Member
Chronic
Izurich5km outside of Lwów, Poland. Agencja Wywiadu (Foreign Intelligence Agency) Headquarters
Drazenka let out a deep sigh, her chest heaving with every breath. "Stay calm... You can do this..." She muttered to herself, hands tightening around the trigger and forward grip of her weapon. It was a short, compact submachine gun -- designed to penetrate body armor -- standard issue for many AW agents such as herself. Even though women were not officially allowed into combat roles within the Slavic Union's armed forces, the intelligence services were a major exception, and made frequent use of female agents.AW were trained not only for infiltration, but a myriad of roles ranging from those of demolitions to long-range shooting. Being intelligence agents, of course, it was absolutely vital that they be ready for rapidly changing situations, regardless of tradition.
A very large number of AW agents were physically attractive, too; the AW selected many different varieties of agents, each one designed to appeal to a different person -- and make gathering intelligence from them without violence that much easier. Drazenka was a prime example of this behavior. Just over 172 tall, she was an ideal height for women, her musculature well-toned by years of military training -- and it showed, despite how buxom she was. If not for the conservative clothes that military uniforms demanded, the tone of her body would be incredibly impressive. She usually opted to hide her curves (except as required by assignment, of course), her breasts more than large and perky enough to make most women jealous. Thanks to her military training, though, her rear was no less impressive -- round and well toned.
Her amber eyes gazed upwards, watching as the caged red light flashed. It was only a few seconds before the exercise began.
"Three...." She thought to herself.
"Two...."
She took a deep breath, tightening her gloved hands around her weapon, a single finger moving to the shotgun mounted under the barrel. Under her gas mask, she grinned softly, eyes glinting with excitement. Her muscles tensed.
"One...." The light flashed green.
Drazenka immediately leaped into action, depressing the shotgun's trigger. A spray of buckshot rocketed outwards, slamming viciously into the door's latch, leaving it hanging from the splintered wood. She loaded in a second cartridge, and fired a second shot, instantly sending the latch flying from its mounting. After quickly checking her submachine gun, she wrapped her hand around the door's handle, turned it, and tossed the door open, immediately heading in afterwards. She snapped her sighs up to the left corner of her vision, unleashing a burst of bullets into the target, sending it careening to the ground. She wheeled to her right, fired a second burst at another target, and flashed a devilish grin before pressing her body against the wall next to the room's exit. After a quick peek through the door frame, she continued onwards, riddling target after target with bullets in room after room. Sweat dribbled down her brow as she approached the last room.
"Hostage." She grumbled under her breath, drilling bullets into the final target's skull. Almost instantly, a shrill buzz filled the room, and the caged light turned red. She slipped off her helmet, wiping sweat from her brow as a voice emerged over the speakers. "Well done, Special Agent." It said with a dry tone. "That completes your combat training for today."
Poznań, Poland.
Mateusz sighed, massaging his temples in frustration. "I swear, one of these days... This job is going to kill me." He groaned. He kicked his feet up and onto the top of his desk, leaning backwards. "Business is good, but... It's definitely not going to stay this way forever." Mateusz was the CEO os Poznan Engineering Works, one of the largest arms manufacturers and military R&D corporations in Poland. Most of the industry itself was privatized, rather than being controlled by the national government, although it was highly regulated. Mateusz himself, though, had an appearance that spoke to a special knack for business, and a sharp, learned intelligence that greatly benefitted his research. He was always, in public, almost always dressed in one of his many suits with a watch on his wrist. Mateusz was far older than most of his employees at fifty-five years old. Still, though, he was always sure to kept healthy, and certainly wasn't looking forward to giving up his company. It was his brainchild -- his own creation -- and he was the man that led it to success. Poznań Engineering Works (PEW) produced many products, from electronics to aircraft, but the industry they excelled most in was the arms industry. Whether it was a rifle or an APC, one of the many companies PEW had acquired could likely produce it. They were not a monopoly, but they were still the largest player in Poland's arms industry.
Mateusz sighed again, groaning as he rose to his feet and turned around. He took a few steps forward and looked out his office's window, and down onto the city below. "I can't give up yet, though. Places to be, things to do, people to meet. Same old, same old." He brushed his graying hair out of his blue eyes, looking upwards to an aircraft flying overhead. "The same old propeller aircraft, for the past few dozen years... How long will people be satisfied with the same technology? Jets are just too expensive to be feasible, but there -has- to be something else." Indeed, Mateusz was a strong believer in the power of air superiority, but a country with the size, population, and natural resources of the Slavic Union simply lacked the industrial strength to achieve it. Overburdened by immigrants and lacking a sufficiently large military to protect its land, the (former) government of Poland struggled constantly to keep afloat, as did its businessmen.
"We're surrounded on all sides by potential enemies... Prussia, Serbia, what remains of Russia -- and, at this rate, eventually China." He chuckled softly, sitting himself back down in his chair. "I suppose I should get back to work."
Drazenka let out a deep sigh, her chest heaving with every breath. "Stay calm... You can do this..." She muttered to herself, hands tightening around the trigger and forward grip of her weapon. It was a short, compact submachine gun -- designed to penetrate body armor -- standard issue for many AW agents such as herself. Even though women were not officially allowed into combat roles within the Slavic Union's armed forces, the intelligence services were a major exception, and made frequent use of female agents.AW were trained not only for infiltration, but a myriad of roles ranging from those of demolitions to long-range shooting. Being intelligence agents, of course, it was absolutely vital that they be ready for rapidly changing situations, regardless of tradition.
A very large number of AW agents were physically attractive, too; the AW selected many different varieties of agents, each one designed to appeal to a different person -- and make gathering intelligence from them without violence that much easier. Drazenka was a prime example of this behavior. Just over 172 tall, she was an ideal height for women, her musculature well-toned by years of military training -- and it showed, despite how buxom she was. If not for the conservative clothes that military uniforms demanded, the tone of her body would be incredibly impressive. She usually opted to hide her curves (except as required by assignment, of course), her breasts more than large and perky enough to make most women jealous. Thanks to her military training, though, her rear was no less impressive -- round and well toned.
Her amber eyes gazed upwards, watching as the caged red light flashed. It was only a few seconds before the exercise began.
"Three...." She thought to herself.
"Two...."
She took a deep breath, tightening her gloved hands around her weapon, a single finger moving to the shotgun mounted under the barrel. Under her gas mask, she grinned softly, eyes glinting with excitement. Her muscles tensed.
"One...." The light flashed green.
Drazenka immediately leaped into action, depressing the shotgun's trigger. A spray of buckshot rocketed outwards, slamming viciously into the door's latch, leaving it hanging from the splintered wood. She loaded in a second cartridge, and fired a second shot, instantly sending the latch flying from its mounting. After quickly checking her submachine gun, she wrapped her hand around the door's handle, turned it, and tossed the door open, immediately heading in afterwards. She snapped her sighs up to the left corner of her vision, unleashing a burst of bullets into the target, sending it careening to the ground. She wheeled to her right, fired a second burst at another target, and flashed a devilish grin before pressing her body against the wall next to the room's exit. After a quick peek through the door frame, she continued onwards, riddling target after target with bullets in room after room. Sweat dribbled down her brow as she approached the last room.
"Hostage." She grumbled under her breath, drilling bullets into the final target's skull. Almost instantly, a shrill buzz filled the room, and the caged light turned red. She slipped off her helmet, wiping sweat from her brow as a voice emerged over the speakers. "Well done, Special Agent." It said with a dry tone. "That completes your combat training for today."
Poznań, Poland.
Mateusz sighed, massaging his temples in frustration. "I swear, one of these days... This job is going to kill me." He groaned. He kicked his feet up and onto the top of his desk, leaning backwards. "Business is good, but... It's definitely not going to stay this way forever." Mateusz was the CEO os Poznan Engineering Works, one of the largest arms manufacturers and military R&D corporations in Poland. Most of the industry itself was privatized, rather than being controlled by the national government, although it was highly regulated. Mateusz himself, though, had an appearance that spoke to a special knack for business, and a sharp, learned intelligence that greatly benefitted his research. He was always, in public, almost always dressed in one of his many suits with a watch on his wrist. Mateusz was far older than most of his employees at fifty-five years old. Still, though, he was always sure to kept healthy, and certainly wasn't looking forward to giving up his company. It was his brainchild -- his own creation -- and he was the man that led it to success. Poznań Engineering Works (PEW) produced many products, from electronics to aircraft, but the industry they excelled most in was the arms industry. Whether it was a rifle or an APC, one of the many companies PEW had acquired could likely produce it. They were not a monopoly, but they were still the largest player in Poland's arms industry.
Mateusz sighed again, groaning as he rose to his feet and turned around. He took a few steps forward and looked out his office's window, and down onto the city below. "I can't give up yet, though. Places to be, things to do, people to meet. Same old, same old." He brushed his graying hair out of his blue eyes, looking upwards to an aircraft flying overhead. "The same old propeller aircraft, for the past few dozen years... How long will people be satisfied with the same technology? Jets are just too expensive to be feasible, but there -has- to be something else." Indeed, Mateusz was a strong believer in the power of air superiority, but a country with the size, population, and natural resources of the Slavic Union simply lacked the industrial strength to achieve it. Overburdened by immigrants and lacking a sufficiently large military to protect its land, the (former) government of Poland struggled constantly to keep afloat, as did its businessmen.
"We're surrounded on all sides by potential enemies... Prussia, Serbia, what remains of Russia -- and, at this rate, eventually China." He chuckled softly, sitting himself back down in his chair. "I suppose I should get back to work."