Hecatoncheires
un jour je serai de retour près de toi
Original poster
DONATING MEMBER
FOLKLORE MEMBER
"There are no roads in or out of Dunwich; the Ministry of Defence took over the entire village back in 1940 and redirected the local lanes, erasing it from the map and from the collective consciousness of Norfolk as if it never existed. Ramblers are repulsed by the thick hedges that surround us on two sides and the cliff that protects its third flank. When the Laundry inherited Dunwich from MI5, they added subtle wards; anyone approaching cross-country will begin to develop a deep sense of unease a mile or so outside the perimeter. As it is, the only way in or out is by boat – and our watery friends will take care of any unwelcome visitors smaller than a nuclear submarine."
- Charles Stross, 'The Atrocity Archives'
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DUNWICH
SUFFOLK COAST
DAY ONE OF FIELD AGENT ORIENTATION (FAORI101)
16:31
The rain's as incessant as it is half-arsed. It's not really even heavy enough to be called rain, more just a constant drizzle that makes the very air itself feel like liquid vapours. It seeps into everything; into my shoes, through my socks, past the waterproof jacket I thought I was so very clever for packing. Judging by the expressions of the group I'm with, they're probably as unimpressed with the weather as I am.
We're huddled together on one of the cliffs a short distance from the main village, standing in front of a small shooting range set up to face out onto the sea. Sensible placement, really: any stray shots aren't going anywhere other than out into open ocean. At our head, sourly surveying our small party of damp Laundry operatives, is our trainer for this particular session. Sergeant Laine, the definition of a grizzled old war veteran who's now found himself instructing the likes of us in the finer arts of firearms, survival and evasion. I get the impression he's not overly happy about this assignment, but Laine's a British soldier through-and-through: he'll suffer in stoic silence... so long as he can make us suffer a bit as well.
Hence why we're standing on a cliff in the pissing rain.
"Right," Laine grunts, opening the metal case at his feet and withdrawing a small metallic object, "this this is a Glock 17. Standard sidearm of CO19, the Met's firearms unit, and also the standard firearm issued to Laundry officers. Here is how you use it. You keep your finger off the trigger, then you stick the bloody thing in your pocket and phone the professionals. If you actually have to fire a gun in the line of duty, then someone has fucked up royally and it is probably you. Since we have to deal with every eventuality, however, including royal fuck-ups, I'll be taking you through the weapon. Everyone grab a handgun from the case and line up at the shooting range."
Our group shuffles forward, trying to remain huddled for warmth as each of us reaches down and takes one of the Glocks. I turn my own weapon over in my hands, suddenly wishing I had gloves on. The polymer material its made from is cold to the touch, chilling my fingers even further as I stop in front of the range. This isn't the first time I've received Laundry weapons training, but since I have to re-qualify as a field agent I'm nonetheless back to square one all the same. Sighing and trying not to dwell too much on the fact that I can no longer feel my toes, I step up to the bay in front of me and glance over at Laine.
"Okay," he calls as he stares around at our group, "anyone here used one of these things before?"
SUFFOLK COAST
DAY ONE OF FIELD AGENT ORIENTATION (FAORI101)
16:31
The rain's as incessant as it is half-arsed. It's not really even heavy enough to be called rain, more just a constant drizzle that makes the very air itself feel like liquid vapours. It seeps into everything; into my shoes, through my socks, past the waterproof jacket I thought I was so very clever for packing. Judging by the expressions of the group I'm with, they're probably as unimpressed with the weather as I am.
We're huddled together on one of the cliffs a short distance from the main village, standing in front of a small shooting range set up to face out onto the sea. Sensible placement, really: any stray shots aren't going anywhere other than out into open ocean. At our head, sourly surveying our small party of damp Laundry operatives, is our trainer for this particular session. Sergeant Laine, the definition of a grizzled old war veteran who's now found himself instructing the likes of us in the finer arts of firearms, survival and evasion. I get the impression he's not overly happy about this assignment, but Laine's a British soldier through-and-through: he'll suffer in stoic silence... so long as he can make us suffer a bit as well.
Hence why we're standing on a cliff in the pissing rain.
"Right," Laine grunts, opening the metal case at his feet and withdrawing a small metallic object, "this this is a Glock 17. Standard sidearm of CO19, the Met's firearms unit, and also the standard firearm issued to Laundry officers. Here is how you use it. You keep your finger off the trigger, then you stick the bloody thing in your pocket and phone the professionals. If you actually have to fire a gun in the line of duty, then someone has fucked up royally and it is probably you. Since we have to deal with every eventuality, however, including royal fuck-ups, I'll be taking you through the weapon. Everyone grab a handgun from the case and line up at the shooting range."
Our group shuffles forward, trying to remain huddled for warmth as each of us reaches down and takes one of the Glocks. I turn my own weapon over in my hands, suddenly wishing I had gloves on. The polymer material its made from is cold to the touch, chilling my fingers even further as I stop in front of the range. This isn't the first time I've received Laundry weapons training, but since I have to re-qualify as a field agent I'm nonetheless back to square one all the same. Sighing and trying not to dwell too much on the fact that I can no longer feel my toes, I step up to the bay in front of me and glance over at Laine.
"Okay," he calls as he stares around at our group, "anyone here used one of these things before?"
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