NationStates Jolt Archive


Greater Love Hath No Man

Imitora
15-10-2006, 18:39
OOC: This thread is open to everyone who has RPd with me, or just wants to show up. So yeah, its open.
_

Cane's Nightclub, Houston, Texas

Fortier watched as the situation unfolded, Red getting staked to the wall, Casca getting hit, his own shots taking down another Iconoclast, glass shattering and flying out towards an shock trooper, and the general sounds of combat.

Casca had been to far away to help, and the impact looked deadly. He swung his focus towards Red, the spike having torn through her thigh and slamming into a wall, holding her in place. He made the judgement call, and stood in a low crouch.

"Hey big boy!" he shouted over the roar and cracks of gun fire, "cover me!" He slung the rifle over his shoulder, and kept his head low, moving at a quick sprint towards Red. As he moved around the dead bodies, dodging the flames, and keeping his head away from bullets, he had the distinct feeling that a pair of eyes were baring down on him, watching him. He pushed the thoughts aside, working on keeping his footing in his near run. When he was nothing more than a few short feet from Red, he dropped, letting his legs go out first, sliding to a stop next to her. He unslung the rifle, dropping it next to Red. "Watch my back!" he said, loud enough to be heard over the sound of gunfire.

He gripped the stake, and pulled hard on the metal spear, working to pull it from her leg

It was one of those ideals ground into the head of the young Imitoran Marine. Never, ever leave anyone behind. It was something preached to a majority of forces, an ideal that was often looked at as the act of the true hero, to risk one's life in order to save another.

Robert Fortier, had always thought that the idea itself was pointless. Why risk one life to rescue another, possibly putting yourself in the situation of having to rescue two, then three, then however many more went after the inital downed soldier. However, dispite his inherint thought of the pointlesness of the ideal, he would be the first to charge in after a down commerade. And thats what he had done.

Seeing Red pinned against the wall, injured, immobile, and unarmed, the only thought he had was to get her back to cover. They could take the Iconoclasts, that was certain, but to leave someone out to be a target while others used cover was not something he would let happen. He had ducked out and run, keeping low, and slid in as he had done numerous times in previous situations.

He grabbed the stake, and twisted and pulled, trying to get leverage on a non budging object. And then he felt it. For that last split second, not even that long, a cold, sharp sting just below the base of his skull. A piercing feeling, one that drove and dug in, looking for a stop. And then he fell forward. The hand that had searched for him for years had finally held him in its grasp. The cold touch of death pulled him in to its embrace, and he sleeped the final sleep.

After surviving five wars, several assasination attempts, the loss of two wives, and even the wrath of the true Prince of Darkness, Robert Fortier was dead.
_

Templeton, Imitora

Brent Smith wailed on to the infamous Lynard Skynard lyrics, the dark lyrics of a mother's wish to her son filling the similarly dark garage. The Shinedown cover of Simple Man had become a favorite among the men and women of the Imitoran military, and to former Marine, and most recently former president, Thomas "Hoot" Gibbson, it was no different. He hummed along with the song as he twisted hard on a wrench, loosening the motor mount from the motor on his newest car. Rubber tarps covered the side of the Corvette, and he worked to release the mounts holding the seven liter V8 in place.

"You'll find a woman, and you'll find love, and do forget that there is someone up above," he sang, along with lyrics, one of his favorite lines of the song. He felt the mount break loose, and smiled a small smile of victor. One down, four to go.

Hoot had moved to the small rural suburb just on the outskirts of Northampton just shy of two years earlier, after leaving office. His twin terms, three years each, had gone off without a hitch, and he wanted the rest of his life to go that way as well. He would live in the quiet suburbs, hopefully, for the rest of his days, maybe get a girl, and work on cars. The Imitoran dream.

"Uh, sir," a voice spoke out, breaking the rythym of the song. "Mr. President?"

Hoot hated that. He wasn't the president anymore, so why ask if he was. He sighed, and poked hhis head out from the engine bay. "Yeah," he responded, a hint of attitude in his voice. He went somber when he saw the man. The dress blues of the Imitoran Marine Corps, nothing new to him. He had been an officer, he had worn the same uniform with pride. However, this man had a unique symbol on his uniform. The standard red cords over the right shoulder were black, and pinned to his chest was a set of crossed rifles, holding in place a piece of black cloth. Hoot remebered the same uniform when he had been informed, thirty two years past, that his father had been killed in combat.

"Mr. President, my name is Jason Kenny, Fifth Rifles Division, Imitoran Marine Corp. I have some, well, unfortunate news about Robert Fortier. He had it listed in his last wishes that, should he fall in combat, you be the first notified."

The song had stopped, it was the last track on the CD. At that moment, the only sound in the garage was the metal wrench clanging down to the floor.
_

Northampton Proper, Imitora

The shrill ring of the telephone jolted Capt. Christin Marie "Fireball" Chaffin from her nap, snapping her up to a sitting position. At 48, she was still as nimble, and attractive, as she had been at 22. She moved gracefully across the room, her physical fitness having come from years as a flight command leader for the Imitoran Navy's air forces. She snapped up the phone, popped her neck, and put it to her ear.

"Hey, this is Christin."

Silence. "Yeah, hey, hows it going Hoot? You ok, you kinda sound down?"

Silence.

"Oh my God."
_

Northampton, Imitora. Presidential Mansion

"Yes, ma'am, I'll be sure that we get those numbers from Justice right away. I'm sure that with your new campiagn, the useage must have dropped considerably."

"Christ, John, I hired you on as my CoS to keep things in order and make sure staff relations stay kosher, I don't want you kissing my ass all the time." Courtney Rydell sighed, pushing aside a folder, and grabbing the small typed list that had been given to her by her Chief of Staff, a list of the day's events. "Whats this one, talk to Hoot for arangements? He left office two years ago, I'm pretty sure we've arranged everything we need to."

"Ah no ma'am, its a funeral arrangement. One of his friend's, Capt. Robert Fortier, a Marine with Recon TRACT, took a round on an op. His body is in transit from the op site, he was DOPU. Wen't down trying to rescue another operator, spike to the back of the skull, just below the base."

"Spike?"

"Well, we don't have the full debreif from intell, but thats what they are saying."

"Fine, what do I have to do?"

"Just show up. He was pretty popular in his community, most of the commanders of the different ops units will be there, plus our current CGF and CINCAOC."

"Why can't we just send Benton?"

"He's already going. Friend of Hoot's and Fortier's. So are most of the military personell in attendance."

"Fine, I'll go."
Tanaara
15-10-2006, 19:39
"Mercy...Mercy wake up" Gentle voice, all but a whipser, a gentle hand lightly on her shoulder.

There were so few people that called her that any longer, dared that informality. Her Majesty Mercedez Merrideath Hexx came awake instantly, but unworriedly, for only one of four would have woken her like that, and those four she trusted with her life. Then part of her started to worry, for one of those four to wake her during her traditional afternoon nap...

Clear storm blue eyes took in the faces of the four as Robyn stepped back from the long couch that she reclined on. She sat up as she took in the solemn faces. All four of them, and they had been scatered about MountGard, the national capitol, if not the countryside. She thought as her body went chill and her heart seized with dread.

"Rob Ryan..." She whispered her eight year old son's name, but then her heart made a heavy thump as they shook their heads quickly, hoping to reasure her. Robert Ryan Hexx was safe, he'd was attending a carefully planned week long educational expedition, with his tutors and security personel.

"TMI intercepted a communication in Imitora." Kazuma said. Imitora may have been a regional neighbor and ally to Tanaara, but TMI's - Tanaaran Military Intellegence- notoriously efffecient "supply clerks" kept a close eye on them.

"Mercy, Robert Fortiers dead." Sinjin's voice was controlled but concerned. He knew how much Robert meant to her.
Imitora
16-10-2006, 02:51
Templeton, Imitora

Hoot took a long pull from a dark bottle, the heavy beer refreshing him, calming his nerves. His hands slid gracefully over a keyboard as he typed up a eulogy, he would be speaking at the funeral. He had already sent a letter to Mercy, using some rahter special diplomatic channels to make sure she got the letter, hand written of course and not a simple email, within a few hours. He had hit a road block, stuck at how to finish the eulogy, and was hoping that the beer would give him a hint on how to finish.

The ring of his small house's door bell snapped his attention away from the computer, and he moved out to his front door, unlatching it, and pulling it open.

Christin stood in the door way, her face sullen and down, but filled with a small sympathetic smile. She looked up at Hoot, who returned the same, sympathetic smile, and tears starting streaming down her face as she lost control, sobbing as Hoot pulled her into a hug. He hushed her softly, gently stroking her hair. He led her into the house, closing the door behind him, leading her into the kitchen.

He opened the fridge, pulling out a bottle of tequilla and limeade mix, pouring the two liquids into a glass over ice, and handing it to Christin. She took the drink, and followed that with a long swig, washing back her tears. She quickly got her sobs under control, and hung her had in her hands.

"How you doing?" she asked, sniffling, realizing that it must have been just as hard on Hoot as it had been on her. It wasn't right for her to just dump on him like this.

Hoot was handling it fairly well, as well as one could. He had delt with death first hand for a good portion of his life, and he was holding in just as he had in the past. "I've been better," he responded, taking another swig from the beer. "I know this must be hard for you."

She nodded, sniffling again, another stray tear moving down her cheek. "Theres something I always wanted to tell him, too. I'll never get the chance now. I should have done it when I had the chance."

"Christin, don't worry about that, I know he knew how you felt."

"It wasn't just that," she added, taking another drink from the mix. The ice clanked in the glass as she placed it on the table. "There was something else I wanted to tell him."

"What was that," Hoot asked, looking up.

"Remember how, first time you met Ryan, you said he got everything from me, how you thought I must have some major resescive geenes in the family? Well, there is a reason he didn't look anything like Pete."

For the second time in one day, Hoot dropped something in suprise. His beer bottle shattered against the tile floor.
_

MountGard, Tanaara

The letter had arrived, just as Hoot as wanted, in a few short hours. It was hand written, he had typed it up to make sure it flowed well, and checked for errors. Elsewise, it was all impromptu, black ink on plain white paper. No fancy headers or footers, nor any special stationary.

Mercy,

I only wish I could be writting in happier times, but this situation, as any, warrents not an impersonal message, but something from the heart. I just recieved word, in the usual form of delivery from the IMC, that early this morning, Robert was killed in action on an ICIA operation. I'm not sure what the situation was, or what happened, as I no longer am privy to such information from high up. All I know is that his body will return home sometime later this evening, and that he will be granted a full state funeral, befitting of his rank and service.

I know that you and Robert had little communication after the break up, but I know he still cared for you, and loved you, even if you weren't together. I know how hard this must be for you, the blow that it must render against you. But you can know, and you have my word on this, that he died with honor, and if I know Robert, he didn't go without a fight.

As hard as it may be, it would mean a great deal to me, and to our small group, if you could be here for the funeral. I wouldn't ask if I didn't know that it would also mean so much for Robert, where ever he may be looking down from, for I know that despite his actions in our world, he is in a much better place than this world may offer. I hope to hear from you, and again, wish it could only be under better cirumstances. Call me if you need anything, please.

Hoot
Tanaara
16-10-2006, 03:38
Mercy,
I only wish I could be writting in happier times, but this situation, as any, warrents not an impersonal message, but something from the heart. I just recieved word, in the usual form of delivery from the IMC, that early this morning, Robert was killed in action on an ICIA operation. I'm not sure what the situation was, or what happened, as I no longer am privy to such information from high up. All I know is that his body will return home sometime later this evening, and that he will be granted a full state funeral, befitting of his rank and service.


She had cried for hours, while Robyn, Kazuma, Sinjin, and Khadri issued orders to shunt aside every thing that made up the incredibly over full life of a hands on monarch. The massive Antonov that was Mercy's private transport was ordered ready, as was everything necessary for her quiet arrival in Imitora. They knew that while some might consider it to be a state affair, Mercy would in no way see it that way. What had been between her and Robert Fortier was intensely private. And had never been disclosed publicly.

There would be an official delegation of course, with all the proper ruffles and flourishes owed to a man that that had helped save Tanaara in some of her darkest hours, but that would be taken care of by the Tanaaran State Department.

Once the initial press of concerns had been handled, Sinjin and Khadri flew to where Robert Ryan was just finishing his dinner in a wilderness camp in the depths of one of Tanaara's remotest wilderness preserves.

Dear Hoot,
I knew this day would come, I though I'd steeled myself for it, but oh how it hurts my heart. I'll be there as soon as I can, though I doubt it could be before tomorrow night. I'm coming in privately. If you need anything, call me.
Love,
Mercy

The tear splotches didn't smear the ink on this one she noted with bleak satisfaction..

and the angels cried Alan Jackson played softly in the background and she nearly threw something through one of the wide bay windows that overlooked her private gardens. Then she stood, her bright hair hanging limply about her face, and with a careful voice told the computer to play a CD compliation she'd requested very infrequently over the last few years.

Kazuma took the missive, on it's simple but heavy stationary, and headed out to hand it over to the pilot of the Medusa supersonic fighter that was waiting in a revetment at the nearest Tanaaran military base.

At about the time Robert Ryan was arriving in his mother's chambers, the Medusa was touching down. Soon after the doorbell of a small house in Templeton, Imitora rang.
HotRodia
16-10-2006, 18:32
MoH Home Office
004 El Dorado Drive
HotRodia City, HotRodia


Sam put down the phone gently, his hands steady, but his spirit a bit lower than it had been previously. Barrister Burns, the HotRodian Ambassador in Imitora, had just informed him that Robert Fortier was dead. It was almost unreal. Fortier had been around just as long as he had, perhaps longer, and it was hard to imagine someone who had been such a consistent and powerful presence in the world was gone. Sam knew he would want to be in Imitora for the memorial services, and fired off a quick message to Jim, who would arrange the details. But for now, Sam just sat in his comfortable chair and considered his own mortality.
Imitora
16-10-2006, 19:29
OOC: Welcome aboard HotRodia. Go ahead and RP your arrival into Northampton, I'll get a reply pot up for ya shortly.

Templeton, Imitora

Christin had cried herself out for the day, and Hoot and let her pass out on his couch. He could use the company, anyways. He continued working on the funeral oration, making phone calls to tell friends and family what the situation was, and still popped off emails every few hours to try and get the attention of the new President, finding out exactly what happened. Of course, as was the standard buerocratic procedure, that was prooving harder than anything.

The beer was gone, it wasn't doing the job, and a small glass of gin, with a hint of lime juice over ice now kept him going. He had made, to this point, thirty two phone calls, sent fifteen emails, and wrote five letters. He was winding down, preparing to take a small break, when the door bell rang again.

Hoot stood, moving past the passed out fighter pilot on the couch, noting that the door bell hadn't woken her. He thought that appropriate, she needed some sleep, and with Pete on combat call somewhere in the Imitoran Sea, it was better for her to be asleep with others around. He moved out to the front door, still unlocked, and opened it.
Tarlachia
16-10-2006, 19:52
...When every wound has been re-opened
And in this world of give and take, you must have faith
And the distance to your dreams stretch beyond reach
Don't lay down and die...

"Lance! Hey Lance!" cried Jimmy, a young twenty-one year old kid whose knowledge of cars and their workings was beyond most guys his age, came closer to Lance to shove a piece of paper in front of the man's face. "You oughta take a look at this man." He pulled a remote from his pocket and aimed it toward the stereo, pausing Alter Bridge's 'One Day Remains' in mid-track.

Growling momentarily to himself as sweat beads coursed down his face and dripped onto the paper, Lance drew back a bit and began to read. Suddenly, he dropped the pliers from his hand, the sound of the tool clanking and falling into the engine bay. The wires being worked on, specifically wiring that was for the revamped sound system, were released, hanging in place.

Grabbing the paper with a greasy hand, he read the words again. He inspected the seal, inspected the paper's quality, even closely inspected the signature that belonged to his longtime friend, Hoot.

Turning around, he planted a seat upon the bumper of the car, just dropping the paper to the floor and looking out the open garage doors of his shop. "Damn man," he said to himself, "Thought you'd go out in a blaze of glory on the road, not in fuckin' combat."

Jimmy, who had remained quiet for the time, finally spoke up, "Close down the shop?"

Lance shook his head positively, "Yeah. Finish the work on this car here, and get it back to Mr. Browning. I've gotta get to Imitora."

As Lance walked toward the office, he called over his shoulder, "Oh, and one other thing. Get my Camaro tuned up and ready to go in an hour."

Disappearing into the office, Lance entered the bathroom which held a shower inside. An hour later, he turned the ignition, listened to the Camaro's modified powerful engine, and was soon down the road, gone from sight.
Tanaara
16-10-2006, 20:17
A man with an eminently forgetable face, in equally eminently forgetable attire stood on the door step and gave the ex oresident of Imitora a half bow.

"Mister Gibson, I was tasked to deliver this personally to you, and to make sure that if there was anything she could do to help, anything at all, to please not hesitate to ask." As he held out the envelope of heavy laid bond, a titanium ring with a crest gleamed on his forefinger, three stones, two of yellow and one of blue embedded within the crest. Hoot knew how that ring had been earned, and what the Life Gems symbolized.

"Sir, I was fortuante to work with Captain Fortier and his team when they were in Tanaara, and might I say on behalf of all of us, we mourn his loss, and his name will be added to the Memory." The Tanaaran operative added in a quiet respectful voice. Robert Fortier and others of an Imitoran special ops squad had been highly instrumental in averting a coup that would have rent Tanaara with ugly civil warfare. He had not only worked with Queen Mercedez, then a senior supply clerk in TMI's most secret division, to try and avert it, but when the bullets had flown had been there to stop the core plan from succeeding.

***********************************

"Mother?" Whats wrong?" Robert Ryan Hexx had never, in all his eight years seen his mother looking so sad, so desperate. His normally sunny face clouded and he all but ran to her.

"Oh Rob" She wrapped him in a hug, pulling him into her lap, something she seldom did these days - something he seldom let her do these days, but something was too wrong, something had his mother crying, and he didn't protest. His mom never cried, his mom was the strongest person he knew and to see her like this frightened him more than a little.

Eventually the fresh storm of weeping passed and she gave him one last fierce hug and let him slide off her lap to sit beside her on the couch while she blew her nose and dried her eyes.

"You have your fathers eyes" Mercy faltered, looking for a moment as if she were about to begin crying again....

She bit her lower lip hard and began to tell her son about the father he'd never met and now never would. It took hours and together they laughed and cried, and when he got understandably angry at her and at life, she held him close and bore his anger and tried to come to grips with her own.
HotRodia
17-10-2006, 01:09
Private Aircraft
Northampton International Airport
Northampton, Imitora


Sam had enjoyed the flight to Imitora, as he did all of his much too infrequent travels outside of HotRodia. The smooth ride, the luxury, and above all the amazing safety were like a comforting blanket on a cold night. It had been much too long since Sam had experienced that, and far too long since he had a comforting woman on a cold night. He tried to forget that.

As the plane came to a stop, he unstrapped himself and rose from the seat, heading towards the rear of the plane. He needed to change from his casual clothing into more appropriate garb. The pilot, his bodyguard and good friend from the HotRodian special forces unit would take care of getting the car ready. The Moderator would be ready to roll in a few minutes, so Sam made his change of attire quick, and made sure to get the right shoes and gloves for driving. He grinned. This was why he loved Imitora. A people after his own heart, they were.
Imitora
17-10-2006, 17:41
Northampton, Imitora

Sam's arrival, like the arrival of most foriegn dignataries in Imitora, was low key, a single black BMW X5 SUV waited at the private aviation terminal. As Sam started to roll off, the driver of the BMW flashed the highbeams, gaining his attention. A man dressed simply, a black suit, black tie, and Glock on his hip stepped out of the passenger's side of the X5, walking over to the car. He ducked down to the level of the car, and nodded at Sam.

"Sir," he said, pulling a piece of paper out of his pocket, "here's the info you'll need. Location and time of the funeral, the wake will be afterwards, at Former President Gibbson's house. Our State Department made the assumption that you would be staying at your own embassy, but we can make arrangements for you at any of the hotels in Northampton."

He handed Sam the piece of paper, as well as a buisness card. "That's my contact info, I'm Agent Jason Reiger, State Department, Diplomatic Protection agency. If you need anything, my cell and office number is on that card. Feel free to call me."
_
Tempelton, Imitora

Mister Gibson, I was tasked to deliver this personally to you, and to make sure that if there was anything she could do to help, anything at all, to please not hesitate to ask. Sir, I was fortuante to work with Captain Fortier and his team when they were in Tanaara, and might I say on behalf of all of us, we mourn his loss, and his name will be added to the Memory.

Hoot nodded. He hadn't been on the assualt, but he rembered Fortier going through him to put together a team from the ICIA and some former TRACT operators. Hoot took the envalope, holding it down in his hand and thanked the couriour. "I think we have everything under control here. We're just trying to set up places for people comming in to say."
HotRodia
17-10-2006, 18:19
Private Aircraft
Northampton International Airport
Northampton, Imitora


The Moderator GT-S (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=7504690&postcount=21) gleamed in the light as the agent approached, and Sam watched his movements carefully. The man passed the necessary information through the window and introduced himself as an agent of the Diplomatic Protection Agency. Sam nodded politely and thanked the man, appreciating his efficiency, and considering the implications. An entire agency devoted to protecting diplomats? Fascinating. After a few seconds, he shrugged and called Gil, asking him to finish arranging for the storage of their plane and get to the car so they could get to the embassy in a reasonable time frame. Though upon reflection, being late could be a great opportunity to honor Robert Fortier's memory with a little fast driving...

Once Gil strapped himself securely into the seat, Sam accelerated the vehicle gently, gradually pulling up to a reasonable speed. Once they had found their way out of the vicinity of the airport and onto a highway, Sam pushed the accelerator into the floor panel, and grinned as the tires spinned audibly. Gil turned towards him and raised an eyebrow, then just shrugged and smiled. They arrived at the embassy early despite their late departure. Barrister Burns met them at the embassy, and ushered them into his office so they could work out the details of the lodgings.
Tanara
21-10-2006, 03:03
"I think we have everything under control here. We're just trying to set up places for people comming in to say."

The nondescript man nodded,and handed Hoot a card with a phone number inscribed on it. "Just in case sir. I don't knew the arrangements yet for the unofficial party, but they are in competent hands. The official representatives will, of course, be the Ambssador, her husband and a delegation." He gave the ex president of Imitora a brief salute and faded into the night.

**************************************


Charli drove, slowly for her, but it was just a standard tuned rental, a BMW 7 series in Monaco blue and a camel leather interior. She wandered the places she knew, from having raced in Imitora in the past, that the high end street racers gathered. Some remembered her, others didn't, but she didn't spend much time visiting. She was too restless, pain spiking as she listened to the racers speak about Fortier as if he were still alive.

The phone book gave her Hoot Gibson's current address, sonmething she found a little odd. She didn't think any ex-president of the U.S. had a listed address, but all she could do is shrug. Imitora was so diffferent in many ways from the U.S. She didn't think that an foriegn civilian would be debriefed in the way she had, but then again she had a incredibly low opinion of all governments, not unreasonable given her background. And who am I to know, I've never been debriefed by any government agency, except the Forestry Service after a fire is out. And that was just hours on the fire line for payroll. She shook her head and proceeded to roll from Northampton to a small town not that distant, Tempelton.

It didn't take her long to find the address she jotted down earlier. She parked out front and sat for a moment, letting the hurt subside. Few people realized how few friends Charli had, and to lose any of them hurt her more than she would admit. Then taking a deep breath she stepped out of the car and walked slowly up to the front door, and rang the door bell.

When the older man, who still looked much as she remembered him from not all that many years ago, opened the door, she gave him as much of a smile as she could, though it wan't much.

"Mr. Gibson, I don't know if you remember me. I'm Charli Firewalker."
Imitora
25-10-2006, 02:39
After the nondescript man had left Hoot with the card, he tossed the envalope on a side table, and went back to work. Most of the men that had served with him and Fortier were still operational, and couldn't be reached. Hell, most of them were still working with cover names and stories in nations that would possibly be none to happy to find a spy or operative amongst their government.

Christin had left earlier, by about an hour after her nap. She had been passed out on the couch for over three hours, just sleeping off the stress of the day. Her Mustang had vacated the driveway in front of Hoot's house just a few hours before the 7 pulled up, its bulk still gracefull for a luxery sedan. The door bell rang, grabbing Hoot out of a nap, snapping into a sitting position. He stretched out, and walked over to the door, pulling it open.

Mr. Gibson, I don't know if you remember me. I'm Charli Firewalker.

He didn't remeber Charli all that well, but the face was definately familar, and the name did register. He looked her over, and stood aside. "Yeah, c'mon in."
Tanara
25-10-2006, 02:55
"Yeah, c'mon in."

"Thank you Mr. Gibson." Charli waited until the door had closed securely behind her, then did something that wasn't usual for her at all. Moving carefully, as she didn't wish to startle him, Charli leaned over to give him an 'air kiss' on his cheek, and as she did so whispered. "I brought Fortier's body back"

Charlie wasn't why she was feeling to paranoid about letting Hoot know, but the faceless men who'd debriefed her had left her feeling very unsettled. And she figured she could trust the ex presidents reaction to tell her wether or not she needed to be so covert.
Imitora
25-10-2006, 06:40
Templeton, Imitora

Thank you Mr. Gibson.

He stood aside, and closed the door. "Just call me Hoot, can I get ya something to drink?"

He wasn't expecting the 'air kiss', but didn't pull back or jump away. I brought Fortier's body back.

He looked down at her with a bit of confusion, wondering what exactly she meant. "I was told he was killed on an ICIA op, they normally work in pairs or full teams?" He had always known deep down that when Fortier passed, it wouldn't be under the normal circumstances that would take the average person. But to be on an ICIA op, and have a non Imitoran, let alone a non ICIA operative.

"They don't tell me anything anymore, I guess ex presidents are just everyone else nowadays. If you brought his body back, I'm gonna go ahead and assume that you got debriefed or something. What can ya tell me?"
Tarlachia
25-10-2006, 19:06
It had been an hour or so since Lance had crossed the Imitoran border, his vehicle naturally searched for contraband and illegal items. A few tense words had been exchanged, but in the end, they had let him continue onward. Lance suspected they didn't know how big a fish they were letting through their nets. As he drove, he relished the moment, and shook his head appreciatively. "This one's for you, Fortier." he said at last just as the tremendous roar of the engine drowned out all noise, even thoughts.

The Camaro ripped through the countryside streets, guided by memory and by GPS satellite when memory seemed flaky. Before long, the muscle car rumbled down the street that was his old time friend's neighborhood. He raised an eyebrow at the upscale buildings, but said nothing as he rolled up into the driveway and parked. Noting another vehicle next to his, he wondered who else had been invited to come.

Walking up the walkway to the front door, and adjusting his jacket as he did so, he then pushed the doorbell and stood a step back, turning to observe the neighborhood.
Tanara
28-10-2006, 22:03
What can ya tell me?"

"I got told that everything and nothing existed. But you deserve to know Hoot. Just some water if you please." Once he'd gotten her sat down in the homey kitchen she took a small sip from the glass he'd brought her, and sighed.

"Fortier apparently did a lot of odd things didn't he?" It was a questiont hat needed no answer. "He went odd places and did odd things with even odder people... I'm one of those odder people I guess..." Slowly but gathering steam she let the memories of less than seventy two hours pour from her - with a richness of detail and impressions that she had foregone in the officiall debriefing.

"When I saw Fortier sitting there I wondered who'se pink slip he'd come gunning for this time." Charli half laughed as she spoke of taking a turn around Cains and seeing him in a booth. The friendly conversation, heading down to spend a companionable hour of range time. Meeting Sian and company, the drunken brawl in the mens dressing room that left her with cracked and broken ribs as she stepped in to end it.

"I'm a half way decent bouncer but these guys outweighted me by a ton and were'nt feeling any pain." Charli shrugged, and her throat tightened as she began talking about the beginnings of the Iconoclast attack that would cost her friend his life. Slowly she gave Hoot the details as she had witnessed them...The panicked club goers fleeing for their lives, the rockets from the Iconoclast helicopter, the tiny handfull of defenders with save to protect the fleeing innocents, and each other.

Her ribs hurt, and she felt exhausted as she finished. She was still internally exhausted and while she had managed to sleep on the flight to Imitora, she was now almost toowrung out to stand up. With stiff movements she removed the spike that had slain Fortier from her purse. She hadn't shown it to those who'd debriefed her.

"This is what killed him."
Imitora
28-10-2006, 22:27
Hoot listened intently, processing that what he could and couldn't. Sure, he knew that certian beings beyond the comprension of most. He had seen them in Iansisle and other places, beings that could move with speed that no human could match, and simply crush others who seemed of little strength. He thought that they were done with them.

He took the spike, looking over the metal object, sizing it up. With an attitude that was almost out of place, he nodded. "Yeah," he tossed the spike up, then caught it. "That will definately put a hurt in your world." He pocketed the spike, and looked down at Charli. He looked her over, and rubbed his face.

"You look outa it. Bad. You have a place to stay here? I mean, I don't have a problem with you crashing here or anything, if you need to."

Seconds later, the door bell rang, and Hoot would let it remain unanswered for the moment. He wanted to make sure Charli was ok first.
Tanara
01-11-2006, 03:20
"You look outa it. Bad. You have a place to stay here? I mean, I don't have a problem with you crashing here or anything, if you need to."

"I don't want to be a bother Hoot. I thought I saw a hotel back down the road a bit. I just need to grab a bite and get some sleep." Charli stood and stretched, then tried to rub the blurr from her eyes. She found that it didn't help, and blushed.

"Erm, Hoot may I take you up on that offer of crash space. My eyes aren't refocusing. I sleep on floors with no trouble."
Imitora
01-11-2006, 03:40
Erm, Hoot may I take you up on that offer of crash space. My eyes aren't refocusing. I sleep on floors with no trouble.

"Yeah," Hoot replied, walking over to the couch. He pulled of the cushions, and pulled it out to a sleeper sofa. The bed wasn't exactly comfortable, but it was better than a floor. He pulled some sheets and pillows out of a closet, and tossed them on bed. "Ain't gonna sleep on the floor here. And the kitchen is all yours. Not stocked great, but its got some good stuff, well, good for me."
Tanara
01-11-2006, 04:07
"Ain't gonna sleep on the floor here. And the kitchen is all yours. Not stocked great, but its got some good stuff, well, good for me."

"Thanks Hoot. I'll cook when I wake up, how 'bout. I'm a half decent cook, or so I'm told. Repay you for your kindness with the crash space."

Making up the hideaway bed quickly, Charli toed her shoes off under the coffee table so they'd be out of the way and laid her shoulder bag on top of them. She yawned broadly and slid into the sofa bed, pulling the top sheet up around her.

"This is..." She managed to get out, but she was half asleep almost instantly then, out of it before she could finish the sentence.
Tarlachia
01-11-2006, 19:22
By the time Charli had crashed and burned her way into the subconscious state of dreaming, the doorbell had rung once more. Outside, Lance frowned slightly for a moment. He had heard voices inside, although he couldn't make out the conversation clearly enough.

Turning to watch as a truck rumbled down the street, Lance raked his fingers through his wavy hair. Over the last month or so, he hadn't been keeping it cut, simply ignoring the hair as it overtook his more well-known shaved head. Grown out, his hair was a dark brown, pushed simply backwards, no style desired.

Once more, he turned to look back at the front door, shaking his head slightly as he muttered to himself, "Jeez Hoot...whatcha do? Fall and can't get up?"
Imitora
01-11-2006, 20:18
Hoot had almost forgotten about the door, the second ring snapped him out of his near trance, and he moved to the front hallway. He looked at the spike once more, replacing it, and opened the door.

He looked right at Lance following a truck in sight, and smiled slightly. "Jesus Christ man. You look like a fucking hippy, cut your hair."

He stepped aside, letting Lance step into the room.
Tarlachia
01-11-2006, 20:48
"Oh fuck off, Mr. Ex-President." Lance muttered, before he smiled and entered the home. Setting his bag down near the door, Lance turned to Hoot as the front door was closed.

"Anything new on the streets these days? God knows there's still plenty of runts thinking they can match up to you, bringing their piss-ass'd pieces of shit against ya."
Imitora
03-11-2006, 07:40
Anything new on the streets these days? God knows there's still plenty of runts thinking they can match up to you, bringing their piss-ass'd pieces of shit against ya.

"Meh, a coupla fast cars out there, I haven't been out in a while. C'mon, let me get you a drink," Hoot said, motioning to the kitchen. He moved quietly through the living room, not wanting to wake Charli, and into the kitchen, cracking open the fridge. "What do ya want?"
Tanara
11-11-2006, 23:03
Charli never stirred as the two men chatted, she was too deeply in need of the sleep. However it may have been deep, but it was not dreamless. The fight in Cains that lead to Fortiers death played out over and over, causeing her to silently twist and turn in her sleep, but never quite awake.
Tanaara
11-11-2006, 23:42
Dawn was creeping through the wide windows of Montgard Palace before Mercy and Rob Ryan fell asleep. Rob Ryan's was that of the child he was bonelessly limp, deep and innocent. Mercy's was more restless as her dreams took her back over the time she had with the man she loved and always would. Robert Fortier had been her first adult love, her first lover, and she had never found another like him.

Not that she had ever spent much time trying, though she had not spent her days languishing helplessly for him. It was not in her nature to pine away anyway. She was content to cherish the time they had had together, holding their love warm in her heart.

Hours later she awoke still on the sofa with Rob Ryan's head in her lap, and she noted that it was well into late afternoon. Sharon, her personal maid, came in quietly with a tray of coffee and a light repast. She looked inquireingtly at Mercy, flicking her eyes to Rob Ryan.

"No let him sleep" Mercy whispered as she took the cup of coffee that Sharon brought her.

"Your plan is scheduled for take off in three hours." Sharon replied softly as she set a plate with a croissant and jam on the end table.

"I'm awake mother" Rob Ryan sat up and nuckled his eyes...

Three hours later, in the late evening the massive transport was wheels up and flying south to Northampton Imitora.
Tarlachia
14-11-2006, 03:00
"Anything's fine." Lance replied as he drew out a chair nearby and sat in it. He looked around the kitchen at the various items that were sitting on the counters or on the walls, all distinctly indicating that it was a guy's home.

"Just a bit of a surprise ya know?" he stated as he was lost in thought, "Rob being gone and all." He turned his attention back to Hoot. "Must be especially hard for you...you two were like brothers."
Imitora
15-11-2006, 01:10
Just a bit of a surprise ya know? Rob being gone and all. Must be especially hard for you. You two were like brothers.

"Yeah, kinda. I mean, we all knew he would go eventually, just didn't think he'd go out like he did. I was thinking it would be ended pulling off the Fortier Special, like bungie jumpining off a bridge with a too long rope while carrying live artillery rounds and road flares in his mouth just for the fun of it."

He poured two glasses of whiskey, one of the better quality local brands, then added some soda. A couple shots of lime juice in each, and he pushed one over to Lance.

"They taught us how to deal with this in training. I mean, in our line of work, it was expected. People die in combat, you just never start thinking it would be one of your own friends."

He took a swig from the hard mix, the sweet soda mixing with the sour wiskey and lime. He swished the drink around in his hand, hoping they wouldnt wake up Charli. "His body came in today, so the funeral is tommorow. Gonna be the standard state affair, twenty one gun salute, folding flag, fly over. Stuff like that."
_

The time change in flight sent the Anatov back, so while it was late evening when it left Tanaara, it crossed into Imitoran air space at dusk, the night sun kissing the horrizon out over the sea. As the massive Russian bird slid into the radar range, a voice crackled over the speaker, listing instructions for the transport.

"Tanaara heavy, this is Imitora tower, we have you on our sights. We got you a clear lane for the flight, just go ahead and set her down at Northampton International, runway 22L. We have your usual hanger open in the private air sector. I'm turning you over to your BGs. Sky is clear, call in if you need any instructions. Wind is east at five knots, shouldn't make anything to different. Tower out."

A few moments later, two fast moving blips appeared on the Anatov's radar. The two blips represented Imitoran made F/A-18I Yellow Jackets, super fighters based on the F/A-18 frame, but heavily modified for use by the Imitoran military. They were lightly armed, air to air missiles slung under the wings, the hip and waste points left empty. As the swooped in up and under the Anatov, the slowed to match the transport's speed, one settling to the front left of the nose, the other behind and below the right wing.

The voice came from the pilot of the for most fighter, dipping the wing to show they had no hostile intent. "This is Lcdr. Cole Trickle, with Lt. Ryan Mitchell, we're gonna be your overwatch comming in."

Trickle would have added some sort of intsruction to the pilot of the Anatov, but he was sure that the bus driver had a pretty good grasp on putting the big boy down.
Tarlachia
15-11-2006, 23:11
Taking the whiskey mix and swallowing some of it tastefully, Lance nodded his approval after a few moments. Listening as Hoot informed him of the status of the funeral procedures, he took another drink before asking, "Anything you need me to do to help out, or is it all settled and only a matter of time now?"

Glancing into the living room where Charli slept, he found her to be still asleep. He was sure she was taking it roughly. Both she and Fortier had been close. He directed his attention back to Hoot, awaiting his response.
Imitora
21-11-2006, 16:20
Anything you need me to do to help out, or is it all settled and only a matter of time now?

"Not really, I've been working on it for the past few days. The funeral is tommorow at thirteen hundred." Hoot caught himself, once one went into military mode, it was hard to pull out. "I mean one in the afternoon. Its in downtown Northampton, St. Micheal's Church of the Archangel. Gonne be kinda crowded, so we gotta show up early. I've already arranged a ride for us."

He twirlled the mix in his glass, and took another swig. "I think I'm gonna hit the sack, got a long day tommorow." He pulled out his wallet, took out a card, and handed it to Lance. "Just flash this at any hotel around here, you'll get the Presidential treatment. Just be back here tommorow around eleven, we'll leave from here."
_

The body was rolled into the mourge at Northampton General, the two doctors having stayed late in order to be ready for the autopsy. One of them had commented about the pointlessness of having it done here, when the Imitoran who died overseas could have just had his autopsy done there. They had sighed at the buerocracy in action, and went back to their wait.

Moments after the body had rolled in, while the doctors were preparing for the procedure, the door to the mourge swung open again, and three men in suits stepped into the room. "Fucking Christ," one swore under his breath, looking down at the body. It had to be him, didn't it?"

"What?" another one asked, looking down at the body as well.

"This guy was probably our best field operator. He could do shit that entire units of ICI ops couldn't pull off." He sighed, and noticed the two doctors staring at him. "What?"

"This is a secure operating lab, you can't be in here."

"There isn't going to be an autopsy. You guys can roll out."

"Uh, I think not."

"Yes, you are." The agents voice was low and harsh.

The younger doctor in the room grabbed his scalpel, holding it like a knife up to another agent, attempting to scare the suits away. The agent, in return, reached out with a lightning fast arm, snapping it around and behind the young doctor. He applied pressure to the wrist, the scalpel dropping to the ground with a clank. A 10mm Beretta came out of a holster, and was against the young doctor's head. The lead agent spoke again. "You have till nine tommorow morning to get him prepped and dressed in his dress blues, and we'll come and pick him up. If he isn't ready by then, we'll kill you. Capiché?"

The doctor's both nodded, and the younger docotor was released. One agent left a suit bag with the dress blues, and the three left the room.