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"Why is this place so small?"

Agent Rucker thought to himself as he strolled down the hallway. Site-121 was but a couple of shacks compared to every other site he had seen. Three hangars, a short runway only 2 kilometers in length and barely wide enough for a fighter of any size…South of the airfield lies four small buildings each only a single story in height…To the east lies a garage and workshop, the only other structures being a few watch towers and assorted radar equipment. Rucker continued down the hallway. "Let's see…". He looked at a sheet of paper pulled from his pockets.

"Room 18…" He muttered to himself,looking at the doors on either side of him as he walked. "16…17…18." He grumbles, opening the old metal door.

A classroom.

He looked around the room, 7 other agents sat in large desks, trying to occupy themselves some how. The room was quite bare, plain white walls, a pair of bay windows on the wall opposite of him, a few bookshelves with random dusty books. With a heavy sigh, Rucker picks a seat next to blonde girl in her 30's, her face buried in a book. He settles in the hard chair of the desk and pulls the crumpled orders from his pocket. " Room 18, instructional building. Be there at 7:00 on the dot." Rucker glances at his watch. 7:12 am. "Guess the teacher's late.." He leans back in his desk, recalling what caused him to be stuck here…

It was a standard search and recover op, nothing new. Who could have known that the damn church would show up, armed for war too…How could they fight tanks with standard gear? Dug in and low on ammo, it was Ruckers' choice to destroy the object of interest. A little glass ball that could produce iron from air, it shattered easily with a strike from the butt of his rifle. At that point he didn't care what happened to him, just keeping it away from the church was all he could think about. Ironic that minutes after that, back-up arrived, and guess who took the fall for destroying the object? Ol' Rucker himself. Two weeks after he gets a letter from the higher-ups.

"For your fearless service and performance in your previous mission, we have decided through a unanimous vote that you will be transferred to a new task force worthy of your heroism."

Yeah right. Well his heroism got him stuck in some no-name task force, on a no-name site, in the middle of nowhere.

There was a distinct sound that rang through the building, a distant clanking noise that sounded like heavy iron footsteps. Rucker sits up in his seat, so does every other agent in the room. The steps grow louder…other sounds become apparent;steel grinding on steel, cogs clacking together, joints squeaking from a lack of oil. The door to the class is flung open, with all the agents watching in anticipation. Rucker stares as a metal dragon walks into the room. It stands at almost 3 meters in height on all fours, its bends its long neck down to fit through the door. Steel wings are tucked to its sides and its tail swishes idly as it sits on its hind behind the teachers desk at the front of the room.

"Good to see you all made it, my name is Sorth and I will be your instructor for today and every day after."

Its voice was odd, it sounded as if it was being played over an old phonograph, the dragons jaws didn't move when it spoke. Rucker had seen his fair share of oddities, 4 years of search and recover allows you to see a lot of odd things, although he had never really seen or met anomalous staff or agents before.

"Now then, if you're here that means one thing. You pissed someone off and rather than filling out the proper paperwork for a memory wipe and integration, they just sent you here to die. Welcome to MTF Omicron-13, "The Reckless". I'm sure some of you are highly decorated while others are still green, well each of you screwed up and ended up here. In my eyes that makes you all equal."

Rucker leaned back is chair. "Great, nothing like a war speech to motivate your new troops…" He thought to himself sarcastically while Sorth continued.

"I'll cut to the chase. You will all die here."

A look of surprise casts itself over every agents face, even Rucker.

"Omicron-13 is an MTF that is considered disposable by the higher ups, therefore we have an odd setup, we have three VTOLs and two centurion tanks at our disposal, but almost no standard personal gear. See, we get all the prototype gear the foundation wants to test, without sacrificing actual valued agents and MTFs. So they send us the experimental stuff and send us on missions almost no other MTF can handle. Why am I telling you, a bunch of brand new transfers, this classified info? We don't exist officially in the foundation, your names are struck from the records and you're stuck here for as long as you live. The only thing that can save you now is an order from O5, so get cozy, you're going to be here for a while."

Rucker couldn't believe what he was hearing, four years of flawless missions and one slip-up lands him here?

"So what do we do besides die on impossible missions and test unstable weapons? Its our job to solve an impossible problem when it arises, no matter the cost, so naturally we have high casualties here…don't get attached to people. We number 50 in all, not counting site staff. Your life expectancy? About 3 months, so don't get too comfortable until you get past those first three months. Now I know you must all have questions, like how did this mechanical asshole become site director? Why the hell am I here? What will I tell my wife? All these questions will be answered in due time, but now we begin orientation so please follow me."

Orientation went smoothly. Sorth guided the new agents around Site-121. It turns out the site is much larger than it looks, numerous containment cells, labs, and facilities lie underground. The barracks are three buildings on the surface while the last building was the instructional building. Rucker sat on his new bed. It was soft and rather spacious compared to other barracks commodities, hell this was the first time he had been given his own room. Apparently all MTF agents get their own room here, to help boost morale.

"Now then, you all have the day off, take this time to get settled into your quarters. We begin rapid courses tomorrow at 0600."

Rucker remembered Sorth's instructions. Something was off about Sorth…he was to bright and optimistic about all this. Rucker glanced at his watch. 5:43 pm. It was still too early to sleep…maybe dinner. He stands and makes his way out of his room, heading down a hallway to an elevator to the lower facilities.