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Post by Mikey on Nov 5, 2011 4:23:39 GMT -5
“I’m not a greedy man, but I do expect a fair salary for my impressive skill set.” He said, tooting his own horn. He could do anything that needed to be done. And he could do it well.
He adjusted in his seat a moment, thinking about the question for a moment.
“At least one hundred thousand per assignment. A million a year, if your looking for a more permanent arrangement.” He said.
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Post by NotAvailable on Nov 6, 2011 0:46:15 GMT -5
Crowley raised an eyebrow, her scraggly hair casting a shadow over her eyes. The dim lighting from the lanterns inside had a warm, orange glow illuminating only the small, front portion of the cathedral's altar and the first three rows where the two mercs were seated. The rest of the place, the far corners were clouded with darkness.
"I can do that but I do hope you understand that once you sign my contract, you're not Tricell property, you're my property," she told him, crossing one leg over the other. "Until I'm 'outbidded' but I highly doubt that will happen."
She wasn't being cocky in the least. She was wealthy and wasn't afraid of spending a little cash if it meant getting her grasps on a merc as talented as Scott Joseph.
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Post by Mikey on Nov 6, 2011 4:35:14 GMT -5
"Well then. You've just bought yourself the best mercenary money can buy." Scott said matter-o-factly. He sat up and uncrossed his arms, his left hand holding a USP 45. He had come prepared, it seemed. If she had tried anything, he would have sent several rounds through the bench into her chest cavity.
"Forgive me, but it wouldn't be the first time I've been ambushed under the guise of an employment opportunity." He said, standing up and grabbing his bag.
"What's the assignment?" He asked her.
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Post by NotAvailable on Nov 6, 2011 22:26:32 GMT -5
A miniscule, bright red dot traced up from his heart to between his eyes before flickering off. One of her mercs had emerged from the farthest corner with her rifle before toting it over her shoulder and smirking at him. "It appears you and Mr. Crowley have something in common," Russo told Scott, walking down the aisle.
Crowley placed a steady hand up to Bianca, silencing her before finally exchanging eye contact with Mr. Joseph.
"I have two mercs that are defecting. I want you to take one of them out," she told him before reaching over to a manilla folder beside her. She'd gotten up from her seat and approached him carefully, handing it over.
The label read, "Darryl Mitchells". Inside were photographs of him and his family, information about him, his abilities, what he provides to the group and addresses to where his family was currently located in Vegas but Darryl was hiding and was pegging his family safe.
"I know you're not a hitman but he's a traitor. I don't want you to touch the two little girls, just drop them somewhere in Vegas. The wife's strapped at all times, she'll shoot to kill. Grab her and he'll show his face. We can rendevous back here, Russo will supply you with her radio frequency."
Crowley nodded at the briefcase on the Altar. "I'm giving you half your pay for this mission, you'll recieve the other half when it's done. For now, me and my mercs have some other business to tend to at the Police Precinct."
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Post by Mikey on Nov 7, 2011 17:13:59 GMT -5
Scott let a small smirk pass his lips as he watched the laser disappear and the sniper step out of her hiding place. He was sure his armor would have stopped the round, but he wouldn’t let them on to that fact. Did they think if he had set up a shot in advance, he wouldn’t have been wearing body armor?
Scott took the folder and flipped through it as she explained the assignment, eyeing a picture of the man he was supposed to kill. Crowley had it figured out, as he figured she would have. He turned his gaze to where she pointed, seeing the case on the alter that hadn’t been apparent earlier.
He nodded when she said there was other business to take care of and walked toward Russo. He lifted his left sleeve and showed what looked like a miniature computer on his left forearm.
“What’s the frequency?” He asked as he flipped the screen up.
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Post by NotAvailable on Nov 7, 2011 17:27:13 GMT -5
Bianca had tapped at his chest with her fingers, smirking. "Body armor, nice," she told him before grimacing at Crowley's aggrivated stare. "147.82 is Mr.Crowley. 112.32 is mine," she told him.
Crowley cleared her throat a bit. "On your way back, I want you to pick up another merc of mine, Scott Cole. He should be waiting for you in the Casino floor of the Luxor. He'll provide back-up against security if you need it, which I'm sure you won't."
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Post by Mikey on Nov 7, 2011 19:18:58 GMT -5
Scott typed a few keys on his wrist board, entering the frequencies as the young woman in front of him read them off. He tapped a call button, sending a ping to each radio. When they both responded, he flipped the wrist mounted computer closed and looked back to the women in front of him.
“I prefer to work alone, but I will give your man a ride back.” He said as he started walking toward the briefcase. He opened it up and saw the money inside, a few small bundles of hundred dollar bills. He loaded the stack of cash into his back pack and walked back toward them.
“Will transportation be provided or will I have to make my own way there?” He asked. Either was fine, he had a few contacts that could get him there and back.
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Post by NotAvailable on Nov 8, 2011 1:33:35 GMT -5
Crowley scowled. "Our pilot was Darryl Mitchells. I'll be taking over the chopper though while he's gone. So I'm afraid you'll have to find your way there, Joseph," she explained before moving down the aisle to the Cathedral entrance. Russo followed suit before smirking and winking at him.
"You can contact me whenever you want, new guy. My frequency is always open," she told him. Crowley shook her head.
"Russo, please be professional."
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Post by Mikey on Nov 9, 2011 20:19:41 GMT -5
Scott smirked slightly when the women had their backs to him, waiting until they left before he opened his computer again and pulled up a list of contacts. He hit call when the name he was looking for came up, and his transmission was instantly picked up. He explained the situation and told the pilot of the helicopter that there was five grand in it if he could fly him to Las Vegas. The pilot agreed, and Scott told him he would be on the roof of the cathedral.
Heading up to the top of the cathedral, he waited for a while, chewing a pack of gum as he did. The helicopter came after less than an hours wait and Scott was on his way.
(Now in Vegas.)
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