Join the HUNDREDS of paintball players as they attend BlackCat Paintball Productions’ and TAAG Paintballs’, “Twenty Four.”
“Twenty-Four” is a 24-hour role-playing scenario game based on the popular TV series 24.Jack Bower is back undercover deep in the Salas Drug Cartel.With the imminent threat of a Terrorist attack will Bower and his team be able to act in time to save the day?
It’s been three years since Counter-Terrorist Unit (CTU) Agent John Bower impeded a terrorist attempt to throw the United States into war. Now he’s back in Los Angeles after working undercover for six months to bring down the drug lord, Raymond Salas, now in a federal holding facility for his crimes. Then the FBI Chief, Dick Tracy, receives a call from Salas’s brother, Hectorio, who threatens the release of a deadly and destructive virus in L.A. if Raymond Salas isn’t released from prison within four hours. As CTU races to locate the virus, John Bower realizes that the only way to prevent additional terrorist demands is to locate the source of the virus—and take matters into his own hands. . .
Los Angeles, . . . . A windowless van snakes its way through the streets of Los Angeles. As terrorists inside the van prepare a small bomb, the van crawls to a stop at the rear entrance of the National Health Services complex. The terrorists slide the body to the ground and attach the bomb to the rear door of the NHS. As they speed away, they detonate the bomb. . .
Downs Federal Holding Facility, . . . John Bower and his partner, Chet Edmond, wind their way through countless security doors to view the interrogation room in which Raymond Salas is seated. Salas has agreed to give up the terrorists cells with which he deals in return for a reduced sentence. John and Chet watch from behind a two-way mirror as Salas is handed a pen from his attorney to sign the “deal”. A sideways glance and evil grin from Salas toward the two-way mirror is all John needs to spring into action—but even John’s reaction is too slow. As quickly as Salas received the pen, he jabs it into his attorney’s jugular, and his attorney falls to the ground. As he is rushed away by prison guards, Salas, with his thick, Hispanic accent, inflicts one, last taunt toward John. “This is on you, John! What happens next is on you, too.”
The University of Southern California, . . . President Dave Polmer’s limousine slows to the front of the Winfield Auditorium to a cheering crowd of reporters and supporters. Accompanied by his brother, Duane, and his Chief of Staff, he enters the auditorium in the wake of his Secret Service staff to ready himself for the upcoming debate with his opponent in this reelection campaign—Jack Kealer. Stopping to steady himself on a nearby railing, he then proceeds through the great, carved double doors at the entrance of the auditorium. Duane throws a concerning look toward his brother, but an even more disconcerting expression comes from one member of the throng. In the midst of the cheering crowd stands Dave Polmer’s ex-wife, Sheryl, with a smirk that begins to travel across her heavily made-up face.
Los Noches, NorthernMexico, . . . Hectorio Salas watches proudly as his trainer breaks his newest purchase—a dark stallion destined to become a fine race horse. Hectorio’s cell phone chimes with a salsa strain, and Hectorio quickly picks up. The voice on the other end only advises, “It is done,” and then clicks off. Hectorio grins, kisses his girlfriend, Claudita, and then moves toward the sprawling hacienda and the surveillance room inside. . .
Los Angeles, Counter-Terrorist Unit, . . . CTU Director Antonio Almeda picks up the phone handed to him by his second-in-command—and wife—Shelly Dexter. On the other end, Dr. Soni Mercer, Director of the L.A. Division of the National Health Services, informs Antonio of the blasted rear entrance to her facility and the dropped corpse.
“Antonio—I’m concerned. It’s obvious that the ‘deliverer’ intended for us to see the body quickly. He sure got our attention. But what has me even more concerned is the way they delivered their ‘package’. My name was written on duct tape attached to the chest of that body. And Tony. . . I recognize the virus on that body. It’s a strain of a pneumatic virus we’ve been simulating and studying here at NHS, and it’s one that shouldn’t have—and couldn’t have—left our site.”
Antonio returns the phone’s receiver to Shelly, levels a concerning look her way, and then, in a low, even tone begins, “Shelly, I think it’s possible that this is a message from someone who’s looking to unleash this virus on the public. Set a level one protocol search. . . now!”
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