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BACK STORY
The year is 2027. Genetic manipulation has evolved to possibilites that noone ever thought possible. Canisters of chemical compounds engineered to rearrange D.N.A have been haphazardly handled and thus, leaked into the natural world. When this outbreak occurs scientists predict a breakdown of the entire structure of nature. However, the end result is an age where the wildlife is stronger and more cunning in it's bloodlust then any that have preceded it. The world has been devided. Smaller countries have been consumed and retaken by the advancing tide of nature. The United States fights to keep order and structure in it's society. Yet, from inside, the mysterious economic entity that engineered the compounds that altered our world seeks to alter the very fabric of humanity itself. They are known as the Corperation and the United States must stop them and their genetic manipulations while a shred of our humanity still remain. Welcome to a natural hell. Welcome to Geoshock.
Chapter 1: Armored Angel (incomplete)
Adam slipped into the vast, cavernous, room careful to make himself inaudible and unnoticeable even to the dust that seemed to permeate the air. When he had cleared the room he crept into a dark corner and leaned uneasily against the wall. Wincing, he looked down at his chest. Through the alloy viewplate of his helmet he saw six bullets steaming through the holes they had rent in his armor.
Adam sighed, he hated it when they damaged his armor. Not only was his suit the single most expensive project the fractured U.S. Military had ever undertaken, but it was also intricate and damn hard to repair. Also, he thought to himself with a laugh, it just looked kick ass. After prying each bullet out of the chest plates in his armor he stood up with a suppressed groan and spoke into the microphone concealed within his helmet.
“Run systems check,” He stated calmly.
“All systems online. Internal temperature is seventy-six degrees fareignheit. Armor damage is at four percent.” Came the reply a split-second later.“ Adam,” the voice continued, “ I estimate you have a maximum of two full minutes until you are found.”
Adam frowned, he hated that damn computer and how it incessantly brought bad news. “Let’s get moving then.” He sighed, reluctant to move from his place only to be shot at again. It was then that Adam looked at his M18 assault rifle’s ammo counter; empty. “fine,” Adam grumbled, “we’ll do this the hard way.” As he went to set the rifle on the floor he heard a door slam open ahead of him. Rolling to the left and drawing his military issue Glock he took cover behind a stack of steel crates and held his breath. From what he heard it sounded like only one person had entered. “Sloppy,” Adam muttered, “ for a military installation these guys are unbelievably disorganized.” Peering over the crates Adam confirmed what his ears had told him. One man stood in the room armed with a standard nine millimeter that he held in a shaking hand in front of him. “Unbelievable,” he muttered again, “one man to deal with me. That’s just insulting.” Rolling to his feet and walking out from behind the crates he slammed a clip of incendiary rounds into the weapon and cocked it.
The guard’s head snapped around to stare directly at Adam and immediately his eyes grew wide. Adam was banking on the man being too scared to even think about firing his weapon and so far it appeared he had been right. Not that it would matter anyway, he thought to himself, the hollow points in that sad little toy wouldn’t even scratch his armor let alone hurt him. “I’m not gonna hurt you.” Adam spoke through the mike in his helmet. “The corporation has claimed enough lives already, now drop the gun and I’ll consider rescuing you from this shithole.”
The man started to tremble violently. “S-stay where you are!” the man stammered “I’ve gotta kill you! They’ll kill me!” he said. He’d started to yell now and Adam did not want this fool to bring more security down on their heads so he started to level his pistol to silence the guard when the man’s eyes rolled back in his head, and he crumpled, screaming to the floor. Adam rushed over and tried to quiet him but one look at the pitiful creature on the floor told him it was useless. Running from one side of the back of the man’s neck to the other was a huge, thick, ropelike scar that was oozing droplets of blood. Adam had seen this before. The corporation’s “chop-shop” was infamous for it’s back-alley genetic alterations. This guard had had an artificial gland grafted directly to his spinal chord. The gland produced a natural steroid that enhances aggression and combat performance, for a year or two. After that the gland would corrode and take the helpless victim’s nervous system with it. Eventually these operations would cause hallucinations, seizures, and eventual death. Evidently the tradeoff had been worth it to this man.
Sighing, Adam knelt down next to the writhing form and drew his Glock. “You honor your duty. It’s a pity, but you chose the wrong side.” He said softly. Adam flicked the safety off, slid the barrel into the floundering man’s mouth, and tugged the trigger. A mercy, Adam thought bitterly, more then his side would do for me.
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