One day, a mysterious figure dressed in black approached you. Considering your exceptional ability at avoiding people you are not willing to be involved with, this was an unexpected approach. The man in black remained silent, just handing you an envelope. The envelope contained 2 airport tickets to new York, an address and a specified date and time and the following invitation.
Fellow Criminal,
Your unique talents at your field of expertise have made you a canditate in a first-of-its-kind group of individuals. You are invited to join the Perfect Crime .Inc, a corporation in which the members offer their services in order to accomplish crimes that each one of you individually could never do! Break ins into the world's most impenetrable places, assassinations of the most well-protected individuals, helping the escape of convicts from unknown to common people prisons will be part of your jobs, among others, as members of the corporation. Of course, you will also be profiting from your actions, profiting more than you could ever imagine! I will be expecting you at the specified time, date and location.
X
Intrigued by the contents of the invitation, you decide to follow the instructions of the letter. Thus, you find yourself at an abandoned building. Entering it, the man in black is waiting for you, there, saying:
"Welcome. For avoiding unnescessary confusion, we have given you and your colleagues different times for your flights and arrivals here, so you wouldn't have to meet before getting here, that's why you are alone. Please follow this path."
With these words and the press of a remote in his possession, the man in black revealed a secret underway staircase, which led to an underground passage. Going into the passage, after consecutive security authorizations, be it retina, fingerprint and DNA scans, you finally arrive at the end of the corridor. A main room with a gigantic screen on the wall was there, along with a round table with named chairs, including one with your name, with computers in front of each one. There were doors at the sides of the room, but they were locked at the moment.
With nothing else to do, you waited patiently for something to happen. With that in mind, the room was eventually filled with people, some of which you knew, some of which you didn't. Time passed with some people starting conversatiosa with each other, others doing something on their own. Until the screen on the wall was turned on...
(With this, you have some time to make your introductory post. I suggest you ignore the last sentence of my post, so you will not be turning your attention to the screen immediately after your first post. Take some time to converse with each other.)
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Rusalka El Telefono Publico
Member
Seen
12 mos ago
"Here be knowledge. Let he who hath wisdom reckon the number of the beast, for it is the number of man, and his number be Six Hundred and Sixty Six."
-Revelations 13:18
*******Accessing_Database: Security Protocol 44423525634525421***********
&&&&&-creating backdoor-&&&&&&&&
*****Accessing_Database: ///////
#######_ghosting_private network access portal_##########
!!!!! WARNING: ADMINISTRATIVE ACCESS REQUIRED !!!!!!!!!!!!
Name: M4NT!$
Passcode: **************
>>>>>>>>Processsing_###########
Passcode Accepted.
Welcome M4NT!$
Before the incandescent and mysterious bright glow of the litany of regular sized flatscreen monitors that flanked both sides and lit the room in a dim green haze, fingers vigorously typing away upon her keyboard, rather her key to everything in the whole world, sat Nora, her eyes bloodshot and her hair a rather unkempt and tattered mess, not to mention her fingers feeling as though they would dislodge from her hands the moment she quit typing so damn quick. Having already received the mysterious letter from a man clad in black, she skipped any formalities and just went to her apartment, finishing up some last minute essentials, namely packing up her computer and the various other devices she utilized to shatter the security of the city into pieces, quite a fragile security system it was anyways. Even a script-kiddie could disassemble such a simplistic set up. One of her hands continued to type as another reached for the lit cigarette that rested smoldering in the ash tray upon her desk, bringing it to her lips and glowing red amidst the dimness of her abode as she took a drag, carelessly flicking ashes aside instead of in the tray, a smirk upon her lips breathing a ghostly miasma of cigarette smoke as her tired eyes beheld three...simple...letters:
NSA
Finally, after a few long minutes and a few cigarettes later, Nora was able to crack her very own safe, the safe which contained what was unrightfully hers, the most highly valued information only the most prominent and prestige of hackers could ever access, and certainly her clients would pay top dollar for this priceless intel. A rather satisfied and smug grin crossed the hacker's lips as she felt a sense of accomplishment had been made, though again it was not much of a daunting task for someone of her skill in the hacker community.
"Nice." In a bit of silent glee Nora whispered, another drag on her cigarette before snuffing it out and taking a swig of the half empty can of blue monster, her satisfied smile though twisting into a grimace at the disheartening taste of luke warm liquid seeping down her throat.
She heard a few voices chattering over the clicking and clattering of her computer keys and the constant electric drone of her processor and her monitors, garnering her attention to turn around in the ratty and misshapen swivel chair she sat in and face the old driftwood door marred with several scratches and dents, most of them covered up by the large black poster that was stuck to it with bent, rusty nails and thumbtacks, already ripped slightly in the lower left corner. That fucking drunk must be beating his wife again, Nora thought, and if so then he had better watch his back next time he meets Nora in the hallway. Standing from her chair and giving it a gentle push back to her desk, Nora snatched from the back of it the hooded black canvas jacket that was precariously hanging from it and threw it on over her black tanktop which had in bold, white letters FUCK YOU! with a skeletal hand underneath giving the finger, pulling the hood snug over her head and fishing from the pocket an extra pack of cigarettes. She stuck one between her lips and lit it before taking a slow drag and exhaling another haunting wisp of smoke into the thin air. Of course she didn't forget to download her most recent finds onto a flash drive and grab up her Walther as well, tucking it in her dark gray skinny jeans behind her back.
Nora could hear more voices as she made her way out into the cold winter morning of the Bronx, a den of loathsome thieves, misers, and modern day brigands. The cops were already on the prowl as a cruiser sped past her kicking up such a racket, the battle-cry of justice....or supposed justice being a blanket term for brutality and oppression, while gunshots sounded in the distance. Nora was kinda expecting that of a place that looked like Birmingham after the Luftwaffe stormed through, seeing as she and the rest of these outcasts were among burned ruins of riots during the seventies and eighties, gang wars, and drug busts, all in a city that barely gave a shit about any of them. The streets, cluttered and trashy, smelling of garbage with a hint of rotting corpse. Blunt and emotionless Nora walked down the street to a bus stop, her destination, Manhattan.
Afterwards, she had met the mysterious man once more at an undisclosed location, none to surprised of the James Bond cliches she rolled her eyes at before following the path towards the large and quite lavish meeting room.
She sat down in the chair farthest from the group, slipping from the front pocket of her hoodie a seemingly normal iPhone, but what lied beyond the cracked and scuffed screen of this, in more recent terms, dinosaur of technology was an impressive amount of modified circuitry and hardware, not to mention some powerful software, that could grab New York by the balls with a swipe of the wrist. It was a gift to her from an old acquaintance, a renegade hacker and anarchist such as her, known only by his handle in the community as P35t1l3Nc3 or for the illiterate in leet, Pestilence. Nora was the one who gave him the handle, mostly because he reeked half the time she visited his apartment and it was infested with cockroaches.
What looked like some punk college kid playing a rousing and monotonous game of Flappy Bird was actually a skilled and often dangerous cyber-criminal, now skimming through some very confidential files pilfered from under the nose of one Richter Howard. Damn....wouldn't his debutante wife love to see all that Nora had seized from the hardrive of her unfaithful husband's laptop. She bet the bitch would have a couple of questions concerning all those filthy emails and nude pics of under-aged girls. Fucking sicko....
stickman No sticky situations
Member
Seen
8 yrs ago
"Good morning, mister Morales."
"Mornin'" The Mexican replied. He had picked up the phone more out of reflex than of something else. He remembered calling the wake-up service, but he didn't know they would call this soon. The receptionist, Nadine, a clever brunette in her late twenties, started talking about the time and the weather. After that she started about the headlines in the newspapers and asked me if I wanted to see one or more papers for stock market indexes and what not. "No, Nadine, just something to eat." Morales said just before ordering breakfast.
After about twenty minutes Javier had showered and breakfast had been rolled in. A little after 9 Javier Morales walked out of his room, all dressed and groomed. The expensive navy blue suit hiding a holster and a 9 mm and the pretty face hiding malicious intent. Javier was in New York city already, he had been there for some days. The tickets would've only brought him to the big apple yesterday late in the afternoon. Morales needed to take care of some business first and came early. It had been pure business and not a profitable one. Helping friends from times long past was annoying. Most of the people in the military had spit him out of the discharge, but this one had proven a valuable contact. That was finished now. The next thing to do was follow the instruction on the letter Morales had received. A black towncar was waiting for him when he exited the hotel.
Morales had tried to get some more information about the location, the organization and the valuation of this offer. Most of his sources had however been quiet. One had told him that it was run by an old lady form Canada, the rest of the contacts had been silent as the grave. The way things had been set up gave Javier enough reason to go along with the letter. Everything seemed legit and things were planned.
After a short ride Javier's car pulled up to an abandoned building. A man was waiting a the building entrance. The man excused himself for the inconvenience his organization had caused. "No worries," Javier replied, "I'm here now, shall we?" And they entered the building. After, dios mio, a lot of scans, and more scans, Javier was allowed to enter what seemed to be the main room. He was the second person in the room. He and some Goth kid... "Afternoon." Javier said as he nodded to the girl, "So, how do you do and what do you do?". After that he looked around the room a bit and sat down within earshot of the black swan. Morales's was expecting more people.
Polyphemus They/ Them
Member
Seen
2 yrs ago
"Kayfabe, Tim," the big man said to himself in the cracked motel mirror. His thick fingers struggled clumsily with the cheap tie. "Gotta stay in character. The quiet heel." He nodded to himself as he finally managed to make some semblance of a Windsor not, pulled his collar back down. He stepped back out into the room- it was a poor one, but it was a quiet and anonymous part of Staten Island. He definitely wanted to keep things hush-hush.
As he pulled on the tent-like blazer, he reflected on the whirlwind of the previous few days. First a note given to him at his apartment in Boston. He had assumed it had been Mr. Regan at first, the head of the city's Irish Mob had a touch of the theatrical to him.
But this hadn't been Regan. This was something different. Something bigger.
And now McThing found himself in New York City. He wasn't sure why.
And so the big man checked out of the motel, walked out into the street, hailed a taxi. The car sank down on its suspension as he climbed in. McThing didn't notice. He was used to it. Instead, he kept focused on the task at hand as he gave the driver an address a block away from the meetup.
This could easily be a trap. Get him to come to a strange city, away from friends and connections. But who? The FBI? Was Regan getting called up on RICO charges? Was McThing about to be leaned on for testimony? Didn't make any sense, though. He was way too low in the food chain. All McThing did was beat people up and lift heavy objects. He did it damn well, but the feds wouldn't waste their time on him.
So maybe this job or whatever was for real. In which case a whole new world was about to open up.
At any rate, there wasn't much McThing could do from the inside of this taxi, so he just sat back and enjoyed the long ride into Manhattan. On reaching his destination, he carelessly overtipped the driver and walked the remaining distance to where he had been told the rendezvous would be made. It was a nice enough day. Might as well walk.
The address proved to be yet another dilapidated warehouse, probably unused for years. The man waiting for him inside was either the fellow who had come to Boston or his identical twin. McThing was met with a small nod and a clearly rehearsed invitation to follow. Fully in character now, McThing did little more than arch an eyebrow on being led down an underground stairway- clearly newer and better maintained than the building above it. He wondered exactly how this construction had been carried out as he was shown into some kind of conference room.
There was a handful of people already there, as well as a place setting marked McMurphy- he wished his professional name had been used instead. He said nothing to the others, merely sat down in the chair and hearing it creak and sag beneath his huge weight. McThing stared wordlessly at each other person in the room in turn. An open challenge.
As he pulled on the tent-like blazer, he reflected on the whirlwind of the previous few days. First a note given to him at his apartment in Boston. He had assumed it had been Mr. Regan at first, the head of the city's Irish Mob had a touch of the theatrical to him.
But this hadn't been Regan. This was something different. Something bigger.
And now McThing found himself in New York City. He wasn't sure why.
And so the big man checked out of the motel, walked out into the street, hailed a taxi. The car sank down on its suspension as he climbed in. McThing didn't notice. He was used to it. Instead, he kept focused on the task at hand as he gave the driver an address a block away from the meetup.
This could easily be a trap. Get him to come to a strange city, away from friends and connections. But who? The FBI? Was Regan getting called up on RICO charges? Was McThing about to be leaned on for testimony? Didn't make any sense, though. He was way too low in the food chain. All McThing did was beat people up and lift heavy objects. He did it damn well, but the feds wouldn't waste their time on him.
So maybe this job or whatever was for real. In which case a whole new world was about to open up.
At any rate, there wasn't much McThing could do from the inside of this taxi, so he just sat back and enjoyed the long ride into Manhattan. On reaching his destination, he carelessly overtipped the driver and walked the remaining distance to where he had been told the rendezvous would be made. It was a nice enough day. Might as well walk.
The address proved to be yet another dilapidated warehouse, probably unused for years. The man waiting for him inside was either the fellow who had come to Boston or his identical twin. McThing was met with a small nod and a clearly rehearsed invitation to follow. Fully in character now, McThing did little more than arch an eyebrow on being led down an underground stairway- clearly newer and better maintained than the building above it. He wondered exactly how this construction had been carried out as he was shown into some kind of conference room.
There was a handful of people already there, as well as a place setting marked McMurphy- he wished his professional name had been used instead. He said nothing to the others, merely sat down in the chair and hearing it creak and sag beneath his huge weight. McThing stared wordlessly at each other person in the room in turn. An open challenge.
Fabricant451 Queen of Hearts
Member
Seen
24 hrs ago
40,000 feet above, en route to New York
"Shit."
The slim cylinder of paper and tobacco dropped from inbetween slender fingers to fall into the puddle of toilet water, extinguishing the small flame that had been burning. Ryan shakes her right hand, ashes sliding off her fingers to the ground below. Her fault, really, her mind had been wandering as it so often did when on an airplane, what else did one do to combat the boredom than get lost in their own mile-a-minute thoughts? Ryan was well aware of the risks involved with smoking on an airplane, a fine and handcuffs upon landing was just the tip of an iceburg; either way it was a risk she needed to take. It had been hours since her last cigarette, and that was too long a period.
It didn't help matters that the person she was sat next to was one of those old people who liked to make conversation about their lives, as if they took inspiration from Forrest Gump and the airplane is their new bus stop bench. There was a limit to how engaged a person could pretend to be, and even Ryan, noted for almost saint-like patience when conversing with people in love with their own voice, couldn't stand more than a few minutes next to them. Let alone two and a half hours.
The only thing Ryan wanted to do on the flight, other than sneak a cigarette - that had gone so well - was to have a drink - perhaps a glass of vodka poured from those fancy small glasses - and then to sleep; after engaging the flight attendant in mild conversation of course, to act the part. There were three flight attendants, but only one that mattered, the one that took care of Ryan's section of the plane. She had been in this field for ten years now, never married, no children, a love of travel got her in the door and having no other goals in life kept her there. And that was just information Ryan was able to get when asking for a pillow earlier.
People were easy. For the most part they're just happy to have someone listen and smile and nod. It was smoking in the bathroom of an airplane, that was the hard part.
"Miss? Miss, are you alright?" A knocking at the door, the saccharine voice of Sam the flight attendant. "We'll be landing shortly, you need to return to your seat." The voice sounded through the door. Good. She didn't smell smoke. Not yet.
"How much longer, Sam?" Ryan called back, putting on her friendly voice. That was good, Ryan was friends with this flight attendant now. The voice is such an easy tool, so handy in subtle manipulations.
"Forty five minutes, says the captain."
"Still time left for the mile high club, Sam." As Ryan said that, she grabbed at the silver ring on her right pinky finger, looking herself over in the mirror as she did so.
"Miss?" Sam's response was expected, but it was less confusion in the tone and more consideration.
It didn't matter anyway, Ryan flushed the ruined cigarette and opened the door back out into the flight. "Don't worry about it." Ryan smirked at the still confused Sam, giving the flight attendant a quick touch on the shoulder before returning to her seat to hear about grandkids and the Vietnam war or something equally as pointless. At least they were landing soon.
~
New York
"That's bad for your health, you know."
A trail of smoke wafted into the air as Ryan blew out another drag before tossing the cigarette over the balcony railing to the ground below. Irresponsible perhaps, but what difference would it make really. It was nice to be able to enjoy a cigarette without fear of making headlines. So sensitive over matters of airplanes, these people were.
But it was true. Cigarettes were bad for her health. And yet, Ryan couldn't care less. There war far more dangerous things out there, things that could kill you much faster. And Ryan would know. Stepping back into the hotel room, Ryan said nothing as she checked her watch and headed towards the door, grabbing her blazer from the chair it was draped over. Now it was time for business.
"You're leaving? Are you serious right now?"
"Don't want to miss your flight." Ryan's parting words. She'd slip her blazer on in the elevator.
Outside, in the cool Manhattan air, Ryan lit up another cigarette and started walking. New York was a shithole. She missed her shithole. She missed Chicago, where the people weren't so fake and there was a constant danger looming in the air. And the pizza was better. New York was a shithole. Her destination was in walking distance, and even if it wasn't, Ryan liked to walk the sidewalks in the urban areas. It was perfect for listening to life.
Ryan drew her hat low, obscuring her eyes, when she entered the abandoned building and was led forward by the man in black. Of course he was in black. Bad guys always wore black in the movies. And no doubt about it, the man was not a good guy. The door opened and the first thing Ryan took note of was the three others already in the room.
"Tony Montana, Casey Ryback, and Acid Burn walk into a bar..." Ryan muses, just loud enough so the others could hear before stepping towards the furthest wall to lean against, hat still pulled low.
"Shit."
The slim cylinder of paper and tobacco dropped from inbetween slender fingers to fall into the puddle of toilet water, extinguishing the small flame that had been burning. Ryan shakes her right hand, ashes sliding off her fingers to the ground below. Her fault, really, her mind had been wandering as it so often did when on an airplane, what else did one do to combat the boredom than get lost in their own mile-a-minute thoughts? Ryan was well aware of the risks involved with smoking on an airplane, a fine and handcuffs upon landing was just the tip of an iceburg; either way it was a risk she needed to take. It had been hours since her last cigarette, and that was too long a period.
It didn't help matters that the person she was sat next to was one of those old people who liked to make conversation about their lives, as if they took inspiration from Forrest Gump and the airplane is their new bus stop bench. There was a limit to how engaged a person could pretend to be, and even Ryan, noted for almost saint-like patience when conversing with people in love with their own voice, couldn't stand more than a few minutes next to them. Let alone two and a half hours.
The only thing Ryan wanted to do on the flight, other than sneak a cigarette - that had gone so well - was to have a drink - perhaps a glass of vodka poured from those fancy small glasses - and then to sleep; after engaging the flight attendant in mild conversation of course, to act the part. There were three flight attendants, but only one that mattered, the one that took care of Ryan's section of the plane. She had been in this field for ten years now, never married, no children, a love of travel got her in the door and having no other goals in life kept her there. And that was just information Ryan was able to get when asking for a pillow earlier.
People were easy. For the most part they're just happy to have someone listen and smile and nod. It was smoking in the bathroom of an airplane, that was the hard part.
"Miss? Miss, are you alright?" A knocking at the door, the saccharine voice of Sam the flight attendant. "We'll be landing shortly, you need to return to your seat." The voice sounded through the door. Good. She didn't smell smoke. Not yet.
"How much longer, Sam?" Ryan called back, putting on her friendly voice. That was good, Ryan was friends with this flight attendant now. The voice is such an easy tool, so handy in subtle manipulations.
"Forty five minutes, says the captain."
"Still time left for the mile high club, Sam." As Ryan said that, she grabbed at the silver ring on her right pinky finger, looking herself over in the mirror as she did so.
"Miss?" Sam's response was expected, but it was less confusion in the tone and more consideration.
It didn't matter anyway, Ryan flushed the ruined cigarette and opened the door back out into the flight. "Don't worry about it." Ryan smirked at the still confused Sam, giving the flight attendant a quick touch on the shoulder before returning to her seat to hear about grandkids and the Vietnam war or something equally as pointless. At least they were landing soon.
~
New York
"That's bad for your health, you know."
A trail of smoke wafted into the air as Ryan blew out another drag before tossing the cigarette over the balcony railing to the ground below. Irresponsible perhaps, but what difference would it make really. It was nice to be able to enjoy a cigarette without fear of making headlines. So sensitive over matters of airplanes, these people were.
But it was true. Cigarettes were bad for her health. And yet, Ryan couldn't care less. There war far more dangerous things out there, things that could kill you much faster. And Ryan would know. Stepping back into the hotel room, Ryan said nothing as she checked her watch and headed towards the door, grabbing her blazer from the chair it was draped over. Now it was time for business.
"You're leaving? Are you serious right now?"
"Don't want to miss your flight." Ryan's parting words. She'd slip her blazer on in the elevator.
Outside, in the cool Manhattan air, Ryan lit up another cigarette and started walking. New York was a shithole. She missed her shithole. She missed Chicago, where the people weren't so fake and there was a constant danger looming in the air. And the pizza was better. New York was a shithole. Her destination was in walking distance, and even if it wasn't, Ryan liked to walk the sidewalks in the urban areas. It was perfect for listening to life.
Ryan drew her hat low, obscuring her eyes, when she entered the abandoned building and was led forward by the man in black. Of course he was in black. Bad guys always wore black in the movies. And no doubt about it, the man was not a good guy. The door opened and the first thing Ryan took note of was the three others already in the room.
"Tony Montana, Casey Ryback, and Acid Burn walk into a bar..." Ryan muses, just loud enough so the others could hear before stepping towards the furthest wall to lean against, hat still pulled low.
Arriving at the JFK International Airport
After a long flight from the UK to the USA Kei was ready to get to whatever it was she was supposed to be doing at this mysterious Perfect Crime Inc. It wasn't the first time someone had hired her to steal something but the invitation made it sound like she was going to be employed for a while. The invitation itself was rather mysterious, a man in black handed her an envelope then disappeared. The whole thing made her feel like some kind of secret agent. She couldn't resist the offer if she tried. Any number of possibilities awaited her and the suspense was starting to make her anxious. She didn't let it show as she made her way through security though.
She looked like any other tourist travelling to New York to see the sights. Kei even made a point to wear an 'I ♥ NY' hoodie to look the part. Airport security let her through without a hitch and soon she found a taxi that would take her to the Ramada Inn to drop off her things. As if straight from a movie the taxi driver was middle eastern, barely spoke english (which was particularly frustrating as her own english was plagued by her thick japanese accent), and blared his ethnic music for the entire ride. Upon arrival the Ramada Inn she dropped her bags on the hotel room bed, changed quickly into some plain clothes that didn't scream 'I'm a tourist, please mug me', and left the 'Do not disturb' sign on the door to keep housekeeping from being nosy. There wasn't much in her bags outside of clothes and a laptop since most of her other gear wouldn't make it through customs. She made a mental note to call up the 'Colonel', an info broker she had worked with before, and ask him to find some one who could provide some new gear before she left.
Kei took another taxi to a location a block away from the meeting place and walked until she was met with a rather rundown looking warehouse. It was just the kind of place a secret agent would have hidden their spy base in, she thought as she approached the door. Upon entering she was met by the same man who had given her the invitation. She greeted him as best she could, "Good meeting again!" The man seemed unimpressed by her and led her through a series of ridiculously overcompensating security systems before she arrived at a room with a handful of other people already there waiting. None of them seemed particularly spy-like but then again, aren't spies supposed to not look like spies? Either way she introduced herself to the group. "Hello! I am Kusanagi Kei. Pleased to meet you."
Rusalka El Telefono Publico
Member
Seen
12 mos ago
Javier was allowed to enter what seemed to be the main room. He was the second person in the room. He and some Goth kid... "Afternoon." Javier said as he nodded to the girl, "So, how do you do and what do you do?". After that he looked around the room a bit and sat down within earshot of the black swan. Morales's was expecting more people.
Not much attention was paid to her surroundings, but even so she knew them well, if not better than the back of her hand with just a simple glimpse about the unoccupied and deathly quiet meeting room, save for the frail humming of the laptops left at their respected seats open to a login screen which Nora could have broken through in due time but decided to wait around and see what was up. To be truthful, she didn't count herself as...these sort of people. If by what she read in that bizarre letter was true, then certainly she was signed up already to join this nefarious sort of criminal masterminds handpicked from all walks of life, from the rich and the well-off to the poor and the downtrodden such as she. Well, she wouldn't be poor after this however, but the money was not the reason for the elusive Mantis to be cavorting with crooks of all kinds, for as before....she never counted herself as a crook.
Her cause was malicious, dangerous even to the well-being of others, but with a reputation for one of the most notorious cyber-criminals in the United States, or the world for that matter, what wasn't going to be dangerous? Yet given the severity, her agenda was simple, cause chaos, upset the status quo, kick up such a storm that would wash away the hypocrisy and the untruths of a government completely out of control, starting with NY and moving eventually towards DC, then possibly stretching all throughout the US until finally this blanket of Democracy the cowards hid behind collapsed and the truth be revealed to the people's eyes. Very well she knew the consequences of such, namely towards herself and towards others, but content she was with them.
A few hours had passed and none seemed to arrive yet. Nora decided to kill the time by switching her iPhone over to her music, slipping her earbuds in and bobbing her head quietly to Survivalism echoing through the tiny speakers and treating her ears to the tech-psycho bliss that was Nine Inch Nails.
Not too soon did the first verse of Reznor's vocals begin that Nora noticed another sit beside her like it was nothing, her eyes, cold and dark, trailing towards the middle aged man clad in sharp business attire, looking more to Nora like he belonged on Wall Street or JPMorgan Chase wearing that get up, but then again....the bankers and the money-men were just about as crooked as the crack-heads and the welfare mothers they pilfered their ill-gotten gain from, so maybe this guy did belong with this infamous sort. Perfect Crime Inc....what more perfect a crime than white collar.
Judging on the deep complexion of melanin, the overall face structure and other physical traits, not to mention the accent American but with a certain tinge to it, Nora easily deduced he was of Hispanic descent, and given New York...he was likely Puerto Rican.
When he asked who she was and what she did however, she only had one answer for him, "Who I am and what I do...is none of your fucking business..." All the while she paid him no further mind, fiddling about with her iPhone yet pausing when she heard the man's phone sound in his pocket. "You got a message by the way.... Might wanna check it...Senor Morales...or should I say...Corporal?"
The message in question was of no text, but an image that would explain all to Javier the moment he laid eyes upon it...and what it had done to every bit of his information he kept guarded within such a cheap and easily cracked security program. That image was a disturbing .gif of a large, green praying mantis wearing a gas mask and twitching schizophrenically, and the cryptic message written in blood red:
ALWAYS HUNGERS....NEVER STARVES...
But the beauty of the .gif....was it was infected with a special virus programmed by the namesake herself to swipe out every bit of Javier's valuable intel, forward it safely to an encrypted folder on her own device, and then finally crash his beyond repair. Twas as she put it. Once the mantis had her prey...nothing would be left.
Afterwards, she went back to her music, not even caring to say hi to the others who made their way in, even the ditz in the trilby calling Cypher Acid Burn or the Japanese girl speaking perfect engrish and living the stereotype down to a T. Nary a glance even paid to the other man in a suit.(McThing)
Too bad...Nora didn't think there'd be some dress code to follow.
stickman No sticky situations
Member
Seen
8 yrs ago
After Javier had posed his question a few seconds passed. When he started to check out the room the reply came.
The twig-like girl didn't even look up from her phone or his way when talking to him. Apparently she was a bit antisocial. And suddenly his phone went off. Well, this is weird... How does that little thing know my name. Javier got the HTC smartphone out of his inside suit pocket. He unlocked the phone and at that moment a moving picture of a mantis flew on the screen. Always hungers, never starves? So this was her, the bug, the phone, the cybercriminal. Then his phone probably was useless now. As soon as the screen turned blue Javier knew enough. He took the phone in his right hand and threw it against a wall as hard as he could. Upon hitting the wall, the phone shattered. Getting rid of the bug and potential other bugs twiggy had likely installed. What was this girl trying to do? Was this her form of introduction?
"So it is you!" Javier started trying to make eye contact with the woman, "Congratulations on your promotion, number 26 already. I always had great admiration for your type of people. I couldn't stare at a screen all day if it had tits." He then paused a second, "Also, if you want to scare someone, don't sent them a picture of a bug. Bugs are small and easy to step on. Most, if not all, bugs can be crushed quite easily, gas-mask or not. And I have to ask, was that you? The attack on the embassy in Kopenhagen?" Javier wasn't even expecting a reply. She might be able to do tech, he was able to do information.
Before any reply could be made a hulking mass of a man walked into the room. It seemed that the man wasn't entirely in his element. The choice of suit seemed to better suit a kid that just finished college. Although, the college kid would need that suit a couple of sizes smaller. Dios mio, what was that man large. As he stomped his way to his seat and took it and looked up. He tried making eyecontact with the hacker to Javier's right at first. She's not even going to notice him with the noise coming from her headphones. After that his gaze shifted from twiggy to Javier. Javier wasn't sure, was this man trying to intimidate him or didn't he know what to do? Morales went on the friendly tour and lifted his hand from the armrest, "Afternoon." After the new face with the re-set nose another new face came in, this one way better looking.
"Would you at least give me Michael Corleone? I don't do cocaine." Javier replied, waving his hand in the aire more slightly annoyed than anything else. This girl with the hat, the pretty face and the light tan looked almost pure. Comparing her with Cheap Suit was like comparing a classic Rolls Royce with a semi-trailer truck. The first one had curves, the second one was a square. Javier didn't think he ever met the two new faces. Then a familiar face walked in.
"Kei-Chan," the Mexican spoke friendly and with a smile, "It's been a while, how have you been? Still taking those pictures? I unfortunately lost all my pictures earlier today." pointing a the small pile of broken phone near the wall. He and the burglar had worked together previously and were still on somewhat friendly terms.
When he asked who she was and what she did however, she only had one answer for him, "Who I am and what I do...is none of your fucking business..." All the while she paid him no further mind, fiddling about with her iPhone yet pausing when she heard the man's phone sound in his pocket. "You got a message by the way.... Might wanna check it...Senor Morales...or should I say...Corporal?"
The twig-like girl didn't even look up from her phone or his way when talking to him. Apparently she was a bit antisocial. And suddenly his phone went off. Well, this is weird... How does that little thing know my name. Javier got the HTC smartphone out of his inside suit pocket. He unlocked the phone and at that moment a moving picture of a mantis flew on the screen. Always hungers, never starves? So this was her, the bug, the phone, the cybercriminal. Then his phone probably was useless now. As soon as the screen turned blue Javier knew enough. He took the phone in his right hand and threw it against a wall as hard as he could. Upon hitting the wall, the phone shattered. Getting rid of the bug and potential other bugs twiggy had likely installed. What was this girl trying to do? Was this her form of introduction?
"So it is you!" Javier started trying to make eye contact with the woman, "Congratulations on your promotion, number 26 already. I always had great admiration for your type of people. I couldn't stare at a screen all day if it had tits." He then paused a second, "Also, if you want to scare someone, don't sent them a picture of a bug. Bugs are small and easy to step on. Most, if not all, bugs can be crushed quite easily, gas-mask or not. And I have to ask, was that you? The attack on the embassy in Kopenhagen?" Javier wasn't even expecting a reply. She might be able to do tech, he was able to do information.
Before any reply could be made a hulking mass of a man walked into the room. It seemed that the man wasn't entirely in his element. The choice of suit seemed to better suit a kid that just finished college. Although, the college kid would need that suit a couple of sizes smaller. Dios mio, what was that man large. As he stomped his way to his seat and took it and looked up. He tried making eyecontact with the hacker to Javier's right at first. She's not even going to notice him with the noise coming from her headphones. After that his gaze shifted from twiggy to Javier. Javier wasn't sure, was this man trying to intimidate him or didn't he know what to do? Morales went on the friendly tour and lifted his hand from the armrest, "Afternoon." After the new face with the re-set nose another new face came in, this one way better looking.
"Tony Montana, Casey Ryback, and Acid Burn walk into a bar..." Ryan muses, just loud enough so the others could hear before stepping towards the furthest wall to lean against, hat still pulled low.
"Would you at least give me Michael Corleone? I don't do cocaine." Javier replied, waving his hand in the aire more slightly annoyed than anything else. This girl with the hat, the pretty face and the light tan looked almost pure. Comparing her with Cheap Suit was like comparing a classic Rolls Royce with a semi-trailer truck. The first one had curves, the second one was a square. Javier didn't think he ever met the two new faces. Then a familiar face walked in.
"Hello! I am Kusanagi Kei. Pleased to meet you."
"Kei-Chan," the Mexican spoke friendly and with a smile, "It's been a while, how have you been? Still taking those pictures? I unfortunately lost all my pictures earlier today." pointing a the small pile of broken phone near the wall. He and the burglar had worked together previously and were still on somewhat friendly terms.
- It all had seemed to be happening faster that he would want but it was no stopping now, it was time to find out what this was all about. The long from TX to NY had been a long and exhausting one but they had finally arrived. The squealing of the old brake pads could be heard bouncing of the sides of the building as the black ford focus comes to a complete stop outside of the chosen destination. The area seemed abit shady for the most part but it wasn’t anything that Cameron hadn’t been used to. A tightly rolled, marijuana filled cigar was removed from his thick lips a cloud of bubblegum scented smoke continues to uphold the fragrance contained inside the vehicle. While his left hand held his sweetly smelled addiction, his right hand was concealed underneath the passenger seat, only to remove a brown paper bag that had been handed to the driver. “ Don’t spend it all in one place dig??” Cameron says before he opens the passenger door and steps out into the noisy streets of NY. His attire consisted of a semi loose leather jacket that covered and all white t-shirt, which compensated the baggy blue jeans and all white sneakers that covered his lower parts. -c-
-Concealed and snugly tucked within his waistband was a snub nosed .38 special, it wasn’t the first time he had been in a situation like this before and from past history it was always good to have a little backup in sticky situations. With the door being closed and the driver pulling away, Cameron takes another drag from his cigar before he removes the envelope from his jacket pocket, scanning the details of the letter and matching the address. The inhaled smoke had finally been released as Cameron makes his way inside the building, only to see the man in black once again. He was then directed towards a concealed passage, in which he followed, only to find that he hadn’t been the only one that received the mysterious message. He had stepped inside the room with a half dozen of what looked to be comic book characters, sketchy-ness at it’s finest in his opinion. Taking his designated seat, he allows his eye’s to scan the room once again, before replacing his cigar to his lips and taking in another drag.-e-
-Concealed and snugly tucked within his waistband was a snub nosed .38 special, it wasn’t the first time he had been in a situation like this before and from past history it was always good to have a little backup in sticky situations. With the door being closed and the driver pulling away, Cameron takes another drag from his cigar before he removes the envelope from his jacket pocket, scanning the details of the letter and matching the address. The inhaled smoke had finally been released as Cameron makes his way inside the building, only to see the man in black once again. He was then directed towards a concealed passage, in which he followed, only to find that he hadn’t been the only one that received the mysterious message. He had stepped inside the room with a half dozen of what looked to be comic book characters, sketchy-ness at it’s finest in his opinion. Taking his designated seat, he allows his eye’s to scan the room once again, before replacing his cigar to his lips and taking in another drag.-e-
Rusalka El Telefono Publico
Member
Seen
12 mos ago
"So it is you!" Javier started trying to make eye contact with the woman, "Congratulations on your promotion, number 26 already. I always had great admiration for your type of people. I couldn't stare at a screen all day if it had tits." He then paused a second, "Also, if you want to scare someone, don't sent them a picture of a bug. Bugs are small and easy to step on. Most, if not all, bugs can be crushed quite easily, gas-mask or not. And I have to ask, was that you? The attack on the embassy in Kopenhagen?" Javier wasn't even expecting a reply. She might be able to do tech, he was able to do information.
Nora didn't flinch once, even as the pissed off hispanic chucked his phone against the wall like a ten year old throwing a tantrum. No, the only reaction to that was a light smirk before her lips returned to her cynical glower. If he would have just asked kindly, Nora maybe wouldn't mind debugging his corrupted hard-drive....maybe. And even if she did, that information he held on the little HTC was hers now. Not even a reaction to the man discovering her identity through her little trick, though a bit of gratitude for him acknowledging her celebrity status. "I'm actually a little ashamed. Figured I would at least be in the top twenty." Still not everyday some skinny high-school dropout from the Bronx makes a syndicated list of so called cyberterrorists, ranked up there with Anonymous, a few North Korean kids who cracked Sony, and anyone else who thought they were God behind their processors and plexiglass screens. As for the crack about the bug, "Have you ever tried to step on a mantis before, Corporal? A mantis is swift. Before your foot hits the ground, they are already crawling up your leg. They are hunters, murderers of the insect world. They won't stop at nothing until their prey is devoured.....and their hunger....it's insatiable."
"Besides....it was this little bug that single-handedly destroyed the Prime Minister of Denmark and his cabinet after exposing their human trafficking scandal, and sent the whole country in an uproar. And last I recall...this bug...also gave you the information on those four Marines that went missing in Kuwait after a supposed "mishap" at an oil refinery south of the Persian Gulf. And you still wanted to serve this country...."
"Kei-Chan," the Mexican spoke friendly and with a smile, "It's been a while, how have you been? Still taking those pictures? I unfortunately lost all my pictures earlier today." pointing a the small pile of broken phone near the wall. He and the burglar had worked together previously and were still on somewhat friendly terms.
Nora didn't flinch once, even as the pissed off hispanic chucked his phone against the wall like a ten year old throwing a tantrum. No, the only reaction to that was a light smirk before her lips returned to her cynical glower. If he would have just asked kindly, Nora maybe wouldn't mind debugging his corrupted hard-drive....maybe. And even if she did, that information he held on the little HTC was hers now. Not even a reaction to the man discovering her identity through her little trick, though a bit of gratitude for him acknowledging her celebrity status. "I'm actually a little ashamed. Figured I would at least be in the top twenty." Still not everyday some skinny high-school dropout from the Bronx makes a syndicated list of so called cyberterrorists, ranked up there with Anonymous, a few North Korean kids who cracked Sony, and anyone else who thought they were God behind their processors and plexiglass screens. As for the crack about the bug, "Have you ever tried to step on a mantis before, Corporal? A mantis is swift. Before your foot hits the ground, they are already crawling up your leg. They are hunters, murderers of the insect world. They won't stop at nothing until their prey is devoured.....and their hunger....it's insatiable."
"Besides....it was this little bug that single-handedly destroyed the Prime Minister of Denmark and his cabinet after exposing their human trafficking scandal, and sent the whole country in an uproar. And last I recall...this bug...also gave you the information on those four Marines that went missing in Kuwait after a supposed "mishap" at an oil refinery south of the Persian Gulf. And you still wanted to serve this country...."
Just as Kei was about to ask the Corporal not to address her so casually the girl on her phone spoke up and the conversation suddenly became a bit tense. It was obvious that the hacker girl had not made a good impression with the 'Corporal'. Kei felt a bit like a third wheel being dragged through a muddy road so she chimed in. "All of us are here for same reason. Better to be friends, you think?" She wasn't quite sure what the hacker girl had done to Corporal's phone but she was clearly flaunting her skills. At least she sounded like she was good at what she does. The girl seemed less like a Mantis and more like a Peacock at this point but Kei hardly knew her so it wasn't fair to judge her so readily. Kei quietly reached in her pocket and discreetly shut off her phone just to be safe.
Polyphemus They/ Them
Member
Seen
2 yrs ago
The meeting was certainly tumultuous, to say the least. McThing sat placidly in his chair, waiting until he was needed or addressed, simply sizing up the others. The Hispanic man gave him a polite greeting, and McThing nodded in response, saying nothing. He wasn't sure what to make of the man, especially once he hurled his mobile against the wall so hard as to smash it. The woman had done something to his phone, true, but that hardly seemed like a proportionate response. McThing had broken plenty of expensive electronics in his time, but usually they belonged to someone else, someone who needed either encouragement or discouragement. This man might be one to keep an eye on.
They were joined in the room by others, a couple of pretty women and another man, by the look of him perhaps a little more street-level than the others. This last man might be the closest one to McThing's level, and so the giant favored him with a small nod.
He continued to sit quietly in his designated place, though his eyes kept drifting to the laptop computer placed at each seat at the table. Vaguely, McThing wondered what those were about.
They were joined in the room by others, a couple of pretty women and another man, by the look of him perhaps a little more street-level than the others. This last man might be the closest one to McThing's level, and so the giant favored him with a small nod.
He continued to sit quietly in his designated place, though his eyes kept drifting to the laptop computer placed at each seat at the table. Vaguely, McThing wondered what those were about.
GM
InfernoBlaze Whiskyholic
Member
Seen
6 yrs ago
The conversations in the main room where stopped by the sudden turning on of the screen on the wall. What appeared was a simple light blue font with a black figure in the middle of it. The image did not give off any hint or information about the person that appeared on the screen, not his gender, his age, his physical appearance, nothing. His voice was also changed, making it indisdinguishable. From the speakers on the screen, a voice, which was probably the man's on the screen, said:
"Ladies and gentlemen, please sit..."
The voice gave the group sometime to take their seats, but, apparently, it wasn't nescessary for everyone to do so, since the voice continued speaking regardless.
"Greetings. I am the owner of the invitation that was sent to you and also your benefactor, X! I am glad that you responded to my invitation, despite the risks that ran with it. Being invited to an abandoned building, considering your statuses, could easily be an ambush, so I can sincerely say that I respect your courage, even more so for the younger ones of the group.
As the note said, the purpose of gathering you here is to create a team that is going to commit illegal acts of outstanding magnitude! I assure you that, in this facility, you are provided with all the equipment you deem nescessary for executing your missions, since there are parties with enough financial power that support your activities, for their own interests!
Every crime you succesfully commit will reward you with the sum of 50 million dollars, all in a private, off-shore account, for which you are going to be given access individually later. Damage of the Perfect Crimes Inc.'s property will also not be deducted from your payments, including the equipment and vechicles. However, you are obliged to be a part of the Perfect Crimes Inc. for as long as the Corporation itself deems it nescessary, so, unless otherwise instructed, you will be not permitted to leave after a mission or two. Now take a look at your screens..."
The screen split up into multiple images that showed all the facilities of the Headquarters (you can find them in the OOC OP), along with the details about each of them. X also mentioned that there are similar Headquarters in every major city all around the world, for the sake of providing safehouses for the group. Then he continued:
"Now, here is your first mission. One of the interested parties that support your group has interests in the Israeli-Palestinian conflict and, to be more specific, their interest sides with the Palestinians. That's why you are tasked with the simple act of assasinating the President, the Prime minister and the General of the National Defense forces of Israel.
Our intel gave us a tip that the Israel ambassador of the US is going to have a meeting with all three of the targets in ten days from now. The residence of the ambassador is (OOC Note: Purposely not specified, to avoid misunderstandings. Act as if you know the address and name it AddressXXX) and his personal security is consisted of three bodyguards that accompany him. That's all we have for now. Anything more you can find is up to you, so is your approach on the matter. This is no easy feat, but I am expecting nothing less from you! X out!"
With that the screen turned off and the doors that locked the others out of the other rooms opened.
"Ladies and gentlemen, please sit..."
The voice gave the group sometime to take their seats, but, apparently, it wasn't nescessary for everyone to do so, since the voice continued speaking regardless.
"Greetings. I am the owner of the invitation that was sent to you and also your benefactor, X! I am glad that you responded to my invitation, despite the risks that ran with it. Being invited to an abandoned building, considering your statuses, could easily be an ambush, so I can sincerely say that I respect your courage, even more so for the younger ones of the group.
As the note said, the purpose of gathering you here is to create a team that is going to commit illegal acts of outstanding magnitude! I assure you that, in this facility, you are provided with all the equipment you deem nescessary for executing your missions, since there are parties with enough financial power that support your activities, for their own interests!
Every crime you succesfully commit will reward you with the sum of 50 million dollars, all in a private, off-shore account, for which you are going to be given access individually later. Damage of the Perfect Crimes Inc.'s property will also not be deducted from your payments, including the equipment and vechicles. However, you are obliged to be a part of the Perfect Crimes Inc. for as long as the Corporation itself deems it nescessary, so, unless otherwise instructed, you will be not permitted to leave after a mission or two. Now take a look at your screens..."
The screen split up into multiple images that showed all the facilities of the Headquarters (you can find them in the OOC OP), along with the details about each of them. X also mentioned that there are similar Headquarters in every major city all around the world, for the sake of providing safehouses for the group. Then he continued:
"Now, here is your first mission. One of the interested parties that support your group has interests in the Israeli-Palestinian conflict and, to be more specific, their interest sides with the Palestinians. That's why you are tasked with the simple act of assasinating the President, the Prime minister and the General of the National Defense forces of Israel.
Our intel gave us a tip that the Israel ambassador of the US is going to have a meeting with all three of the targets in ten days from now. The residence of the ambassador is (OOC Note: Purposely not specified, to avoid misunderstandings. Act as if you know the address and name it AddressXXX) and his personal security is consisted of three bodyguards that accompany him. That's all we have for now. Anything more you can find is up to you, so is your approach on the matter. This is no easy feat, but I am expecting nothing less from you! X out!"
With that the screen turned off and the doors that locked the others out of the other rooms opened.
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