Audio Logs and Radios can be found throughout Operation Deadbolt. They are divided between each in-game faction: Operation Deadbolt and Terminus Outcomes.
Operation Deadbolt[]
Audio Logs[]
Kapoor: All right, motor pool? I'm Colour Sergeant Rupinder Kapoor. My mates call me Roops. Welcome to Operation Deadbolt. Sorry about the transport getting here. Them C-130's ain't much for creature comforts, is it? But you didn't come for the day spa, right? You're here 'cos you can strip tanks under fire. And if you can't, look to your right - 'cos they can. You can up-armor humvees. You can rebuild jet engines in your sleep. Look - you're not here 'cos you're good. You're here because you're exceptional. The last thing our mates in the field should have to worry about is being let down by a bit of shotie wrenching. Keep everything running like clockwork, and we'll all get on like a house on fire. As you were.
Selma Greene can be heard lifting weights.
Walsh: And one more rep... nice work, ma'am. Weights down.
Greene can be heard putting the weights down.
Walsh: So Langley wouldn't send over his profile. Is that unheard of?
Greene: It's uncommon. But I don't need his damn psych eval to know something's off.
Walsh: You don't trust him?
Greene: Why would I? I've never heard of him. Hell, he doesn't exist as far as I can tell. No family, no service record. Russian government doesn't even know his name. And I swear my source got nervous when I asked.
Walsh: Whenever you're ready.
Greene grunts, lifting weights again.
Greene: But Laswell sends him in, says he's our "expert authority" on the situation.
Walsh: Nice and slow. Good.
Greene grunts again.
Greene: Expert, my ass. This situation is unprecedented. And I'll be damned if I'm going to let that matryoshka of a man fuck it up any more than it already is.
Greene grunts yet again in exhaustion.
Walsh: That's it - one more - good. Weights down.
Greene can be heard putting the weights down.
Walsh: He was in the gym the other night, you know. He's in good shape. Like really good shape. How old is he?
Greene: Apparently even that's above my paygrade, Walsh.
Walsh chuckles.
Walsh: Ah, right. That's everything we had lined up for today.
Greene: Do I look like I'm done?
Walsh: You, ma'am?
Walsh chuckles again.
Walsh: Not that I've ever seen.
Barrera - Dr. Hugo Barrera - analysis log for tissue sample 44E-13, harvested from an Alpha-class Dark Aether organism. This is by far our cleanest sample to date, and what the sequencer shows is, well, increíble. No, no really - I mean it this time. See, with earlier samples we established a symbiotic relationship between Dark Aether organisms and their environment - a transfer of energy and matter that fuels biological evolution at a rate we've never seen before. But what if it's more than that? What if... what if they're also feeding off our reality - cloning, or somehow corrupting organic tissue? I may have just discovered the existence of naturally occurring nucleic acid analogues. Well, it's hard to say without additional data, of course. Ah, I'll need to ask Commander Greene to set up a bounty system to bring more of these Alpha classes in. But I've seen enough to know that we should be careful out there. Horizontal gene transfer concerns again, the idea that the Dark Aether is able to mimic facets of our reality, even imperfectly is... unsettling. We've only seen in this in dead, decaying matter, but what if that changes? What if the data's wrong? What if the data's wrong? Can the Dark Aether corrupt a living person? Ah Dios mio... no, no, no, okay. I... I... I... I need to sit down.
Fang: Captain Amy Fang, Exfil Pilot. I've been asked to recount the events of our initial encounter in the Exclusion Zone. And since it's either this or a failed psych-eval, I guess it's more of an 'order' than an 'ask'. But, then again, what do I know? After Zakhaev turned Urzikstan into an utter hell-scape, Gibbs, Jackson and Spalding were sent to locate survivors. It was a standard CASEVAC... something I've done a hundred times over. (brief pause) Yeah, no. We get to the site and it's completely deserted. No ground team to meet us, no locals - just a fucking ghost town. That's when Gibbs spotted them. We were so relieved to find survivors that we didn't notice how many there were - how erratic their movement was. Or that they'd surrounded the helo... within seconds, they were sprinting towards us and every molecule in my body was screaming to run. Gibbs and Jackson piled in just as I was walking off. Spalding... Spalding was on the ladder... this... this... howling mountain of dead flesh. It's a wonder we could hear his screams at all. I had to keep flying. I had to keep the chopper in the air, or none of us were going to make it. By the time we landed - the only thing left of Spalding were his arms - still dangling from the ladder. (pause) Roops - Sergeant Kapoor - told me they had to break his fingers to get them off.
A phone can be ringing, cutting to voicemail.
Ravenov: Kapitan Sergei Ravenov. Personal log. Perhaps I should stop saying rank. It was stripped from me long ago. I have been many things I have left Spetsnaz. Informant. Traitor. Requiem operator. Mob enforcer. Instrument of revenge... slayer of monsters. Decades have passed. The world transformed. And yet here we are again. At least this time, we had a plan in place. Operation Deadbolt came together overnight. My colleagues seem capable enough, even if they do not trust me. And why should they? But there is already so much for them to absorb. My story can wait until they are ready. I only hope this is my last dance with darkness. I just don't know how many more monsters I can slay.
Psychologist: I'm curious, Dr. Jansen - do you have any reservations about your new... circumstances?
Greene: Specialist Ravenov, appreciate you being here. Let's get right into it.
Ravenov: Da.
Greene: What you're looking at is the latest satellite imaging of the Exclusion Zone. Dobbs, pull up the heat map. As you can see, preliminary data shows zombies most active near Low Town and the surrounding regions. Terminus forces are concentrated here, here, and here, with mobile units patrolling the routes between. At the strategic level our plan is straightforward. We strike at key Terminus locations around the hot zones.
Ravenov: Yes, destabilize grip on perimeter, limit communications, then deliver swift assault on outbreak's epicenter while Terminus reels. We did similar in Kabul. This could work.
Greene: Kabul? What do you know about Kabul?
Ravenov stumbles his speech a bit, clearly taken off guard.
Ravenov: It is nothing. Forget it.
Greene: Specialist Ravenov, the Soviet Invasion of Afghanistan was 40 years ago-
Ravenov: I am saying you have good plan. For now. But do not let mercenaries distract you from the true danger here. The undead are everywhere, and they will not relent.
Greene: Well, we seem to be on the same page regarding strategy - that's good. Let's talk logistics.
Ravenov: Logistics? This is not my area. But we will speak more when you are done, yes?
Greene: It's going to be a while.
Ravenov: Do not worry. I am used to waiting.
A long pause as Ravenov leaves the room.
Miller: Welcome to the Exclusion Zone. We call it the "EZ", but there's nothing easy about it. Lucky for you, this ain't my first rotten rodeo. I know what you're up against and I got what you need. Sergeant Krystal Miller, USMC. I'm company quartermaster for Operation Deadbolt. Need guns? Need gear? Need a clue? You come see Krystal. Want to hold your distance from that howling mob? I've got a robust selection of high powered rifles. Looking to mow them down like grass? I've got LMGs that reap what you sow. Trying to keep them out of your face? I've got shotguns that can drop a Grizzly. Keep in mind, there'll be some splash. Good luck with the stains. Hell, I could go on all day, but I'll spare you the sales pitch. You already know what you want. Just ask nicely and mind your manners. Respect the Quartermaster, and she'll keep you geared up.
Miller: - just not damn fair, is it?! Is it, Luke?? I mean, too dangerous? We got ourselves three-headed monsters for neighbors and that damn woman says it's too dangerous?! Heaven forbid we have any fun. The old Russian guy with more scars than personality can do whatever he damn well pleases, but NOT KRYSTAL! (sighs) Don't look at me like that, Luke. Yes, infusing live rounds with Aetherium comes with some risks, but who better than Hugo and I to pull it off? That's what I thought. Honestly, who doesn't want Aetherium bullets? Aetherium bullets! I'll tell you, our fearless leader is really starting to- what the hell? Are you recording this?!
Greene: Greene. Correct. I'm on the hunt for strong stomachs for Deadbolt. Yeah, well circumstances are unique. We have "unknown" combatants as well as private sector soldiers. (chuckles) If it was easy, they wouldn't put it in my hands. My people have already made some pulls. I like Fang. Mental evaluations flagged her as sturdy. And Kapoor has seen a lot of actions. He's got some strong references. For Quartermaster your people recommended Miller? Apparently she's had contact with the kind of phenomena we're dealing with. No shit... Yeah, she'll have good insight. I'll take her. Another thing. Higher-ups pulled rank and recruited this Russian named Ravenov. They say he's an expert. Any info? Nothing? Damn. You too huh? Guy's a legit ghost, which given what we're facing would be ironic if it weren't so serious. Nh-nuh, I don't like it. Alright, well - thanks for trying.
Laswell: Selma.
Greene: Hello Kate.
Laswell: Given you are calling my personal phone, I assume you know this line isn't secure...?
Greene: Well, this is more of a personal nature, Kate...
Laswell: Yeah, the kind where you ask me "how long we've known each other..." followed by some classified business?
Greene: I'm not going to ask it, but by all means - feel free to answer.
Laswell: We have known each other long enough for you to understand when I can help, and when I can't.
Greene: So this is the latter?
Laswell: This is the latter.
Greene: You know the file you sent on Ravenov is more redaction than file. I'd have gotten a better sense of who this man was from a pair of his old boots.
Laswell: Like I said... my hands are tied.
Greene: Come one, gimme something here, Kate. For old time's sake.
Laswell: Selma - take my word for it. Ravenov is an expert in this field. You need him.
Greene: Yeah, well I'm still not entirely clear on what this 'field' even is.
Laswell: You asked for something... I gave you something...
Greene: Yeah, you did. Thank you.
Laswell: This is... new ground, Selma. When this is over, I hope you'll call and tell me how glad you were to have Ravenov on the team...
Laswell: Sergeant MacTavish.
Soap: Laswell. You recording this?
Laswell: I'm with the agency, Soap - I record everything...
Soap: Always honest, Kate. I'll give ya that.
Laswell: You read the package I sent on our new asset?
Soap:'Asset'? Interesting choice of words for an unreliable disloyale, violent Russian.
Laswell: You've done your homework.
Soap: Damn right I did... My I continue?
Laswell: Something tells me you will...
Soap: I reckon we've witnessed our fair share of shite... but is this for real, or a bloody fuckin' joke?
Laswell: It's real, Soap.
Soap: Then what kind of steamin' mad fuckery is in the redacted bits?
Laswell: Why don't you tell me?
Soap: I'm askin' you to tell me. 'Cause this reeks of PSYOPS, and no offense - that's more your bag than mine.
Laswell: Your reaction isn't surprising, but... I assure you, Soap. We need to treat this threat seriously. Deadbolt are only just realizing what they're up against. Which is why I need you to know just... just a little bit more than them.
Soap: A little? Jesus, Kate.
Laswell: Given his... resume... Ravenov's presence may be our ace in the hole.
Soap: He's a liability, Laswell. Sure as the rising sun... unless you got a file on that too.
Laswell: Not yet... If he tries to slip the leash... I trust you to handle it.
Soap: What are my rules?
Laswell: You have execute authority. You see a need... choose your move... and I will back it. No questions asked.
Gunshots can be heard.
Miller: Cease fire!
Soap: Quite a steady hand for a man your age. What age is that, again?
Ravenov: Where I come from, Sergeant McTavish, it is rude to ask this question.
Soap: Fair enough - but where I come from, we like to know the man fightin' beside us.
Ravenov: What is it you would like to know, then?
Miller: Range is hot!
Gunshots can be heard.
Miller: Cease fire!
Ravenov: Perhaps we should start with what I know about you. Youngest SAS selection in British Army history. Handpicked for Task Force 141. Deployed on countless classified operations. Highly decorated, highly regarded. (chuckles) And apparently, a damn good shot.
Soap: See that's funny. You know all that, and the only thing I know about you is that you don't fuckin' exist.
Ravenov: We are both soldiers, no? Surely this is not the first time you have fought alongside someone who 'does not exist'.
Soap: Can't confirm or deny that... Fine. You keep your secrets... I don't need 'em.
Ravenov: Why are you here, Sergeant?
Soap: Stayin' sharp. Same as you.
Ravenov: Da? Then I supposed you would not refuse a little friendly competition, eh?
Soap: Depends what you got in mind...
Ravenov: Five rounds. Thightest grouping. Loser owes a bottle of whatever I saw you drinking last night.
Soap: Scotch.
Ravenov: Of course... You afraid, Sergeant?
Soap: (laughs) Another thing you should know about me... I don't know the meaning of that word... Say when, old man...
Miller: Range is hot!
Fang: Fang here. Nothing new to report on this sweep. Do you guys need anything-
Strange noises and static can be heard.
Entity: Let us in.
The noises stop.
Fang: What the shit was that? Dobbs! Are you pulling some interference crap on my channel?!
Dobbs: Uhh... No. Why are you yelling on mine?
Fang: Someone or... something blacked out my comms. Did you have any issues just now? Hear anyone you... didn't recognize?
Dobbs: Negative. Sounds like something worth reporting though.
Fang: Yeah... yeah I will.
Dobbs: You okay?
Fang: Of course I am.
Dobbs: Oh, just askin'...
Fang: Yeah I'm okay. Just... spooky.
Dobbs: Everything here is spooky. You're probably not goin' nuts... probably.
Jansen: Dr. Ava Jansen - audio-whatever-this-is. I just need to... unload my brain a bit. Alright. To be clear - I am perfectly aware that any correlation between dreams and reality is purely coincidental. It's only... that figure in the rift... I've seen it before. I, uh - I had these dreams when I was a kid. Thought they'd gone for good years ago. In my dreams, the figure... it would call to me. A-and it would feel so familiar. Like, I knew it somehow. Look, this is probably just stress. It's the only logical explanation. But, I'll just tell Greene I need to take a mental health day. You know, after the apocalypse.
Barrera: --the limestone's connected to the - sandstone. The sandstone's connected to the -
Jansen: Knock knock.
Barrera: Oh - Doctor Jansen! I didn't know you were, uh, right there.
Jansen: Listen, I wanted to get your opinion on something, if you're not too... busy.
Barrera: No - nonono. Please, please - come in!
Jansen: I've been analyzing the data from the... well, the phenomenon that occured-
Barrera: The Rift! Yes, yes, aren't the numbers incredible?! The seismic fluctuations alone are unlike anything I've ever seen, on any planet. Look at these! If it weren't for my security clearance, I would send this to every scientist who ever called me a-
Jansen: Doctor Barrera, I should be dead.
Barrera: You - you, what?
Jansen: The amount of energy unleashed at that moment should have vaporized every atom in my body. Look at your own readings - a hole was torn between dimensions. Why didn't it tear me apart too?
Barrera: I- I don't know.
Jansen: Will you do me a favor? I took a scan of myself after the event, but I'm worried I'm too close to this to properly analyze the results. Would you mind?
Barrera: Yes - Yes, of course! Uh, what exactly am I looking for?
Jansen: I'm not sure. Somerthing - anything - that can tell us more about what happened. Out there, and to me.
Barrera: I am on it, Doctor Jansen.
Jansen: Thank you. I... need to clear my head. I'll leave you to it.
Ava Jansen leaves the room.
Jansen: Hi, mum. It's me. I know, I know. I meant to call you days ago, but a lot has happened. Right now I need you to listen. The people I was working for weren't who they claimed to be. It's bad. Really, really bad. They used my birth-mother's research to do something... disastrous. I can't go into detail because it's classified. You understand that. You worked in Intelligence. But they did let me make this call so at least you know I'm alive and safe. No, I can't come home. Not yet. I made a mess of things here and I have to set it right. Yes, I know I'm in over my head. We all are. But you and Baba did everything you could to prepare me. And I can't run away from this. Not now. Look, I'll talk to you soon. I hope.
Kapoor: Oi, motor pool! Listen up! It's been brought to my attention that some of our operators refer to us lot as "fobbits", "REMFs" and "geardos". Now obviously, we know that's a load of old bollocks, but it's important that we remember why. Think of all these major advancements in warfare - going right back to the Assyrian war chariot. Game changer? Too bloody right. Later on, empires relied on naval power - Viking longboats, British man-o-wars, American aircraft carriers... Tanks in World War One. The Blitzkrieg in World War Two. Jets in Korea. Helicopters in Vietnam. Are you seeing a pattern yet? It's all about transportation and technology. Our graft may not be glamorous, but w are the beating heart of warfare. Battles are won and lost on mobility. So if any of those grunts ever treat you like some sort of "grease-monkey", they're only showing their ignorance. No matter what they say, you'd soon hear it if our shit didn't work right in the field. We are nigh on irreplaceable, innit? As you were. Off you go.
Ava Jansen: Commencing preliminary test of Aetherium Neutralizer Mark Two. Doctor Ava Jansen recording. Here we go. Despite the considerable hurdles we faced with the prototype... This iteration already promises to be a marked improvement over its predecessor. In a nutshell, our prototype generated a field that destabilized Aetherium to an atomic level. It isn't enough to shatter its crystalline form - for true neutralization, we have to achieve nuclear decay, transforming the element into a series of harmless isotopes. Unfortunately, the power required to generate such a field is exponentially proportionate to the area of effect, such that it ranges approaching the size o the EZ... Well. We could never marshal that much power. Secondly, the field would only penetrate a few feet of the element, and we know from seismic scans of the EZ that sub-surface deposit can reach 300 feet. So, while the prototype worked, it was only a partial success. At first, Strauss' research felt like a scavenger hunt. The man was clearly a genius, but my goodness, he would have benefited from peer review. That said, the end result was clearly worth it. I noticed a constant in Strauss' equations - the resonant frequency of Aetherium. He took a stab at a ballpark figure for it, but had no way to measuring it accurately. Well it's not the 1950s anymore, so with the help of Doctor Barrera's field team, we got a reading - accurate down to the ten to the minus twelve. Plugging that number back into the original equations was a breakthrough. Where our prototype was a hammer, this iteration is a scalpel. Better yet, it will operate at peak power for long enough to clear deposits up to 500 feet across. And all without having to violate any of the laws of thermodynamics. As for the device itself - maybe don't let the higher ups know that the whole thing is held together with paper clips and dental floss. Joking. I appreciate the risj that has been taken... And I understand how imperative it is that I deliver.
Ava Jansen: Ava Jansen, private journal. Eighth of June, 2020. Fourteen years since I learned I was adopted. Happened in Biology class. We did blood-type tests. Mine ruled out Mum and Dad as my birth-parents. I marched straight home and turned the place upside down looking for my birth certificate. Instead I found a CD-ROM full of research by someone named Elizabeth Grey. Her photo... I knew that face from a hazy childhood memory I told myself was a dream. When they came home, my parents - the ones who actually raised me - told me about their old friend... the one who left and never came back. What could be so damned important that you'd abandon a three year-old?! It tore me up so much, I dove into physics to avoid that question. In time I stopped looking for her in the files and focused on the research itself. Schrödinger, Hawking, Kaku, they all had theories about other universes and dimensions. Elizabeth Grey's work went beyond mere theory. Her painstaking dissections of the Dark Aether life forms... her spectrographic analyses of their tissues... Her partnership with Oskar Strauss to codify the exotic physics animating these impossible organisms... The more I understood, the less I was driven by anger and resentment to study her work. Now all that's left... is to exceed her.
Kapoor: Kapoor to All Stations. Look, I know we're all havin' a laugh running over corpses with our vehicles. I might even be guilty myself... However, we're gonna have to knock that nonsense off 'cuz it's us lot that have to clean up your mess. Turns out that not only are they tough to kill, they're really hard to rinse off, too. And besides, all these extra parts and peices lying around the place is just unsanitary, init? We had a mishap the other day. One of our lads had a temporary parting of ways with one of his digits. So there we are, face down in the grime, looking for one finger and come up with three. Shit was mental. So, stick to non-vehicular undead elimination, yeah? Cheers.
Ravenov: Time to give an update on my favorite complication... I am getting a headache thinking about her. All these years, carefully watching from afar. And now I am staring her in the face, and... I am not happy. The plan was for her to stay out of the... muck. And yet, here she is, neck deep in it. Well, my old friends, I guess we stood no chance against fate. She is too smart, too driven to be kept away. Reminds me of someone I used to know. She will save us, I know it. However. Her passion for her work blinds her. She threw herself into the fire to find answers. I could not catch her... and I fear that she will get burned.
Ava Jansen: Ava Jansen, personal notes. I've come to a crossroads and both paths lead to trouble. Operation Deadbolt provided me tools and resources, but it's not enough. Greene continues to keep me on a short leash. I lost her trust when that first Rift opened. And for everything Ravenov shares when we work together, he holds back so much more. The only way I can end this situation is to work on my own - to step outside this CIA bubble. I've gathered what I need without attracting attention. Like a proper spy. Maybe Ravenov is starting to rub off on me. Greene'll be livid when I go AWOL, but he won't let me do what I have to, so I won't bother asking. But if it works, they'll know that I did it all for the greater good.
Miller: Um, excuse me Ravenov, feel free to send me packing, but I've noticed you're not rattled by anything going on here. Also, people've been saying Greene didn't have a choice in bringing you on board.
Ravenov: My expertice came... at a high price. Being here, it is my duty. We all have out instructions.
Miller: Hmm... I've got history with this kind of things too. The place I grew up - it was a town by the name of Lib-
Ravenov: -My God... You were there? But you would have been so young... how did you possib-
Miller: -Holdup. You know about what happened? Every pencil neck I've ever spoken to said those files were sealed.
Ravenov: People... they tell me things. I know it was a tragedy.
Miller: Well, shit. I've kept my mouth shut, worked my ass off in the service, and convinced the powers that be to assign me to Deadbolt - just to find out that you're the one with the answers?
Ravenov: Perhaps I can help? When you have the time, record what you remember. And I can do my best to connect the dots for you. Separate fact from fiction.
Miller: You'd do that?
Ravenov: I promise.
Miller: Deal. Now, that means you can't go dying on me.
Ravenov: I... am good at keeping promises.
Ava Jansen: I just confronted Ravenov. Rubbed his nose in all the evidence I dug up on him, and... nothing. Aside from a few crumbs about this "Maxis", he won't say what exactly his old teammates in Requiem achieved. I mean, clearly they figured out how to weaponize Aetherium, or we wouldn't be having this little Apocalypse... so why won't he give me anything I can actually use to stop it! He must be some sort of ex-Soviet intelligence officer... was he a defector? People like that keep notes. They steal documents. But if he won't share what he's got, I'll have to dig up the dirt myself. Heh. Pretty sure Greene would throw me in some deep dark hole if she heard me talking like this. Then again, I usually find that if I'm pissing her off, I'm probably on the right track...
Greene: That's three - three - convoys we've lost in the last week and you're telling me comms are secure?
Soap: Don't shoot the messenger, ma'am.
Greene: You better find me someone to shoot, 'cause I'm this close to-- Ah, Specialist Ravenov - so nice of you to join us.
Ravenov: Officer Greene. I'm sorry I am late. I've brought latest reprts from--
Greene: Fankly, I don't give a shit what you've brought.
Soap: Ma'am--
Greene: -No. I've had enough. No one in this room will give me a straight answer. This operation is going straight to hell if I can't rely on my own personnel to tell me the truth.
Ravenov: Why don't we go through reports, and then you and I cou--
Greene: Enough bullshit, Ravenov. It's time for you to come clean.
Ravenov: Listen, if it were possib--
Greene: No, you listen to me. I'm supposed to be containing this outbreak and instead I'm dealing with a bunch of half-assed stories and bald-faced lies. If I'm going to effectively run this operation, I need the whole picture. So, Ravenov - either you open up- give me some concrete reasons to trust you, or get the hell out of my sight.
Soap: Specialist Ravenov has been instrumental in the progress we've made here. Without him--
Greene: "Progress"? Progress implies some forward momentum, Soap. The EZ hasn't spread, but unless I'm mistaken, it's getting worse out there, not better.
Soap: Respectfully, we're at war. Operators like Ravenov are crucial to containement. I know we're up against it... But sidelining him is not the answer. We need every asset we have in the fight...
Greene: Okay, Sergeant. But I'm telling you now - before this is all over, I will have my answers. Ravenov - let's see those reports. Please.
Ravenov: Having been inside a Rift now, I am... troubled. What I heard on the other side sounded very much alive. Not like these other creatures we've been dealing with. This one is different... dangerous. I can feel Ava fading as it gets stronger. She is not herself. Even worse, she's doing everything to hide it. We feared something like this would happen. And that is why I stayed here, always watching. And yet, I was unable to stop this catastrophe. And I know it is not her fault, but this child... this woman, she is a magnet for disaster. And this thing on the other side, I don't understand it. And anyone who would is long gone. All I know is she is in danger. But this time, I-I-I do not know how or when the enemy will strike. Perhaps I was not the one who needed to stay behind.
Barrera: Ay... ay dios mio... I don't know what's happening. I just got back from the field. And I was told I should make a record while everything is still... "fresh". There has been... so many losses. Losses... I don't even like that word, "losses". It's not adequate. People died. They are gone. I don't like grouping them together like a statistic. I keep getting pushed to step outside my expertise to influence decisions. It doesn't feel ethical. They cannot even distinguish one scientist from another. When I came here I was- I was so excited. I forgot about the military side. They need me, but most of them do not understand me. And I know better, and still... I couldn't stop myself. The discoveries I have made here have so much potential to make the world better. But of course, of course, of course... all they talk about is weapons. Aetherium is consuming my life... And I won't be able to talk about it with anyone... except for the people here. I wanted... so, so, so much to see what no one had seen. Now I wonder if it was worth it.
Phone ringing tone
Greene: Guess I'll leave a voicemail... Hey Walsh. Look no need to call me back. I just... need to get some shit off my chest. We buted our collective asses to pry Zakhaev outta here and then he goes of his own accord. (chuckles) That should've been good news. But no, Fletcher decides to stay and mine Aetherium. It could already be on the black market for all we know. Terminus caught the scent of a fat payday like bloodhounds. They're moving fast and getting very territorial. And I know Soap can handle Fletcher. He'll have to get creative, but yeah he can handle it. However, I still don't trust Ravenov and Jansen, but they're the only ones I can depend on to solve our rift problem. And if they dont come through for us - our losses will be... (sigh) unacceptable... just unacceptable. Well I have to go prepare a contingency plan if Jansen doesn't come through so... listen, uh, thanks for listening.Miller: Ravenov - I know you told me to record this when I had time. Well, I'm making time. If you can fill in the gaps - I might be able to make peace with what happened. Right. Outbreak day. First thing I did that day was wake up and go to school. It was '91 so I must've been in kindergar- no wait, no... first grade. Sometime after recess there was a fire-drill. When everyone filed out onto the playground, we found our parents waiting for us. I was so excited to see Mom and Dad, it... I-I didn't notice how scared they looked - I thought they'd planned something special, like we were going to the bowling alley or something. Before I knew what was happening, Mom grabbed me by the wrist and ran. I-I mean I had not idea where we were going - now that I think about it, she probably didn't either. Dad had his hunting rifle with him. He was just ahead of us, but I kept losing sight of him 'cuz he was always ducking around corners. Mom still had her hand wrapped around my writ - telling me to pick up my feet or I'd get left behind. Our little town must've been in chaos - but I didn't notice any of that. All I could do was focus on staying upright. I-I tried to keep up, I really did. But my legs were too short and we were running so fast. I cried, begging Mom to slow down - but she just tightened her grip, and kept her eyes straight ahead. Saying over and over... "Pick up your feet, baby girl, or you're gonna get left behind..." I tried to get Dad's attention - get him to tell her to stop. But he'd bolted down the alleyway by Olly's Comics. That's when I heard a loud crash. Somethin' growled, Dad started screaming... and then... then the rifle went off. Mom just kept running. I think that's enough for today.
Miller: Hi, Ravenov. Sorry for the delay. I've been trying to record the rest of my story about Liberty Falls but... Turns out talking about trauma is harde than I'd anticipated. You'd think Dobbs would've warned me. Well, then again, the only soul I'm telling this to is you. So I guess that ain't on him. Okay - where was I? Oh yeah, Dad had gotten attacked over by Olly's Comics. When we passed the allay where he'd been jumped, I saw Dad's body and... I guess, something in me just snapped. It was like the lights getting flipped on at bar close. Suddenly, everything was too loud, too brigh. I-I-I wasn't prepared for it. All the stuff I hadn't noticed up 'til then came flooding in - people screaming, buildings on fire, shots going off in all directions... And everywhere I turned... there were monsters. Mom and me tried to take a shortcut behind the Motor Lodge, but it was blocked - I could hear the growls behind us getting louder. That's when Mom spotted the fire escape. As I climbed the fire escape, the growls were coming from directly below me. I looked down, and that's when I saw them... A swarming sea of monsters, crashing into Mom like she was a boat caught in a hurricane. It was the first time I'd seen a horde of those... things. "Run". That's what she told me before disappearing beneath the waves. Run. So I ran. I-I don't remember much after that. I'm ashamed to admit I-I've been too scared to try. When my Aunt and Uncle took me in - they told me the Steel Mountain Riders had found me holed up inside Freedom Fried Chicken three days after the outbreak ended. Which is probably why I hate fried chicken.
Soap: SSO Greene- I see this meet so we can bury the beef between you and Ravenov... It hurts your leadership. It hurts morale. And I am not losing any more operators because you two can't play nice.
Greene: The ball's in Ravenov's court. Always has been.
Soap: Negative. You work your shite out, right here... right now. Both of ya... Rav, give her something. Help Greene get to a place where she can let herself trust you.
Ravenov: I am veteran of previous outbreaks. I know this enemy as well as anyone can. Why is this not enough?
Greene: Because you are hiding things from me that I need to do my job. You serve this operation, not the other way around.
Soap: Easy, now... Least we're talking. Could you rely on someone who won't show all their cards, Rav...?
Ravenov: Nyet... but... we always compartmentalize intelligence, do we not?
Greene: Not to our superiors. I need all I can get from you to do my job right.
Ravenov: And if I withhold things for your protection? What if knowing more does not make you safer?
Soap: That's her risk to take, mate.
Greene: I wasn't assigned this position to keep me safe. I have a duty to serve.
Ravenov: Fair enough, comrade Greene. Where should I start?
Greene: Well, no thanks to your file- I don't even know your date of birth.
Ravenov: I was born in Leningrad on Twentieth of April, 1951.
Greene: Bullshit... That would make you, what? Seventy-three? There's no way...
Hugo Barrera: (laugh) Here it is.
Selma Greene: Is that what I think it is?
Barrera: Si. The whole enchilada. Everything we know about the Rifts.
Greene: Give me the abstract.
Barrera: "Abstract"? Commander, there is over sixty pages of data, analyses, and test cases in there, so is... I... I... I can try, of course! You see... it all comes back to frequencies. Atomic resonance. Have you ever played with a tuning fork?
Greene: Not recently.
Barrera: Ah, well, I will explain. Two coupled objects vibrating at related frequencies can interact with each other via energy transfer. Between your average tuning forks, the transferred energy is miniscule. But - imagine two larger, far more energetic objects, separated not by air but by dimensional boundaries. Such objcts, if attuned to one another's extra-dimensional frequency and brought into close proximity, could cause an extreme energy spike - enough to tear a hole from one world into another.
Greene: Yes, I get it.
Barrera: It's really quite difficuly- wait, you do?
Greene: Dimensional energy transfer... Far from the strangest thing I've heard on this assignment. I suppose the question now is - what's causing the vibration? What's acting as our tuning fork?
Barrera: Well, not what, ma'am. We believe the question is who.
Greene: Who? This tuning fork of yours is a person? My God...
Barrera: Maybe you should read the whole report, ma'am.
Greene: I think I'll do just that. This is... exemplary work, Hugo. There's gonna be some people in Washington who will be very impressed by what you've pulled together here.
Barrera: Oh - nonono... I mean I just, you know, doing what anyone would do. I mean, not that just anyone could do this- well, I suppose it wasn't that difficult, but it wasn't that easy-
Greene: You've been working hard. Why don't you take a day - see the sun. Have a drink. You've earned it.
Barrera: (chuckles) Nonono... that's not necessary- well, I supposed I could so that. Si... Si, yes, I could do that. I have earned it. Gracias mamá, I will-
Greene: Come again?
Barrera: Oh no... I... I don't know what happened... I am going to go now, Commander Greene.
Dobbs: Oh. Sweet Jes-
Fang: Morning, sunshine. Want some coffee?
Dobbs: What the hell - how are you standing?
Fang: Are you kidding? Drinking guys like you under the table is a Minnesotan tradition. Besides, I've been USAF since I was 17. Publicly humiliating assholes who treat me like I don't belong is cheaper than therapy and a lot more fun. You want some eggs?
Dobbs: Wha? Eggs? Oh. Why'd you-
Fang: -look, this is a one time offer. I'm not your Mom - either eat the eggs, or don't.
Dobbs: I... I mean, sure, okay. Thanks. These are really good.
Fang: Yeah, well. I figured you'd be a hurtin' unit this morning. So setting you up with some coffee and eggs seemed like the decent thing to do.
Dobbs: Uhhh. Sorry I... I've been such a shit to you.
Fang: You're fine - you apologized for all that stuff last night.
Dobbs: I did?
Fang: Seriously? Yes - water under the bridge. Eat your fucking eggs.
Dobbs: Thanks, Amy.
Fang: It's... it's America, actually.
Dobbs: Okay...?
Fang: My parents are immigrants, and 'USA all the way' is kind of the family motto. So you know - whatever, they named me America.
Dobbs: America? America Fang? Ohh, wait. That means you're Captain America-
Ava: Dammit.
Kapoor: Ava? You alright?
Ava: I'm fine, I'm fine - just tired. Sleep's not coming easy right now.
Kapoor: Look - my Aunties didn't raise a fool. There's tired - then there's whatever state you're in. You look like someone's slashed your tires.
Ava: Guh. Fuck my life. Everything's gotten so... messy.
Kapoor: Hey, hey - what's this all about, then?
Ava: I dunno, I'm just waiting for the dumpster fire to go out, I guess.
Kapoor: Oh, you need me to fetch a Fire Brigade?
Ava: No. This one needs to burn. Honestly - if I knew this was how my life was going to play out, I would have made very different choices. Wait. No. What am I even saying? None of this is my fault. All of it - it's just the result of other people's stupid, selfish choices. Why is it my responsibility to fix this? I didn't pour on the kerosene - and I sure as hell didn't light the match. Sorry. This isn't your problem.
Kapoor: No harm, no foul. I'm the one who asked. Listen, you know you don't have to shoulder this alone. You've plenty of mates here - me, Miller, Ravenov-
Ava: -He's not my friend. He's not anything.
Radios[]
Miller: Field name: Hellhound. I dunno if that's where they're from but good golly, they look it. In short, this is one mangey mutt you don't want to tangle with. Now, if you move quick and quite, you might just be able to sneak up on them. But, they catch sight of you? Well, that's all she wrote. They'll rush you, sink their teeth in, and start mangling your squishy bits. Even if you maange to shoot the sum' bitch, well... Boom goes the doggo-mite. Uh. One more thing. We got word that these pesky pooches are being spotted in doghouses. Maybe they just ate the family pet and took up residence. But with all the spooky shit around these days, you never know - could be more nefarious.
Miller: By now, I think we've figureout who makes everything worse - no, not Dobbs - the undead. Whether they be shamblers, doggos, shapeshifters, or threed headed... uh, whatever Megaboms are. But let me tell you, it gets worse. Much worse. Enter the Disciple - this S.O.B. got the corner office in the Hard to Kill Department. Weapons? (chuckles) Lots. They got more tricks up their sleeves than a cut-rate magician on bath salts. These floaty fuckers control other zombies. Making 'em faster, angrier, and nigh on impossible to put down. Don't have any zombies around? Oh, that's okay! They'll invite their own. That's right. You piss off a Disciple and you're gonna find yourself on the guest list to Satan's kegger. Now, remember the part where I said it gets much worse? Yeah, about that... If you ever get close enough to do damage, they're gonna hit you with this beam that - I shit you not - steals your life force. And then, adding insult to injury, those sneaky bastards will heal themselves with it! My advice? If you're gonna take one on - bring buddies with you. After all, friends don't let friends fight alone.
Fang: Hey there. Captain Amy Fang. Deadbolt exfil pilot and getaway extraordinaire. I've made a bunch of trips over the EZ already and wow... I thought I knew what a "shitshow" meant. This takes the cake. It's like some horror movie I wouldn't wanna see. I'm talking straight-to-video bloodbath. Jury's still out on who's bigger pain in the ass - the monsters or the damn mercs. Monsters make it hard to land. They're hungry and tend to get handsy. Mercs make it hard to do anything. Especially when triple A's involved. Look, I'm just trying to keep my bird in one piece. The less drama in my LZ the better. I'm gonna let you get to it. Lots of fun stuff to do around here. If you find yourself in a bind, give me a call, I'll come get ya.
Miller: Alrighty, field name: Mangler. Weapons: Right arm, Shockwave Cannon. Left hand, big sharp blades. Don't turn your back on Manglers, they're like well armed bears. Their sight is sharp and they will charge at anything. Their cannons will raise hell on your senses. Cover won't help you. That said, the wiring is for shit. Pump a few rounds into that arm and BOOM. Now, if big boy loses his cannon, he's gonna close in with those blades. Best bet? Get on his flank. They're good at charging forward, but like my Aunt Pam, it takes 'em a while to turn around. These things have armor that puts a battle tank to shame so body shots are probably useless. However, you pop that helmet off and the head'll be vulnerable. I wouln't mind one of those helmets as a souvenir. Just sayin'. One last thing - those chatterboxes are constantly mutterin' to themselves. Something to listen for if we wanna avoid them. That's all I got for this one folks.
Miller: All right class, please open your textbooks to page six and we'll talk about today's nightmare fuel. Field name: Mega Abomination. Now that's a mouthful - even for this three-headed monstrosity - so let's just call them Megaboms. Weaponry: high-powered, skull-mounted Electrobolt Beam that tops 50,000 degrees Farenheit on a snowy day. But it doesn't stop there. Big fellas can charge at the speed of a bull, and their bit can sever your spine. Now you might be thinking - 'hmmm, fella that size probably can't follow me into a building" - and you'd be right. But his friends can. Yep, Megabombs carry crawlers on their belly that'll detach and chase you right back into the open, if you let them. Make sure you don't. So how do you take down a Megabom? Well, you gotta have patience, and hopefully a couple buddies. Aim for the mouths - nobody likes a toothache. If you can land a grenade in there, even better. Take the heads out one at a time, nice and methodical, and it'll be dead before you know it. Well, deader that it was, at least. Any other questions, you come find me and I'll give you all the gory details. Good hunting out there, folks.
Dobbs: Captain Lucas Dobbs to ground pounders. Do me a favor and look up, will you? See that? Course you don't - it's 5 feet long and 25,000 feet above your head. But it can see you - and so can I. Yep, Deadbolt's resident eye-in-the-sky checking in, currently enjoying the view from under the belly of a Class-1 ISTAR UAV. What is that? Aw. I'm glad you asked. It's an unmanned aerial fucking velociraptor - and it's keeping your asses safe all the way from the tropopause. See, pilots and field operators aren't the only ones here making a difference - no matter what Fang says. There's a lot of threats down there and I got eyes on every single one. You want to survive the EZ, you'll listen to what I have to say. Now tell your buddy to stop looking up like an idiot and let's get to work.
Dobbs: Captain Dobbs submitting live report on Deadbolt drone maiden recon flight over EZ. Whoa, ho! Wild. The terrain is dotted with I don't know... purple rocks... emitting light? Oh man, Barrera's gonna be all over those. It looks like I'm passing over a herd of wildlife of some kind. Zooming. Well, that looks like... survivors? Hey, there's survivors down there! No - hold on one sec, I'm making another pass. Something's not right here. Repositioning... repositioning... It... It... No, they're not movin' right. Staggering... Holy fuck - they look decomposed. Command, now... look... please don't JAG me for what I'm saying. I'm not making this shit up. Something else on the move, it... it looks like... animals? Animals might not be the word. They're- What the hell is that? The ground is... It's heaving... some kind of... Whatever that is... It's fucking massive. Uhhhh. At... at this point I'm recommending a very dense surveillance schedule. Radar is picking up a lot of... a lot of unknowns down there waiting for our ground teams. I'm RTB. And... and someone's gotta debrief me on whatever the fuck it was I just saw. Dobbs out.
Ravenov: Zdravstvuyte. If you do not know who I am, it is fine. That is preferred. It means I am still good at my job. But now. We must trust one another. There is no time for cloak and dagger. My name is Sergei Ravenov. What is happening now - I have experienced it before. Many times. I am told I am expert. It is... not true. Thanks to others - I am a survivor. There are... things out there you have not trained for. Could never train for. Understand, they are flesh and bone - they can be killed. Rely on your comared, keep your resolve. Do not succumb to fear. There is a way to stop this... There is always a way. We find it together, da?
Barrera: (chuckles) --don't know why they thought I couldn't work a radio on my own. Okay... Okay, uno mas - and then I transmit it for real. (laughes) I got this. In Venezuela, rock formations called tepuis soar 10,000 feet above the rainforest. Their plateaus are said to be among the most remote ecological islands on Earth. Many have never been visited by humans. My name is Doctor Hugo Barrera. I hold of PhD. in Exogeology, and I've been assigned to Operation Deadbolt as your chief scientific officer. I spent three years atop the tepuis of Venezuela studying their unique geology and endemic life. At the time, I thought it was the closest I could get to experiencing alien conditions on this planet. I was wrong. What we see out there in the Exclusion Zone - what you face every day - it is not from this world. But that does not mean we cannot study it... Hm? Catalogue it. Break it down into its pieces, hold it up to the light, and perhaps, come to understand it. I have dedicated my life to studying the unstudiable. My fervent hope is that here in the EZ, my knowledge will of some use to field operatives like you. And together, we can save lives. Ho, hohoho that was good Barrera! Who has a problem with public speaking now, Professor Alonso? Ha! Okay - okay, now for the real thing. Wai-wait, is this on- But it can't- This entire- Ay miercoles-
Fang: This is Fang to base - I'm flying recon over the EZ and- Holy crapola.
Dobbs: (chuckles) Watch it Fang, - your Minnesotan's showing.
Fang: Shut the fuck up, Dobbs.
Dobbs: Yeah, sure, you betcha.
Fang: Would you just shut up and listen for a second? It's looking... not great down there and I need you to take this seriously.
Dobbs: Uhha, yes ma'am, that's a solid copy.
Fang: I'm seeing a substantial increase in portal activity across the area...
Dobbs: Okay define "substantial".
Fang: Like, at least a dozen have popped up since I started my patrol. And I'm seeing HVTs all over the EZ - the big, nasty kind Miller's always going on about.
Dobbs: Oh man, okay - listen. RTB and I'll set overwatch on the remainder of your route. Fill Barrera in on what you've seen. I'll keep my eye on the margins - make sure it isn't expanding.
Fang: Yeah, okay.
Dobbs: I'm sorry, I need a better confirmation than that.
Fang: Yeah, sure, you betcha. RTB.
Dobbs: Haha - out.
Greene: This is Taskforce Leader, Selma Greene. I thought it was about time I checked in. I hear you're already putting in work. That's good, there's plenty to go around - and it's no going to slow down anytime soon. I assume you've heard enough about me to know I am the one they send when shit goes south. As a member of Operation Deadbolt, I expect nothing less than your absolute best. People are counting on us - there is no room for error. Moving forward, it is vital that you function as a part of this team. There's no other way we win this. I don't have the time for 'lone wolves'. As for the rest of the operation - we've got the best and brightest. So when they say something - make sure you're listening. I'll be in touch - in the meantime, do your level best to stay alive. Greene, out.
Miller: Alright, Mimics. Let me start by saying I hate 'em. They scare the shit outta me. Weapons: Tentacles. They'll slap you or pull you in close so the ugly suckers can take a bite outta ya. They have long, creepy legs, great for chasin' ya, and they will. Aaand it gets worse... these critters shapeshift! You heard that right. Shapeshift! There's footage of a seemingly normal supply crate sprouting tentacle then yanking a soldier inside! They don't fight fair, damn it! We can't just unload into any inanimate object that looks at us funny. But they do have a pattern. They like to nestle into clutter. Places where they can keep you guessing. Wait for it to go into its natural state before you start shooting. They're tough nuts on the outside. But inside that yapper is nothing but soft tissue - easy to shred. I'm done talking about these creeps. Go hunt 'em into extinction.
Terminus Outcomes[]
Audio Logs[]
Fletcher: Fletcher here. We got a contract coming down the line that's gonna change everything. It's a huge operation. All hands on deck. This dag is paying through the nose. Well, he's after some crazy element from elsewhere. I've seen what it's capable of. Volatile - it's powerful stuff. No, there's heaps of this shit. Supply won't be a problem. Well, I don't know. I'm no scientist, but I know a gift when I smell it. I'm not above an early retirement. Look, look, look - I know you've got people you can talk to about this sorta thing. I'm sending you a package with some samples. Take a look. Tell me if you think there's a market for it, and what we might stand to make. Your cut? Greedy bastard. 15%, same as ever.
Fletcher: Listen up, you shits! I'm only gonna say this once. We're about to enter the outbreak zone - that means no fucking around. Whatever you've heard about these scodey bastards is none of your concern. You are here to earn a paycheck - which means following the contract to the letter. Wander off, engage with anything outside of this unit, or make the grievous error of voicing your contrary opinion - consequences will be swift and merciless. And if anyone pulls any shit that undermines the legitimacy of Terminus Outcomes, you will be terminated in every last sense of the word. Alright, speech over. Let's move out.
This Audio Log is always found inside an active Mercenary Stronghold when "Legacy" Baranov is the current Warlord.
Fletcher: Legacy- Baranov, let me pour you a drink.
Fletcher can be heard pouring liquid into a glass of ice.
Legacy: Perhaps another time, sir. I must return to my-
Fletcher: -that wasn't a request. Now sit down and drink.
Legacy can be heard pulling up a chair.
Legacy: Scotch would not have been my first choice.
Fletcher: Yeah. I suppose you'd have preferred vodka?
Legacy: I'm surprised a man of your standing would resort to stereotypes.
Legacy takes a sip of scotch.
Legacy: Whiskey is my drink of choice. It is a culmination of delicate flavors all working together to create a beautifully complex symphony... whereas vodka is one flat note farted out through a tin whistle.
Fletcher laughs.
Fletcher: I'll tell you what - you help me get the fuck out of Urzikstan - and I'll buy you heaps of whatever poison you drink.
Legacy grunts.
Fletcher: You know, you've got no idea what a relief it is to finally have a professional in this bloody operation. I'm constantly flanked by grunts and yes-men on one side... and completely sus whack-jobs, like Zakhaev, on the other. Somehow, every last one of them is completely useless. But you - you know what it means to command. How to lead troops and gain their loyalty - their respect. I swear, under anyone else's watch, they'd all be found dead with their pants down and their thumbs up their arses.
Legacy: That's quite the mental image - but I get what you're saying.
Legacy takes another swig, finishing his drink.
Fletcher: Let me - let me pour you another.
Zakhaev: I miss you, Father. You will have the legacy you deserve... I'll see to it. What we've unleashed here is only the beginning... those who stood in our way will be... eliminated. Permanently... Our resourced are limited but my will is endless. Once we have enough enriched Aetherium to his our targets: London, Paris, Washington, D.C..... we sit back, and watch them tear each other apart.
Jansen: Received a surprise visit from our CEO. He's not what I expected. I've operated in alternative energy circles a long time. Never heard of Mr. Zakhaev until recently. He doesn't fit the profile. No idealistic mission statement. No inspirational speeches. And his security... it's overkill. It's an army. All I got was a firm handshake and a thorough interrogation of my work. He's clearly interested in Aetherium, but I don't think energy is his endgame. With this level of funding I shouldn't be surprised if he has other pursuits. I could analyze his motives forever, but the reality is I have no other path forward. The advances I'll make here will be groundbreaking. He's a necessity for now. Hopefully this is just the behavior of an eccentric rich man. But it feels like his plot is thicker than that.
Zakhaev: Captain. Jonathan. Price. How long before we meet again? How long till I am face to face... with the man who taught me the meaning of loss? (sips) I can't help but wonder... did they give you a medal for "killing me" in Verdansk? And if so... will you give it back? (drinks again) Remember your last words to me? "I won't kill you. But the fall will." Heh. Must have felt good - tossing me down in that missile silo, into the darknes... like trash. And I have spent every day since counting the ways I can repay you. I am a patient man, Captain. I won't rest until everyone you care about is eliminated. (takes another sip) So imagine my pleasure to find your protege, "Soap" MacTavish, embedded with Operation Deadbolt. Oh... oh, losing him. That would be like losing a brother. Oh, yeah, the thought of it is... exhilarating. Da, Captain Price. I will show you what loss is. After all, I learned from the best. (takes a final sip before pouring his drink again)
Zakhaev: Viper Zero to all Terminus. If you value your paycheck, I recommend you listen intently. We've added a new asset to the Urzikstan operation. Her name is Dr. Jansen. The good doctor will serve as the chief scientific authority on the materials we are recovering. Be advised: you will protect her with your lives - her survival is critical to your success. Jansen is an advisor and a non combatant. She is to wear full body armor when downrange. Should the situation become... kinetic - move her to an armored transport and out of harms way immediately. Our combat loadout is need to know. Dr. Jansen does not need to know... maintain a non aggressive posture around her at all times. Do not "socialize" with the pretty scientist. She is exceedingly intelligent and smarter than most of you put together. You will return the Dr. and the cargo fully intact... no mistakes, no exceptions. Those are your orders... follow them.
Fletcher: Jack Fletcher - client conversation regarding Terminus contract 75819 - commencing.
Zakhaev: Why are are you recording?
Fletcher: For quality assurance.
Zakhaev: I assume you have questions.
Fletcher: This shit you're after, I need to know what it does.
Zakhaev: Aetherium? It is none of your concern.
Fletcher: Will it harm my men?
Zakhaev: Nyet. If they are smart, they should be fine.
Fletcher: Great. So half are going home in body bags.
Zakhaev scoffs.
Fletcher: We need to renegotiate thee contract. If there's a market for this, I know people - buyers. We could stand to make a lot of money.
Zakhaev: Money is of no concern.
Fletcher: Then you won't mind parting with it.
Fletcher: Oy! Shut your yaps and pay attention. There's been a change of plans - Zakhaev is no longer in the equation. So we are going to focus on increasing our payday. As of right now we are strictly here to extract Aetherium. Buyers are lined up. Each of you stand to make more than those government hacks will ever see in their lifetimes. We're going to mine what we can before this place gets too hot to operate. But, you lot need to up your game. Deadbolt have been thinning our numbers far too efficiently. And once they figure out we've shifted gears, it's gonna get worse. So, bearing that in mind, don't be shy with the heavy artillery. Gloves are off, let's get paid.
This Audio Log is always found inside an active Mercenary Stronghold when Ari "Dokkaebi" is the current Warlord.
Dobbs: Alright! Everything looks good from here. Drone is Bingo Fuel. Returning to base-
Dokkaebi: -Hey, Stretch, how's the weather up there?
Dobbs: What the...? Who the hell is this?
Dokkaebi: You know - you should really consider joining the private sector. You wouldn't have to debase yourself with that piece-of-shit tin can you're flying.
Dobbs: Lady, I don't know what you're playing at, but you better get off this channel or you're gonna have the US Government right up your-
Dokkaebi: -I'm not worried about Uncle Sam. He's too busy acutioning off 'The American Dream' piece by piece, to care about little old me.
Dobbs: I'm warning you. Get off-
Dokkaebi: -Lucas Dobbs. Born in Kokomo, Indiana, to Judy and Keith Dobbs on May 24th, 1995. Wow. Looks like the US Air Force has been a Dobbs family tradition for generations. Aww... too bad you outgreat the opportunity. Literally.
Dobbs: Jokes on you, smartass. I got a lock on your signal. Prepare to- Wh... What the fuck?
Dokkaebi: Missing something? "Oh no! Where's my target acquisition? I could have sworn I had it a moment ago."
Dobbs: How the hell did you-
This Audio Log is always found inside an active Mercenary Stronghold when Sona "Keres" Mirzoyan is the current Warlord.
Keres: Doctor Mirozyan personal log entry 8. I thought I had been to every dark corner of this globe. Playing my part in deciding the outcomes of dirty wars and clandestine proxy conflicts. But this place, this situation... is special. I'm not bound by red tape. The Deadbolt hostages have proven themselves to be ideal test subjects. And there's no one to cry about morality. Aetherium injects chaos into everything it touches. So eager to bind to our molecules and bend them to its will. Results from my initial inhalant compound are very promising. Mortality rates are 100% within 1 minute of exposure. At autopsy, crystalline growths found in the cadavers alveoli suggest some kind of rapid organic mutation at work. Further tests have already been scheduled. The money is good, Fletcher hopes to buy my loyalty, but he is merely a stepping stone. You can't buy these circumstances. The chemical agents I develop here will rock the foundations of my field. That is the true prize.Jack Fletcher: When Zakhaev tucked tail and ran, he left enough crap to fill a skip. The only bits that aren't total garbage are files from a group called 'Omega'. These people were freaks. Whack-jobs. Their scientists did some seriously fucked up shit - all in the name of "Mother Russia". But they got results - even if it was the stuff of nightmares. Now, according to their notes - that place beyond the rifts - what they call the Dark Aether - is a treasure trove just waiting for us to slap a price tag on it. Now I'm looking for a dozen of you lot to travel with me into a rift. If this mission goes as planned, it will be the biggest payday in Terminus Outcomes' history. Those of you who choose to volunteer will stand to make a very cool thirty-five percent more than those who don't. Now if you can't do that math - ask a friend for help. So - who's with me?
This Audio Log is always found inside an active Mercenary Stronghold when Rainmaker is the current Warlord.
Rainmaker: (talking through his helmet) What can I do for you, Fletcher?Fletcher: Been looking at your requisition orders - your head count looks light.
Rainmaker: (removes his helmet and smokes) I assure you it's not.
Fletcher: Deadbolt is a multi-government operation - well funded. You're not going to hold the manor with so few hands.
Rainmaker: (laughs) The big commander thinks that me, a Cubano, doesn't know how to fortify an island? Este tipo. N-n-no. Th-th-this is too many mouths talking back, making problems- N-n-no. This manor will be my fortress. Anyone stationed here will have to memorize every inch of my defenses, or 'boom' they're gonna be mist. I don't need a bunch of heads blocking my view when those Deadbolts get torn apart. I've got mortars, mines, traps, things they've never seen. Assuming anyone even makes it onto this rock, they so much as put one foot out of place, they're done. Finished. They won't find enough to bury.
Fletcher: Yeah well, you know what the consequences are if you fail.
Rainmaker: (smokes) I don't fail. (puts his helmet back) If you've manpower to spare, send them to Legacy. You know how much he enjoys marching his troops up and down.
Radios[]
Watkins: You ready for the briefing?
Scoresby: Oh, shit! Shit! No one told me.
Jones: Really, Scoresby?
Scoresby: Just... don't tell Fletcher I forgot, okay? I wanna stay off his radar.
Watkins: Oh, that's cute. Little bunny's scared.
Scoresby: I'm not scared. I've just... heard things. Like, did you know, he once pushed a guy out of a helicopter? Poor bastard feel 500 feet and... (whistles) SPLAT. Ground chuck.
Jones: You're taking the piss.
Scoresby: I'm telling you, guys. The man is not to be trifled with.
Jones: (chuckles) Who the fuck says, 'trifled'?
Watkins: Yeah well, I call bullshit. Fletcher would never do that.
Jones: I wouldn't put it past him.
Scoresby: Thank you, Jones. Thank you very much.
Jones: Oh no, don't change the fact you're still chicken-shit, Scoresby.
Watkins laughes
Scoresby: So, burning question, guys. What's everyone think of Fletcher?
Jones: He's off his head.
Scoresby: Hahaha! And that's coming from an expert.
Jones: Whatever. I can't help that the man's a nutter.
Watkins: Oh, fuck off, Jones. Fletcher's the only reason you're still alive.
Jones: You're full of shit, Watkins.
Watkins: What about the time with the landmines?
Jones: That was blind luck and you know it.
Watkins: The guy with the bowie knife?
Jones: Caught me by surprise, is all.
Watkins: Peru?
Jones grunts
Jones: What's up your arse today, Watkins?
Watkins: Up my ass? What the hell are you talking about?
Jones: Come off it mate. You were downright twitchy at breakfast. Scoresby, back me up.
Scoresby: Oh, it's true - you got quiet - totally shut down. What were we even on about this morning?
Jones: We were talking shit about Fletcher.
Scoresby: Watkins? Watkins, you copy?
Watkins: You shouldn't trash Fletcher.
Jones: You actually buy into his bullshit?
Watkins: It's not bullshit. We've fought literal nightmares out there and his strategies kept us alive. We're gonna be rich, and that's all him. Given the choice, I'd still pick him for command. And I trust him a hell of a lot more than you two.
Jones: Well, ta-dee-fucking-daa.