[IC] Two-Man Army

[MatthiasAngel]

[CURRENT TIME: 14:01]

Matt yawned. He was leaning back in a swivel chair with his bare feet on a desk, staring at the ceiling. It was a dull white, recently painted by himself just to claim he changed something about his life. He was wearing crumpled grey camouflage combat pants and a sleeveless grey shirt with "OBX" printed on the front, his favorite place on earth besides the city. He looked over at his jacket hanging on the only coat hanger in his closet. It probably needed to be washed, but it wasn't going to happen in the next few minutes. His boots were on the floor below them, directly beside another identical pair still in the box. You never know when you're going to need a new pair of boots. The rest of his clothing was folded semi-neatly in the small three-drawer chest beside his twin bed. A large square mirror was mounted over it and he could see his reflection. Black hair combed back, recently cut down to an inch and a half. Dull, half-open eyes with dark pupils. Stubble on his chin from not bothering to shave the previous day. On first glance one might see him as a lazy college student, winging his way through life on his parent's money and ignoring the rules.

Matt smirked. He was far from lazy and was certainly not a college student. The dog tags on his mirror, hanging from a ball chain necklace, were real, although one of them was missing. If that wasn't enough evidence, his H&K UMP was mounted on a large gun rack in the living room with two loaded magazines and a pile of other weaponry and tactical armor. He was a "specialist," according to him anyway, along with his roommate whose name he often shortened to "Man." The two of them had a history that could have been turned into a novel no one would believe, but as of now they were Kilo, a team of men who were more or less detectives, investigators, SWAT soldiers, and (if necessary) the judge, jury and executioner. Their work area was an entire city and their assignments came in whenever they were needed to take care of something suspicious. The city's police force wasn't exactly first-rate and lately the commissioner had been hearing a lot of unsettling rumors. Whispers. Hints at something sinister.

Yet nothing had turned up. The few raids that the city had performed found exactly nothing. Rather than keep throwing resources and wasting gas on every set-up that came through the mail, the city turned to him. If a mysterious phone call comes in, or a threat shows up in the mail with a return address, Matt is sent to check it out. It was a relatively stable career, as long as people were willing to keep mailing threats and promising death.

He glanced at the clock again. No news. The apartment only had one wireless phone and only one person ever called it, but it had been silent for a while. So had his roommate. Was he even in? Matt shrugged, then winced. He had been twirling a butterfly knife in his left hand and the blade had clipped a finger (because who wants to own a blunt knife?). There was a wide array of medical supplies in the bathroom, but he didn't feel like moving that far. He jerked the top drawer of his desk open to reveal a fat box of band-aids. He slid one out, wrapped it around his finger, tossed the paper into the trash can under his desk, slid the drawer closed with his foot and went back to staring at the ceiling.

[icicle]

(OOC:( There’s no need for a timestamp if the chronology of your writing doesn’t influence the flow of events. You can mention the time in-character when you look at the clock.))

Reggie took yet another deep breath as he lay on his cheap couch, eyes closed as he thought to himself. Matt’s insatiable urge to throw his knife around and ruin furniture will undoubtedly influence our rent next month… he thought, feeling around a slash-mark in the arm rest of the cotton-woven furniture item. Reggie always planned ahead in all aspects of his life, sometimes too far, especially with finances, which neither of them had to worry about anymore considering their jobs. Nonetheless, Reggie preferred to keep something in mind, at least to keep his good habits uninhibited, and he did not particularly esteem Matt's knife habits, either.

The bulky asian stretched for a few seconds as he convinced his lazy self to sit upright once more. He was not “bored” so much as, “distanced from action and excitement.” The medic looked around the room with his bright green eyes as he engaged with his consciousness in an internal debate about his future course of action for dinner. Cup ramen or cliff bars…that is the question… With a yawn, the medic stood up, brushing a few stray pieces of yarn from his urban camo uniform.

The material was optimal – it was resistant to cuts and tears, didn’t burn easily, was very breathable(except he sprayed his uniform with aquaphobic product) and didn’t inflict friction burns like wool. Despite this, Reggie took the properties of his clothes for granted because of the five extra pairs he kept in his closet. Reggie also ignored his boots, for the most part. He didn’t even wear them in the apartment, because they were very uncomfortable in the given setting. Nonetheless, Reggie understood the value of his clothes as the hem of his pants caught on the leg of a coffee-table, causing him to trip.

Unlike Matt, Reggie had taken aikido, so instead of thudding against the ground, he rolled off his shoulder and quickly got back up. “A pain in the arse…” he grumbled, walking towards the kitchen. As he reached the door, he heard the whine of Matt’s desk drawer opening. With a condescending grin, Reggie called out a threat, “keep up your knife spinning and, one of these days, you’ll lose your trigger finger.” He then walked into the kitchen and looked through a few drawers, staring blankly at their supplies as his internal debate continued.

[MatthiasAngel]

Matt scowled briefly. "It's in my left hand," he called back. "I'm right handed, so...yeah..." his voice trailed off. He was never very good at comebacks. He snapped his wrist, sending the blade and handle in a sharp curve and back into the closed position. Why wasn't anyone calling? No work for almost two weeks? Surely there had to be some illegal activity going on somewhere in this city. It wasn't exactly a small place.

He dropped the knife on his desk, pushed away from it in his wheeled desk chair and stood up, stretching briefly. He hadn't eaten since 8 AM and it was the early afternoon. Regg was probably making lunch for one, so he was going to have to handle it himself. Lately Matt had been into meat and cheese subs with vegetable toppings. It was the closest he wanted to get to a salad. He needed to stay in good shape anyway. Fortunately, he had two and a half of them left, still in the paper bag. Matt glanced around his room, looking for some kind of excuse to stay, then left, leaving the door half an inch open.

Regg was looking through the shelves, but Matt could tell at a glance that his roommate was somewhere else, thinking hard about who knows what. He gave up figuring out what was going on in his head long ago. After all, Regg was a genius of sorts. Maybe he was unraveling the history of the universe. Quantum physics for lunch. Matt through briefly about making a comment, but decided against it. Instead, he slid past Regg as smoothly as possible, opened the fridge, removed half a sub and a bottle of water and closed it with his left leg. He looked glumly at the gun rack, fully stocked and untouched. The phone was sitting silently on the table. Grumbling, Matt made his way back towards his room, opening and closing the door with his foot.

[icicle]

As Reggie reached for a cup of dried Shin ramen, he heard Matt’s response and grimaced. He then assumed that Matt already knew how horrible his comeback was, and decided not to respond. With a pitying shake of his low-hung head, Reggie placed the cup of ramen on the kitchen counter and walked over to the water-heater. It was annoying to wait for water to boil, but the taste of ramen was worth it. Nonetheless, we should get better quality food soon… he mused, filling the small tank in the water heater with water.

The two had not gotten a call in eleven days, and were beginning to ration their supplies. Their agreement was to accept any job given to them by a certain number, but with no calls, there was nothing to do. Reggie occasionally practiced his surgical skills on the unfortunate rodents who wandered into his room, or his first aid on his greatly annoyed roommate. Beyond these things, all he could do is go to the shooting range and play cards. Reggie wasn’t a very sociable person, so wandering the streets was painful to Reggie just to envision. Chills shot down his spine with the thought, and a frown creeped across his face as he imagined another two weeks without activity.

As Matt passed by behind him, Reggie looked around in the cupboards for extra spices, eagerly awaiting the steady, “beeeeep” of the water heater as it completes its task. He found a few veggie packets and a bag of soy sauce, but the rest of their extra ramen supplies were gone. “Hey, Matt,” Reggie asked as the soldier shut the refrigerator door with his foot, “where did all the extra spice packets go? I swear there were at least five extras in here!” With his question posed, he turned around, ramen cup in hand, to barely see the foot of Matt as he turned the corner.

Reggie predicted that Matt would have no idea where the packets were, or what happened to them. Sure, Matt was the only other person around to have touched them, but only Reggie himself used the ramen-drawer at the top-left. Matt tended to stick to the silverware drawer and the refrigerator only. Still, Reggie wanted to use the question to start a conversation, as he wanted to express his distaste with waiting for a call.

[MatthiasAngel]

Matt ignored the question. Reggie knew full well that he didn't eat spicy food, and he wasn't in the mood to talk anyway. The lack of work was starting to wear away at his patience, making way for irritation and a shorter temper. He knew he needed to keep it under control, but doing nothing over and over was taking a toll on him. He needed to do SOMEthing. Clean the guns. Practice boxing. Take his bike apart and put it back together.

He opened the top left drawer in his desk and looked through it. He grinned briefly. It was his "Go Kit." Everything he needed on the job. A heavy flashlight, camera kit, lockpick set, choke cable, and a new weapon. He lifted it from the drawer and slid it out of the holster. It was a Boniwi EKA Camlock baton. 26" of retractable German steel, capable of breaking doorknobs, windows and bones. He needed practice though, which reminded him; he had purchased a book on fighting with sticks not long ago. Matt dove back through the desk, locating the book and flipping through the illustrations. He would need a sturdy object as practice. Something that could take serious hits and not break. He scowled, then glanced up.

Of course. His punching bag. It was no cheap store bought brand. The bag could take a serious beating without a single scratch. Matt stood up and flicked his wrist, sliding the baton open and resting it on his shoulder in a basic combat stance: feet spread, knees bent, hands in front of the face for protection. He lunged at the back, jumped back and struck it with the baton. The impact echoed briefly through the room, nearly shaking the floorboards. He groaned inside, knowing full well that we would be in for a berating from Reggie. He spun the baton in an arc, turning his head slightly and watching the door.

[icicle]

With a sigh, Reggie turned towards the water heater just in time to hear the “bing.” He jumped in shock, a gut reflex momentarily deceiving him into thinking it was an explosive, but afterwards, he convinced himself that it had not happened and walked over to the device with his ramen in hand. The medic effortlessly peeled half of the lid off of the ramen container, slid the heated pot of water out of the water heater, and poured the liquid into the container. He had done it hundreds of times throughout college and ex-millitary life, so the reflex was set. Nonetheless, something about his situation made him feel that concentration was necessary to succeed at the task.

Upon mixing all the ingredients into his cup of ramen, Reggie carried the container over to the coffee table in the living room and took a seat on the couch. He placed his trusty plastic chopsticks on the lid of the container to keep the steam in as the noodles soaked, then leaned back, closing his eyes to think.

For the past few days, the two roommates had done upkeep work and training, to make sure their skills were sharp, however they did not have a single job or request. It was almost as if they owned a restaurant with no customers. Reggie was used to using stress-reducing and calming techniques so as to work effectively while under fire, but it was impossible to reproduce any remotely similar stimuli without actual combat. Sparring with Matt, breach-and-clear simulations at the firing range, even horror movies couldn’t make him flinch. Of course, the more pressing issue was that his equipment was going to expire if he did not get to use it by a certain date, which would waste a great amount of money.

By the time his brief meditation met a satisfactory conclusion, Reggie heard a loud “smack” followed by a tremor. Without a thought, the soldier shot to his feet, darted around the corner and threw Matt’s door open to see him wielding a giant metal rod, facing the door. Reggie stared at Matt grimly and asked, “what exactly made you think that this was a good idea?” as he gestured to Matt’s weapon. “The gym is much sturdier than our apartment,” he spat out, “plus, the tenants below us threatened to have us kicked out if we kept up the loud noises.”

Reggie didn’t doubt Matt’s intelligence, nor his planning, but he knew full well that his team-mate could not care less about the people living around them. This was more of an ongoing character issue he had while off-duty. They both had their flaws, but Reggie seemed to point Matt’s out more often. He was more interested in money and in efficiency than in personal comfort, a trait that made him horrible at extended care. Clearly, this was noticeable in how he treated Matt on a regular basis. Nonetheless, his intentions were honest and well-intended.

[MatthiasAngel]

Matt watched Reggie leave, paused a moment, then closed the baton. It probably wasn't worth pointing out that you cannot practice with a baton at a gym, but it would just irritate the other man further. He shrugged it off, as usual, and slid the baton into his belt rather than the the desk. He was considering bringing it for the next mission. If there was one. Reggie would be the first to snap if one of them did, since Matt managed to take most of life's difficulties and roll them off his shoulders, whereas Reggie seemed to never forget anything. He smirked briefly at the idea of other tenants demanding that they leave. That was certainly not going to happen.

Then again, he wouldn't mind a little more space. Maybe an actual garage for the bike. A personal workout room with soundproof padding. A telephone that didn't make as much noise as their current one did. He flinched. There was probably a way to change their phone's ringtone but he hadn't gotten around to figuring out-

The phone was ringing!

Matt forced his door open and slid across the floor, scooping the phone from the table receiver, turning, sitting on the table and crossing his all in one motion.

"Kilo," he said with a brief smile, as though the listener could see him. "We're open 24/7 and today we're charging half-price, although I'm still going to need to see some ID."

The man on the other end sighed. He still wasn't used to this. "Hello Kilo. This is the chief."

"Heyyy!" Matt said in a lazy voice. "Where ya been, buddy? It's been a while."

"Busy. Straighten up, Matt. You've finally got work to do."

Matt tilted his head, listening to the chief explain the details. He nodded several times and ended with a salute to no one. "You got it, Chief. Call me again sometime, okay?"

He dropped the phone back into the receiver and headed for his room to grab his kit. "Hey, Reggie," he called out through his door. "Suit up. We've got work to do."

[icicle]

Reggie plopped down on the couch, just in time to peel open his bowl of ramen. The scent of well-cooked noodles filled the air and brought a smile to the medic’s face. It was one of the few things in the world which could make him smile. It did not last long, however. Before Reggie even managed to fit his chopsticks in his right hand, he heard the phone ringing. “Matt!” he yelled, fiddling with the plastic sticks as he carefully placed the lid of the ramen bowl in his pocket, “Phone!”

Of course, before he was done with his second word, Matt had already made it to the phone, sliding across the floor in the process. All the medic saw in Matt’s action was a waste of sock durability and possible carpet wear, then again, it was small enough that Reggie was not willing to point it out. Instead, the medic began mixing the noodles around in the bowl to mix the flavoring around.

As Matt gestured and spoke on the phone, Reggie watched, holding the noodle bowl under his chin, slurping away at his food. He could not tell if Matt was using code words or just acting silly as he spoke, but it seemed to work fine. As his comrade continued to speak, Reggie tried to eat faster. As Matt hung up the phone and called out his name, Reggie looked up at the guy and nodded. He felt that Matt’s next few words were a bit cliché, but he could not point it out, because his face was stuffed with noodles.

As such, Reggie was not planning on suiting up quite yet. In fact, he did not even know what the details were. As soon as he was done chewing, the medic called out, “What’re the details?” and continued chomping down noodles, ignoring the capsaicin as he continued. He nearly spilled his food a few times as he listened for Matt, but managed to hold his ramen bowl with surgeon-like precision. There was no time to play around with the noodles, however. As soon as he plucked out the last few noodles, he gulped down the spicy soup and shot out of his seat, running over to the kitchen to throw the stuff in their proper places for later cleaning.

[MatthiasAngel]

Matt went through his equipment in his mind. He wasn't going to need everything this time. Just some basics. He jerked his boots and fingerless gloves on, along with a jacket and lower facemask, then opened the kit drawer. Knife, baton, lockpick kit, headset...that was probably enough. He shoved the drawer closed, tightened his belt and stretched, returning quickly to the main room.

"Small garage a few miles away, 4th and Westbrook. Chief says they've been getting a lot of tips on that place but the most recent 'inspection' a week ago was a dud. Rumors are still hot, though, so we're going to go stake it out and have a look around while we're at it." He grabbed the KSG shotgun from the rack and began loading one tube with rubber buckshot.

"Might not even have opposition. I'm travelling light. Gonna put the guns in a messenger bag and take my bike," he added, picking up his tactical leg holster with his sidearm and a spare mag. He filled the second tube with slugs (good for emergency exits) and tossed it, and the holstered sidearm, into a black shoulder bag and slinging it over his shoulder. His helmet was with the bike, both hidden in the alley on the other side of the apartment. He would take the emergency exit ladders to reach it. Matt tapped his pocket to make sure the keys were there and headed for the door.

"Lemme know when you're ready. And try to be discreet!" he called, opening the door and moving quickly towards the bike.

[icicle]

As Reggie listened to Matt’s words, he could not help but wonder, is he trying to simplify the briefing? Nonetheless, he walked over to the gun rack and grabbed his primary and sidearm. Whether they were staking out or not, the medic’s primary combat tactic was either suppressing fire or primary target takedowns, so his loadout barely changed. The medic placed his M27 on the bedside and pulled his side-holster out from under the couch, one of the few places he liked storing gear. He assumed that by “try to be discreet,” Matt was inferring that they would need to use a back exit into their steakout site, though he needed to be sure. As he listened to Matt’s final words, he fitted the side-holster around his waist.

“Where are we going to meet?” the medic asked, watching his friend run out the door. A look of distain immediately followed his remark, coating his face as he looked back at his assault rifle. “Screw it, I’m walking,” the bulky medic concluded, disassembling his rifle as he looked around for his medical pouch and his cheap BP underarmor vest. After spotting the medical bag, he pulled out the barrel and shoved it in his favorite carrying case – a pillow.

With this done, he carefully fit the pillow into his medical pouch and placed the pouch on the couch. Quickly checking the G22, the medic concluded that he would travel light with ammunition and sheathed the gun in his side-holster. He then pulled his hoodie out of the closet and threw it over his shoulders, fitting into it roughly as he stumbled back over to his couch. After nearly stubbing his toe, the medic sat down and quickly shoved a pair of boots over his feet. He could not pass for a civilian from the waist down, but his appearance was not jarring enough to draw attention.

After getting fully dressed and organizing his equipment thoroughly, Reggie got up and walked out the door, setting the security system to “on” and locking the door behind himself. He then casually walked over to the elevator and greeted a few neighbors on his way down to ground floor. He awkwardly paused mid-sentence as he remembered that Matt had not told him where they would be staking out, but continued a second later. He determined to call Matt after leaving the apartment complex.

Of course, someone on the ground floor happened to drop their luggage and spill it all over, so Reggie offered to help. Overall, it took him around fifteen minutes to leave the apartment complex after Matt left the door. Reggie was not worried about a time constraint, despite his eagerness to complete the new job, so he was fine with the delays. Nonetheless, after giving his farewells to the careless lady who dropped her luggage, whose name was Maria, Reggie quickly walked out the door and started to head left, pulling his sat-phone out from its place in his pocket.

After quickly finding Matt’s contact in his address list, Reggie pressed call and held the phone up to his face, avoiding a beggar as he J-walked through an empty street. He assumed that Matt was either really close to his destination or he was already there, so he expected an answer as he walked along the street, firstly heading for 4th street.

[MatthiasAngel]

Matt tapped the side of his helmet, answering Reggie's call. He was already on the bike, taking a longer route to the destination.

"Hey. I'm on the way. Gonna circle around and do a slow drive-by to check for immediate security. I'm about two minutes away, so I'll let you know what I see and where to pitch a tent." He gunned the motor, taking a sharp turn and heading for one street past the garage. Exactly two minutes later he passed the address.

The immediate impression was completely innocent. No visible threats of any kind, including cameras or fences. It was technically an auto repair building on the corner, with a sidewalk and several feet of grass between it and the pavement. It had a wide service entrance into a large two-car bay (currently open for business, with a white sedan on the lift and two mechanics checking the tires) and a small six-car parking lot on the side. This led into a large roll-up door (the service entrance, perhaps), along with a one-pane office door. Not a single thing was out of the ordinary.

Matt sighed. "It's an auto-repair garage. One car in service, but room for two. No guards, no fences, no cameras, nothing. I didn't get a good look at the mechanics but they're unarmed, not surprisingly. I dunno. This place is too...visible. Exposed. No room for error."

He ran it over in his head. Bad place for a meeting. Good place for a quick escape. Bad for guns, good for an alibi. It had the looks of another dead-end, but it was better than nothing and Matt wasn't about to let an opportunity slip by. He had passed the building once and was circling around for another pass. If he drove by too many times, he would look suspicious. He needed an alibi of some kind. An idea struck him.

"I'm going in. Gonna fake the need for an auto repair and give the place a look, then bail."

He pulled into a nearby alley and turned the bike off. Moving quickly, he removed the cap from the tire valve in his front wheel and pressed the valve in, rapidly deflating the tire. He waited until it was almost drained, then restarted the bike and pulled it into the garage.

"Excuse me! Do you guys work on bikes? I just got a flat tire."

[icicle]

As he urgently walked along, Reggie weaved his way through the sidewalk traffic and listened intently to Matt through his phone, hoping to understand him over the sound of his vehicle. After Matt finished talking, the medic could only deduce that his comrade still needed to get a feel for the situation. With this conclusion, Reggie slowed down and continued along casually, looking around to stay aware of his situation.

He passed by a few streets, and nearly got hit by a rather aggressive driver, before receiving another update from Matt. Matt described the place to him, but stuffed his observations with conjecture. Not surprisingly, he hung up before the medic had time to say anything, leaving Reggie annoyed. They would not call us in if the situation was as it seems. That’s why were staking it out he thought to himself, running through how he would explain this obvious fact to his partner as he continued to walk.

Only a minute or so after the second update, Matt quickly called Reggie again. “No! Do not compromise your identity!” Reggie growled, barely too late. This time, the medic was angry. He understood that his comrade was eager for some action, but far better opportunities would open up later on, if they were careful. Now, if Matt tried to return under a different alibi, the opposition force would become suspicious and might delay or cancel their operations. But, if he was smart… he continued, playing out different situations to pass time as he walked along.

After twenty minutes or so, Reggie checked the gps location of Matt's helmet and concluded that he was fairly close to the objective. Knowing this, he crossed the street to the side opposite the auto-shop and continued walking still upset at his partner’s decision. I can hope that the workers switch shifts later, or that he brought other disguises, he thought, walking behind a rather large lady as the cross beacon started flashing in combination with the annoying bleep sounds.