NationStates Jolt Archive

OOC:
This RP gives you the opportunity to be a member of a terrorist organization, the Driddish Communist Army, or DCA. Your character can be a merc, sympathetic civilian, DCA member, or some sort of terrorist support agency, like an arms dealer. This particular DCA cell is lead by Evan Tavish, a former PIRA member, trained in small unit tactics and espionage by the KGB in during his time with the PIRA. The DCA is being hunted by the paramilitary Driddish Nation Police Department (DNPD), and the DNPD frequently raids suspected DCA strongholds to keep DCA members on their toes.

IC:

A tall, bald man with a muscular build stares at a glowing computer screen over the shoulder of one of his associates. The glow of the monitor reflects off of the blue steel of a M92FS Berretta tucked into the waistband of the man's jeans, at the small of his back. The only noise is the tapping of fingers against keys, and the occasional grunt of disapproval of the oberving man. The typist looks at his superior, and gets a nod of approval. He sends the email to an un-named site on the internet, where it is distributed to dozens of mercenaries, arms dealers, terrorists, and other communist extremist groups. The larger man is Evan Tavish, the head of the local DCA cell. Tavish is tall and completely bald, finding hair to be an inconvenience in his line of work. A ruthless and cold man, Tavish currently has a three-million Drudin bounty on his head, of which he is very proud. Tavish is Irish by heritage, and has a distinctive accent. The typist is a man by the name of Henry Opla, Tavish's 'egghead', a hacker of some skill who finds pleasure in wreaking havoc on the DNPD databases. Opla is a figity man, wearing thick glasses and possesed of a thin, pale build. Tavish waits in the undisclosed apartment, waiting a reply. His second in command, a simple man known only as 'Ril', guards the door. Ril is a large fellow, with broad shoulders and massive arms. He cradles an AK-47 in his massive grip, seemingly dwarfing the weapon. Ril simply stands and smiles, cackling manically at basically anything Tavish says. Tavish himself was not a communist, but a lover of money and power, in whatever forms they came in. His cold and ruthless tactics had gained him the promise of a position of power within the new government.

OOC: What's wrong with this RP?

BUMP

OOC: Maybe it'll have more success with the late-night crowd...

[OOC: So, are these guys genuine communists/socialists or just a bunch of Stalinists?]

OOC: It's an extremist group that's a pain in the ass in my nation, much like the PIRA is to the British. I guess they're just old-school commies, where the government owns everything and everyone is supposedly equal. A Stalinisum/Marxisum mix. Why does it matter?

[ooc: Because my nation, which is socialist, would never lend aid to Stalinists.

And myself, as a RL anarchist, would never have anything to do with Stalinists.]

OOC: I'm not asking for a nation to help them, simply for some interested merc, arms dealer, that kinda thing. Your nation won't get involved, you'll play a single character, not some liberation army.
Driddain is American-democratic, and is fircely anti-communist.

OOC: Alright, it's late (or early), 02.10 am here, but I'll try to slip into a character.

Pop!
The bubble exploded and "C" continued to chew his bubble-gum. Just one of his bad habits; besides of blowing up things and women. Although he usually didn't blow the girls up.
"C" was a common looking man with a face like thousands of people had. And that was one of his advantages. Even if somebody saw him (and survived) he wouldn't be able to tell any important things. Average size, average statue, average brown hair and eyes.
But "C" was all but as average as he looked like. He was somekind of a virtuoso of explosions. "Gimme a nade and some glue and I'll enlight the Statue of Liberty for you, or whatever you want to be enlighted." he used to say.
And, propably the best, he said this to everyone who could afford his price.

This night "C" was sitting on his chair in his comfortable loft watching some TV when the "You have Mail" alarm sounded.
"C" hesitated for a moment while he thought about to ignore this email but then he switched the screen on and had a look at his mail.

User name:Red47@DOL.com

Subject: 'Employment Issues'

Text:
You have been recommended to the DCA from a trusted source. Payment is avaliable on job completion, and on job completion only. If you wish to be employed by the DCA, a representative will meet you in Spigel's Apartments, East Central Street, in Dridinsville, Driddain.

-E.T.

A small communist flag waves at the bottom of the page.

"C" read the mail and seemed a bit bored.

The usual stuff he thought. Then he saw the initials E. and T. E.T.? And from the DCA? he fronewd E.T. Hmm..maybe he is it or maybe he is it not. This could be interesting. And I didn't blow up anything since sheik Abdul's yacht three month ago hehe.

So it was decided. "C" was on the way.

____________________________________|

Some hours later he left the taxi in front of Spigel's Apartments, payed and entered the building. Instingtivly he scanned the area for dangers as well as for the best palces to place a nice little bomb there that would destroy the building. Not that he wanted to do this but you never know what comes.
He went over to the desk and rang the bell still investigating the lobby inconspiciously.

A thin, pale fellow sees 'C' at the desk, and intentionally bumps into him, slipping a note into his coat pocket as he mutters an apology.

The note reads:

Room 49
Knock and duck, if you're smart.

Damn. These guys are better than I thought. They already know how I look like.
"C" went over to the restrooms and read the note.
Then he rent it to small pieces and flushed them down and made his way upstairs to room 49. Not on the straight way of course, he always tried to be carefull. Finally he stood in front of the door where he followed the advices.

In a house not five blocks away, another pair of men stare at their computer screen. They are members of the IGHWA, or international General Health and Welfare agency, sort of the liberal KGB. One is at the keyboard, typing furiously, while the other one, taller, but about the same age, argues with him. They are trying to hack into Tavish's computer, trying to decide what they should do. The nature of the IGHWA makes it hard to decide when it comes to communist groups like this. Either leave them alone, if they are headed in the right direction, or take them down, if they are not.

They are both rather thin, the typist being thinnest, but the other with a stronger build. They each have a colt M1911 in a shoulder holster, and up against the wall there are two Kalashnikov assault rifles. There is also a third person, a woman of 22 years of age. She wears a white t-shirt and a pair of running shorts, and cradles a G-36 in her arms. She is a medium-sized person, but her well-muscled limbs all show signs of frequent exersize.

"Aha! I'm almost there!"
"Keep going! Keep going!"

Opla settles back into his chair in front of the computer as a knock sounds at the door. Ril opens the door out to the side, and a 2x4 with several nails driven through it swings out at head level, with blinding speed. Ril grabs a handful of C's shirt, which is mostly his entire shirt, and drags him inside, half-throwing, half-setting him down on the small couch in the room. Ril's AK-47 tracks his every movement, and Ril continues to smile in a stupid fashion. Tavish leaves the computer room and moves into the parlor, sitting across from 'C'.

Opla, in the meantime, shuts down the computer and unhooks the internet connection. 'Won't need that anymore... least till Evan wants to send another Email.'

"And you are?" Tavish asks in a heavy Irish accent

Since the failure of the communist insurrection in Centralis, Aleksander Orlenski had been a man adrift, without a purpose. He, alone among his party cell, had escaped retribution after the coup collapsed, but he'd lost all contact with whatever was left of the Communist Party of Centralis, and had spent the time since moving from country to country, hoping to stay ahead of the intelligence agents and bountry hunters that would be looking for him.

And so it was that, in a dingy hotel room in the capital city of a country far from his home, he absently brought up his email on his laptop and clicked on his flashing 'new mail' icon. A glance at it's contents, however, caused him to sit bolt upright in his chair and smile with anticipation.

OOC: Were all the emails the same, or were they customised to each person? If the latter, please say what the contents were.

(so that you know, this guy is an arms dealer and a hit man, and a very good one too, which is why he's got a price on his head.

*BUMP*

somewhere in Driddan a greasy-haired hawkish man types feverously at a computer. he notices a small envelope in the corner of the screen flashing. he opens, it's an organisation who wants some stuff. he's Dothos. Skittletopian black-market arms dealer. if it goes bang and you've got the dough. it's yours. he switches on a collossal black box humming next to the computer, an encryption and concealment device of some sort, and arranges a meeting in a soup factory whose forman he has an "arrangement" with on the outer reaches of the city and begins packing a large scaffolding bag with various "tools of the trade"

Opla settles back into his chair in front of the computer as a knock sounds at the door. Ril opens the door out to the side, and a 2x4 with several nails driven through it swings out at head level, with blinding speed. Ril grabs a handful of C's shirt, which is mostly his entire shirt, and drags him inside, half-throwing, half-setting him down on the small couch in the room. Ril's AK-47 tracks his every movement, and Ril continues to smile in a stupid fashion. Tavish leaves the computer room and moves into the parlor, sitting across from 'C'.

Opla, in the meantime, shuts down the computer and unhooks the internet connection. 'Won't need that anymore... least till Evan wants to send another Email.'

"And you are?" Tavish asks in a heavy Irish accent

"C" was a bit surprised by the 2x4 but he had expected some trap when he read the "...and duck" on the note. Everything else happened like it had happened several times before, nothing unusual so "C" kept cool. He knew that there was no danger for him. Not more than everytimes. And what did they always say: "Those who don't risk can't win." ?

"C" looked up at the one who "welcomed" him.
"If you don't mind: I am "C". Responsible for fireworks, pyrotechnics, lightshows, deconstruction and area rearangments." a sarcastic-amused smile appeared.

Recieved from: "TheHiddenForge@anonfreeaddys.com
to: **insert DCA email addy here**

I hear you bolly bolsheviks are lookin' for some shooters. well i'm your man, i got some shit in yesterday that'd make most generals need a change of skids, meet me round the back of the Campbell's soup tinnery at 2400 tonight and we'll see if we can't come to some arrangement."

((OOC: My chara's a member of the DCA. Although she's formerly a member of the Yukuza, but not anymore. If this isn't cool, then I can edit my post.))


*A female voice came from behind "C."*

Oni'shi: "I have heard of you, C. You come highly recommanded..."

*Had C been able to turn around, he would have noticed the Japanese female in a beatuiful kimono, three dots in the shape of an inverted triangle on her forehead. Her eyes were serious and cold. This woman was Oni'Shi Ayamani, former of the Yukuza, but now her loyalities lies with the DCA. The braided handle of what was mostly likely a Samurai blade could be seen sticking out from behind her kimono.*

((OOC: Can provide pic on demand.))

The hacking efforts of the two IGHWA agents were in vain, and they are highly agitated.

"GAH!!!!!!!! Stupid thing!"
"Oh shut up!"
"Why don't you just go over there and see them!"
"Do we have an address?"
"Its not far. Just a few blocks. The ISP address shows the computer to be in an apartment block not more than a few blocks down the street."
"Well, I can't go with the G-36. Gimme your colt."
"Alright. Here you go."

The man standing next to the typist throws his pistol over to the woman at the door, who then tosses him her sub machine gun. She puts on a trenchcoat and heads out the door.

"Finally."
"Got your bags packed?"
"Yep. If we hurry, we can catch the afternoon flight to Roguestan."
"Lets go."

Tavish points a finger at her in an agitated fashion. He'd forgotten she was there.

"Easy lass."

Tavish fixes 'C' with his intense hazel glare.

"So you're a demo geek are ya, lad? That's somethin' we need. Can ya use a gun well?"

Back in the back, Opla hooks the computer back in, checking the email quickly, before closing it down and unhooking it again. 'There's a new toystore on the block...' He shouts at Tavish.

"Hey, Evan, how do ya fancy a new gat? That nine you carry ain't gonna cut it in a firefight."

Opla grins, Tavish was very protective of his weapon choices.

"Would you like to have a wee taste of my blue steel, laddie?"

Tavish says over his shoulder. He then looks at Oni'Shi Ayamani.

"Go with Henry and meet this guy. Ril an' I'll stay here an' hold down the fort."

Opla heads for the door, after tucking a Glock 17 into his waistband. Ril resets the trap as they exit the room.

OOC:
1. No crouching tiger hidden dragon anime stuff, Krowemoh. I'd like to keep this as real as possible.
2. All the emails are the same.
3. The Driddish already have a force out hunting for the DCA, LRR. I'll have them crash in on Tavish and his crew in a bit.

Aleksander rubbed his hands together, smiling with glee. He'd forgotten how good it felt to have something worthwhile to do. Committing the address to memory, he wiped the email from his computer, before getting up, packing his bags, and informing the hotel clerk he was leaving immediately. Within a few hours, he was on a plane to Dridinsville airport.

deleted

Tavish points a finger at her in an agitated fashion. He'd forgotten she was there.

"Easy lass."

Tavish fixes 'C' with his intense hazel glare.

"So you're a demo geek are ya, lad? That's somethin' we need. Can ya use a gun well?"

Back in the back, Opla hooks the computer back in, checking the email quickly, before closing it down and unhooking it again. 'There's a new toystore on the block...' He shouts at Tavish.

"Hey, Evan, how do ya fancy a new gat? That nine you carry ain't gonna cut it in a firefight."

Opla grins, Tavish was very protective of his weapon choices.

"Would you like to have a wee taste of my blue steel, laddie?"

Tavish says over his shoulder. He then looks at Oni'Shi Ayamani.

"Go with Henry and meet this guy. Ril an' I'll stay here an' hold down the fort."

Opla heads for the door, after tucking a Glock 17 into his waistband. Ril resets the trap as they exit the room.

OOC:
1. No crouching tiger hidden dragon anime stuff, Krowemoh. I'd like to keep this as real as possible.
2. All the emails are the same.
3. The Driddish already have a force out hunting for the DCA, LRR. I'll have them crash in on Tavish and his crew in a bit.

OCC: Want my crew to tag along? Their days in HAF and Rukemia made them pretty handy with an Ak-47.

"Guns are not my speciality but," he moved his right wrist and suddenly a small gun jerked into his hand. With the same move "C" pointed at Tavish with the gun smiling," I'm not totaly unaware of how to use them." Another move with his wrist and the gun diappeared.
"Maybe you'd better check newcomers for hidden weapons next time."

OOC: Did you forget about the large, fanatically loyal man with the AK-47 pointed at you? He standing a foot to 'C's left.

A few miles away, in the DNPD HQ...

Lt. Jace Aclyder sits behind his desk. Acylder is a good-looking fellow, with curly black hair and green eyes like most Drids. His hair is long, and tied back in a short ponytail at the nape of his neck. Aclyder led the DNPD SWAT team, and had delt with Tavish on numerous occasions, yet had never arrested him. Tavish was responsible for killing three DNPD officers during a botched bank takeover, placing him on the 'most wanted' list, at the very top. On his computer screen flashed a picture of Tavish, along with a detailed Bio...

Name: Tavish, Evan Patrick
DOB: 2/24/67
Nationality: Irish
Ethnicity: White
Hair: None
Eyes: Hazel
Height: 6'0"
Weight: 201 lbs
Bio:
Born in Dublin, Ireland, on Febuary 24th, 1967. Tavish moved to Great Britain at age 18 and joined the Royal Air Force. Tavish served for six years as an SAS non-commisioned officer, mastering the use of handguns, assault rifles, and submachine guns. Hearing of revolution in his homeland, Tavish resigned from the RAF to join the PIRA. During his time with the PIRA, Tavish recieved additional training from the KGB in small-unit tactics, espionage, and other various skills useful to revolutionaries, like how to contact arms dealers. Tavish is known to be a skilled unarmed combatant and knife fighter. Extreme caution should be exercised when dealing with him. Highly intelligent and creative with concerns to trap creation and torture. Tavish has the following warrants outstanding:
Resisting Arrest (18)
Murder (52)
Destruction of Government Property (10)
Manslaughter (129)
Illegal Possession of a Firearm (19)
Assaulting an Officer (66)
Assault with a deadly weapon (49)
Illegal possession of explosives (7)

Below Tavish's bio was that of Ril, his burly companion.

Name: Unknown
Alias: Ril
DOB: Unknown
Nationality: Believed to be Australian
Ethnicity: White
Hair: Brown
Eyes: Green
Height: 6'1"
Weight: 287 lbs
Bio:
Little is known about Tavish's companion, known only as Ril. Ril seems to be somewhat mentally handicapped, and is mostly inarticulate. Ril has the following warrants outstanding:
Murder (66)
Manslaughter (9)
Assault and Battery (26)

Below Ril's bio was that of Henry Opla.

Name: Opla, Henry Thomas
Nationality: American
DOB: 4/30/73
Ethnicity: White
Hair: Black
Eyes: Green
Height: 5’10”
Weight: 171 lbs
Bio:
Born in Los Angeles, California. Opla is a skilled hacker, teaching himself from a young age. Opla is intelligent and crafty, complementing Tavish’s ruthless nature quite well, by providing more subtle solutions to various electronic problems. Opla currently has no warrants outstanding, but is suspected to have broken into the DNPD’s databanks several times, erasing data concerning his criminal activites.



OOC: You might want to contact them, LRR.

Orlenski spent most of the four-hour flight into Driddain reading and reviewing his lists of remaining contacts. When he arrived, he made a call to a friend he'd spoken to before leaving to cofirm that all arrangements had been made, which they had. Before renting a car and driving off for the building he'd been directed to, he made sure to bump into someone waiting waiting outside and took the small armorued briefcase they passed him.

* * *

This was the place, he was sure of it. Having parked his car inconspicuously nearby, he waked back, and, patting the briefcase for reassurance, walked inside.

OOC: Did you forget about the large, fanatically loyal man with the AK-47 pointed at you? He standing a foot to 'C's left.

ooc: Errr...ahem ...oops. Ok, "C" is not in a suicide mood so let's say forget my last post.

IC:
"Guns are not my speciality but I know how to handle them. Although I don't know anything better to completely destroy a target than a nice little bomb." he said smiling.
"Hey, what kind of hosts are you? Don't you want to offer something to drink?" he looked at Tavish and then at the guy with the gun next to him.

Ril simply grins at him sadistically.

"Ril ain't much for conversation, lad. We've got us a bit o' Ireland's best, but not much else."

Tavish rises from his seat, and enters the kitchen, grabbing a pair of bottles from the fridge. He tosses one of the Killian's Irish Reds to 'C'.

"Enjoy. Now what where you saying about explosives? I need someone who has a good understanding of explosives."

In the Lobby...

As Opla and his asian companion are exiting the lobby, they notice a newcomer, and Opla perform the same manuver that he performed on 'C', with the same message, before leaving the building.

OOC: The DNPD awaits your phonecall, LRR.

Feigning a sudden need to use the toilets, Orlsenki ducked out of sight to read the message he'd just been passed. Having read it he nodded, put it in his mouth and chewed it to a pulp, then spat it out and flushed it down the toilet before starting up the stairs and heading to room 49. When he reached the door, he unlocked the briefcase, knocked, and ducked.

OOC: I don't know much about explosives in RL so don't expect any details :wink:

IC:
"Show me the aim and I'll make it turn into a beautifull fireball. I can build you every bomb you need. Well, maybe without a-bombs."

The two LRR officers step out onto the street, their weapons hidden in suitcases and their shoulder holsters. They find a phone box, and call the Driddain police.

"Hello? This is Zaphod Dennek of the IGHWS."

((OOC: lol, gotcha, no CTHD Anime stuff. 'Sides, her Kadochi (Smaller then a full length Katana, but longer then a Dagger.) is largely ceramonial, not something she'd actually used to kill someone. Of course, that doesn't mean she can't use it to kill someone, just means she'd rather not use it to kill someone. She's fairly skilled with handguns. ^_^))


*Oni'Shi left with Henry to meet the new arms dealer, the two piling into a midsized Sedan. With Henry driving, Oni'Shi looked out the window, her hands resting in the folds of her Kimono, one hand tightly wrapped around the handgrip of her chrome plated Desert Eagle Pistol.*

Dothos, tired of waiting for the buyers, packs up and begins hunting for them in the seedier reaches of town, his sources lead him to the door with the white notice, which he stupidly chooses to ignore

**knock knock**

*WHAM!*

he drops to the ground, dead with a look of absolute shock on his face, the 2x4 still attached to his head by the nails. the scaffolding sling hits the deck and scatters it's wares about. six benalli automatic shotguns.

Tavish hears the knock, and the subsequent 'whomp' noise. 'F**k...' He thinks as he rises.

"Ril, open the door..."

Tavish orders as he draws his Berretta.

Ril nods, then opens the door, catching the body of the dead arms dealer, and booting the shotguns more or less into the room.

"Pick those up, laddie." Tavish orders, motioning at 'C' with his handgun. "Put his stupid ass in the bathtub, Ril. Can't have him bleedin' out on me fine carpet, can we?"

At the DNPD HQ....

A phone at the reception desk rings...

"Hello?" Comes the voice of a female secretary.

OOC: You may not have noticed, but my character's at the door as well. (presumably AFTER the guy killed himself on the 2 by 4...)

'C' took the shotguns and threw them onto the couch he had been sitting on before.

"Would you mind not to press your gun into my face?" he asked, "Makes me feel a bit uncomfortable."

bump?

another bump

OOC: Sorry, I thought I posted on here, but I guess the forum ate it.

IC:

Ril grabs the fellow by the door by the collar of his shirt and flings him into the room. Tavish aims his Berretta at the man, the blue steel shining faintly under the dim lights in the room. Outside the hotel, Opla and his asian companion return to the hotel, in lieu of the arms dealer's appearance.

Tavish glares at the man in his sights.

"Who are you lad? Why are you here?"

Tavish hears the knock, and the subsequent 'whomp' noise. 'F**k...' He thinks as he rises.

"Ril, open the door..."

Tavish orders as he draws his Berretta.

Ril nods, then opens the door, catching the body of the dead arms dealer, and booting the shotguns more or less into the room.

"Pick those up, laddie." Tavish orders, motioning at 'C' with his handgun. "Put his stupid ass in the bathtub, Ril. Can't have him bleedin' out on me fine carpet, can we?"

At the DNPD HQ....

A phone at the reception desk rings...

"Hello?" Comes the voice of a female secretary.

"May we speak with the commander of the city's antiterror unit?"

OOC: Sorry, I thought I posted on here, but I guess the forum ate it.

IC:

Ril grabs the fellow by the door by the collar of his shirt and flings him into the room. Tavish aims his Berretta at the man, the blue steel shining faintly under the dim lights in the room. Outside the hotel, Opla and his asian companion return to the hotel, in lieu of the arms dealer's appearance.

Tavish glares at the man in his sights.

"Who are you lad? Why are you here?"

OOC: Is this my guy that got grabbed, or someone else?

OOC: Yes it is, Centralis. Tavish now has a 9mm pointed at you, and wants to know who you are and why you where in front of his door.

IC:

"Transferring now... please hold."

The secretary transfers the line to Lt. Acylder's office.

"DNPD SWAT, Lt. Acylder speaking." Says a male voice.

OOC: Yes it is, Centralis. Tavish now has a 9mm pointed at you, and wants to know who you are and why you where in front of his door.

IC:

"Transferring now... please hold."

The secretary transfers the line to Lt. Acylder's office.

"DNPD SWAT, Lt. Acylder speaking." Says a male voice.

"Hello. My name is Zaphod Dennek of the IGHWS, the investigative service of Lunatic Retard Robots. The IGHWS is a division of the joint intelligence service between.....oh never mind that. But we believe we have information on the whereabouts of a certain 'Tavish' and 'Opla.' Thanks to my hacker friend, we were able to trace a number of emails coming from a suspected apartment block downtown and we think he is still there. But you better hurry to catch him. We would also like to tag along during the arrest if you try to make one. LRR has some charges to press on them. We are at a phone box about two blocks from Tavish's apartment."

"My self and my team will arrive in about an hour by helicopter. Please keep your team away from my forces, as we will not be able to discern you from Tavish's crew, and I don't want any friendly casualties. Am I clear?" Aclyder says firmly.

Ril grabs the fellow by the door by the collar of his shirt and flings him into the room. Tavish aims his Berretta at the man, the blue steel shining faintly under the dim lights in the room. Outside the hotel, Opla and his asian companion return to the hotel, in lieu of the arms dealer's appearance.

Tavish glares at the man in his sights.

"Who are you lad? Why are you here?"

"My name's Aleksander Orlenski; you might have heard of me, I worked as an arms procurer and hit man for the Communist Party of Centralis. I received your email offering employment, and I came down here to offer my services. Could you put the gun down, please?"

Tavish glares at him

"You're a hitman, laddie. Guns shouldn't make you nervous. Have a seat next to 'C', our other hopeful. I'll warn you both, and only once. Cross me an' I'll kill you in ways more terrible and painful than you can imagine. Am I clear?"

The Berretta returns to Tavish's waistband.

"They don't make me nervous, except when they're pointed at me."

Orlenski sits.

"Now, what kind of services are you looking for?"

"I need someone who can get me guns, and someone who can use them. Good shooters are hard to find. Most walk into the range and hit the target and think they're expert shots. Those targets don't shoot back, Lad. The one's we're after do. I've recently got meself a few scatterguns, but no ammo. You've seen what happens when you don't follow my directions."

Tavish jerks a thumb in the direction of the bathroom, where the arms dealer's corpse sits in the bath tub, bleeding out.

"Guns and ammo I can get you easily, for a price. What kind do you need?"

Tavish thinks for a moment.

"I need two hundred rounds of 00 buckshot, 12 gague. I also need five AKS-74U assault rifles with five hundred rounds of ammo each. Last thing I'll need is one thousand rounds of 9x19mm parabellum, in both FMJ and JHP."

Tavish thinks for a moment.

"I need two hundred rounds of 00 buckshot, 12 gague. I also need five AKS-74U assault rifles with five hundred rounds of ammo each. Last thing I'll need is one thousand rounds of 9x19mm parabellum, in both FMJ and JHP."

"My self and my team will arrive in about an hour by helicopter. Please keep your team away from my forces, as we will not be able to discern you from Tavish's crew, and I don't want any friendly casualties. Am I clear?" Aclyder says firmly.

"Yes, you are very clear. We are only two in number, though. We will start for the apartment in a few minutes, and wait in the lobby for your team."

Tavish thinks for a moment.

"I need two hundred rounds of 00 buckshot, 12 gague. I also need five AKS-74U assault rifles with five hundred rounds of ammo each. Last thing I'll need is one thousand rounds of 9x19mm parabellum, in both FMJ and JHP."

"Hmm... Okay, I should be able to get you that if I can ring up some of my contacts in Centralis - I dunno exactly how much it'll cost, I'll have to ask, but it shouldn't be much. How soon will you need them?"

In the DNPD HQ....

"Good. Myself and my team will arrive shortly."

Aclyder hangs up the phone.

In the apartment...

Tavish hears the roar of a helicopter above the apartment building, and draws his Berretta.

"Now would be a good time, laddie. Looks like we're going to have a wee bit of company."

In the DNPD HQ....

"Good. Myself and my team will arrive shortly."

Aclyder hangs up the phone.

In the apartment...

Tavish hears the roar of a helicopter above the apartment building, and draws his Berretta.

"Now would be a good time, laddie. Looks like we're going to have a wee bit of company."

The two LRR agents, by now having reached the apartment building, look up to see a sleek black helicopter fly over the building. They draw their M1911 automatics, and Dennek's colleague clips a drum magazine into his G-36. They then wait for Aclyder's team to arrive, their badges worn on the outside of their trentchcoats. Dennek takes a pair of flashbang grenades out of his briefcase, as well as three kedamine gas grenades, and fastens them to his shoulder holster strap.

"Seems as if we could need something to cover our backs, eh? 'C' asked.

"Seems as if we could need something to cover our backs, eh? 'C' asked.

"My contacts may be fast, but they're not that fast," Orlenski replies, opening the briefcase and tossing out the contents - a pair of MP5 sub-machine guns and a pair of extra clips. "Here, you may find these useful."

'C' took one of the MP5s and checked it.

"Nice, but I thought about something else. Something like," he opened his jacket like a street dealer, unveiling two or three dozents of small explosive charges on the inside of the jacket, "this." he smiled in real amusement and lifted an eyes-brow.

Opla and the female (I can't spell her name...) re-enter the apartment, and Tavish tosses Opla an MP5, as he draws his Berretta. Ril grins madly and fiddles with his AK-47.

"That'd be the DNPD, lads. We'd best get to runnin'. They've got a bit more heat than we've got at the moment."

Tavish moves out of the apartment, with Opla and Ril following him, covering most angles of approach. As they move, the central skylight explodes in a shower of glass and DNPD officers rappel down from a hovering chopper, firing Driddish Jackal SMG's. The .38 Special rounds cut across the wall above Tavish's groups' heads, and they return fire. Lt. Aclyder takes aim at Tavish and fires, a hail of rounds splintering the dry wall behind his target. An officer to his left is hit by a 7.62mm from Ril's AK-47, and he topples off of his rappel line, crashing into the lobby. A replacement officer rappels down the same line, bringing to bear a Driddish Arachnid PMG (Personal MiniGun). 9mm rounds rake the walls as Ril and Opla retreat into the stairwell. Tavish returns fire with his Berretta, killing an officer with a well-placed headshot. The shrapnel shield standard on all DNPD helmets didn't stop a bullet, and Tavish used this to his advantage. He follows the others into the stairwell, bullets ricocheting after him.

Lt. Acylder drops the empty magazine from his Jackal, and slams a fresh one home, quickly working the bolt on his weapon to chamber a round.

"Shit! All units, descend to ground floor. We'll bottle him up in the stairwell..."

The DNPD SWAT leader begins his descent to the lobby floor.

The LRR agents hear the gunfire inside, and burst into the lobby. Dennek has his .45 automatic drawn, and carries a flashbang grenade in his other hand. His companion has his G-36 drawn to firing position and on full automatic. As they start for the stairwell, they see the terrorists start to descend from above.

"HOLD IT THERE!!!!! IGHWS!!!!!!!"

They then duck from the range of a shooter from the stairwell, and wait for the terrorists' actions.

The LRR agents hear the gunfire inside, and burst into the lobby. Dennek has his .45 automatic drawn, and carries a flashbang grenade in his other hand. His companion has his G-36 drawn to firing position and on full automatic. As they start for the stairwell, they see the terrorists start to descend from above.

"HOLD IT THERE!!!!! IGHWS!!!!!!!"

They then duck from the range of a shooter from the stairwell, and wait for the terrorists' actions.

bump

bump

bump?

bump?

IS THER ANYONE HERE?????????

OOC: Yes, and I'll post a reply later, when I have some more time.

This had the makings of a decent RP.

"Hey, 'C', I think those explosives of yours may be about to come in handy," Orlenski shouts, pulling a large revolverfrom inside his jacket. "Did you guys come up with an escape plan beforehand?"

'C' took a strip of chewie-gum out of his pocket and smiled a bit nervous.

"Don't ask me about escape plans, I'm a new guy, too. But about this explosives ...," his smile became more natural, " ... Cover!"

He grasped for one of the spherical charges, pressed a small button on it and let it roll down the stairs, step by step: Tock, Tock, Tock ...; down to the place where the IGHWS guys were.

He counted the seconds down.
5
4
3
2
1
BANG!!!

A light flashed downstairs and the stairwell shook slightly, dust fell from the ceiling.

'C' took a strip of chewie-gum out of his pocket and smiled a bit nervous.

"Don't ask me about escape plans, I'm a new guy, too. But about this explosives ...," his smile became more natural, " ... Cover!"

He grasped for one of the spherical charges, pressed a small button on it and let it roll down the stairs, step by step: Tock, Tock, Tock ...; down to the place where the IGHWS guys were.

He counted the seconds down.
5
4
3
2
1
BANG!!!

A light flashed downstairs and the stairwell shook slightly, dust fell from the ceiling.

"INCOMING!!!"
"GODDAMNIT!!!!!! RUN!!!!!"

They run as fast as they can in the other direction, but not fast enough. The explosive detonates, knocking Dennek out into the lobby. His companion, however, is able to get back up sooner. He checks the drum magazine in his G-36 and helps Dennek back to his feet, even though his leg is broken and his forehead is bleeding. He takes a pair of Kedamine gas grenades from Dennek and tosses them into the stairwell.

Tavish tugs a small Glock sub-compact from a boot holster and returns fire, booting the gas grenades out of the stairwell. Ril fires the remainder of his magazine into the glass front doors, then reloads. Tavish gestures quickly with squinted eyes, trying to keep them open in the presence of the CS tear gas in the stairwell. Opla sees the handsignal, and dives out of the stairwell, firing blindly as he charges for the front doors. A DNPD SWAT officer unhooks himself from his rappel line, and fires at this new target. Opla staggers slightly as a pair of .38 Special's cut into his left arm and ribcage. Tavish, seeing his technician take a hit, charges into the lobby with Ril on his heels, knocking Opla out into the street. Lt. Aclyder unhooks slightly before his boots touch the lobby carpet and he hits the floor running, his Jackal spraying rounds at 800 rounds per minute. Tavish puts a pair of 9mm rounds into the frontal shockplate of Aclyder's vest, knocking him to the floor. Tavish's crew piles into Opla's car (This includes Orlenski and 'C'), and they speed off.

Acylder picks himself up from the floor, quickly ejecting the dry clip from his SMG and loading a fresh one.

"F**k! All DNPD units, suspect known as Evan Tavish is fleeing in a large sedan. Intercept at all costs."

Acylder shouts into his shoulder mic.

He turns to the LRR operatives.

"You people got a ride? We're taking this to the streets, that bastard ain't leavin' this city."

Tavish tugs a small Glock sub-compact from a boot holster and returns fire, booting the gas grenades out of the stairwell. Ril fires the remainder of his magazine into the glass front doors, then reloads. Tavish gestures quickly with squinted eyes, trying to keep them open in the presence of the CS tear gas in the stairwell. Opla sees the handsignal, and dives out of the stairwell, firing blindly as he charges for the front doors. A DNPD SWAT officer unhooks himself from his rappel line, and fires at this new target. Opla staggers slightly as a pair of .38 Special's cut into his left arm and ribcage. Tavish, seeing his technician take a hit, charges into the lobby with Ril on his heels, knocking Opla out into the street. Lt. Aclyder unhooks slightly before his boots touch the lobby carpet and he hits the floor running, his Jackal spraying rounds at 800 rounds per minute. Tavish puts a pair of 9mm rounds into the frontal shockplate of Aclyder's vest, knocking him to the floor. Tavish's crew piles into Opla's car (This includes Orlenski and 'C'), and they speed off.

Acylder picks himself up from the floor, quickly ejecting the dry clip from his SMG and loading a fresh one.

"F**k! All DNPD units, suspect known as Evan Tavish is fleeing in a large sedan. Intercept at all costs."

Acylder shouts into his shoulder mic.

He turns to the LRR operatives.

"You people got a ride? We're taking this to the streets, that bastard ain't leavin' this city."

Tavish tugs a small Glock sub-compact from a boot holster and returns fire, booting the gas grenades out of the stairwell. Ril fires the remainder of his magazine into the glass front doors, then reloads. Tavish gestures quickly with squinted eyes, trying to keep them open in the presence of the CS tear gas in the stairwell. Opla sees the handsignal, and dives out of the stairwell, firing blindly as he charges for the front doors. A DNPD SWAT officer unhooks himself from his rappel line, and fires at this new target. Opla staggers slightly as a pair of .38 Special's cut into his left arm and ribcage. Tavish, seeing his technician take a hit, charges into the lobby with Ril on his heels, knocking Opla out into the street. Lt. Aclyder unhooks slightly before his boots touch the lobby carpet and he hits the floor running, his Jackal spraying rounds at 800 rounds per minute. Tavish puts a pair of 9mm rounds into the frontal shockplate of Aclyder's vest, knocking him to the floor. Tavish's crew piles into Opla's car (This includes Orlenski and 'C'), and they speed off.

Acylder picks himself up from the floor, quickly ejecting the dry clip from his SMG and loading a fresh one.

"F**k! All DNPD units, suspect known as Evan Tavish is fleeing in a large sedan. Intercept at all costs."

Acylder shouts into his shoulder mic.

He turns to the LRR operatives.

"You people got a ride? We're taking this to the streets, that bastard ain't leavin' this city."

"Yep. We've got a car."

Dennek points to a small white Volvo sedan outside on the other side of the street.

Tavish tugs a small Glock sub-compact from a boot holster and returns fire, booting the gas grenades out of the stairwell. Ril fires the remainder of his magazine into the glass front doors, then reloads. Tavish gestures quickly with squinted eyes, trying to keep them open in the presence of the CS tear gas in the stairwell. Opla sees the handsignal, and dives out of the stairwell, firing blindly as he charges for the front doors. A DNPD SWAT officer unhooks himself from his rappel line, and fires at this new target. Opla staggers slightly as a pair of .38 Special's cut into his left arm and ribcage. Tavish, seeing his technician take a hit, charges into the lobby with Ril on his heels, knocking Opla out into the street. Lt. Aclyder unhooks slightly before his boots touch the lobby carpet and he hits the floor running, his Jackal spraying rounds at 800 rounds per minute. Tavish puts a pair of 9mm rounds into the frontal shockplate of Aclyder's vest, knocking him to the floor. Tavish's crew piles into Opla's car (This includes Orlenski and 'C'), and they speed off.

Acylder picks himself up from the floor, quickly ejecting the dry clip from his SMG and loading a fresh one.

"F**k! All DNPD units, suspect known as Evan Tavish is fleeing in a large sedan. Intercept at all costs."

Acylder shouts into his shoulder mic.

He turns to the LRR operatives.

"You people got a ride? We're taking this to the streets, that bastard ain't leavin' this city."

"Yep. We've got a car."

Dennek points to a small white Volvo sedan outside on the other side of the street.

"Right, so where are we going now?" Orlenski asks, catching his breath and holstering his pistol. "Are those police guys good, by the way? I didn't have much time to do research before I got here."

The LRR agents quickly board their car. Dennek leans out the driver's side window and attaches a small siren to the roof. His companion turns it on, then off, and checks his G-36. He has another drum magazine ready for use. He folds its stock, and gets in position at the passenger's side window. The car's frame is coated with Kevlar to hamper the passage of bullets into the car's interior, and it has a hybrid engine system so as to decrease the chances of an explosion if hit in the engine. Dennek slams his foot on the gas pedal and takes off in the direction which the terrorists went.

"DPND units, this is IGHWS-1. We are in pursuit of Tavish and company and we will wait for your clearance before we shoot, over."

Tavish responds without looking over his shoulder, the black Sedan doing well over 90 MPH at this point.

"Aye. The DNPD aren't a group o' lads you wanna f**k with. Aim for the ones with the PMG's first, or they'll turn you into haggis, the chunky kind."

Above Tavish's vehicle...

The voice of Lt. Aclyder crackles over the LRR agent's radio.

"LRR agents, you are clear to fire. Our Kingfisher is moving into position above Tavish's vehicle. We appreciate your help. Aclyder out."

Tavish responds without looking over his shoulder, the black Sedan doing well over 90 MPH at this point.

"Aye. The DNPD aren't a group o' lads you wanna f**k with. Aim for the ones with the PMG's first, or they'll turn you into haggis, the chunky kind."

Above Tavish's vehicle...

The voice of Lt. Aclyder crackles over the LRR agent's radio.

"LRR agents, you are clear to fire. Our Kingfisher is moving into position above Tavish's vehicle. We appreciate your help. Aclyder out."

"Thankyou."

Dennek switches on the siren, right behind Tavish's car. His companion leans out the window and starts shooting into Tavish's black sedan.

Tavish steps on the gas as he heads into downtown. His righthand man, Ril, busts out the back window and begins to fire at the windshield of the pursuing car. Above, Aclyder and his DNPD officers open fire with Jackal SMG's and Arachnid PMG's, most of the rounds plinking off of the armored hood of the vehicle.

OOC: I'd like Tavish to appear in a few more RP's after this one, not to bash your agent's shooting skills.

Tavish steps on the gas as he heads into downtown. His righthand man, Ril, busts out the back window and begins to fire at the windshield of the pursuing car. Above, Aclyder and his DNPD officers open fire with Jackal SMG's and Arachnid PMG's, most of the rounds plinking off of the armored hood of the vehicle.

OOC: I'd like Tavish to appear in a few more RP's after this one, not to bash your agent's shooting skills.

The two LRR agents duck down in time to avoid the fire from Ril's Kalashnikov. The ak-47 rounds destroy the windshield, but also leave a clear line of fire for the LRR agents. As soon as Ril's magazine is empty, the LRR agents begin shooting back. The drum-fed G-36 is fired by Dennek's companion, while he shoots away with his M1911.

Ril quickly slaps a fresh mag into his AK, grabbing Opla roughly by the collar and tugging him down to avoid the gunfire. Tavish, on the other hand, seems unphased as a .45 screams past him bald head. Briefly handing the wheel to 'C', he grabs his Berretta from the dashboard and leans out the window, firing a few rounds at the front wheels of the vehicle before ducking back inside and taking control of the vehicle.

In the DNPD Kingfisher...

Lt. Aclyder curses as the sedan scoots into downtown, a mass of tightly-compacted buildings. There would be little room for the cars to manuver, much less the large helicopter. There would be no room for error... Aclyder knocked a new magazine on his helmet a couple of times before driving it into place and resuming the barrage of fire.

"This is the wrong moment to mention that I don't know anything about this city, isn't it?" 'C' asked.

Tavish's eyes don't leave the road.

"That may be, lad, but I do."

In the back seat, Opla finishes a turnicate for his arm, then begins firing at the DNPD Kingsfisher with the MP5.

"Think this works better." 'C' said smiling while he looked at Opla and took another charge.
"Shall I or do you want?"

A series of bullets rip along the side of the car, killing Opla instantly.
Tavish frowns slightly, motioning for Ril to hand 'C' the MP5.

"I wouldn't do that lad. Use the SMG, the damn thing won't come down on us if you shoot the bastards off of the sides."

The LRR agents continue firing on Tavish's car. With the G-36 on full automatic, it would be very dangerous to expose oneself in their line of fire. The volvo speeds along behind Tavish's automobile. However, soon the damage to the volvo becomes too high. The agents reach their backup car, a trabant, and speed off in pursuit of the terrorists in true soviet style. The siren blares at full volume. Dennek holsters his M1911 and grabs an Ak-74 from the back seat. He steadies the bipod on the hood and begins firing at full automatic.

OOC: LRR, have your guys stopped firing yet or not?

OOC: Tavish's car has the works in reguards to bullet-proofing. The body conceals five inches of ceramic shockplates, which will stop anything up to a .300 magnum, a .357 magnum, or a .50 anti-material. The windows are pretty much gone at this point, but have been interwoven with ballistic-grade Nomex fibers.

IC:
The car squeels around a corner, on two wheels at the height of the turn. Tavish floors the gas pedal and drives into a parking gaurage. Tavish and Ril exit hastily, leaving Opla's body in the car. The DCA members and the mysterious 'C' disappear into the city, heading back to a safehouse that the DNPD will get a tip on in the next few days.

The Kingfisher lands on the roof as the LRR team pulls into the gaurage shortly after Tavish and his crew escape. Lt. Aclyder meets them at the car, wiping sweat from his brow, his helmet sitting on the trunk of the car.

"He's still in the city, and we got his techie, so he won't be disrupting any of our records on DCA safehouses."

BUMP?