**Author:** SLDH8MM3R --- ***The following log was uploaded to the EXODUS ARCHIVES on 25/01/43. Written by Diane Martha Kirkby and published by Tauno Jutt.*** **Stranded. 15th January 2043.** Everyone knows what the Dark Market is. Every No-pat and their mother use it whenever a contract needs completing or an insurgency needs the flint to spark a revolution. No matter what corner of the globe you find yourself in, they have representatives willing to trade money for munitions. The Dark Market had existed during the war of 2020 but it was minor compared to the deep web and other shady ways to sell weapons of war. It wasn’t until the 2030s that their prominence became more and more widespread across the globe, both registered PMCs and small tribal No-pats had the chance to get military grade weapons at a reasonable price. When the blackout occurred, the Dark Market wasn’t deeply affected due to their non-reliance on Satellite communications and storage which allowed them to become a powerhouse of intelligence alongside their proficiency in arms and manpower. As of 2043, the Dark Market has their fingers in every pie. From arming the nation’s militaries or No-pats to using blackmail to lobby for cooperation with corporations or government, their influence is incomprehensible. The three pillars of the trade are overseen by three unknown leaders who have no allegiance to state or ideals but believe that if there’s a free market, then they must be the market: The Jaguar controls the distribution of weapons and vehicles of war. They see bloodbaths as a thumb on the scale to increase prices The Sparrow who has control over intelligence and blackmail; has a mean sadistic streak but their intel is extremely accurate. The Dragon, who is the one in charge of mercenaries and commissioning armies. They personally pick the best contracts for the Liquidators, yet the contracts they give are lucrative in their own right. Finally, A mysterious entity called the ‘Broker’ is seen as a highly skilled assistant to the council which allows other arms dealers to make deals with the Dark Market’s blessing. Many theorise that the Broker isn’t even human but instead a predictive AI tool used to keep their pushers in check. Whoever or whatever it is, its effectiveness keeps the gears of the war economy oiled up. Today, we have a transcript of someone who had been working closely with the Dark Market. I couldn’t interview them for privacy reasons and fear that they’ll be killed for what they are discussing in the dead-dropped confession. Below is a transcript of the anonymous person’s testimony. Their voice has been scrambled and some parts have been removed for the safety of the person. **\[AUDIO-TEXT TRANSCRIPT OF STRANDED #1 INTERVIEW]** ANONYMOUS: “The Dark Market isn’t just a bunch of well organised No-pats trying to profit off the thing that destroyed their homes, it’s a chance at revenge for what their home nations did to them. The Sparrow takes pleasure in sowing discord amongst the military with false flag operations, blackmail, and internal moles feeding them sensitive data. I had to complete a contract, espionage within the \[REDACTED] Military. Got some dirt on a high ranking officer and a couple months later it was used to topple the command of a major military operation. What I suspect happened was that the dark market doesn’t just give its information to soldiers or those in their ranks; but also gives that information to journalists and investors to further both of their agendas. They know when an attack against them is bound to happen, they have snitches and implanted elements in every faction and sect. If you plan a military strike on one of the figureheads, by the time you’ve been given the order of no-quarter, they would’ve packed up and moved to another safe house on the other side of the world. Moral of the story? Don’t fuck with the Dark Market. They really control everything.” **\[END OF TRANSCRIPT]** A rightfully ominous threat from someone who's seen the treachery of the Council. The Dark Market has many safe houses around the globe ranging from small dens nestled in No-pat ghettos to shell company buildings used to store weapons and other items. Our report takes us to the bed of the Gatun Lake where the Dark Market have used the beached remains of the STG Ceres, a freighter once used to transport supplies through the Panama strait, as their latest showroom for everything from weapons to soldiers. A picture of the stranded vessel, the surrounding areas used as storage, communications, reconnaissance to keep the ship secure from any raiders or otherwise unintended guests. ![[songbird-stranded.png]] Before the breakout of gunfire within the ship, I asked a member of the Exodus to wear a wire underneath their disguise so you can hear up close how deals are brokered. The voice of the dealer has been identified as the broker, which conflicts with some reports saying they’re a man or woman, American or another nationality; this lays credence to the idea that the Broker is a title of a group rather than a singular entity. **\[AUDIO-TEXT TRANSCRIPT OF STRANDED #2 INTERVIEW]** BROKER: “General Bulkerov, I see that you’ve taken interest with the T28? We’ve installed an active protection system to the older models but with this tank you’ll be able to fire experimental STAFF shells which make it superior at hit probability within long distance engagements.” ANGEL: “The shells are alright, but my compatriot General Belensky is more of a weapons expert. My concern is the speed and durability under harsh conditions such as sea salt or water.” BROKER: “Valid question, these vehicles will obviously need to be stored under tarps if left outside and scheduled maintenance will need to be done periodically.” BORIS: “You said that we would have the ‘Warmaker’ as our sommelier for the ‘tasting’. FALCK: “His reputation as a businessman is something my employers have been eager to see.” BROKER: “I assure you General Belensky, Miss Birken, that the Warmaker is busy awaiting a client. Shall we take you to the small arms range?” DOZER: “Lead the way, Jefe.” *\[Sounds of group walking, armed guards talking into their radios, PA system giving announcements.]* BROKER: “Though the Warmaker cannot make it to the screening, his illustrious vault is available for you to sample and buy from. We have weapons from the twenty-twenties, twenty-tens, even World War Two trophies; The Warmaker has an affinity for the M-one Garand himself.” DOZER: “I like this one, used it a while back.” BROKER: “Ah, the SPAZ-12. A reliable semi-automatic or pump action shotgun, would you like a bulk shipment or just the one?” DOZER: “I’ll keep a hold of it.” BROKER: “Now Mr Cortez, we have a strict policy about the clients carrying. Please deposit all the shells into the box.” DOZER: “Whatever makes you happy…” *\[Sounds of a shotgun being racked multiple times until the weapon is unloaded.]* BROKER: “Excellent, anyone else wants to try a sample?” MACKAY: “You got some old shit, let’s see something fresh out the factory.” BROKER: “We have the freshest shipments from Gunther, UA, Nordvik. Whatever taste you have, we can satisfy.” *\[Broker’s phone rings, he answers and walks to a secluded spot in the room.]* MACKAY: “Still got Dina’s wire?” PAIK: “Recording. If they catch me wearing this wire then it’ll blow our cover.” MACKAY: “Got a couple mags and shells in my pockets, should allow us to hold out until we can reach the vault-“ *\[Broker rejoins the squad, flanked by liquidators with AM40s aimed at the Exodus team]* BROKER: “You really thought you could pull the wool over our eyes Bulkerov, Belensky, Birken? All of your ‘identities’ were found minutes ago all executed in an LA store room. We don’t sympathise with CIA dogs, please die quickly so we can get the next customers in.” *\[Broker walks towards civilian transport as Liquidators verbally force them against the side of a tank. A malfunction on the crane causes crates to crash on top of the liquidators, leaving the exodus team unscathed.]* BORIS: “Shit! Call for DRYDOCK now! We’re compromised!” ANGEL: “I’m seeing more liquidators! Fall back to the vault to restock!” *\[Paik cuts feed]* **\[END OF INTERVIEW]** DRYDOCK was the US military codename for the backup force within Panama, a move used to cover the Exodus’s exfil with the ‘Warmaker’. Russian naval forces were also spotted within the Gatun Lake, defending the ship likely at the request of the broker in return for compensation. Both sides now battle it out for the spoils of war amongst the AC ventilated ship and the luxurious showrooms. ![[songbird-stranded-2.png]] Nobody knows what the Dark Market agenda was in Black Ridge, money or power being the two that come to mind, but if Oz personally hired them to attack the facility and steal valuable information on a super weapon then all hell is going to break loose; giving an idealistic psychopath a weapon that can surpass the nuclear warhead is a quick way towards the extinction of mankind as we know it. I’ll be keeping you up to date as we dive deeper into the conspiracy behind this war. This is Diane, signing out. <br> **Stranded. “Eyes on the Prize.”** **25th January 2043. 10:41AM** She knew that those codes were worth a damn. Sure, the codes ward off any ships that could mince the Exodus with a couple rounds from their battery, but the smaller fishes in the sea didn’t care for procedures or rites of passage. She hadn’t slept without her plate carrier on since they left California, her G57 resting unloaded underneath her pillow. When the alarm bells rang, she was one of the first to burst out of their rooms armed and ready, helmet and all. Maria and the medical staff herded the refugees into the cafeteria to protect them from the incursion, whoever was able to fight was told to report to the armoury for weapons. As she made her way to stock up on weapons, she passed many of the specialists preparing for an internal assault as well as setting up traps on the deck, however she hadn’t encountered Sundance along the way. ‘Good.’ She thought having to talk about what happened back in California was a tricky task, even though she didn’t know if it was a rush of adrenaline or a subconscious confession. As she thought her prayers had been answered, there they were with Diane’s MP9 in hand. Using the urgency of the situation to open a conversation. Without saying a word, Diane took the submachine gun and checked the chamber before loading an extended stick magazine. As she made her way upstairs towards the command deck, Sundance hung close by as they opened the conversation, “I know it’s the worst time possible-“ Without hesitation, Diane snapped back as she opened the door to the command deck, “During an attack from a fucking boarding party. Pretty bad timing, Emmy.” Rao and Irish were coordinating the teams with where to go and what to do, using the intercom to relay orders. Irish saw the pair arrive and assumed they needed posting, luckily they needed more hands at the hanger. “You two, Angel needs hands to drag a Bolte onto the helipad. Plan is to use the auto cannon on top to thin their numbers.” Diane and Sundance understood the assignment, nodding towards the captain before exiting onto the deck to find a way towards the hanger doors. As the door shut, Sundance spoke yet again as they followed behind, “Listen, we need to talk about California. What was up with you?” Diane headed towards Boris who was setting up a perimeter with his turret as she retorted, “Reflecting on the past is a good way to get killed in the now. That’s your quote.” As the pair conversed, a pirate had mounted the side and was preparing to shoot Boris as he tinkered with his turret. In an annoyed rage, Diane pushed Boris away from the pirate’s sights and let off a burst from her MP9. The bullets pierced and shattered through his jaw, his eye socket and his forehead; leaving the back of the pirate’s head as an assorted shell of gore before plummeting to his death. Diane then reached down and helped hoist Boris back to his feet before continuing on her path, “Eyes open!” Boris and Sundance shared a glance of confusion, usually cool-headed and calculated, the stress of juggling many worries was making them brash and argumentative. Boris returned to his turret and Sundance decided to block Diane’s path and place a hand on her shoulder. “After this, promise me we’ll have the conversation.” Diane chewed the inside of her cheek and had a look around before nodding in agreement. “Come find me after Wildcard, I promise.” To finish the discussion, the door beside them opened and both snapped into position to return fire, however it was just a band of refugees looking for help. “Hey! Need some help setting up a machine gun.” The pair shared a glance at each other with Diane nodding towards them to instruct Sundance to help. For now, the pair split off to protect the Exodus. Diane rounded the corner and looked out at the oncoming vessels, light attack boats funnelled from a repurposed commercial ship; likely a rogue marauder vessel. Her focus was recaptured by Angel and Mackay rolling the Bolte onto the helipad with Lis in the front seat ready to pull the handbrake, the mechanic calling out to her, “We need you on the gun! Rest of our crack-shots are busy cleaning up the other boats!” Diane rushed to push the vehicle into position until it was ready for firing, Diane and Lis traded places as she climbed into the back seat to operate the 50mm cannon on the roof. Enclosed in the assault vehicle, she took a deep breath as she made sure the camera was on and that the weapon was loaded. Angel gave a thumbs up from outside the cockpit after he had checked if it was ready to fire, without hesitation she sat forward and aimed the barrel at the oncoming pirates. ‘Calm, Diane. You’ve done this before,’ her subconscious spoke to her as she flexed her finger over the trigger and sent a couple shots down range. The powerful round ripped through the pirate inhabitants and through the boat’s engine with a powerful fireball, decommissioning the old boat. The next boat housed a RPG wielding pirate that had difficulty aiming on the rough sea, his first round went wide and shot over the Exodus. Before he could attach another rocket to the front, another shot from the Bolte tore through him, severing his abdomen from his body and carving through the other inhabitants into a pile of viscera. With every black dot that appeared over the horizon, she turned it to ash with ease. It wasn’t until she lined her sight on an odd vessel, standing out due to its non-applicable position in the battlefield. A blue fishing trawler with a blue frame and white hull, however, the hull had a gaping hole underneath the waterline and from it a crimson ooze polluted the water. Her finger froze on the trigger as she remembered the boat, that infernal boat, and the ghost captain that stood by the head of the ship; staring her down with hollow eyes. On its side, ‘L’Odessa’ hastily painted and fading against the green decay. Diane’s breathing was heavy, she could only focus on the ship even as more boats swarmed towards the Exodus. Angel and Lis tried to snap her out of the obsession by banging against the windows and calling her name, nothing brought her back. A thunderous echo from a distant gun ripped through the air and brought her back to the present, the others ducked for cover thinking it belonged to the pirates; but when they raised their heads towards the mother ship’s megastructure, they knew it wasn’t theirs. Out from the fog of the morning, lights multiplied and gleamed towards the Exodus, a legion of ships letting loose into the marauder ship without warning or mercy. Diane turned the vehicle’s camera towards the bow of the ship and read out the name of their savours, the SRS Impavido. As the smaller vessels ran in cowardice towards their burning nest, the sound system of the Exodus bellowed out with Rao’s voice advising to cease fire, “All Personnel! Do not fire on the Impavido! They are our allies, they will protect us and help us pass into Panama.” Diane’s hand dropped from the trigger and unlatched the door, expecting berating from the others but was instead offered a hand out by Angel with a grin across his face. She matched his grin and joined him on the top of the Bolte to cheer their victory, “we did it! Aha! Drinks are on me!” He called out to the others on the deck. Diane decided to sit down on the Bolte and watch as the Impavido passed close by, watching the Leviathans scramble around the ships. **Outpost: *DRYDOCK*** ***Two hours post Operation: Wildcard.*** Wildcard was a success. Diane watched the other specialists around the pier, either helping the marines load the Exodus with supplies or enjoying the opportunity to swim in the sea. After editing the recent blog post, she felt like another stone had been lifted from her chest, but she still had a couple left to remove. Paik had won last night’s card game so she was fresh out of cigarettes, having to confront her feelings without comfort. The door to the deck opened and out stepped Sundance with the final carton that wasn’t under Paik’s domain, removing a pair of cigarettes and placing one between their lips. Diane took the other and lit the ends of both before they both took a drag simultaneously, letting the clouds dissipate before they spoke. “So…” Sundance clicked their tongue as they thought of what to say. Emotional support wasn’t Sundance’s strongest suit, whenever something needed to be done, it was done quickly and without thought or care. Still, they could tell Diane was hurting with something; it would be pretty shitty to just ignore someone they respected. “So.” Diane didn’t know how to open the conversation either, as she was in poker, Diane kept her feelings close to her chest and wore a mask over it. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, the mask was slipping and worrying more people. Diane flicked the ash off the end of the cigarette and watched the remains flutter down towards the blue lagoon, a sprinkle of payback against Mother Nature. “About California-“ Sundance began to speak but was stopped by the wince of cringe by Diane as she remembered her actions, tightening her fingers around the cigarette. “I’m really sorry for all of it, I just had a lot on my mind and I hit a boiling point.” Diane tried to explain the situation but was stopped in her tracks by the compassionate hand of Sundance on her arm, cracking a smile as they approached the railing. “It’s my fault too, I shouldn't have teased you.” Sundance bowed their head in guilt as their hand stayed on her arm, Diane swapped the cigarette from her right hand to her left and put her hand over theirs. “I didn’t mind, just as I said, I reached a boiling point.” Sundance took the hand and held it as the pair looked towards the base, Diane’s tense grip softened as she opened up to Sundance. “Wolff. While the others were preparing for WILDCARD, he wanted to see what I was capable of. I went to a place I hadn’t been in a long time.” Sundance caught the words in their throat, Tauno had told them little about Diane’s military career. Special forces meant she was no stranger to getting up close and personal, Sundance could only wonder what Diane had done to the pirate but from her reaction, it wasn’t a pretty picture. They weren't the best at emotional support, foster care and the French mafia have a penchant for keeping your feelings bolted in and not letting them out. In an attempt to comfort Diane, they took her cheek and cleared a tear from it with their thumb, holding eye contact until they both slowly moved closer into a compassionate kiss. It felt similar to the one back in California with the spike in adrenaline but it felt more sincere than a panicked expression, waiting until they both had their fill to finally apologise for the kiss. “Back on the docks, I needed something to pull me away from that place. I needed to love something rather than hate.” She turned her eyes away in shame but turned back slowly to Sundance’s softening grin as they held her hand gently. “You’re sweet, Dina, but let’s not call it love. It’s a Jinx, maybe after this is all over, we can start seeing if we can make this work.” A mutual deal, the benefits of being close without the risk of losing someone they love, a pact that suited them both. Diane nodded in agreement with a wink at the end to be a little more playful. With one last glance between the pair, Sundance moved towards the interior but had to give way for another figure leaving the detention rooms. His black gelled hair, the office-casual suit, and the holstered Nordvik pistol on his shoulder holster demanded authority which he took in any situation no matter how small. He snaked past the specialist and met Diane by the railing as he dug around for another smoke, tapping the carton against his palm until it dislodged from the crumpled box. Placing it against his pearly white teeth, he held his hand out expecting Diane to light it up but was met with the reporter staring daggers towards him. The friendly approach wasn’t working, so he got straight to business as he tucked the cigarette into his shirt pocket. “Made a difference in California, saved the Exodus and our skins. Now you have another chance to keep the free world safe.” Wolff passed her a hard drive from his back pocket and slipped it into her shirt pocket, pointing at it as he continued. “Prepared a statement for when we’ve cooked Oz, the exclusive scoop. Everything the world needs to know.” Diane didn’t need to read the sheet, she knew it was all manufactured bullshit to make him look like a hero and the US as the world police. She scoffed as she raised the smouldering cigarette back to her lips, taking a drag before responding. “And if people want the real truth?” She interjected as she looked back towards the pier, ignoring him for a second to take in the view. His serpent voice slithered through the peace and hissed in her ears, “The world needs a hero, a villain, and a happy ending. The less complicated the story, the more likely someone is going to read it; your big break back into the limelight.” Diane wanted to walk away from the situation, just a government drone trying to manipulate his way into doing the CIA’s dirty work. She was about to leave until what Wolff said stopped her in her tracks, “You do me this small favour, I’ll promise to wipe your name clean from Perth’s records. Nobody will remember you were even there. Don’t you finally want to be the hero they think you are?” The offer was enticing, finally burying the past so she could focus on the future. But still, this was a coverup, the entire thing she spent half a decade uncovering around the globe. Freedom or integrity. Wolff patted her shoulder with a grin as he laid out his final offer. “You have two choices, dig deeper and bury yourself in more blood? Or proclaim the good news and finally bury the skeletons in your closet? You choose Diane, Kraken or the Songbird?” She was left without words, playing on her fears like a marionette on a string. For now, he would let the doubt marinate until she was ready to do what she was told. Wolff turned to Crawford who had stepped out from the detention room for a breath of fresh air, hoping he had a lighter to borrow. Kraken or the Songbird. As much as the Songbird moniker calling out to her, she couldn’t deny her true nature.