**Author:** SLDH8MM3R --- ***The following log was uploaded to the EXODUS ARCHIVES on 06/12/42. Written by Diane Martha Kirkby and published by Tauno Jutt.*** **Exposure. 3rd December 2042.** Nesting left of the Yukon River amongst the territory of the indigenous nations of the Champagne and Aishihik peoples has become the site of a tense standoff between Russia and America with Russia claiming that a landslide has exposed the operating base for an experimental weapon whilst America dismisses the claim that it’s anything more than a weather station. This ‘weather station’ has been tied to a number of leaks relating to an incident within the town of Goerlitz where crashed satellites holding valuable data have been found by No-Pat dataminers. This incident is covered in the Reed Report: Intel Wars episode, the main takeaway was a US led operation called Operation Steadfast Refuge has links to this supposed station and has been scouted out by Russian-loyalist No-pats and brief flybys via drone before being destroyed by anti-air for any proof of a wonder weapon. They got that proof on the 1st of December when a landslide and a supposed gunfight within the facility revealed a base capable of transferring orbital weapons and coordinating global operations. The Black Ridge facility was a front for America’s largest experiments since the New Mexico atomic test. ![[songbird-exposure.png]] A recent member amongst the Exodus and identified as one of the Polish No-pats within the capsule recording, Ewelina Lis, sheds more light on Steadfast Refuge and the incident at the Black Ridge facility. **\[AUDIO-TEXT TRANSCRIPT OF EXPOSURE #1 INTERVIEW]** KIRKBY: “You’ve told me that you were at ground zero of the Goerlitz, being identified as one of the non-patriated that extracted a few data drives before the lockdown came into effect. For starters, how did you know that sensitive US intelligence would be landing within the area?” LIS: “Where any No-Pat goes for their dirty deeds, the Dark Market. You pay for a set of coordinates and a time of impact, get to the location, wait until splashdown and survive long enough to extract before the occupant forces tighten their grip on the hazard zone.” KIRKBY: “You’re saying the Dark Market has accurate intelligence that allows them to preemptively plan capsule splashdowns before even the ground troops know?” LIS: “They’ll always know, if they can’t bribe they’ll threaten or harm someone into giving them information. They have some very important people on very short leashes.” KIRKBY: “Back to the contents of the capsule, you spoke about ‘Operation Steadfast Refuge?’ What is it?” LIS: “An experimental super weapon, an orbital satellite capable of devastation. It’s malfunction is what caused the blackout, the time and date of the logged failure matches to the minute with the date of the blackout. I know, it’s been burned into my mind.” **\[END OF TRANSCRIPT]** Shortly after the Goerlitz incident and the leak thereafter, Lis also tells me about an attack supposedly committed by the Dark Market to steal key information within the project; the exact details of the leaked information remain unknown. With the context of hearing about what the facility held, having the Dark Market in possession of a potentially dangerous weapon that could send the world back into the dark ages is a harrowing prospect. The US is on damage control, locking down ground and airspace claiming that it’s preparing for an attack from Russian-backed No-pats whilst in reality it’s a quarantine for a crime scene with the occupants forces scraping up any fraction of evidence to prove a lead to the culprit. To cover this story from the inside perspective of this massive controversy, we have a guardsman who has agreed to talk to us about the situation from a US perspective. Their name has been omitted for privacy purposes. ![[songbird-exposure-2.png]] **\[AUDIO-TEXT TRANSCRIPT OF EXPOSURE #2 INTERVIEW]** GUARDSMAN: “This’ll be off the record right? Nobody will know that it’s me?” KIRKBY: “Your voice will be run through an algorithm that’ll make your voice completely untraceable. Now, tell me how the base is reacting to the reports of false claims by the US and the Data leak.” GUARDSMAN: “Sheesh Lady! Okay. Not even the people who get transferred here know what it is until they take a trip underground, they get you to sign wavers that give them the right to dishonourably discharge you for even saying a peep to family over a video call. This whole situation has put everyone under scrutiny, especially with the G-men breathing down your neck.” KIRKBY: “I assume you’re talking about Noah Wolff? We’ve been acquainted, he was contacting our ship whilst we investigated the compound post-attack GUARDSMAN: “Shit! You’re the stray dogs that attacked our men!” KIRKBY: “Call us that again, \[REDACTED], and I let it slip that you’re the one who leaked the data about the capsules and the station. Considering your bosses are running around like chickens, a scrawny scapegoat like yourself sounds like a juicy sacrificial lamb. Now, answer. The goddamn. Question.” GUARDSMAN: “CHRIST! ALRIGHT! I was deployed overground on a quick scouting convoy when the alarms started to blare so we booked it back to the site. When we got there the whole place had been turned upside down and some of the geeks and soldiers were already cold; that’s when we saw the No-pats. We fired upon them and a couple got away.” KIRKBY: “And you think those were the people who took out all of your underground guards with one swoop? Surely you’re talking about highly professional paid contractors.” GUARDSMAN: “I saw what I saw. No more fucking questions.” **\[END OF INTERVIEW]** Apologies for my unprofessional response but sometimes you have to twist an arm to make someone squeal. The standoff between Russia, America and an unconfirmed third faction has got the world in a chokehold; ready to snuff out each other with the press of a button. Hopefully what was on that data and what it will be used for will shed some light within the coming months. This is Diane Kirkby, and I thank you for tuning into the Exodus Archives. <br> **EXPOSURE. “Business as Usual”** **British Columbia. 1st December 2042.** When the squad had already got there, alarms blared and the smoldering rubble from the landslide stretched towards the sky. The Nightbird carrying the team of Irish, Angel, Sundance, and Kirkby had more ease landing closer to the facility as it seemed anti-air had been disabled; some way to protect the US’s dirty secrets. The smoke filled Kirkby’s nostrils and caused her to wince as she exhaled the smoke, as she cleared her nose from the soot in the air, Sundance teased the recon’s constitution with smoke. “What’s wrong Birdie? Thought you could handle a little smoke? Must not be wanting those cartons you stole.” The cigarette cartons were the jackpot of a recreational poker night that thankfully Paik wasn’t around to fleece the other players for everything they got. Diane earned them fair and square with her wits and hidden tells, at least before she got her game face on she could rub Sundance’s lost bet back in their face. “I’ll be keeping them, a couple to smoke and the rest as bargaining chips for some real competition.” The pair’s relationship was always playful, becoming good friends during the escape from Doha and bonding over their tattoos and music tastes. Emma was all about fast and loud whereas Kirkby preferred slow and quiet, they were oil and water but worked like a charm. As the two joked about their gambling, Irish broke from his stoic silence as he coordinated the infiltration once the boots were on the ground. His dark eyes watched the wind spread the blades of grass and flick the seed pods into the air. “Listen up, squad. Intel says that this is the site of Operation Steadfast refuge, it’s hot off the comms networks so we only have a short while to figure out what it is and why Oz needed it so badly. We’ll breach through the fence and take the vehicle elevator down to the offices before securing the server room.” The plan seemed simple enough for a high intensity infiltration, the sounds of gunfire off in the distance confirmed they were only a small faction at play in this battle. The grapple guns and BSV-Ms told Kirby that with this tricky hardware came a trickier battle, usually they infiltrated before a mixed occupant presence but this time they’d be in the thick of a fight; ‘Business as usual’ Kirkby thought as she picked up her rifle from the case and loaded her magazine into it. The slow descent gave chance for Kirkby to breathe calmly before the incursion, though she had been in and out of hazard zones for the past couple months, it had been decades without being deep in a military conflict and longer still being up close and personal with the enemy. She breathed through her nose as she slid her visor over her face and opened them in readiness for the invasion. Once the team had touched down, they collected their equipment and prepared for a two kilometre journey through the deep fern woods towards the facility nestled deep within the rocky cliffs of Black Ridge. The wind carried a current of howling gushes that whispered into the ears of the specialists, Irish and Sundance thought nothing of the wind whereas Angel and Kirkby listened to the sounds and theorised their meaning. “Hey Diane. You hear that? Sounds like people talking don’t you think?” Angel questioned as he moved through the tall grass. Diane interjected with her own thoughts. “We are deep in indigenous territory, many warriors died fighting colonialism on the ground we walk on.” Angel listened, though confused, he inquired once more. “Yeah but, do you think they’re talking to us? Warning us not to go into battle?” Kirkby thought he was having second thoughts because of superstitions about the land, so she tried to assure him it was safe. “These people died fighting for a home, they probably think that we’re just following in their footsteps.” Angel fell silent as he turned his ears back to the hollow howling of the trees, warning or not, walking amongst the path of warriors was only more invigorating. The trek towards the fence was quiet as war raged on in the background. When they arrived at the weather station, the battle between US Marines and a Russian invasion force was in full swing with every blade of grass soaked in a mixture of blood. It wasn’t their fight, what they wanted was deep inside. As they approached the fence for a breaching point, Sundance called over their radio and pointed towards an abnormality in the chain link fence. “We’re not the only ones making an unexpected cameo, keep your eyes open.” The wire had been cut and the electrics disabled internally, whoever they were up against had some serious strings to pull to get someone to power down the fences. Nevertheless it made their job easier, moving through the wire and past the radar array. They crossed the battlefield quietly as more trucks from the far west side of the compound carried troops towards the front lines as sacrifices to American interests. Snaking through containers and parked civilian vehicles, they found themselves standing before the vehicle elevator with the contents bare and ready to be used; it felt all too smooth for something so dangerous, sneaking around an active warzone. Irish took point to usher them into the elevator before instructing Angel to take them down to the underground facilities floors, when he pressed the switch the lift began to metallically whine before closing its doors to the rest of the battlefield. The hard part was over, hopefully it would be easier. As the elevator descended down the shaft, the shooters would take hidden positions behind the door frame with Irish on Angel’s flank and Sundance on Kirkby’s. Emma gave Diane a gentle squeeze on her shoulder to let them know they were there, to which she turned the gesture by tapping their hand twice as she kept her eyes on the door. When the gate opened, they were met by two Marines who were kneeling over a group of his dead comrades and assessing their wounds. Before the Marines could remove the slinged M5A3s from their chests, Angel and Kirkby shot first with Angel’s clean shot to the chest and Kirkby landing her shot between one of their eyes. The bodies fell limp as Irish listened out for anyone who could’ve spotted the shots, after a moment of silence, Irish and Sundance took point and pied their corners until they came towards the security gate with a metal detector. When Kirkby and Angel finally joined them, they realised why the pair had stopped after they turned the corner. A security guard slumped in his chair with his brains and blood splattered over the back wall and another woman in formal attire laid deceased between both sides of the scanner. Kirkby took a knee beside the body and analysed the three bullets in her back and one in her skull, whoever came through here was thorough that there would be no witnesses. She searched the lab coat on the dead body and pulled out a keycard slathered in blood and cleaned it off to be used on the security terminals should the need arise. Irish took point as he vaulted over the railing to avoid the metal detectors from going off and alerting anyone else in the building. The others followed behind and kept their eyes on the corners of the office cubicles in the off-chance someone wanted retribution for the attack. Unfortunately there would be nobody left alive to do so. Bloody bodies laid limb in the stalls, on the chairs and in the walkways in a pool of emassing blood which soaked the combat boots of the Exodus team. Angel and Kirkby held their lunch in their stomachs as they stepped over the corpses, the bodies were warm and still gushing with blood even as they continued to slowly decay. ‘Who would shoot these people in the back willingly?’ The thought echoed in her mind and made her lose focus of what was ahead of her, her consciousness came back to her as she stumbled over a fallen corpse; however the body wasn’t of a scientist or a marine, but a No-pat mercenary. Irish kneeled down next to the body and searched for identification, a identification card or dog tags from when they belonged to a nation. Irish turned the body over and took the dog tag from the corpse to analyse it, the name on the tag was polish and the tattoos on the body corroborated the theory. A thousand questions flooded their minds. Who were they loyal to? Were they looking for the same thing? How many different factions were down here? Their theorising was cut short as they heard echoes of American infantry coming from their rear, already half-way around the corner as the team raised their arms towards the entrance of the offices. With the littering of bodies and the living no-pats kneeling over a dead corpse, the American squad leader put two-and-two together and unclipped his M5A3 from his chest and yelled out to his squad. “OPEN FIRE! ICE THESE FUCKING STRAYS!” The bullets rattled as they left their chambers; piercing the stalls, computers, dead bodies and stone columns in a desperate attempt to kill the squad that had infiltrated their base. The five US soldiers approached the office stalls as visual cover so they could move freely, all the while the Exodus team moved behind a variety of cover with Irish and Kirkby behind the pillar adjacent to the polish no-pat as Angel and Sundance used the stalls as cover. The deadly whisper from the BDV-M’s smoking barrel hissed through the thin cover of the wooden dividers and caught one of the marines in his thigh, a groan of pain turned into a cry of despair as he held his leg; a greenhorn who’s first unlucky encounter was with professionally trained rats. The medic on his side heard the cries and looked towards the downed squadmate, in response to the noise, he ceased fire and made the decision to cut across the room to reach the injured private. Before the medic arrived at the soldier's aid, Sundance’s burst from their rifle cut the man down and caused him to fall inches in front of the bleeding victim; his helmet cracking against the tile from the impact. In a moment of rage and blind panic, the squad leader fired into the office block where Angel and Sundance took refuge. The mad spray tore through the wall and spun out of spiral as it clipped Sundance’s vest and pushed them back against the desk. The bullet didn’t go all the way through, cutting through the armour before embedding itself in their torso with a sizzling pain. As Constantine held in the wound as Sundance’s blood coated his palm, Irish and Kirkby continued covering fire whilst he dragged Sundance towards cover as he called out to the others on their status. “Sundance has been hit! We need to retreat!” Angel was right, as more soldiers piled into the meat grinder, they had no other option than to retreat Irish reached to his side and raised the smoke launcher to his shoulder before letting the shells arc across the room giving them a smoke screen cover. Even as the marines advanced through the smoke, Kirkby and Irish rushed back towards Sundance’s position as they groaned in agony. With the bandage already on and the marines closing in, Constantine had no option but to administer some stimulants and prey they still run as good as they used to. Slamming the green tipped syringe into their shoulder, Sundance gasped with life as Angel handed them off to Kirkby, “can you move with them?” Kirkby shifted her weight to try and keep Sundance upright and stable as they limped alongside her, “yeah, I’ll try and keep up.” With a weak hand, Sundance tapped Kirkby’s thigh holster and tiredly gave her a groggy smirk. In the holster sat a G57 that Sundance got the reporter for losing to her at poker, their misfortune proved to be their luckiest gamble. Retrieving the pistol from the holster, Kirkby quotes one of the high-flyer’s favourite movies. “I kept it for close encounters, like you said.” As the footsteps of the marines came rushing towards them, the squad moved hastily towards the broken opening into the exposed valley. As the smoke began to settle and the troops approached where the blood trail went cold, the leader grunted and cursed under his breath before leaning into his radio to report the incident. “This is Misfit-1. Multiple Civvies and unidentified soldiers KIA in the offices, got some stray dogs running from the scene Anvil-3, show off your new toys.” “This is Anvil-3, eyes on four tangos. Commencing attack.” The droning of the helicopter’s blades batted in the ears of the specialists. By the time the shape of the stealth helicopter came into view behind the afternoon sun, the machine gun pods began to fire around the specialists; kicking up mud and stone as it idled in the air. Sandwiched between the Marine assault and the attacks from the chopper, the team made a panicked run into the service tunnel with Kirkby moving the injured Sundance onto her back as she ran behind them. Once they were safe from the onslaught and had checked for any wounds, Kirkby handed Sundance back to Angel to continue treatment as she wandered slightly from the group to take pictures of the site. Nobody would believe what was uncovered here unless they had hard evidence that it was here. Lifting the camera from her neck, she took a snapshot of the tunnel entrance and of the devastating landslide. The rest of the squad caught up with Sundance walking on their own although they were out of action as they held their aching chest. The server room was on the other side, finally they could get some answers about what this place was really for. Their hopes of an easy walk was cut short as the shadow of the helicopter came back around with its haunting hum following its appearance. In a split-second decision, as the rest of the squad moved behind half-buried containers, Angel moved behind the rocks in front of the conference room entrance. The pilot had found his mark and began to punish him for his decision, the stealth helicopter pounded the hillside with missiles and gunfire; he gripped his rifle tight as he waited for the barrage to stop. As he had just given up hope, a rocket from inside the conference hallway shot past him and curved into the side of the pilot’s cockpit; caving in the helicopter with a burst of flames before it rolled down the hill. As the dust settled Angel snapped out of his frozen state he looked up at his saviour to see a familiar face. It was Lis, a close friend he made whilst hunting drives, an excellent soldier and friend who came at the perfect time. She chuckled as she unloaded the shell onto the cracked tile. “Oh Constantine, we just keep digging each other out of these situations don’t we?” Angel emerged from cover with a grin across his face, “I think that save made us equal, Ewelina. Why are you here?” Lis’ cameo was completely unexpected, but after what they found in the hazard zone, it was probably the most likely place they’d meet again. “Following up on Goerlitz. My squad was ambushed. I’m the only one who remains.” Angel assumed that it was the same Marines in the offices that wiped out Lis’ squad. “Damn. We were attacked by the marines too, they clipped one of our wings.” Lis’ face soured as they tossed Angel a patch ripped from one of her attackers, three spears that any No-pat understood. “Not marines, Liquidators.” “The Liquidators?! You sure?” Angel had heard of the Dark Market’s headhunters, elite soldiers on the council’s payroll. “Positive. Help me find the data and I’ll help you with information,” Lis requested from her friend as the Marines drew closer. The deal was short and sweet, they needed every ally and piece of information they could get. Angel would lead Lis towards the Exodus team for an on-the-go introduction before Irish took charge once again to lead them into the server room via the tunnel entrance. Yet again, as the team searched for what the liquidators were looking for, Kirkby took pictures of the compound to reveal what was going on underneath the supposed weather station. After she was satisfied with the pictures, she joined the team as they huddled around a computer plugged into the server. Lis groaned in annoyance as she checked the files over and over again while the computer displayed that the recovered files had been deleted, no trace of what was taken from the hard drive. After a moment of defeat, the Polish woman took out an empty data drive and loaded security information into it. Camera recordings, internal logs and memos, alongside in-going and outgoing transmissions for the day before deleting the data from the servers to the Exodus’ presence wasn’t known. After she stored the drive in her satchel, she turned to Irish and followed him towards the cliff. “Those cameras will give us a lead on who ordered the attack. Let me ride with your team, I’m more than a pretty face.” Lis zipped her bag close as she joined the team. Irish saw no objections to her inclusion, Angel’s familiarity crushed all caution against her. “Anything to help find the son of a bitch. Angel says you’re good company so you’re free to tag along.” “Of course captain, I’ll follow your lead,” Lis integrated herself into the ranks without trouble. The squad took the grapple guns off their backs and aimed them at the edge of the peak before firing them into the side of the mountain. With a couple tugs to test the tension, the team were ready to ascend. Kirkby stayed in the valley to allow Lis to go first, taking priority due to the information she held. Once she was clear to come up via radio she connected her harness to the wire and moved up the incline. By the time she had gotten up from the ground exposed disaster zone, a car stolen by the injured Emma and driven by Angel was waiting for her with a playful honking of the horn. Kirkby rode in the back of the electric pickup as it blazed over the dirt paths and away from the hazard zone, an unorthodox extract but that’s business as usual. The trip back to the Nightbird was a shorter journey than before but it allowed time for Kirkby to once again reflect on everything she had learnt. So, the data for this so-called ‘Operation Steadfast Refuge’ was now in the hands of a sociopathic council of mercs willing to send the secrets to destroy the world as we knew it for a hefty price. It was immoral but morals didn’t mean anything in war. Will the Russians try to buy it? Will the US cave into ransom? Or is Oz planning something so destructive and diabolical that not even the ‘for the people’ bullshit would win everyone over to his side thanks to MAD theory. So many questions and she hoped that her and Tauno had a few answers. **MFS-04 EXODUS. 3rd December 2043.** The article was complete, her end of the agreement had been kept for now. But before she could get her answers from Tauno, Diane wanted to see if Emma had been recovering well from the injury. Stepping out from her storage unit turned into an office and quarters, she made her way a couple doors down and knocked gently on Emma’s door as to not wake them if they were asleep. The door opened with a loud creak before Emma themself poked their head out and opened it further to talk to Diane, they shared a warm smile before Diane spoke to them. “How are you holding up, Sugar glider? Heard they couldn’t get the bullet out of your chest.” Sundance chuckled as they felt the stitch that stung every time they touched it, “not the top surgery I wanted but the closest I’m going to get nowadays. Stop by to just say hello?” Kirkby leaned on the gurney and tucked her thumb into her gun belt loop, “that, and I just wanted to see you.” Sundance smirked weakly, the medicine made it harder to move but still they rested their cheek on their knuckle to look at Diane better, “Am I that irresistible?” Emma joked as they opened the door further and leaned against the doorway to their quarters, crossing their arms as they looked up at Diane who was snickering at the joke before locking eyes with them. The silence as they looked into each other’s eyes felt like a break from the PA alarms, rustling refugees, and the sounds of the various wild animals in the pens; for those few seconds it felt like an escape from the war. Emma broke eye contact first and chuckled to themself as they gently gave the reporter a friendly dig on the arm to break the tension. Sundance peered at the scar before touching it one last time in contemplation. “Thinking of getting something to cover up the scar, mind drawing something up later?” It had been so long that Diane had the chance to sit down and sketch that she forgot about helping them design matching Exodus tattoos. After the Black Ridge incident, she couldn’t bother drawing up anything new, “I’ll catch you at poker, Paik’s playing tonight.” Sundance’s blood ran cold, the assassin feared only one person, Paik’s proficiency with poker was well documented on the ship; turning a casual game into high-stakes. “Shit, I need to find something to trade. Au revoir, mon amie!” Diane waited until the door was closed before she moved off towards Tauno’s office, her mind still focused on the silent moment between the pair. Her smile grew as she thought about the look they shared, she hadn’t been smiling ear to ear since- ‘No.’ Diane rationalised as her smile dampened into a serious grimace, Emma was just a friend; at most they were close only thanks to combat. The last time she had feelings for another soldier it didn’t end well. Diane blocked the thought from her mind as she entered Tauno’s office, before she could show him the pictures from the CCTV footage, she saw him looking over the tablet with a still frame of the liquidators. A bottle of Canadian rum sat within reach. Diane picked up the empty glass and examined it and the man who was using it, he was two rounds deep into the bottle. She placed it next to a separate glass to listen to what Tauno had to say. “Lis sent you the photos? You worked with the Dark Market in the past, have any idea who was co-ordinating the attack?” Tauno sat silently as he poured another couple glasses for the pair to share, Diane took one of the glasses as she perched herself on the table and looked down at the tablet. She tried to read Tauno’s thoughts with how he acted, usually he was a closed book when he chose to be but as he pointed at the unmasked man in the photo she could tell one emotion reigned supreme over his mood. Rage. Tauno tapped the tablet once again to bring attention to the unmasked mercenary, he wore the liquidator’s white coveralls but instead of a bright red ballistic mask he wore expensive shades and a joker’s grin. The more Tauno stared at the grinning man, the more his blood boiled underneath his flesh. With an irate sigh, he explained who the man in the photo was. “Charlie Crawford. Ex-MI6, mobster, and professional shit-stirrer.” His tone was dark, not out of a personal vendetta but from despising the sliminess of his recorded actions. Diane was familiar with the Crawford name; they were one of the major suppliers from the Filipino No-pat militias during the 2030s. She could remember the plainclothes operation that severed their ties to their customers, how she executed the broker with a switchblade she picked up from the market days prior. “Heard about the Crawford crime family, broke up a deal between them and some rebels in Australia. I personally buried his bagman in a shallow grave.” Diane took a swig from the watered down rum before grasping the glass tightly, sitting on the edge of the desk as Tauno spoke. “Big, Bad Martin Crawford was a treat compared to his nephew. He turned being a two-faced bastard into an art style, if he got the Black Ridge data then we don’t have much time to find him. I’m combing through my contacts to see if anyone knows his whereabouts, I suggest you do the same.” Diane nodded as she slid off the table to contact some old friends about chatter around the elusive arms dealer. Just as she had stepped over the threshold of the doorway, Tauno called out for one last warning. “There’s a reason they call him ‘Warmaker.’ Don’t underestimate Charlie, He’s a master at arms.”