View Full Version : Official TombRaiderForums RPG Thread
Disclaimer: Please read the How To Play and Rules of the Game sections first. The game is to be kept at a PG-13 rating. It's your responsibility to uphold the rules and expectations of the forum that you agreed on upon registering on the forums. Any deviations of this rule will be punishable how a moderator deems appropriate.
Welcome one and all to the Official TombRaider Forums RPG Thread! You might be wondering exactly what this is, but have no fear, a clear and thorough explanation will follow suit. Firstly, a bit of background information for those feeling a bit cynical about the game. It all started with a discussion between a couple of moderators and other members on the board. I brought up a discussion about why RPG threads haven't worked in the past, and with a few examples, what-ifs, some moderator input, and weighing of pros and cons, we decided to give it another go, with some major revisions. I had a vision that we could create a forum RPG that could go smoothly and splendidly if we all took our fair share of responsibility and keeping it clean, organized, and fun for all.
What Is a Forum RPG?
A forum RPG is a game that plays out like a regular RPG. Members of the community who wish to participate are to create their own original character, write a biography (if they'd like) for their character, and participate in the RPG like an RPG video game; make choices, face consequences by other members, play along to themes and styles, and ultimately, create a story of it when the game is finished.
How To Play:
-Members are to create an original character, write a biography (if they'd like) and submit their character information to this thread as an application.
-This allows us to see who's willing to participate and allows us to keep track of those participating.
-Once the game starts, you're to make a post corresponding to the post above you. For example, if the participant before you writes, "Person A ran along the bridge looking for an access point, his handgun at the ready, when he saw Person B watching him through a sniper rifle scope." Your response would be something that continues from where that participant left off, from your character's point of view. For example, "Person B grimaced at Person A before pulling the trigger of her sniper rifle. The shot was like a sound of thunder, echoing through the Cuban forest."
Rules of the Game:
-You must submit an application in the form of your character's description and optional biography in order to participate.
-We're only accepting applications until you see the post that says the time has run out for application submissions. You'll have to wait until the next round to participate. This helps us keep things organized.
-Your contributions are to be in the third person perspective.
-When contributing, you must post something saying "Writing in progress..." or "I'm writing my turn..." so members know to wait until you've edited that post with your contribution before they submit theirs.
-No off topic discussions are allowed. There's a separate thread for that here (http://www.tombraiderforums.com/showthread.php?p=5408531). Please communicate all off topic banter to that corresponding thread.
-Your contribution(s) must be a minimum of 1.5 paragraphs in length, to ensure quality of the game and not a quick way to rack up your post count. In lieu of this, each participant is limited to seven (7) contributions daily. This thread will be closely monitored by myself and our moderator Ward Dragon to enforce these rules.
Theme of the Game:
It's 2012. An organization called SPECTRE (SPecial Executive for Counter-Intelligence, Terrorism, Revenge and Extortion) have stolen nuclear weapons and a deadly nerve agent called Nova 6 and plan to weaponize the nerve agent and unleash it on parts of the globe. The Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) have sent out some of it's best operatives to work together and put an end to SPECTRE's scheme once and for all.
Note: This theme is to be realistic; no magic, fantasy, medieval, or futuristic weapons or abilities are allowed.
Let the game begin.
Here's my application for participation.
Name: Mason Vanek
Alias: Mason van der Woodsen
Body Type: Athletic
Background: Born and raised in Canberra, Australia. Enlisted with the military, promoted to black ops. Honourable discharge. Moved to United Kingdom and enlisted with INTERPOL for four years. Currently resides in Chelsea, UK; occupation unknown. Fluent in English and Italian, understands Japanese and French. Strong Australian accent. Expert marksman, driver, and gymnast. Agile. Easily annoyed. Two tattoos: Magnific Order of Milo Rambaldi on left hand, four elements on back of right wrist. Cunning, witty, very good at reading people. Connections in Hong Kong, Taiwan, Czech Republic, United States, Afghanistan, Germany, Russia, and Mexico. Considered highly dangerous.
Top: Black blazer over a long sleeved casual shirt (colour may vary)
Bottom: Black bootcut jeans with a leather belt; low-top Converses (black and white)
Accessories: Reading glasses
Top: Stonewashed black denim jacket over a V-neck t-shirt (colour may vary)
Bottom: Black skinny jeans tucked into low-top combat boots
Browning Hi-Power Standard (alternative)
NDI shoulder holster
1964 Aston Martin DB5
1997 BMW 750iL
Gadgets may vary.
I'll try again next round..
Name: Caelan Servare
Alias: Criss Mroksvi
Body Type: Slim
Background: Born [INFORMATION BLACKED OUT IN BLOCKS]. Attended Welbeck Defence Sixth Form College, joined the British Army at 18 as a Human Intelligence Operative. After [INFORMATION BLACKED OUT IN BLOCKS] incident, was promoted to Secret Intelligence Service (S.I.S). Currently resides in London, UK; occupation Field Agent.
Languages: Fluent in English and Italian, French and Spanish. English without accent.
Skills: Athletics, Gymnastics, Marksman, Parkour ... further details available.
Personal traits: Calm and hyper-rational.
Tattoos: Snake wrapped around a sword on the left pectoral.
Field Attire: Black leather jacket, grey t-shirt, black cargo pants, dark brown leather boots. Hair shaved at the sides and 4 inches on top.
9x19mm Grandpower K100, Slovak semi-automatic pistol
M4 with Rail Adapter System (RAS), flip-up rear sight, vertical forward grip with bipod and Aimpoint M68 CCO
Tactical Hip and back holster
Custom Cellular Device
Name: Chase Montgomery
Body Type: Athletic
Background: Born and bred in the UK, he enlisted on his 18th birthday and soared his way through ranks. He was dishonourably discharged on his at the age of 23, after a fight resulting in the near death of another soldier whom he claimed “destroyed his family”. Studied French at school but despite being fluent took it no further. He has very little in the way of qualifications, but like his father is a natural mechanic. He also has advanced combat training from his time as a soldier. He is strong, agile, has sharp reflexes, charismatic, honest, immature, open and brash.
Top: Plain white tee
Bottom: Dark blue jeans, over black Dr martens.
Accessories: Timex diving wristwatch, Dunlop brown leather bag
Top: Standard issue marine uniform
Bottom: “ with Dr martens
Accessories: Timex diving wristwatch
Glock G17 9mm
Polaroid photo of his parents
Blackberry curve 3G
Vespa t5 classic scooter
Name: Aidan Ivanov
Alias: Sienna Reed
Body Type: Having a small frame; slim
Hair: Reddish brown
Aidan is of Russian and Irish descent, and was born in Toronto, Canada. Being raised Roman Catholic, she spent most of her time at her grandmother's home since her parents didn't have time for her. At about five years of age she was diagnosed ADHD. When she was about 12, she started to smoke. At the same time Aidan acquired a taste for fire and lost all her sense of danger.
After many years she just disappeared off the face of the Earth. It is believed that she has joined an unknown syndicate. The last thing remaining from her was the house of her grandmother which was burned down to the ground.
penchant for fire
Endurance and speed
Fluent in English, Russian and Gaelic
Skilled in weaponless fighting
Explosive expert, pyrotechnist and auto mechanic
Top: Greenish grey tank; grey draped cardigan
Bottom: Cadet grey drainpipe jeans; dark taupe wedge sandals
Accessories: Cuff bracelet; long necklace
Top: Rose taupe 1/2 sleeve V-neck top; dark sienna leather jacket
Bottom: olive green and skinny cargo pants; pale brown walking boots
Accessories: dark brown leather wristband; beige-coloured scarf, aviator sunglasses
Nokia E90 Communicator
Cigarette lighter/box of matches
Orange 1969 Pontiac GTO Judge
Name: Alaric Arthur Williams
Aliases: Arthur McDorson, James Bailey, Richard Robertson, Alexander Morris
Date of Birth: 19.09.1986 (age: 25/26)
Place of Birth: Montreal, Canada
Current Residence: Somewhere in the Laurentian Mountains, Quebec, Canada
Languages: Fluent: English, French, Spanish; Broken: Russian, German, Italian, Japanese, Arabic
Father: Johnathan Vasiley Williams
Mother: Mary-Lou Williams (born: Mary-Lou Parker)
Siblings: One younger sister: Katherine Williams
Family Status: Single
Body Type: Athletic
Hair Colour: Dark Brown
Hairstyle: Short, gelled up at the front (do you say it like this :o?)
Eye Colour: Brown/Green
Skin Tone: Moderately tanned
Body decoration: A black tattoo that looks like a gunshot wound on the left side of his lower back with blood dripping out of it and running from the wound onto the side of his left hip/upper left thigh (also in black). This is where he had his first actual gunshot wound and the tattoo is supposed to remind him that it could happen again at any time.
Background: Born to a British mother and a Canadian-Russian father, Alaric Arthur Williams was raised in Montreal, Canada. At the age of 15 he started experimenting with drugs and hanging out with the wrong people. Robberies, gang fights, drug abuse and binge drinking became his life. Whenever he did show up at home he was either coked up or drunk and at some point he just stopped going there completely. For some time it seemed like he was going to spend his whole life as a junkie on the streets but that was going to change just a few months before his 18th birthday. Arthur needed money for his dope, the only way to get money being begging or stealing, when he spotted a stranger whose appearance made him look like he didn't exactly belong into Arthur's district. The grey-haired, broad-shouldered man seemed like an easy victim to the drunk boy and he attacked him with a broken bottle. Long story short: the man was anything but an easy victim. After a fight lasting only a few seconds Arthur found himself pinned to the ground, the cold metal of a gun pressed against his forehead. He thought he was going to die but the older man's angry grimace quickly turned into a smirk as he holstered the gun and got up, pulling the boy back up with him in the process. The only thing Arthur could remember next was a nagging pain at the back of his head and his vision turning black.
He woke up in a basement. Turns out the man he had attacked, Victor, wasn't just some ordinary guy who had gotten lost. Victor was a 'problem-fixer'. For the right amount of money he got the job done whatever it was. However, the man was growing old and he had this crazy idea of turning Arthur into his successor. Naturally, the first things the boy felt were fear and panic which took a few weeks to fade away. What followed were curiousity, fascination and awe. Victor got him off the drugs and the alcohol and tought him the skills necessary to survive in his business. Years passed until Arthur was able to accompany his mentor-turned kidnapper on one of his missions for the first time. At the age of 24, Arthur took Victor's place as the man had gotten too old for the action, though he still helped Arthur by finding him jobs and assisting him when he was on missions.
-Fast and strong
-Can be impatient
-Sometimes naive (though he would describe himself as the complete opposite)
-Has a hard time controlling himself when he gets too close to dope
Casual Attire 1
Top: Tight-fitting black T-shirt
Bottom: Blue Jeans
Casual Attire 2
Top: Dark blue/wine-red checkered button-up shirt
Bottom: White skinny jeans
Top: Beige/hazelnut brown biker jacket (Underneath: cornflower blue, long-sleeve shirt)
Bottom: Washed-out blue jeans
Accessories: Big, black sunglasses
-HK45 (shoulder holster)
-M4 Carbine (back holster)
-M9 Bayonet (belt holster)
More equipment will be added later (have to do some heavy research first).
Will be added later (have to do some heavy research first).
(I might add some more details like favourite music/movies/etc., strengths and weaknesses,...)
Name: William C. Sheldon
Alias: William D. Vega
Body Type: Slim
Hair: Light Brown
Background: Born in Seattle, Washington, Henry Sether was always known as the strange kid. At age 16 he attempted suicide by drowning on a lake during summer camp. He then attended therapy for 3 years before reaching a stage of recovery. At age 19, he left Seattle and attended Stanford University. He studied in the pre-Med program at the university program and graduated at the top ten percent of his class. He returned to Seattle after that.
At age 24, he found himself stuck in the middle of a police case in Seattle. After helping the police solve the case, he decided to join the Army. He quickly rose up through the ranks, but was accused of treason and discharged at age 27. He now works as a freelance agent for various intelligence agencies.
Top: Casual shirt, dark blue denim jacket
Bottom: Blue jeans and usually tennis shoes
Top: Tight black t-shirt sometimes wears camouflage vest/jacket
Bottom: Camouflage cargo pants and combat knee-high combat boots
Walther P99, 9mm semi-automatic pistol (sometimes dual wielding)
M4 Carbine, assault rifle
Black waist holsters
Small field backpack with holster attached for rifle
Samsung Galaxy S Smartphone
I hope everything is in order.
Name: Claire Baker
Body Description: Slim, short brown hair.
Eyes: Deep blue
Short coat, reaching to her lower waist,
A pair of shorts reaching to her upper legs.
Two holsters are attached to her upper thighs, whilst two blade holsters are attached to the back of her waist.
She often wears a scarf around her mouth, a habit of a life of avoiding detection.
2x, M1911 handguns.
2x Kukri knifes
1x Pump shotgun
Claire was given away at birth, and taken under the care of a mysterious 'corporation' who trained her in the arts of death, deception and acrobatics,
her company exploited her as an assasin, however 3 years previous, Claire broke free from the 'corporation' and left to make her own life, tainted by the horrors of her shadow life...
Reference Photo; (Who I imagine my character to look like)
Name: Gloria Mayfield
Body Type: Average
Hair: Dark Brown
Background: From a young age, Gloria had a fascination with asking questions and trying to discover the inner workings of the universe. Her parents always used to joke that her favorite word was "why" due to her constant search for explanations of the world around her. She was very driven in her academic studies, skipping a few grades and ultimately pursuing math and the hard sciences in her quest for answers. Currently she is finishing up her doctorate program in genetics. To her surprise, her thesis paper has attracted a lot of attention from places she never expected...
Clothing: T-shirt and jeans most of the time, proper lab attire when working.
Equipment: A rifle (she enjoys target shooting in her spare time)
Aliases: Victor, Gustav Edwardson, Vladimir Popov, Harry Bailey
Date of Birth: Unkown (approx. 55-65 yrs old)
Place of Birth: Unkown
Current Residence: Somewhere in the Laurentian Mountains, Quebec, Canada
Languages: Fluent: English, French, Spanish, Russian, German, Portuguese; Broken: Japanese, Italian, Greek, Czech, Hebrew, Chinese (Mandarin), Arabic
Siblings: One brother
Family Status: Unkown
Body Type: Athletic
Hair Colour: Grey/white (originally black)
Hairstyle: Very short
Eye Colour: Ice-blue/grey
Skin Tone: Pale-slightly tanned
Body decoration: A large upside-down A spanning from his shoulders all the way down to his lower back. Meaning unknown.
Background: There's only very little known about the man calling himself Victor. He probably grew up somewhere in Central or Eastern Europe, possibly in the former UdSSR. Some sources say he was an orphan, others claim that he was born into a tradition-steeped military family and still others insist he is of noble descent (it is possible that he himself spread most of these rumours to create confusion). Victor first showed up on the international crime scene during the early 1980s as a weapons dealer. His primary customers were African militias and the South-African apartheid but he is also said to have smuggled weapons to South America and the Middle East. It is thought that he already started killing on contract during this period of his "career" but there is no actual evidence supporting this theory.
In 1988, Victor suddenly dropped off the radar for several years until he was spotted again in Paraguay in 1995. It is unknown what exactly happened during these seven years but Victor had dropped out of the weapons business and from 1995 on he is known to have contract-killed at least 18 people. That's not the only service he offers, though, for the right amount of money, he is going to do almost any job thrown at him. Since 2008 Victor has been off the radar again.
Top: Dark grey button-up shirt
Bottom: Black jeans
Accessories: Rolex Quartz Date
Top: White shirt, red tie, dark grey suit, black topcoat
Bottom: Dark grey suit
Accessories: Black leather gloves
Will be added later (have to do some heavy research first).
Will be added later (have to do some heavy research first).
Name: Laura Rosen
Alias: Rose Laurel
Body Type: Slim, not very athletic, quite short (155 cm/about 5 ft tall)
Hair: Dark brown, long, usually on a ponytail
Eyes: Blue, some consider the tone oddly bright
Background/About the Character: Not much is known about Miss Rosen, but she's a well-educated, sophisticated woman. She likes to observe situations and plan her moves carefully. Her knowledge of psychology is wide, and she likes to ponder about things a lot. Miss Rosen doesn't like to talk about her family or relatives, and it seems that she's a bit of "a lone wolf"...
No one has ever seen her abilities in martial arts, people tend to think that such a tiny woman doesn't have such hobbies. But they're wrong! Miss Rosen is very talented in Aikido (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aikido). Using guns has never been her thing, but if pulling the trigger is absolutely necessary, she might be able to do it, theoretically at least.
Casual Attire: Usually wears dresses, sleek jackets, high heels and such.
Field Attire: Camouflage combat uniform, that suits Miss Rosen's bodytype well.
Equipment: one Mora knife (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mora_knife) placed and hidden carefully to her left foot's shoe, whether it's a boot or a high-heeled shoe.
RPG is commencing shortly...
The year is 2012. An organization called SPECTRE (SPecial Executive for Counter-Intelligence, Terrorism, Revenge and Extortion) have stolen nuclear weapons and a deadly nerve agent called Nova 6 and plan to weaponize the nerve agent and unleash it on parts of the globe. The Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) have sent out some of it's best operatives to work together and put an end to SPECTRE's scheme once and for all.
In the CIA headquarters of Langley, Virginia, Director Devlin handed each of his agents a dossier on SPECTRE, Nova 6, and the terrorists involved. "Do you understand your assignment?" the director asked. The agents spoke a word of positivity. "This is a covert operation. You'll have full agency assistance, but you're restricted to back up from other agents but yourselves. We can't let anyone else learn of our problem here."
Agent Vanek looked up. "Sir, I must ask...what is SPECTRE's endgame?"
The director frowned. "That we don't know, Vanek. We need you lot to find out. Dismissed."
Remember: from here on in, you're to submit a post saying "I'm writing..." or "Writing in progess..." or anything of the likes so other members know to wait. Then, edit your post with your contribution. Please do not double post. Enjoy! :)
Somewhere in the Laurentian Mountains, Canada.
“You know, you should really get used to some of this again,” he said swinging the glass of Whiskey from side to side right in front of the younger man’s lips, grinning mischievously.
“No. No, I shouldn’t. And I won’t and you know that,” the other man said sternly but he couldn’t suppress the giggle that was forming in his throat. Still, he pushed the glass away.
“Yes, you should. You’re drawing attention to yourself by always saying ‘I’ll just have water’. People will remember you as the ‘just have water’-guy and you don’t want them to remember you,” the older man said taking another sip of Whiskey.
“What are you? My mother? Seriously, Victor! I can take care of myself.”
“Yeah. Just like in Budapest, eh?” Victor’s grin grew wider…
“Oh no, you didn’t!”
“Oh yes, I did,” wider…
“C’mon! That’s not fair. She, she…”
“She was 5ft tall and she beat the crap outta you,” Victor burst out laughing.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” the other man rolled his eyes and pouted.
“Haha. Arthur! You’re worse than a baby, you do know that, right?”
Arthur was just about to answer when the email alert set off. It was probably for the better.
Victor sat down in front of the computer display and opened the email.
“What is it? Your friends with the blue pills again?” Arthur asked, clearly trying to get his revenge on the older man.
“No...no, not exactly,” whispered the other one as his eyes grew wide.
Miss Rosen rushed to the CIA headquarters, in Virginia. "Why, why, why, WHY must I always be late on such an important case as this?!" she kept asking herself while running through the streets. She reached the main entrance, but there was a guard standing on her way.
"Sorry, little lady, you can't get in," the guard said, with a stupid smile on his face when looking down towards Laura.
"But I have to! The Director invited me!" Laura insisted, her voice was almost like whisper because she was so exhausted.
"Yeah, right... Look, little lady, if you don't leave now I'll carry you out of here, you're catching too much attention".
"Cathing too much attention, eh? Well, here's some attention for you!" Laura shouted and punched the guard to his stomach.
"And stop calling me a little lady, if you don't want another punch" she continued, completely calmly.
Then Laura walked straight in, but apparently the meeting regarding the assignment had just ended, since there were agents all around the hall, everyone was looking through their dossiers. Dossiers, that Laura didn't have. She saw one dossier laying on a table in the meeting room, where the director still was.
"You're late, Miss Rosen." he said, with a slightly amused tone.
"I'm very sorry... I had to..."
"No need to apologize. Now take your dossier, and if you have anything to ask, just come to see me, okay?"
Confused about the director's oddly friendly and informal being, Laura just took the dossier and went out. "What's up with him? He's not normally like that..." she pondered while walking outside, passing the guard she had just punched, who looked at her with fear in his eyes.
William’s heart skipped a beat when he received the dossiers about SPECTRE from the CIA’s Director. Why did this keep happening to him? His job as a free-lance agent was turning out to be a lot more difficult and complicated than what he had imagined. Just a few weeks ago, he had received orders from SPECTRE to release a prototype of the Nova 6 Agent to an armed guerrilla in South America. He tried hard not to scream in frustration.
“Dismissed.” William heard the Director announce.
He got up and walked out, trying hard not to call any attention on himself. Once out in the hall, William flipped through the dossiers in his hand. They were very detailed about SPECTRE’s past plots and contained lots of information on the Nova 6 Agent. William smirked as he remembered the words SPECTRE’s leader had said to him; all of this information is Top Secret. Even only a few of our own agents know about it.
He shoved the dossiers into his backpack and walked out of the CIA’s headquarters. His mind swirled wildly. What was he supposed to do now? Keep going with SPECTRE’s plan or change to the good side? The thought gave him a hammering headache. William sighed and headed to his car. He needed a cold beer.
Mason made his way to the firing range near the armoury, a HK USP handgun in his left hand and a pen in the other as he signed his name into the register. He smiled once at the receptionist and made his way to the door, grabbing goggles and earplugs on the way. He found himself a nice spot toward the far end of the range and pressed the buzzer for the target. His protective eyewear and earplugs were on in one swift motion and soon after, a succession of gunshots, resulting in perfect shots through the head and chest of the target.
"Good to see my marksmanship is still top notch," he commented. "I'm going to need it if I'm to meet with that old friend of mine in New York."
He left the firing range and was about to head for the parking lot when he bumped into one of his fellow agents, assigned to the same case.
Laura kept walking towards her apartment near the headquarters, she heard a slight noise of a gunshot from the firing range. "Gah! I hate those things!" she thought. It might be a bad idea for a person working for the CIA to live near the headquarters, but Laura isn't bothered by that: people might think she's just a receptionist or something.
At her home, things weren't right. Someone had been there! But nothing was stolen, there was a packed suitcase on her bed with a plane ticket on top. The flight was to New York. In the suitcase, there were her combat uniform alongside with some casual clothes, a bunch of Mora knives, hidden in a way that they wouldn't be noticed at the airport. And last but definitely not least: there was a gun. "I won't be needing this" she whispered to herself, and put it on the bed.
"Oh, yes you are!" a male voice said behind her. "Do you really think that you can make it without one? Come on, you're supposed to be a psychologist or something, do some thinking!"
Claire examined the male's shooting from the door of the firing range, her eyes narrowing at his good shot. Not wanting to engage the male in conversation, she passed him quickly, letting her eyes dip to the ground, and drew her kukri knifes from their sheaths and advanced on one of the firing ranges next to the male, instead of using her handguns, she commenced throwing the knifes at the bullseye, hitting the centre each time.
She leaped over the edge of the firing range and walked towards where her knifes were embedded in the wall. She wondered if she should bother trying to socialise with the other agents, but shook her head.
'What friendships will benefit me.' Before quickly dipping her vision once more, imagining she would need no more practice, she sheathed her knifes quickly and folded her arms and began to walk out.
Laura turned around and saw an unknown man standing in front of her. The man was smiling mischievously, and gave her one more dossier with the title "What should an agent know when woking in the field".
"It should answer all your questions", he said. "Since you're not a real agent, the director thought it'd be a good idea to give you a manual on agent's work. And remember: always think twice before telling people your real name! Now, get back to the headquarters and go to the firing range. You really need some practice with guns."
"Aren't you going to introduce yourself? Even though I'm only responsible of the psychological evaluatuions on CIA agents and trauma rehabilitation after shocking events, I do know at least something about working in the field! I've done it before! Remember Budapest? And the director knows very well how I feel about guns!" Laura answered, she was annoyed with the man's attitude.
"I have no need to introduce myself, and I'll leave you to think about the upcoming mission. Take care of yourself," he said, and left.
Laura tried to see where he went by looking through her bedroom window, but the man made a classic disappearance without any tracks. She found it best to do as she was asked to, and went towards the firing range. Laura saw from a distance some familiar looking agents. "Hmm... That's Mason something heading for the parking lot, can't remember his last name. He passed the psychological evaluation that I was observing a while ago very well," she thought.
In the firing range Laura's hands started to shake. She couldn't even hold a gun. There were some knife marks on a nearby target wall. "That must have been Claire throwing her kukri knives. Maybe I should give it a try too". Laura took her trusted Mora from its special case attached to her shoe, and threw it towards the target. It hit right in the middle of the target's chest. "Not bad", she thought and smiled.
Laura left the firing range, without firing a single gunshot. "I know how I'll manage to survive on this assignment without guns. I've done it before. What would make this one so different".
Mason recognized the agent.
"Claire. I thought that was you in the range with your kukri knives. I apologise for not saying hello; any socialisation would have distracted me."
He reached into his pocket for his car keys and found them a moment later.
He eyed the keys and smiled at the familiar logo of his German automobile.
"How've you been? I trust you've been assigned the same task, then?"
Chase soared through the bustling streets, cursing people who managed to get in his way. He had no time to be civil: behind him a group of gun toting men carved a way through the now panicked citizens. They were members of SPECTRE, a group Chase had accidentally upset during his time as a petty criminal a few months earlier. He had disrupted a private facility belonging to the elusive group; Chase may have earnt a feeble amount of cash from the job, but he had stirred a hornet's nest.
The men were drawing closer, the blasts from a shooting gallery across the street drowning out their own wild gunfire. Chase spotted a man, standing nearby, holding out his car keys, as if waiting to be snatched. He darted towards him and snatched the keys, planning to take his escape to the roads...
Mason gave me permission for a late entry to the party :p
Name: Richard [REDACTED]
Body Type: Athletic
Background: Born in the UK, raised in the US. Entered the US Air Force via ROTC for two years, joined the French Foreign Legion after being discharged. After military service, Richard embarked upon a person quest to pursue ancient artifacts and myths. Well known procurer of rare and valuable antiquities. Gambler and risk taker. Has the ability to drop off of the map for extended periods. Has known residences in Cape Cod, Tibet, Lakenheath, and Cairo. Resourceful and thinks outside the box, determined.
Top: Assorted surf brand t-shirts, olive or charcoal henley shirt(alternately a khaki safari shirt and red bandana)
Bottom: Dark blue or black jeans, combat boots
Accessories: Doxa dive watch, Rayban sunglasses, concealed Walther PPK or Makarov
[See Casual Attire]
Shoulder holster(alternately a drop-leg holster)
2010 Aston Martin V12 Vantage[suspected stolen]
2010 Chevorlet Camero
Richard scanned the parking lot hesitantly as he pulled in, noticing only a few vehicles parked. He cut the ignition and rubbed his eyes, still feeling the effects of jet lag from his flight from Tibet. He groaned and reread the note in his hand. This was the right place alright. He stepped out of the vehicle and made his way towards the entrance to the agency.
As Richard stepped inside, a security guard approached and began to pat him down.
"Is this really necessary, I've got permission to be here..."
He was cut off as the guard removed the Makarov he'd kept in his belt.
"Can't be to careful these days y'know?' he said to the guard. The guard inspected the pistol then handed it back to him without a word. Rick shrugged and walked down the hall towards what appeared to be a briefing room.
As he stepped inside, he was greeted by the director. Richard picked up a file from the table and quickly flipped through it. As he scanned, he noticed the words "Terrorist organisation" and "Nova 6".
"You've really got the wrong guy for this y'know? I usually stick with things that don't kill-"
The director raised a hand and said "You possess a unique skill set which qualifies you for this mission. You're part of a team now. All that lone wolf stuff, you're leaving it behind, do you understand?"
Richard nodded slowly.
"Go and do what you do best, I suggest you brush up on your target shooting, you're going to need it. Dismissed."
Richard turned and followed the sound of gunfire to the shooting range. He took note of the names on the sign in sheet and signed himself in. He took aim and stared down the sights of his trusty Makarov. He'd have preferred his PPK, or even a Beretta for that matter, but it was all he had left in his Cape Cod residence. He proceeded to empty the clip into the target. Satisfied with the results, he signed out and made his way back to the parking lot. To his surprise however, rather than the rental car he'd taken, he was greeted by the sight of his "borrowed" Aston Martin V12 Vantage. Hopping inside, he saw a note from the director, as well as all of the vehicle's paperwork- in his name. Richard grinned, then put the vehicle into gear and left.
William stared at his third half-empty bottle of beer. The thought of betraying either the CIA or SPECTRE made him want to hang himself. He took the bottle and took a long, slow, refreshing sip. The cold drink made him feel better. He closed his eyes and sighed as he remembered the first time he had to betray someone like this.
“I thought you were on my side!” yelled Cynthia in anger.
“I was at first. I’m sorry. I do what’s best for me, Cynthia,” William replied coldly.
“And so apparently I’m no good to you? We are engaged! This was supposed to be our last mission together before marrying!!” she argued.
“Were engaged,” he interrupted her.
“NO!” Cynthia screamed, pulling out her gun.
William quickly drew out his own gun and fired at Cynthia’s chest. She grimaced in pain, fell to her knees, and hit the ground with a thud and a groan. A tear ran down William’s cheek while he searched her house for the one item that would get him out of the police case he got stuck in. When he found it he left the house without looking once at the dead body of her fiancé.
Outside the firing range, Laura heard something that made her very nervous: Gunfire! And it definitely wasn't from their shooting gallery!
She carefully looked at the crowd, plenty of people there. But some panicked citizens made it clear, that there was something dangerous going on.
A man bursted out from the crowd, there were some other armed men following him. Laura took cover by dashing behind one nearby statue, and observed the situation from a safe distance. The man didn't get caught.
"Something tells me those men must be members of SPECTRE, their appearance just gives me the creeps", Laura thought by herself and slowly came out from her hiding place, making sure that it was safe. "But why no one is arresting them? Couldn't anyone else hear the gunfire or did it blend in with the one coming from the firing range so well that nobody noticed it?"
The armed men turned away and they disappeared into the crowd, acting naturally like nothing happened. One of them took a look behind, right into Laura's eyes, and then kept walking away. A bald man, with a tattoo on the back of his head, a scar on his face that went from his right eyebrow to the left side of his chin.
She hoped that the man wouldn't pay any special attention to her, it would make the assignment much more difficult, if SPECTRE got any information on the people trying to stop their plans. "I need a beer. Now," Laura thought, and went to the bar she knew that the other people working for the CIA usually go to.
"Well, look who's here: William!" she noticed, but didn't say anything. She must have met almost every single one of the CIA agents by interviewing them and making psychological evaluations. "Looks like he wants to be alone, I'd better not bother him". Laura took one pint of beer, and went to sit in the corner.
Claire blinked, before turning to Mason and raised an eyebrow. She tilted her head slightly to the side and folded her arms.
"Any socialising is distracting I find." She murmured quietly, slowly stroking the handles of the kukri knifes, she finally stepped down to give him a slight smile, before leaning against his car.
"So... what am I meant to say?" She added playfully, laughing quietly.
As Richard pulled out of the parking lot, he saw two agents talking.
"That must be Mason and... Claire I think."
He shrugged and drove towards the hotel room he'd rented for the week. He'd barely had enough time to get himself familiar with the other team members before arriving, he needed some time to delve into what was really going on.
Richard pulled into the hotel lot and entered his room. He casually tossed the file onto the bed before collapsing onto it himself. He turned his head and saw that a note had been placed on his pillow.
"Bar. Half an hour." he read aloud. "Wonder what that means."
He let his eyes wander to the orange face of his Doxa dive watch. His thirty minutes were nearly up, he was going to be late as it was. Leaping off the bed, he snatched up the file and his Makarov. He was about to step outside when something in the back of his mind told him to bring a few extra clips for his pistol. Everything in order, Richard stepped out and started towards his car.
He parked the Aston Martin across the street from the bar and stepped out, noticing empty shell casings littering the streets, as well as the lack of people out and about.
"Huh, looks like maybe the extra mag wasn't a bad idea after all..." he mumbled to himself as he let his right hand rest on the grip of the Makarov. Richard wasted no time crossing the street and ducked into the bar. A quick scan and sigh of relief later, Richard made his way towards a few members of the team.
Mason smiled briefly. "Whatever you wish to say," he spoke quietly. He spotted an Aston Martin drive out of the parking lot and narrowed his eyes. "Shall we?" he asked, opening the passenger side door to his car. The two entered and followed the Aston Martin to a nearby hotel. Mason scanned the area for the driver and spotted a man with reddish-brown hair and smirked. The two agents waited patiently for the man to return and followed him to a nearby bar. Mason pulled the car up on the opposite side of the street and noticed the man duck into the bar quickly.
"We might've been spotted. Arm and brace yourself."
The two agents made their way to the bar as Mason cocked the slide of his Walther P99. He took a breath and kicked the door open, aiming his gun directly in front of him, but holstered it when he realized who was inside; his fellow agents from the CIA. "What's this then, some sort of secret meeting place?"
He lit a cigarette and pocketed his lighter. "I take it this isn't a purely social call."
"What's this, more agents?" Laura thought when she saw Mason, Claire and a man she hadn't seen before entering the bar. At the same moment she got a text message saying "The new guy is Richard, you can interview him later. Go on, take the lead."
"Erm..." Laura started. Eveyone looked at her, even William raised his eyes from his beer. The sudden attention made her nervous and her voice started to tremble. "There are a few locations that we're supposed to visit: New York, Prague, Manchester, Lima and Minsk. At least those are the ones that I've got in my notes. Who wants to go and where? I think it'd be wise if we split up, we can keep in touch with some field communicators and such provided to us by, umm, the company". She gave a mean look at the bartender, as if it was a warning not to listen so carefully.
"If no one has anything against it, I'll go to Prague after getting one thing from New York", Laura said, waiting the others to tell their opinions.
"And for your information, Richard, I'm Laura Rosen and actually more of a psychologist here, in charge of the evaluations and interviews on the employees", she continued, with a slight smile.
Claire rolled through the door a split second after Mason had opened it, her kukri knifes in both hands, she heard the slight sound of Mason's gun holstering, then straightened out of her roll, blushing slightly, she stepped back slightly and regained her cold attitude.
"Are we here to make friends?" She murmured quietly, quickly sheathing her kukri knifes she glanced up to the two agents, who looked slightly taken aback.
She leaned against the wall of which the door was kicked open, and folded her arms and looked out the window.
'Of all things to do Claire.' She thought sarcastically.
Chase ploughed through traffic in the stolen car, only to realise the SPECTRE agents had given up and blended back into the crowd. The streets began to tint red as the sun slowly dissapeared from sight. Chase had been driving for some time, trying to gather his bearings. He had recognised some people from the parking lot. His father had often held "private" meetings with high standing members of the military and government. A few of the faces he'd seen as a child seemed to be lurking throughout the area. Something was up.
Chase rummaged through the piles of paper and folders cluttering the car, and spotted a familiar type of file. A dossier, sleek in its presentation and straight to the point, lay underneath one of the many heaps. An attached photograph showed a familiar bald man, with a distinguishing scar running down his face. He bore a vicious grin. Beside the photo, the file itself was mostly blacked out, with only the word "SPECTRE" being of any significance. The only information Chase was able to scour from the folder was an address, a small warehouse where the man had been spotted before. Time to pay him a visit...
Chase pulled up at the side of the street and braced himself for what was about to happen. He armed himself with a 9mm pistol found under the passenger seat of the stolen car, then crept out into the dark, circling the small building to find a decent entry point. The warehouse was alive with voices, Chase could make out at least two or three shadows through a window. Three against one hardly seemed fair, but Chase only needed to send a message to SPECTRE to let him be. He decided to make an abrupt entry...
Chase shoulder barged through the front door, almost breaking his arm in the process. He aimed his pistol- only to be met with a double barrelled shotgun, staring him straight in the face.
"You've messed us about enough, kid." The bald man chuckled. Chase groaned and dropped his gun, dropping to his knees.
"Listen, I only took down that place because that's what I was paid to do. SPECTRE are nothing to me." The man withdrew his gun and gestured Chase to stand.
"SPECTRE are much bigger than you realise kid."
"How so?" Chase stalled, looking for a quick way to take the men out. He spotted a small generator to his side, he figured one hard kick would take out the power and cause a distraction. With none of the men actually aiming their weapons, he would have the chance to make some sort of a splash.
"We're big, powerful, rich, all that. But we're mostly about getting the job done."
"I bet." Chase cockily replied, before kicking the generator. the building went dark in a second, with sparks flying from the feeble box. Chase leapt into action, grabbing his pistol and putting a bullet in each of the supporting men. The bald man fired off inaccurate shots- the building was lit up with a blinding flash each time. Chase appeared from nowhere, his pistol now aimed at the man's forehead.
"Wait!" He cried out. "We're about getting the job done, and so are you!"
"What's your point?" Chase replied, blundered by his statement.
"You're pure SPECTRE material. A gun for hire? We pay well enough!" The offer had Chase stumped. He withdrew his gun and stopped for a moment. He needed money, being a petty criminal and gun for hire had barely kept him going. Could this be the offer he needed?
Mason eyed the woman called Laura and studied her carefully. 'Hmm,' he thought, 'Very timid that one. Lovely girl though. I do hope she's not squeamish at the sight of blood. He listened respectfully and attentively to her quiet voice as she offered her thoughts. He weighed the pros and cons in his head and frowned. "You're going to follow the lead in Prague then? Shall we divide into teams of two, seeing as there's ten of us and five locations to visit."
Mason glanced at Claire who was busy watching from the window. He took a step backward toward her and studied her briefly. There was something wrong in the way she analysed what was going on outside. Mason narrowed his eyes and focused on six men exit a black SUV and head toward the bar; he knew. "SPECTRE...but how did they...?"
There was no time to analyse the situation. Mason kicked over a table and equipped his handgun. "Take cover, now!"
The gunfire began.
Lara felt a bullet flew through her hair, missing scalping her by mere milimetres. She dived downwards and slammed into the ground, so shocked by the bullet she was momentarily stunned on the floor, she blinked as her right shoulder throbbed.
'Son of a bitch.' She thought, rolling forward under the window, waiting for a break in the gunfire, and yanked a shard of glass from the window, cutting her hand in the process, but gaining an unconventional and deadly weapon all the while. She was unwilling to throw her kukri knives, as she wanted to use them close range.
She flipped over the sill of the window into the street, landing in a thick flowerbed, she threw the shard of glass at one of the men, slicing through his neck instantly. She rolled forward once more, infront of two of the men, and sliced both of their throats, but gasped suddenly when she saw a barrel of a Desert Eagle brandished in her face.
She realised there was no was of getting out of this.
Mason crouched with his back against the table and watched as his fellow agents engaged in combat. He quickly turned and fired three shots into the chest of one of the men and ran for cover behind the door. He watched for movement and took out two more assailants by the window. He chuckled as he saw Laura launch herself through the window. Mason grabbed one of the machine guns that the enemy dropped and loaded it. He slammed the butt of the gun into the face of another man and in his peripheral vision, saw Laura being held at gunpoint.
Mason dropped the gun and charged at the gunman, leaping into the air and dropkicking the attacker. Getting up swiftly, Mason picked up the dropped Desert Eagle and fired a single shot to the man as Laura threw a kukri knife; the bullet landed between the eyes of the man and the kukri knife in the same spot not a moment after. "Well that's a neat trick," he smiled.
He walked over to the SUV where the men first emerged and got inside. It was definitely a vehicle provided by some sort of organisation; a GPS tracking device built into the dashboard, bulletproof tires, windows, and body, a compartment underneath the beverage cup holders for handguns and melee knives, and a self destruct system. Mason narrowed his eyes and moved the seat backward. He turned and moved underneath the steering wheel, his legs wrapped around the seat for support. He fiddled with the console and found a microchip the size of a potato crisp installed underneath the GPS. SPECTRE's logo was on it. "Talk about easy identification."
Mason disabled the microchip and dropped it into the nearest sewer for good measure. Pulling the SUV up to the bar, he hopped out and joined everyone in the bar. "Right. Well seeing as we're all equals here, I won't take point. But I will say that the men who just attacked us were as I'm sure you're aware, SPECTRE operatives. I'm not sure how they found us...but I have a theory: there's a mole within the CIA."
William tensed a little as he heard Mason mention the possibility of a traitor among the group. He wondered if SPECTRE had tracked him down to the bar. Most likely, yes. He almost flinched a bit at the thoughts of what would happen if anyone knew that he also was working along with SPECTRE. He couldn’t bear with it. He had to choose a side and soon.
He remembered Laura mentioning Lima as one of the possible locations for SPECTRE’s major projects with the Nova 6 Agent. That was the very same place he had to go to deliver the agent for SPECTRE. William sighed with relief. Perhaps he didn’t have to betray anyone this time. Perhaps he could go to Lima, deliver the Nova 6, and come back to the CIA with plenty of information.
It was a risky move, but it was worth the shot. William tried hard to hide the smirk on his face. He cleared his mind, and brought back his attention to the group of agents.
Richard flashed Laura one of his signature smiles then stepped into a corner, resting against the bar as Mason spoke. He felt uneasy about the scene outside. As a precaution he let his hand rest against his Makarov. He listened as Laura listed off the names of locations, a slight smirk appearing at the mention of "Minsk"
"I'd love to take Minsk, but the... security and I don't quite see eye to eye..."
Richard had "borrowed" a few items from a Minsk museum in the past as part of a personal quest, and he'd barely escaped the confrontation that arose, partly due to the fact that he avoided harming innocent people when possible.
He noticed that Mason seemed distracted, watching Claire who also looked like her mind was elsewhere. Suddenly he heard Mason's order to take cover and a bottle next to him exploded into millions of shards.
Dropping to the floor, Richard whipped up his handgun and squeezed off two rounds as he fell, miraculously taking out one of the assailants as they charged through the front door. He noticed that Mason and Claire were moving outside, taking the fight to their attackers. He clumsily followed, making sure to stuff a bottle of scotch into his leg pouch on his way out.
Richard provided covering fire as Mason made his way to the van. He ejected his empty clip and reloaded, very aware that he'd be SOL had he not had the foresight to stock up before he left. As Mason rummaged through the van, Richard kept an eye out for any stragglers. Content that there we none, he hopped into the passenger seat as Mason brought the van around.
"I used to have one of these back in Germany, similar set up. These guys really aren't playing around are they?"
He followed Mason back into the bar and stood next to Laura, taking a quick glance at everyone to make sure they were alright. It wasn't until he checked himself over that he noticed a small crimson stain in his shirt.
"Ahhh crap..." he sighed as he sat heavily in the nearest chair to see how bad the wound was.
The shooting at the bar was awful, Laura felt nausious after it. The fact that Richard was bleeding made the feeling even worse.
"Hey, let me take a look at that wound," Laura said to Richard.
"Doesn't look very bad, some simple first aid will do well," she continued and went to take a first aid kit from her bag.
After patching Richard up, she asked if he could go to Manchester instead of Minsk, and he agreed.
"I'll let you team up into teams of two, I have a flight to go to. The one of you, who doesn't get a pair, teams up with me and comes to Prague, okay? Use the communicator to get in touch with me. It doesn't matter where you are, the device makes it possible to contact anyone you want where ever you are. Agent engineering at its best," Laura said, sounding determined for the first time on this whole assignment.
She left the bar and went to her flight to New York. There was a certain someone she wanted to see...
- - -
After the flight Laura went to one nearby hotel. "There's a room by the name of Laurel, could you give me a key?" she asked, and got one right away. It was on the fifth floor. In the room, there was her acquaintance waiting for her.
"Hello, Laura. Umm, I mean Rose!" the man said.
"Shut up, Tommy! Do you have what I ordered?" Laura asked impatiently.
"There is a problem. I didn't manage to get it from my usual associate, but there's a guy called Alexander Morris, who lives in Quebec, who might be able to give you what you need", he answered.
"In Quebec?! I have other places to be in, you know and it's not that hard to get a high quality taser with the latest technology! Well, how do I find this Morris guy?"
"There's a bar that you really can't avoid seeing near the airport you'll be landing, he usually hangs around there. Ask the bartender if he's seen Alexander there, but don't let anyone know that you're not such a harmless, tiny lady as you look like."
Laura went back to the airport, and headed to Canada. "I'll make sure this will be just a short visit. I've got no time to waste, since I have to get to Prague too, to continue on the assignment" she thought. In Canada, it was easy to spot the bar her acquaintance, Tommy, had mentioned.
Inside, there were only few customers. Laura made a quick analysis on the situation: a man, who looks like a truck driver, one drunk guy and one smart-looking man, about her age, in the corner.
She went to the bartender and asked if he had seen Alexander Morris there, and for her surprise, she got an answer "Yes" from the bartender, and he pointed towards the smart-looking man. That Morris guy had a weird smile on his face, he was clearly up to something.
Laura walked towards him and introduced herself: "My name is, umm, Rose Laurel." The man stood up to shake her hand.
"Glad to meet you, I'm Alexander Morris", he said. Apparently he was amused by Laura's tiny appearance, she looked like she was lost in such a sleazy bar...
Arthur didn't like bars. But unfortunately, bars were an ideal place for not-so-legal meetings: dark and full of people whose minds were too cluttered with their own problems to stick their noses into his business. Victor had told him that the CIA lady was going to come here to meet up with Alexander Morris. Alexander Morris had been Arthur's first cover identity. A weapons dealer who got whatever you wanted without asking any questions. (Oh, and he wore glasses.)
However, the old man had not filled him in on the contents of the mysterious email he had received the other day. Victor had only told him as much as he needed to know which worried Arthur immensely.
And here he was with a chick who - in the dim light of the bar - could've easily been mistaken for a 14-year-old. He smiled politely at her as she introduced herself but amusement could clearly be seen in his eyes. Well, could clearly be seen by someone who was trained to see these kinds of things which this CIA lady most certainly was.
"I've heard you're looking for a TX-32? Those things aren't easy to get by, you know," he said after having introduced himself, "But, luckily for you, I was able to get my hands on some," his lips formed a smug smile, "How many do you want?"
"Just one, really," Rose said.
"I would rethink that. Take three and I'm gonna give you a special discount," smug turned seductive, "What do you say?" smile turned to grin.
"You see, Mr. Morris, I don't really care so much about any special discounts. But you seem like a very persistant person, so you probably wouldn't give up until I'd say I'll have three. So... Give me those three TX-32s, and I'll leave", Laura answered with an annoyed tone.
She was close to start shouting at Morris, his attitude was something that had always annoyed her. Laura was thinking about pretending to adjust her shoe and drawing out her Mora knife, if it'd speed things up a bit, but it wasn't a good idea. It'd give away too much information. So she decided to wait for Morris' reaction...
The CIA lady was clearly not a very good negotiator. She seemed to be on edge.
"Alright. I don't have the objects of your desire with me, of course. I'm sure you understand why. Let's take a walk to my car. It's parked just outside the airport," he tried a genuine, less sleazy smile.
This woman did not like him at all which meant he could just as well turn off the Morris-charm. He didn't really need her to like him. Not yet. Though her hating him would not exactly make it easier for him, either.
They went to Alexander's car. Neither of them said a word, the silence was quite awkward. Laura couldn't help thinking the possibility of Alexander realizing her true name, and details of CIA's assignment. She tried to keep her bag out of his sight, so he wouldn't wonder the amount of paper she had with her. Those were all the CIA dossiers and her personal notes about Nova 6 and SPECTRE. In case he'd ask something about them, Laura had decided to say that they're some paperwork related to her psychology studies.
Driving to their destination, which was a mystery to Laura, felt like it would never end. The landscape stayed pretty much the same for the whole time: dark forest on both sides of the road.
"So, how long will this take? It's getting a bit late and I should find a place to sleep," Laura said, breaking the silence.
Claire had decided to stay in the bar by herself whilst the other agents began to file out. She sat on a lone bar stool drinking vodka from a shattered glass.
'Where to hunt down SPECTRE now?"
She thought to herself, her eyes drifting to the mirror across the bar, she groaned at the gash across her right shoulder, thinking about returning to her homeland of Holland, wondering idly if SPECTRE would be located there.
Wondering if she would confer with Mason, he was the only agent she had had a vague conversation with, with this decision she pushed herself off her stool and cracked her shoulders before walking out into the street, keeping her eyes on her feet.
"A bit impatient, are we? We're almost there."
Arthur pulled into a narrow dirt road branching off from the street. While Rose hadn't seemed like a typcial CIA agent to him so far, she didn't seem nervous or scared, either, even though she was alone with a stranger in the middle of nowhere, he had to give her that. If anything, the little lady seemed annoyed.
Now that the silence had been broken and they were so close to their destination, it was time for phase 2 of Victor's plan to be put into action.
"I wasn't aware of the CIA making business with people like me," he said in a calm tone, still driving down the narrow road.
Rose stayed calm but he did see her left hand slowly moving downwards. 'Mora knife, left foot,' Arthur remembered the dossier saying.
"I know who you are and I know what mission you've been assigned to. And we both know you're too curious to slit my throat without having received some answers, Laura," he smirked. So far so perfect.
"How can you know all that?!" Laura asked, she was so stunned about the fact that Alexander had known her name and that she worked for the CIA right from the start.
She instantly dropped the idea of attacking him with her Mora, he would be prepared for that. She wouldn't have a chance to use any martial arts either, they were in a car sitting next to each other. He could easily defeat her. Laura also thought about grabbing the steering wheel, and driving off the road as a possible way of escaping but they both could get hurt. So that wouldn't be a good idea either... This Alexander wasn't what she had thought him to be, a harmless weapons dealer. Now there's only one question left: Is he a friend or a foe?
"You clearly have something in your mind. Come on, just tell it right away. You're not going to just give me those tasers, there's also some other matters involved in this!" Laura demanded to know. "You're a member of SPECTRE, aren't you?!"
No matter how hard she tried to sound threatening, her voice started to tremble. Just like in the bar, when she had to take the lead and tell other members of the team about SPECTRE's possible locations... "As soon as he stops the car, I could try sending an emergency message via the CIA communicators, if things get tough. I hope someone from the team would notice it if I'll have to send one", she thought by herself, keeping her eyes on Alexander and observing his every move...
Mason flicked the cover of his lighter and lit a cigarette, his eyes scanning the street.
"I take it you have questions...Claire," he spoke, sensing her presence before she even opened her mouth.
He finished off his cigarette in silence and put it out before flicking it away from him. He removed his cell phone from his pocket and dialled a number. "Yes, it's me. Listen, I need a chartered flight to New York straight away. Yes, I understand. No, I don't care about the bloody price. Yes, thank you. Ciao."
He smiled. "Come, we'll talk on the way," he gestured to his car and opened the door for her.
Mason was sure it was going to be an interesting drive.
Richard let out a sigh of relief as he noticed that the bullet had merely grazed his side. He was still thankful for Laura patching him up though. She handed him a communicator. He held it up to his face and in a very fake Scottish accent said
He chuckled to himself then realized that nobody else was laughing.
"No...? None of you fans of...? Ah forget it."
Richard looked around at the others.
"So... who's teaming up with me? Or am I flying solo?" he asked.
I have an idea; why don't we all work together in each location, tracking down SPECTRE, that way we may communicate and play with everyone? :)
It was obvious to Laura that Alexander wouldn't answer to her questions before they had reached their destination. He just kept smirking. He had said that they were "almost there", but how long would it take?
The car turned in a curve, "This is it, we're very close", Laura thought. Omnious curves are usually the sign of coming closer to a destination... She heard a slight beep of her CIA communicator, too bad she couldn't take a look at the message that Mason had sent: "Let's all meet up in New York. It might be wiser to track down SPECTRE as a one group. I've informed the others."
If Laura had thought about that while she was in New York, she wouldn't have had to come to Quebec in the first place, and end up driving somewhere with Alexander...
There was a house with lights on in the middle of nowhere, the dirt road lead to there. Alexander stopped the car near the house and opened the car door for Laura. She didn't even bother to say thanks, she gave a mean look at him instead. He walked her to the house, staying close enough to stop her if she tried to run.
Inside, Laura checked her communicator and saw Mason's message. "Oh crap! I shouldn't have left New York!" she thought.
Alexander noticed it and took the communicator from her and looked at the message. His grin was wider than ever, he almost bursted into laughter.
"You won't be needing this for a while," Alexander said and kept the communicator.
"Give it back!" Laura demanded. Because he didn't do so, Laura decided to repeat her demand, but to make sure Alexander knew she was serious, she drew out her knife. She dashed towards him, and held the knife on his throat.
"I said, give it back!" Laura repeated her demand, sounding furious.
Shocked by Mason's perceptivness, she fumbled with her words momentarilly, before regaining her way with words.
"Well uh... I was thinking where I'm too track Spectre, but I want to go back home to Holland..."
She murmured quietly, stepping into the car as she was offered the door.
"Thanks..." She mumrmured quietly, shifting her holsters around from her waist so she could sit comfortably.
Mason started the engine of his German automobile and pulled into the street. His previously played song blared through the surround sound speakers of the vehicle, making Claire and himself flinch. He lowered the volume with haste and continued driving, blinking his eyes ferociously at the feeling of a headache developing. Making small talk, he occasionally turned to Claire briefly, still keeping his eyes on the road. "You mentioned something about wanting to go back home. I don't mean to sound controlling, Claire, but we really ought to follow these leads first."
He narrowly avoided a red light as he increased in acceleration as the traffic lights turned yellowish-orange. He turned onto Alabaster Court and took a left down a narrow one-way onto the next main street. Mason swallowed hard and weaved in and out of traffic, his peripheral vision catching Claire giving him a concerned glare. She turned in her seat and took a breath. "Mason, that Volvo..."
"...has been following us for the last mile," he finished her sentence. Mason eyed the pursuing vehicle in the rear view mirror and smirked. He turned the next left corner and slammed on the accelerator, whizzing past vehicles left and right. He slowed down as he turned right and doubled back onto the main street once again. "Claire, hand me the M1911 from under the glove compartment." Claire did as he instructed and held out a nickel plated Colt pistol with ivory grips. Mason, still focusing on the road ahead, quickly eyed the rear view mirror and put his left hand out the window, clutching the gun. A moment later, a succession of gunshots was heard, alarming the civilians walking the streets. Several bullets hit the black Volvo's hood and windshield, evidently missing the driver as the car pressed onward.
Mason tossed the gun in the back seat for the ammunition ran out. He reached under his seat and pulled out a Desert Eagle handgun. "I'm going to need you to put your seat belt on," he politely spoke. He waited for a clearing in the road and slammed on the accelerator once more. Mason turned the steering wheel all the way to the left and slammed on the brakes. His vehicle began to rotate counter-clockwise; he aimed at the Volvo's driver and opened fire, the bullets having penetrated the window, killing their pursuer. Mason straightened out the vehicle after its 360 degree spin and pressed onward. Through the rear view mirror, he watched the car tumble and crash into a tree. He smiled, but quickly frowned when another Volvo sped toward them from behind.
"Goddamn it." The Volvo caught up with them and the passenger put four bullets from his Glock 18 into the rear tire, causing it to burst. Mason's car lost control and spun counter-clockwise, involuntarily this time. The vehicle skidded on the side and began to flip over, tumbling down the street. Mason woke up some time later to the smell of smoke, completely restricted and trapped inside the burning vehicle with Claire.
Claire moaned quietly, black steam began to emit from the dashboard of the car.
She saw her kukri knifes embedded in the dashboard, this was causing the steam.
"Get out!" She exclaimed, grabbing one of her handguns, whilst sliding out of the upturned car window, using her free hand to propel herself out, staying on her knees, she reached a hand into Mason to help him out.
Arthur had suspected that Laura was going to try something funny but that didn't mean he was not startled for a second when she actually did attack him. A smile crept back into his face but it quickly vanished when he felt the CIA lady's knee shoot up into his private parts. Okay. Well, maybe he had underestimated the situation. But he was still sure that he could make everything work out just fine.
"You really didn't have to do that," he said, some pain could still be heard in his voice, "I was simply going to give you the weapons you asked for."
Even though he was kind of telling the truth, he could see that Laura wasn't exactly buying it. He just hoped she would be reasonable enough to calm down and listen to him.
Mason clutched the hand Claire offered him and with her assistance, pulled free from the wreckage, sustaining minor cuts from the broken glass and a solid gash as he was pulled over a piece of broken glass protruding from the driver side window. He clutched as his side as the blood slowly oozed out, revealing that the wound wasn't too serious. Mason looked around for any sign of their attackers but could spot no one hostile. Many civilians came rushing over to offer help, but the two agents hurried away and crouched behind a nearby mailbox, visibility from the street blocked by a large truck.
"Are you all right?" he asked Claire.
She nodded quietly and held her handgun tightly, keeping close watch for any hostile movements.
Mason tore his t-shirt down the middle and lifted his black undershirt, tying the torn garment around his torso to apply pressure to the wound. He lowered his undershirt and pressed the wounded area, the blood seeping through only slightly. "Damn." He removed his small, silver handgun from the back of his pants and cocked the slide. "Claire, we ought to move."
Rick had just gotten off the plane in Manchester when Mason's message came through.
"Ohhh, why the hell am I here if we're supposed to be teaming up together now?" he sighed, but couldn't suppress a slight smile.
He made his way back to the ticket counter and got a return flight, making sure that the bill went through to the CIA. He flashed the woman behind the counter a quick smile and made his way to the terminal. He felt slightly uncomfortable though. As he walked over to one of the cafes to get a drink, he noticed someone by a kiosk watching him. Richard quickly paid for his drink and circled around the room, staying out of sight of his spy. He then walked behind the kiosk and casually stood next to the woman.
"Like what you see?" he asked casually.
He had obviously caught her off guard, but she quickly brandished a small pistol and aimed it at him.
"Hey hey hey, let's go grab a drink, talk this out?" he quickly shot out.
The woman didn't seem phased. Suddenly, he caught her peeking over his shoulder. Knowing things were about to get unpleasant he lunged at her, pushing the pistol away from them. Screams rang out as the handgun went off.
"Sorry dear!" Richard quickly said with a look of sympathy as he pistol whipped the woman, then ducked behind the kiosk as another attacker opened fire.
"Think think think think think!" He muttered to himself. He looked out the nearby window and noticed that there was a utility car on the tarmac, a bit farther beyond it was a Beechcraft King Air plane being serviced for takeoff. Taking a few deep breaths, Richard charged out from behind the kiosk, popping off a couple shots at his assailants, then into the glass window in front of him. He prayed that he'd shot it enough and threw himself through the window. He landed in a roll and fumbled his way over to the car. As he hopped in he put the pedal to the floor and made a beeline for the plane. The car came to a halt and Richard jumped out, making a mad dash up the stairs into the plane. Luckily it was empty and he closed the door, then sat in the cockpit and stared blankly at the controls.
"Okay... just like in that flight simulator... right? right?" he said to himself. He let out a short desperate laugh and put his hands on the controls. He was painfully aware that he had only ever actually flown a plane once. Through skill and a healthy dose of luck, Richard managed to get the plane off the ground and into the air just as his assailants made their way to the tarmac.
Richard settled back in his chair and let out a sigh.
"Okay... so now how do I land this thing?"
"How come I find it a bit hard to believe that you were only going to give me the tasers, Alexander?" Laura asked.
Alexander was about to answer, but didn't do so. Instead, he kept his eyes on the knife, didn't want to get a cut in his throat. At the same time he hid the CIA communicator, hoping that Laura wouldn't notice it.
Laura decided to give him some room, so she backed down and sat on a nearby chair, still keeping her Mora knife in her hand, pointing at Alexander. "If he'd just go now and get the tasers, then I'd be free to go to New York," Laura thought. She also still kept wondering, why he hadn't answered to her questions. "Who is this man? And how does he know everything?". Questions flew in her mind, without answers. Being in a cottage in the middle of nowhere, at night with a stranger (at least she assumed there were only she and Alexander in the cottage) wasn't exactly an ideal situation for her.
"Even one wrong move, I'll throw this knife right to your chest!" Laura threatened, as Alexander apparently went to get those TX-32s. She tapped the floor impatiently with her feet, waiting for him to come back.
"We wouldn't want that now, would we?", Arthur let out a laugh but if you listened carefully, you could hear that he wasn't actually amused.
He headed for the adjacent room, pleasantly surprised that Laura wasn't following, and hid the CIA communicator beneath a loose floorboard, careful not to make any suspicious noise.
Okay. So his plan had pretty much gone overboard now. How was he going to get this stubborn little thing to let him in on the investigation? Arthur considered several options. He needed more time which meant he had to stop her from leaving. While he grabbed the gun cases with the TX-32s and returned to Laura, he thought of ways to disable her car without her noticing.
Laura was pleased to see Alexander returning with the tasers.
"Well, it's about time for me to get those!" she said, with a smile on her face.
She even holstered her knife to its case in her shoe, didn't think that she'll need it for a while. Alexander stepped forward towards Laura and gave her the gun cases. He clearly was relieved when Laura wasn't pointing him with a knife anymore. Laura put the cases in her bag, and started to head towards the door, without remembering the CIA communicator.
"No, wait a minute!" Alexander said as Laura was about to grab the handle of the door. "You can't leave yet!" he continued.
Something wasn't right. "Why doesn't he want me to leave? After the attack, I'd think he'd be very happy if I left", Laura thought. She pondered about different options, and despite the fact that she should be in New York as soon as possible she decided to stay, at least to hear what he had in his mind. "Perhaps I find out more about this Alexander Morris and what's he about if I stay..."
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