[IC] A Colder War

[BelatedGamer]

The smells were familiar to a spy as seasoned as you; those of stale smoke and nervous sweat. Nothing else is familiar though; not this helicopter you're in, not the two strangers who are handcuffed to their seats the same as you are, not the monotone accent your captors.

"We will be landing shortly." Your captors have communicated with you exclusively through electronic speakers.

They captured you with gas, about a week ago. In your own damn home no less.

"You will be released by the pilot, and he will provide you with supplies and your mission briefing."

From a window you can see that a jungle stretches endlessly beneath you, growing darker as the evening light fades.

"Speak with your fellow agents now, before you land. Team-work will be essential. Your deaths are necessary if you can not put aside petty national differences."

The speakers next words echo painfully in your head -- they have been repeated to you countless times since your capture, said by the same pre-recorded voice in every anonymous vehicle that has transported you:

"We are on your side."

[ArenaSnow]

“We are on your side…”

“Ah, shut it.” he said with a scowl that had been on his face for days.

The circumstances that had gotten him there in the first place were rather embarrassing. He walked in and couldn’t recall a thing after that. What had happened became quite obvious when he woke up handcuffed in a van with two other folks who he suspected were of similar stock; one who looked Russian and another American. Given the diversity of the group, we are on your side struck him as empty propaganda of a third party organization that certainly wasn’t affiliated with his mother country. He would only partake on this charade until he could glean information about the nature of this group and report back to his supervisor; who no doubt had tried to make contact by now, as his last mission was a good month ago.

He leaned his head back, sighed, and continued with his scowl.

[SuperTacticalDerp]

"We are on your side..."

"Don't bullshit me," Bruce replied as looked out into the jungle. "What side am I on exactly. I stole from and murdered Americans and I could give less about the Soviets or The Brits personally. I don't have a fucking side!"

He could barely contain the need to spit in his captor's face, or kicking him out the open heliporter door and strangle the pilot with his handcuffs. But that would be stupid. For now, he would play it dumb.

Give them a false sense of security and supremacy in the spotlight while Bruce had time to carve a shiv in the darkness. He was doing a horrible job doing it right now, but his temper was getting to the better of him.

They had grabbed him while he was taking a shower at his former place of residence. A shady downtown apartment in Terhan with enough escape routes that he could be heading towards the boarder in minutes. They had used some kind of knock-out gas, taking the advantage of him being in the nude and distracted with self-hygiene.

Before he could sing some shitty song while scrubbing away sand, he was down and being dragged out. When he awoke, he was wearing his favorite suit and the tie his mother had bought him for his first day at the State Deparment. He fucking hated it. He was with two others, faces he couldn't put a name too. He tried remembering old dossiers, but nothing popped up.

Bruce sighed. "Ok, so you guys know a lot about me. Good. Then you better know that there better be a large overseas bank account waiting for me after all of this."

[ArenaSnow]

I would be sad if the soviet character and driving force of the roleplay left on us...

[BelatedGamer]

You're jostled a bit as the helicopter lands, the jungle outside covered in darkness, and the roar of its blades slow and stop. A man walks between the three of you, south-american by the looks of it and covered in scars, but with a smile that stretches from ear to ear.

"Rise and shine babes, I've been told you have a job to do."

You hear him gather mucus at the back of his throat, and then he spits on the floor. He laughs.

"Hey, it ain't my copter. So here's how this works; I un-handcuff you, and I give you what I've been instructed to give you, and you get out. That's it. You'll be provided with a tape courtesy of our employers, and I'll leave. I doubt either of you know how to operate a helicopter but just in case you're thinking of trying anything -- don't bother. The thing's rigged to blow and only I know how to take off without that happening, and you'll be stuck in the middle of wherever-the-fuck this is on your own."

He saunters over to the Russian and pats his cheek, giggling when the soviet growls.

"Understand, babes?"