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Post by Lunapocalypse on Mar 11, 2010 12:22:49 GMT -5
A little more well suited for the special forces of the B.S.A.A. Ideally comfort seemed the most important thing too keep all of the S.T.A.R.S. agents concentrating on the information being passed to them. Anyone should know it doesn't matter what conditions you're in if you're a pro... Regardless, there's a huge LCD screen at the front of the room which all of the information shows up on and an oval tabel that all of the members sit at. Plus relatively comfy swivle chairs.
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Post by #+h3 M!$+3r P@r@d0x on Apr 6, 2010 10:59:10 GMT -5
The Dance with the Serpent - Act 1
B.S.A.A. / Tricell joint operation
The S.T.A.R.S. meeting room sat quietly with a fair sense of anxiousness plaguing the air as those that would have accepted the Tricell mission sat in their respected seats around the oval table. A recently installed Hologram Linking System now hangs almost un-noticeable from the ceiling of the room, decorated in purple and orange glistening runes… fancy to say the least but it struck the tastes of the one who funded it. The Linking System itself hums gently as if it was initiating some sort of transmission at the moment yet nothing was truly visible. Small purple and orange static charges were created to form a twirling vortex of light to initiate the “ON” feature.
The sides of the room are prepared with delicious appetizers ranging from shrimp to mozzarella sticks… the aroma of the delicious smells further enhanced by a ever so delicate layout of carnations and Sparkling Clear Water, Tropical Punch, Soda, and Wine… to meet the needs of those that desired a drink. This was a typical thing for a meeting of the caliber. Tricell Spokesperson Mr. Hammond Marlboro always enjoyed entertaining others while he got his point across. This meeting was not to be any different by any means. These people were to be honored as any Tricell Operative was… lavished with the finer things in life.
The meeting was not to take place for a few more minutes this would give the operatives time to enjoy the dishes set about before them and mingle with their fellow members they decided to add along until the Hologram would show ’The Speaker’ which was known to be Mr. Hammond Marlboro. But for now they could look over a pamphlet and discuss it amongst themselves.
[glow=red,2,300]{ Welcome my friends to this very important event. Fill free to indulge in the complementary bar I have had added. I am well aware that your men have been watching my caterers like a hawk from the second they have arrived… they are here to serve you to the fullest intent. I look forward to our meeting as it will mean a great deal to me to acquire suitable agents for such a delicate task. Tricell thanks your arrival and offers its resources at your disposal.} [/glow]
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Post by Lunapocalypse on Apr 6, 2010 13:36:36 GMT -5
Kait never made a habit out of being late to a meeting; as a matter of fact, meetings that were requested by people who funded the BSAA were the most important meetings you could imagine. However for some god awful reason he'd managed to hold himself up, there was so much on his plate this past week that the General actually felt like he was getting old with age for the first time. For this effect he was ten minutes off schedule; so long as the person on the other end didn't have a busy one themselves he'd be right in not screwing up the 'good thing' they had with their sponsors. Kaits secretary ran to keep up with his huge, broad steps mumbling garbage about other meetings and requests he had later on in the day. It was all phased out from his selective hearing, tuning in to the sound of the running water along one of the winding fountains down the corridor of West Wing.
The double doors of the STARS meeting room came into view, traditional STARS emblem embedded into the middle which would break in half once the doors swung open. Shallow murmurs of conversation were heard all around the room; everyone had arrived, except... Kait raised his brow, "Sorry for being late. Small debacle with a missing C3 over Kuwait; 'fraid we might have lost three months worth of supplies for the colony there, just had to clear up a team to check it out," he stepped in and quickly took a seat at the head of the table, the General ignoring the distractions set out and around him quickly flicking open his folder and breezing through important information. He looked over his reading glasses, "Accept the link," with that single command everyone in the room cleaned up their posture, finished their conversations and placed their attention directly to the front of the room. Discipline among many; Kait made this clear among his staff, and it made the BSAA that much more strong.
Emptiness still harrowed the room though, Lann realised that the one noticeably empty chair was indeed still empty; grinding his teeth, he shook his head and removed his glasses clasping his hands on the table as the image of the Tricell Inc. member came to existence. The lights dimmed in the room, that was only to improve holographic quality; it didn't affect anyone in the meeting nor the representative on the other line as it would be exactly the same case for them too. Kait breathed heavily out his nose before speaking, "Mr. Marlboro. It's a pleasure to have you among us at such a time. You'll have to excuse that one of my STARS agents is missing, but she can catch up once she gets here. She's clever like that," Kait explained himself and the agent in question, keeping things into consideration, "Now..." he leaned forwards ever so slightly, raising an eyebrow "...What is it that we can do for you today?"
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Post by #+h3 M!$+3r P@r@d0x on Apr 6, 2010 16:56:34 GMT -5
Coming into view was a rather well dressed man sitting in a half egg-shaped chair that rotated around almost like clockwork when the link opened and his name was mentioned. The cool calm almost mechanical nature of Mr. Marlboro could be apparent for anyone that knew the type of strictly business person he was. His eyes gleamed sharply with the intent to show total concentration on the task at hand. One hand rested on the side arm as the other swayed with a glass of wine to the direct left of his mouth as though he had finished sipping it. With a brief pause he lowered the glass to a small shatter-proof glass table to the side, fitted with a coaster with the Tricell Logo. A abrupt smile crept across his face as the view of the S.T.A.R.S. room came into effect and history seemed to flood his mind.
He had noticed that a few people from the memo’s were not present… That would have to be fixed during the next process… For now he should focus on the task at hand. Seemingly everything else was in order from start to finish as the people in the room reminded his of his Toy Soldiers as a child… always falling in line before in casually ripped their heads from their bodies. But, this was not the case… These people were more beneficial to his cause alive than dead. Not everyday that a Tactical Team Capable of Legally taking down your competition just falls into your lap. Oh no no…. This was a most glorious moment.
“ Believe me, the pleasure is ALL mine … I have taken the liberty to have my men to deliver a vast amount of ammunitions and weaponry to your Armory… I was sure that you would not mind. Your men deserve just as much affection in these times as my own men do. I will not stand by and watch any miscalculations in such a chaotic time… become a fatal one.”
He delivers a small hand gesture signifying unimportance.
“ Do not worry, I do in fact have a assignment that requires a more straight forward approach that my men are unable to attend to at the time. The target area is controlled by a group of Bio-terrorists that code themselves with the name of { The Serpents Kiss }… It is fact known by one of my own contacts that the groups codename derives from a lethal substance that has been used previously in the past by Russian Elitists to enhance the muscular builds of anyone who is injected with it. This {Kiss} effect lasts for up to 22 Days before the subject is rendered hopelessly bedridden for up to a month. My genetics team has put together a scenario stating that this {Kiss} can be used to further the Hot zone time of anything with genetic coding… I.E. Viral, Bio-logical, and Chemical.”
He opens a file folder to his direct left.
“ Interesting… It even seems that the Terrorists have made demands to our Company demanding a large amount of supplies or they will release the substance into one Colony every week until their demands are made. I do not negotiate with terrorists… That is where your Order comes in.”
Hammonds facial features change more to a anxious view upon the S.T.A.R.S chamber as he closes the pamphlet and slides it to the side. His expression is that of complete seriousness as he begins to speak yet again.
“ Time is of the essence… {Serpents Kiss} must not be released with whatever substance they are imposing on us. We have exactly one week to react.”
He would await a response.
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Post by .Merios on Apr 6, 2010 18:13:55 GMT -5
Spencer had arrived from the Firing Range only moments before the communication began. Though, he wasn't sitting down. He still didn't like the idea of TriCell, and he was still warming up to the whole ranking system. Although this was primarily a S.T.A.R.S. mission, he brought himself into the conference room anyway, assuming a joint-op would be in the best interest of preservation of life. Although the S.T.A.R.S. are talented, they're a rather.. Specific type of group, whereas the B.S.A.A. would serve Spencer's own interests much better than the new breed of white dwarfs. Yes, Spence was late, but it was only by a few seconds- he was leaning up against the wall beside the main entrance door. He listened as Mr. Marlboro spoke, his voice still sent chills down the back of his neck.
Spencer opened his mouth and spoke first in a dry, deep voice, "Whats the projected casualty number?" Hard question to ask, but he wanted to be the one to be told the bad news. By the way the members were treated with the food and drink, it was something of a last meal for a few of them.
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Post by #+h3 M!$+3r P@r@d0x on Apr 6, 2010 18:38:02 GMT -5
Mr. Marlboro made a mental note to later commend the man known as Spencer Kilroy. His mind trekked only for a moment before catching what seemed to be a glare from the man. Something about Spencer seemed to the point… demanding even. That was one of the few perks that Mr. Marlboro had enjoyed in situations such as these. They ask serious questions… he gives bad news. But, the news of the truth is even worse than the news of a lie. He would rather be as honest as humanly possible from the start, rather than ruin the entire thing.
“ The casualties should be low in terms of skill versus ignorance. These Terrorists pose more of a nuisance with a new toy rather than a fully operational organization capable of actually laying out a well organized plan. My intelligence services show that this could prove more of a bluff than anything, but I am told not to take chances in the matter. We have tried our best to propose a hypothesis of the situation that reveals that the team should have a 93.8 percent success rate without casualties in the process… Or at least I would hope so. Because, I will be escorted along with the unit to receive information that was stolen from one of our offices in the States regarding a Coding System used for Colonial Gate Cores by our Trading Company. With this Code device in their hands… They will have full access to any point in any Colony that affiliates with Tricell. As enthusiastic as I am about being chosen to go… I can handle myself with a sidearm but by no means am I used to firefights…”
Mr. Marlboro cracks his neck slightly, then smiles.
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Post by Lunapocalypse on Apr 6, 2010 22:33:00 GMT -5
Tapping of heels snapped down the corridor leading to the conference room, so much power placed in to each foot that it sounded as if it would threaten the stability of the floor. Pandora had almost barged through the doors, reminiscent of many agents in many situations when they were late, but it clicked that meetings were quiet. She had to be quiet. So from traveling 25kp/h down to zero, Pan gently nudged the door and stepped in to the already ongoing conference; letting the door close itself and moving on a one track mind to her seat, "Sorry I'm late," she notioned without making any eye contact. The decision to either say nothing or apologize both stood there for her, and she'd gone with the latter as it seemed most reasonable. Pandora, however, had no idea who the representative at the farthest end of the table was
"Don't worry about it Brooklyn, just catch up with what's on your display..." Kait was cool with the sudden interruption; he never wanted to appear as a staff sergeant, and the relaxed personality calmed everyone down even after a major blunder. Marlboro on the other hand, that was a different story for all Kait knew of; and in reality this interruption sat as a major blunder. Lann decided to get things moving again, thankfully the interruption had occurred at a slight lull in Marlboro's speech giving leeway to flow in the meeting, "Well... it sounds like we may have an impending epidemic on our hands, Mr. Marlboro. By all means we had a deal before we opened this link," Kait sweetened the sentence, "I'll pass it for full priority,"
Pandora dropped her jacket over her seat and swiveled it out to sit down, she didn't need to be told twice to pull her act together. Immediately after taking her seat and straightening her back she became a statue, the only movement coming from the sway of her hair as her eyes darted across the screen taking in all of the meeting past and any more additional information including the representative at the head and the company that they worked for. She was about to read the newly uploaded information when a familiar voice resonated in the room.
"Whats the projected casualty number?"
This made Pandora look up. She was surprised to see Spencer standing in the shadows at the back of the room; she'd been aware a person was standing there upon entering but had no idea it was the Captain in question. The man was from the BSAA unit anyway; granted he was higher rank, why was he here? Pandora had only considered the thought for half a second before losing interest, and the question from the Captain registered no importance at all. As far as Pandora was concerned statistics in the death toll didn't include her. Eyes back to the LCD on the table, she picked up on some slightly off information; Pandora looked up to Lann, "Excuse me, General. This isn't my AO..." the volume of her voice slightly greater than preferred in such a soundless room, "...Or my parametres,"
Mostly the statement got on Kaits nerves over the volume; if blunder No.1 hadn't done it then #2 would serve. He wished the girl would just follow instructions, but things settled in differently with her joining STARS, "Clearly." he started, "You've been withdrawn for obvious reasons though...we need you back out in the field so you're in this assignment for now. With the required operatives I'm willing to put everyone on this; a request from one of our benefactors is on the house in my opinion" Lann nodded to allow Marlboro to continue speaking before throwing together a small message and sending it to Pandora's terminal <Plus nobody is supposed to know of your AO. Not even Marlboro>
Slight sulking was hidden when Pan rested her head on her fist and tapped the backspace key to delete the sent message. She had liked the assignment she had been handed; and the fact that other operatives were being killed off by a third party didn't seem legitimate enough to put her duty short. The Justicar waited for a lull in the conversation before speaking up, "What is our Area of Operation?" she asked, noticing a distinct lack of information regarding several key points of the Intel in front of her, "And what is our method of insertion?" she followed with her question, capping it quickly, "Also. What intelligence do you have on the revolutionaries?" use big words; appear smart, "Time of Establishment. Grade of equipment. Control over area," use broken sentences to get point across.
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Post by #+h3 M!$+3r P@r@d0x on Apr 6, 2010 23:37:08 GMT -5
Mr. Hammond Marlboro seemed pleased to have such a overly… eager female speaking to him in such a commanding fashion. Be it that the people may have believed him to be stooping down to a certain level to speak with them that was not the case. The fact of the matter was that some intel was better left for all to hear from his own words. And modern technological advances were capable of almost anything. Especially the fact that the hologram was just a mere voice activated sequencer that followed Hammonds exact controlled movements and the purple runes allowed the programming to follow the vocal frequencies of those that would respond to him… allowing the Image to react and catch glances with mere gestures all by programming. The fact of the matter was that the entire team was busy speaking with Marlboro while he was using a vocally controlled Hologram Clone to close in on the meeting itself. A personal appearance rather than some lame excuse for being too important to show up. Fact of the matter was that he loved his toys.
With the voice sequencer still engaged he allowed the Image of himself to bow slightly as it spoke, “ Ladies and Gentlemen I regret to inform you that this communication cannot take place over such a insecure broadcast.”
He was sure that they would most likely not understand the true meaning of that statement as the Hologram ended and the runes faded. The thought of the STARS agents confusion of the session being cut short amused him more than anything as he passed through security posing as one of his own caterers. From the storage area he moved up the hall carrying a dish with photographs and files resting gently inside it. Due to the fact that his men were welcome to the B.S.A.A. headquarters earlier that day it did not raise any suspicion to any of the on duty guards. The hallways leading to the STARS meeting room were quite easy to find as he paced with a pit pat type walk. A spring was most certainly in his step as he was closing in on the sliding glass doors.
As soon as he had entered the room most of the agents had already figured out who he was. But the question was most likely how he had gotten there. Without even a single pause in his step he carried the platter to the table and sat it in the middle rung. Then he proceeded to bow gracefully as he removed his catering cap and hung it on the presumed coat rack. His mind was then focused on explanation as he was sure he would be questioned. This was a matter of secrecy to him… better in person than on some loose line.
“ Your first question would most likely be that of the Area of Operations? Recent undeniable evidence has voraciously pointed to a small quaint pass in Russia. The details of that area will be explained further when in route. The second manner… insertion will be by a Depot Tram used by our Trading Company to move weapons to the outlining survival colonies, the rail system itself is still intact but as of now it is believe to pass right through our area of operations. “
He paused for a second, realizing they may still be shocked at his appearance… but continued.
“ Our indisputable intelligence on the targets show that they are poorly trained but a significant threat if provoked. The area that they have secured USE to be a Chemical Storage Facility for Biological Weaponry… such as Dirty Bombs… Chemical Warheads… That sort of thing. It is said that they have only been raiding encampments as of late until they came under control of a ’hidden’ project that we are not complete sure what it is. A inside agent working with our Weapons division last transmission was over one week ago and the demands have been made by one person ever since. We are only to secure the substance and eliminate the threats. Our intel shows that they are five strong…”
Pausing he looked around the room… he tried his best to inform them of the coming of the mission but the truth was that he was not absolutely sure how to word it 100%. The people that were the supposed ‘Terrorists’ were the same group that he had eliminated just two weeks prior to contact B.S.A.A. They had brought the experimental creatures in for R n D to tamper with… but perhaps that was just a hoax. No one in R n D had even touched the specimens yet so he would have to try his best to get B.S.A.A. out there to eliminate those that carry the rest of it and at the same time capture the corrected tissue in it’s natural habitat. Messy job. But, with this unknown substance as well as the {Serpents Kiss} in these ignorant fools possession… more than just a few colonies could be at stake. Push came to shove… B.S.A.A. could contain the specimen for all he cared… He just needed those targets neutralized. He refused to meet the demands of self appointed saviors of mankind. They were Zealots… crucify themselves for the greater good… That sort of thing only would harm people in the end… and all signs would point back to his acquiring a sample.
Mr. Marlboro moved to the mid center of the back wall then stopped. He realized that his answers were a bit… shaded… so he wanted someone to ask more in-depth questions and hope that he could provide semi-right answers. He did not wish any harm to these people for they were far more valuable to him alive than dead. They were trained to deal with B.O.W.S. and take down armed vigilantes as well. The point was that even if the area was a complete infestation… he was sure that there would be enough information there to explain what had happened and why his agents had been neutralized. There was something more behind this entire ordeal than what his superiors were letting on… and he began to believe that maybe the upper hand was not his.
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Post by .Merios on Apr 7, 2010 0:21:19 GMT -5
Spencer shifted his position, he was uncomfortable with all the cloak and dagger. If these terrorists were so bad and had so much technology, they would be guarded and more secretive. There's no way TriCell could get this kind of information so late in the game and conveniently release it a week prior to the terrorist's D-Day. Something about this seemed odd, but he knew that he shouldn't question a superior officer's motives, but instead he asked a followup question.
"You said the {Serpent's Kiss} used to be some sort of genetic enhancement, right? If a terrorist organization had these kinds of resources, wouldn't they use any means necessary to stop us from taking them out?"
Spencer muttered something to himself- he had the propensity to carry on unecessarily from time to time, so he had to make sure to keep himself in check when asking questions.
"In other words, what's the probability we're walking into an ambush? Your source stopped contacting you over a week ago- I'm assuming the source is one person, and you mentioned the threats are also coming from one person. Is it possible this is the same person?"
Spencer pushed away from the wall and began pacing.
"Seeing as the previous statement could be true, you- or, rather we, must take into account the intel may or may not be falsified."
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Post by Lunapocalypse on Apr 7, 2010 5:50:30 GMT -5
Sound picked up once the stunt on Hammonds behalf followed through; conversation, some sounds of disapproval in terms of the limited time particular agents and employees had. Once the image had dropped off it was an excuse for Pandora to turn her attention elsewhere, once again engrossed in the information displayed on her screen. Half a minute later, catering came through the entrance. Pandora watched briefly, 'Similar height; give or take three centimetres, likely sole depth. Even balance and weight constitutes contents of platter isn't heavy...' before she could finish her summary though the caterer withdrew his hat and bowed the same as from the end of the display, more or less setting her assumption that they were the same person indefinitely. Suddenly, Pandora didn't like the guy. Several other people in the room clapped.
Little afterthought spared, Pandora dived straight for the info platter. Marlboro could take as long as he liked explaining the scenario, Pan could determine everything she wanted straight from whatever was on the menu. Straight up, aerial photographs; they were angular rather than top down but still had a clear cell to place over the top and display the regions topography. She quickly flicked to another image, much closer up and personal; it showed the rail depot, the name of it in Russian. Pan went back to the aerial photograph, pressed it image side down against her screen and tapped a panel button. She stripped it away with a mirrored replica now on the screen, flipping it over. The image magnified once over by half its size; Pan bobbed her head slightly, 'Trees along pass are a particular Spruce...' she pressed her lips tight, 'Unable to identify; similarities between different pines in family. AO could be anywhere.' Pan flicked through the other photo's; a couple more aerials of the same region, some more ground level of encampments and what Pandora assumed were the slightly faded out research centres. 'Same specie of tree evident in each picture.' Skipping back to the tram depot, Pan scanned the image in running a trace on manufacturers on one of the trams in the image; it dated all the way back to 1999. She piled up info finding out the approximate height, applying it to the height of the depot and then pulling that height back to the aerial view and using the topography chart to measure up the trees. 'Height is between 40 to 55 metres; distinct height above the Siberian Spruce. Species identified is Norway Spruce, rare to central Europe and parts of Russia...' Pan did a range check, 'Eastern limit ranges approximately Mid-Southern Russia,' she opened a world map and zoomed in on the specific area, 'Likely 250 miles from Russian capitol of Novosibirsk...' Pandora sighed, 'Wet weather this time of year; high humidity, low visibility, downpour, constant overcast.' Nowhere on the pictures could she determine the camps in the areas, meant the survivors there knew how to hide. The region in particular would have be shielded well from the outbreak, but it wasn't impossible for carriers from Novosibirsk to wander all that way out.
"Our Intel shows that they are five strong…”
Pandora looked up with a bewildered face after Hammond had finished up on his sentence. Pan didn't catch onto this though making little sense of it, "'Five strong' what?" she asked simplistically. Kait spoke up on Spencer's query though before Marlboro had a chance to answer, considering the importance of the topic the Captain had brought up.
Fast tracking was on Lann's behalf, he hadn't been taking every consideration to mind; turning his head enough only to hear Spencer behind him better, he nodded in concurrence, "Captain Spencer has a point, Mr. Marlboro. The shelf life for intelligence is 72 hours maximum, otherwise it's stale. Nearly a hundred hours for conditions to change," Kait relaxed back in his seat, "You don't have anyone in the area to confirm anything for us?" a gentle wave of his right hand through the air, "Otherwise we'd have to do our own report on the area, that could cut our active time down considerably,"
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Post by #+h3 M!$+3r P@r@d0x on Apr 8, 2010 21:46:07 GMT -5
Mr. Marlboro gave a nearly applauding clap of his hands to Spencer not as to be completely disrespectful to the man for stating such obvious statements. The fact was that he knew that they were walking into a abrupt ambush from the second they entered the area. These people were trained to protect the project and {Serpents Kiss} to death… Mr. Marlboro would want the team to be as prepared for anything as they could. So he would make damn sure that whoever was sent was of the best Caliber and ready for all out war. For God’s sake he was having to tag along for the sake of information not being leaked to the public for Tricells actions with these betrayers actions. B.S.A.A. and S.T.A.R.S. were the only people that he could think of not directly contracted in illegal activity that this event would be able to become public… So future problems would only point to this one event…
“ I believe the information fed to me through my intelligence agency is complete rubbish to be honest. My Supervisors have instructed me to allow B.S.A.A. to have full access to all aspects of this dilemma and take any course you deem necessary. They also believe that this Revolutionary act could be from someone with a fueled hatred to my Company. I have reasons to believe that this particular agent could have much more access than the briefing files are letting on. I am a very simplistic individual… but I so not wish for anyone to be ill prepared.”
He cleared his posture slightly then carried on.
“ In these times from my understand Tricell has employed Mercenaries to carry on mission to support cargo holds of food, ores, weapons, and ammunitions. It is most wise to incorporate the fact that there may be people well armed. It just seems very unorthodox for only five people to pose such a threat with such limited use in such a complex strand of chemical. A straight forward approach may prove to be suicide “IF” the numbers are now exceedingly more. But… by no means is this my field of business. I was the only one that my Employers could trust to oversee this… I would be more than happy to try and troubleshoot details with one that can work off limited information.”
He then had a thought. A random little light shined brightly in the back of his mind, dim at first then growing exceedingly brighter. There WAS someone that they could acquire the information… numbers… and location almost to a fault. Jache Sharne was well informed but not too informed. If he could somehow convince them to send a small group of agents to arrest and interogate him… he could get up to date information on the leader of the ’Revolutionaries” Howard Guinness. More or less the target and scapegoat for this masquerade. Mr. Marlboro knew that Sharne would give them detailed information on the project at hand… without releasing the information as to why. Then with him out in the open… some civilian would be bound to kill him with no problems… must suck to be so hated amongst the population.
“ Jache Sharne… Perhaps the fugitive would know something about our ’Revolutionary Force’. He has been trying to work deals with a local syndicate to smuggle illegal genetic information in return for weapons grade Mutations. New laws have directly been enforced that Bio-Organic Weapons distributors are to be incarcerated and judged for crimes against humanity. The science behind it is fine… but to sell and trade Bio-Organic Weapons is clearly in violation of five set tenants World-Wide. This man may be the key to our targets and the {Serpents Kiss}.”
Mr. Marlboro new much of Jache Sharne and he knew that the well informed amongst this group of Agents knew the name as well. He was thirty six years old of French descent and looked very much like the criminal type in his mug shots. Dark black hair reduced to stubble littered his lopsided head. One eye was nearly permantly closed shut due to injury while the other was a bluish green. He stood at 5 foot 8 inches tall and weighed 136 pounds… he frame was frail yet slightly muscular. His past crimes were anything from murder to terrorism with use of the ’T-Virus’… Many shambles of governmental forces had been searching for the man for the past four years only to find chaos in return. The more they would search the more damage would be done. But here Mr. Marlboro had the information…
“ I have the location of this man. Gained from photo-surveillances from a camp in Mexico. These photos were captured yesterday… and past photo‘s show that he has been in the same area as well. The only standing issue with receiving information from this man would be the act that gang warfare is strong in the area… and the second one of his competition would suspect he has weakened… the will kill him… by any means at their disposal.”
The photo showed the previously stated man with many armed thugs around him as if he was a ring leader to a group of childish gang members. The weapons grade of the supposed guardians were only Sub Machine Pistol s of some sort. To a hardened Agent the intelligence proved a piece of cake for such a huge reward of sacking a sadistic bastard. Due to the current laws of skirmish each one of them could be neutralized without penalty… Although, Mr. Marlboro was sure that the B.S.A.A. would try their best to capture the thugs alive if possible. He also knew that they would retaliate with weapons violence the second a introduction would begin. He could only hope that Jache would speak on {Serpents Kiss} before one of his rivals took his life. The shelf life of Jache being in the open would be no less than two hours.
Mr. Marlboro knew that this was a change of pace but with a careful approach they could receive the information he needed then get to his Target on B.S.A.A. s own terms. Perhaps even well enough to where the group would consider everyone a possible threat. He would await replies.
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Post by .Merios on Apr 10, 2010 12:31:44 GMT -5
(Who's Martin Sharne? Is he Jache Sharne?)
Spencer took one more pace back and forth as he listened, then moved to the wall and leaning back against it again. His eyes were glued to the screen as he soaked in the information. He looked at the surveillance photograph of the man in Mexico, surrounded by armed men. He assumed it was his crew; and since gang violence is rampant in that area, he would suspect nothing less.
"This.. Sharne. What you're saying is, you want us to extract him from a hostile gang territory during a possible turf war minimize casualties and bring back any wounded?"
Spencer scoffed a bit. He was above this type of work, but it had to be done for the information that needed to be acquired. He moved to the table and leaned in, pressing his palms onto the table top, his fingers slightly curled inward.
"Well, lets say we take him. How long do you think it'll take for him to break? We have one week, if the demands from the terrorists are even legitimate."
He stopped himself from making a Frenchman crack, but he just shook his head.
"What's the time frame for this op? We need to get a window available for the team on standby that will be ready to insert into our original AO."
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Post by Lunapocalypse on Apr 11, 2010 10:28:28 GMT -5
"7 hours maximum," this was a direct response to Spencer's question on the breakability of Sharne. Pandora didn't have any experience in information extraction; torture to be more precise; her theory sat centre of the scale though with the concept of a mix of physical and contemporary torture. If a subject didn't snap by then, they'd likely be more inclined to prefer death; although typically that sort of training would be reserved for the kind of individual that held information which would crumble the society of the world. Moreover it didn't seem apparent torture resistance would be included to many organisations asides from the B.S.A.A. now days; and Pandora didn't observe Sharne as the type to carry a cyanide capsule in his mouth. Self centred. All they had to do was hand him to Pandora though.
"Query," Pandora opened, "'Weapons Grade Mutations'. Does this concern a potential biohazard in Mexico?" she was curious about fragile material being handled in the middle of a war, it put Mexico pretty high on the list for threats as well; regardless pockets of infected land were strewn about the country plus Mexico City itself, "It would prove to be a catalyst if handled incorrectly," Pandora looked between Marlboro and the still shot of the man on the projection, "Is there a probability what he is dealing with is the same as what is in Russia? The smuggle may be Serpent's Kiss."
Slight concern set in at the food potentially going to waste on the table; Lann snatched a stick of carrot and proceded to chew on it while listening to Marlboro and each B.S.A.A. member. He found it intruiging how what originally began as a moderately straight forwards assignment of terrorist neutralization catalyzed into something much more complex. Pouting for a cigar, "Now that this assignment has somehow stemmed to two different continents-" he became aware that it was going to be a very big and long operation, "-it seems in the given time span we'll need to definitely keep units on standby in Russia. Considering how important the information this Sharne bloke holds is we'll need the best sent in to pull him out alive... It pains me to hold this out there but that territory is specifically Third World, any collateral is vindicated so Jache Sharne remains among the living,"
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Post by #+h3 M!$+3r P@r@d0x on Apr 11, 2010 19:46:46 GMT -5
For a second it would seem that the woman’s voice perked a slightly rousing interest in the current conversation. It was quite realistic to think that Sharne could indeed be in possession of {Serpent’s Kiss} without any other questions being asked. That would mean that he may have found a way to inject the substance into {B.O.W.S} to increase overall performance… Hunters with improved Strength, Stamina, and Overall Speed was not something that Mr. Marlboro wanted to be available to the General Population… Then there ’WAS’ the whole war thing going on between rival buyers and sellers with little room for a actual practical thought to cross either sides mind for a nana-second. ’IF’ Jache was in possession of {B.O.W.S.} at his current location could it indeed pose a threat on his life at this very moment? These and other thoughts were most likely what seemed to echo throughout the heads of those that would be clever enough to think of the outcomes.
“ I would seriously doubt that Sharne would be in direct control of {Serpent’s Kiss} at this time. The odds to his members actually activating a genetic amplifier of that caliber with actual successful results are one in one hundred. I would assume Sharne would activate primary {B.O.W.} units in his arsenal only if he has the activation codes for them at his disposal. To activate them he would have to willingly disable complete life support systems…”
He was reading from a memo that was posted on the small samples of papers and files. Noting that STARS unit was personally trained for such engagements and a forewarning was indeed needed. Taking out that shipment completely would be a plus. The fact that Sharne has been allowed to conduct his cut throat business out of the ever watching eye of Tricell was ungrateful and most certainly uncalled for. Sharne had the same information that Mr. Marlboro had already had in his possession. This was practically a means for BSAA to understand the Global Threat of out of market trading. Perhaps even eliminate the traitor that tried to hide for so long without even so much as a message back to his sponsors. It was official now… all would die to get to Sharne. How lovely it will be to see the little Frenchman rat backed into a corner. Mr. Marlboro still did not like the fact that he had to moderate this little fiasco…
“ The information I had supplied is feasible and well processed. Once Sharne is in custody we may further make our way through this worm-hole to the true threat.” Mr. Marlboro sighed heavily as he let out a mild stretch, “ Now if I may be excused I would love nothing more then to prepare for Mexico. If anyone needs me I will be nearby.”
Mr. Marlboro straightens his posture awaiting closing statements.
{{ When this Mission Begins I will do back-dropping of landscape… Formal and informal npcs in area. Mr. Marlboro is not really a combatant character in any means. BSAA/STARS may choose whether to keep Marlboro with the drop team in Mexico or bring Sharne in to him back at their headquarters for interrogation.}}
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Post by .Merios on Apr 13, 2010 17:32:28 GMT -5
Spencer nodded and headed towards the door, not even looking twice at the bountiful feast on the table. He put his hand on the glass and stopped in place. He turned around and looked to the room's occupants.
"If you're coming, you'll get a call within the hour. Keep your lines open."
Spencer looked to Lann and nodded and then turned around and pressed on the door, swinging it open. He walked through the entrance and stepped out into the lobby. He breathed deep and then sighed.
Mexico...[/size]
He shook his head and then continued forward, heading to the Armory. He had a certain knack for checking on the weapons and gear before any mission. He's seen too many operations go to hell because a gun jammed at the wrong time.
[Spencer has Left the S.T.A.R.S. Meeting Room]
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