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Post by Mikey on Nov 19, 2008 22:28:46 GMT -5
Tegel is like any other airport in the world, large, confusing, and full of tourists. Except, this one is full of German soldiers armed and geared up to the teeth.
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Prussian
Zombie Hunter
Respect to the Man in the Ice Cream Van.
Posts: 160
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Post by Prussian on Jun 1, 2010 22:24:44 GMT -5
[4 and 1/2 Hours Later]
((Author's Note: For those of you unaware, MP stands for Military Police.))
Matthias's flight touched down. He'd never been one for math, and defiantly not one for economics. Hence why'd he not considered that the Egyptian Gineih was now worth significantly more then a Euro, and lucky him it'd been a European plane that'd taken him from Cairo. This for Matthias had meant one very important thing, lots and lots more alcohol then previously anticipated.
He stumbled from the docking bay, with a half-full glass of vodka and coke, loudly singing.
"Heute wollen wir marschieren! Einen neuen Marsch probieren! In dem schönen Westerwald! Ja da pfeift der Wind so kalt!"
He walked to the nearest general stand.
"Oh du schöner Westerwald! Über deine Höhen pfeift der Wind so kalt! Jedoch der kleinste Sonnenschein! -- Malbaro Sieb Und Zwanzigs, bitte! -- Dringt tief ins Herz hinein!" said Matthias, interrupting his boisterous drunken singing only to ask for ciagerettes.
The very bewildered Turkish salesman complied, and was further confused by the large wad of foreign money that was thrown in his general direction. Concerned he attracted the attention of a local Bundeswehr MP.
Matthias, utterly oblivious, continued his drunken merrymaking. Lighting a cigarette as he strolled toward the exit, changing his song when he forgot the rest of the lyrics to the previous.
"Es braust ein Ruf wie Donnerhall! Wie Schwertgeklirr und Wogenprall! Zum Rhein, zum Rhein, zum deutschen Rhein! Wer will des Stromes Hüter sein?!" he sang loudly, oblivious to the other terminal patrons parting like the red sea as he stumbled down toward the exit, and equally oblivious to the three Bundeswehr MPs approaching him swiftly from the rear.
His drunken jamboree was interrupted when he was grabbed on the shoulder rather sternly by a MP.
"SIE MUSSEN BEZAHLEN MIT EUROS ODER DEUTSCHMARKS! UND KEINE RAUCHEN AUF DAS TERMINAL!" yelled the MP, taking Matthias's cigarette from his mouth, throwing it to the ground and stomping it out.
<You must pay with Euros or Deutschmarks! And no smoking in the terminal!>
Matthias shook his head, taking a second to fully comprehend the events that just unfolded.
"Jezt! Du zuhörst! Wenn du tun das noch einmal, wir sind gehen zu haben ein Problem." hissed Matthias, this was a sin he'd usually beat a stranger within inches of his life for, but as he had a full pack, and the stranger was kind enough to address him in his native language, so he'd let this son of a b*tch off with a warning.
<Now! You listen! If you do that again, we're going to have a problem.>
The MP threw Matthias against a wall. Forcing his hands against his back. The scene grabbing the attention of several Japanese tourists, who promptly began taking pictures.
"Nein, Herr, Du willst ein Problem haben. Verstanden?" said the MP in a harsh tone.
<No, Sir, You will have a problem. Understood?>
Matthias turned, clapping his heels together and lifting his right hand in a NAZI salute.
"HERR JA WOHL HERR. DORT WOLLEN SEIN KEINE RAUCHEN HIER! HEIL HITLER!" yelled Matthias in the shrillest, most stereotypical sounding German he could muster.
<SIR YES SIR! THERE WILL BE NO SMOKING HERE! HAIL HITLER!>
The MP threw Matthias against the wall and hand-cuffed him.
"Du wenig Arschloch, meine Großaltern gestorben auf Auswitz." growled the MP.
<You little a**hole, my Grandparents died in Auswitz.>
"Heh... es tut mir leid." said Matthias.
<Heh... my bad>
[Fifteen Minutes Later]
"So... wir haben zwei unerlaubt gewehrin und ein verfallen BSAA Kennzeichen unter ein falsch Name, soll ich sprang über alle das stier-scheißer und nur verfe dich auf Stammheim?" hissed the Airport Interrogator.
<So... we have two unlicensed firearms and an expired BSAA badge under a false name, should I skip the bulls*** and just throw you in Stammheim?>
"Uh... Ich will zu Jemand rufen." said Matthias, the experience significantly sobering him up.
<Uh... I want my phone-call.>
The Interrogator chuckled, "Natürlich, aber wer?"
<Naturally, to who?>
"Bundeswehr Oberstleutnant Fritz Schutzenhoffer." Matthias said.
<Bundeswehr Lieutenant-Colonel Fritz Schutzenhoffer.>
The Interrogator tilted his head in the same fashion as a dog does one confused.
"Na schön...." said the Interrogator, handing him the payphone, the number already dialed.
<Very well....>
It rang for several seconds.
"Hallo..." a tired voice came on the other end.
"Ah! Fritz! Wie gehts! Es ist Matthias!" said Matthias excitedly.
<Ah! Fritz! How ya doing! It's Matthias!>
"Heilig Scheisser, tun du weisst was zeit es ist? Und was ist dies Number... mein Gott... Auf Schwierigkeit noch einmal? Wie langer hasst du gewesen auf die Land?" inquired Fritz groggily on the other end.
<Holy s***, do you know what time it is? And what is this number.. my God... in trouble again? How long have you been in the country?>
"Funfzane Minuten ich denke, heh." said Matthias sheepishly.
<Fifteen minutes I think, heh.>
"Gott in Himmel. Lass mich spreche zu die Abfrageeinrichtung." said Fritz, audibly annoyed.
<God in Heaven. Let me speak to the Interrogator.>
Matthias handed to the phone to the Interrogator, who just said 'Ja' several times then handed the phone back to Matthias.
"Genommen anteilnahme auf. Morgen gehst zu Der Reichstag. Wir wollen sehen was wir kann tun mit dich." said Fritz, hanging up the phone.
<Taken care of. Tomorrow go to the Reichstag. We will see what we can do with you.>
Matthias stood and stretched, giving the baffled Interrogator a 'f**k you' kind of look as he strode past him, grabbed his bags and made his way to the exit.
Matthias was woken by a loud yell directly in his ear.
"STEHT AUF! HELIKOPTER FLIEGT AB IN DREIZIG MINUTEN!" yelled some Bundeswehr soldier, standing over him.
<Get up! Helicopter takes off in 30 minutes!>
Matthias blinked, he'd been up for maybe a second and already his head felt like Stalingrad.
"I'll have zee rent by tomorrow Ahmed." Matthias muttered incoherently, only mildly aware of his surrounding, his brain attempting to frantically comprehend why his landlord was yelling at him in German. Perhaps he thought'd it be more effective? What'd he do yesterday -- oh that's right.
"STEHT AUF!" the Bundeswehr soldier yelled again.
Matthias rolled out of bed, standing and wincing at the bright light and hustling soldiers moving left and right of him.
"Bekommen Sie anziehen, neun-und-dreizig minuten." said the Bundeswehr soldier, walking off to harass someone else attempting to enjoy their sleep.
<Get dressed, twenty nine minutes.>
Matthias let out a long, almost bestial yawn and reached for his bags. He threw on whatever clothes was on top of his case and began hurriedly walking to the Bundeswehr Quartermaster.
"Ist dort ein Scrhank oder etwas Ich kann legt mein Stoff auf?" asked Matthias.
<Is there a locker or something I can put my stuff in?>
"Nein, du willst zu das Flughafen Gepäck Dienst gehen." said the Quartermaster.
<No, you'll have to go to the Airport's baggage service.>
"Gott verdammt." said Matthias.
He grabbed his bags and made a hurried dash through the air-port, inadvertently catching the attention of four MPs who quickly began to give chase.
"Halt! Halt!" they yelled after him again.
Matthias ignored their orders, continuing his sprint to the baggage service.
He stopped dead at a line of about three people.
"Fick mich..." Matthias said, putting down his bags and promptly being tackled by an MP.
"Warum so eilig -- Oh Gott verdammt, es ist dies ficker noch einmal." said the MP standing up after getting a good look at Matthias.
<What's the hurry -- Oh God Damnit, it's this f**ker again.>
Matthias stood up and brushed himself off.
"Ich habe... wie zehn minuten bis meine Fahrt hört auf. Bundeswehr Angelegenheit." said Matthias.
<I have... like ten minutes until my ride leaves.>
The MP sighed, "Warum nicht nur sagst das?"
<Why didn't you just say that?>
Matthias shrugged sheepishly. He could've blamed it on the fact that he was hung-over, but truthfully he'd always viewed the authorities as an enemy, and the idea of them being on his side, was something he'd thought he'd never get use to. On the other side, so were zombies.
Matthias rushed to the LZ, managing to slide his way into the NH90 Helicopter just as the blades began to turn.
"Froh du gemachst es. Züge, dies ist Matthias, das Bewaffnung Händler." said the Bundeswehr Captain, chuckling at Matthias's rushed entry.
<Glad you could make it. Boys, this is Matthias, the Arms Dealer.>
The men chuckled, looking over Matthias with suspicion. Matthias was used to this, one thing that seemed transcend any cultural barrier, was that a group of armed men who'd fought together, weren't fond of outsiders.
"Really 'en, 'wot are ya sellin'?" rang out a voice with a cockney British Accent.
Matthias leaned forward in his seat to see the speaker, a stern looking Brit.
"Ah, an Englischmann, zee ozhers speak Englisch?" Matthias inquired, glancing at the Bundeswehr soldiers.
They all fell silent as if attempting to break some code, if any of them spoke English to any degree of mastery, it certainly wasn't good enough to understand muffled under the roar if the Copter's blades. With the exception of the Bundeswehr Captain, who eyed the two sharply, wordlessly informing them he comprehended every word and warning to keep both the English and Deutsch tongues in check.
"Well, 'at scary looking one, rest of 'is lot can speak it 'ert two s***s. 'As one hellofah' accent ya got 'er, mate. Be perfect fer' a movie." said the Brit.
"Could say zee same for you." said Matthias.
The Brit chuckled, "Fair 'nuff 'en, fair 'nuff."
"Shut zee f**k up, both of you. I need to hear zee radio." hissed the Bundeswehr Captain, giving a cold glare to both Matthias and the Brit.
"Wir abfahrend das sauber-zone. Waffen-frei von hier zu das Ziel." the Pilot's voice hissed over the speakers.
<We're leaving the clean-zone. Weapons-free from here to the destination.>
Matthias peered out the window, watching the buildings and overall landscape become more and more devastated and forlorn the farther they went from the airport. Indeed, things we're worse then he'd feared.
[Matthias is currently in the air-space over Berlin]
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Post by .Merios on Jul 13, 2010 19:36:22 GMT -5
With a heave, a large olive-drab pack hit the ground with a thud. Moments after, Matthew's boots hit the dirt next to it. Military security- they're not too secure when they're confused. He looked to the left- at the gate which he had bypassed by scaling the barbed-wire wall. There was a BMW- which looked like it had four corpses in it- that was ablaze, men surrounded it, spraying spurts of white foam from fire extinguishers all over the interior of the vehicle. Matthew quickly gathered his pack and slung it over his shoulder, taking off in a full sprint to the building in front of him. It was all open ground, but he had luck on his side- the gas tank exploded on the car, flattening two men that were trying to put out the flames that licked the driveway.
He stopped at a rather uninviting metal door which seemed to be on the "back" of the building. While security was still focused on the dangers of smoking in a highly-priced sports car, Matthew unzipped his pack and withdrew a can of pressurized air. He looked at the lock- it was a simple padlock-with-chain holding the door closed. He pulled the tape off the straw on the side of the can and stuck it into it's nozzle. He moved the can to the chain and turned it upside down, placing the straw against one of the links and lifting up his scarf over his mouth as he depressed the button. He held it there, letting the can get freezing cold underneath his gloved hand. The metal of the chain seemed to gather what looked like frost as the chlorofluorocarbons in the compressed air liquefied and seemed to have a freezing effect on the chain. He waited until the can was completely out before dropping it. He grabbed the chain with both of his hands (on opposite sides of the frozen bit) and gave it a hard tug, snapping the chain quietly. He easily pulled the chain from the door's handle and silently placed it on the ground. He stuffed the can back into his bag and turned the handle on the door. He could have just pulled the chain and padlock straight off the door, but that would prove to cause a lot of noise which he couldn't have explained away with any amount of witticisms.
He pushed the door open but was met with resistance. He pryed it open just enough to look inside the crack- there was four boxes stacked up against the door and the rest of the room looked like an old storage closet. He heaved against the door cautiously and moved the boxed with the door to the side, taking caution not to knock over the boxes. He slipped inside, pulling his pack through the door and taking the chain from the ground. He shut the door quietly and placed the boxes back over the exit, stuffing the chain into a nearby open one. Matthew finally turned to get a good look at the room- it was dark and claustrophobic. He looked up and noticed a single bulb in the middle of the room with a white string dangling from it tied in a knot at the end. He reached up and pulled the string, the bulb flickering to life, bathing the room in a dull yellow light.
The only exit he saw was one that was directly in front of him and, by the looks of it, lead directly into the terminal. He quickly shut off the lights and quickly took off his scarf and jacket and slid it into his back pack, disarming himself and stuffing his holsters into the bag. He zipped the bag and stood up, attempting to make himself presentable by running a dirty hand through his hair and wiping his dirty hand on an even dirtier undershirt. With a sigh, he opened the door, grabbing his bag and slipping it over his shoulder. He headed out into the terminal, watching two guards grab a fire extinguisher and run out the doors. Most of the attention was given to the burning car outside of the doors and the MP's chaotically running about. As one of the MP's passed him heading to the bathroom, Matthew took the opportunity to follow him. He stepped inside of the bathroom- there were six stalls- all open and the MP was using one of the four empty urinals. Matthew set his bag by one of the stalls and walked up to the MP, taking the urinal next to him. Nervousness set in as the MP eyed him suspiciously. Matthew smirked and moved his left hand up behind the man's head and grasping onto his hair, slamming his head forward into the wall, cracking the vinyl, the MP's body collapsing to the ground.
Matthew quickly moved behind the man and flushed the urinal, grabbing onto his shoulders and dragging him inside one of the stalls. He sat the man on the toilet and pushed his limp head back onto the tank. With hesitation, Matthew removed the man's slacks and long-sleeved shirt along with his hat and jacket. Matthew quickly removed his own pants and slipped on the black slacks, taking care not to crease them too much. He slid on the warm gray shirt with a grunt and buttoned it up. He grasped the black jacket and slipped it on, taking note of the medals on the breast. At last, he took the cap on the man's head and tucked his hair into it, setting it on top of his head. He grabbed his own clothes and stepped out of the urinal, leaving the unconscious, half-naked MP in the closed stall. Matthew jogged to the sink, quickly turning the water on and cleaning his hands and face. As he finished up, another MP walked in- without a jacket, looking around for a urinal. Matthew turned to him and the man gave him a nod and walked past, stopping at a stall and entering.
Matthew smiled and walked to the entrance, opening up his bag and slipping the clothes within. He stepped out of the bathroom and held the bag in his right hand, walking towards the flight board. He stopped to look it over. He noticed one that he could barely read (he wasn't well versed in German) that read:
"UAH-34 Flight #233 to Washington DC"
Matthew turned to the baggage check line, noticing MP's stepping past the metal detectors just by flashing a badge. Matthew set his bag down and searched his pockets, finding a badge in his breast pocket. It didn't have a picture, just a few numbers, a name, and an insignia. He smirked and picked back up his bag and headed towards the baggage check area, following another MP who was walking ahead of him. The MP in front of him flashed his badge at a stationed soldier, who glanced at it and waved him through. When it came to Matthew's turn, the man looked at the badge he flashed, then looked to Matthew's face, and then waved him through.
Matthew breathed a sigh of relief as he tucked the badge back into his breast pocket. He passed through a wide open area before heading out a metal door to a staircase leading up, which a few MP's were walking up. He followed, eventually stepping foot outside of a double door. In front of him a large cargo helicopter was starting up it's rotors. Matthew, pressing a hand over his cap, jogged towards the chopper, noticing the tail number: "UAH-34". The side door was open and he stepped in, the rest of the MP's sitting down on a bench that stretched the length of the cabin. Matthew moved to sit down on the bench, slipping his bag underneath his seat. He took care to notice the exits and parachutes just in case the flight took a wrong turn.
He heard one man call out the words "Dreiundzwanzig! Starten!". Matthew saw that one of the MP's closed the rear hatch and slid the side doors shut. A few of the men were lighting up cigarettes and getting into comfortable positions. There were boxes stacked up around the cabin and almost every soldier had some sort of weapon nearby. Matthew took off his cap and sighed, leaning against a box and closing his eyes. He knew he had to get some rest- he wasn't going to be bothered in a flight with so many other non-essential personnel. Matthew also knew that Washington DC had a more rigorous identification system and he couldn't land. That only meant one thing- he was leaving before they landed.
[Matthew has left Berlin, in Mid-Air over the Atlantic]
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Prussian
Zombie Hunter
Respect to the Man in the Ice Cream Van.
Posts: 160
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Post by Prussian on Aug 13, 2010 17:25:52 GMT -5
[5 miles from the 'Green Zone' around Tegel Airport]
Fifteen minutes into the ride to Tegel Airport with a BSAA personnel and two GSG9 agents had begun to remind Matthias of a road-trip with his parents. He sat in the back with his Ipod headphones, his music creating an odd soundtrack to the relatively boring ride.
Even if it was auf Russisch it really didn't matter. At this point he was still under the influence of the substance that Dutch refugee had sold him in the slum surrounding the Berlin green zone. Set around the capital outside the large concrete that surrounded the Bundestag. The wall encompassed the military's base of operations for the Stadt, which had been built in the years after the ZK1. It was a sea of makeshift homes, made from rubble and scrap routinely brought in by scavengers who went into the Berlin red zones to take anything of use or value.
<ZKI: Zombie-Krieg Eins = Zombie War One>
Hazy and zoned out, Matthias at sensed the atmosphere of panic only when his fellow passengers began moving and yelling loudly. By that time he only had chance to glass at the white civilian armored car speeding toward them. All he remembered was noticing all the Infected clinging to the open doors & windows of the armored car before it collided with his vehicle.
He shook his head as his hearing returned, now he heard it. The chorus of hands slamming against the overturned car and the constant moaning from hungry infected. Matthias unbuckled his seatbelt and hit the ceiling of the car. He reached for his pistol as he positioned himself, using both of his legs to kick open the car door. He crawled out of the car, unintentionally being helped to his feet by several infected who grabbed onto him.
Things seem to go in slow motion as Matthias realized he was face-to-face with a tightly-packed crowd of infected dining on the remains from the car crash, who all began to turn their heads in his direction. Matthias grabbed the closest infected and whipped it around, kicking it into the crowd. Several infected fell from the initial impact, and more continued to trip over their fallen peers. This bought Matthias enough time to climb on top of the wrecked car and take in the size of the horde, which was at least a hundred strong, and growing.
He had no idea how much ammo he had on him, if any help was coming and how long he'd been here. The zombies swarmed around the car, unable to climb on top but still tirelessly trying. Remembering his training he drew his USP and took a deep breath, lining up his first shot. The pistol fire rang out, an infected fell down. A second rang out, and a second infected fell. Then another, and another, and so on and so on. He routinely reloaded but never checked how much ammo he had left, he just dutifully cut a bloody path through the crowd. After approximately 75 shots (every shot but 4 having made their mark with a head-shot) he reached for another clip but only found his pack of cigarettes. He looked around, noting two things on the ground, a metal plate for the armored car's wheels, and a growing pool of leaking fuel.
He grabbed his lighter and lit a cigarette, inhaling as he drew his combat knife and jumped off the vehicle and grabbed the armored wheel cover. He gripped the bolts of the armored cover and held it like a shield, with the combat knife gripped firmly in his other hand he began slashing through the infected trickling into the shrinking pathway of infected corpses. He moved quickly, whirling away from infected on the sides as they reached out at him. One infected stepped out in front of him and grappled onto his shoulders, trying to take a bite out of his neck. Matthias brought up his make-shift shield into the chin of the infected, knocking the zombie back and pointing his head skyward. Matthias then brought down his knife directly into the zombie's forehead and bashed it's head down with the shield, helping to free the blade from the infected's skull.
As his distance from the crash grew, he removed his half-smoked cigarette and flicked it in the direction of the gasoline. He turned and began plowing through the remaining zombies as the gasoline caught fire and began to slither toward the crash, setting zombies on fire as it did so. Meanwhile Matthias frantically ran from the crowd, knocking down and jumping over any zombies that got in his path. As he finally ran out of the tightly packed crowd of zombies the fire reached the gas-tank of one of the wrecked vehicles. A massive explosion engulfed the zombies nearby as Matthias hurriedly made his way from the now partially burned crowd of infected slowly shambling after him.
[Two hours later]
As the sun began to set on the Berlin skyline, a single individual walking down the center of the road became visible to the soldiers at the northernmost outpost. Matthias welcomed the sight of the Bundeswehr AGF that approached him from down the road.
"Was zum fick passiert zu dich?" the driver of the AGF asked Matthias, looking over the BSAA informant covered in bits of blood, organs and flesh.
<What the f**k happened to you?>
"Schlecht fahrend." Matthias responded, "Ich bin hier zu komme nach mit einige BSAA leute." he added.
<Bad driving. I'm here to met with some BSAA people.>
"Was passiert zu dein Geleite?" asked the AGF driver.
<What happened to your escort?>
Matthias sighed, gesturing at his blood-spattered clothing, "Sie tut nicht es machen." he said shaking his head.
<They didn't make it.>
"Verdammen. Kommst zwischen." the driver said, the back passenger compartment sliding open at his words.
<Damn. Come inside.>
"Danke." Matthais said, throwing aside the bloodied armored wheel-plate and getting inside the AGF's back passenger compartment, collapsing in the nearest seat the moment he did so.
[15 minutes later]
Matthias sat, still covered in blood, outside the BSAA's office in the middle of the airport's terminal. Numerous people gave him strange looks as they passed by, including a cadre of what Matthias would have sworn were the same Japanese tourists from his last event at the airport snapping pictures of him. Eventually a rather attractive women in a formal BSAA uniform called him into her office.
"Das Panzerplatte Auto Sie zerstört war führend ein hundrettausend Euro." she hissed, a Swish accent notable in her speak.
<That armored-car you destroyed was carrying 10,000 Euro.>
"Bitte, Ich tut nicht bemerke." Matthias said, not attempting to mask the tone of annoyance in his voice.
<Sorry, I didn't notice.>
"Wo zum Hölle ist dein Geleite?" the woman asked, visibly angry.
<Where the hell is your escort?>
"Tot, oder verschärfen." Matthias said casually.
<Dead, or worse.>
"Was? Du, einige wenig Ganove Piefke, überlebte aber nicht das GSG9 Bewacher oder das BSAA Agent?" she almost yelled, responding in the same manner a teacher would at a fake homework excuse.
<What? You, some little hoodlum Kraut ((Pfieke: Derogatory term for Germans used by the Swish & Austrians)) survived but not the GSG9 guards or the BSAA agent?>
"Ja." Matthias said with a shrug, "Ja, Ziege. Ich bin nur das gut." he muttered under his breath.
<Yes. Yeah, b*tch. I'm just that good.>
She shook her head, "Das Abdeckungen dein Feld Prüfung dann. Nur dein vorarbeitend Einsatz. Ich will seehe wenn Ich kann ein senior Agent finden." she grumbled, focusing on her lab-top.
<That covers your field exam then. Just the preparatory mission. I'll see if I can find a senior agent.>
"Nur macht selbst sauber und sein leise für ein bisschen." she added, running her hands through her hair in a frusturated manner.
<Just wash-up and be quite for a little bit.>
"Ja wohl." Matthias said with a mock salute, turning and exiting the office.
<Yes mam'.>
"Jezt... wo zum fick ist ein Dusche um hier." Matthias said, looking around the busy airport.
<Now... where the f**k is a Shower around here.>
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Post by .Merios on Aug 13, 2010 21:56:09 GMT -5
The door to the BSAA Field Office swung open just enough to let a body through. The room was empty, save for the woman manning the desk. She had attractive yet stern facial features and legs that went on for miles. Spencer stepped in, the BSAA Polyester khaki jacket, which was covering a black t-shirt, almost got caught in the door as he slid in and stepped one foot towards the desk. He had a sort of.. Presence about him, commanding the attention of the room as if he owned the place. The woman looked from a dossier that she was examining and smiled. The sides of Spencer's lips curled in a small yet polite smile back as he moved towards the desk, standing in front of it, his black combat boots touching the mahogany wood paneling on the bottom. "Hello, Captain Spencer," she said in a , moving her right hand to her eyebrow. Spencer quickly waved his hand a bit and she stopped mid movement and nodded apologetically and sat down. She outstretched her hand, motioning for him to sit as well.
"Nice to see you again, Sarah. How's Jefferey?" He said, reaching behind him for a cushioned chair and pulling it a bit forward and moving to sit down.
"He's stacking blocks now. Looking more and more like his daddy." She said with a flustered grin.
Spencer smiled, moving into a comfortable position on his right side and straightening his back, moving his right leg up and crossing it over his left knee.
"So, you said you've got a trainee for me? From..-"
"From the Izmaylovskaya, yes. He made quite an impression."
Spencer shifted in his seat, his eyes focusing on her for a moment with a inquisitive look furrowing on his face.
"So that was what all the fuss was about back on the highway? One little arms dealer out-performed an Agent and three GSG9 guards?."
"Fortunately, Mr. Pruessen was the only one to.. Awaken after the crash."
Spencer sighed a bit.
"So, we lost an Agent and gained an ex-Arms Dealer? Who made this decision?"
She shook her head, "I don't know. I'm against the arroganter stichel even being in the room, sir."
Spencer couldn't help but smirk.
"So.. Where is the.. Stichel.. Now?"
She motioned to the door with her left hand, then brought it back to her lap.
"He seems to have some.. Skills, if you want to call them that. Apparently one learns a lot about killing after funding massacres."
Spencer gave her a shrug, "I wouldn't let him get under your skin. I'll take care of him."
He moved to stand, pushing the chair back a bit as she quickly stood, giving him a salute. He smiled and nodded to her as he turned to the door, stepping towards it. He glanced at her one last time, his right hand on the knob.
"It was nice to see you again. I hope to work with you soon."
"And you, Sir."
Spencer swung open the door and stepped out, turning around and shutting it behind him gingerly. He looked around, inhaling and letting out a long breath. It was about time he was back in civilization.
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Prussian
Zombie Hunter
Respect to the Man in the Ice Cream Van.
Posts: 160
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Post by Prussian on Aug 19, 2010 20:48:38 GMT -5
Throughly disgusted by the public shower and bored waiting for this 'Agent Spencer', Matthias had decided to visit the 'Neu Watergate' bar. Originally an ill-fated attempt to create a 'grocery store' in the airport for travelers, the large space had been bought out by some wealthy German businessman who thought the people needed music and alcohol more than fresh fruit. It was named after the popular club in downtown Berlin, which was now only populated by a teeming horde of undead. Matthias couldn't help but think he looked pretty sharp in his BSAA uniform, even if if the words 'trainee' were stitched into it in at least six places. Of course he also looked like a cop, and wasn't to happy about his clothes being burned as a 'biohazard danger'.
Matthias glanced through Agent Spencer's public file on the BSAA's website, a controversial program brought about for greater transparency with the international agency to help public relations. This was optional for field agents or anyone who thought having their identity so blatantly available could be dangerous. This, to Matthias, meant that Herr Spencer either had balls of steel, s*** for brains or both. Either way his mind dwelled more on that first sweet breath of nicotine, with 'Neu Watergate' being the only indoor smoking-zone in Tegel, according to a few employees he'd asked anyways.
Matthias entered the area to find it was not nearly as lively as he expected. Instead of a club atmosphere, the self-proclaimed 'heart of Europe's night-life' seemed more like a pimped-out Bavarian pub. Several old Heino records played quietly in the background and a few airport employees and travelers sat at the bar watching the news. Thankfully the scent of tobacco in the air confirmed the story he'd heard from the airport employee. He lit up a cigarette and examined the area, stepping on the deserted dance-floor to see a club employee asleep in a chair next to a very expensive looking DJ-board with a CD-player plugged into the sound-system.
A thought shot through Matthias's head as a devious grin spread across his face, he reached into his pocket and took out his shiny new BSAA trainee badge. "Soll Ich?" he thought, looking at the badge then to the DJ-board. When an American 50s song randomly came up on the CD mix, he nodded to himself. "Trotzig."
<Should I? Defiantly.>
Matthias walked up to the sleeping employee. He read the employee's name-tag then woke him up, holding his BSAA badge up.
"Entschuldigung, Herr Werner, das BSAA wollen zu ausfragen dich." Matthias said.
<Excuse me, Mr.Werner, the BSAA wishes to question you.>
"Was? Warum?" the employee asked, startled and confused.
<What? Why?>
"Wir gefangen ein mann mit sehr viele Drogen. Er gesagt das Sie vertriebend es." Matthias said, eying the employee up and down.
<We caught a man with alot of drugs. He said that you sold it to him.>
"Was? Was? Nein, nein, nein, das war nicht mich." the employee said.
<What? WHAT?! No, no, no, that was not me.>
"Ich nicht das Sie war sagend." Matthias said, "Wir nur wollen zu ausfragen dich, das is alles."
<I'm not saying you did. We just want to question you, that's all.>
"Aber das war nicht mich!" the employee shouted, attracting some attention from the small group of patrons.
<But that wasn't me!>
"Herr, du kannst über dort gehen, oder ich kann über dort dich schleppen." Matthias said in a stern tone.
<Sir, you can go over there, or I can drag you over there.>
"Ja... ja, Ich verstehe. Geht zu das BSAA office, ja?" he asked.
<Yeah... yeah, I understand. Go to the BSAA office, right?>
Matthias nodded his head.
"Sie sind nicht gehend zu mich begleiten?" the employee asked.
<You're not going to escort me there?>
"Nein, nur ausfragen, gedenken? Ehre-System." Matthias said, patting the employee on the back.
<No, just questioning, remember? Honor-system.>
"Ja, danke. Ich will jezt gehen." the Employee said hurriedly leaving the Neu Watergate.
<Yeah, thank-you. I'll go now.>
Matthias grinned as he turned to the DJ-board.
Meanwhile...
Instead of Matthias all that was waiting for Agent Spencer on the other-side of the door was a man in a formal Bundeswehr Officer's uniform that was more decorated than a Christmas tree. He looked extremely frustrated and muttered quietly in German to himself. Upon seeing Agent Spencer enter the room he stood up and shook his hand.
"Evening, you must be Mr.Spencer I presume. Your reputation proceeds you. I am Colonel Pruessen, I'm the one who requested the training mission. I'll be your military contact for this mission, in part because of my relation to our trainee." he said, grumbling in German at the end of the statement.
"My cousin has, as seems to be his prerogative, vanished. Airport security's in the process of finding him, I suspect he left to sneak a cigarette." he said, his tone indicating this was a familiar situation for him.
As if on cue a airport MP entered the room, he walked up to Colonel Pruessen and saluted him. "Herr, wir haben dein vetter finden. Aber..." the MP said.
"Was?" Colonel Pruessen asked in a sharp tone.
"Wir können nicht er erreichen." the MP said.
"Wie..." Colonel Pruessen asked, this time more confused than angry. "Fick es. Nur bekannen mich zu er." he added in a sharp tone.
"Ja, Herr." the MP said, gesturing for Agent Spencer to follow.
"Apparently they're having trouble reaching him. I can assure you despite my cousin's flaws he served the BSAA very well as an informant." Colonel Pruessen said, visibly embarrassed though not surprised by his cousin's absence.
The MP lead them to the 'Neu Watergate', which was now bouncing with activity. Loud music echoed through the halls nearby while the bass could be felt several yards from the entrance. Colonel Pruessen sighed as they entered, he began looking through the thickly packed crowd of dancers until a MP tapped him on the shoulder and pointed to the stage. Matthias was visible wearing headphones on one ear, focusing on the DJ-board through occasionally jumping while fist-pumping with the crowd.
Colonel Pruessen angrily cut through the crowd, the MPs helping him knock people out of the way as he approached the stage. Just as the song came to an end Colonel Pruessen stepped up on the stage and grabbed Matthias by the ear.
"Das Party ist vorbei!" he yelled into the microphone as he dragged Matthias by the ear off the stage while being assaulted by an angry chorus of boos from the crowd. Pulling him by the ear like a child until he reached Agent Spencer.
<The Party's over!>
"What the f**k were you doing?!" Colonel Pruessen asked, smacking his cousin in the back of the head.
"Vhat? They didn't tell me to go anyvhere. Thought I was suppose to kill time." Matthias said with a shrug, his accent notably heavier than his cousin's.
"This is how you 'kill time'?" Colonel Pruessen hissed.
"I'm a man of the people." Matthias said with a shrug, his eyes moving to Agent Spencer. "Ah, you must be Agent Spencer. Pleasure to make your acquaintance." holding out his hand to shake Agent Spencer's.
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Post by .Merios on Aug 22, 2010 19:12:33 GMT -5
Spencer looked down at the man's hand, then up at Matthias. He turned to Colonel Pruessen and sighed, raising an eyebrow.
"Is this a joke? This is the man that was accepted for BSAA training?"
He turned away and started off out of the restaurant/dance club, motioning for Colonel Pruessen to follow him.
"He's a child, you expect me to train a boy who listens to Techno and Bubblegum Pop?"
Spencer didn't await a response, he continued to walk into the girth of the airport, stepping into the clearing amongst the crowds of people walking to and from various stores, sections and offices. He reached into his jacket and pulled out what looked like a bottle of pills. He cradled it in his hands and quickly unscrewed the cap, pouring two capsules into his left hand and putting the cap back on it, sticking it into his jacket. He quickly slapped the pills into his mouth, tilting his head back and downing them. He let out a long sigh, his eyes scanning the area in front of him, one music store and a coffee shop.
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