.

[Ikin]

OOC: No. You just have to read people's posts more carefully.

[SAMurai]

Originally Posted by Ikin

OOC: No. You just have to read people's posts more carefully.

][ OOC: Dude, Ikin, your main avatar kinda weirds me out when accompanied by that headliner. ][

[DarwinMorgan]

Gryffth sat and waited, as he had many times.

He had become accustomed to playing the “hurry up and wait” game with the Major. Alone in the small, windowless briefing room, it often felt more like an interrogation than a standard mission briefing. Even the two-sided mirror that stretched across the far wall, made colin feel as though he was always watched… never trusted.

There was definitely nothing standard about Project: Lazarus though. Before he had even been able to begin to comprehend what was happening to his body, the military had appropriated his gift to their own ends. His contributions to his country, and the world during the past 18 months were as numerous as their effects were historic. He had become what so many before him could not: a super-soldier, a Superhero.

Too bad no one would ever know about him…

The door squeaked as it opened, interrupting his train of thought. The Major entered, and Gryffth stood sharply, saluting his superior, he offered a handshake to his friend.

”At ease Sergeant,” the Major replied, accepting the greeting with a firm grip. Without skipping a beat, he tossed the familiar dossier on the table before Colin, and began the briefing.

”This is what we know,”

The Major wasn’t exactly the most prompt of people, but one thing was for sure, he never hesitated to get to the point.

”As you are already aware, this is Roarke McKiernan. Born in Sheffield, England in 1981. He studied ethology at Oxford before a freak accident rendered him mute. Three years ago, he was accused of conspiring with Iranian nationals to assassinate a UN Ambassador…”

”I’m sorry Sir,” Gryffth interrupted, ”Did you say this guy was mute?”

”That’s correct Sergeant,” the Major continued, ”Professing his innocence, McKiernan was granted Diplomatic Immunity, serving as a translator during the course of the investigation.”

”How the Hell does a mute serve as a translator?”

”The man’s not illiterate Gryff,” the Major said, addressing Colin by his academy moniker. ”Aside from being Oxford-educated, Roarke has a gift.”

”You mentioned that before.”

”Yes, McKiernan shares a similar gene sequence with yourself.”

”Meaning what exactly?”

”As far as we’ve been able to gather, there is an abnormality, a sequence of four specific genetic markers, not present in the average human. These markers combine to produce a mutation of sorts, resulting in increased activity in the brain.”

”So there’s something wrong with my brain?” the Sergeant questioned rather skeptically.

”On the contrary Sgt. Gryffth. Your brain is working beyond the normal limitations of the average human brain. It is, in fact, this anomaly, that is responsible for your resurrection ability.”

”You said this McKiernan had a similar genetic coding, does that mean he has the ability to resurrect himself?”

”No. These mutations seem to manifest themselves differently in each case.”

”Each case?! How many of ‘us’ are there?”

”According to unofficial data collected over the past year by the Human Genome Project, there are hundreds, maybe even thousands of individuals around the globe who have exhibited these ‘abnormalities.’ According to classified documents, there have been reports of heightened senses, spontaneous regeneration, and even flight.”

”Regeneration? Flight?” Gryffth asked, astounded. ”You mean to tell me that there are people who can fly? People who can’t be killed?’

”You yourself can’t technically be killed in the traditional sense Sergeant. Is it so hard to believe?”

”Guess not,” Colin conceded. ”So if there are all these indestructible people running around, why doesn’t the military just recruit them and form an army of ‘supersoldiers?’”

”Who’s to say that other nations haven’t already? We can’t be certain. The British Royal Navy isn’t exactly interested in drawing too much public attention to our operations. Your own activities can attest to that. We’re in the business of secrets Soldier. Which is precisely why intercepting Roarke is so crucial.”

”So what does this guy do? See through walls? Read minds?”

”No. Mr. McKiernan seems to have developed the natural ability to understand and fluently comprehend any language he hears or reads. In effect, he’s a human Rosetta Stone, a cipher’s nightmare.”

”That explains the mute translator,” Colin retorted.

”Roarke has been tracked to the States, where his current agenda is unknown. Initial surveillance reports indicate it may have something to do with the Human Genome Project itself.”

”Who’s he working for?”

”Unknown at this point. Several nations in Eastern Asia have taken new interest in the project as of late. You are assigned to locate Roarke, and intercept him before the information he carries reaches its intended buyer. Once the information has been intercepted, a sting operation will be executed so that you may take Roarke into custody.”

The Sergeant stood and saluted the Major once more, collecting the dossier under his arm, he held the door for his friend to exit the room.

”Colin, the information Roarke is carrying includes Full Disclosure of Project: Lazarus, including intimate details on you, your family, service record, and medical information. This information could most certainly put you in jeopardy should it fall into the wrong hands.”

The major handed him another set of documents, including a passport, and plane ticket.

It’s destination: LAX, Los Angeles, CA, USA.