After breaking off from Anna, Meifeng figured that she would, you know, go find her friends... She stood dead in her tracks, eyes wide open like a deer in headlights. "Fuck!" She loudly sweared. She totally forgotten about Jen! The fight, meeting her cousins, and Anna, made her forget why she was in the wrong place at the wrong time to begin with. She loudly slapped her forehead, and shook her head from left to right. "God, I'm a terrible friend..." She moaned underneath her breath. She has to fix this, she had no choice but to. She wouldn't be able to sleep easy tonight. Just find Jen... before she gets gangraped in her drunken stupor. She hoped that she could find Jen before anything bad happens. Meifeng quickly started walking, wading through the crowds of people. Christ, it'd be pretty hard to find Jen in a crowd like this. The first door she saw, she opened it, to see a guy making out with some girl. They exchanged glances before Meifeng closed the door, moved onto the next room, opened it, found something similar, then closed it. Christ, everything seemed like fun and games until it came time to deal with the consequences. All she wanted to do now was head home.
Racing around a corner, Meifeng slammed into another person headfirst (Who felt much more soft than usual). Meifeng put her hands on her face, before taking a few steps back. "Sorry!" She said, before she opened her eyes to see a tall woman... that was the first thing she saw that was wrong. It was a woman in a party full of kids. What was she up to here? She was tall, had curly burgundy hair, a face full of freckles, and wore a red dress shirt, a tan skirt, had glasses... and just dressed like a teacher.
"Oh, sorry, there!" The woman said in a sing-song. "Didn't notice you!"
"Yeah.... yeah..." Meifeng scratched the back of her neck looking away slightly - hoping that she'd find Jen. Before she turned right towards the woman, putting her hands onto her hips, and giving her a narrow look, "Hey, who are you? You don't look like the type that'd be here?" Meifeng probed - because this woman set something off. She was probably here ready to bust them... but, she didn't look like a disappointed or disgusted parent at all.
"Oh me? I'm Megan. Megan Jervious, please don't beat me up like you did those other girls." The woman - now introduced as Megan - answered with an odd smile, but that just made Meifeng even more suspicious. "Ah, yes, I'm looking for my daughter, Jaime. That rascal came here without my permission, and if you'd excuse me, I'd find her in no time..." Megan started walking off to the side.
Okay, that made a bit of sense. Though, she looked about her mid-twenties. Unless some really bad decisions were made, she wouldn't have a kid. Meifeng started tapping her foot on the ground. "... You look mighty young to have a daughter... unless you're talking about a toddler here." Meifeng was very quick to retort, crossing her arms, and looking up at the woman.
Megan jolted, stopping in her tracks. Like she didn't expect Meifeng to press on about it. Megan turned her head off to the side. "... I... adopted her, yeah, of course! I still love her like my own kin...." She quickly came up with the answer, but Meifeng wasn't convinced. "Know what, darling? Just go with it!" Megan moaned. "Why did I get the nosy Sherlock Holmes wanna-be out of all the drunk and stupid kids here?! Word of advice, just drop it. I'll be out in no time! You'll only end up in something you won't like." Megan nodded her head as she turned straight, then quickly ran down the hallway, and turned down a corner and dove into a room.
"... Wait! Just who are you?" Meifeng barked as she dove down the hallway after the woman. Like hell she was going to let this crazy broad walk around - doing God knows what. Once Meifeng opened the door, she saw that it was... empty! Just a dark dressing room. This doesn't make sense; the woman couldn't have gotten away that fast. She flicked the lights on, and... nothing. She looked around some more, and still didn't find a thing. Like the woman disappeared into thin air. Meifeng shook her head as she slammed the door closed.
Okay, it was official: the freak show has arrived. Meifeng needed to find Jen, then tell Taylor about this.
Meifeng turned around, then tried to run back to where she last saw Taylor.
Ratchet seemed to be taking it well. So that was good. It made Jen sigh in relief as she shook her head. "Yeah... that is what we need...." Jenny moaned as Ratchet mentioned a Meta-rights movement. Which, she doubted would end well. Honestly, Jen was no politician, no soldier... no one that would induce change. She just wants a simple life, that's all. And becoming a Metahuman... now, that just throws a wrench in her plans. "Thanks for being so understanding," Jennifer started off, "And I mean it." Despite thanking Ratchet, she had to be honest. Really honest. She leaned up against the railing, crossing her arms over her stomach, and lowering her head - staring at the balcony floor. "I'm going to level with you here, though. I... never wanted to be a Metahuman. I'm not a superhero, and I don't want to be - I just want a normal life."She looked up at Ratchet with her blue eyes, "Can you keep this a secret - our secret?" Jennifer said.
Though, Ratchet decided to comment on the fight, which made Jennifer tighten up her grip over her stomach. She would rather ignore the fight... She doesn't like violence, but it's all around her. It was best to just turn a blind eye and deal with it. Ratchet peaked inside, and saw the fight for all it's glory. She came out, and mentioned that it was Meifeng who was getting into the fight. Good God, that girl doesn't know how to act sometimes. It's amazing she's not in jail yet. Jennifer let out a sigh. "Ahhhh... figures." Jennifer muttered under her breath. And, apparently, Meifeng's assault charge would have indecent exposure added onto it. God.
When Ratchet asked if they should go inside already, Jen spoke, "I think we should just-" She was cut off, not by a person, but a bird. A big bird, specifically a turkey vulture, landing on the railing directly next to her. Jennifer raised a blonde eyebrow as she slowly got off the railing - trying her damn near hardest not to upset the thing. The vulture looked at Jennifer, and loudly cawed. "Nice birdie... I'm just walking away...." Oh god, she hoped it didn't attack. The vulture cawed again, before spreading it's wings, and flying off. Jen took a few steps forward, and watched the bird fly off, "... I don't think that's bird behavior."
She caught a glimpse of a tall, and imposing figure walking away, stepping in between buildings. She didn't get a good enough look due to the darkness... but, whoever it was, it was big.
Loudly gulping, Jennifer took a step back, and decided that maybe it'd be best if they just get out of here. Before the birdpocalypse begins. She clawed her way through the balcony doors, and was back into the party. The smell of alcohol, and wasted youth, filled her nose instantly. She put her hand on Ratchet's shoulder, "Hey, let's go find Meifeng."
While Baron accepting her offer made, Baron must really want those undercover Agents. The whole display with his sniper conveyed his message very well. Lihua didn't want any friendly fire incidents - at least, not when she can avoid it. "... I'll make the call." She acknowledged Baron's request. Lihua didn't like that she was playing into his game, but there was nothing to lose here - nothing she could lose, at least. Right when Lihua turned back to request the distribution of the undercover Agents, Baron asked if there were any Agents out on the field combating the Fiends currently. Hm, Lihua turned sidways to Baron. "KINGFISHER Agents FALCON and NIGHTINGALE - whom I've just given some relevant information - are currently undergoing a mission in the Chinatown district." She crossed her arms, and leaned slightly up against her desk. "I... don't see why your partners should be barred from assisting."
Baron, before leaving, stated that he had a sniper and a tactician in his team. Grit being a sniper was clear as day given the sniper hanging off his back. Caesar's position was impossible to tell unless she was told beforehand. But it did tell her that she may have mistaken Baron for the "team leader". All signs were pointing at Baron, given how he was talking. Given what talking he has done, Lihua got the impression that he wasn't too good of a talker. Baron absconded, with the files that Lihua gave him (and little did she now, the files she didn't), she nodded her head as a quiet way of saying goodbye... Until he poked his head back in and said that Baron Moreau wasn't his real name. Hm? Does that mean that the Director gave Lihua the wrong information, or that she was to refer to him by codename? Or was he just screwing with her? As she thought about it, she realized that she was (rather awkwardly) standing here with his compatriots. Putting a fist to her mouth to feign a cough, she acknowledged them, "It is great to meet both of you. I hope to work together in the future." She quickly took a few steps backwards and sat down on the computer chair, and put her headset back on.
"Patch me through to the Director." Lihua spoke into the headset, speaking to an operator. Usually, the Director calls Lihua, but since the Dreadnaughts wanted to get to work right away....
After a few moments, the Director's voice could be heard through the headset. "Director Caryl speaking."
"This is Agent Vuhong speaking - I am requesting permission to disclose Undercover Agents to the Dreadnaughts."
"You may."
"Thank you, Director. Agent Vuhong out." With a simple press of her button, the call was complete.
On cue, Lihua turned the chair back towards her computer and began typing away with lightning fast fingers. It wasn't long before the printer slid out the first profile. Then the next one, then the next one... and so on. She quickly grabbed an empty folder from her desk's cabinet, and placed them all together neatly into one large file for the famed Dreadnaughts to read. She handed it to Isiah with both hands. "Here you go." She said, "Now, I have much work to do. If you need anything else, you know who to call."
@Mr Allen J "I'm going to level with you here, though. I... never wanted to be a Metahuman. I'm not a superhero, and I don't want to be - I just want a normal life." She looked up at Ratchet with her blue eyes, "Can you keep this a secret - our secret?" Jennifer asked.
Ratchet smirked. "Of course, Jen. I think you've got every right to keep it to yourself especially with Meta Gestapo running around."
Ratchet, upon returning from the doorway, saw the vulture descend from the night and perch eerily next to Jen. W.T.F.? she thought. The bird let out a screech, before flying off, as Jen backed away from the railing.
Jen accompanied Ratchet back into the house.
"Some metahumans do live normal lives, you know," Ratchet said as she contemplated drawing her notepad from her tool belt. "Of course, they might use their powers to go about their business."
As Ratchet unflipped the latch to her pouch using the edge of her wheel-hand, she explained, "For instance, in my dad's auto shop, I sometimes use my power to move, like, engine blocks and dollies and stuff." Ratchet winced a bit. "Oh, sorry, I haven't told you about my ability, haven't I," she muttered. "If that came as a bit of a shock, I apologize... To put it simply, I'm a mover. I move things using a transfer of kinetic energy."
Ratchet absently pulled out her notepad and flipped to a blank page, sitting on the couch. "Uh, but anyway, I do sometimes get the stink-eye back in Pennsylvania from people who, you know, don't like metahumans, but thankfully I don't have to be in close contact with them in the shop," she continued. "That being said, I still think it's possible to live a normal life, even with the metahuman powers thrown in."
Ratchet began doing gesture studies on the drunk folk, before looking up at Jennifer. She then looked around. "I don't see Meifeng," Ratchet said.
@Mr Allen J@MaxxKINGFISHER agents, eh? Washe was briefed about NEST and some of the finer details, perhaps more in-depth than the others. At least, certainly more in-depth than Grit. NEST is a government sanctioned agency with its own fair share of secrets. However, even NEST has a branch more ambiguous than itself: the KINGFISHER agents. Supposedly, they are top-of-the-line agents, the best that NEST as a whole had to offer. On par with Navy SEALS, so on and so forth. This opportunity could give Washe the time desired to inspect the agents and watch them work, then review their portfolio later and determine what kind of firepower NEST was really packing. He wasn't no fool, though – he was once a marine, led several of his own missions. But Washe wasn't just a marine, no; he's a Dreadnaught, and his company makes SOG look like a bull in a china shop.
Agent Vuhong broke the silence, however. “It is great to meet both of you,” she said, “I hope to work together in the future.”
Grit beamed in response. “Absolutely, miss! If ya ever need someone to drop some bodies, you know where--”
“I wouldn't count on it.” Washe forwardly interrupted, barely taking care to honey his words. “If I think I can use one of y'all in one of our operations, then I'll utilize y'all. Otherwise, I prefer to do things quickly and quietly... assumin' we can keep this one's trap shut.”
Grit crossed his arms and shot Wasge a look of indignation. “That was uncalled for, Caesar.”
Washe, however, would have none of that. Looking out the corner of his eyes, he gently tipped up his sunglasses as his pupils bore into the young sniper's. A corner of his lip was raised, giving him the appearance of snarling bulldog. His face was already flushed red. He snapped at Grit, “are you gonna screw your head on right, or am I gonna have to do it for ya?”
There was something about the delivery of his words that seemed to inspire a sort of primal fear and the belief that he would, without hesitation, back up his words with every ounce of rage that was fueling him. Grit, in response, put up his hands between him and Washe, and began walking back further from him, daring not make eye contact.
Agent Vuhong offering the documents helped to soothe the tension in the room. A folder comprised of the undercover agents that NEST has employed was handed to him, and like Baron, Washe took them from her hand with care. However, unlike him, he opened it up to take a glimpse at the contents to confirm them, and then slapped it shut without a second look.
“Now, I have much work to do. If you need anything else, you know who to call.” Said the agent.
“Nope,” Washe said somewhat dismissively as he turned around and began marching down the lobby, “your role in this should be just about done. Grit. Grit! Get outside, we should have a ride waitin' for us. Go patch Maria in and everything should take care of itself from there.”
Grit fired off a casual salute in Lihua's direction before jogging up from behind and then past Washe, opening the glass doors. “Aye aye, sir!”
“Quit your fucking fooling, moron.”
With that, the Dreadnaughts had gone as quickly as they came, leave alone the agent in the lobby with the glass door closing behind them. Washe entered a black Sprinter on the driver's side door and Grit had climbed in through the back doors. With a rev of their engine, they pulled out of the driveway, finally out of the NEST agent's field of vision.
Washe drove south, and meanwhile, Grit was in the back punching in some buttons for a set of coordinates. The van itself was quite the piece of work – spacious and full of gadgets and monitors. Up by the dashboard, Washe had access to all sorts of toys that allowed him to connect to a multitude of radio channels and switches that controlled some of the mechanics of the vehicle. In the back, where Grit was, gun racks, trunks, monitors, headsets – this one van was practically all they needed for their entire stay in Verthaven, although it isn't recommended. All the while, the interior was lined with armored plates and maintained an inconspicuous exterior, making them look like little more than a civilian passenger vehicle. After enough of Grit's tampering, the noise of a woman's voice crackled into life over the radio. “Hello boys, good to hear from you.”
“Channel one is on! Nice ta' hear from you too, Mars.” Grit cooed. Among the Dreadnaughts, Grit and Washe were often the ones to talk with Maria the most. Grit, while he often had another person where they watched each other's backs, it made sense with him being a talkative bastard, but also Maria was their set of eagle eyes watching over the whole region. Washe was a given, requiring constant feedback should any unexpected problems come along that would comprise their strategy.
“Establishing a secured channel... and done. No one can hear us, now.” Maria confirmed. “I'm loading satellite imagery now, and I'll patch it in to you guys momentarily.”
A small screen by the dashboard flashed what appeared to be a GPS screen. The exception was that it showed a real time feed of their area, with a camera focused on their vehicle, which showed as bright green.
“Maria,” Washe barked, “highlight this city's Chinatown district for me.”
“I have you covered.” She replied. A low opacity yellow highlighted an area on the screen. Washe still had a couple miles ago and a bridge across before he got onto the next isle, much to his frustration. Damn Baron for volunteering them for whatever shenanigans NEST was up to! This Long Dragon person ought to be there, and not waste their time.
“Are there any active channels in that area?” Washe asked.
“As a matter of fact,” Maria began, “there are a couple. Though one stands out more than the others, and there are other connections to the channel stemming from the NEST headquarters.”
“That's the one then.” Washe grumbled. “Patch that in to the boat, link it with channel two.”
“Geez, these NEST guys sure make it easy for us, huh?” Grit bragged. “I expected them to be a little more... more.”
“Don't get so cocky!” Washe spat. “We don't even know what they're up to yet.”
“I can't believe I'm admitting this,” Maria interjected, “but I think I agree with Grit. It might just be that they're a government agency and aren't expecting anybody to eavesdrop, but it's also because they're a government agency that I'm curious why they aren't taking top measures to maintain security of their communication.”
“Maybe we're just too good.” Grit mused.
“Okay, okay, I had enough of this.” Washe sighed. He grabbed the hand-microphone for the vehicle's PA system and switched over to channel two, where presumably the KINGFISHER agents FALCON and NIGHTINGALE were on.
“Coming in; this is Caesar speaking, requesting confirmation on all channel participants. Again I say, this is Caesar speaking. Requesting confirmation on all channel participants – over!”
"God dammit, Lihua," Sam said into his earpiece. "I told you to keep out of my files." He sighed and crushed what was left of his cigar against a wall. Nightingale was here now. He wondered if she felt as terrified as he did not wearing armor. "We'll make our way over there now." He switched the comms off and nodded to Nightingale to follow him close. He felt for his gun once more and walked down the street, trying not to look overly-suspicious. He put his hood up to shade his eyes and started walking towards Chinatown.
Once he arrived at Apple Avenue, another voice came over his comms.
“Coming in; this is Caesar speaking, requesting confirmation on all channel participants. Again I say, this is Caesar speaking. Requesting confirmation on all channel participants – over!”
This was very odd. Sam didn't know of anyone in the agency who went by the callsign of Caesar. Hopefully it was Lihua being a bitch. He hoped it wasn't a hack. He ducked into an alley and mouthed the words "cover me" to Nightingale.
"Caesar, this is a secure NEST radio channel," Sam said "Unidentified users are prohibited by penalty of law. Identify yourself- over!"
@MaxxThere was a brief moment of silence in the vehicle, after Washe had announced himself on the NEST channel. Soon enough, however, someone on the other side broke that silence.
“Caesar,” the voice said, “this is a secure NEST radio channel. Unidentified users are prohibited by penalty of law. Identify yourself – over!”
Grit scooted over a little further in the back and was scratching the back of his head nervously, knowing what was coming next. On the bright side, at least they found out that Washe was on the right channel.
“Fucking IDENTIFY myself?!” Washe roared in a rage-filled tantrum. His booming voice drowned everything else in the car, and deafening to its other occupant. This fit of anger inadvertently caused the van to lurch forward as his foot pressed the gas pedal harder. The presumed KINGFISHER agent was fortunately spared from his ear being blasted by the assailing thunder. “Well just what the FUCKING SHIT do you think I just fucking did, dipshit! Did his bitch of a mother shit him through the wrong fucking hole?!”
Washe ripped the intercom from the dash and stuck it close to his lips.
“Listen here, you fucking novice! This is the operations and logistics officer of the fucking Dreadnaughts. You're gonna sit your little bitch ass down and fucking call me Caesar, am I clear? Your God damn superiors including that Asian, Korean, or-what-fucking-ever bitch asked me for my help because you ass-lickers are apparently too busy jerking each other off to get any of y'all's shit done! They have made it my job to keep Darwinism from doing God's work by keeping your incompetent ass from fucking everything up and getting yourself killed, and to make sure one of their missions finally gets finished without any problems!
"Now you're gonna answer my fucking question, otherwise I'm gonna ask you to bring knee-pads and mouthwash by the time I get there: who the flying fuck are the participants of this channel? I am giving you ten seconds before I blast the whole God damn district in my attempt to ash you off the fucking face of this green Earth – and by God, don't you think I won't dare.”
Ratchet's a Metahuman, too? Jennifer... Jennifer never expected that - when she really should have. It all started making sense, with the awakening of her power that meant that she was attracted to them, and they were attracted to her. Ratchet, Taylor, Carole... maybe it did start with Meifeng. Maybe she caught a power from Meifeng - yeah, that makes perfect sense. Thank God it manifested when she was staring death in the face. "... Alright." Jennifer started off, looking back at Ratchet. "At this point, it's... not even a shock anymore." She started awkwardly laughing, scratching the back of her neck. Transfer of Kinetic Energy? That sounds pretty cool, actually. A far cooler power than Regenerator. Ratchet could help people that way. She came to a stop, as she realized something about the confrontation that took place earlier today, "... So, wait, if you can move things..." Jen trailed off, turning back to face Ratchet, "... Did you throw that bike at that psychopath?" She asked, thinking about how badly that fight could have gone made her shudder. Thank God that Meifeng changed her mind at the last second and everyone walked away.
Jennifer sighed, and kept walking. They... should find Meifeng and leave. Because, there isn't much more to say about the party. It's still wild and out of control as always. Jenny shook her head, and kept walking past them. Like they were never there in the first place. She just wasn't cut out for the party scene, being a girl who'd rather stay home and play a game or two to pass time rather than drinking, or banging. The thought of intercourse made Jenny shudder. She reached and adjusted her beret so that it's resting on top of her head. They proceeded back to the living room, and looked around. She didn't see Meifeng, or Taylor - not even the little friend that Taylor mentioned. She scratched the side of her head, and wondered where the hell Meifeng went. Suddenly, the music went dead, Taylor stormed into the room (Presumably after having a really sweaty and oily lesbian threesome with Carole and Reagan), looking less than pleased, and didn't hesitate to tell everyone what's got her so upset.
"... Quoi? Quoi? Sacre Bleu! où est mon putain de collier? Merde!Merde!Merde! Who stole my FUCKING jewelry box???" Taylor screamed (most of which in a language that no one understood) and everyone in the room looked at her.
"... The one full of your nipple piercings?" Meifeng giggled, as she walked up, with a confident grin on her face. Near the edges of the group, she stood with her arms crossed.
"IT HAD OVER TWELVE HUNDRED EUROS OF DIAMOND JEWELRY IN IT!" Taylor shouted at Meifeng.
"Taylor, Taylor, Taylor..." A disappointed sigh came off from the side. It came from Johnny Valos, who was pouring his cinnamon whiskey into a shot glass. His eyes were on what he was doing than Taylor. Once he was finished pouring, he put the whole bottle down, and began sipping, "Listen to me, girl; this is what the fuck happens when you invite every ugly muthafucka from the east to west coast. Someone gonna jack something." Johnny rolled his eyes. He seemed more annoyed than anything. "Now... I know for a fact that we have at LEAST three telepaths here. Just ask one of them to start readin' some minds for that big evil culprit."
Personally, Meifeng didn't quite understand why she threw a giant party and didn't have all her valuables secured. She shrugged. It's almost like she was asking to get robbed. While she just didn't wrap her head around all this, she had a personal theory. She took a few steps forward, getting closer to Taylor, until she was taking center stage. "Yo, there's some weird chick walking around here," Meifeng threw a thumb backwards. "I think she could be behind it."
What a delightful bunch, she hopes that they don't bother her. Well, the other two, Baron can bother Lihua all he wants.
Since her business was over, Lihua turned her attention back to the mission in Chinatown. She pressed a few buttons on her headset, and was right into the same frequency as the KINGFISHERS - acting as their defacto mission control. Whether they wanted her to or not, she would keep her eyes and ears open for danger, and alert them at the earliest possible opportunity. Save lives with information, just like her job description entails. She leaned forward, putting her elbows on the desk, and her chin onto her hands. Clarke voiced dissatisfaction with her viewing his file - likely as an invasion of privacy - Lihua couldn't help but smirk. "You're always free to view my file, Agent Clarke." She said with a chuckle - for literally no reason other than to screw with him.
It seems that the Dreadnaughts have gotten into position, and gladly accessed the comms.
“Coming in; this is Caesar speaking, requesting confirmation on all channel participants. Again I say, this is Caesar speaking. Requesting confirmation on all channel participants – over!”
"Caesar, this is a secure NEST radio channel," Sam said "Unidentified users are prohibited by penalty of law. Identify yourself- over!"
Which... gave way to one of the most unexpected, and unwarranted (and hilarious), outbursts that Lihua has ever encountered. The second his voice boomed with sheer anger, Lihua had to lift her headset off a bit. Lest her eardrums get blown out. And that was just the beginning. For about one minute, this man kept yelling, and yelling, and yelling. She was surprised she didn't hear a few pants for this buffoon to catch his breath. She reached down, and grabbed her coffee mug, drinking it. They put him IN-CHARGE? Good God, this is going to be a long night. Lihua thought to herself. She found it hard to laugh because the creeping realization that she has to work with this man overwritten any entertainment she could have gotten out of this. ... And I'm Chinese, you inbred hick. Lihua thought to herself - almost saying it out loud, using every once of her discipline to hold herself back,
Once Caesar's super effective team building exercise was over, Caesar asked for the channel's participants. Part of her wanted to remain quiet... but, she figured she best get this man's rant out of the way now. She reached into her desk, and pulled out a nail file, "Agent Vuhong here, I'm feeding information to the agents during this operation...." Lihua trailed off, "... I'll be silent unless I have any updates."
Well somebody had a dump taken in their Cheerios this morning, Sam thought. As Caesar, as he called himself, ranted and raved Sam clenched his fists and sighed aggressively. The guy said "Dreadnaughts", and Sam froze. Dreadnaughts, Dreadnaughts, where had he heard that before? He thought back to his days in Mendel, thinking that it might've meant something back then. Then it hit him; the Dreadnaughts were mercenaries, a PMC company out of the Aland Islands. Why was there a mercenary on his comms? What the hell was going on? Something was very wrong here. While Sam wanted to give this guy a thrashing, he was also in a way horrified. How did a hired gun get onto a secure channel. Luckily, Lihua cut in and prevented them from getting into the biggest comms fight in the history of NEST.
"Dreadnaughts?" Sam seethed in reply. "Like, the mercenaries? Jesus, Lihua! Who's idea was it to hire damn mercenaries to help us?! This is utterly ridiculous!" Sam looked over at Nightingale and gave her the cut sign, two fingers across the throat. There was no way he was going to take orders from this guy. "This is bullshit. Lihua, let NEST know that my team and I will not take orders from a hired gun, especially one who's immature enough to throw a damn temper tantrum over my communications system! Until I receive orders from elsewhere, I will not proceed any farther with the mission. If Director Caryl disagrees with this, I am sure that KINGFISHER EAGLE would be happy to talk to her about it himself." Sam leaned back against the wall and looked around. He hoped he hadn't been too loud about it. If his cover was blown in this neighborhood, there would be hell to pay.
PLAGUE
Meanwhile, in the Iron District, a manhole popped up in an intersection of a dark alley. From the manhole came Plague, a black duffel bag slung over his shoulder and a gun stuck in his waistband. Roark followed close behind. He carried with him a flashlight and a submachine gun. Once reaching the surface, Plague looked around to see if anyone was coming. Then he opened the duffel bag, took off his mask, and stowed his gun inside. Roark did the same. Then he handed the bag to Roark and they walked out onto the street, looking like two completely normal citizens, albeit rough ones. Doing this made travel much easier, as no one was sure what either of them looked like without masks on. They easily slipped through the streets, avoiding police officers and weaving through back alleys when things looked suspicious. In one alley, a group of men tried to mug them; they would never be heard from again.
It wasn't long before they came to an abandoned power plant near the center of the district. They walked around the rusted building until they reached a barbed chainlink fence. Looking to make sure that they weren't being followed they slid through a gap in the fence and walked up to a back entrance hidden behind a row of old shipping crates. At this point, they put their masks back on. The guards standing at the door parted at the sight of the Fiend lieutenant and he walked in unabated.
"Let Khan know that I am here to see her," he said to one of them. He nodded and rushed off.
Santiago Woods
It was a fairly standard day for Verthaven's greatest jewel thief. He awoke in his crummy apartment in Union Point Hills around noon and ate a ham sandwich to take care of his dying hunger. He wistfully wandered around the small room for most of the daytime, playing video games on his abnormally-large flatscreen, watching porn on his computer, and caring for his very expensive New Caledonian Giant Gecko. Then, when night came, he slipped out and took a walk in the streetlights. It was hard looking unsuspicious with a giant reptile snout and tail, but he tried his best and the streets were relatively empty. He decided this night to take a trip to Knightdale Rows. As all criminals usually did, he took the sewers over. On the way, he passed a scuffle of sorts involving the Fiends, but his chromatophores allowed him to slip past easily; Fiends never looked up, you see.
Reaching Knightdale Rows, Santiago climbed the brick walls of a row house and began to climb across the walls in back alleys, looking carefully in windows to see if there was anything worth stealing. He passed a few empty rooms, a family having dinner ("Look, mommy! It's a dinosaur!" one little boy cried out), an old couple arguing, two teenagers having sex (boy did they get a surprise), and a few men huddled in front of their computers with their pants down. Nothing unusual. He was sitting camouflaged against a brick wall, wondering what he would do with the rest of his evening if he had nothing to steal. Then he heard shouts from nearby. He ran along the walls on all fours and jumped down into the backyard of a large beach house, where there was a party being held. Intrigued, he climbed the walls and slipped inside of a window into a very poshly-decorated room. Jackpot, he thought. Immediately he began to rifle through drawers, looking for expensive-looking jewelry and stuffing it into his knapsack. He found a beautiful white jewelry box sitting on the vanity in the corner and, rifling through it, discovered that it had an exceptionally-large amount of diamonds in it. Snickering to himself, he placed it in his sack and, not wanting to press his luck any further, slipped back out of the window. As he left, the door opened behind him He climbed to the roof and blended back in, waiting for them to discover it. It wasn't long until:
"... Quoi? Quoi? Sacre Bleu! où est mon putain de collier? Merde! Merde! Merde!" Well damn! Santiago had to try hard to keep from laughing. The voices sounded drunk, though, and he didn't feel as if he had anything to fear. He snuggled down on the roof and prepared to listen to the hilarity unfold.
Taylor Pierpoint and Carole Elias
This party had gotten out of hand. People were running amok, booze was everywhere, Carole was walking around naked, and now there was fighting. Taylor sighed and left the room, leaving other people to break the fight up. She was too drunk to care and was at her wit's end. At this point, she regretted having ever thrown this party. She went to her room to take a break from the raving, and plopped down on her bed, her chest heaving. She heard voices from down the hall, and Eli walked into her room.
"Taylor, this party has gotten out of control," he said. "There's people fighting downstairs and most of your bedrooms are filled."
"I kno," Taylor sighed drunkenly. "I don't...don't know whut to do. I cna't just kick them all out, cnI?"
"I don't know what you should do, my friend, but I do know that this isn't the place that I should be right now, so I'm leaving. I haven't had anything to drink, so I'll be alright getting home. I wish you the best of luck. It was nice seeing you again."
"Oh Eli," Taylor replied. "I feel afwul abuot all of this! Maybe we can mete fer lunch tomorrrrrrow?" Eli smiled.
"I'll see what I can do," he replied, smiling. Then he tossed Taylor a water bottle from off of her dresser, walked down the steps, and left the house. It was then that Taylor realized that her jewelry was missing.
"... Quoi? Quoi? Sacre Bleu! où est mon putain de collier? Merde!Merde!Merde! Who stole my FUCKING jewelry box???" She stormed out of the room and ran down the stairs, falling as she reached the bottom and hitting the floor hard.
"WHO STOLE MY FUCKING JEWELRY BOX?" she screamed.
"... The one full of your nipple piercings?" Meifeng giggled.
"IT HAD OVER TWELVE THOUSAND EUROS OF DIAMOND JEWELRY IN IT!" she screamed back. Johnny intervened.
"Well go get them then!" she shouted. "Nobody leaves the damn house until I find it! Where is Jasmine and her weirdo friend?"
"Pretty sure she's in bed with her girlfriend," Neal said from the hallway.
"No, I'm right here," Jasmine Chang walked down the steps somewhat clumsier than usual. Her clothing was messed up and the top three buttons of her blouse were undone, and her trench coat was nowhere to be found. "I'll look around and see if I can find anything on your box. In the meanwhile, get me coffee."
"Get it yourself!" Taylor barked back.
"Can't I'm busy sorry please leave a message after the beep. Now if you want your necklace found you'll bring me that coffee. Without it, the alcohol in my system will prevent me from using my abilities." Taylor grumbled and stumbled off to the kitchen to find coffee (well, get a sober servant to get it for her). Jasmine walked back upstairs and leaned against the wall, trying to stop the walls from spinning. Carole walked up to her, still in her underwear.
"H-hy," Carole muttered "Wahtsoup nyerdd?" Jasmine rolled her eyes. Carole got uncomfortably close to her. "I nyvr nuticzed houw qte u r." Jasmine could smell the alcohol in her breath. A foreign hand was uncomfortably close to her breast. In one fluid motion, Jasmine punched Carole in the face and swept her legs out from under her. She shouted and crumbled to the floor. Jasmine lifted her up and half-drug her back to her room. Claire stuck her head out of the room she was...occupying and looked at the two of them quizzically.
"She fell," Jasmine said. Claire nodded and went back inside.
Taylor is hella distraught over losing her jewelry - and it wasn't just the screaming that told her that. Still makes Meifeng wonder why the hell she didn't have that shit in lock down. Meifeng absentmindedly shrugged, with her eyes closed. She briefly mused about the dumb blonde sterotype as she rolled her eyes upon realizing that nobody even acknowledged her warning that there was a weird bitch walking around. Ugh. Meifeng just shook her head. Well, if they're not going to listen, then it's on them. Meifeng's going to enjoy this party for all it's worth! Night's young, baby! Though, it was hard to ignore the biting pain of getting hit in the gut with a bottle... or nearly getting her eyes clawed out. Stung, and was mighty distracting.... That meant that Meifeng just needed a distraction from the pain, of course.
... And maybe some bandaids.
Definitely some bandaids. At this point, Taylor was talking to some tacky pimp looking motherfucker, and ordered some girl, a fellow Asian girl that looked like she was trying waaaay too hard to pin that detective look down, to look for the jewelry. Meifeng wanted to offer her services. Despite her irritation, there was no way she was going to stand by while everyone worked tirelessly like some lazy bum. She needed to contribute! Meifeng looked over to Taylor, and nodded.
If only she knew where to actually start. It didn't take a genius to realize that Taylor didn't ask for that girl's help for no reason. She'd have to have some sort of special skill. Meifeng wasted no time in going after her, following her up the stairs at least twelve steps behind. Up until she heard a peculiar shout, she was going an average walking speed (for her). Of course, she started going a little faster until she was in the same hallway as this "Jasmine". Dragging some girl.... Wait, after looking a bit closely, Meifeng recognized .
"Yo, what happened to her?" Meifeng asked Jasmine.
Johnny, Jake, Gabe, Sylvia, Lin & Mika
"Is it my shit that's missing?" Johnny was very quick to snap back at Taylor, in a very mocking tone. He put the bottle of fireball down, and leaned up against a table, placing his hand on it. He took one sip, and answered his own question, "No." He grinned. Maaaan, if Taylor loses something, that's her own damn fault. She shouldn't be ordering everyone around, like they're her lacky, trying to get it back (That's his job!). Because, chances are, the thieving motherfucker is probably miles away by now, and she expects his roach ass to stick around in this climate (Thirty metahumans in one place, hello)? Worst of all, Taylor put that nutjob Jasmine on the case. Doesn't she know that that Chinatown bitch did in the cafe? Aw, it was a slaughter.
Johnny just rolled his eyes, and said, "Oh yes, let's just put her in charge." Johnny grimaced at the change of events. "That can't end well."
Know what? Johnny was just about ready to take matters into his own hands... and by his own hands, he meant it was about time that he gathered the good old Valos family and get to the bottom of this. Can't leave out the fam, can he? He put down the alcohol, and began walking down the hallway. First destination; he walked up to a particular room, pulled the knob open - but left it slightly ajar. He slammed his fist on the door, and threw the door open... to reveal Jake and Lin passionately making out on a bed (Jake was missing his vest!).
"Hey!" "Oh!"
They shouted, in near unison.
"Time to stop humping!" Johnny shouted into the room, "Our services are required, if you don't mind coming with me."
"... Asshole." Jake muttered as Johnny walked off.
Next destination, the pool! Johnny walked all the way up to the roof, and saw Sylvia precariously sitting on the railing, playing the guitar. As she usually is - that girl don't do fucking anything else. All that was required to get her attention was a whistle, to which made Sylvia stop playing, look over to Johnny, and slide off the railing, and follow after him.
After that, Johnny went to the bathroom, and the next one, and the next one...
"God damn, where is she?!" He slammed his foot on the ground.
Lin, guided by her telepathic abilities, pointed down the hall. "If you're looking for Gabe, then she's down there."
"Thanks." Johnny said with a smile, as he tapped his way down the hallway, towards the bathroom. He slowly slid it open, to see Gabe with her face in the toilet. Oi! Looks like she had one too many! He grinned, he kicked the door open, and the boom echoed through the house as it hit the wall at high speeds.
"Jesus Christ, what the fuck?!" Gabriela loudly shouted, jolting.
"Guess, what!?" Johnny said, sarcastically doing jazz hands with a stupid grin on his face. ".... Yo' drunk ass is actually needed for something! So get the hell out of that toilet!"
".... Uggggh, fuck you." Gabe loudly groaned pushed herself up with her arms, and joined their group. Incredibly intoxicated.
As one big merry band, the group assembled in the living room with the rest of the group - with Johnny standing before them. With a confident smirk on his face.
"... Alright, what the fuck do we do?" Johnny asked, dumbfounded as everyone else. "I'm honestly at a loss."
"... Might I interject?" Mika said, sitting not too far away.
Johnny turned to face her, and saw her sitting her giant ass down, drinking some tea. Of all things, tea. In a party. No wonder this girl can't get no dick! Johnny put up his hand, and interjected "No, Mika. No one likes you."
"Johnny!" Jake step up and said to his brother, for being unnecessarily assholish. Lin didn't seem too pleased either.
"By all means, you seem to be competent enough to find the culprit all on your own." Mika was quick to softly reply. "You have so many leads - especially the one on the roof - I'd just be intruding at this point."
"Yeah, we got this cover..." He quickly thought about it. "What do you mean, "especially the one on the roof" you cryptic..." Johnny was about to put an insult at the end, but Jake was nearby.
@MaxxGrit, in the back, could only bury his face further and further into his hands the more Sam talked back on the comlink. Blood, rage, and steam were all rushing to Washe's head, filling up his face until he felt damn near ill from it. Then, Washe took a great breath and slowly but steadily breathed it all out in one big, heavy sigh. He nudged his sunglasses, prompting them to fall into place over his eyes. He made a glance over at the satellite live-feed on the screen beside him, showing he was just about a mile from their destination.
Grit looked up, and felt a twinge of sympathy for the KINGFISHER agent. Only a twinge, though – the man was a stranger, and decided to give lip to Washe of all people. Did he have a death wish? Washe was the scariest guy Grit knew; when he was pissed, you could feel it radiating off onto every other soldier on the mission. But that was just the fringe; when you were the target of his abuse, it didn't matter how defiant you were beforehand, it was all replaced with complacency. “Yes sir” replaced all other words in your mouth. But even more worrying was when the man fell silent. Grit knew the old man better than almost anybody, he was often on the receiving end of his yelling. His silence was nothing more than a shroud amidst which a violent storm may brew. FALCON was just so lucky that he was probably in his forties, wasn't Washe's subordinate, and didn't have to be Washe's target face-to-face and only heard his voice over the comlink.
“Bullshit, eh?” Washe grumbled, outside of the agent's channel and range of hearing. “You want bullshit? I go and introduce myself as fucking Caesar on his faggoty-ass channel, and the dolt still asks for identification. No wonder this city is going down the fucking shitter, their fucking elite units ain't got deductive skills worth shit. And immature? Heh, the prick hasn't been in the military, has he? Fucker would get his fuckin' lights knocked out for insubordination like that. If your high-command issues you a commander, you fuckin' deal with it. Little pansy bitch could only slow us down.”
“Yeah... a real piece of work.” Grit agreed hesitantly.
There was definitely some scary trouble brewing. They had the records and names of undercover agents and everything – and the Dreadnaughts are able to get away with quite a bit. Letting him be aware they know where he lives is nothing. But Washe doesn't take his revenge halfway.
Grit jumped from his seat and reached towards the front, grabbing the microphone that was attached to the to the radio unit, warranting a nasty glare from Washe.
“And just what the fuck do you think you're doing?” He spat.
“Hey, hey, hey, come on! Just let me see if I can talk him down and recover everythin', alright?” Grit said in his attempt to assuage his commander.
“You mean talk him to death, right? As delightful as that sounds, fuck off. I doubt that even Baron rubbing off is enough to fix the likes of you.”
Grit rolled his eyes and held onto the button on the microphone.
“Heeellloooo, KINGFISHER agents! This here is Danny Grit of the Dreadnaughts speaking! Y'all wanna make this interestin'? Let me apologize for my partner here then, a'right? If you're willing to work with me and a volatile stick of a dynamite, then I promise we're gonna have one hell of a time!”
He looked smugly at Washe, who glaring at Grit from the corner of his eye, and drew back.
“And hey, Caesar's a scary dude, but I promise the ol' dog ain't all bark. We'll make the experience worthwhile for y'all.”
"Guilty," Ratchet said with a shrug and a smirk. "I don't like fightin' words, especially not from The Lizard. Normally, I use my kinetokinesis for things more practical than kicking arse."
To be completely honest, Ratchet would rather be at home. Weren't parties supposed to be fun? There wasn't much talking outside of the erotic exclamations of pleasure and the addled ramblings of the hopelessly drunk.
However, upon hearing Taylor's cries of outrage, Ratchet knew that coming to this place was an outright mistake. I oughta be asleep right now, Ratchet thought.
"Oh, boy, we have to deal with this Scooby-Doo Hanna-Barbara hubbub," Ratchet muttered. "I mean, I understand that jewelry is valuable and stuff, but wouldn't that warrant a bit more security?"
Ratchet sighed. "Jen, I would take off, but I'm afraid that the other would think I made off with the jewelry box. God, I totally screwed up coming here; at least this Hercule Poirot garbage'll make the night interesting."
Ratchet adjusted her tool belt and approached Taylor. "Alright, where did you last see this thing? I figure the crime scene is a good place as any to start the 'you-meddling-kids' stuff."
Ratchet thought she would head home after the whole missing-jewelry-box fiasco was over. After all, she was going to watch Inside Out with Kate the next morning. Might as well enjoy the last day before her death from boredom at the wedding the day after. Maybe she could sneak her 3DS into the chapel. I could have practiced my show music, too, Ratchet thought.
Meifeng wasted no time in jumping back into the party's swing. Anna, however, wasn't feeling it. The electric atmosphere was lost. The mood had shifted to a languid, murky lull, matching the addled stupor most partygoers had fallen into. The party was in decline, but she was too caught up in her own mind to notice. She felt it when she stepped out of the bedroom, but it was little more than a passing thought.
Anna was conflicted. The idea of being metahuman did sit well with her. It stole much of her "party hard" spirit. She wandered about aimlessly, looking as out of it as the much less sober guests. By the time, she reigned in the dizzying stream of thoughts, she had stumbled into another large common area. So many faces she didn't recognize. A few making out, others smoking and laughing. Anna wondered if any of them would remember anything in the morning.
She spotted Marina dancing outside with some of her friends. They and a dozen other people had made their own dance floor on the large open deck out back. Anna wanted to go home, to be honest. Marina was her ride, but Anna suspected she may have to drive Marina home. The bitter thought of explaining things to Marina's dad came to mind, but she buried with great prejudice.
Caught between not wanting to interrupt Marina's good time and not feeling particularly sociable, she sidled along, picked a hard cider from a nearby cooler, walked outside, and found a less crowded spot. She bumped the top against the railing, put the brown bottle to her lips, and felt the cool liquid wash over her tongue with a biting sweetness. It burned a little on the way down. She turned back to watch the dancing, and sighed with a mix of content and resignation. She leaned against the railing and nursed the bottle for a few minutes, trying to enjoy her solitude.
Anna was about to get up and find another drink, when a dark hand reached from behind covered her mouth. At her neck, she felt a pinch under her skin. Screaming for help didn't work; the muscles of her throat felt numb, and she could hardly manage a muffled squeak. Her vision faded quickly as the world around her became murky and shadowed.
"... No, you fucking listen to me." Khan spoke, into her phone in one of the side rooms of the Franklin's Power Plant... abandoned since the eighties, and now used as a base of operations for Khan and her Fiends. "You fucks made us tear up that Fair so you can do whatever the fuck it is that you assholes have planned, and you know who is dealing with NEST and every other fucking government agency with a gun and a dick?"
Khan slammed her hand onto her chest, creating a loud slapping sound. "Us! Me and my fucking Fiends." She shouted into the phone. "You sure as hell aren't going to cut us off now.... Now, I'd like my fucking mutagen." She gripped the phone with enough force to break it, but she held back the whole time. She growled through her gas mask.
"... Khan-" A poor Fiend walked into the room and was greeted with Khan's beretta handgun.
"... Fuck do you want!? Can't you see I'm fucking busy!?" Khan asked the Fiend, gripping the trigger.
"Hey, hey, hey!" The Fiend stammered, putting his back against the wall, and desperately waving his hands in order to signal Khan off. "Don't shoot the messenger! Plague wants to have a word with you!"
"Well tell him to fuck off, I'm fucking busy, you fucking bitch!" Khan shouted, but she noticed that the person on the other end of her phone went silent. She looked, and saw that her contact had ended the call. "Fuck." Khan whispered underneathe her breath. All of a sudden, there was a knock outside of the door. Plague's artificial voice echoed into the room.
"Is everything alright, my lord Khan?" Plague asked, stepping into the room. "Forgive me for intruding, but I must have a word with you about a bit of important business." He looked at the Fiend and jerked his head towards the door, a sure sign that the man should leave. He bustled out of the room as quickly as he could. Plague crossed his arms across his chest.
Khan put her phone right back into her pocket and crossed her arms. "Other than the fact that our contact is cutting us off, everything is fucking great." Khan sarcastically spat out, looking off to the side. "Now, Plague, what the fuck do you want?"
"Ah, so they've backed out of the deal, eh?" Plague replied totally not expected. "This will certainly put us in a bind. Are there any other suppliers that we could take advantage of? I thought I heard not long ago about a particular Chinese company that was developing a similar mutagenic drug."
"... Only people we can get the real fucking mutagen from is the Hands." Khan sighed, walking over to a wall and leaning up against it. "Without it, we're fucked a lot more, because we just lost our edge over the other gangs - even those fuckers NEST." Khan continued. "We're getting fucked extra hard by NEST right now and this is the last fucking thing we need."
"Well, I may have a solution to our NEST problem, my lord," Plague said, trying to be extra ass-kissing. "It happens that after the raid this afternoon, what remained of my men and I travelled through the sewers and ended up in the Ghost town in Isabella Isle. We found a fairly well-fortified location on one of the middle floors of a skyscraper there. At present, the Fiends have no other connections on Isabella besides this one. While there is a heavier police presence on Isabella, we might be able to use this to our advantage. Using this base, we can both spy on NEST and possibly attempt to attract some of the students from Academy Twelve, boosting our forces and allowing us to know when NEST is coming before they get to any of our burrows."
"That said, however," he continued "I lost many men in the last fight against NEST due to reinforcements from the National Guard. I only have four men remaining. In order to properly spy on NEST, I need reinforcements."
An interesting plan... Khan thought Plague had some real balls setting up shop right in the heart of NEST terroritory. Hm. At this point, Khan was willing to do anything to get an edge. To get out of this situation. "I'll give you plenty." Khan said.
"Thank you, Lord Khan," Plague replied. "However, I would like your permission to choose these men myself. This job is going to require a good degree of...sensitivity, and while I see value in all of our fighters, having the wrong type of men for this assignment could spell its doom."
"... And here I thought that the crackheads made great meatshields," Khan mused. "At this point, I don't even give a fuck. Just get it done, Plague."
"Very well, Lord Khan," he replied. "I will survey our forces and make my decisions. Thank you." He bowed his head gently and turned to leave the room.
"Oh, and Plague," she said as he turned to leave, "Don't fuck this up."
"I will not fail you, Lord Khan," he said. "They stand no chance."
Sam Clarke, Lihua Vuhong, The Nightingale, and The Dreadnaughts
Part I
(A stupidly-large and long collab between Maxx, Mr Allen J, Spoopy Scary, and He Who Walks behind. Enjoy)
This was a goddamned headache. Sam leaned back against a brick wall and rolled his eyes in Nightingale's direction. He looked around and noticed that his shouting had attracted the attention of a few passersby, who looked at him as if he were a circus freak. Fuck. He turned and began to walk down the street, nodding for Nightingale to follow.
The Nightingale whistled affirmation, keeping her arms folded casually over her chest as she followed. Her hair was pinned back in a bun, ideally too short for someone to grab onto if things got messy.
Normally, they didn't get that close.
Anastasia kept close to Sam, keeping a watch where he couldn't. Radios were distracting. Noise in general was.She generally kept hers off, or silenced it mentally so she wouldn't have to bother flipping the switch all the time. Perhaps her gifts weren't as flashy as some, but they were ever so useful. Anastasia was quiet, a nightingale on her perch. They could bicker on the radio all they wanted, Caesar and Lihua and Sam. No difference to her...no difference at all.
"... Listen here," Lihua intervened. "This is starting to get really annoying. Clarke, the decision to hire the Dreadnaughts came from someone above our pay-grade, as you'd say." Personally, Lihua wouldn't have approved to hire the Dreadnaughts in the first place. It just makes NEST look desperate, and every agent look even more incapable of handling this.
"While I don't necessarily condone Caesar's little outburst, you can't end the operation like this. Information like what I got doesn't come easily, and this might our only chance to bag a Fiend lieutenent." Lihua continued, taking a break to take a sip of her coffee. "Everyone has one end goal; the arrest of the Fiends responsible for the attack on the Summer Festival. They're just here to assist."
Caesar rolled his eyes at the woman back at the NEST Headquarters spoke. He was glad she spoke up to rectify her subordinate, but felt she didn't have all the cards in her hand, so to speak. Their goals were a lot more... thorough. He turned the wheel of the van and swerved into an alleyway in the Chinatown district. Finally meeting their destination, he put it into park and took a closer look at the live-feed satellite imagery that was streaming on the screen beside them, getting a good look on all the people in the area. A green dot was hovering above a warehouse. Baron must have done his job right, then. Grit, on the other hand, was just glad to hear a familiar voice on the channel.
"Aw, it's no biggy!" Grit said cheerily - one could practically feel his face beaming through the radio. "Worst comes to worst, we can take care of it ourselves. But the more the merrier!"
"Fine," Sam growled. "I don't like this one bit, but I guess we have no alternative. Just tell grandpa to keep his temper. We're a block or so from Chinatown now. Unfortunately, some locals have spotted us. Lihua, what is the address of Long Dragon's last confirmed location?
"559 Redwood Street." Lihua was quick to inform Sam. "Look for the large warehouse, you can't miss it."
In the meantime, Lihua will be keeping an eye on things, consulting her contacts, and tapping into a camera or two. Though, it wasn't the Fiends that worried Lihua; it was the two agencies clashing that worried her. If they met face-to-face, she knew that a conflict would break out. The kind of thing that ended with bullets.
Let's just hope everyone can contain their pride and tempers enough to keep things under control. Faster they get this done, the quicker these Dreadnaughts will be out of their city, and back killing African leaders like the band of dogs they are.
It took every bit of Washe's restraint to keep him from crushing the microphone in his hand into pieces, with him grinding his teeth together. 'This is a grown-ass fucking man acting like a bitch-ass child, that whiny fuck.'
He took a deep breath to steel himself and spoke, though his voice was steady, it was like steadily grinding two stones together. It was easy to tell he was trying hard not to rip Sam's ass in twain.
"It doesn't matter," Washe said, "I've got live-feed of the whole area. The warehouse is on Redwood, but the whole space is crawling with uniformed mooks. FALCON, move around south by the main road and flank the block west-side to meet with me. Grit will station himself on top of the apartment building just down the street that meets Redwood at a T-intersection. I still don't know who the fuck NIGHTENGALE is or what they can do, but I want them to cover Grit while he makes his shot."
"... Remember we'd like them alive." Lihua was quick to note. Personally, she'd gladly kill all of them, but they do things differently in America. They believe in "justice".
"Well then, shit," Washe retorted, "I sure hope no accidents happen." Washe looked to Grit with a look of annoyance, and made a gesture with his hand crossing his throat. Grit smirked in understanding, and pulled a ski mask over his head. Off to the side, he grabbed what looked to be a camera or a screen of some sort, and made sure to secure it tightly to the side of his rifle.
Lihua quietly chuckled into the comms (A unprofessional move). "Oh well." She knew what Washe was up to, and what his Dreadnaughts were planning... and found it hard to care. The Fiends brought it on themselves if they attack a festival full of families and kids with the intent of killing.
Dogs like that can't be rehabilitated. They just need to be put down.
"Roger that, Caesar," Sam said. "My apologies for the hostilities. Let's keep this professional." He nodded to Nightingale and covered the mic on his bluetooth with his hand. "Time to go meet grandpa grumpy," he said.
The Nightingale raised an eyebrow. Well, Sammy darling, you're not exactly too chipper yourself at the moment...
Taylor Pierpoint, Santiago Woods, and Jasmine Chang
Taylor groaned and walked back out of the kitchen, leaving a cup of black coffee on the countertop. She looked over at Ratchet.
"It wus on my vnatee," she said. "I lefft it tehre so poepel wouldn't fuccck wit it." She looked up and saw that Johnny had assembled the team. "It's ok, tho. Theill find it. That one gurl cain reed meindz..."
So now Johnny was going to take over. Taylor was quite intoxicated and didn't quite feel like she'd be of any real use. Yet again, she wasn't sure if she trusted Johnny with her jewels. Knowing him, he'd pawn them off to pay for his girls or something. So she followed the battalion of drunken meta teenagers up the stairs. They walked up the second story staircase to the third, and then up onto the roof.
"Come on!" she shouted to Ratchet. "Let's cach these fuuuckres."
Santiago reclined on a pool lounge, rifling through the night's catch. Diamonds, sapphires, this jewelry box was worth at least twelve-thousand dollars on the black market! He chuckled as he picked up a large diamond pendant and let the large diamond on it swing like a pendulum. Hell, maybe he'd sneak into the party later and celebrate. These teens wouldn't know the difference! He picked up a martini sitting on a small glass patio table to his left and took a sip. Fruity. Life was good, and this lounge was comfortable. He could almost fall...
The door to the pool level exploded open and a very drunk Taylor staggered out, followed by a small army of teenagers. Santiago looked up with surprise and stowed the jewelry box in his drawstring bag. She scanned the patio, looking for anyone suspicious, but didn't see much of anything but a pile of towels sitting on a patio lounge. She turned to Mika.
"So whur aer tehy?" she asked drunkenly. Gecko dared not move a muscle. He hoped the disguise would work.
Jasmine looked up at the newcomer. This did look awful suspicious, a girl in her underwear being dragged down the hall. She thought quickly and easily came to a simple lie.
"Looks like she had a little too much to drink," Jasmine said. "Could you help me get her into an empty room?"
It was only a minute or two before Sam and Nightingale were surrounded by the sloped roofs and colorful lights of Chinatown. This part of town had significantly more people on the streets than Union Point did, and the road was filled with screeching cars. Sam looked up the address on his watch and started a GPS route to the warehouse. His usual touchpad was too big for the undercover mission, so he substituted it for an Apple Watch. He felt like a total nerd.
The Nightingale raised an eyebrow. Sam looks like a total nerd.
They cut across the street and began to walk up the road. As their paths diverged, Sam turned to Nightingale. He pointed to the bluetooth, a signal for her to silence it so he could speak without being overheard. The Nightingale nodded, waving a hand nonchalantly. A bubble of invisible energy enveloped Sam, catching any noise he gave off and killing it before it could travel further. The noise from the comm cut through to the Nightingale's ears, but no one else's. His heavy boots hit the concrete noiselessly. Anastasia allowed herself a self-satisfied smirk. Damn, I'm good.
"Caesar, this is FALCON, we have approached the building," Sam said. "So just a heads-up here, my partner NIGHTINGALE is mute, so I'm trusting your agent Grit to identify her properly. I'm heading to the second rendevous point now, over!" He turned to Anastasia. "Good luck. Try not to unnecessarily murder anyone." Anastasia gave a noncommital shrug, right hand resting on the butt of her pistol. They always focus on the mutism. I'm also a pretty good cross-stitcher, but that's never how they introduce me. I should make a note of that at the next team meeting. I'm sure Lihua would be understanding.
"Her, eh?" Grit mused over his headset, the sound of panting being easily heard as he quickly squirreled his way through the nooks and crannies of the city, ducking under clothes-lines and the like. He made a leap onto a dumpster for some extra height, and the jumped back over the width of the alley towards the other brick wall and grabbed onto a cast-iron railing that was mounted on it. He climbed over the railing and found himself situated on a platform with a ladder bringing him to the top of his destination. "You're telling me that NIGHTINGALE is a lady, eh? Well boy, don't I just like the way this mission's goin' already!"
Sam could feel his skin crawl, but he decided not to say anything. He had to keep it professional and the like, after all. Sam turned and parted ways with Anastasia, heading for the back side of the warehouse. Sam, of course, had no idea what his contact looked like, and so he quickly slunk into an alley and spoke into his comm again.
Anastasia frowned at the bitter irony. He takes the west. Why do I always wind up going east. She slipped into the impassive stance of a fighter as she walked, features dull, eyes pointed ahead and looking everywhere else. With a small effort, she silenced the background noise-the taxis honking horns, the sounds of generators running in buildings nearby. She picked up Sam's footsteps-audible only to hear-a few dozen yards away, barely made out the noises of movement inside the warehouse. Lihua wanted them alive. Seemed pointless-they'd get shivved within twenty minutes of being put behind bars, but she wasn't going to be trigger happy unless she had to.
"Caesar, this is FALCON," Sam said. "I'm on the west side of the building awaiting your arrival. I'm in an alley to make me easier to identify, over!" While he waited, Sam looked over at the warehouse. He could see a silhouette or two in the windows.
Anastasia heard Sam's voice over her radio. She pressed the transmit button and gave a quick note or two of birdsong. Technically, it was a robin's cry, but she didn't think any of the others would really be able to tell. And if they did, a talking point.
Figuratively speaking.
Anastasia crouched down, hidden in the shadows of the alley. She missed her usual gear, and quite honestly didn't see Lihua's need to micromanage her from using it, but the dark of the alley was enough. Plenty enough. She did hope this Grit had night vision of some capacity. If things got messy, she was taking out the lights first, then silencing it all. Deaf and blind. They'd die scared. I'm ready. Anastasia waited for the cue.
Washe stood beside the warehouse itself, taking care to stay under cover via a stack rusted metal barrels that his him from view from the street, with a man wearing a gas mask lying unconscious at his feet. His back was pressed against the wooden boards that made up the old warehouse. Soon enough he heard FALCON's voice over his own headset. Great, he just got here. Washe was ready and in position, but now he had to wait for this KINGFISHER brat to do his job.
"Northwest corner of the warehouse," Washe murmured into his comm. "There's a generator. One of their gang members are posted near it. Take him out silently."
Caesar turned his head around the corner - yup, still posted. He then looked the other way, peering just above the barrels he was behind. "Grit, you in position yet?"
The sniper has just climbed on top of the apartment building and moved quickly as he could in a crouch until he met the corner of that building, then spoke into his comm as he set up his stand, laying down on the rooftop to get a good look at the warehouse through his scope. "Yeah, just got there. Will let ya know when miss Nightengale comes along."
'The little shit is quick on his feet.'
"Roger," Sam replied. He smirked deviously as he looked over at the guard. Hehehe. If only you knew how quiet I could be, Sam thought. His appearance faded, and he flickered out of sight. He drew the combat knife out of his jacket. He snuck across the street, being sure not to get struck by a random car, and approached the Fiend from behind, completely invisible and impossible to detect through visuals or hearing. He clapped a hand around the Fiend's mouth and before he could struggle slit his throat wide open. He dropped like a marionette with the strings cut. Sam grabbed the body and with considerable difficulty stuffed it into the space between the generator and the wall of the building.
"Target neutralized, Casear," Sam said.
"Huh?" Caesar grunted. He looked around the corner once more to see FALCON standing there, apparently out of nowhere, with a bloody mess slumped on the ground. "To fuckin' hell with this city of freaks..."
Anastasia kneeled beside a trashcan, small and flexible enough to hide almost her whole frame behind it. Her pistol rested calmly in her right hand, index finger running parallel with the barrel. The faint chatter of Caesar and Sam filled her ear. All this talk. So needless. She rolled across the alley, pausing in the shadows of the opposite side for a moment. They seemed to thicken around her, darkening almost imperceptibly. It wasn't invisibility, but it was useful. She walked forward calmly, able to move as quickly as she needed without fear of making noise. No one in the alley. Anastasia crept to the door, pressing flat against the wall next to it. Waiting, waiting, waiting...
"Grit, how's Zombie doin'?" Washe asked over the comm.
"Ah, that's right!" Grit replied, slightly alarmed. He held the button on the camera-looking device mounted on the left side of his rifle until it flickered into life. Suddenly, it burst into life. Yellow light filled a wooden room full of people with gas masks. The camera on the other end moved, and it became apparently that the person it was on was in a corner standing guard with a ring of people in the center of the warehouse. One person stood out in particular, looked like one of their bosses or something. With the view, he also got a good idea of where this man was in relation to the other spots of the warehouse. He answered Washe, "looks like he got in all right."
Baron stood in the corner of the inside of the warehouse, his face covered with a gas mask and his entire person adorned with leather. Since he had left the Headquarters, he made a point to not let anyone else but his comrades know he'd be taking any part in this. He wanted to see if he could get any information that he could out of these Fiends - nothing to share with NEST, of course, he couldn't risk leaking information everywhere. Besides, the less that everybody thinks the Dreadnaughts know, the better. To kill two birds with one stone, he rigged his person with a camera, helping Grit to succeed at an even more elaborate shot.
The knife on his Apache did wonders for subtly striking vitals, thus how he got the uniform.
The information he has gathered so far was, for the most part, completely useless. They were practically a bunch of stoners with superpowers, but there are a couple of things he could manage to glean from by posing as a guard. Long Dragon was hosting an intiation, which lent credibility to the idea that the city was full of even more sympathizers than NEST had likely lent on. There was mention of a particular drug that made these folks stronger and gave them the powers that they have. However, that piece of information wasn't something that hasn't already been covered in Vuhong's documents.
Unfortunately, the only mention of the other lieutenants or of Khan that he made was of some reference to a particularly vulgar activity. Nothing relevant.
"Well, that's good." Caesar grumbled. He pulled out a cellphone - an old flip phone from the pocket of the Fiend he had downed earlier - and dialed 911. After a couple of rings, the operator picked up. "Verthaven 911, what is your emergency?"
"Yes, hello," Caesar started, "I discovered heavy Fiend activity at the warehouse at 559 Redwood Street. I think Long Dragon is hiding out in there."
"Thank you, we're on our way."
Washe then ended the call there and smashed the phone against the pavement. He quickly spoke into his comm to relay the rest of the plan - or at least, the rest of the plan that the others needed to know. Whatever happened, the Fiends mustn't know they were here. Otherwise, they'll go even further into hiding.
"Okay scrubs, we're going to make this quick. This is a black ops mission - that means we're handling this covertly. These fuckers aren't gonna know we're here. NEST wasn't involved with this, KINGFISHER wasn't involved in this, and the Dreadnaughts weren't involved in this. They aren't gonna fuckin' know we had anything to do with this operation. For all intents and purposes, the VPD got a lucky break and found LD on their own. Grit, as soon as the police force comes within two blocks, let us know. When they do, FALCON is gonna shut off the power. I have a pack of firecrackers here that I'll throw in through a broken board in the wall at the same time. That'll simulate the sound of gunfire. When they come runnin' to help and open the door, Grit, make your shot. Zombie's camera has night-vision.
"When you make the shot, the police will be there just in time that we can pin the success of this mission on them. Then there's gonna be a massive shoot-out, and when that happens, we're all getting the fuck out of there. This is going to require precise timing. So don't fuck it up!"
"Oh, brother..." Grit muttered. Washe's ideas were always convoluted, and this time, it put a lot of pressure on Grit's head. Still... the man had his reasons... he always did. He made a point to look at Baron's camera and then back at his scope, to determine where to aim his rifle as soon as warehouse doors opened.
"If your man inside needs any help getting out, I can go in and give him cover once the lights go out," Sam said. "It'll be a cakewalk."
"Don't try anything fucking fancy, just follow the plan!" Washe snapped. Baron was fine on his own. The last thing he needed was some invisible guy suddenly grabbing hold of him out of nowhere. All Baron has to do is make it through the back door and go through the alleys, then he'd be out of harm's way. Sam rolled his eyes. This guy had a highly-trained invisible assassin on his side and he was using him to flip a switch? There was no point in arguing about it now.
In about four minutes, a fleet of police cars came tearing down Beijing Street at maximum speed. There were ten cruisers, four vans, and two armored personnel carriers from the National Guard. Sam stood by the generator, gun in hand. There was a door adjacent to the generator, and if if opened he was going to be ready to kick ass.
The police cars came within two blocks.
"Good mornin', America, how are you... don'tcha know, I'm your native s--" Grit halted the murmured singing as he looked away from his scope, and turned over to see the militarized police force come zooming by, warranting a near-panicked reaction from him. He was about three or four blocks down, but still prompted his worry. He quickly spoke into his comm, "they've hit the second block, do it now! They're coming in fast!"
Caesar reached into his pocket to grab a zippo lighter and with it, lit the fuse of the firecrackers beside him. The fuse was long, he'd have to wait a brief second.
"Roger!" Sam smacked the lock off of the power box hanging from the wall with his gun and looked at the complicated system of switches inside. He pulled a few switches to cut off the power and, to make sure it got done right, shot the board with his suppressed pistol. A loud "Ping!" filled the air and the box exploded into sparks.
The lights in the warehouse immediately died down afterwards, prompting a couple of alarmed exclamations from the people inside. Baron's body was stiff and anxious. Washe looked at the fuse as it gradually shrunk. Finally, when it was just an inch or two away from the firecrackers, he jumped around the barrels and tossed them through a hole between two broken boards of the warehouse, and soon enough, went off - catching the people inside off guard.
The sound of the electrical box bursting open and firecrackers caught the Nightingale's attention. Why do men have to blow everything up? So messy. One big dick measuring contest, all the time. She was not left with much time to ruminate on the gender dynamics of covert operations for long-the doorknob beside her began to rattle. Anastasia quickly darted across the alley and knelt beside a few trashbags. Her concealment was by no means perfect, but between the darkness and the adrenaline of the Fiends, she imagined she'd be alright. Her gloved finger slid onto the trigger of her pistol, and she reached for her knife with her left hand. After a moment, the Fiends unlocked and opened the door, looking both ways.
"It's the fucking cops, man!" one of them said, struggling to pry a belt off of his arm. Jesus. I feel like I'm overqualified for this. He removed it and threw it on the ground, rubbing at the crook of his elbow. "The fuck do we do?"
The other was on par in terms of sobriety and strategic foresight. "I guess, just, run or some shit." The two took off down the alleyway, leaving the Nightingale in a bit of a dilemma. Their odds of stumbling upon the sniper were...low (provided this Dreadnaught had any training whatsoever), but if they did, that could be enough to botch this whole job. Leaving her back to an open door and a warehouse full of tweakers was not exactly a tactically sound choice either. Sighing (noiselessly), Anastasia rose, following the Fiends from a careful distance. They darted around a corner, heading roughly for Grit. They're either very lucky, or very well-informed.. Admittedly, the rooftops weren't a terrible idea, and she could understand where the two would look for that. Cops were going to have their hands full with the warehouse-these two cowards could lay low until the coast was clear. Anastasia wasn't used to the Fiends displaying such intelligence. It was disarming.
They slid to a stop by the ladder to a fire escape, briefly arguing over who should get to climb first. The minute she heard boots hitting steel, she turned the corner. The Fiend on the ground spotted her, mouth widening in alarm. And yet nothing came out. Curious. Anastasia sidestepped his punch, which was terribly predictable. Forget the intelligence thing.She moved to press the blade of the knife to his neck and thought better of it. Getting blood over her clothes wouldn't do for the getaway-finding time to be irritated at command for not letting her have her suit even in the midst of a grapple, Anastasia punched the side of the Fiend's neck, pushing off with her legs and throwing her whole body into the punch. The Fiend grunted, but she must not have struck the carotid with enough force. Perhaps he was just too drugged to pay attention to the laws of biology-off-balance and alarmed, the Fiend staggered enough for her to land a kick on the shin of the leg that was holding him up. He hit the pavement more or less facefirst, and Anastasia quickly double-tapped the back of his head with the pistol. Bone and brain splattered onto her boots. I'm going to clean these off on the inside of Lihua's ass, damn her.
The other Fiend was none the wiser-camaraderie was a very relative term amongst this bunch, and the welfare of his tagalong wasn't something he appeared to be very concerned about. Anastasia holstered her pistol and clenched the knife in her teeth, clambering up the ladder much more quickly than he'd been able to. She caught him on the third flight, grabbing his ankle and yanking back down. His chin caught two of the rungs on the way down, and the entire damned, rusty scaffolding seemed to shake with the impact. I swear if this city put half of NEST's budget into maintenance. He opened his mouth to scream, and once again, quite curiously, made not a sound. Anastasia kneeled over him, resting her knee on the man's throat. He slapped at her legs and torso, but didn't have an angle or enough force to get her off. He fell asleep. Perhaps permanently. Anastasia stood up, wrinkling her nose as she brushed his touch off of her. Christ, she didn't want to think about where those hands had been. She continued clambering up the ladder, emerging behind Grit. She gave him a quick whistle to let him know she was there, and then knelt beside him, watching the scene unfold from below. Grit turned around at the sound of his compatriot, evidently happy to see a pretty face in the sea of gruff old men that he worked with. "Ah, I thought you'd never come!"
Meanwhile, in the warehouse, the lights had abruptly gone out. Baron was blinded for the time being, but he knew that Grit should be alright as long as he had the camera. He made sure to keep it focused on where Long Dragon was standing previously.
"What the fuck! Where'd the lights go?"
"Someone find them!"
"Who the fuck turned them out!"
"I can't see!"
Following the darkness, came the firecrackers. In the midst of alarm and panic, nobody noticed the brief second where sparks flew through the air and onto the ground. Sounds of gunfire immediately erupted from it, and the smell of gunpowder filled the room.
"Fuck! Fuck!"
"Shit, get down!"
"Who's firing?!"
From the sounds of it, half of the people in the room dropped to the floor, and in no time at all, moonlight filled the warehouse as two Fiends opened the large warehouse doors to check what all the commotion was about.
"What's happening!"
Back to Grit, still laying on the rooftops, had seconds to make the shot in time. Taking a quick glimpse from the green recording and back to the scope, he aimed it into the darkness of the warehouse. "Here goes nothing," he muttered. He pulled the trigger as the massive police invasion came to a halting stop in front of the doors.
Baron saw a familiar tall silhouette among the much abruptly lurch backward, before staggering and ultimately falling onto the floor. Behind his mask, the spy smiled. 'Whether it's Grit's luck or his skill, the boy never ceases to impress.' He turned around, making his best efforts to remain inconspicuous to the Fiends (who were more than likely distracted by the sudden army of police forces) as he casually leaned against the back door and started making his escape. He took off the gas mask as soon as he went out-doors, breathing a breath of fresh air. He looked down to see Washe's anxious face, and simply gifted to him a reassuring smile. Washe sighed.
"Mission successful," Washe declared over the comm, "now let's all get out of here before shit hits the fan."
Sam sighed and watched as the plan unfolded perfectly. These guys were impressive; they kicked ass without any supernatural abilities to help them. He was awe-struck and a tad jealous of them. As the back door burst open and Baron came running out, Sam crept over and slunk inside. He flickered out of sight and vanished once more.
"Caesar, this is KINGFISHER FALCON," Sam said. "Job well done. I'll see you around. I've got one more thing I've got to do."
"Yeah, yeah..." Washe muttered. He proceeded to lead Baron through the back and through the alleyways to bring him to the van that they had made their mobile base of operations.
Grit grinned from ear to ear. The old man's plan worked like a charm! It was like he knew what those Fiend mooks were gonna do. He took apart the stand fo his sniper rifle, and slinged the gun over his back, then immediately began rushing across the rooftop as he ripped off the ski mask over his face - the damn thing was too hot for a tropical city like this. As he began making his escape, he smiled at agent NIGHTINGALE, clearly satisfied with himself. "What do you think, eh? Not too shabby, am I right?"
'I take back my previous sentiment about the Dreadnaughts being hired to fight for you - these two had no qualms with ignoring NEST and blowing the man's head out.' The Nightingale thought.
Anastasia rolled her eyes at Grit's attempt at coming on to her. She's been in this scene a long time, and if there was one thing she should've gotten used to be now, it was a cocky marksman. Being one herself, though, there was some place for respect on Grit's part. She was at least impressed by Grit's ability to take out a target in pitch black darkness, but was a little skeptical that perhaps the man was just lucky beyond compare. When he took off his mask, she was taken back by the marksman's youth - at least a couple years younger than she was. She wasn't the type to pray (with the life she's led so far, it's safe to say she's forsaken her place beyond heaven's pearly gates), but she might just contemplate praying he wasn't one of those prodigies that made her look bad.
Grit was mostly concerned about getting the hell out of here than flirting with the hot assassin while they were surrounded by the militarized police and by gang members. He stepped on the scaffolding ladder, and as he slid his way down to the platform below, he called, "let's get outta here while we can. We've got a rendevouz over by, uh... down over by... uh, damn it, I don't know. The Chinese take out place? Let's just get out of here!"
Anastasia sighed. 'So maybe he isn't a prodigy. Good for me.'
“Well… didn’t really expect you to be that up front. Whilst we’re bein transparent I may as well let you know I’m meta myself. I manipulate atomic structure, long story short I can make damn good stuff, only problem is that it takes so long to do that its useless in combat, don’t work on living things neither. I make my gear and I make rare parts too sell for cash and that’s about it.”
Lynn lay on the couch, hands gently resting over her swollen stomach. Damn, she'd forgotten what it felt like to be this full. Her opinion of Martin was rapidly improving, even if a bit of paranoia was still there. Lean freedom to fat slavery anyday. Lynn didn't fully understand what the hell an atomic structure was-her mind immediately jumped to nukes-but she didn't want Martin to think she was retarded or anything, so she gave him a knowing grunt that hopefully just seemed nonchalant.
Martin stood and collected the discarded cartons and utensils. Dropping the cartons in the can he washed the cutlery and glasses in silence letting her think whilst his mind raced with the possibilities she present if she decided to work with him. Washing the suds off in the cold water he dried each piece individually. Placing a few forks in a glass he left it on the windowsill to the fire escape.
Wouldn’t matter if someone wanted to get out but if they wanted to get in it would make a clatter when they knock it over. The door would make enough noise on its own and besides, if anyone was coming in the front there would be bigger problems to deal with. Just because your paranoid don’t mean they aren’t watching you.
Lynn grinned as she watched him. Martin was clever-and looked to be street-savvy enough to think of something like that. She had no use for somebody who couldn't get their hands dirty, couldn't see the world as it really was. Thus far, Martin seemed to be levelling with her. Thus far.
“If ya ain’t got nothing else needs said or done then I’m going to hit the hey, hothead. Theres some sheets over there.” Gesturing at a neat pile of fabric. “Don’t use the pale yellow ones, they’ll itch like crazy but the white ones will be fine. Couch is yours as long as you want it. I’m thinking of scouting the sewers a bit tomorrow, work out what goes where maybe find a place or two for a cashe. If ya ain’t anything else going you’d be a big help. Anyway I’m an early riser so I’ll try not to wake ya if I’m up first.”
"No, I can go with you. Just wake me up whenever. And, uh, thanks." Lynn grabbed the white sheets (wondering why Martin kept the yellow ones around, but it wasn't her business) and flopped down on the couch. She didn't bother tucking it in or anything similar, she just threw the sheet out over her legs and hoped for the best. Not that she really needed a blanket-it was just more comfortable. Lynn was used to sleeping on worse-a few seconds after she laid her head down on the cushion, fatigue sunk into her arms and legs. Lynn had been planning on going through Martin's shit after he fell asleep, checking to see if there was anything sketch like a Klan uniform in the cloest or a VCPD badge tucked away somewhere but...the couch. The couch was really comfortable. Really comfortable.
With nothing else to be said Martin picked up his coat and disappeared into his room, closing the door behind him. He sat on the edge of the bed and laid his holster on the back of chair next to his bed.
Hell of a first day. Any plans I had coming in are in tatters. Though maybe it’s for the best. I knew coming in that a man on his own would be dead in a month baring some real delta shit. Maybe a smarter man would spend the night awake with his gun but damn if coming here was a smart idea I’m Mickey Mouse. Hemmingway said it right, The best way to find out if you can trust somebody is to trust them.
Folding his clothes neatly on the chair he laid back. Sleep incoming, ETA… right fucking now.
Okay, this chick does look mighty shady. Part of Meifeng was telling her to just take Carole from her, and take her somewhere safe. While the other side of her was telling her to just go with it. Well, in this situation, the latter has won.
"Yeah," Meifeng said, walking over to Jasmine - quickly realizing they were the same height! - holding the unconscious Carole. Meifeng slid under Carole's shoulder, and used her strength in order to take a load off Jasmine. They carried Carole into one of the rooms, and Meifeng put her down on the table. Despite not knowing this girl personally, she still cared enough about the people around her in order to lend a hand.
Afterwards, Meifeng stood straight up, shooting Jasmine a disarming smile. "She should be fine here, now let's get down to business." She sat down on the bed right next to the unconscious Carole - looking at her exposed body for a brief moment and whistling suggestively. Following it with giggling. "I wanna help you find that crook. I'm not the type who'd sit on her ass and let everyone else do the work."
Johnny rolled his eyes the second the tomboy joined the crew. You look like some shitty butch with those overalls on.
Whatever, whatever, whatever. As a group, they quickly rushed to the top of the building. He looked around. Well, shit. He didn't see a single suspicious motherfucker! Mika's info is bad as fuck, yo. When she walked up, Johnny leaned in, and whispered to her, "... Mika, where is this cocksucker? You said his bitch ass was on the roof, and we on the roof!"
Both Taylor and Johnny were asking Mika the same question - except she found Taylor's question far more irritating. To which she glared at Taylor from underneath her glasses. "You should have a seat, Taylor-dear, you might hurt yourself trying to think." Mika said to Taylor. Then she exerted her telepathic will, expanding her reach to the surrounding area. She picked up the thoughts of Psycho Gecko, and wondered why this idiot was even sticking around. Anyone who doesn't want to get caught would get five hundred miles away from this place.
She whispered, "He's disguised as that pile of towels." Mika nodded her head in the direction of him.
"Alright, alright, alright... you boys stay here, I got this," Johnny said, a confident smirk etched his way onto his face, as he walked over to the lounge chair. He stepped in between the two chairs, and leaned over on the railing. Almost like he was looking at what was below. Then, in a sudden movement, Johnny kicked the lounge chair over, and it fell over. With Psycho Gecko Falling over on it.
"Surprise motherfucker!" Johnny shouted, hopping over to Gecko. "Give up the jewels, freakshow, or I'm going to make you red all over!"
Santiago Woods, Taylor Pierpoint, and Jasmine Chang
Jasmine laid Carole on her side in the bed (so that she wouldn't choke if she started throwing up), and covered her up in a blanket that felt more luxurious than polar bear fur. She then sighed and sat down in a swiveling office chair. She rested her face in her palms and stared down at the floor.
"Unfortunately, my services are no longer required," Jasmine replied. "They've found the crook. Nevertheless, my powers don't work very well at all when I'm intoxicated. Eh, I probably wouldn't've helped anyways. I'm not exactly the best detective, you see. People say it's because I'm impulsive or because I'm batshit crazy, but I think I just don't have my heart in it anymore, know what I mean? I mean, it used to be fun to think I was as good as Sherlock Holmes at discovering mysteries and taking out villains, but I fail all the damn time! Like, what kind of detective am I?" Jasmine began to cry a bit, and it became obvious that she was about to have a full drunken rant.
"What am I good for anyways? My only real power is a surprising immunity to alcohol! See? I'm completely fine right now, no ill effects except the only think I've figured out all night was that the thief I was going to catch was apprehended by a bunch of damn drunks! It's not like I would've helped anyways. I'm...I'm just..." she began to fade off to sleep. "...useless." Jasmines head slumped onto the vanity with a mild "clunk".
At first, Gecko thought that if he remained very, very still, he could trick the party of drunken teenagers into thinking he had escaped. After all, how smart were drunk teens? However, it appeared as if one of them was a telepath, and so his secret was out. He sighed and looked up, opening his eyes to reveal that he was, in fact, there. He looked up at the ostentatiously-dressed Johnny and grimaced. This guy looked like he could put a whooping on a large reptile. Yet again, he was drunk.
"Now, now, let's not get into a disagreement over this," Gecko said. "After all, what value do these jewels have to you? Can't eat 'em, can't drink 'em. Sure, they're pretty to wear but they won't keep ya warm, right? hehehe..." Of course, this didn't seem to dull hostilities one bit. So, Gecko fired his tongue at the beach house's chimney, waved goodbye, and catapulted himself across the roof like Spiderman. Then he shot his tongue onto a TV dish on top of another house and swung into the darkness. Taylor staggered after him and attempted to fire a bolt of ice at him, but only created a snowball and nearly ran off the edge of the room. Sylvia grabbed her by the arm and kept her from running off the side.
"Shit!" Taylor shouted. "After him!"
"Yeah, don't think so," Johnny replied. "I ain't risking my beautiful ass for your gemstones! Next time, don't leave your shit lying around, eh?" Taylor's eyes welled up and she fell to her knees. "Ah, come on, Tay," Johnny said. "No point in crying about it. You're a millionaire. Buy it all again. Now let's go get you something to drink. Water, you don't need any more booze in your system!" He helped her to her feet and the gang began to walk back down to the party.
"Damn," Gabe said, looking off at where Gecko landed. "I was looking forward to kicking some fucking ass."
"Sure we'll see him again," Jake replied, putting a hand on her shoulder. "We've got a tendency of running into bad guys a lot."
"Wakey, wakey..." A feminine voice said in a singsong. Awakening the person, and the first thing they see? A dark room, and a woman, with red hair, is staring right into his eyes. "Megan Jervious. Damn pleased to meet ya'!" She said, laughing as she stood straight up jogging around in a circle the room laughing like a child.
What was most interesting was that she was running around operating tables - and most notably - with people tied to them. With a limb strapped to each corner, and has a... rather rustic power inhibitor collar on their necks. The room they were in seemed to be a nexus of some sort. The room was large, and there were plenty of hallways leading down into other rooms.
"Hello there, my lovelies! I am Megan Jervious and I'm excited to announce that you all have been volunteered to participate in a wonderful project that will surely bring in a new age of super science!" Megan loudly announced with enthusiasm on par with a motivation speaker of ecstasy. "Are you excited as I am?!" She asked.
"Enough with the theatrics, Megan." A voice that obviously belonged to a middle aged male said, emerging from the shadows. He stepped out of the shadows, wearing a hospital mask that did little to hide his large nose, or his brown eyes. He had tanned skin, and a balding head of hair. He wore a labcoat, and boots, along with rubber gloves.
"This isn't a performance, this is science." The man said.
"But Beeeeerlioz...." Megan gave Berlioz the puppy-dog eyes - literally, she shapeshifted to have them - before continuing, "... You never let me have fun! I got you all these lovelies ready to have fun!"
"Ugh, you are so juvenile," Berlioz facepalmed, before putting an open palmed hand to Megan. "How the hell did you reach your rank within the Hands of Science?"
"By being so fun!" Megan grinned like a child.
The sound of wind being disrupted announced the presence of another party. Both Berlioz and Megan turned to one of the hallways, to see blurry air, and two glowing purple orbs that burned much like a fire, or a plasma. Those were apparently it's eyes.
"Ghoul," Berlioz started off, "Have you located the girl yet?"
The orbs moved from left to right, to intricate that no, he has not found their targets.
"Damn it! How does she keep getting away?!" Berlioz asked - very rhetorically - slamming his fist on one of the operating tables. He growled, and pointed back down the hallway. "... Then what the hell are you standing here for!? Get back out there and find her!"
The blurry air, and the orbs disappeared.
"... Tsk, tsk, tsk, Berlioz," A woman, coming out of the shadows spoke in a mocking tone. She was amused about something. The second she revealed herself under the light, it showed that she had icy-blue skin, and had a heart tattooed on her right cheek. What was most interesting was her attire, she dressed like a cowboy with a brown duster, brown cowboy hat, cargo pants, and holding up those pants was a heavy belt that had two holsters - each with a high powered revolver in them - and various ammo pouches hanging off of them. Topped off by her combat boots. An unlit cigarette hung from her lips.
"When will you stop sending amateurs after that girl and finally send me and my partners after them?" The woman said, quickly pulling out a silver lighter to set her cigarette ablaze. She put her arms behind her head, "We'd bag that bitch in no time."
"Because you were told not to." Berlioz responded.
"Wow, I feel so attacked right now." The woman said, sarcastically. "Look, we were hired to help you capture some brats to experiment on: and you're not even letting us grab the big one. I mean, I know how giving other people powers is a big fucking deal to you guys - even if the bitch can only give Super System powers - so why don't you put a little extra manpower into it, yeah?" The woman took a puff of her cigarette.
The woman leaned in towards Berlioz, and gave him a cheeky smile, "And so far... your track record... which consists of losing her... ain't lookin' all that good."
Megan raised her hand, interrupting the woman by saying, "I lost her, guilty as charged." With a cheeky smile on her face.
"Talk about track record when you are only here because your squad of psychopaths can't do their job right and have to ask us for a job just so you can have some pock-"
The woman pulled out her revolver at damn near super sonic speeds, and pressed it gently against Berlioz's jaw. Her expression was stern, and brutal. "Now listen here, Berlioz...."
".... H-heartbreaker, s-s-stop-" Berlioz spattered out globs of spit as he made his plea.
"... I'm sure as hell not like your pet freakshow in a trenchcoat," Heartbreaker put more pressure against Berlioz's jaw. "I'm not one of your HoS lapdogs, I'm a fucking Changeling. Got it memorized? And if you think some washed out has-been scientist will order me around like one, you got things-"
What interrupted Heartbreaker was a gun being pressed against her head. Her eyes drifted to the side, to see Megan holding a gun - a glock - to her head.
"... Megan, we both know that gun is fake." Heartbreaker groaned, letting the cigarette fall from in between her lips onto the ground - to which she crushed it with her boot. "So cut the bullshit already?"
Megan took a step back, until the gun was at least five inches away from Heartbreaker's head. "... Not until you smile!" The "gun" shot out a flag that had "BANG!" on it, and poked Heartbreaker in the head. It retracted, before poking her in the head again.
Growling loudly, Heartbreaker, quick as lightning, put the revolver that was against Berlioz's head back in the holster, then pulled out her other revolver and put it to Megan's forehead. "Jesus Christ, stop doing that like you're some kid." Heartbreaker snarled.
"... I only wanted to defuse the situation...." Megan moaned, and the gun went "limp", drooping downwards. Until it was reabsorbed back into her mass.
Heartbreaker, similarly, put her own gun away, and crossed her arms. Letting out a sigh, and rolling her eyes. She, abruptly, turned halfway, and pointed at Berlioz, hissing, "And for your information, I'm only here because the good old Changeling business hasn't been as good as it used to be." She stepped in closer, poking Berlioz in the chest as she continued, "If a paycheck wasn't stopping me, I'd blow a hole in your chest and spit in it, but for now I'm working with you." Heartbreaker's demeanor became much more relaxed, letting out a sigh. She took a few steps back, and adjusted her belt.
"Damn that felt good!" Heartbreaker said with a wry grin. She leaned up against one of the operating tables, and pulled out a cigarette, lighting it and smoking. Afterwards, she went from leaning against the table, to sitting on it, hunched over.
'Course, she couldn't enjoy the quiet for too long. One of the subjects, Aiden Cross, burst out of his restraints, transformed into his half-dragon state. He quickly got up and began running down the hallway.
Naturally, Heartbreaker pulled out of one of her revolvers and pointed it at Aiden.
"Wait, no!" Berlioz shouted, grabbing Heartbreakers wrist and pointing it downwards. "You might miss and hit one of the subjects!"
"I might miss? Man you're rude as hell." Heartbreaker spat out, insulted.
"Don't worry..." Berlioz assured Heartbreaker. "... Nemesis will get him."
Down the hallway, Aiden was rushing through the mazelike halls of the base. Hoping to find an exit, he found a pair of large doors that looked like an exit down an otherwise empty hallway. Before he grabbed onto the knobs, and pulled onto it with all of his strength. Yet, that wasn't enough. He put a foot onto it, and pulled harder.
... Glowing bright red eyes flashed for a brief moment, before disappearing and fading into the darkness.
Heavy footsteps could be heard slowly approaching, and Aiden turned around. He couldn't see, but he knew something he didn't want was coming. He huffed, and breathed a stream of fire - revealing a gigantic man over seven feet tall, very wide and strong looking, wearing a brown longcoat that went down to his ankles, gloves, and a head obscuring gas mask with red lens that showed not a trace of face, or humanity. The fire burned the man's longcoat, but he seemed otherwise unaffected. Given how he closed the distance, and delivered a punch to Aiden's abdomen so hard that he flew backwards and bounced off the door (which did nothing to it).
After the thunderous boom of his impact, Aiden shook his head, and quickly moved in for a punch towards his attackers face - which was intercepted by the aggressor grabbing onto his hand, and swinging him around to the wall behind him, creating another monstrous roar on impact. However, the man wouldn't let go of Aiden for a second, the moment Aiden recovered, he tried to rush him, only to be met to a punch to the abdomen that sent him flying down the hallway, and - you guessed it - he slammed against the wall at the end of the hallway so hard that it cracked. Spit and blood came flying out of Aiden's mouth.
He was on his last legs, but the man... the thing... wouldn't stop. It continued down the hall, and by the time Aiden got off the wall, it was right there. Standing right over him. It delivered one punch against Aiden's face with one large fist, then another with the other. Punching him over and over again, changing hands each time. One last solid punch to the nose made Aiden sprawl backwards. He regained his composure - only to be snatched by the leg and heaved into the wall at full force, and bouncing off again. And he wasn't even given a chance to recover before his head was lifted off the ground, and slammed into the ground at full force.
Which was the final blow. Aiden was merely knocked unconscious. Holding him by the head, the large man carried him back to his master like a dog would bring a stick.
Dragging Aiden back to Berlioz merely got a nod from his master.
"Ooooh, what a good lapdog!" Megan said, kicking a leg back. "Can you make me one?"
"No, Nemesis here is the last of his kind... and my finest work, despite being flawed. He embodies my work to create the perfect Metahuman." Berlioz said, "He would have been mass produced if my works weren't rendered... irrelevant by the Hands of Science figuring out how to give people powers."
"How the hell did Dragon-dildo over here use his powers if he has the collar on?!" Heartbreaker asked, dumbfounded, and with her shoulders shrugged up high. "Weren't those collars supposed to stop fucking powers from working?!"
"Ugh. They're rather faulty." Berlioz groaned, "My superiors gave me a few defectives. Ugh!"
"... And you talk down to me like you're some sort of master when you don't even have good equipment. Tsk, tsk, tsk." Heartbreaker taunted Berlioz, sticking out her tongue.
"Oh you shut up!" Berlioz said.
Megan kept that grin on her face, it was almost unnerving, "Well, that was fun, but you look mighty busy tonight, so I'll adjourn." Megan took several footsteps backwards, and turned into a messy silvery-colored blob of organic substance. Flying down the hallway at high speeds.
"And I'm bored. Later, Berlioz." Heartbreaker said as she walked down the hall.
That just left one thing.
"Nemesis," Berlioz snapped his fingers as he began walking down the hall. After three steps, he ordered his massive minion, "He is expendable, dispose of him."
Nemesis's focus went from Berlioz to the bloodied Aiden. He put both hands on each side of Aiden's head, his palms alone nearly covered his head, and Nemesis's fingers interlocked. His life was in his hands, everyone they kidnapped was watching, and one simple act of strength would surely spell his end.
Which is exactly what happened.
The loud sound of bones being shattered, and certain organs being squished, filled the room before the screams of horror become the dominant sound in the room. In less than a second, Nemesis crushed Aiden's skull to the point where there was nothing left to even identify him with. Only crushed pieces of the dragon child. Both hands were together, smeared with blood.
What was left of the mess was dropped onto the ground, and Nemesis turned around and simply walked off into the hallways of their base.
No one knew what was underneath the mask.
Is it human?
Was it human?
This was merely the start of a new age of terror.
Act II:
9:23 AM
Unlike most Verthaven days, the sun was obscured by the grey clouds in the sky. The day was still warm as ever (just slightly less), but it wasn't as sunny as the city was advertised. Of course, .
Meifeng Vuhong, Lin, & Mika Baozai.
In the aftermath of the party... it was a little crazy. Almost everyone there was passed out on the ground in various hilarious positions. For example Drake was hanging off the chandelier wearing a wedding dress, the same lampshade on his head.
In particular, Meifeng was on the roof of the beach house, passed out. Lying down with her arm wrapped around a potted plant, and the other hand full of assorted female underwear. Loudly snoring, and drooling. Barely half awake with not a care in the world. Whenever she opened her eyes, she'd get assaulted by the morning's light rays and instinctively close her eyes. Though, the pain of the fight that took place last night was catching up like hell. Her face and stomach hurt mighty hard... and probably would be better if she went home and put some ice on it. Two footsteps that approached - and stood over her - largely went ignored until one got close, and started tugging on the girl lightly.
"Meifeng, hey, Meifeng... wait up." A very familiar voice spoke to her as she came to - and God her head hurt.
"Yeah, yeah..." Meifeng said, quick to slap a hand onto her forehead as she got up. She was slow to open her eyes, and once she did, she saw her cousin, Lin. Giving her a look - a special kind of look. The one that said "Oh, you fucked up, but I want to tell you in a nice way!". Bullshit. "Maaaan, that was one crazy ass party...." She moaned, looking around. The next thing she saw was her much bigger cousin, Mika. Arms crossed and giving her the good old evil eyes.
"... Miiiiiiiiikaaaaa-"
"No." Mika quickly snapped, cutting Meifeng off. "... Do you realize what time it is, and, more importantly, where you are?"
It took one look around for Meifeng to realize it. "Oh shit! I'm still at the beach house!" She screamed, putting her hands on the side of her head with her eyes wide.
"Exactly, you never made it home." Mika said, with the most neutral expression on her face. "How-ever, I've... as you'd say, "covered" for you." Mika quickly reached into her black purse, and pulled out - not her own but Meifeng's - cell phone. Effortlessly getting past Meifeng's code lock, and showing Meifeng a series of texts that Mika sent. Meifeng leaned in a little in order to see.
"As you can see, I told Lihua that you were going to dinner with us, and that you decided to spend the night." Mika coldly said in a matter-of-fact way. "Now, I talked to Lihua, and she wants to meet us for breakfast later."
"How do you know my pass- wait, nevermind." Meifeng let out a sigh of relief, that Mika had convinced Lihua that she wasn't at a party. Meifeng started going through the underwear she had collected, probably out of boredom. Until she raised an eyebrow. "Ooooookay, waaaaait..." Meifeng pulled out one pair of plaid boxer briefs... that she was wearing when she got here. "Then what am I-" Meifeng leaned forward a bit, pulling up her skirt slightly - before stopping, realizing how inappropriate that was.
More and more questions were popping up, and ending with Meifeng asking, "What the hell happened last night?"
"Well...." Lin said, trying to find a good way to put it.
"Actually; no, I don't wanna know." Fortunately, Meifeng was quick to go back on her question. The first thing the girl did was grab a bottle of vodka that was lying around, and just randomly started downing it.
"What, are you trying to kill yourself?!" Mika shouted as she snatched the bottle of alcohol out of Meifeng's hand.
"Nope..." Meifeng started, smacking the top of her mouth with her tongue. "... Just trying to kill anything inside of me."
Mika and Lin were dumbfounded, looking at Meifeng like she just killed a man. Mika in particular was facepalming.
"... Know what? Let's just go." Mika suggested, and everyone nodded in silent agreement. As a group, they headed down the stairs into the living room where the party once took place....
Jake, Gabe, Sylvia, Johnny, Lin, Mika, & Meifeng.
".... Mhmm, yeah, uh-huh," Jake said into the phone in a near endless loop of those three words. Until he pleaded, "Can you at least send Jaska back?" To which got a very audible no. "Alright then... bye." Jake then hung up the phone, and turned back to see his twin sister, Gabriela, hunched forward on the couch with a hand on her head.
"... So what did he say?" Gabe asked.
"Well... He said we have to "find our own damn way home"." Jake made sure to finger quote. "Because he's kinda pissed that we stuck around in Verthaven. And that we're just not cool enough. And he's also really pissed that we blew up a store last night. And Johnny apparently talked to him earlier and told him that he looks like a saggy testicle. Also we're not cool enough."
To which made Gabe loudly groan. "Great... we're trapped in a hellhole that bloody terrorists tore apart."
"Heeeeey, look at the brightside," Jake took a few steps towards Gabe, "We're in a fancy house on the beach, what can go wrong there?"
"Everything." Gabe said, "... I just want to get back to Black Fall, okay?"
"Well, that's going to be real har-"
"ROADTRIP, BITCHES!" Johnny shouted, as he kicked down the front door, holding two brown bags of groceries with his forearms as he walked in. When he stepped in, Sylvia squeezed in from behind him and stood at his side.
"No." Both Gabe and Jake said in unison.
"Oh, why not?" Johnny started off, smiling widely enough to flash his gold tooth. "I scored us a ride and everything!" He stepped off to the side to let Gabe and Jake see a black 2015 Ford Explorer that was parked in view of the door. "... We just need to get out of here before jackass I took it from comes looking for it." Johnny pulled his collar. "It'll be great! We'll head onto every fucking city and have ourselves a party in each of them. Everyone will get some booty."
"Well, for starters," Jake leaned over and looked through the door. "That isn't big enough for all of us."
"... And where the hell are we supposed to sleep?" Gabe asked.
"Then we're not fucking leaving Verthaven," Johnny said, shrugging, "Unless Jakey here blows a pilot."
"Hey! Why me?!" Jake asked, putting his fingers onto his chest.
"Because it's not funny unless it's gay." Johnny retorted.
Gabe started laughing, crossing her arms. "Yeah, ain't that true."
Three sets of footsteps were walking down the spiral stairs, and the Valos turned towards them to see the Baozais, and the sole Vuhong. They stood in a triangle formation the second they got down, with Meifeng behind them - who was looking at her phone at the moment. She sent a quick text to Anna,
Anna! enjoyed the party with u! :D
but where did u go girl? ttl
"Hey," Jake started off, waving at them.
"It seems that all the rednecks are all worn out... pitiful." Mika said to the group. "I hope you Valos have a place for us to stay?"
"Well, no." Jake said. "We're... kind of in the same situation." He shrugged... and every word hurt his pride.
Mika rolled her eyes. "Excellent, I'm sure getting trapped in this warzone of a city was worth this stupid party."
"Heeeeeey Mika, no one invited you in the first place." Johnny pointed at Mika. "So quit your bitching."
"In case you've lost all brain cells, I was." Mika retorted.
"By who?" Johnny asked.
"My sister." Mika answered. "I came only because I wanted to make sure she was safe."
"Now, that's just insulting," Johnny huffed, "You don't trust the good old Valos security?"
"Yeah!" Meifeng intervened. "Why didn't you just call your cousin if you needed some security?" She shrugged her shoulders up. "See what I did to those bitches last night?"
"Everyone did Meifeng," Mika rolled her eyes, "you don't have to brag about it."
"Um, where is this conversation going...?" Jake asked Gabe.
"Gotta say, your guess is as good as mine." Gabe said.
"Yes, you have to be a stereotype." Johnny taunted.
"Hey, look who's talking, dressing up like you're some pimp. That you're cool." Meifeng hissed, pointing at Johnny.
"Gasp." Johnny said deadpan, putting a hand on his chest, "You have hurt my feelings."
"Know what? This is pointless; me and Lin are going to stay at my aunt's house until we can get back to Black Fall." Mika announced.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, aren't you getting a little ahead of yourself, Mika?" Meifeng put her hands up.
"No, I've already discussed this with your mother over texts; she said yes." Mika said.
"Greeeeeeeeeeat...." Meifeng hunched forward and let her arms drop.
This was the start of something mediocre
Michelle Brianna Gallus & The Agents of NEST
Lined up against the walls were a squad of NEST Agents (Which included Michelle Gallus), all bunched up next to a door, and on the other side was a team of National Guard soldiers. Both sides were heavily armed, and ready to push into a known Fiend crackhouse; an abandoned apartment in the Iron District.
One National Guard soldier pointed at Michelle, then made a rectangle (without the bottom) in the air with the same hand, then pointed at the door. Michelle put her hand up, and formed a ring with her index and middle finger.
Michelle approached the door, and put her ear up against it. Michelle put her hand in the air, and made her ring finger and thumb touch, with the rest of her fingers in the air, and made the hand signal to reference enemies. The National Guardsmen pointed to the door again, and on signal, Michelle took a step back and kicked the door down, and sent it flying into the room.
"Everyone freeze!" Michelle shouted as she pushed into the room with her AA-12 in hand, pointing it. What was before her was a hallway with several apartment doors, and not too far down the hallway was a staircase, with a hallway off to the side. The yellow wallpaper on the walls would be stained with blood soon. There were two Fiends on the staircase, and one reached for his gun.
"Put the gun down!" Michelle shouted, pulling the trigger and a couple rounds of rubber bullets came out of the gun, and hit his jaw so hard that it broke (NON-LETHAL WEAPONRY). He fell backwards, and his buddy got the right idea turning tail and going up the stairs. She'd capture him later. After the scene, the rest of the NEST and National Guard Agents came pouring into the building behind her. Kicking down the doors, and apprehending any Fiends, with and without lethal force.
Michelle quickly moved over to the steps, and dragged the unconscious Fiend out of the line of fire as she put cuffs on him. She heard footsteps above her approaching fast, and she quickly grabbed her shotgun. A group of three Fiends, pumped up on the mutagen (One had armored skin like an insect, another had electric hands, and the last had flaming legs), up to the stairs.
"I'm going to cook ya' and eat ya'!" The Fiend with the flaming legs jumped down the stairs, swinging his legs wildly in some attempt to hit Michelle. She simply stepped out of the way and swung her arm out and launched him into a way, incapacitating him. The other one was already running down the stairs, trying to grab Michelle, but only met a hail of rubber bullets which knocked him on his ass. Which left the last man... who was running up behind the other mook. He rammed Michelle, which admittedly, make her take a few steps back to regain her balance. She quickly swung her fist at him, and left one hell of a dent in his armor. He went down quickly. Michelle was about to apply cuffs when a storm of gunfire overwhelmed her hearing. Fortunately, it was on the second floor. Her radio began blaring,
"I am pinned down!" Agent Volkov said into the comms. "I'm on the second floor, I need help!"
"I'm on my way!" Michelle shouted, quickly running up the stairs, and, well, following the sounds of the bullets. Until she saw Alek Volkov holding a shield of crystals, which was getting shred to bits by the bullets.
She didn't waste time in grabbing a tear gas grenade and throwing it over Agent Volkov. The Fiends scattered (just as she planned), giving Agent Volkov a moment to backwards retreat. National Guardsmen pushed by Michelle, and pursued the fleeing Fiends. Michelle noticed that the bullets were stopping.
"Building has been cleared all Fiends have been apprehended." Ariela spoke through Michelle's comm's.
"Affirmative." Michelle said, grabbing onto her comm. "Good work."
Michelle walked down the stairs, and cuffed the Fiends she had disabled, and pulled the rest outside. Where there were tons of VPD, National Guard Members, and NEST. Captured Fiends were lined up against the wall, and being put into vans.
What was most interesting was that people were carrying drugs and mutagen out by the boatload. This was a major blow against the Fiends.
Michelle put her shotgun behind her by the strap, and began walking through all of this. She'd have plenty to report back to the base.
"... Look out!" A National Guard member shouted, but it happened far too fast for Michelle to react.
A massive glob of a black sludge came from high up above, and hit a police van... which dissolved the metal and created a bright yellow gas that quickly spread outwards as the sludge melted the vehicle.
Michelle covered her face, and shouted, "Everyone get back!" She started running out of the way, and barely realized that another glob had hit another vehicle creating more gas.
Unfortunately, it was right next to a crowd of NEST Agents - including Agent Volkov, and Agent Carl. They didn't have time to react before the yellow gas consumed them, burning their outside and inside as the gas entered theirs system. Only sounds of them choking to death could be heard. It wasn't long before they dropped dead from the toxic chemical.
"There!" A NEST Agent shouted, and pointed at a rooftop of a convenience store where across the street, Sulfur, a Fiend lieutenant was perched. Everyone with a gun (Michelle included) pointed their guns at the roof - unfortunately she ran out of the line of sight - and opened fire.
"I'm not letting her get away!" Michelle shouted, as she began a powerful sprint after the Fiend lieutenant.
@Mr Allen J“Now, for the fourth God damn time, has the plan finally fucking made it into your thick skull yet?”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Geez, you know what old man? You could really tone it down with all the insults!”
“We're about to apprehend a fucking big Fiend, don't you start acting like a pussy now.”
“Nah man, seriously. It's really starting to get to me. You know, all I want is some of your–”
“Some of my what?” Washe interjected. “Some of my wallet? My social security? Because you're already draining away my fucking will to live on this damn planet.”
Grit's face twisted up in frustration. “No! Your-- you know what? Nevermind.”
Baron walked up behind the bickering two with two gas masks in hand. He had already been watching the two exchange jargon like this for past ten minutes, all the while NEST was busy waging an all-out war against one of the Fiend lieutenants. Against one person. Clearly a frontal assault wasn't going to work. That's why they had to lure Sulfur into a trap – NEST didn't know about their operations. Any hint of them working with someone else that was flanking them would ruin the whole operation. Unfortunately, internal conflict might jeopardize the mission before even were to that happen.
Honestly, as not just a psychologist, but also has one of the Dreadnaught's counselors, he was hoping that Grit would get whatever he had to say to Washe off of his chest. Perhaps that would settle some of turmoil storming on between these two's relationship.
“You should get it off your chest.” Baron said calmly to Grit as he offered him one of the gas masks he was carrying. “It's no good to keep everything pent up inside if it's only going to eat at you.”
He offered the other gas mask to Washe.
“It's no good.” Grit muttered as he began pulling the mask over his head. “The old man only cares about the mission. Let's get this over with.”
Washe pulled the gas mask over his own head, rolling his eyes behind the tinted lens. “Just keep your head screwed on right so we don't fuck this up.”
“Well, I'll leave you two to it then.” Baron said, taking a few steps back. “If I'm not mistaken, I have myself a date with a certain NEST intelligence officer. Good luck.”
“You too, Zom.” Grit said waving his hand.
“Ring me once you've captured the lieutenant.”
“One step at a time, please.” Washe grumbled.
Once the three have finally parted ways, Grit and Washe began moving towards the sound of commotion. They finally stopped in between a t-intersection in an alleyway by some of the public storage units. Washe turned to face Grit and began speaking.
“Alright, one more recap: you're a Fiend mook. You're gonna run up to Sulfur, alert her to a safe escape route. These storage units have two doors: a back door and a front door, and the other side is completely cut off from the main road, so it makes it ideal for getting away. There is also a chance for civilians, so it makes complete sense to hide there. Lead her to this storage unit. Sulfur is known to be very cautious, that's why she hasn't been caught yet. We're going to take advantage of that. Once she gasses the unit as a precaution, I'll spring the trap.”
“Clear.” Grit said.
Washe was slightly taken back. Only one word? No enthusiasm? Huh. Well it was about time.
“Alright, get going then.” Washe ordered.
Grit turned about and made a sprint through the alley, banking left towards the commotion erupting from the city in full Fiend gear. A risky move, considering the place was swarming with NG, police, and NEST agents. Looking up, he saw a silhouette across the sky. On top of a convenience store? That must've been their target. He hurried up the scaffolding ladder across the back of the building. Peering his head over the edge, he saw the back of their target and... oh, yeah, so their target was a woman, wasn't she?
For a druggy, she's got one hell of a butt.
The yellow gas in the area was disconcerting, but as long as he kept his gas mask secure, he should be alright. He finally pulled himself up to the top, his .50 BFR drawn in the air as though he was just taking part in the battle.
“'ey boss!” He yelled in his best school dropout loser voice. “I found me a good escape over 'long this way! We can lose the fuzz!”
Meanwhile, Baron was heading someplace completely different. Much, much farther away. After all, there were stories about bullets that had missed their target flying far and high and, of course, they had to land somewhere. It'd simply be embarrassing if a man of his composure who had endured so much and had built up such a career amongst the Dreadnaughts were to get caught up in something like that. To had fallen at the hands of a stray bullet? No sir. But that wasn't just the only reason, however...
The man looked up at the logo above a building. “Sunny Delights Cafe'”. Supposedly at the nice end of town, and Baron looked down at a flashing neon sign saying “open”, “open”, “open” - over and over again in its metronome. Lihua Vuhong... a charming woman in her own right, perhaps more respectably deserving of the honesty that Baron was incapable of providing. As their intelligence officer, there was a lot to glean from this date. But at the same time...
That doesn't mean he can't enjoy himself here while he was at it.
He set his hand on the doorknob and let himself in, hearing the bells jingle as he entered the cafe's light-hearted atmosphere. A quick scan of the room let him catch the agent quickly, even amongst the clatter and crowd of this place. Popular, indeed. While talking about private matters might jeopardize NEST's security, there was also something to be said to let your words be drowned out amongst the chatter of everyday life. Vuhong just had to hope that nobody here would recognize her, or were enemies of NEST – provided she had any intention at all of sharing information.
Baron suspected it would be more difficult than that. She wasn't the intelligence officer for nothing, after all. As far as he knew, at least.
He paced his way through the crowd, with his braced leg somewhat dragging him behind – but despite that, seemed to weave his way through the crowd with abnormal ease and calm. He finally approached the table and gave Lihua a smile in greeting – he was dressed in his typical dress-suit, but unlike the salmon shirt that he wore beneath his jacket the other day, this one was a mint green, and the tie that went over it was tightly secure between it and his jacket.
“I must say,” Baron began, “the atmosphere in here sure is something. It almost makes it feel like it's Christmas... in the middle of summer.”
He had to admit; when agent Lihua Vuhong was all dressed up, she looked fairly stunning.
