SOF Regional Operating Center 46
Miami, Florida
Approximately 21:30 hours, local time.
"Alright, everybody's here."
The speaker, a man of vaguely Middle Eastern descent, grinned at the men and women occupying four of the other seats in the cramped boardroom. With jeans, hi-top sneakers, a faded brown leather jacket, and a keffiyeh around his neck, he looked rather out of place in Miami.
"Welcome to Soldiers of Fortune. My name is Mr. Steele. I'll be your SOF liaison for the duration of your time with this unit. Anything you need, talk to me. Since we're going to be spending quite a bit of time together, why don't we all introduce ourselves?"
The other four gazed on in silence.
"Hmm." A slight frown crossed Steele's face. "Well, I figured none of you would be eager to make friends. I've gone through your dossiers and taken the liberty of condensing the information into our first briefing. Would somebody get the lights, please?" After a brief pause, Steele walked across the room and switched them off himself. He turned around and hit a switch on a projector facing the opposite wall. Judging from the absolutely dreadful quality of the images, the projector was older than everyone else in the room. A slightly fuzzy black-and-white image of a young man in a police uniform appeared on the wall.
Although the man in the room wearing the LAPD baseball cap looked a bit older and a whole lot meaner, it was clearly the same man. "John Boyd. Former doorbuster for the LAPD. Specializes in forced entry and CQB. Before he left the force for...ah, personal reasons, he had a remarkable service record. I think you'll all find him to be an excellent member of the team." Boyd scoffed at this. "Whatever." Steele pretended he hadn't heard Boyd and continued with his briefing. He hit a button on the projector and the image abruptly changed into that of an attractive young lady peering into the scope of a sniper rifle.
His tone shifted slightly, and he began to speak directly to one of the women occupying a seat in the room. "Adriana Slate. Three years with the CIA, one of which you spent as a designated marksman for the IDF in Palestine. Heard about you back when I was at the agency. Apparently you could knock the wings off of a fly at five hundred meters." He chuckled and pressed another button, putting on-screen an image of a man inside the cockpit of a fighter jet.
"Hassan Halim Fakhr. Former Viper pilot with the EAF. Off the records, you were an ace. And, that brings us to Miss Hanton." The image shifted once again.
"First female member of the Army Rangers. Ten-year veteran. Stellar record for grace under fire. And, last, but not least, that brings us to this handsome devil." The image on the screen was one of Steele.
"I spent three years with the CIA in the Middle East and five with SOF. I specialize in linguistics and rifle marksmanship. Together, we'll comprise Multirole Strike Team Seven. The Renegades." Steele walked over to the light switch and flicked it back on. "Now, we don't have full access to SOF funding yet, but I have a friend who managed to get me what I needed from SOF's main armory. I've got specialized equipment and sidearms for each of you. Of course, we still have to finish this briefing. Which do you guys want to do first?"