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Post by Mikey on Nov 19, 2008 9:44:38 GMT -5
This is a hotel in central Israel that hasn't succumbed to the viral attack. It's being used to house UN personnel and currently random civilians can take refuge here.
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Post by Kan on Dec 25, 2011 12:39:36 GMT -5
The Hotel's bar area is a mass of activity, refugees moving rapidly through the crowd, looking for loved ones or trying to talk to UN peace keepers. Many of the people here look like they have been up for days on end, dark circles and worried looks on their faces, for good reason. Out side the hotel's walls and secured perimeter it was almost maddening. A few foreigners can be seen in the crowd, anything from tourists stuck in the city when the terrorist attack took place to a multitude of reporters interviewing anyone they could understand and taking photos of the scene. The UN peace keepers are doing their best to put up a good show, making a set patrol route in the hotel, a few BSAA personnel could be found screening and helping new arrivals.
Behind the bar the bartenders were still at work, fixing drinks and taking orders, and in the current state of things they were busy. The bar space in crammed tight, no empty standing or sitting place could be found and any gap made was quickly filled. The tightly filled space of the bar area served only to make the natural heat of Isreal worse, a hot sticky feeling in the air.
In one of the corners a small table for four is occupied by what looks to be a photojournalist, an almost bored look on his face as he drinks from his glass of water. There is a pooling of sweat on the neck of his dirty white undershirt, a grey chest pocketed travel shirt worn over it unbuttoned and hanging loosely over his hips. He sets down his glass and fiddles with the camera hanging off his neck, a general all purpose camera, nothing overtly fancy, but it did the job. He wipes his hands on his tan pants, which have multiple pockets including two good sized cargo pockets, which look be be partially filled. He takes a quick shot of the bar, checking the camera's function before scratching at his rough beard. His black Oakley sunglasses are resting on his short cut black hair, a waiting look in his eyes.
To a casual observer this man simply seemed to be waiting on his fellow press members, however looks can be deceiving.
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Post by Scorpio on Dec 25, 2011 17:56:35 GMT -5
James Turner entered the bar making sure to avoid the other BSAA members in case one of them was dumb enough to call out his name. He was, as usual for his business meetings, dressed in an expensive tailored suit which was currently covering the sweat soaking through his dress shirt. He dabbed at his forehead with a cloth as he made his way to the bar to order a drink.
"Ice water and a tequila and lime, and there will be extra in it for you if they come in a glass that neither taints my drink with gunk, hosts a colony of protozoa or doubles as a urinal for whatever the usual costumer base is when you aren't overcharging foreigners." He waved a few fifties whilst smiling, expecting the staff not to speak English, rather that the money would make his point for him. "Bring it to that table over there."
He pulled out a chair opposite the man he was told to meet, giving it a quick clean with another cloth before sitting down. He took a discreet look around for any trouble makers, in his pocket in easy reach he carried his Taurus judge revolver, loaded with 5 shotshell rounds and with a thumb opened safety lock on the trigger to prevent it going off in his pocket.
"The down payment will barely cover my dry cleaning for being here in this sweatlodge. So intrigue me or we're done."
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Post by Kan on Dec 26, 2011 5:33:59 GMT -5
The man was drinking from his glass of water again as the well dressed and rather aggravated looking man enters the bar. He shook his head at the way he was dressed, certainly not for a desert climate, and a small grin of humor as he flashed his bills and ordered a drink.
As the well dressed agent sat down the bartender looked at him with a disdainful eye, he understood English well enough, he put the money into the register and went to work making the drink. He grabbed a tequila bottle from under the counter, watered down, and poured the glass.
As the agent sits down at the table the photojournalist looks at him with slight amusement and his eye cocked up. "I take it your Turner then" he says to the agent, "Its your own fault the advance is going to go to your dry cleaning you know, suits aren't the best things to be wearing over here" he chuckles as he takes another drink from his glass, finishing it up.
He raises his hand up and looks over to the bar, making a motion with his hand. "Details come soon enough, the others should be here soon, and I'd much rather not explain more than once." as he says this a waiter brings up three glasses. "So enjoy the atmosphere and take a load off, you look like you could use the relaxation" he says while the waiter sets another glass of water in front of him and the order placed by the agent in front of him.
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Post by Caliber on Dec 27, 2011 5:23:30 GMT -5
Phoenix remained sitting atop a wooden stool at the far end of the bar counter, hidden amongst the dense crowd of civilians that flooded the entirety of the building. She had been scoping out the area for some time now, watching... and waiting. She had planted herself in the building roughly fifteen minutes before the first man had arrived-- presumably the one who had contacted her, and whoever else was going to be joining them on the task that they were planning to carry out. The man remained alone at a table on the far side of the room, maintaining a deceptive appearance of complete normalcy in his civilian attire. He wore a camera around his neck-- nothing too flashy, although it didn't look cheap. Phoenix was skeptical of whether it was simply a piece of the man's disguise, or if it had a practical purpose, as well. Clever.
The man sipped on a glass of clear liquid in an oh-so completely innocent matter. He raised his camera a single time, fiddled with it for a moment, then took a shot of the room. The whole thing looked incredibly... innocent, for lack of a more appropriate term, and it gave an increasingly believable air of verisimilitude to his disguise. It looked as though he was going for some sort of tourist act... or a reporter, or some kind of photo-journalist. Phoenix's analytical ritual was interrupted when a woman behind the bar offered to refill her glass of water.
"No, thankyou," Phoenix muttered calmly, emerging from her meditative state.
Phoenix was instantly reminded of how warm the room was, as she snapped back into reality. She was wearing her "sweeper" skullsuit beneath a fashionable, sand-colored civilian trench coat, which helped to create a believable disguise, alongside a matching fedora and a pair of aviator shades. Though she was hesitant to do so at first, Phoenix was immediately relieved that she had left her lightweight kevlar vest behind, as the addition of extra layer to her already too thick outfit-- despite the light-reflective properties of the color of her overgarment-- probably would have resulted in death by heatstroke, before any other threat could come of her mission. What a shame that would have been.
Phoenix turned her head toward the front entrance to find her eyes drawn to a man entering the bar, who was dressed in a fancy suit. He maneuvered through the crowd carefully and casually, seemingly agenda-less, though he stuck out from the crowd quite well. He slowly made his way back to the table where the man who called himself "Fad" continued to sip on his glass of what Phoenix assumed to be water. The man in the suit took a brief detour, and approached the bar, less than three or four feet from Phoenix. She listened as the man ordered a drink, antagonizing the bar tender in the process. He flashed a few paper bills around, paid for his drink, then continued making his way toward Fad-- or at least whom Phoenix assumed to be Fad, her contact. The suited man pulled up a chair on the opposite side of the table as Fad, then sat down.
The two men exchanged a few words before a waiter brought another glass to the table. Phoenix took the opportunity to arise from her seat, then made her way through the crowd. She casually approached the table, hands in her coat pockets, and pulled up a chair. She reached a hand out of her pocket and toward her face, lifting her glasses off their resting place on the bridge of her noise, revealing her eyes. She then removed her fedora with the opposite hand, revealing her vivid blonde hair, tied into a high ponytail. She then set the fedora on the table upside-down, folded her aviators, and set them inside. She looked up at the men on either side of her, studying their faces. She had never revealed any sort of personal information to either of them, and they were likely surprised to find that she was female.
"Fad, she said to the man on her right, devoid of emotion, keeping her hands in her lap.
It was not a question. She was now sure of the man's identity.
"So," she began again, "How many are we waiting on?"
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Post by Mikey on Dec 27, 2011 18:07:16 GMT -5
Oscar couldn’t say that the heat effected him too much. He’d grown up in Texas, fixing fence and tending the cattle on the ranch in the middle of the summer. Then, his tour in the Middle East, some years ago. He’d lived, worked, and fought in hundred and twenty degree weather before. So now, the rather warm temperature of a hundred and twelve degrees wasn’t a huge problem.
He entered the bar of the hotel, taking a look around and pulling his hat off of his head. He scratched his head lightly and took a look around. As he stood in the doorway, he watched a person in a tan coat start walking over toward another table. Seated at said table were a pair of men. One in casual dress with a camera, another in an expensive suit. Personally, Oscar had gone with a pair of grey cargo pants that hung past a set of black boots. His shirt hung past his waistband, hiding the revolvers and the knife on his belt.
He started to walk toward the bar, taking a roundabout route that would take him close to the table. He heard a voice say something, one he assumed that came from the coated figure.
“Fad.” It asked. Ya, he was in the right place. He continued to walk to the bar, and stood there for a moment. The bartender didn’t have a chance to finish up what he was doing before Oscar walked off, assumingly because the service wasn’t quick enough. He wasn’t even thirsty, but he wanted to stay low key as long as he could.
He pulled the chair out of the table, spun it around and sat on it backward. If it was a trap of some kind, he wanted to be able to get out quick. Tip the table over, vault out of the chair and get the hell out of dodge. That was assuming it was a trap, anyway. He didn’t think of himself as that important, or with that many enemies, to have such an elaborate ploy played against him. Not in a neutral area with UN and BSAA officials all over the place. But, he liked to be prepared.
“I take it I’m one of them.” He said, his voice a mix of a Mexican and Texan accent. “El Cucuy.” He said while motioning to himself. He wasn’t going to give out his real name to anyone just yet.
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Post by Kan on Dec 29, 2011 8:25:57 GMT -5
At the arrival of the jacketed woman Fad grins "Thats me" he says when she says his handle. Before he had the chance to comment on her question the other newcomer graced the group with is presence, flipping the chair around before sitting in it. After he introduces himself Fad settles into his chair, "And the last one" he says answering Phoenix's question.
He takes a drink from his glass of water before starting his brief, "I guess y'all want to get the lowdown on what your being paid for so here it is.". "As said in my first message I, and now you, are being paid to infiltrate a Isreali Bioweapons Research facility, its our job to find and secure certain research files and related research before anyone else can and use them for terrorist acts".
"It should be a fairly standard job, however the Research facility has been dark since the outbreak started in the country, and we will have to do some traveling on foot to make it there, this is not sanctioned by the Isreali government, and they have been less that agreeable on my employer's request to secure whatever they have there. The files should be in the office areas of the facility and the samples will need to be found on site. I'm not expecting much trouble, however it would be prudent to stay on our toes, I haven't been able to gather anything concrete information on the research being conducted there other than the T-Virus, in the least, was involved"
He cracks his neck as he finishes, "Any questions so far?".
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Post by Scorpio on Dec 30, 2011 18:57:13 GMT -5
"El Cucuy?" James laughed for a second before taking a long sip of his tequila. "I'm sorry, but your stories make you much more....intimidating. Sorry, I jest, but these nicknames I hear these days."
He turned in his chair to the woman who had also joined the group.
"And you would be Miss Galloway of Delta. Excuse me, ex CIA, old habit for me to do research on who I'm working with. Tell me, does the fedora and coat come with a false moustache to make you stand out even more? Again, I'm sorry for my rudness, James Turner, of the Maine Turners."
He listened to the briefing, expecting he might need to leave some of the bridge unburned if he was going to use it later. The team was solid though and the job did sound interesting, it had been a good while since he'd operated in the middle east. All the sand occasionally hid good treasures. At the end he raised his hand idly.
"Are we expecting any third parties? Or any known elements in the area?" He flipped through a notebook on the criminal groups he'd infiltrated some years back in the area. "My usual suspects are a bit too.....I'll say it straight, they can barely handle fetching a stick much less viral research.
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Post by Caliber on Dec 31, 2011 15:38:48 GMT -5
Phoenix nodded to Fad after he confirmed his identity. He then answered her previous question about how many more people would be joining them, as another man made his way through the bar and pulled up a chair. Once everyone was settled in, the Mexican man introduced himself as 'El Cucuy'-- the Mexican boogeyman. Phoenix grinned as she exchanged a quick glance with him.
The man in the suit mocked the Mexican man, then proceeded to mock Phoenix.
"Hmm," Phoenix hummed, unamused. "Can't say I'm impressed. I suppose using the nick-name and call-sign, that I've been using for the past sixteen years, as an alias wasn't exactly the best way to hide my identity-- not that it really matters any longer, considering the world ended fourteen years ago," she reamed the man. "Although, feel free to give yourself a gold star," she grinned. "Also, I think it's fairly safe to say that more eyes are drawn to that suit of yours, rather than my casual... beige, on black, on more beige... on more black."
After the bickering finished, Fad proceeded to brief the group, explaining their objective. He then asked for any questions, to which the suited man responded.
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Post by Mikey on Jan 1, 2012 2:31:05 GMT -5
“The intimidation is not when you see me. It is when you do not.” He said without breaking a straight face. Or eye contact. He listened in to Fad’s briefing, but he kept his eyes on James. He didn’t so much as blink for the near minute Fad took to explain the job.
Sounds simple enough. He wasn’t one for questioning the actual job. As much as he hated to admit it, work didn’t come along as often as it used to for an honest mercenary. The BSAA, Tricell, a bunch of the other more B list organizations had their own people on the payroll. No one wanted freelancers anymore. Sure, he could certainly retire with what he had to his name and live comfortably, but that wasn’t his bag. Neither was being attached to a company. He liked his freedom just like it was.
Fad asked for questions, and Cucuy could only think of one.
“Will there be any resistance from local government?” He asked. He wasn’t sure he would want in if they may have to take out any good guys to do what they needed.
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Post by Kan on Jan 1, 2012 17:45:59 GMT -5
"Alright kids, play nice" Fad says raising up his hands in a 'calm down' motion. He looks to Turner, ignoring the jack assery, "As of right now I do not know of any others looking for this intel, however with the viral activity the nomadic groups have been more active and I have heard of them holding up refugees from other cities and villages" he says to the well dressed agent before turning to address El Cucuy. "As said before this job is not sanctioned by the Israeli government, so it will be in our best interest to keep things as low profile as possible. Some of my sources have given me intel leading me to believe certain aspects of the Israeli government may have funded and pushed for the viral research we are being paid to retrieve.".
"As of now no one has made of move on the labs, or even plans to save for my employer, so we should only be facing possible mutations from T."
As he finishes he middles with his camera again, taking it off to show to the group. On the screen it showed a market place type area that was all but filled with the undead. He scrolls through the photos and all of them show a large concentration of the dead, most of the shots taken from vantage points and places that no living human should have been able to survive and escape from. "Thats the kind of concentration we are going to be dealing with in this city, and that first shot was the path I had laid out to make our way to the guy who is holding onto our equipment, it was and still is the lowest concentration of the zombies, however their number has increased in the past few days." He puts the camera back on his neck.
"That's the path we are going to have to take to get to our stuff and transport, and we can not afford to bring the entire market place on us, the only way I managed to get these photos was by avoiding the things as much as I could, and bailing when I did have to pop a shot off. My hope is that we can make it through the marketplace with as little encounters as possible"
"If you have anymore questions ask now, cause every minute we are sitting here chatting the concentration grows".
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Post by Scorpio on Jan 1, 2012 19:40:10 GMT -5
ooc: Btw, meant to say earlier, sorry about this character, I wrote him as a jerkass because I wanted to try new things. No offense meant to anyone
ic: "Hey, it's what I'm about. Power suit gets me respect from the locals but it also tells me who underestimates me." Turner rocked back on his chair looking smug as he finished his drink.
When Fad took the photographs out he leaned in to have a look. The undead were all cramping together and there didn't appear to be any sign of non human mutations at the moment. The gear he'd sent ahead included his AA12 shotgun and a liberal supply of explosives but those sort of went against the quietness that was being asked for in this job. At least the cramped crowd could work for them, the zombies would plug themselves in any gap they could and hold up the whole group rather than let each other through. Plus the market buildings looked easy enough to pass over and avoid the worst of it. All the same he'd rather have been able to finish with that drone he'd been playing with back at base.
"Hmm, I'm good with this." He decided. "What's life without a little excitement?"
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Post by Caliber on Jan 9, 2012 17:43:18 GMT -5
OOC: Apologies for the extreme post delay. I've been dealing with a lot lately, and it's gotten a little stressful. You guys can skip me and do another round of posts. I'll post when my turn comes next.
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Post by Mikey on Jan 23, 2012 4:10:22 GMT -5
“I can accept these terms.” Oscar said as he watched the pictures. He’d seen more concentrated groups of undead in his time, but always through a scope from a high location. He made it a rule to stay away from the things at all costs. You didn’t even need to be bit to get infected.
Much as he would hate to admit thinking like the jackass at the table, the thought of using the rooftops of the marketplace also crossed his mind. That was his way to travel, without a doubt.
“When do we leave?” He asked. If anything Fad said was true, they would be going here soon.
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Post by Kan on Mar 23, 2012 10:38:50 GMT -5
OOC: Cleaned up OOC discussion and such, rp is officially back on.
IC:
The camera is placed back on Fad's neck as he raises up out of his chair, taking a last long drink from his glass of water. "We leave now, before the concentration grows anymore" he says before pushing his chair in, as he does so his shirt flows away from his hips for a moment, a faint image of a Glock and a belt mounted double magazine pouch visible to the others.
As the others did what they needed Fad made his way through the bar area to the entrance of the hotel, lowering his sunglasses and digging into his right cargo pocket, pulling out an old and slightly beat up hat, a sun-bleached OD color with a equally sun bleached logo on the front, putting it on as he passed through the doors.
He made his way to the security point, keeping sure to avoid any direct looks, after all he was only a photo journalist...
(Fad has moved to Market place)
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