The tram had finally arrived in Paragon. Erik stood up from his seat in the public booth, lifting his suitcases without effort, despite their weight of over 100 lbs. Such weights did not bother him in the least anymore, not after the treatments. Underneath his reflective sunglasses, his eyes burned with an orange light, a side effect of the super soldier serum treatments he had undergone. A mother and her child smiled at him, and the child asked of him "Are you a hero?" Erik looked down at the glowing face of the child, while his mother apologised for his boldness. "No, I'm not a hero, just a diplomat who's been stationed here." His voice was even, but had a distinct coldness to it. "There is an abundance of heroes for you to worship, little one. I'm here to over-see the disbandment of a group of radicals." He left the tram and entered the staion. Leaving the mulling crowd behind him, he made a beeline for the Mercedes-Benz at the curb. The driver made the perfuncatory greeting, and then started off to the contact point. On the way there, Erik read the updated case file. When they arrived at the office building for a prestigious buisness, he was ushered out of the car and into a private lift. He noticed, in passing, the lack of floor numbers and that the control panel had only three buttons, labeled Garage, Lobby, and Office, resectivly. After the seemingly long ride, he exited into a posh reciving area. The secretary waved him through, and opened the doors for him. The office beyond was large, and had one occupant, the German Ambassador to America.
Turning around from the windows, the ambassador stated <So you have arrived. You read the case files we provided, I assume? The orginal mission has been expanded. Not only are you to bring down the 5th Column, due to your cover story, you must also fight whomever your contacts send you against. This, naturally, will prolong your stay here, but it will give the scientists and doctors more time to find a counter agent to the serum. They most likely will fail, but we knew this before Operation Night Hunter even began. Speaking of that, let me restate the need for your enhanced status to remain absoulty secret. No one must know. If people knew of our remaining stockpiles, it would be extremly damaging. The Americans only know that you are here as a "Hero" as one, you have carte blanch. You know the price of failure. We do not know you, you do not exist, and you will be killed.> There was no malice in the Ambassador's voice, only the mild apprehension that comes from standing in the same room as the person who could snap you in half, and telling them they would be killed by you if they were found out. <Yes, Ambassador. I will not fail. The mission does not allow for it. No one will see me outside of my uniform. The surgical scars, the eyes, all will be hidden. My mind is focused, so any psionics and telepaths would have to rip the information out of my mind. Any who pose a threat to the mission will be dealt with, criminal, civillian, or hero. The 5th Column have plauged us long enough, and I have been made to deal with them. The best equipment from our R&D labs, in addition to the medical surguries and the Super Soldier Serum treatments. I am on equal footing with them, but I have the advantage, for I am coming, and they do not yet know of my existance. Let the rest of the criminal scum be dealt with as they cross my path, for I....> He was cut off as a city wide riot siren went off. He blinked, then looked at the Ambassador, his burning eyes questioning.
<That is the city riot siren. A major riot is going on in some sector. Change into your armour, and report to the nearest police station. Let this be your first test in Paragon, a demonstration of your skills. Go now, for you are no longer Hauptman Erik Schmidt, you are Nacht Jager. Go forth, deal with the irritants, and deal with the Column. You have made a sacrifice to be perfect, investments have been made in you, do not fail yourself, or your country. You are dismissed.> The Ambassador turned away, and looked out over the windows. Nacht Jager clicked his heels, and left the office. In an office assigned to him for the duration of the mission he changed into his armour, a black flack jacket, leather gloves, pants tucked into his jack boots. He took the gas mask helmet, looking into the eye peices, then pushing his apprehension out, he put on the helmet, and sealed it to his jacket. activating the nav hud, he left the building and made his way to the nearest police station. The civillians made way for him, some even waving at yet another costumed hero, confident that they would be protected from whatever outbreak was going on by the heroes of the city. Underneath the helmet, his eyes burned brightly in anticipation. He was perfect, but he had changed in vast ways. He had sacrificed, and his redemption would be in the death of the 5th Column. His secret would never see the light of day, but this was fine, for his day is the night, his playground the roofs, streets and sewers of the city. Where the agents of evil would hide, he would go. He was the hunter in the night, the awnser to the problem, a cure to the cancer of civillisation. He was Germany's last Stormtrooper, made in a new age to kill those who would see Nazism spread accross all of the earth. Erik Schmidt was no more, he had become Nacht Jager.
The tram had finally arrived in Paragon. Erik stood up from his seat in the public booth, lifting his suitcases without effort, despite their weight of over 100 lbs. Such weights did not bother him in the least anymore, not after the treatments. Underneath his reflective sunglasses, his eyes burned with an orange light, a side effect of the super soldier serum treatments he had undergone. A mother and her child smiled at him, and the child asked of him "Are you a hero?" Erik looked down at the glowing face of the child, while his mother apologised for his boldness. "No, I'm not a hero, just a diplomat who's been stationed here." His voice was even, but had a distinct coldness to it. "There is an abundance of heroes for you to worship, little one. I'm here to over-see the disbandment of a group of radicals." He left the tram and entered the staion. Leaving the mulling crowd behind him, he made a beeline for the Mercedes-Benz at the curb. The driver made the perfuncatory greeting, and then started off to the contact point. On the way there, Erik read the updated case file. When they arrived at the office building for a prestigious buisness, he was ushered out of the car and into a private lift. He noticed, in passing, the lack of floor numbers and that the control panel had only three buttons, labeled Garage, Lobby, and Office, resectivly. After the seemingly long ride, he exited into a posh reciving area. The secretary waved him through, and opened the doors for him. The office beyond was large, and had one occupant, the German Ambassador to America.
Turning around from the windows, the ambassador stated <So you have arrived. You read the case files we provided, I assume? The orginal mission has been expanded. Not only are you to bring down the 5th Column, due to your cover story, you must also fight whomever your contacts send you against. This, naturally, will prolong your stay here, but it will give the scientists and doctors more time to find a counter agent to the serum. They most likely will fail, but we knew this before Operation Night Hunter even began. Speaking of that, let me restate the need for your enhanced status to remain absoulty secret. No one must know. If people knew of our remaining stockpiles, it would be extremly damaging. The Americans only know that you are here as a "Hero" as one, you have carte blanch. You know the price of failure. We do not know you, you do not exist, and you will be killed.> There was no malice in the Ambassador's voice, only the mild apprehension that comes from standing in the same room as the person who could snap you in half, and telling them they would be killed by you if they were found out. <Yes, Ambassador. I will not fail. The mission does not allow for it. No one will see me outside of my uniform. The surgical scars, the eyes, all will be hidden. My mind is focused, so any psionics and telepaths would have to rip the information out of my mind. Any who pose a threat to the mission will be dealt with, criminal, civillian, or hero. The 5th Column have plauged us long enough, and I have been made to deal with them. The best equipment from our R&D labs, in addition to the medical surguries and the Super Soldier Serum treatments. I am on equal footing with them, but I have the advantage, for I am coming, and they do not yet know of my existance. Let the rest of the criminal scum be dealt with as they cross my path, for I....> He was cut off as a city wide riot siren went off. He blinked, then looked at the Ambassador, his burning eyes questioning.
<That is the city riot siren. A major riot is going on in some sector. Change into your armour, and report to the nearest police station. Let this be your first test in Paragon, a demonstration of your skills. Go now, for you are no longer Hauptman Erik Schmidt, you are Nacht Jager. Go forth, deal with the irritants, and deal with the Column. You have made a sacrifice to be perfect, investments have been made in you, do not fail yourself, or your country. You are dismissed.> The Ambassador turned away, and looked out over the windows. Nacht Jager clicked his heels, and left the office. In an office assigned to him for the duration of the mission he changed into his armour, a black flack jacket, leather gloves, pants tucked into his jack boots. He took the gas mask helmet, looking into the eye peices, then pushing his apprehension out, he put on the helmet, and sealed it to his jacket. activating the nav hud, he left the building and made his way to the nearest police station. The civillians made way for him, some even waving at yet another costumed hero, confident that they would be protected from whatever outbreak was going on by the heroes of the city. Underneath the helmet, his eyes burned brightly in anticipation. He was perfect, but he had changed in vast ways. He had sacrificed, and his redemption would be in the death of the 5th Column. His secret would never see the light of day, but this was fine, for his day is the night, his playground the roofs, streets and sewers of the city. Where the agents of evil would hide, he would go. He was the hunter in the night, the awnser to the problem, a cure to the cancer of civillisation. He was Germany's last Stormtrooper, made in a new age to kill those who would see Nazism spread accross all of the earth. Erik Schmidt was no more, he had become Nacht Jager.