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Austin Marshal

A rash young TIB agent.

0 · 1,546 views · located in The Abandoned Slums

a character in “The Multiverse”, as played by Nemo

Description

Special Agent Austin Marshall


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"I'm just here to do my job. If I have a lil' fun with it while I do it, well... is that really so bad?"


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Austin Marshall's TIB Clearance Card



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[[TIB ARCHIVE DATABASE: WELCOME, _User]]

[[TIB ARCHIVE / COMMAND:]]
>/access citizenprofile

[[TIB ARCHIVE-DATABASE / SPECIFICATION REQUIRED]]
>/AustinJamesMarshall

[[TIB ARCHIVE-DATABASE-AUSTINJAMESMARSHALL]]
[[<PROCESSSING REQUEST>]]
[[<NO CLEARANCE LEVEL REQUIRED>]]

/ACCESS GRANTED

Public TIB Archive File
Full Name: Austin James Marshall
Age: 25
Height: 6' 1"
Weight: 178 lbs
Hair Color: Brown
Eye Color: Hazel
Birthday: 4/1Image
Place of Birth: Terra, United States, Los Angeles
Nationality: Terran, Confirmed Citizen
Immediate Family: Edward John Marshall, Marissa Ester Marshall (deceased)
Maritial Status: Single
Occupation: Terran National Government, Social Worker
Medical Record: Citofacin, Attention Deficit Diesorder
Criminal History: Minor Theft, Assault




[[TIB ARCHIVE-DATABASE / COMMAND:]]

>/access classifiedprofile AustinJamesMarshall

[[TIB ARCHIVE-CLASSIFIEDDATABASE-AUSTINJAMESMARSHALL]]
[[<PROCESSSING REQUEST>]]
[[<CLEARANCE LEVEL THREE REQUIRED>]]
/PLEASE PROVIDE VALID CLEARANCE

>/insertclearance W36478 TLGEQ91684 REDWINEWITHFISH

[[TIB ARCHIVE-CLASSIFIEDDATABASE-CLEARANCECHECKPOINT]]
[[<PROCESSSING CLEARANCE>]]
[[<CLEARANCE ACCEPTED>]]
[[<COMMENCING RETINAL SCAN, REMAIN STILL>]]
[[<RETINAL SCAN ACCEPTED>]]
[[<WELCOME AGENT 616>]]
[[<Retrieving CLASSIFIEDPROFILE CBE-42-031>]]

Classified Archive Profile
Austin James Marshall is a Special Agent in the Terran Intelligence Bureau. He is Agent 317, callsign 'Vulpis'. He is primarily a field and reconnaissance agent with a mission-bias towards infiltration, extraction, assassination and counter-terrorism. At twenty-five years old, he is one of the youngest agents in the field. With over five successful missions under his belt, he is also one of the most renown.
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Young Austin, receiving combat training under the TIB.

Agent Marshall was marked by a spotter at age eighteen when he was observed stealing an expensive necklace from a jeweler. When confronted by security, he succeeded in talking his way out of the situation until the stolen necklace fell out of his jacket. Marshall proceeded to incapacitate three security guards before fleeing the store. He was tracked and found living in an abandoned warehouse. After a struggle, he was detained by Agent 489 and was brought back to Veritas where he was recruited of his own consent. His training began almost immediately.

For the next seven years, Marshall mastered every level of field training, from basic to tactical. He studied the cultures and histories of both Terran countries and many intergalactic nations, becoming fluent in over a dozen languages. He completed every available course for weapon handling, from light firearms to heavy explosives. Under the TIB academia, he was schooled in chemistry, physics, biology, mechanical engineering, advanced calculus, paranormal studies, theater, kinesiology, botany, basic medicine and toxicology. Despite destroying many of the training cars, he was taught to drive a plethora of different vehicles, from motor automobiles to heavy transports and even to spacefaring vessels.

Marshall's past is hazy and unclear, mostly because the agent rarely speaks of it. He recognizes having a mother and brother in his youth. They lived in extreme poverty, and the mother eventually died of untreated syphilis. Austin and his brother, Edward, split ways and became stragglers. It was during this time that Austin developed exceptional thieving and stealth capabilities. He also learned how to fight hand-to-hand in the Israeli defense system of Krav Maga, learning from an old master in exchange for whatever liquor he'd managed to steal that day.

Austin suffers from a rare neurological disease: citofacin (cito - quick, facina - action), caused by a malfunction in the motor and sensory neurons in the brain. As the neurons release catecholamine neurotransmitters between synapses, the velocity at which the neurotransmitters move is accelerated beyond all normal human parameters. As a result, the lag-time between thought and action is shortened drastically. For persons suffering from citofacin, thought and action are one. Years of therapy have allowed Austin to train his "disease", focusing himself to prevent every passing thought from being completed as action, consciously choosing what he will or will not do. His condition also gives him a considerable edge on the field. Without any lag time between brain and trigger finger, Austin is an extremely capable fighter and gunman, his kinetic speed almost inhuman. Nonetheless, Austin still struggles to maintain complete control of his disease, failing frequently.

In terms of his character, Marshall is an optimist and an extrovert. He is a great lover of humor and sarcasm, never failing to find something that he might smile (or smirk) at. Although he has consistently shown great bravery and courage on the field, his valor often evolves into blatant recklessness, particularly when confronted with bleak or hopeless situations. He is a risk-taker and a daredevil; the more dire and desperate the objective, the more enjoyable it seems to become to him. A skilled orator and speaker, Austin craves society and the company of others. When left alone for extended periods of time, he has been known to talk to himself. His bright character seems to be a helpful tool for the agent when he is tasked with impersonating a character or acting out a role in his various assignments.

Despite this, Marshall has frequently demonstrated narcissistic behavior and overtly forward sexual tendencies. He flirts recklessly and without restraint and has had dozens of known public relationships, all of which lasted no longer then a month. His ego frequently clashes with other authorities on the field, and Marshall will often abandon a set-plan in favor of a direction or course that he deems more effective. Despite his obvious tactical success on every mission he has been sent on, Marshall has been suspended from duty three times, detained four times and brought up on charges of sexual harassment twelves times.



>/access AustinJamesMarshall missionrecords

[[TIB ARCHIVE-CLASSIFIEDDATABASE-AUSTINJAMESMARSHALL-MISSIONRECORDS]]
[[<PROCESSSING REQUEST>]]
[[WARNING > CLEARANCE LEVEL FIVE REQUIRED]]
[[PROCESSED SECURITY CLEARANCE IS NOT ACCEPTABLE]]
[[<RETURNING TO ARCHIVE DATABASE>]]



[[TIB ARCHIVE DATABASE: WELCOME, _User]]

---

So begins...

Austin Marshal's Story

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#, as written by Nemo
Austin Marshal recoiled sharply as the Gauss pistol in his hands was suddenly crushed, the weapon sparking as it was promtply destroyed under Marlene's powerful telekinetic abilities. Even more alarming, Austin suddenly felt his trigger-hand being literally jerked behind his back by some unseen force.

'A shit...' Austin groaned to himself, 'a telepath.' And here he didn't even have an Inhibitor-Shield. Still, if Marlene was a telepath, it didn't seem like she was terribly trained. A true telepath would have been able to rip both his arms off and make a painting in the sand with his blood by the time Marlene had even crushed his weapon. There was one option then: brute force.

Straining his built muscles, Austin resisted the force of Marlene's push with raw strength. Depending on how adapt her skills, Marlene might find herself unable to continue with the attack. Or she might throw his muscles aside like a rag-doll. It was a risk, that was for sure... though it wasn't like Austin hadn't taken risks before...

"...so that's a 'no' on the candy?" Austin forced a smile somewhere in his painful grimace as he struggled.

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#, as written by Nemo
Austin Marshal made his best 'whatthefuck' face in mid-struggle, clearly not understanding Marlene's accusations. 'Betray Terra?' What the hell was she talking about?

"Were you-- smoking-- something-- or'what-- " Austin grunted between breaths, his muscles flexing against her mental strength. As she attempted to lift him, Austin quickly bore down, shifting his weight as much as possible while he was being lifted in an attempt to ground himself once again. If that failed, he would stop resisting all-together once above the burning vehicle. Looking back between the flames below him and Marlene in annoyance.

"Oh, real nice, Marlene..." Austin crossed his arms over his chest as he floated, "I offer you a kind escort and some delicious hard-candy and you send me dangling above a blazing fire? Y'know attitudes like yours is how World War One started..." Austin allowed his usual satiric manner to mask his building concern. While the agent was sure that Marlene wouldn't kill a TIB agent, she might lose control of her ill-trained mental powers.

Or, perhaps she would kill him. Hadn't she called him a traitor earlier? Through some strange confusion Marlene perhaps legitimately believed he was a bad guy. Bad guys get shot.

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#, as written by Nemo
Austin Marshal simply stood there, his eyebrows quirked humorously as his gaze flipped from Marlene to the TIB tacticals to the NPA agents. Guns were pointed at everyone. Austin grinned, imagining that, had everyone pulled their triggers at the exact moment, they'd all be dead in that very instant.

"...this is fuckin' great..." Austin shook his head, laughing all the while.

The setting changes from Terra to Main Street

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#, as written by Nemo
Austin Marshal is here, not going down without a fight

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#, as written by Nemo
Austin Marshal rode quietly along on his street bike through the south of Wing City, dressed in loose-fitting jeans and a worn-out cargo jacket. No sense in putting on those bland TIB suits when out in the field. Besides, the young agent much preffered this dress wear. Sometimes those goddamned dress-shirts and slacks felt like straight-jackets.

The agent was, of course, following a lead. All the tidbits of evidence he had collected thus far suggested a major leak in TIB security, and by the LDA no less. The Ming Project had already lead to some serious investigations against the Taiyou... but Austin had never expected the Aschen to pop up on the TIB radar.

The agent rode on through the oddly vacant southern city. This was one of the poorer parts of town, and Austin could recall strolling through these areas many times in his boyhood.

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#, as written by Nemo
Austin Marshal rode on, certainly alert but never for a moment expecting a trap. Austin was fitted lightly for a field-mission, his jacket laced with boron-carbide and an Omni-Shield generator attached at his hip. His gauss pistol lay holstered beneath his arm, taking the place of the weapon crushed in a previous mission.

"Slums" Austin muttered under his breath. This lead, a careful collection of misplaced phone-calls and cleverly coded messages across the TIB comms board, lead to one of the many abandoned slum-houses in the desolate parts of the city. The agent neared it now, slowing his bike considerably as he looked onward toward the crumbling building. His head turned sharply about himself, looking instinctively at his surroundings. He had no energy-scouter or technological means of assessing threats. Just his mind and his eyes.

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#, as written by Nemo
Austin Marshal turned swiftly, his hand barely motioning towards his jacket as Michael came into view. Now things were getting interesting. Alarming... but interesting.

"...what is this...?" Austin said darkly, his eyes flitting about the city-scape furiously. He had seen Michael before, of course. The LDA Agent had made an appearance in the standoff against the Taiyou and several others afterwards. He was also considerably highly-valued as an agent, if Austin had done his homework correctly. His presence here probably wasn't good news.

"Don't tell me you're the handler?" Austin took a step back, "cause' I'd just love to put an Aschen in binders after Marlene got off scot-free last week."

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#, as written by Nemo
Austin Marshal is here

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#, as written by Nemo
It only took a few seconds for Austin to configure the situation. The misplaced phone calls. The shady location. It was bait. All of it. Michael's gloating affirmed his suspicions of course, further adding to his horror. The LDA Agent probably wouldn't reveal the plan unless there was no way for Austin to escape at this point.

Austin drew his gauss pistol in a mere fraction of a second, loosing three rounds of blue-white gunfire, two at the floor by Michael and one just passed his head. The shots, aimed to distract and not to connect, pummelled loudly into the concrete floor, ripping small chunks of the material with it. Austin lept, diving away from Michael in a desperate attempt to get back to his bike.

In the words of Admiral Ackbar... Austin thought to himself, but quickly banished the humorous thoughts. No time for tomfoolery here.

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#, as written by Nemo
Austin Marshal grunted as he was literally lifted into the air by an Aschen 'tractor' beam, being pulled up into the hidden ship with no chance of resisting the abduction. Unfortunately, the beam hadn't paralyzed his mouth.

"Come and get it then, you fuckin' Aschen..." Austing growled, attempting to swing his pistol around despite the power of the beam, aiming to loose a few shots at the mocking LDA agent.

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#, as written by Nemo
Austin Marshal grunted as the blast connected. Austin's hand convulsed and spasmed, the gauss pistol flying out of his reach further into the beam. He was inside the ship now. Their territory. A trained agent, Austin knew that his chances of survival had just been cut in half.

"You should have called first..." Austin managed through grit teeth, mixing satire and blind fury, "...typical Aschen though, eh? No fuckin' manners."

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#, as written by Nemo
Austin was easily subdued under the armored soldier's enhanced strength, looking dauntlessly towards Montgomery in youthful defiance.

"George Montgomery..." Austin mimicked the Director's tone, "...y'know the only thing that suprises about you is that you still haven't changed your last name after three years of use. Weren't you made fun of in grade-school? Called 'cheese-boy' or something?" The TIB agent struggled briefly against the soldiers grip, fruitlessly of course.

"...as for my abduction and your LDA agents..." Austin began, snarling, "...first I want you to have that lil' bastard over there shave that goddamn' mullet of his..." Austin nodded towards Michael, "I don't think Billy Ray would appreciate it. After he's bald, I want you to drop me off at the government center where we'll discuss what you'll have to do not to face treason charges for this."

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#, as written by Nemo
"It rings an unpleasant bell," Austin winced, "I thought it had something to do with lie-detectin' or shit like that... but I think the designs got fucked around with. Sorta' like mind-control now, huh? At least that's what I know about it. Someone gives a command and it triggers something in the victims mind." Austin forced back an apprehensive gulp. "Triggers whatever was programmed."

"Look, Montgomery..." Austin growled, "...whatever you're planning, forget it. You're too late. I've already contacted the TIB with the neuro-technology Eriaji put in. You'll have marines and Tetris swarming your ass in ten minutes if you don't let me off this shit-hole. Let it go." All a complete bluff, of course.

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#, as written by Nemo
And here it was. The bottom line. Austin had been sarcastic and running-his-mouth up to this point, but now it was time for the serious business. The agent took a deep breath, taking a moment to steel himself for whatever torture he might endure. He was slightly frightened, of course. Austin had never experienced the real-deal like this before.

Looking Montgomery straight in the eye, Austin didn't say a word, employing the tactics he had been taught. He needed to keep his mouth shut no matter what. The agent refused every smirking comment that came to mind. As far as Austin was concerned at this point, he had been born a mute.

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#, as written by Nemo
Goddamn Marlene Angel...

Austin considered blowing on the re-bar for kicks, like a child cooling down a hot beverage, but restrained himself. He looked dead ahead, staring at some obscure point on Montgomery's suit, his face entirely blank, his breathing steady. It was hard to tell if the agent was even blinking.

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#, as written by Nemo
Austin Marshal said nothing, his humble brown eyes barred coldly from the rest of the world as he retreated into a deeper level of his psyche, wrestling his citofacin as he took another deep inhale of breath... savoring the feeling of free air while it lasted.

Looking up into the eyes of Madeline W., he half-grinned once, a brief remnant of the laughing-scoundrel he was washing over his young jaw briefly. This scoundrel had just run out of luck.

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#, as written by Nemo
Austin Marshal took one, numb look around himself, taking a last careful account of everything in the room before descending back into the folds of his mind. Two technicians. One bitch. One very-mean looking machine. He was strapped across the chair from behind, his hands looped behind his back and waist belted around the chair. He was still wearing his jacket, his shield had been lost in the beam. There was a knife in the strapped pocket of his pants that hadn't been swept up, but there was no way he could reach that now. Austin had probably no chance of escaping his current condition.

With a final, weary breath, Austin blew up at the hair matted down to his sweat-licked forehead, grumbling to himself in childish annoyance. The shit he did for his planet. If he ever made it out of this alive, Drulovic was gonna' give him that fuckin' raise. No doubt about it.

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#, as written by Nemo
Austin Marshal exhaled quietly as the drug seered through his veins, lighting his arms in flames and sparking instantaneous pain. In his mind, Austin had begun to employ the unique resistance methods he had trained for with the TIB, using his citofacin disorder to appropriately distract himself with every passing thought. Because of his condition, Austin could give out the answers the Aschens were looking for in a mere passing thought. The key was just to imagine Madeline saying something entirely different then what she had said. That... and coping with the god-awful pain.

"...the fuck'..." Austin mumbled quietly, "...I don't have any fuckin' kittens on base, Geralds. I told you. Now get those goddamned prostitutes out of my dorm, I don't need any STD's today, thanks." In his mind, Austin had literally managed to mutilate Madeline's question into something else entirely. He wouldn't have been able to recite Madeline's true inquiry even if he tried.

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#, as written by Nemo
Austin Marshal flat-out roared as the needle was inserted, throwing his weight desperately about in the chair as his body racked against his restraints. "FUCKIN'A, EDDY!" he bellowed, "GET THIS FUCKIN' HOT GLUE GUN OFF MY THUMB! FUCK!" The pain was purely overwhelming.

As the data collected on the screen, transmitting Austin's very thought, the technicians might have noticed something uniquely strange about the way the data appeared on the screen. The organization of the numbers simply looked physically different then a normal man's might have. Should the AI begin to decipher the collection, it would find that Austin's thoughts and memories were 99% rubbish, tossed around like a salad with the 1% that was actually worth something. Memories of secret codes or TIB info was jumbled impossibly with the color of the bathroom's walls or how Mahlid had hit on Rosie at the break-room last week. Some of it might even be incoherent or incredibly difficult to make out. Such was the nature of Austin's citofacin. Every simple thought, every common acknowledgement, all of it had to be consciously registered by the poor boy and filtered into inaction or true response.

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#, as written by Nemo
Immediately upon seeing her?

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#, as written by Nemo
Austin Marshal would wake up uknown hours later, lying among the insected-infested vomit-covered end of Gambit's Side Alley. Rising numbly, unable to remember much, he looked hazily towards the end of the alleyway. What had happened? Had he been mugged? His bike wasn't here... neither was his cash in his wallet...

"...musta'been one helluva' mugger..." Austin groaned, staggering out of the alleyway.

The setting changes from Main Street to Wing City Highway

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#, as written by Nemo
Austin Marshal rode along to the massive compex, the fluent hum of his MV Agusta F4 heralding his arrival. The TIB agent wasn't much concerned about his mission today, though he was a bit curious. This enormous property had sprung up just south of Wing City practically overnight. No documentations... no state-records... it was like its own little country in the middle of nowhere. Naturally the TIB wanted a bit more intelligence on a place this big with no real paperwork on it yet.

Austin stopped his bike at the gate, flashing his TIB Level Four clearance card. "Agent Marshall," he nodded to the guards, "I represent the Terran Intelligence Bureau. I'd like to meet with whoever's in-charge of this place as soon as possible." Austin's clearance was considerably high. He could see Prime Minister Cranford in ten-minutes tops with a flash of his badge. Of course, not everyone was as inclined to let a government agent into a secure premise...

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#, as written by Nemo
"Thanks," Austin nodded, obeying without objection as he allowed the escort to take him where he would. The agent frequently let his eyes wander, drifting over the building and its various hangars and complexes. He noted with suspicion the fenced walls and army of security. What was this place hiding...?

"So who's in charge here anyway?" Austin asked Chinchin as he drove. Perhaps he could get some information out of the escort while they went.

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#, as written by Nemo
Austin Marshal took careful note of the technological complexity of the interior of the building. Holy crap... what was going on here? A helicopter manufacturer? Some private intelligence agency? The agent put on a friendly face as he was introduced to Stryker, taking a few steps towards the stoic man, ready to extend his hand in greeting should he turn around.

"General..." Austin nodded, "it's a pleasure to meet you. Quite the facility you've been running around here..." The agent warily eyed the television screens himself. This guy seemed to have a camera on every major part of the city.

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#, as written by Nemo
The agent passively took a seat on the intended furniture. "Well exactly as you said General Stryker," Austin returned the smile, "our 'small government' has founded quite a large bit of curiosity in your business here. Most privately-owned industries take up some sort of documentation with the Terran National Government before beginning production. We wouldn't want anything illegal going on here, after all." Austin smiled disarmingly.

"If you could just answer a few of my questions and sign a few papers," Austin continued, "I'll be out of your hair in no time. Perhaps you could start by telling me what you do here? Hellicopter manufacturer, right? Who do you sell too?" Austin's tone was polite and neat, not at all setting the scene for an interrogation. Not yet, at least.