A Shipful of Dollars

Started by Lomari, April 08, 2019, 06:39:21 am


April 08, 2019, 06:39:21 am Last Edit: August 23, 2019, 07:39:52 pm by Lomari
Current Empress Crew Enter from SS Iscariot - Episode 1: New Beginnings

(And late to the party) Helena


Patrick "Tricky" O'Doyle snapped his fingers and clapped his hands together as he waltzed devil-may-care past the kitchen staff toward the stockroom where he'd enjoyed his private dinner just an hour or so before, and fired finger guns at the silent, thick-necked guards on either side of the entry as he two-stepped his way past. "You fellas are doin' excellent work tonight. I don't care what Mr. Jiyang says about you. Keep it up!" Tricky strutted his stuff around the table, now surrounded by a couple of shorts stools, some storage crates, and a tall, unfortunately empty, wooden keg. He always felt like showboating with a heist afoot. Perhaps it made things a bit too obvious, but he once heard that everyone has a tell. Not that he believed it, especially about himself.

Tricky slid up to Jiyang as he set the table for the meeting. "Love what you've done with the place! Paper lantern's a nice touch. Really sets the mood for... Well, you're not part of the plan after all. Oh! But if you would, do me a favor and get me a bottle of your finest Sake, a pitcher of margaritas, two bottles of fine wine - one red, one white. Let's say, a Shiraz and a Riesling. Dry. And no Merlot. If all you have is Merlot, you may as well pour it out. I'm joking! Don't waste wine. Oh, and some scotch. A lot of scotch. And some cheap beer. Not the cheapest. But pretty cheap. There's a guy out there drinking Mudder's Milk for cripes sake. I thought you were gonna talk to Reggie about serving that stuff? Oh, and get some of those dumplings. And some spicy ribs. Real pork. Real. Pork. Hey. I know that look, Jiyang!"

Trick run his thumb and forefinger over his mustache as Jiyang muttered something about rolling eggs in Cantonese and left the room. The showrunner then retrieved a scroll of rolled e-paper, took a final look at the plans, and tucked it away again. Returning to his seat, the only proper chair around the table, Patrick O'Doyle popped a cigarillo into his mouth, lit it with a match, took a shallow puff, and propped his polished boots up as he awaited his honored guests. Hopefully, Jiyang would have the drinks ready before they arrived.
And in the city it's a pity 'cause we just can't hide
Tinted windows don't mean nothin', they know who's inside

- RUN-DMC "It's Tricky"

Johann Krüger

Johann dragged Marty by the collar through the back doors and past the guards, no card flashing offered or necessary. "Lad. If you weren't particularly sozzled you'd've seen that sharpie from a mile away." He gave the kid a light, playful shove as they entered the meeting room, and regarded him fully. "Well, maybe not, but you should be smarter." To illustrate this, Johann jabbed a finger at his own temple. "Think, lad." Once he'd done what he considered his due diligence, Johann found that his beer was not waiting for him back here. About to say something to Trick, who was waiting for them, Jiyang appeared with it on a tray, accompanying a few other things that Johann guessed were requested by their fearless leader.

Even just thinking that phrase sarcastically stuck in Krüger's craw a little, but he swallowed it down. Tricky and he had a good arrangement and, for the time being, Johann would honor his part in it and let O'Doyle do the hard part. For now, it suited him.

"Thank you, Jiyang." He said, lifting his drink off the tray as it passed, and slapping Marty on the wrist when he reached for a refill. "Coffee." The look on Johann's face said more to Marty than his words did, and a quick glance to Jiyang cemented it. It was time for the racer to clear his head a bit.

That sorted, Johann picked a seat and took a load off, nodding to the rest as they entered one by one, and sipped on his beer.

Martin Miller

April 17, 2019, 04:33:44 pm #3 Last Edit: April 17, 2019, 04:35:19 pm by Martin Miller

The young wheel-man exclaimed as Johann literally dragged him in. He questioned Miller's intelligence and further impugned his would-be romantic pursuit and the pissed former purple belly made a face of shock and disbelief before considering that maybe he was right.

"What, mate?!"

Martin put his hands on his hips and before he could protest any further he reminded himself how wobbly he was and then he kinda scrunched his face and put his finger up to his nose.
"Aahhh go-se... You're probably right mate..."

Then his eyes lit up at the spread of drinks, his hand going for a beer to "slow down" it was immediately rejected by Kruger and he shook his hand and pulled it back. It didn't hurt that much but the surprise had him reacting rather viscerally.

"All right! Crikey..."

Marty sloppily climbed onto a stool and put his elbows up on the table, resting his face in his hands somewhat glumly. The party had suddenly stopped and he'd quite possibly come within an inch of losing his purse to some pretty grifter. After all, wasn't he supposed to be the grifter now? Now, suddenly quiet, he awaited Tricky's instructions. Whatever work there was to be had, he'd already gotten himself into something of a bind with his new crew. No matter how this shook out he'd come out looking like an arse.


She'd done it. She'd wrangled up the Demi-God and successfully led him here, to his destiny. Well, perhaps destiny was too grand a word. She'd led him to a gussied up storage room full of criminals. X thought on it a moment then nodded, smiling to herself and skipping into the room. No, destiny was right. X gracefully slipped around Jiyang and his tray of drinks. Quick as a whip she grabbed one of the drinks and winked at Marty before ducking and spinning away from Jiyang and moving around the table to plop down onto the seat beside Johann, her free hand patting the empty stool beside her. She was more than happy to welcome Des into the group and offer him up some prime real estate. Sitting next to her.

Eyeing the young hot-shot driver, X put the closed bottle of beer on her lap horizontally and let it roll down the length of her legs, her toes rising to stop the bottle in the crook of her ankles. She stared hard at him until she had his attention, then lowered her gaze toward her lap and lifted it to his face once more, grinning mischievously. Carefully, X pointed her toes and gave the bottle a soft boot to get it rolling under the table. It bumped up against Miller's foot and X finally looked away from him, smiling in Trick's direction and pretending she'd done nothing at all.

"How come he looks so dejected?" she asked, raising her brows curiously and turning her head to grin brilliantly at Des, including him in the conversation. Her finger rose as her elbow settled on the table and the digit leveled toward Marty. Again, her dark gaze moved to their boss. "Someone tell him the lady was after a different coin purse than he'd hoped?" the girl added. In truth, she'd been hoping she'd see the new guy get absolutely taken for a ride by the woman, but they had work to do and fun came after work. Unfortunately.

Desmond Holt

Desmond followed his new friend back through the kitchens to what looked to be a storeroom, though the inside looked more like a meeting room. X darted past and danced around a server who had brought drinks for the other people already present. Des waited politely for the man to move, as attempting a similar move to X's would have sent the server flying.

He looked around at the faces in the room. Tricky, X, the highly intimidating karaoke singer, and another man from the bar. Mr. intimidating gave Des a nod, so Des gave him one back, and then a nod to Tricky as well.

There was now sufficient space for him to advance further into the room, and X patted the stool next to her. He paused for a half second and then shrugged and made his way over to take a seat on the offered stool. Even sitting he still towered over them.

"How come he looks so dejected?" X said, pointing at the glum looking gent across the table, and giving Des a high beam smile. "Someone tell him the lady was after a different coin purse than he'd hoped?"

Des offered the man an understanding grin. "She did seem to be talking him up a bit. Happens to the best of us my man." He glanced around at everyone at the table. "Names Desmond. I know Tricky, and I've already made X's acquaintance. Pleasure to meet you two as well." He said to the two men, taking a sip from his pint glass to give them a chance to introduce themselves if they chose to. Then he looked over at Tricky. "So. X mentioned, among other things, a job?"
"The best surfer out there is the one having the most fun."


The team poured in twos. Johann drove Marty along like an errant and stubborn mule, while the comically mismatched duo of Desmond and X entered the room in a manner that reminded Patrick of the time his baby sister came home leading a shaggy dog. Been since before he left for Beaumonde that Trick saw Allison last, and he knew nothing of whatever became of her. Not much, he reckoned.

Course Pa didn't have much use for dogs, and sent the sad mangy thing packing with a kick in the hind quarters and a clanging of Ma's two good pans. But Patrick had a might more use for Desmond, same as everyone else in the room. They all had their uses, and just the kinds of skills he needed to pull off a job. And while the room continued to fill and the table was set, and Patrick would always find another room to work and another shot to down as long as Iscariot kept spinnin' the Black, he reckoned for a moment that the job remained about the only thing left for him in the 'Verse.

The smile faded beneath the bushy mustache, but as Johann slapped Marty's hand he snapped his head up, met X's impish grin that told him she was definitely up to no good, and decided things could be a lost worse. He could be scarfing on rotten potatoes on Fiddler's Green, or eating slop in some Alliance Penal Station. Trick returned the smile, raised his eye brows playfully and puffed at his cigarillo. As Desmond related that everyone plays the fool now and again, Tricky felt compelled to agree. "Reckon so. Damn shame that. But don't get so glum, Marty. I'm sure you're still popular as ever down at The Lady Magdalene."

Desmond made his introductions to the other regular members of the Empress's crew as Trick watched the door for Iscariot's resident security systems specialist. He hoped the grizzled Alliance veteran remembered where to find him. As Desmond stated - or asked, maybe - that X mentioned a job.

"Job's we got. Though if ya don't mind me sharin' your business with the rest of the table, I think they'll agree that we're less interested in your considerable mechanical knowledge and a might more curious about how you might apply the skills you picked up in your past a smuggler." Trick paused, allowing a moment for the tension to build before disarming it with an easy wink. "Don't worry. You're in good - well, maybe bad company."

Another puff of smoke passed Trick's lips as he rose from his seat and pulled the scroll from his jacket. He tapped the case in his open hand and began to circle the room, as he was prone to do when seeking onlookers' attention. His blue eyes glanced at the door once more as he passed. "I'll save the particulars for when the others get here. Ain't none too sure what's keepin' our friend Aksel, and while I got an idea on the how's and the who's and the when's..." Tricky took a deep breath, though whether for a dramatic pause or due to his genuine consideration of the plan remained anyone's guess, before continuing. "Might be one little kink the plot. We're gonna need a ringer."
And in the city it's a pity 'cause we just can't hide
Tinted windows don't mean nothin', they know who's inside

- RUN-DMC "It's Tricky"

Aksel Munck

After passing through the doors into the back Aksel paused a moment as he looked around the kitchen area.  Staff were bustling around calling out orders, tasking the runner to get this or that.  He always admired the organization of the kitchen.  An assembly line of food streamlined by the writings of Auguste Escoffier back on Earth-That-Was.  Working in a kitchen also meant you ate pretty good too.  The old soldier wondered if he'd chosen the wrong profession as he began to head towards the door to the meeting room, the old familiar stings a stark reminder of his choices.

Just as he was about to pass through the next barrier he noticed a young lad struggling with a sack of potatoes and deviated over to help him move it from one side of the room to the other before venturing forth into the room where presumably everyone was waiting on him.

"Sorry to keep you."  He stated simply while he paced over to the table and sat down beside Marty.  He could smell the booze on the boy and his slight swaying, wondering what sort of job would require the likes of a drunken flyboy or at least he claimed to be to the skirt at the bar.  He gave a slow downward tilt of his head to Desmond in greeting before reaching into his pocket for his cigarette case.  Gripping a stick between his lips he left it unlit and waited to see what he was there for.  Likely not to be the muscle with Johann and this other fellow who had him by a few inches in height and at least a dozen pounds.  In his younger years Munck had similar definition to his muscles though even as he kept up with his fitness age had started to whittle away at him.

His best guess was either they were going to want him to build something for their ship or if they were getting ambitious, analyze someone else's set up and find weaknesses.  Either or was fine with him, moral ambiguity was a necessary part of life on this station and so long as he collected a pay cheque and otherwise was left alone he was pretty flexible.  It didn't hurt his situation to curry favour with Trick's gang either.

Martin Miller

May 06, 2019, 05:42:38 pm #8 Last Edit: May 06, 2019, 07:07:19 pm by Martin Miller
"Oy, wasn't I just a ringer today? Well... uhh... What sort o' ringer you need?"

The pissed pilot perked up. Marty realized halfway through his sentence how ridiculous he sounded in the moment. Suckering some backwoods hayseeds into racing a former pro like himself was one thing. To be an effective ringer, one must be more able than they appear. Right now Martin Miller was just about as able as he appeared. At least he was slightly aware of it. There was a brief pause after his slightly stupid question and volunteering to be the ringer before the English accented aviator burped again suddenly, and loudly. He wasn't prepared for it and surprised even himself. Embarrassed and laughing he excused himself:

"Ó, wǒ de shàngdì! Apologies that was gross but impressive."

He looked around at the table wondering why anyone was surprised.

"Elephant in the room I didn't know I might have to work today."

Miller shrugged and motioned back towards the captain and his earlier line of inquiry.

"So uh what about the uh ringer was it?"

Johann Krüger

May 08, 2019, 09:07:57 am #9 Last Edit: May 09, 2019, 09:38:35 am by Johann Krüger
Krüger looks around at their merry band of misfits, a delicious smile crossing his lips. "I'll take it from here, Tricky." The implications of that statement shouldn't have been lost on anyone. Johann was ruthless, devilish, conniving, manipulative, and, above all, opportunistic. There was no doubt that if he saw any weakness, he would strike quick and hard. His thoughts turned briefly to the gun he had stashed under the table in a quick draw holster. His eyes met O'Doyle's. It would be so easy. Instead, his hand went back to his beer glass, and raised it in salute to those who were gathered, "Gesondheid." He said before he tipped back and finished the drink in one, two, three gulps. He smacked his lips satisfactorily and set the glass back down on the table with a thunk.

"If you're here, we consider you valuable and worth trusting. An opportunity has fallen into our laps that we think warrants..." He paused, finding the correct word. "Our attention." Johann stood from his seat, the chair scraping against the floor. His hand went to his pocket and pulled out a small electronic device, which he placed on the table top and pressed the one and only button visible. A soft whir emanated from the device, and just after Johann lowered the lights, it projected a digital image into the air for all to see.

Presented to them was an image of a fierce looking woman. "This is Mayor Colleen Song. She has been the Mayor of Osiris' Capital City for eight years. Eight years in which she has amassed the sort of power and control that, well..." That smile again. "I'll admit I have bit of a crush on her. I mean, look at her." He allowed everyone a chance to do just that. "She is our Benefactor. And if anyone calls her anything other than that from here on out, I'll stab you in the armpit. It won't kill you, but it will be very painful." The image changed to that of rather nebbish man. "This, believe it or not, is her opponent in the next election. His name is Darby McKenzie, and early polls are indicating that he might beat her, despite our Benefactor's considerable influence. He is a reformer, campaigning against her rampant corruption and promising hope and change and all of that bollocks." Johann stopped and laughed. "We can't have that, can we?"

The image changed yet again, this time to the schematics of what appeared to be some sort of event space. "This is the Capital City Metropolitan Museum, where our mark is an Associate Professor of History. Mr. McKenzie is holding his final campaign event, a fundraising party thrown by some progressive political action committee. Mr. McKenzie doesn't come from money, he's a teacher, for God's sake. His revolutionary campaign has, nonetheless, attracted the attention of the people and, more importantly, the attention of the powerful people who are backing him. Our Benefactor would like us to ensure that Mr. McKenzie does not, under any circumstances, win that election. And she's paying us handsomely to do so."

He laughed. "And no. Killing him is not an option. Killing him leaves him on the ballot. And then his powerful friends pick his successor, a stooly for their cause. Which, of course, McKenzie already is, whether he knows it or not. But a martyr we do not want. No, we want to ruin him." The lights went up and the images disappeared. "We will infiltrate this party, drug the Professor, plant incriminating articles in his office, and get out. A police officer in the employ of our Benefactor will make a big show of finding these incriminations, and we will get the hell out of there. Munck; you, X and I will begin analyzing the museum for security weaknesses. Holt and Miller will prep our getaway vehicle in the case we need to make a hastier exit than planned. Trick, that leaves you to recruit the last member of our team. The ringer you mentioned, we'll need to help distract the Professor, and I think I've an idea who it could be." That smile again, leveled at Marty. The obviousness of the person to which Johann was referring should be clear to everyone except, perhaps, for the drunk driver.

"Any questions?"


"She did seem to be talking him up a bit. Happens to the best of us my man..."
"Reckon so. Damn shame that. But don't get so glum, Marty. I'm sure you're still popular as ever down at The Lady Magdalene."

X grinned at their driver, leaning her elbows on the table and setting her chin in her palm, her gaze constant and unstintingly unyielding. It almost seemed like the hadn't blinked in ages. Of course, her entire body seemed to blink all at once when their man-god spoke up again.

"So. X mentioned, among other things, a job?" he asked. X kept her body position the same but turned her head a bit to stare up at the rendition of gods grace compiled into human form. She winced, ever so slightly, and offered him an apologetic smile. X wasn't sorry that she was head over heels for the man, just that she'd said it aloud. Still... those eyes were magnetic. And that hair, the scars, his mouth... There was a soft slapping sound as X brought her hand hard against her own cheek. Focus. Des got one more longing glance before the girl laughed aloud at herself and straightened in her seat.

The girl swayed in her chair to music only she might've been listening to, eyes moving slowly around the room and settling for half a beat upon each face present. Her hands slipped back into the pockets of her over-sized jacket and her lower lip became trapped between her teeth. She listened to Trick explain Des' background, only a little surprised when he didn't list him as a male model. But, smuggler was close. In her eyes. "Might be one little kink the plot. We're gonna need a ringer." Trick admitted. X snorted.

"Sorry to keep you." The brooding darkness that was their next team member apologized on his way in. X waved cheerily at the man and looked briefly under the table at the bottle of beer propped up against Miller's foot. It was still there. She eyed the driver over the table's surface and raised a brow. "Oy, wasn't I just a ringer today? Well... uhh... What sort o' ringer you need?" he asked, belching quite attractively immediately afterward. She grimaced, leaned back in her seat, and waved a hand in front of her face to ward off any smells that might've accompanied such an impressive gaseous display. "So uh what about the uh ringer was it?" he asked again.

"I'll take it from here, Tricky." Johann finally began, taking things over. X smiled and looked up at the man affectionately, her elbow back on the surface of the table and her chin resting on her palm. The way he outlined everything was so succinct and professional and while it lacked the flowery and entertaining additions Trick might've added to it all, it was easy to follow and well explained. That was something she could appreciate.

"Munck; you, X and I will begin analyzing the museum for security weaknesses. Holt and Miller will prep our getaway vehicle in the case we need to make a hastier exit than planned." He delegated and she clasped her hands together excitedly. This was her bread and butter, and why she was here today. X didn't get to participate first-hand in all of their adventures, but she loved when she got to come along and play with the team instead of setting things up from home or rooting them on in spirit. "Any questions?" he asked.

Her hand shot up, "Did we pick the poison yet? Or, I mean..." a laugh bubbled past her lips, "drug?" No killing, remember? she reminded herself.

Aksel Munck

The questions of why he was there were now unveiled, Johann went impressively in depth with what the situation was and what each of their roles were in it.  They were sabotaging a just man running against a tyrant based on her corruption.  Funny enough that same corrupt nature had now roped them in and surely included a pretty penny.  This job definitely wasn't weak tea.

Munck always fancied himself basically a good man but in his line of work good and bad were two sides of the same coin and like a coin flipped changed day to day.  While there were some reservations in his mind about helping a corrupt politician against someone who from what Johann was saying was a relatively legitimate man he had thrown in his lot with much worse fighting for the Alliance even if he generally believed life better under Alliance rule.

He listened on as their objective was laid out, at least they wouldn't be killing the man.  He had no doubt this Darby fellow would meet that fate eventually if their mission wasn't a success.  Ruining a man's reputation to save his life, oh what a tangled web we weave when first we practise to deceive.

Aksel took his time, considering both his role in this plot and the morality of it- the latter only getting vague attention- before rolling his left shoulder while his right hand pressed at the joint in an effort to relieve a creeping ache.

"I'll need blueprints, specs on the security systems, any guard details.  Nice thing about museums means everything is state-of-the-art.  Everything's electric and everything is done with routine.  Should be fairly simple at finding the patterns and planning around 'em.  Executing the plan is where it gets tricky.  Parden the pun."  He tilted his head in respect to Tricky.  Eyes turning over to X who he'd forgotten to return the wave of earlier when he'd come in.

"Going to take speed and precision once everything's in place.  I'm not much use in the former but I'm guessin' that's where missus X comes in.  Shop might have some less lethal options I could make available to you if needed."  His thick-fingered hands ran down his sandpapered chin as he thought of what might be of use.  No doubt with a client as they had his reimbursement would cover any investment on his part.

Desmond Holt

Desmond sat back and crossed his arms while he listened to Krüger outline the job. It certainly wasn't what he would consider "in his wheel house", but it seemed harmless enough. It wasn't like they were going to murder the guy. He got slightly worried when Krüger mentioned the museum. Meuseums in the core usually had top notch security, especially cameras... and Desmond wasn't what anyone would call inconspicuous, but his worries vanished when Krüger said that Desmond would be helping Miller with the getaway vehicle.

"Any questions?"

X's hand shot up. "Did we pick the poison yet? Or, I mean..." a laugh bubbled past her lips, "drug?" That earned her a slightly raised eyebrow from Desmond. Right, so she knows poisons... note to self, don't piss her off.

Munck also chimed in with his thoughts and requirements.

In the pause that followed Desmond spoke up. "Couple questions, yeah. What kind of getaway vehicle are we thinking? Out run them, plow through them, or fly over them? And what kind of budget and time frame am I looking at for modifications?"
"The best surfer out there is the one having the most fun."

Martin Miller

June 07, 2019, 04:47:11 pm #13 Last Edit: June 07, 2019, 06:12:54 pm by Martin Miller
Marty chimed in along with Desmond on their transportation concerns.

"Yeah, if we park up in the empress we're gonna be about as inconspicuous as a dog's bollocks. Traffic near an event like this'll be a big muck up. But if we can boost a local medevac shuttle, they'll have enough room for our motley bunch. Plus if Desy here can help me find the speed governor chip we'll be untouchable."

He made a motion with his hand like a ship zipping around and he made the accompanying sound effects with his mouth.

"Vrrrooooooshhh! Boom! Ree......"
As he made the sound of tires (which the vehicle wouldn't have) screeching around the corner his eyes darted around the room and realized the shadow puppets probably weren't necessary. He cleared his throat and put his hand back down.

"In my uh, professional opinion that is..."


A few days later:

After the meeting, everyone went about the jobs assigned to them.

Marty, once he sobered up, helped boost a MedVac shuttle for to make their getaway and brought it to Des's workshop where they souped her up and gave her a fresh coat of paint. Desmond decided that the ruining-an-up-and-coming-politician's-life-for-profit game wasn't for him, and collected a tidy sum for his work and his silence. Marty was then instructed to go to Osiris and... wait.

Munck was given the proper schematics, collected from their benefactor, and laid out a solid plan of entry and exit. While there was security, of the door and window alarm variety, there were some motion sensors around the exhibits. The administrative offices were mostly kept under electronic lock and key, so getting inside and not being noticed was the primary objective. A weak point in security presented itself in the air-conditioning system, so for Munck, Johann, and Xiǎodāo, it would be from the roof, into the vents, and above the office. Xiǎodāo would drop in, deposit the package, and ascend from whence they came. They would arrive the three of them together in a separate shuttle that Johann would provide.

Tricky made good on his name and convinced young Martin's friend from the bar to assist in their endeavor by being his date for the evening. She gave her name as Shiri and Tricky didn't correct her. They were dropping the same package as Xiǎodāo, a liquid amphetamine commonly known as "drops", into the man's drink. They were also to run interference on any complications that might arise before the folks upstairs could get out and then slip out with the crowd. They would travel together in the Empress.

I think it's time we blow this scene
Get everybody and the stuff together
Ok, three, two, one, let's jam!.

Martin Miller

August 14, 2019, 07:32:55 pm #15 Last Edit: August 15, 2019, 02:29:45 pm by Martin Miller
Now. Rooftop nearby.

Dum... da dum, dum dum dum dum. Dum... da dum, dum dum dum dum. Dum... da dum, dum dum dum dum. Dum... da dum, dum dum dum dum.

Mad Marty slapped the dashboard of the MedEvac shuttle he'd helped procure a few days before. He'd only been pulling jobs on the dark side of the law for a minute, but so far, this... the waiting. This was the worst part. The low hum of adrenaline and nothing to do with it yet. The desperate yearning for a distraction but the overriding need to stay on task and in the moment. He slammed his fists down in one final thud and brought his forehead down as well. With a groan he brought his face back up and watched the nearby building, waiting for the call to swoop in and get everybody out of there.

But not now... Now...Now was the time to hurry up and wait.

"Gāisǐ de... I thought being a criminal was going to be more fun...Generally..."

Two days ago, Nueva Promesa.

Marty always liked New Promise as the anglophiles called it. But he did try and honor the city's true name, but when he said it it always came out awkward and like every vowel stretched on for miles. He took Spanish at school, but his accent was unshakable. He picked this city on Osiris for the local food, yes, but also for the incredible response time of their EMT's. Miller figured sneaking onto a landing pad patrolled by armed feds was a great idea if he wanted to spend the rest of his life dead. So the mischievous Briton made a quick call to "999".

"Oh god... I'm such a bloody failure... the walls!!! Ohhh the walls they're closing in, mate!! I can't f***ing cope any longer! I'm gonna jump....Yeah... I'm at the corner of.... oy!! What corner is... bugger sorry... Donde estoy?.....Gracias.... Yeah anyway I'm gonna jump off the building at the corner of Bolivar aaand... Del Toro... "

Two minutes later, their shuttle was speeding down Del Toro from the nearest pad. Marty was still on the line with "999", his performance continuing:

"The walls are closing in again!! Oh god! I'm sorry, Norma!"

They were on first name basis at this point. But now Norma had to listen to "Edgar" die. As the shuttle ripped along the Nueva Promesa skyline, it seemed "Edgar" had been a little untruthful about more than his identity and his intent to take his own life. A grinning Johann dropped a pig carcass from the rooftop of an office building. His eye for dropping decent analogues for a heavy-set human was dead on, and before they could reach the corner of Bolivar and Del Toro, they felt the impact as porky slammed into the roof at terminal velocity, blood splashing across the cockpit window.

Coming to an abrupt halt a the middle of the intersection, the shocked crew scrambled out and saw the bits of flesh and bone scattered along the street behind them. A pair flash-bang grenades bounced into the middle of the street in front of them. Dazed by the dual explosions of noise and flashes of blinding light, they didn't notice a man in a Father Christmas mask running up and into the open shuttle. He'd trained on this model in the simulator, and it wasn't too hard find the vertical takeoff controls. Ignoring the normal safety parameters for a vertical takeoff, he slammed down the throttle and the blast of wind threw the first responders onto their butts, and Mad Marty was again racing, this time through the skyline of one of his favorite towns with a big bag of American style Mexican food to fuel up for the tune-up.

This was the fun part.

Now. Rooftop nearby.

Miller's stomach growled. He purposefully hadn't eaten today so he wouldn't need to you know what during the mission. But now he was thinking about burritos. The failed stuntman banished the thought of dinner from his mind. He tried to think of another way to distract himself again...His comm line remained annoyingly silent. Miller felt his fingers start to tap again.

Dum... da dum, dum dum dum dum. Dum... da dum, dum dum dum dum. Dum... da dum, dum dum dum dum. Dum... da dum, dum dum dum dum...

Helena Cain

Helena had been in Osiris for a couple of days now.  She had received a wave while on Iscariot a week or so ago about some well to do Buhn Dahn with a supposed target on his back. He could be paranoid but the security firm that reached out to her was obviously desperate for someone that could blend in and protect the guy at the same time. It wouldn't be the first time she had to wear heels and a dress to a gig, but it wasn't her favorite.

However the gig wasn't for a few hours and a whiskey or two never hurt.  She had already looked at the schematics for the place, there were plenty of entry points to the place and vantage points for an easy kill.  She hated politicians but this one she'd be sticking to like her life depended on it...or her paycheck as it were.  It seemed easy but something was always up, after all why would they could through the effort of hiring someone like her.

Taking another sip Helena looked up at the clock and sighed, it was about time to get her self ready for the party.  Taking a final swig Helena laid down her credits and headed out.


August 19, 2019, 06:14:19 pm #17 Last Edit: August 19, 2019, 06:19:08 pm by Tricky
Iscariot Station, sometime earlier...

Disappointed as he was in Desmond's reluctance to participate in a more hands-on manner with their endeavor, Tricky made sure to slip him a little something extra with the agreed-upon up front payment for his primary role in the job. Desmond always did good work, and his reputation around Iscariot came well-earned. Tricky wouldn't bother bringing him in to any future dirty work, and he'd have to grease one a couple extra palms around the station to make sure Des's tongue didn't wag about the backroom soiree he attended the evening before. Not that Patrick believed Des's lips to be particularly loose, but he'd already misjudged him once. Johann wouldn't like let him forget it any time soon, either.

Patrick attempted to smooth the phantom whiskers of a mustache he no longer wore, then readjusted his collar as he motioned toward the sparkling hull of The Empress and invited his date for the evening aboard the infamous pleasure yacht. "After you, Miss Shiri." Not that Shiri was actually the woman's name, but her poker face was passable and names tended to be more trouble than they were worth in this line of work. Still, Tricky imagined she'd look as good on his arm as the cuff links on his shirt sleeves as he invited her to join him in the co-pilot's seat to witness the view as he piloted the ship.

Patrick's eyes went distant for a moment as the ship detached from the docking ring. He thought to himself that at least one good thing came from his time aboard The Darling Francine as The Empress departed Iscariot and made for Osiris. After some small talk, during which he got just the kind of half truths and blatant lies he expected, Patrick set the autopilot before excusing himself to the jacuzzi and subtly hinting that Shiri, or whatever name she'd been born with, was welcome to join him.

Osiris Atmo, nowish

Wearing a full tuxedo and a pair of darkened aviation goggles to protect his eyes from the burning flare surrounding The Empress's darkening hull and looking like Howard Hughes on benzodiazepines - as if this were something he did every day - Patrick O'Doyle looked over at his date and offered an easy smile. "We're late, of course," he offered as some sort of explanation for his behavior, "but I reckon they're used to that by now. Still, once we arrive at the space port we'll have to double time it. No time to wait for the limo to cut get through the traffic. We'll just shuttle in." Patrick nodded, absolutely certain that parking a shuttle on a prominent political figure's lawn in an overly affluent district of a planet on which he likely had outstanding warrants was a perfectly reasonable thing to do.
And in the city it's a pity 'cause we just can't hide
Tinted windows don't mean nothin', they know who's inside

- RUN-DMC "It's Tricky"

Johann Krüger

A tactical black turtleneck protected against the chill that blew across the rooftop of the Capital City Metropolitan Museum. Bespoke leather gloves flexed around hands that had committed nearly every crime there was a law for, and some that didn't. Night vision goggles scanned the nearby rooftops for anything out of the ordinary. Johann smiled as he saw Marty's vehicle. He zoomed in on the young man and saw him looking bored, just the way Johann preferred. A little sit and stay would be good for the lad. Beneath his feet, outfitted with boots enhanced for stealth, comfort, and style, he could feel the thrum of music from the party below. Johann checked his watch, another needlessly expensive addition to his wardrobe. "Where the hell is everyone?"

Desmond had bowed out, which Johann was hardly surprised. The man's biceps may have been larger in circumference than Johann's thighs, but he wasn't as tough as he looked. And Johann would tell anyone else to their face that he would say that to Desmond. Aksel, on the other hand, was an enigma and had simply disappeared. He knew the plan, had helped develop it in fact, but hadn't shown up when it was time to go. They could do it without him, but it would have been easier with him. Johann spit onto the gravel surface of the rooftop and mentally wrote the one-eyed mystery man off.

Who he was really asking about was Tricky and his date, the girl Shiri. They were supposed to be inside the party by now, getting cozy and finding the mark. Once he was confirmed to be attending the festivities, that was the roof team's green light. "You ready?" Johann turned to look at X perched nearby an open ventilation shaft, harnessed up and ready for decent. "Of course you are. You're always ready. I'm always ready. Nobody rutting else is." Into the radio. "Nest to peacock. You better be en route."


The Roof

Nimble hands clenched into concentrated fists before they slid up through maroon tresses, pulling the locks together and tying them up in an orderly bun. Blunt bangs cut a line across a pale forehead, dark eyes looking out through thick lashes as those gloved hands moved down over secured buckles, yanking at them experimentally to ensure their readiness. Arms reached up toward the dark sky, lithe body elongating and stretching, accompanied by a softly satisfied sigh as the bones down her spine popped into perfect alignment. X crouched down by the opened ventilation shaft and peeked in curiously before her gaze rose to meet that of her partner in crime. Her grin grew with every word added to his justified and curt rant. She was ready, but it was clear she didn't need to confirm that with Johann.

Turning, the girl pulled on the backpack containing her anchoring bar and winch for when she reached the right vent located above the right office, as well as the package she was meant to deliver. Again, fingers curled over straps, yanking them hard to tighten the bag against the curve of her back to keep it from becoming too bulky for the girl to easily slip through the vents.

"He's always late," she reminded Johann in an amused whisper, most of her jovial energy muted in the face of their job. X was nothing if not professional, either from her respect for the craft or years of practiced discipline and repression. Whichever it was, it was a trait that could be appreciated in this line of work. She knew when it was time to perform and adjusted herself accordingly. They didn't need a bouncy ball of mischief right now. Right now, they needed an infiltrator. The mischief would just come naturally. Her head turned away from him and her eyes scanned what she could see without the aid of his night vision goggles. She imagined Marty pacing a hole into the ground somewhere and couldn't help but allow one soft exhale of barely audible laughter to slip past her lips before she cut it off.

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