The helicopter descended onto the landing pad located on top of the parking garage, emptying its contents of masked men carrying guns. All five were identical, and each held a black metal suitcase. Atlas himself didn't seem to be appearing in person, but the speaker system on the helicopter sure let himself be known.
"Good Morning", came a wry and jolly voice. "This is quite the turnout, I was expecting a S.W.A.T. team again. Some people just don't know how to play by the rules."
The suitcase bearing men were still as statues.
"I'm glad to have this honor. I hope you make it to Alaska in one piece, and even more importantly, with my suitcases intact. I trust you read the rules of my game. Well, of course you did! Otherwise you'd be dead!."
A sound of roaring laughter could be heard over the speaker. The masked men moved forward to deliver the suitcases, handing one to each of the five men awaiting.
"Now," Atlas started. "Get out of here. You don't exactly have time to waste."
Last edited by SideSTEEL WOLF; 12-01-2012 at 06:42 AM.
3:30AM... Tampa Bay, FL
Kenichi had been at Club Skye since 10PM "yesterday"... having a couple drinks here and there, flirting with the hot women that came in, dancing, and just having a great time. He didn't get drunk, as he knew he'd have another courier job later on... but that didn't stop him from having sex with a girl in one of the women's bathroom stalls. Yeah... such was the life of the son of a Yakuza higher-up. Fast cars, fast women, fast thrills, and fast... well... everything. "Later, tight-ass. I gotta go to work." said the young man to the girl he had just screwed. She smiled and waved, knowing his comment on her ass was a compliment rather than an insult. "Three Thirty... better head out. Good thing the rendezvous isn't far." A massive smile crossed the man's face as he walked outside... as this seemed like it'd be damn exciting.
His car roared to life... it's highly-tuned engine purring like a kitten once the initial startup revs had subsided. "Blackbird" is what Kenichi called her. Elegant, Graceful, but a dirty girl once it got to the nitty-gritty... just like her namesake avian. After sliding a CD into the console and selecting his favorite racing music, Kenichi eased his foot onto the clutch, put his car in gear, and HAULED ABSOLUTE ASS out of the private parking spot he rented near the club's doors. The tires squealed with delight as they lost their grip on the asphalt... the sleek lines of his CTS-V distorted somewhat to the eyes of passersby as he drifted around a corner. A quick adjustment on the throttle, accompanied with countersteer and a downshift... caused the luxury automobile to scream in ecstacy as the high-performance engine redlined just before the car straightened out and once again rocketed down the road.
Not wanting to draw any heat from cops, Kenichi stopped showing off once he was a couple blocks from the club. His police scanner was picking up some signals and getting arrested before he even picked up his delivery wouldn't really be ideal. Easing off the throttle and tapping the shift paddles, Blackbird's excited howls returned to demure and sophisticated humming. "That's my girl. Always classy, no matter what you're doing." ... clearly he was in love with his car. The 2009 Cadillac CTS-V had been chosen by Kenichi for several reasons... but two reasons in specific stood out. One... it was classy. Two... it was inconspicuous. He was used to fine things... and cars were no exception. Top that off with immense performance in a package that most people wouldn't see as a "fast car"... and he had the perfect way to evade suspicions of street racing or reckless driving.
He arrived at the site of the rendezvous with only two minutes to spare... at 3:58AM. "Fashionably early, as always." was what he said as he stepped from his vehicle. As expected, he had some competition... the other cars that had already arrived were all higher-end sports cars. Still... he had 800 Horses going to the wheels, and plenty of torque to back it up... as well as skill. Oh well... when he succeeded and most of them failed and were killed or arrested... they'd know who was better. But alas, he had a job to do, and approached the men bearing the suitcases. "I'm glad to have this honor. I hope you make it to Alaska in one piece, and even more importantly, with my suitcases intact. I trust you read the rules of my game. Well, of course you did! Otherwise you'd be dead!" was what Kenichi heard one man say over a loudspeaker... followed by laughter. Nice bunch, really.
Alaska, though? Damn. That's a lot of miles on Blackbird. And that also meant stopping for at LEAST two oil changes, likely a set of new tires, and probably some basic maintenance. After all... everyone here would probably be driving like maniacs half the time... and that shit wasn't easy on a car. Oh well... shit happened. Besides... there was apparantly a huge payout at the end of this. All in all, it was just another job.
Last edited by Walrus; 12-01-2012 at 07:56 AM.
Corin sagged under the weight of the suitcase. It felt like they made it from cast iron. The hell was in these things? He was still in his concealing outfit, ironically hoping to not catch attention. He could see five good looking cars, which made him feel a bit better about this job. At least he would be driving with people who had taste. The Asian guy looked pretty smug though. He might be pretty tough to stand. Corin shrugged it off, placing the suitcase into his floorboard. He saw the police equipment in his car blinking with a message. He clicked the the message, removed his helmet, and placed the speaker in his ear. It was from the LA Police Chief.
"Hey Corin, give me a call when you can, I've got some advice for ya." rang out the gruff voice of the Chief. Corin clicked a button and let the call ring out.
"Los Angeles Police Department, how can I be of service?" came the female secretary.
"Chief Black. It's Corin." He spoke.
"Sure, one moment." she replied, and the hold music began.
Corin tapped on his dash to the beat of the song, hoping he didn't look too suspicious, considering he was calling the police. After a short while, the Chief picked up.
"Corin my boy, how's Tampa Bay?" He rang out. "Sunny?"
"It's 4:30 AM." Corin Retorted.
"Oh...right. Timezones aren't that far ahead." Black replied. "Anyways, I was calling to tell you, if you get pulled over, just flash your badge. They're pretty universal, no matter where you go in the country."
Corin scoffed. "Why do you assume I'm doing something illegal?"
"No one asks for fast drivers to take their kids to school, son." Chief Black said solemnly.
Corin smiled. "Alright, I'll keep that in mind. Thanks."
With that, they said goodbye and hung up. After donning his helmet, Corin stepped out of his car to see what everyone else was doing, introducing himself.
"Well guys, looks like we're a fleet. Call me Corin."
Kenichi laughed aloud as the man who called himself Corin commented on them being a fleet. "That's all well and good if you think we're a team... but guess what, Gaijin. I'm not on your fucking team. I'm getting this thing to the destination my own way, and I ain't going along with you. If you don't like that... tough titty." And with that, the Yakuza tossed the case into his car, climbed into the driver's seat, and took off. He wasn't a total hothead, though... as he left, he dialed his father. "Yeah, Dad. Yeah, I'm doing that run you hooked me up with. Wants it to go to Alaska. Yes, I'm serious." His father ranted for a time, and when he stopped, Kenichi responded. "Fine, Dad... it'll cut into my drive time, but I'll stop by." And so he plugged in the address to his Father's restaurant into the car's GPS. The drive would obviously be uneventful, as every traffic law was followed... and at 5:12AM, Kenichi stepped inside the safe haven of the Yakuza-controlled establishment.
The two men conversed for a short time, and were then joined by a third. The third was a man appointed as Kenichi's assistant. The trio of men spoke for a total of an hour, formulating a gameplan as to how the package would be handled. At the end of the discussion, they agreed. "You will deliver the item, as intended... and YOU will be sent via plane to meet him at the coordinates. Should he not arrive on time, you know what to do." The old man spoke to the two younger ones, and then dismissed them. And so, the stylish Cadillac roared to life once again, tore away from the restaurant, and headed out on it's intended course. The other man simply walked to the stairwell and returned to his quarters. Hopefully this little detour wouldn't put the delivery too far behind schedule.