NationStates Jolt Archive

KOMATSU INT'L AIRPORT
HAYASHIMA, CIELONIA
1315 CIELONIAN STANDARD TIME

Slowly the behemoth CielAir Boeing 474 pulled to a stop outside the airport terminal, its destination reached after a fairly standard trip out of southeast Asia. The white jetliner bore the green and yellow insignia of its parent company on its tail fin, a green triangle with a yellow border.

"Now arriving at the terminal," came a voice inside the facility, "Flight 213 from Hehai Jiantum in Leng Jinjao."

It didn't take long for the doors to come down and the passengers to begin filtering off the plane. Most of them were Jinjai tourists, perhaps a few seeking to escape the oppressive regime of the House of Leng; others were Cielonians coming home from vacation in that formerly war-ravaged country's still-lush jungles.

One of them, however, was neither. The man was tall and built, about six foot one and without an ounce of fat on his tough but nimble frame. Brown-haired, hazel-eyed, and with a beard tracing along his jawline and chin, he wasn't really the type to stand out in a crowd aside from his height; other than that he was moderately handsome, rugged, but otherwise nondescript. This, however, cannot explain why he'd chosen to hide in the luggage compartment in the back.

Calmly, the man waited behind a luggage pile; the pickup boy would be along any minute. And sure enough, the rear door opened to admit a youthful luggage handler in blue livery.

Drawing the boy's attention was no problem. The man simply closed his eyes and focused on something...

A suitcase stack at the other end of the room shuddered and collapsed with a loud clatter of luggage. With a little yelp of surprise the boy turned. "What the... oh." Alas, the distraction proved enough for the stranger to slip out the open doors, making his way towards the terminal.

-----

DOWNTOWN
HAYASHIMA, CIELONIA
1443 CIELONIAN STANDARD TIME

Rain pattered against the windows of the black limousine as it trundled through the streets of downtown Hayashima, led by a gloss-black Etsuya Sanchou sport utility vehicle and followed by another. Resting his head against the back of the seat, Lucien watched out the window to his right, invisible through the tint to outsiders but still able to watch the buildings rolling past.

"Worried?"

Blinking a bit, Lucien lookedover to the left at the man next to him. Though nearly a full two decades Lucien's senior Akira Tsuda was nonetheless a few inches shorter, his features strong and handsome but his short hair touched liberally with grey.

"A little, I guess," Lucien admitted, exhaling softly as he raked a hand through his own sunfire hair. "It's sort of nerve-wracking to come out of one election campaign and go straight to another."

Akira nodded knowingly at that. "Don't worry about it too much, Luc. Judging from the referendum the people support you overwhelmingly."

"That's not really what I'm worried about."

"Mm?"

Pursing his lips, Lucien lowered his gaze to the floor, trying to put his finger on exactly what was bothering him. "...I guess I feel like things are moving too quickly, that's all. I mean, it wasn't even four years ago that there was no Cielonia, and now here I come changing things around."

Briskly, Akira clapped Lucien on the shoulder, giving him a firm squeeze. "You're doing the right thing by the people," he offered by way of assurance.

"That's comforting."

The two exchanged light smiles. Though the words of his chosen Deputy Prime Minister did comfort Lucien a little, something still nagged at him.

Why did he suddenly feel the urge to fix that face so firmly in his memory...?

-----

HAYASHIMA HILTON
HAYASHIMA, CIELONIA
1449 CIELONIAN STANDARD TIME

A navy-blue Cabriolet Puuma screeched to a halt in an alley behind the Hayashima Hilton hotel. Kicking the driver's side door open, the man emerged, brushing himself off and immediately making for a side door.

The Hilton's emergency escape stairwell was enclosed in a narrow concrete chute rising up the side of the building. Quickly the man, clad in a nondescript button-down off-white shirt, black gloves, and a pair of jeans beneath a charcoal windbreaker, made his way up the stairs. A single number was on his mind as he moved.

801.

-----

HAYASHIMA HILTON
HAYASHIMA, CIELONIA
1451 CIELONIAN STANDARD TIME

The limousine pulled up in the turnaround in front of the Hilton along with the SUV escort. From the rear of the two vehicles a Secret Service agent emerged, striding to the limousine and holding the rear door open.

Akira was the first to exit, climbing out with a little groan of effort; he'd always had a bit of a bad back. Lucien moved to follow him - but his cellphone suddenly rang. The young Prime Minister frowned and ducked back into the vehicle, pulling out the phone and flipping it open. "LeBlanc."

"We've got a small problem, sir," came the voice of one of his aides on the other end. "Mai is supposed to be delivering an address at the Loyal Convention Centre at 1530, but she's come down with a fever-"

"-and you need someone to fill in."

"Yes, sir. If you could just find someone to-"

"No, no, don't worry about it. I'll come down there myself."

The aide's voice positively dripped with relief. "Thank you, sir."

"Any time."

As Lucien hung up, Akira peeked back into the limousine, cocking a thin eyebrow. "What's the trouble, Luc?"

"Mai's come down sick," Lucien explained, "so I'm going to fill in for her. You go on ahead, Akira."

"Right. Good luck."

"Thanks. You too."

With that Lucien ducked back into the limousine, the Secret Service man closing the door behind him. As the young man watched Akira go he frowned, that nagging feeling once more tugging at the pit of his stomach even as the limousine began to pull away.

-----

EIGHTH FLOOR
HAYASHIMA HILTON
1452 CIELONIAN STANDARD TIME

The hallway was empty, and thanks to a convenient application of mental focus the lone surveillance camera was now gazing devotedly at only one side of the corridor. Thus, the man fell well outside its visual range as he drew a skeleton key from his pocket, unlocking and opening the door to suite 801 and stepping inside, locking the door behind him.

The room was dark; nobody was home. A suitcase lay upon each of the two large beds in the other room; in the main room sat a dining table and four plush chairs. Pulling out one of the chairs, the man lowered himself into a seat, his body facing the doorway.

And he reached into his coat and pulled out a slim black pistol, and waited.

-----

EIGHTH FLOOR
HAYASHIMA HILTON
1455 CIELONIAN STANDARD TIME

The elevator dinged lightly as the doors opened onto the eighth floor. Unaccompanied by security, Akira emerged and made a beeline for the suite he and Lucien shared.

"God, I'll be glad when this is all over," he muttered as he fished around for his key. While he'd been through many elections and by-elections in his time, most dating back to long before the unification, they never got any easier - as Lucien was finding out. The kid would make a great Prime Minister, fortunately, especially once experience had hardened him.

Akira smiled faintly at the thought of the young man's enthusiasm as he unlocked the door and stepped into his suite.

-----

SUITE 801
HAYASHIMA HILTON
1456 CIELONIAN STANDARD TIME

"Surprise," said the man to the shocked politician who'd just slammed the suite door shut behind him.

And then he fired, once, twice, thrice, again, and again, and again, and again.

When it was all over Akira lived no more.

-----

DOWNTOWN
HAYASHIMA, CIELONIA
1502 CIELONIAN STANDARD TIME

Things had most decidedly NOT gone as well as he had hoped.

The man had left his car behind, leaving whatever authorities would come to discover it and draw a false conclusion. He'd instead stolen a parked sedan and begun to casually cruise towards the nearest highway, beginning to make his way out of Hayashima. He'd managed to make good his escape - but he did so knowing that he'd only managed to finish half the job.

He'd been expecting Leblanc and Tsuda to arrive together, but the Prime Minister had thwarted that prediction. While killing Tsuda himself would suffice, killing Leblanc would've been SO much better...

Ah well. In his business you took what you could get.

He managed to smile just a little as he cruised onto the freeway, the faint sound of sirens in the distance mingling with the sounds of engines much nearer.

-----

LOYAL CONVENTION CENTRE
HAYASHIMA, CIELONIA
1505 CIELONIAN STANDARD TIME

Fortunately for Lucien it was a small task to adapt Mai's speech, replacing a few things here, modifying a few there, but otherwise keeping the point intact. Lucien sat in a chair in a back room, going over the text once more, committing the high points to memory.

His phone then rang. "Now what," he muttered as he flipped it open and held it to his ear. "Lucien."

As the man on the other end spoke Lucien's face went white, eyes widening. "Oh my God."

-----

TSUDA SHOT DEAD
Leblanc vows to bring unknown killer to justice

HAYASHIMA, Cielonia - Incumbent Deputy Prime Minister Akira Tsuda was murdered sometime around 3:00PM today, returning to his room at the Hayashima Hilton after a campaign rally.

Tsuda, 53, was shot seven times by an unknown assailant, four times in the chest, once in the head, and twice in the neck.

It is not known how the assailant was able to enter Tsuda's suite or evade detection by the corridor surveillance camera. The window was not opened or tampered with.

A visibly shaken Prime Minister Leblanc was able to comment on the murder. "Cielonia has lost a good man in Akira," he said, clearly fighting back tears. "Whoever did this will be found. I promise that we will do everything in our power to find the killer and bring him to justice."

Federal Criminal Investigations Division agents have recovered the bullets used to slay Tsuda and have quarantined a blue 1997 Cabriolet Puuma found illegally parked in an alley behind the Hilton, license plate JKS-623Y. The vehicle's owner, who has not been named, has been brought in for questioning but claims his vehicle was stolen earlier in the day.

The Hayashima airport and the city's ports have been shut down in an effort to prevent the murderer from leaving the city.

HAYASHIMA POLICE DEPARTMENT
HAYASHIMA, CIELONIA
11:51 CLST

"So here's what we've got," grunted the overweight Commissioner Bowman as he slapped a document down on the plain wooden table. "Seven bullets, all manufactured in Kaaliaq and sold at markets all over the world. A blue '96 Puuma stolen from the airport about fifteen minutes after a flight came in from Leng Jinjao. A white Malibu stolen from the Hilton parking lot. One misaimed surveillance camera, a flight full of tourists all accounter for, a dead politician, and not a hell of a lot by way of answers."

"What I don't understand is why someone from Leng Jinjao would come out to kill Cielonian politicians," said the lean black-haired man leaning against the wall. With a light frown Captain Aubrey Landraux of the Cielonian Federal Intelligence Agency stroked at his short goatee.

From her seat at the opposite end of the table Major Valerie Soucie sighed, raking a hand through her short blonde hair and crossing her long right leg over her left. "We don't necessarily know that this originated IN Leng Jinjao," she pointed out, folding her hands in her lap. "Whoever did this was smart enough to cover his tracks pretty well. For all we know he used Leng Jinjao as a cover and came there from somewhere else entirely."

"That's probably true... the House of Leng has its own problems keeping order. Doubt they'd care about killing Cielonian politicians."

Valerie shrugged a little. "You never know with tinpot dictatorships, Captain."

"Yeah, I guess."

"The real question is whether or not this guy will kill again. I've got people all over the country searching for the white car. We've got the plates, at least."

"Do we have a description?" huffed Bowman.

"Not of the suspect," said Aubrey with a slow shake of his head. "I still don't know how he managed to move that camera without being seen..."

Valerie's expression darkened a little; she had her own theory about that. "I suspect we could be dealing with a psycher."

One of Aubrey's eyebrows shot up. "That'd explain the camera, yeah... though I didn't think there were many psychers outside the Special Forces and CFIA."

"There are some. Why d'you think I was assigned to this job?"

The dark-haired man smiled a little, adjusting his shirt collar. "Psychers hunting psychers, huh?"

She grinned rather mischieviously. "Something like that-"

The door to the office suddenly swung open in a convenient bit of action-flick timing, surprising Valerie enough that she kipped to her feet. Fortunately the harmless officer at the door was holding only a printout. "We've got the car," he breathed. "It was found abandoned behind a mall in Duponte."

Valerie and Aubrey exchanged glances. The goateed man frowned a bit. "What's in Duponte?"

"Nothing all that important, just the Pr-" She stopped herself and snapped her fingers. "...the Prime Minister's next scheduled campaign rally tomorrow at noon."

"I thought he cancelled."

"No, it's still on... but I've got an idea here."

"Oh?"

"I'll tell you on the way to Duponte," she said as she headed towards the door, beckoning for Aubrey to follow. "Let's just say I've got a pretty good idea what he's after."

HIGHWAY 303
APPROACH TO DUPONTE, CIELONIA
0717 CLST

In spite of everything, the show went on.

Lucien had been sorely tempted to cancel the rally in Duponte today. Surely nobody would have blamed him; after all, it was only two days ago when Akira had been shot and killed, with his funeral scheduled for tomorrow. Yet at the same time the world couldn't just stop moving... and after the phone call he'd received from CFIA, he'd decided just to go ahead.

Across from him in the back of the limo sat Major Soucie, a slim and gracefully pretty short-haired blonde in a black suit. Beside her was Captain Landraux, dark-haired and similarly suited.

"You don't have to go through with this, sir," Soucie said for about the fifth time, though the faint resignation in her voice told Lucien she didn't really expect to change his mind.

"I've said it before," said the young man with a shake of his head. "I want whoever did this brought to justice, and I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make sure he is. If he's here to kill me and I don't come out, whoever it is will just go back into hiding and we'll probably never get another chance to catch him."

"...You're taking an awfully big risk."

"I'm a leader of men, Major. Every time I leave my house I run the risk of having some wacko put a bullet in my head. It's unnerving, but at the same time I can't shut down because I might die."

"The risk is a lot higher this time around," warned Soucie, "but if you want to go through with this I don't suppose I can convince you otherwise."

Lucien smiled faintly at her, a gesture he didn't really feel. "I appreciate your concern, but I feel obligated to do my part. If there's any chance at all you can apprehend the killer we need to take full advantage of it."

The two agents nodded a little.

With a rush of light breath Lucien once more reclined, resting his hands on his forehead and looking up at the ceiling.

I must have a goddamn death wish.

-----

EAST SIDE BURGER SULTAN
DUPONTE
1111 CLST

Thank God for joints that stopped serving breakfast at 10:30.

The man had changed now into darker jeans and a tan button-down shirt, a pair of sturdy brown boots covering his feet. Sitting at a table near the window, he bit into what was left of a double cheeseburger - paid for, of course, using the cash he'd stolen from the glove compartment of the long-abandoned white car. And yes, he HAD handled the money with his usual gloves, which he'd fortunately removed to eat. For all intents and purposes he appeared to be little more than a worker taking his lunch break early.

Swallowing his bite of burger, he checked his watch. The rally started in about fifteen minutes, though it would probably take awhile longer for Leblanc to actually get up to the podium and start yacking.

The relatively quiet killing of Tsuda had put the country on its toes. A suitably shocking death for their pretty little Prime Minister would drive them all completely nuts.

But there was still plenty of time...

...Enough, at any rate, for him to finish his burger in peace.

-----

LANCASTER PARK
DUPONTE
1159 CLST

"Alright," said Valerie softly as she adjusted her shades, her mind falling into a razor-sharp focus. Barely a minute remained before the start of the rally; the killer would surely emerge when Lucien did, hoping to catch him unawares. "When you get out there I'll be watching from behind the curtain. We have men on the rooftops, we have two choppers up above, we've got cops on the perimeter - and if all that fails I'm there."

The smile on the young Prime Minister's face seemed to Valerie to be a little TOO relaxed. "Alright; I trust you."

"Thank you, sir."

With a light smile the young man looked out through the curtain as the crowd began to cheer, an older Social Democratic parliamentary candidate striding out to meet them. "It's starting," Lucien murmured.

At that Valerie just nodded.

-----

APARTMENT B205
DUPONTE
1201 CLST

The apartment's inhabitants were apparently out on the job. Just as well for the man who slipped through the door by way of a skeleton key. Fortunately there were no surveillance cameras this time around.

Making his way to the apartment's lone bedroom, he dropped his black duffel bag on the bed and flung it open. Swiftly he assembled his sniper rifle, as usual wrapping the barrel with a heavy length of cloth to help muffle the sound of the bullet. He didn't bother adding the laser scope, simply going with the typical lens.

With his advantages a laser would be unnecessary.

Drawing the blinds, he knelt near the window and pushed open just a sliver, enough that he could zoom his scope in and see the stage erected in the middle of the park, the podium in the centre clearly lined up. Some windbag was speaking, but Leblanc was scheduled to follow.

Thus, he waited.

-----

LANCASTER PARK
DUPONTE
1213 CLST

Applause followed the old candidate as he left the stage. Valerie closed her eyes for a moment before turning to Lucien, nodding slowly. "It's time."

The sunfire-blonde swallowed and returned the nod. "Alright," he whispered as he turned, stepping through the curtain and onto the stage to thunderous applause from the crowd.

Valerie couldn't sense any hostility or danger, at least not yet - that is, her danger sense, honed through years of mental discipline, wasn't telling her anything. Thus she simply stood by the curtain, listening to Lucien begin his speech.

"I want to thank everyone for coming out here today to meet with us," the man's voice came through the curtain. "I know that things seem frightening given the tragedy that befell my dear friend and colleague Akira Tsuda, but we must not let ourselves give in to fear. Cielonia will move on, and the Cielonian people will move on; we will not let fearmongers, criminals, and wrongdoers cow us into submission."

A roar of appause ensued.

When it died down Lucien's voice continued, beginning to speak about something related to Social Security. Valerie was only half-listening, however, still focusing intently on her senses.

If there WAS a danger, she'd spot it.

-----

APARTMENT B205
DUPONTE
1221 CLST

The man couldn't hear Leblanc from his vantage point, but he could see him. The effeminate blond moved slightly as he spoke, but the man was able to keep him lined up in his sights, mental focus heightening his reflexes.

He allowed Leblanc to dig into his speech for awhile, letting the drama build.

And then he squeezed the trigger.

-----

LANCASTER PARK
DUPONTE
1221 CLST

Nothing but crowd noise was registering. Valerie frowned a little, a bit surprised the killer hadn't made an appearance yet. Perhaps he'd fled the country in fear after the Tsuda incident, or-

-Her mind suddenly screamed. Time seemed to jerk into slow motion. Blurred images flickered in her vision.

A shadowy figure in a window, lurking behind the swaddled profile of a rifle, his face briefly lost in the blur of a light muzzle flash...

...Shit.

As she burst through the curtain and hurtled towards Lucien's right side it seemed as though the flow of time had grown sluggish despite her mentally enhanced senses. Her focus intensified all the more. She knew full well that his life depended on her speed.

The bullet seemed to leave ripples in the air as it screamed towards its prey...

For a moment everything seemed to hang motionless. The bullet, seeming to float leisurely through the open air towards Lucien. Valerie, almost hanging in midair as she hurled herself towards the Prime Minister. Lucien, just staring in surprise at the woman as she charged. The crowd, struck by confusion at the blonde agent's sudden emergence.

And then Valerie plowed into Lucien, and as she and he fell to the ground a loud hiss assailed her ears. The bullet zipped past, missing her body by mere inches and tearing through the stage behind her.

Over the sudden roar of the crowd Valerie flipped her cellphone open, beginning to herd Lucien off the stage and into the back. "Aubrey! Apartment on the south side!" She'd been able to sense THAT much in that momentary flash of premonition...

-----

APARTMENT B205
DUPONTE
1221 CLST

Goddammit.

Rapidly yanking the barrel off his rifle, the man stuffed the two halves of it into his duffel bag, fishing out the silenced pistol that lay near the bottom and stuffing it into his pocket, covering the grip with his shirt. Again that damn kid had thwarted him.

No, not the kid. The woman. The source of that fleeting touch on his mind...

Another psycher. Shit.

Knowing it wouldn't take long for the police to make an appearance, the man quit the apartment in a hurry, making a beeline for the stairs. He was half a flight down when he sensed a presence approaching the building's back door - probably a cop. Scowling, he fished his gun out of his pocket and made for the door anyway, kicking it open.

Sure enough, it was a cop. The black-uniformed man was caught flat-footed by the man's emergence - and that cost him his life, as the assassin casually shot him in the forehead as he strode from the building and continued on past the collapsing corpse as if nothing had happened.

For now he kept to the alley network between the two apartment-lined streets, moving quickly but keeping either in shadow or with his profile at least partially obscured by the urban landscape. Cops were bound to be all over -

A distant thrum caught his ear, and he cursed mentally.

Fuck, copter.

He could hear the sirens wailing all around him, many growing closer by the second. Stealth was beginning to seem like less and less of an option. Nimbly he dipped into his bag and withdrew a fierce-looking Phantom submachine gun, slinging a few clips into his pocket for easy access. His jaw tightened and his eyes narroweed as he neared a parking lot, extending his thoughts around the corner of the alley opening. Three cops. Hm.

The man gave them no warning. He simply strode around the corner and started firing, continuing to walk with each burst of fire. His aim, enhanced by psychic focus, was true; the three cops went down quickly, one managing to fire off a shot that smashed into the back window of a van.

As the helicopter's sound drew closer the killer glanced quickly about, soon finding a vehicle that suited his purposes - a sleek motorcycle, black with a brilliant white diagonal stripe along the tail. It took him a few seconds to jam a pin into the ignition and pick the lock; the vehicle revved to life with a throaty rumble. Pausing only to reload his trusty Phantom and shove his duffel bag into the cargo hatch beneath the tail, he then gunned the engine and made for the streets.

-----

SKIES OVER DUPONTE
1226 CLST

"I dunno, we just lost 'em," the officer in the copilot's seat reported.

As the police helicopter whirled towards the apartment Valerie had pointed out, Aubrey scowled and adjusted his headset. "Val, we've lost four signals down there," he reported. "Sounds like someone's gunning down officers."

-----

DUPONTE
1226 CLST

"Roger that," Valerie responded shortly, watching with her sleek black pistol in hand as the four CFIA agents ushered Lucien into an armored car, speeding him away from danger. "Any sign of him?"

"Nothing yet," Aubrey's voice came back. "Could be... wait a second. We've got a motorbike gunning south down the yellow line on Eighteenth."

"That's him," she said simply. "Get a car on him. I'll be right there."

Adjusting her headset, the woman whipped her shades onto her face and stalked towards a police officer about to take off on a motorcycle. "CFIA. I need your vehicle."

"Yes sir," the cop answered, stepping back.

Quickly Valerie boosted herself onto the motorcycle, tilting forward a bit and taking off without hesitation; the tires squealed against the asphalt underfoot as she roared into the streets, not even bothering to activate the siren. Her right hand gripped the handlebars tightly, left holding both the handle and her gun.

"Thinks he can get away that easy, huh," she muttered.

-----

DUPONTE
1227 CLST

With four cops down there was no way the man was going to escape this clean, so he just roared out of the lot and into the street, nearly hitting a car as he zipped towards the yellow line dividing the lanes. Tilting forward to improve his aerodynamics, he gritted his teeth as he blazed southward. If he could get out onto the highway and head east to the marina outside of town he'd be set; there'd no doubt be personal watercraft there for him to steal. The port here would be too heavily guarded to risk.

Behind him sirens wailed red and blue. He glanced back to see a pair of white, green-striped cop cars following him in the proper lane, barely managing to keep pace. Ahead, a third was pulling into the intersection, a fourth behind it.

Not like he was actually going that way anyway.

With a screech of rubber he peeled into an alleyway, blazing across the dirty asphalt. A police car attempted to follow him, its sirens shrieking a banshee wail and its sides scraping the wall to such a degree that the side mirrors were ground off the vehicle. That stopped rather suddenly when the killer leaned back and fired a short burst from his Phantom, catching the driver fatally in the upper body.

Behind him the car ground to a halt, only to buck forward as the car behind it smashed into its aft end. The assassin burst from the alley unscathed and without close pursuit, ducking into a busy street and rushing southward.

He could hear the helicopter overhead and somewhere to the right, envying the vehicle for not having to keep to roads or other areas accessible by traffic. Nonetheless he kept on, glancing to the right as he sped through the intersection. A cop car skidded in from that direction, beginning to pursue him with sirens wailing. He opted not to shoot back at the vehicle just yet, instead keeping towards another intersection just ahead - a yellow light.

The motorcycle rider made it through just as the light turned red.

The cop car was not so lucky. It sped through the light... only to get T-boned by another police car coming from the left, both cars spinning out of control. A third car, also coming from the left, managed to avoid the collision, but the task of dodging the other two vehicles slowed it down a bit, giving him a decent lead.


As that third car began to accelerate Valerie's motorcycle came blistering in from the north one block over. "Alright, Aubrey, where's he going," she said shortly into her headset as she gunned towards an intersection.

"Heading southbound towards H303. Hang a left, then a right."

"Roger." Even as the man in the helicopter spoke Valerie burst through the intersection on a red light, narrowly avoiding a collision as she headed east towards another intersection.

As she approached she spotted the other bike flying through, southbound as predicted - and in that moment her psi-senses again kicked in. There seemed to be a brief pause in time as every feature of his face stood out in her mind.

A rugged, fierce-eyed man, with shoulder-length brown hair and a chin-tracing beard, his brown shirt billowing behind him, a submachine gun gripped in his fist... and a fleeting touch on her mind causing her danger sense to scream...

That moment was shared by the man as he looked over to see the motorcycle approaching. His senses screamed as he spotted her and felt that touch of psycho-sense. He knew instantly what she was - a danger more real than a bunch of cops.

THAT bitch. Goddamn.

As the man blasted through the intersection he fired a quick burst in Valerie's direction, but she swerved and let the volley screech past her. She came skidding into a turn to fall in a distance behind him but ahead of the tailing police cars - there were three now. Her bike rumbled beneath her as she went roaring after the assassin, clenching her teeth as she tried to line up a shot.

The man stymied that effort quickly as he approached an artificial causeway ahead - a road bridge constructed over a rail line running through a trench below ground level. He didn't hesitate at all. Rather, he sped onto the sidewalk and went blazing towards the chain link fence separating the lot next to the trench from the embankment leading down to the tracks.

That didn't stop him; he just shot through much of it, and his momentum snapped the rest.

Valerie followed him; though he was briefly out of sight he was hardly out of mind. Speeding through the opening, she vaulted her bike down onto the tracks and started down the gravel groove between the two rail lines.

Her safe path didn't last long; she was forced onto one of the tracks, then further right as the man fired back at her. The two plunged into a tunnel a moment later. As she followed him in Valerie fired off a shot at him, but the man hunched forward to send the shot whistling overhead.

The tunnel soon ended, a hill ahead lifting the rails into a steady climb over the Duponte Expressway, which merged further east onto Highway 303. The man smiled a little and dove completely off the rail bridge before the side guard began. His bike sailed above the highway in a high arc before beginning to descend diagonally towards the freeway.

When he landed he was nearly hit by a semi-truck but managed to swerve to move with the traffic, riding the shoulder of the freeway. Valerie chose not to take that risk, speeding down the rest of the bridge to curve around and descend along the embankment of the hill to merge into traffic without TOO much trouble. Though she was still behind, the assassin's near-disaster with the truck had cost him enough momentum that she could still see him.

Thus did the killer speed down the freeway with Valerie close behind, the helicopter whirling somewhere overhead...

The two motorcycles blazed down the Duponte freeway, the killer a good distance ahead, Valerie slightly behind. Further back came Aubrey's chopper, a second one much further off in the distance. The bikes weaved crazily through traffic.

Valerie's jaw clenched a little as she attempted to keep out of the man's firing range. A few bullets zipped by her, but she evaded by taking cover behind a semi-truck. Though the killer was out of sight he was far from out of mind; she could sense him, albeit faintly through the roar, and was thus able to keep track of his progress.

When she emerged from behind the truck she swerved in behind the man's bike again, firing a shot from her pistol at him. It missed; he was able to swerve left, swinging into traffic and nearly colliding with a van. Quickly he leaned over and fired back.

The volley from his SMG was evaded; Valerie sensed it coming, swinging her bike onto the shoulder to let it whistle past. The bullets instead bit into the side of a sedan behind her, causing the driver to swerve in terror. This led to the next car back rear-ending the sedan. The third car swerved to evade but ended up smashing into a pickup truck.

Valerie, however, paid the traffic chaos little mind, continuing to chase after the killer. She popped off another shot at him.

He evaded THAT simply by swerving into oncoming traffic.

"He did NOT just do that," she muttered.

A semi-truck nearly smashed into the killer's bike, but he was able to lean aside, blasting past the truck and weaving through the oncoming vehicles to eventually make it to the shoulder. Through the rush of traffic Valerie couldn't get a clear shot at him; the myriad of vehicles made it impossible for bullets to get through. Thus she rode onto the shoulder of her own lane, not venturing to the grassy median but simply waiting her out.

"You've got an up bridge ahead," Aubrey's voice crackled in her headset.

Indeed, there WAS a bridge up ahead. The coastline of Cielonia flowed inwards further up, forming the mouth of a river that would wind a distance into the country's landscape towards a port town further in. A bridge had been built across that length of water - a bridge that was currently split up the middle, the two sides rising slowly to admit a particularly tall lake freighter to pass beneath. Thus, traffic in the man's lane abruptly cut off.

"Right," Valerie responded, swinging into the empty lane and taking a shot at the killer; he swerved wildly, letting it whistle past. Rather than returning fire he hunched further over the bike's handles, picking up speed.

"He's gonna do it," she breathed.

And indeed he did - he rode clean up the bridge as the road continued to rise, going flying off the edge.

Valerie followed him.

As the two bikes arced over the expanse both riders turned and leveled their weapons, beginning to fire. Each bullet seemed to leave a rippling tail in its wake. With no ground to press against the drivers had no means of evading the shots. Thus, while several shots did go wide, many more connected. One of the man's bullets grazed Valerie's shoulder, another blew out a spoke on her tire, another shattered her windshield and sprayed her chest and body with glass, another bit through the tail of the bike, another grazed against her thigh. Meanwhile, one of hers nicked a hole in the fuel tank of the man's bike, and another dug into his side.

And then the two vehicles landed, swerving into the empty lane - the right one this time.

Grimacing at the pain shooting through her shoulder and leg, Valerie ignored the little cuts along her shoulders from the glass; most had been buffeted by her suit, but a few had cut through.

The man, meanwhile, was rather worse off. Grimacing, he shut the pain in his side out of his mind and stuffed his gun into his pocket, fishing around in another to whip out a grenade - which he unpinned and hurled back at the woman.

"Oh Jesus," Valerie breathed as she saw the projectile hurtling towards her.

She threw on her brakes abruptly - and fortunately that action saved her. The grenade hit the road in front of her and exploded, throwing shrapnel and smoke into the air and forcing her to shield herself with her arms.

When the smoke finally cleared a smoking, burning hole lay in the highway, a plume of noxious smoke rising from it. Grimacing, Valerie started her bike and steered around it, but the stop had allowed the killer to gain a lead. "Where's he going, Aubrey?"

"I dunno. Looks like he stopped just before the interchange."

"Right." Without another word Valerie took off after him.

-----

The highway interchange was a fairly simple affair. The Duponte freeway formed a bridge over Highway 303 below, onramps and offramps connecting the two. Further north lay a pedestrian bridge over 303. Knowing that the ramps down to 303 would be guarded, the man had stopped before hitting the interchange and dismounted, hoofing it towards the walkway.

As he moved he wedged the tip of his switchblade into the bullet would in his side, growling in pain as he wedged the bullet out. Quickly he exchanged that weapon for a canteen, fishing it from his duffel bag and wetting down the wound before wadding a kerchief over it and wrapping a strip of fabric about his waist to secure the makeshift bandage. With that he strode onto the walkway, looking over the edge.

He smiled a little as he sensed something approaching. Slowly he turned, resting his back against the rail - just as the click of a gun at the end of the walkway reached his ears.

"Hands up," came the woman's voice. "It's over."

-----

"Hands up," Valerie barked as she jerked her pistol towards the brown-haired man. "It's over."

The man was motionless, simply standing there with a wry smile on his face. "You do realize you haven't accomplished anything, right?" he said in a gravelly voice, words saturated with dripping mirth.

"Don't give me that shit. Hands behind your head, NOW."

"Yes, mother." Slowly the smirking man raised his hands...

...before tipping backwards and falling over the railing of the pedestrian bridge before Valerie could so much as shoot.

-----

Psycho-sense was SO handy when one's life was on the line.

As he fell the man grabbed ahold of the bridge's edge, swinging himself into the roadway to land in front of a red Honda. The car screeched to a halt. Without a pause the man whipped out his Phantom and fired up onto the bridge at the blonde woman, forcing her to take cover. The rest of the round blasted through the Honda's driver's-side window, killing the driver.

Firing another covering volley up at Valerie, the man ejected the corpse from the Honda and hopped in, slamming on the gas and squealing off towards the hills in the distance.

"Fuck!" Valerie cursed as she spotted the car streaking away. She too leapt from the bridge, landing near a black Toyota and waving her pistol at the woman at the wheel. Rushing to the door, she wrenched it open. "CFIA! Out of the car!"

"Okay, okay!" screamed the panicking woman, stumbling from the vehicle. Without so much as a thank-you Valerie flung herself behind the wheel, slammed on the gas, pulled the door closed, and took off after the killer.

By this time the police had been able to catch up. She could hear the helicopters whirling close by; sirens flashed in her rear-view mirror, several squad cars and a heavy prison truck trundling through the parting traffic. Looking back ahead Valerie leaned out her window and squeezed off a shot at the killer, catching him as he pulled his car up a steep hillside leading into an area of elevated coast - cliffs, really.

The bullet smashed out one of the red Honda's taillights; Valerie fired again, blowing out his right rear tire. A third shot sunk into the car just shy of the gas tank.

Gritting his teeth, the killer swung his car along the highway, trying to control it with only three good tires. He leaned back and reloaded his Phantom on the fly, then fired, blowing out his own back windshield but riddling the woman's car with bullets; a white plume of smoke began to belch from her engine.

"Goddammit." Squinting through the smoke, Valerie returned fire; this time her shots riddled the back and side of the murderer's car. A curve in the road was drawing close; she swung towards the innermost lane, hoping to take the turn tightly and gain some ground.

This proved totally unnecessary, as the man didn't even take the turn. He simply drove clean off the cliff.

"...He didn't."

-----

As the red car plunged downwards towards the water the killer grabbed his bag, kicking the door open. He tossed the supplies down first before leaping from the car, knifing towards the water.

He and the car hit at almost the same moment, the car smashing through the waves somewhere behind him and to the right. The man did not surface; he made his way under the water towards his duffel bag, snapping it up and swimming vigorously for the shoreline, where he flung himself into a deep cleft in the rock and concealed himself from view.

-----

The sirens continued to flash around her as Valerie stood at the cliff's edge, peering down into the water far below. She could see the shape of the car down on the sea floor... but no sign of anything moving.

"He's alive," she muttered to herself.

Apparently it was a bit too loud. "No way he survived that fall," came Aubrey's voice in her headset.

With a shake of her head Valerie turned away and began walking towards the nearest squad car. "Never underestimate what a good psycher can do."

-----

COASTLINE OFF DUPONTE
2125 CLST

Through the darkness a figure slunk. The pain in his side had waned now, a dull ache more than anything. He could see the lean figures of Coast Guard patrol boats moving along the shores of the main Cielonian island, but his careful course kept him out of sight, safe from their searchlights.

He would have to make contact with his employer as soon as possible.

The mission, however, was far from over.

--------

OOC: Yeah, this post isn't quite up to par; the forum ate the last version. Meh.

Secret IC...
TOP SECRET - FOR CFIA EYES ONLY
RE: IDENTITY OF THE ASSASSIN
FROM: CFIA CENTRAL PERSONNEL DATABASE

With help from Major Soucie's eyewitness accounts we have identified the murderer of Deputy Prime Minister Tsuda.

A search of the database of known psychers revealed that the assassin is one Camille Gauthier, age 47, who formerly held the rank of Major with CFIA. He was discharged six years ago after being caught collecting choice intelligence on his colleagues for use against them. He left the country and is known to have worked as a gun for hire in most of Asia. Until now he was last spotted in one of the anarchic territories left over from the collapse of Asansol.

Thus far we have almost no solid leads on his motives or those of his potential employers. It is possible he may be acting unilaterally.

Gauthier remains at large; we have increased security around government officials in order to ensure their safety. Until Gauthier is apprehended or killed we must remain on guard.

OOC: Translation: This will continue when I figure out where to go next.