Qui Audet Adipiscitur IC (Aussie & Noxious)

OOC
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We must do it. It's the price we pay to sit at the top-table.

David Rorke stepped out of his black Rolls-Royce Silver Shadow, which shined as he had recently cleaned and waxed it. The car deeply contrasted the wooden barracks', the gloomy barbed wire, the deep-green forests that surrounded them, and the dirt runway that ran up the field. There was, however, metal hangars that filled the base as well, containing aircraft from the Supermarine Spitfire, to the Hawker Harrier. There was also an assorted amount of weapons in the wooden barracks'.

There was at least one-hundred men and women assigned to the SOU, who had come from all across the world. They were all picked for a variety of reasons, but all were important. The SOU had a long tradition of being the ultimate defender of the Realm. He walked into a three-story tall concrete building, which was the Strategic Operations office, where all the operations of the SOU were being coordinated and other operations could be monitored. David walked in and hung left, walking into an office which had a desk in the top-left corner of the room from the door, a coffee table in the centre with two lounge chairs on either side of it, a painting on the wall that was on the door-side of the wall, and a map of the British Isles on the right-wall. He closed the door and took a seat at the table, which had piles of papers, a computer, files, and a picture of myself standing beside a Spitfire on it. He picked up a letter that had been left on his desk;

Quote:

---

To: Captain David Rorke
From: Commandant Malcolm Abbott

You aren't going to like this, but with the tragic death of Hugh, you're going to need a new partner. We've assigned a new-comer, Gwen Borroughs, to be your wingman and partner, effective immediately. She will arrive on 13/6/13 at about 15:00. You know we're short-handed on field agents, so we need to get her to an experienced agent, and that's you, David.

Regards.

---

David felt a surge of fury as he threw the paper down.

A pair of moderate heels ascended from the government style vehicle as her feet touched her new “home” for the first time. One of the men who had been sent to retrieve her from the airport was grabbing her bags so she busied herself with lighting up a much needed cigarette. It must have been hours since she had been able to smoke one and she would have closed her eyes to savor the calming effect of the nicotine on her high strung nerves if she hadn’t been too preoccupied with the sights. The car had let her out in front of the large concrete office that gained a few moments of her consideration before she turned to check out the perimeter that surrounded them.

She walked along the soft dirt, inhaling on the cigarette as she assessed their safety. Her briefing had been, well, brief, and to be honest she was a little let down at the appearance of the site. Her last job in the FBI had included gaping windows that framed the city skyline and screamed of tax payer’s dollars well spent, but here? It was true that she enjoyed nature, enjoyed being surrounded by trees, and so her mood was not sour; it simply wasn’t what she had expected.

The man who had grabbed her bag was now making his way the few feet she had wandered so she snubbed out the cigarette and gave him her attention with a nod and a smile. ”Your bags will be taken care of. You are to meet with David Rorke. Enter the building, down to the left. Can’t miss it.” He was gesturing towards the large office building as he spoke and in return he received a thank you and a handshake from the woman before she headed in that direction.

Once she found his door her fingers went to brush down her hair, straighten her suit and as she reached out the fist to knock she reminded herself to stand tall and speak articulately. It would be a lie to say she wasn’t a little nervous and the final thought about talking had her clearing her throat into her hand as she waited for some indication of entry.

David Rorke felt his fury blow over as he stood up in his dark brown over-shirt with matching trousers. His over-shirt was decorated on the left breast with a few bars and medals, obviously earned in his tenure of the Army and in the SOU. He walked over to the door and opened it, and found himself staring at a woman. A beautiful woman.

This was not what he expected at all.

He expected a short, stuffy, old Chinese woman who would play little role at all. But what he got, was a beautiful example of women. He extended his hand, and his mouth curled into a twisted smile, "Captain David Rorke, SOU. Gwen Borroughs, I presume?"

As David opened the door and offered his hand, his name and a smile the some of the tension in her body seemed to ease away. She had been looking down as she'd cleared her throat so she was able to glance the man from his head to his feet. Her own lips curled into a smile as her eyes met his. He was much younger than she'd expected as well and he wasn't bad looking. Not that it should matter, she reminded herself as she let her fingers slide into his palm and shake.

"David Rorke. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"A pleasure to meet you as well, Ms. Borroughs. I had a chance to look over your file when I heard you had been recruited into the SOU, but I had just heard that you were being put under my wing, if you will." David relaxed as he shut the door behind her and took a seat at his desk, offering his hand to a chair opposite to it, "We have much to discuss."

As he ushered her into the chair, he started on his speech, "So, if you aren't aware, we had recently lost a member of the SOU, Hugh Zeigert, in a successful raid on an Am...enemy base." He caught himself, making a mental note that she was an American, and might as well be a spy planted in by the CIA, "Regardless, we're busy as ever before, especially in this state of affairs. You must know by now that the SOU is the foremost and ultimate defender of the British Realm. Your first allegiance is to the SOU, second is Britain, third is Europe. You mustn't forget that, my dear, or you..might end up rather badly."

He motioned to a Webley Revolver left on his desk, obviously making a point, "So, darling, how was your trip..erm..'across the pond,' hm?"

She allowed him to steer her into the room and gazed around the office for a moment as he offered the chair. It had been her job for years to pick up on the subtle nuances that surround people and she could easily have fallen into a string of questions to get to know the man that would be training her, but now was not the time and hopefully they would both be around for long enough to placate her nurtured need for idle chit chat. As he mentioned her file her ears perked and the smell that pressed to her lips beamed a bit. She had seen her file awhile ago and she was sure that the only additions would be more recommendations and glowing reports. It should be as such, for it hadn’t come free. The file he was referring to spoke volumes not only written, but the subtext that pointed to a lack of social life, romantic life, any life beyond the bureau.

She first pressed her skirt flat so it wouldn’t wrinkle any more than travel had already done as she sat down into the chair. Her legs crossed at the knee as she sat and her eyes were trained on him. Bright, inquisitive with a small tinge of anxiety. She had noticed his slight falter in speech, but she passed over it in favor of offering a slightly empathetic frown. He obviously hadn’t wanted to hear her say ‘I’m sorry for your loss’ or any other such empathetic remark. She didn’t blame him. This was business, and even it wasn’t, she doubted he was new to lose and in need of coddling.

As he continued to explain the SOU, her new allegiances, and then point to the gun the slight frown remained. When he finished it pulled tight into a blank expression, one that seemed contemplative, and then added a touch of sincerity as she spoke, “Mr. Rourke, I can assure you that the SOU and the benefits they provide both through intellectual, physical and monetary means are enough to afford my allegiance. I had very little left to learn from the bureau, and I have been assured there was nothing left that I could not acquire here. From you.” She hinted at a smile and he would have to wonder if her last comment was brown nosing a superior or warming up to a partner.

"Good, because if I even suspect that you might be a spy planted in here by the Yanks, I'll put a bullet in your skull." He found his tone go from a calm and collected one, to a furious and vengeful one. He made a face that was obviously self-deprecating, for letting such an outburst occur, "Sorry, Ms. Burroughs. Regardless, it is pleasing to know that you are going to offer your full support and allegiance to the unit, because the consequences of disloyalty are quite...displeasing to me, and I would hate for such a lovely woman to end up like that."

The room fell into silence, only interrupted by the shouting from outside. He reached for a folder that was ontop of the pile of papers on his desk, and opened it, handing a copy of a paper to her, and he gave it a passing glance:

Quote:

---

To: Special Operations Unit Headquarters, Ipswich.
From: Minister of Defence George Tucker, London

This is of utmost importance of National Security. The operation for this is to send a four-man team to the American Fort Fitzgerald in Malta, and disrupt operations there. The base at Malta is essential to their war-effort, and frankly, if they decide to turn the gun on us, we might end up regretting not taking it out. I'm authorising you to use everything at your disposal. The base, as large and essential as it is, is only guarded against ground attack, and the best they could muster for an aerial assault is machine guns. We need you to take out anything you can there.

Provided in this envelope is everything we could collect on the base.

---

He felt the temperature go up as he realised that this was going to be attacking an American base.

She didn’t attempt to interrupt the silence that fell upon them after his little, outburst. Instead she contemplated what he was saying and tried to really allow it to sink in. Should she add that she doubted she could ever commit any act that she thought would endanger her family? While the exchanged phone calls had increased after her husband’s death, it seemed now they had trickled to the normalcy of an estranged and overworked family. But despite their lack of communication, she cared deeply for all of them. This thought made her frown once again, but as he offered her the paper she saw no reason in sharing her thoughts. What were the chances it would come to that? Her family was not aligned with the military, and the SOU was aware of their existence. That should be enough.

She looked down at the missive and her teeth played with her lip, biting it gently as she read. It was a habit of hers when she was concentrating. When she finished reading her eyes met his. She could see a twinge of apprehension or questioning as he waited for her reaction. She offered the paper back to him and sat up straight. “How do you plan on executing this with only a four man team Mr. Rorke? And what can I do to be of assistance?”

"We could do it a number of ways, Ms. Burroughs." He said in a patronising tone, "We could use a bomber, or we could be inserted in and wreck havoc, or we could do it a number of ways. Do you think this is a new thing? No. I've done this type of mission thousands of times, and I will do it thousands of times in the future. Regardless, if we pick my first option, we could use an old beauty. An Avro Lancaster. We had her made from specifications of the real design, with some...additions of our own. For instance, we equipped her with a radar detection jammer that can block even the deepest of search forms. We'll need seven people, but that won't be a problem. Four man is the minimum. We've also fitted her with some more modern bombs, that pack a huge punch but are basically light-weight."

His mouth twisted into a grin, "You are familiar with the Avro Lancaster, correct?"

His patronising tone was met with a slight twitch in her smile. It was obvious that this mission would entail absolutely no regard for the people who were on the base. Years ago this would have made her sick to her core, but now, well now she had experienced enough that the only reaction he would receive was a blink. Inside she was mulling over the man who sat before her. No regard for life, an obvious infatuation with aerospace technology that coupled with what she felt might be an infatuation with himself. At his question she shook her head.

"Familiar? No, I'm sorry. I was not aware that the study of outdated aircrafts would be relevant to my purpose here." She realized they may have come off a little indignant and immediately followed it with a smile she had told could be sweet. "Why don't you enlighten me?"