The Blacklist

[Crossfire]

"The target is on site Team Bravo, we are moving to extract and from there we'll RV to FOB Delta."
"Copy that lad. No confirmation yet on this end of her, but we'll keep ya posted. Bravo out."
C.I.A. Operative Joseph Slade complied and clicked off his communications device. Team Blacklist, a C.I.A. funded unit charged with taking care of off-the-record operations was deep in the middle of a routine extraction/recruitment op. Some bounty hunter had blown away one of their high-level informants in Canada a couple days ago, and the agency was going to pick him up and find out what he knew. There was a small chance that he may even be of use to the Blacklist.
"Alpha squad prepare to go on my command" Slade growled "Small arms, suppressed like we said, and remember- we need him alive"

[j8cob]

Sergei Brolosk was already prepared. Mostly. This op was something he never considered one of his favorites. It required stealth and small arms. Sure, if needed, the old Russian could perform well under those circumstances, but he always preferred the "blowing things up" kinds of operations. Nevertheless, his equipment was ready. Packing a (capitalist made) M4 SOPMOD and a (capitalist made) M9 pistol, he was running with the most basic loadout he has ever seen in his life. Sure, American guns were pretty good. But they just didn't have flair. Basic was Sergei's word for it all. "I am ready," he confirmed to Slade, while comparing how much larger his hand was than the M9's grip.

[kingkonrad]

Nicolas wore a black wool hat over his head, and carried a P90 in his hands. An elaborate weapon- which he liked the feel of, for being the weapon he always needed. A weapon with armour-piercing ammunition, a 50-round mag, and a neat set of attachments. An Aimpoint Micro T-1 sat on the top rail, along with a laser sight on the side rail. A large silencer sat on the end of the muzzle, able to keep the P90's sound signature to a minimum. Apart from that, Nicolas had a silenced Sig Sauer P226- with an 18-round flush magazine, which sat in a holster at his hip. He had his other regular kit- a undershirt with a CIRAS vest- a whole assortment of pouches, from MOLLE pouches, to some other smaller pockets mounted on the plate carrier forming it up as a tactical vest. A pair of Oakley SI Assault Gloves were on his hand- black in color, and likewise, a pair of black and tan Oakley SI Assault boots were on his feet. He felt ready. A Legionnaire didn't get the best choice of kit- yet Nicolas knew he had made the right choice. A slight stubble sat on his face, and with the company of the Russian- who Nicolas knew looked like a T34 Tank in appearance, yet was probably as old as one, he knew the team that they formed up was going to do some damage.
"Roger that. Let's get em'."

[Mister Frost]

Alan yawned as he opened his eyes, he found himself slouched into the seat of the helicopter, just where he had fallen asleep. He scratched his left eye, and his vision fully returned to him. Looking around his saw his two 'team mates', not a term he liked to use. The words team mates meant you had to look out for them, and frankly Alan was not that kind of man. He liked his mind on the mission and the mission alone, not the mission and your team mates, ehhh well, working for the Company he didn't have much choice in the matter. It's not like he had anything better to do, what was a man to do, when you have nothing in life?

He sighed, making it look like another yawn, then checked over his equipment. Since Alan was a man of awkward tastes he didn't carry any automatic weapons, or any semi-automatic rifles, in fact he didn't anything on him, but three pistols. Two M1919's, and a M9. His training allowed him to use weapons like a Kalashnikov or an sniper rifle, he just did not like using them, stract that, he didn't like using guns at all. He'd rather just disable his opponent threw the means of his hands, or whatever he held in his hands and be done with it. Killing people, whether they deserved it or not ... just felt different. When he thought about, Alan was a man trained by the British government to be a killing machine, the kind of person who kills the man, no if's, no buts. And yet he still didn't like killing people ...

He sighed .. again, as he checked the magazines for his three weapons, making sure that they were fully loaded, and properly loaded, no body liked a jammed weapon when under fire. The two M1919s were placed in holstered on the side of his black BDU's. While the M9 was located half way down his left thigh. He liked to have a back up, for his back up, so he also had a few knifes hidden among his body. Come to think about it, Alan was way too paranoid sometimes. He knew he was going on a forced recruitment op (heh), and yet he had armed himself accordingly for war. A weird man he was.

"I'm up." the man said, after sometime to reflect on his twisted thoughts, "so, how we doing this, then?"

[Syn22]

Jack stayed silent the whole flight, he seemed to be deep in thought, which he was. He was thinking about how he was going to adjust to a normal life, a life without killing to survive. He thought about his family, and whether or not his wife remarried. He thought about how much his son as probably grown, and how hard it was without a father. He wondered if his wife would even let him back into their lives. He knew she'd be mad over the fact that he never wrote or a letter, called, or even tried to get back to her over the past few years. He was sure she was told that he had died in duty. That fact upset him, the fact that they would lie to her, because he was a loose end at the time, because they made a deal with an evil man. A lot was on his mind, he figured it'd be best to get it all out of his head before the mission, so he could focus on that. Even though it was to be a simple recruitment mission, Jack knew that nothing was ever simple.
He looked down at his gear. He wore a a multicam woodland camo BDU, and had a standard vest on with ammo pouches to hold his weapon's ammo. He checked his gun, an M16A3, classic firearm he used on many missions. A gun he was comfortable with. He decked his gun out with a EO Tech Holographic sight, a side rail mounted laser sight, and an underbarrel mounted foregrip. In a side holster he had a customized M1911A1 that was his own personal gun. He'd never go on a mission without it. It was silver instead of black, and always kept in the best condition.
After he had looked over his gear, he looked around at the rest of his group. What an interesting group Jack thought to himself. It was true, each member had their on background, came from all kinds of different places, and were all trained in the art of killing. To Jack, this seemed like a group of individuals you wouldn't want to find in a dark alley, hell, anywhere.

[Crossfire]

Slade spoke as he checked his own equipment "The target is volatile, he may draw on us right away, only in that case do any of you have permission to open fire, keep the weapons out of sight otherwise, we don't need any busybodies calling the police to complicate matters. I'd set one of you up with a tranq. rifle to take him down from distance but there's nowhere we can get a clear line of sight. He's either good... or majorly lucked out" He tucked the suppressed M1911 into the side holster concealed in his jacket and picked up the syringe of tranquilizer "If he goes violent, I'll try to take him down with this first. Let's do this like professionals" Without another word, Slade slid open the van's door and started to walk towards the motel where the target was hiding out.

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Rick Markus groaned as he pulled himself to his feet, clutching his side. He had spent the last 18 hours tracking down a mafia courier who had gone rogue, little shit had put up a fight and forced Markus to kill him, not before seriously brusing a couple of ribs though. He was meant to be brought in alive, so his bosses could make an example of him. Now they were robbed of that pleasure and Rick had only been paid half his usual fee.
He poured himself a drink and rummaged around in his pocket for the wad of cash. He'd chuck it in one of his hiding places later, maybe take a bit and go to get some more rounds for his Colt Python, which was laid in its holster over on the room's desk, he didn't expect to need it anymore for a while, but it didn't hurt to be prepared. He sipped on the drink, which was helping to numb the pain and mindlessly clicked through the tv channels.
Then there was a knock on the door.

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"I don't expect it to be much trouble lads" Galen said to his comrades as the helicopter started it's descent "The boys have us a truck down there at the LZ, we pile in, drive over to where this Postan kid is, and pick him up, I doubt there'll be much trouble, but if he's hooked up to a group of any kind, we may have to move with plan B"

[j8cob]

Slade made it quick and clear what the objective was. Simple. Any one of them could probably do it by themselves. But it must be better to have three badasses run it. Sergei nodded his head and followed Slade out of the van. "I understand ze orders," he said, if his nod wasn't clear enough. Really, it probably served to just better his English skills. As the group approached the motel room, Sergei positioned himself in front of the door. Should this guy not open up, Sergei would more than easily take that door down and anyone on the other side. And keep going. He held his pistol in his hand, as puny as it seemed in comparison, and his rifle slung over his back. It would be unlikely he'd need it right now. The hard part of the mission was supposed to be if they encountered resistance on their way to the target. Not after.

[Mister Frost]

Alan smirked a little, at the words of his, well he didn't know what to call the man. His 'handler' worked the best, since the guy wasn't really a commanding officer in any sense, mostly because the agency didn't do 'officers'. Still he was the guy in-charge, and he gave the orders so ... he was 'the superior'. Though 'Superior Galen' sounded rather communist Russian, it probably wasn't something you'd want to call the man.

"This plan is just asking for trouble." Alan but in, this wasn't a 'cake walk' like it was meant to be, since their was no such thing as a cake walk. "We can't just drive up to his little hide-away, at least not with out first spooking him. How about in stead we try something which doesn't get us, or our ever friendly HVT killed? Like let's do some flanking and diversion. Since I don't do diversion very good - I'll be our flankee. From my personal experience, I find people tend to be all the more more suggestive, when they have the barrel of a gun pointed at their head, well most of the time that is."

Alan was aware he was stepping over his boundaries here, but he wasn't prepared to see someone kill hurt, because Superior Galen underestimated this guy.

[Crossfire]

"We don't know what state he's in mate, it appears even the agency has its limits" Galen said "In an ideal world, we could just stroll up to the lad and take him in diplomatically, or however ya like. But he's been on the lam for the while, makes a bloke paranoid, or so the docs tell me" He chuckled at his joke "We have an hour or so to finalize this plan of ours, I promise you mate, this'll go smoothly"

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"Step back Sergei, I want to try to do this the diplomatic way" Slade said as he straightened his tie "All the same though, you should flank around to the back, see if there's a window around. Both of you prepare to move to plan B if this gets violent" He reached out and rapped on the door. A few moments of silence later, he heard movement and the door scraped open to reveal a scraggly looking man. He was unshaven, and his eyes were slightly out of focus. He wore a stained t-shirt and jeans that looked well lived-in.
"Hello. Can I help you?" He said groggily.
"Detective Sam Russell" Slade drawled as he produced a badge "Sorry to disturb you, but we received a call a little while ago about a domestic dispute just a few doors down, I'm collecting statements for the records"
"I won't be of much use to you sir, I only just got back here" Rick said
"All the same sir, anything at all could help. Do you mind?"
"I suppose not" Rick stepped back to allow Slade entry.