Author Topic: [KHO] In the Shadows of Wings. (Read 5127 times)

Ria Hawk · « **on:** August 30, 2004, 05:32:49 PM »

Jeremiah Talbot looked around at the office in distaste. True, he himself had specified the building as a meeting place, less connection to the company this way. But he wished it was a little more kept up. The paint was cracking, and the windows were glazed by a thick coating of dust and cobwebs. A single bare bulb illuminated the room. The single piece of office furniture, a battered desk, looked about to fall apart. He brushed an imaginary speck of dust off of his immaculate gray suit. He didn't like this part of his job. The mercenaries were tiresome, but necessary. At least this was the extent of his involvement. After today, it would be in Dietrich's hands.
His surly assistant was peering through the thick coat of grime on the windows. He was an unpleasant man, but invaluable in such cases as this. Talbot never went armed, but he was well aware that Dietrich carried an illegal amount of weapons. If, for some reason, the mercs got... difficult, Dietrich could take any of them down. Or at least buy Talbot some time.
Dietrich grunted. "I think someone's comin', Mr. Talbot.
Talbot glanced at the dossiers he had procured. Which one would show up first?

Luke Lavin · « **Reply #1 on:** August 30, 2004, 06:08:26 PM »

Ryan walked briskly down the street, he always walked like that. Nothing was worth walking slowly for, and running was just not pratical for going long distances without being noticed. He certainly did not have the look of a rogue Russian assassin, but that was the point of the game. Not to look like what you were. Ryan wore a pair of jeans that fit a little snug, a plain white T-shirt and a heavy leather jacket that kept the cold at bay. Ryan was unarmed as usuall for when meeting his employers.

A pair of navigator glasses hid a pair of empty hazel eyes that hid under a mop of dirty blonde hair. Ryan walked up to the building in what would have been a depressing state of disrepair if Ryan felt emotions. He did not bother knocking he turned the door knob which was unlocked and stepped inside. He looked at his employers a richer and his thug.

"Doushka." Was the only word, he uttered then he walked over to the wall opposite the door and waited.

CaptainPenguin · « **Reply #2 on:** August 30, 2004, 09:55:46 PM »

Andrew Lambrecht regarded the dilapidated structure with obvious distaste. His incongruously-new car, a slick black object like a tumor of sparkling paint in the dull dusty neighborhood, sat locked tight at the curb.
He stepped forward to the door and examining the knob squint-eyed, he opened the door. "Good day. Andrew Lambrecht is my name, and I have a...," he paused, searching for the word, and handing a folio to Talbot, "File, is it? Of my credentials for you. You are Mr. Talbot?" he asked, his Afrikaaner accent blurring his words in a distinctive way. His left hand fiddled in his pocket with a small set of circuits, shifting by feel for the parts he needed to defuse the (albeit non-functional) detonator.

Ria Hawk · « **Reply #3 on:** August 30, 2004, 10:05:09 PM »

Talbot smiled in a thin way. "Ah. Mr. Doushka. I'm glad you could make it." He recalled the dossier: former KGB, trained assassin, possibly mentally unstable. Could prove useful in the future; see how this job goes.
The door opened again, and a second man entered. Was is the demolitions expert or the tracker? "Ah, welcome, Mr. Lambrecht." The South Africaner, demolitions, then. Also potentially useful in the future.
He looked carefully at the two men, and noted that Dietrich had faded into the background, a nonentity. But Talbot knew that he was mentally inventorying every move they made. "I would prefer not to get started until the others show up. I believe we are waiting on two others, possibly a third. They shouldn't be long."

Luke Lavin · « **Reply #4 on:** August 30, 2004, 10:30:03 PM »

Ryan shifted a little as the African came in, Lambrecht. Ryan catalgoed from the Russian archives, born in South Africa he moved to America, was extremely rebellous, one of the infamous authors of the Anarchist Cookbook. A book that had been Ryan's soup and bread for explosive training with limited resources. Ryan shifted back onto the wall, two or three others? More than what he was used to working with but adjustable if the pay was good.

Scrasamax · « **Reply #5 on:** August 31, 2004, 05:48:25 AM »

Storm Eagle approached the address indicated. The building was in deplorable shape, but it was about average in comparison to the buildings back on the rez. Most of those were built with throw-away materials and government contractors. On top of that, they were almost all built back in the later 30's when the nation was trying to climb out of ruin and poverty. It was a shame that not all of the nation recovered.

The black sedan was out of place, polished to a mirror finish, and even the tires had a strong gloss on them. In comparison his own vehicle, a 1964 shortbed Ford half ton was a junk yard exhibit. He parked a block away, the engine ticking angrily, and a thin cloud of blue smoke coming from the exhaust, The rings were shot, and it burned oil worse than a UH-60, but it ran and right now that was all that mattered.

He lit a cigarette and took a drag on it. He checked his bowie knife before getting out of the truck and heading down the street. Few paid any attention to the walking redman, just another vangrant, another bum palming for money to buy whiskey. He could have gone on, gotten a job at one of the dirthole casinos playing the wooden indian, wearing the old warpaint, and the bonnet of eagle feathers. To think that the heritage of his forefathers had been humbled into tourist attractions, hawking beads, and other piecemeal indian crafts.

He knocked on the door. "Johnson here to see Mr. Talbot"

Ria Hawk · « **Reply #6 on:** August 31, 2004, 08:23:30 AM »

"Ah, come in, Mr. Johnson." Tracker. Remained to be seen how useful some of his skills would be, but he badly wanted the money. Talbot sympathised with him in a vague sort of way. Like most people.
He waited for the other man to show up, and the fifth member if she took the job. So far, they had been early in getting here. But Talbot was still slightly irritated at having to be here at all. Unfortunately, it could be trusted to no one else.

Siren no Orakio · « **Reply #7 on:** August 31, 2004, 10:33:51 AM »

One more vehicle, then, rolled to the street across from the building, a battered old Civic, utterly unremarkable in this battered old district. The tall blonde to step out of the car, no keys in hand, seemed just as battered and worn as the vehicle, a beaten leather flight jacket, complete with a spread winged bird of prey upon the back, wrapping his frame, along with worn jeans. A moment to let traffic pass, and he crossed the street to enter the door, not long behind the red.

Even as he entered, Axel reached up to remove his mirrored sunglasses, a small frown on his face as he looked about. "Herr Talbot, ja?"

His bloodshot eyes flickered about, the tic at his right cheek clearly showing as he surveyed the others. Well, it wasn't his job to judge the payload, he supposed, just deliver it. And make sure he got paid for delivering it.

Ria Hawk · « **Reply #8 on:** August 31, 2004, 06:42:56 PM »

Morgan Lieter got off the motorcycle and looked around at the decrepit buildings. Then she shrugged, and went in.

The newcomer looked profoundly hung over. "Ah, welcome, Mr. Strassen. I think that's all but for one..." A motorcycle was plainly audible roaring to a stop. "That may be her."
It was. Morgan Lieter was a tall woman who looked more like a punk than what she was, a top sharpshooter. She wore tight black jeans and a black leather jacket, and a t-shirt with some kind of slogan. Her hair was a violent shade of blue. Talbot looked at her in annoyance.

"Sorry I'm late. Got a ticket on the expressway. Morgan Lieter." And she leaned against the door, surveying the room.

Talbot looked around at them all, then down at his papers. "Now that we are all here. You can all introduce yourselves later. The business at hand: I'm sure that you're aware that Crowe Industries has interests in many fields. The company also has many enemies, generally in differing areas. Our biggest competitor is the Silver Corporation, in all fields. The Silver Corporation has not shied away from industrial espionage in the past; indeed, a whole department is devoted to thwarting them." The truth, as far as it went. "But that is neither here nor there. This time, they've gone so far as to steal a shipment bound for our research department. We need that back. And we want to keep as tight a lid on this as possible. The nature of the projects that were stolen has not even been revealed to me." He threw a set of black and white surveillance photos on the wobbly desk. "This is the warehouse where we think the shipment is now. In two days, a large shipment bound for Silver Corp.'s various satellite companies is going out, and we think that the stolen projects are part of it. Our intelligence is sketchy, because we have little experience in this particular brand of industrial espionage. But you're all accomplished, intelligent professionals."
He produced another piece of paper. "And, of course, here's why you're really here. The money. There are three large, sealed crates, all of which contain separate pieces of the project. We need them returned ASAP, and unopened. Naturally, we'll be paying you a substantial amount of money for this service." And Talbot named a figure that was about twice what they were originally told. "The increased pay is to dissuade you from working with any of our competitors. None of them could possibly offer you more. Now, as we ARE trying to keep this quiet, you cannot contact me directly. You will report to my assistant, Mr. Dietrich." He gestured at Dietrich, who nodded sullenly. "He can get you any resources that we can provide. You will return the crates to him at the conclusion of the job." Talbot gathered his things, leaving the wage agreements and all the intel he had to give them. "Naturally, since the law frowns upon this sort of thing, we have never met. We don't know anyone who would know each other. We've never walked on the same piece of real estate. If you get caught at this, which I don't think you will, Crowe Industries has no knowledge of you. Dietrich can answer any further questions, provided you have a need-to-know. Good day." And, at last, Talbot took himself off that miserable piece of property.

Dietrich glowered at them, almost daring them to ask him a question.

CaptainPenguin · « **Reply #9 on:** August 31, 2004, 09:32:23 PM »

Lambrecht raised a single eyebrow, his smooth, light-brown face a picture of indecision.
"So... Mr. Dietrich. Where are we to go? When? What will be involved in our mission?"

Luke Lavin · « **Reply #10 on:** September 01, 2004, 12:00:50 AM »

Ryan bounced himself off the wall and pulled off his navigators he didn't glance at any of his fellow "teammates" he took up the black and white photos and glanced through them. He pulled out a black pen and a short piece of paper that was labled grocery list on the back side.

Ryan thought about giving this guy his grocery list but when he looked at him he doubted if the fellow could get the quality Ryan wanted he was after all cooperate. He folded the short paper and put it away with the pen, "As Mr. Lambrecht said give us detailed information about the shipment, guards, shift rotation, information about the veichles being used for transportation, and anything else I think of at any time I need it, if you fail in this fashion and something goes wrong because of intel you will die."

Ryan said all of this matter of factly formal fashion. But the hollow look in his eyes reinforced his promise. Ryan leaned back he had said more in that phrase than in the last month. He glanced once at the women with shocking hair and the sexy little outfit, nothing stirred in him. He smiled which was nothing more than the end of his mouth moving up a few degrees. It wasn't a smile to Morgan it was smile for himself because he had beaten his emotions into the lockbox beneath his subconsiousness and they were never coming out.

Scrasamax · « **Reply #11 on:** September 01, 2004, 08:06:49 AM »

A chief was a chief, even if he wore the suit and tie of the white man instead of the war bonnet. Storm Eagle gave Talbot a single nod of acceptance. The rest of the war party had gathered, and they were an eclectic group, quite a few Europeans and one warrior with a soul like flint.

He hung back in the group, letting the others do the speaking. He would play the silent indian type for as long as needed, and remember that this war party was more a den of snakes than a circle of brothers. Each of these men, and woman seemed the type to knife their own mothers for enough money.

Ria Hawk · « **Reply #12 on:** September 01, 2004, 08:29:43 PM »

Dietrich looked at the Russian. "You threaten me again, friend, and you won't last long enough to know you screwed up."
He pointed at the photos. "What he wants you do to do, is go in and find the dingus. It'll be the one that's heavily gaurded. Feel free to break anyone or anything that gets in your way, or just annoys you. If you can't find the dingus, see if any of the guards know anything. Assuming, of course, that there ARE still some guards by this point. Now, I'm assuming that the stuff hasn't been moved since Talbot pulled me off surveillance." His tone implied that his boss wasn't at the top of his "Favorite People" list. "You get the dingus, you bring it to me, and I give you your money, and we all go home happy. If the dingus ain't there, report that, and we'll go to plan B. And I'll still give you money. If something goes wrong, it's perfectly all right to abort the mission; we'll just try again. Talbot made a lot of noise about he never saw you if you get caught, but you're the kind of people who don't get caught unless you want to."
He shifted his position a little, and proceeded to tell them everything he knew about it. He had personally been involved in staking out the warehouse, and told them everything he knew about it. What he had observed about the security, the guards, everything he had seen. He described the shipment in detail.
"Now, everything I just told you is somewhere in all that paper there on the desk. I'll try to get you anything you need, but remember, I ain't the government. We're on a budget."
He looked straight at the Russian, with no expression at all. "This ain't no high-level assassination, or anything like that. Try not kill anyone if they give you the choice, but don't leave any evidence that it was you or who you worked for. Especially not who you worked for. Now, anybody else got a problem?"

Morgan glanced at the photos. "If you were involved in surveillance, you knew what was going on. Why didn't you and your team just get the stuff back?"

"Honey, I'm only one man. The surveillance team that I have access to is a couple of nerds in a van and a pair of high powered binoculars. And Talbot's a fool. That answer your question?"

Siren no Orakio · « **Reply #13 on:** September 01, 2004, 09:55:08 PM »

"How are we gonna recognize the goods? Are they gonna have big orange tags all over them shouting 'Steal me'? These guys could have fifteen boxes with heavy security, all of em empty, while the dingus sits on some punks desk. You've got nerds with binoculars, you got nerds with computers? You know when they're gonna move this? Do you know how? Hundred times easier to jack a truck than it is to raid a high security warehouse." The German's tone is curious rather than confrontational, just information he would find useful. He shrugs then, a small smile on his twitching face.

"Either way, it sounds like fun. We're gonna want a panel van. If you can paint it up to look like something, great, if you can't, we'll deal. Don't want to steal one, it's extra heat, and we don't need to deal with that. Get us mag strips in case we have to go through a fence or three too. And just where is that warehouse?"

Luke Lavin · « **Reply #14 on:** September 02, 2004, 12:02:38 AM »

Ryan looked at the Dietrich he bit off the retort he was after all getting paid by him, but into the breifing became mildly immpressed with the information he did have it sure beat the crap out of what government intel would have had. Ryan he disagreed with the german though, if they let the "dingus" get on the move decoys could be put out then they would have to confirm what one held the actual dingus, not including helicopter travel either.

Ryan looked around the room, they had a strong combat team but were going to have a tough time gainning a strategical advantage through hacking. They had a sniper already if what rumors he had heard about Morgan were true, he doubted if she had any of the new XM109* 25mm heavy armor piercing rifles but from the sounds of it they didn't have any armor, a good fifty calibur would take out the gaurds from range. Ryan did a quick mental inventory. He would take a MK23 .45-cal ACP* with silencer and laser aiming module for close in combat it was ideal with a twelve round clip and automatic capabilities. He thought a bit more while the other talked the new MP7A1* machine pistol, it was a defensive weapon but one of the smallest submachine guns avaible. A MP5* for it's versatility probaly configured with a silencer, vertical fore grip, extended stock would be good for a primart assault weapon with a restricted amount of collateral damage that assault rifle produced. And a good combat knife to balance things out.

Ryan looked around the room well they had better get this thing going soon, he had not done alot of team operations before so whoever lead it wasn't going to be him which he was fine with.

*Note all above mentioned weapons are in use by various branches of the United States military and in the Septermber '04 issue of Popular Mechanics.

Scrasamax · « **Reply #15 on:** September 02, 2004, 01:50:25 AM »

Storm Eagle read through the paperwork quickly, scanning the text and memorizing the aerial photos and images. The layout of the buildings was condusive to good defence, but there were chinks in any armor. While the others were arming themselves and getting ready in their own ways, Storm Eagle spoke to Dietrich.

"Do you have a topographical map, a geologic map of the compound, something that shows elevation, and land contour?" he asked.

Storm Eagle didnt plan on carrying any weapon other than the bone handled knife on his hip. It was blessed by a potent shaman from the Rez, and the handle was carved out of bone...human bone. The guards, and other residents of the depot would provide him with any weapons he might need. Anything heavier than what the guards carried would be the detail of the demolitions man. Shattered necks, and slashed throats were quieter than even a silenced pistol.

Ria Hawk · « **Reply #16 on:** September 09, 2004, 06:09:56 PM »

Dietrich gave them a humorless grin. One got the impression that that was the extent of his facial expressions. "Sure, I can get a panel van. If I can't get it through the company, well, there are other ways to get stuff. And I can get the maps no sweat. Now, as for the boxes, last I saw 'em they were sealed tight, and I mean sealed. They're a little hard to miss. And from the way I saw 'em handled, I seriously doubt that the thing'll be sitting on some yo-yo's desk." Morgan started to ask a question, but he cut her off. "No, they ain't radioactive or toxic, so far as I know. None of 'em was wearing hazard suits, they were just treating the cases real gentle. If you do find the boxes, and they have been opened, there may have to be a change of plans. Now, I've told you all I know. Like I said, I'll get you anything I can within reason. But I'm leaving the specifics up to you guys."

Morgan reached into a pocket of her jacket and produced a cigarette. With it hanging out of her mouth, she found the lighter. "So. Sounds like a cakewalk. I doubt we're gonna have a problem." She lit her cigarette.
Dietrich raised an eyebrow. "Just don't pull any of the s**t you did last time, Acey."
She glared at him. "I don't run with the pack anymore, and you d**n well know it."
"I'm just sayin'."
Morgan glared at him again and shoved her blue hair out of her face. Then she turned and glared at everyone else. "So we gonna figure out what the hell we're doin', or not?"

CaptainPenguin · « **Reply #17 on:** September 09, 2004, 07:56:23 PM »

Lambrecht drew long fingers across his brown, smooth cheek.
"I am being payed, yes? Then I have no qualms. I have had jobs such as this before."
He stood. "By the way, miss... You should perhaps stop smoking. It is an unlikely habit for one with such fine features." A smirk was upon his lips.

Luke Lavin · « **Reply #18 on:** September 09, 2004, 08:48:53 PM »

Ryan leaned against the wall, unresponsive, the wift of smoke reminded him of something, probaly the last man he killed smoked. He fished a cigarete out of his pocket and lit up. He drew the smoke in adn blew it slowly out of his nose. It was alot of money, at the same time Ryan almost five thousand ways to kill them all and take eahc of their shares of the money came to mind. But being new to the buiseness betrayal wasn't a good introduction. He rolled his head to the left and blew a smoke ring at Andrew.

Rolling his shoulders he bounced off the wall, he glanced at all of them. "So let's hammer this out, seems to em Morgan you've had experaince dealing with these things before perhaps you should lay the ground works."

Ria Hawk · « **Reply #19 on:** September 11, 2004, 11:13:25 PM »

Morgan glared at the guy who had said she shouldn't smoke, and deliberated blew smoke at him. If he wanted her to stop smoking, he could try to make her. Not d**n likely. She looked at the Russian. "I haven't got experience with these things. I've worked with these twits before; that's why they hired me again. But my line is more in the breaking stuff category. I usually don't get sent after stuff they want back intact." She took a long drag on her cigarette. "Are you tellin' me that none of you people are better qualified to be the one callin' the shots?" Without waiting for a reply, she shrugged. "Fine. What the hell." She pulled out the map of the complex. "If we go in here, it looks like we could get in, but we'd need a hell of a distraction." She glanced around. "Like that'll be a problem. If we have a group go in and get rid of any guards in the way, and another group causing the distraction, we can meet up, looks like. Then I would say just roam the building until we find what we're looking for. After all, I'm pretty sure collateral damage isn't going to be a problem."

Luke Lavin · « **Reply #20 on:** September 12, 2004, 12:48:53 AM »

"Sounds good, we'll have better chances if the guards split up chasing down distractions. We can set timed charges on both sides and in the back. WE blow those chages and have smoke charges too. Then thirty seconds after the third charge we come in the front door. Sniper takes out the guards, in the guard post. We can come out of the brush here and here, and other guards we can handle. The sniper moves up and one other stays with it, you stop any veichle that tries to make a run for it, don't blow it up though it could be carrying the package. The rest fan out and search the facility top to bottom. The employer said that he didn't want alot of casuelites, right? Well I say the less witnesses the better."

Siren no Orakio · « **Reply #21 on:** September 12, 2004, 01:18:57 AM »

As the Russian speaks, Axel actually buries his face in one hand, shaking it sadly as he listens. "You want to call in SWAT? You want die Poletzi crawling all over us at the first explosion? The whole world is twitchy over the terror, and that's exactly what they'll think we are at the first bomb. We don't want them thinking they're playing with amateurs. That will make them do crazy things. If you want a distraction, we burn, not explode. Fire is much better than explosions. Many guards, many firemen, no army squads at the site of the fire. Rest of the complex left unguarded, until they're bright enough to realize it's arson. We go in the side of the complex at the first flame, through the fence. We leave the van nearby, park so it's 'making a delivery' elsewhere. We know what building it's likely in, we start there. We take care of the guards swiftly, silently. We hide anything left of them, and pray their checkin interval is long. If it's short, we'll have to figure out how to fake checkin. We grab the package, make like theives back to the van. We'll need to change it several times, but that is nothing."

Ria Hawk · « **Reply #22 on:** September 15, 2004, 10:10:11 PM »

Morgan stared at the Russian. "Just where the hell did you work before? Even the idiots I used to run with would know better than to start blowing crap up. I think that I might should plan the distraction; I know how to make it look like random gang-related stuff. Hell, I used to do this kind of thing for kicks." She looked around. "Anybody else got somethin' to say?"

CaptainPenguin · « **Reply #23 on:** September 16, 2004, 04:26:38 PM »

Lambrecht chuckled. "Americans," he said.

Luke Lavin · « **Reply #24 on:** September 16, 2004, 06:09:13 PM »

"What ever you say, maybe when you make a plan be a little more detailed, and you can speak up next time." Ryan said, Ryan sighed and looked through the papers, "Where is this place anyways, America and well off country, yeah we can't use explosives but any poorer countries and who going to give a s**t?"