NationStates Jolt Archive

Chellis would like to announce that there will be a proverbial Military Carwash in the chellian territory of Torres(A seperate island from chellis, about the size of australia). We are trying to raise money for the rebuilding of Nigeria, and ask nations to bring things to come get washed. We will be running the wash for an indefidant time, and the prices are as below. Also, all Aircraft and ground vehicles are expected to be unarmed, except for the crews who we are ok with being armed with weapons for personal defense, if wanted.

Warships: 10$ per Ton of water displaced.
Aircraft: $8,000 for anything smaller than an F-14, Variable prices for things bigger(We do not wash B-2's, as there is a chance of damaging them).
Ground Vehicles: 100$ per ton.

Please, do it for war torn Nigeria. 10% discount on orders of over $2m dollars. This is also an oppertunity to see varied equipment from other nations, or simply to have your tankers watch as women in bikini's scrub down their APC's.

OOC: This RP could be anything from a love affair, a mission to spy on other peoples militaries, a discussion place for two militaries, or whatever. I just ask that no actual fighting occurs here, nor terrorist actions. Lets have some fun people, not everything is annexation and invasion!

We would like 5 of our C-1 aircraft washed. Each has a wingspan of 100 ft, are 95 feet long and are 32 ft high.

Can you wash a spacecraft?

If so here: The Shadow's Grace

Length: 1.1 km
Width: 350 meters
Height: 110 meters
Weight: approx. 250 kilotons (550000000 lbs.)

we need a 500 Ton Displacement JackKnife class Corvette washed.

Secret IC: Little did Chellis know that several Spies, Terrorists, alleged Criminals and UKN Spec Ops where collabarating to gather information on several other country's military forces.

a couple of tank groups need a good scubbing after doing some exercises in the mud. We'll need 50 vehicles washed. at $100 per ton that woud be: $350,000.and because it's for a good cause i'll throw in a $50,000 tip.
they'll be there tomorrow with the $400,000.

We have no vehicles in dire need of being washed, but we ask if we could provide security for this event, seeing as some nations might see this as an opportunity for espionage. We will provide 10 sentries per object (ship, humvee, tank, etc.) as a small security detail if allowed to do so.

Chellis would prefer to provide security, as it does have the (Self-claimed) best military in the world.

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Japanese Antarctican Planes will be washed at the convention centre. The cost will be $100,000 for the 5 aircraft, and we would like to offer a free over-night stay in Torres to the crews.

---

OOC:Blarg, no, I dont. I dont rp with space nations, sorry.

---

IC: Chellis would ask that the UKN ship crew to leave the ship and stay at the free resort until we are finished washing it. The price will be $5,000 CE(Chellian Euros), and done by other ships, not people(as people doing it would take a long time...).

---

Chellis thanks Al-Imvadjah for contributing its vehicles to be washed. We offer you a stay at the resort while we wash your vehicles. The ground vehicle washing centre is right next to the resort, if your men wish to watch the women wash the vehicles.

Will You Wash The ECF Federation Pride?
After that priate attack we havnt been able to get all that blood off it.
It weighs 67,000 Tonns.
And has 9 16' Guns Which Will Require cleaning as during the Attack a Pirate got throw down one.
Misslies Lunchers could use a good scumbing.

Will You Wash The ECF Federation Pride?
After that priate attack we havnt been able to get all that blood off it.
It weighs 67,000 Tonns.
And has 9 16' Guns Which Will Require cleaning as during the Attack a Pirate got throw down one.
Misslies Lunchers could use a good scumbing.

Standard cleaning is the Hull and deck, which will cost $67,000. If you wish for the guns and missile launchers to be cleaned, the price raises to $100,000. We would like to invite your crew to the resort overnight, for free, as well.

Communique to Chellis

If you wouldn't mind, we'd like for you to wash a number of shuttles for us, as they get dirty very easily. Her Honor, Master Void General Dëlain Goldfire would like to lead the shuttles in herself, as she feels she could use a quick vacation. And...oh...she's already left. She's, erm...still young, and a bit excitable, you see. In any case, as the kind nation we try to be, we will pay 5 million for you to wash 14 of these shuttles (they are pretty small, being personal shuttles and all), and contribute another 2 million just 'cause we can.

((They're just skimmer shuttles, not deep space shuttles, and though I'm a space nation, I'm not bringing in 3km long missile ships or anything. I like this idea, it's original, and I'd like to participate.))

Will You Wash The ECF Federation Pride?
After that priate attack we havnt been able to get all that blood off it.
It weighs 67,000 Tonns.
And has 9 16' Guns Which Will Require cleaning as during the Attack a Pirate got throw down one.
Misslies Lunchers could use a good scumbing.

Standard cleaning is the Hull and deck, which will cost $67,000. If you wish for the guns and missile launchers to be cleaned, the price raises to $100,000. We would like to invite your crew to the resort overnight, for free, as well.
We will pay 120,000 so make em shine! :D

OOC: Dammit! This would have been great if it was a character RP! (Girls in bikinis, lotsa soldiers, fun)

((Hehe, I think it kinda is a character RP. Or at least I hope it is...))

A lone man sits outside the washing facilities, watching vehicles drive in and out. He is a nondescript man, wearing a tattered brown overcoat, a matching fedora, and sunglasses, and he has a thick, bushy beard. The hot sun beats down, but he cools himself off with a large beverage from a fast-food dispensary across the way. As each vehicle passes him by, he scribbles something into a stained brown notebook...

(It looks like a storefront to me)

IC: ROCAF Major Li rings up the wash facility to pre-order a wash for his Harrier.

I'll give you 1 billion if you put a few hundred lbs of C-4s on someone's warships.
(preferably below the waterline or near magazines)

on another note, the President's F-15E needs a scrub

Cyberutopia:Deal.(For a Character RP, I can be flexible.)
---
_Taiwan:(Yes, it is a character RP. Just with a political backdrop, aka the conflict in Nigeria.)
---
IDF:This is only a benefit for the people of Nigeria. We will not partake in sabotage. We would however like to wash your Presidents F-15E.
[code:1:85ffb90537]
To:IDF Government
From:CCCB

Did you have someone particular in mind?[/code:1:85ffb90537]

If Falastur sets up a dry dock, can you wash over ships? Sea water is beginning to take the worst on the hull of our Flagship, as well as many others....(but I would only give you one ship, cos its so big).

If this is a little extreme for you, we would like to send 5 Humvee's and the Presidential Jet to be washed.

We have 100 M1A2s that need to be cleaned. They will be arriving shortly. If the job is done good an larger order is to come.

If Falastur sets up a dry dock, can you wash over ships? Sea water is beginning to take the worst on the hull of our Flagship, as well as many others....(but I would only give you one ship, cos its so big).

If this is a little extreme for you, we would like to send 5 Humvee's and the Presidential Jet to be washed.

Chellis is willing to offer a full cleaning, aka the whole hull(so dry dock), the deck, and the whole outside basically for double price.

---

Chellis is fine with the Matich order, and eagerly await the armour. We invite the tank crews to lounge in the resort for the time being, while our washers clean the tanks.(70 tons tanks = Cash cows ^_^).

---

A bell-boy runs to the desk as an impatient Major Li stands there, the sun beating on his cap through the windows in the ceiling. The bell-boy has a small tag with the name "Alexi" and wears a peculiar Silver beret. "Im sorry, sir. I was pre-occupied with taking orders. How may I serve you?"

Very well. The IFS Persephone ("Commandant" Class Command Ship), along with a part of her Fleet which will remain out at sea at a distance of 10 miles, to ensure you see it as no threat, will arrive shortly at any port which you percieve to be best. It is also coming with a converted liner which has the equipment and personnel to set up a dry dock capable of holding our Flagship in a mere two days.

Money will be wired upon completion of the job.

We have one dock set up for the washing, and the coordinates have been sent to you.

Poop. Okay then, how about a squadron of my Wraith interceptor jets? They had some mud splashed on them.

I'm not all space, just partly.

The peoples republic requests that its naval shipsbe washed. By women in bikinis, roar..
The Prime Minister may even visit

OOC: but now im going to bed GNIGHT HAXORSS

Chop chop! Im goiong to battle soon so they must be washed quickly!

A brilliant glint in the sky appeared over Torres and rapidly decended towards the "carwash," though no cars were being washed there. As the glint drew closer and clearer, it dispersed into just over a dozen shuttles, the overbearing sun shining brightly off of the silvery surfaces where they weren't blackened, charred, or otherwise dirtied. The skimmer shuttles settled onto the ground with a collection of soft whines, and two shuttles opened their doors with a pneumatic hiss. The two pilots stepped out, and began walking towards the order desk. The more authoritive and attractive of the two was clothed in a decidedly tight tactical bodysuit, a single patch on her arm of a black diamond over a silver circle inlaid with gold leaf signifing her as the Master Void Admiral herself. Long, wavy hair of a deep red danced along her back as she walked with a happy bounce, and dark sapphire eyes reflected that happiness to whoever looked at her. Her skin was fair and her lips were an inviting, warm peach color. Most significant about her were her pointed ears and the unearthly grace she walked with. She squinted up at the bright sun and her faint smile became broader.

Her compatriot, and clearly her subordinate, was slightly shorter but still had a sleek, attractive body. She sported the same tacsuit as the Void Admiral, her shoulder-length mahogany hair complimenting it well. A patch on her shoulder denoted her rank of Commodore, but a heavy fighter pierced the rings of her badge, showing she was a member of the Cyberutopian Atmospheric-Exoatmospheric Defense Consortium. The CAEDC was a semi-autonomous mercenary group that worked mainly to help out with the safeguarding of Cyberutopia's assets in space and airspace, but always would jump at the opportunity to sell their services to others. The Commodore's skin was not as fair as the Void Admiral's, but it still appeared smooth and warm.

The two, after drawing many looks from the men around them, reached the order desk and the welcome cool air that accompanied it and calmly waited behind the man that was currently being helped by the bell-boy.

A brilliant glint in the sky appeared over Torres and rapidly decended towards the "carwash," though no cars were being washed there. As the glint drew closer and clearer, it dispersed into just over a dozen shuttles, the overbearing sun shining brightly off of the silvery surfaces where they weren't blackened, charred, or otherwise dirtied. The skimmer shuttles settled onto the ground with a collection of soft whines, and two shuttles opened their doors with a pneumatic hiss. The two pilots stepped out, and began walking towards the order desk. The more authoritive and attractive of the two was clothed in a decidedly tight tactical bodysuit, a single patch on her arm of a black diamond over a silver circle inlaid with gold leaf signifing her as the Master Void Admiral herself. Long, wavy hair of a deep red danced along her back as she walked with a happy bounce, and dark sapphire eyes reflected that happiness to whoever looked at her. Her skin was fair and her lips were an inviting, warm peach color. Most significant about her were her pointed ears and the unearthly grace she walked with. She squinted up at the bright sun and her faint smile became broader.

Her compatriot, and clearly her subordinate, was slightly shorter but still had a sleek, attractive body. She sported the same tacsuit as the Void Admiral, her shoulder-length mahogany hair complimenting it well. A patch on her shoulder denoted her rank of Commodore, but a heavy fighter pierced the rings of her badge, showing she was a member of the Cyberutopian Atmospheric-Exoatmospheric Defense Consortium. The CAEDC was a semi-autonomous mercenary group that worked mainly to help out with the safeguarding of Cyberutopia's assets in space and airspace, but always would jump at the opportunity to sell their services to others. The Commodore's skin was not as fair as the Void Admiral's, but it still appeared smooth and warm.

The two, after drawing many looks from the men around them, reached the order desk and the welcome cool air that accompanied it and calmly waited behind the man that was currently being helped by the bell-boy.

Alexi spotted the two, with fair dis-interest. "Jason, we have more. Help the next two in line, will ya?" He said, as a younger boy, only Seventeen or so, jogged out of the employee lounge and to the front desk. "Uhm... May I help the next... two in line?"He said, seeming rather rushed.

The Void Admiral glided over to the Jason boy, her smile still on her face.

"Yes, those shuttles out there are ours." She told him, jutting a thumb behind her casually. "The price has been agreed upon to total...7 million?" The woman behind her nodded as Dëlain cast her eyes behind her. "These are complex machines with very intricate systems, treat them with care. I can trust you with this, I hope?"

She slid a thin pad across the desk to him, the enticing scent of her perfume still lingering on it.

The Void Admiral glided over to the Jason boy, her smile still on her face.

"Yes, those shuttles out there are ours." She told him, jutting a thumb behind her casually. "The price has been agreed upon to total...7 million?" The woman behind her nodded as Dëlain cast her eyes behind her. "These are complex machines with very intricate systems, treat them with care. I can trust you with this, I hope?"

She slid a thin pad across the desk to him, the enticing scent of her perfume still lingering on it.

The man with the notepad watched as the woman--apparently a high-ranking officer of some kind--made payment to the teenage boy at the counter. He chuckled. She was obviously toying with him, using her blatant sexuality to garner--a discount, perhaps? Or maybe she was a spy? Hey, if she is, maybe we'll end up hooking up, he thought. The man wondered why spacefaring women always wore such tight outfits, and decided he really didn't care so long as they continued to wear them.

He got up and headed indoors. Walking quietly past alternately bored-looking and rushed, harried employees, the man entered a washroom and removed his outer clothing. He was wearing a communications technician's uniform underneath. Stuffing the well-worn outer garments into a waste bin and hiding them under paper towels, he left the washroom and entered a door marked "Employees Only."

The Light Corvette pulled into the Drydock. the skelaton Crew that had manned it here disembarked, but not before the Captain Shouted "Everyone off!". as he shouted, 24 Men jumped out of a Small Hatch in the bottom ment for maintenence. they then continued to spy on the Incomeing Commandent Class. they of course knew it was a Commandent class, as it was Included in there training books.

You know what Chellis? After seeing those two women on satellite surveillance, I believe I would like my personal transport washed. I will be onboard and coming in on a transport plane. Its a Murcielago Roadster and no matter what the cost, ill be paying you 20 million to wash it since its for a good cause (and might get me laid). I will be accompanied by a personal security squad of 20 men (my best) if you allow it.

PS: make the washing of my car last a good long time and I'll include another 20 million...

OOC: to all of you terrorists, spies, etc. i suggest you dont try to steal it... its got a few extras, heh heh...goddamn, my guy is horny... anyone who wants to gawk at this awesome car... go here: http://static24-72-18-78.reverse.accesscomm.ca/Murcielago/Roadster/index.html

Wickit Klownz, we thank you for your generosity, and would like to offer you an over-night stay at the resort.

---

Jason stated blankly at the Cyberutopian woman, then snapped out if it. "Yes ma'am, but...uhh...Whats the pad for?" He said, squinting at it.

You are very welcome, Chellis, It's all for a good cause, anyways. By the way, since my navy is currently engaged in a war, we might need your services again soon. And I might pay for a week or so at the resort depending on how long it takes your men to wash the CyberUtopian's shuttles... make it last a good long while, make sure your men don't damage it in any way, and beef up security around there and i'll give you 50 million dollars extra. I really love those suits they wear, you know? In any case, my transport plane is departing as we speak, so I must go. I'll be landing at the airport there shortly.

.:Bump for pervyness:.

Emperor Michael asks that 5 of our M1-A2 tanks be washed and hell throw in a free air freshner while your at it :)

I'll cover his bill and just pay you 20 million (make sure you make the washing of the Cyberutopians' ships take a long time, and give em a free week-long stay at the resort on me)

Our people thank you for covering our bill. ^_^ Kawaii ^_^

Yeah, they are, arent they? *gawks at them for a few minutes* :F *wipes away drool*

((Ahem. Wow, look at all the business I just got Chellis. :D I should do this more often.))

"Just carry it around with you, or put it somewhere safe. If you'll look at it a bit closer, you'll see 2 million USD has been wired to the Nigerian fund. The pad will wire the other 5 million when the job is done." She explained, grinning. "Understand?"

(in case youre wondering, heres a description of the President. Jet Black hair, hazel eyes, 6'2", and 200+ pounds of muscle (he was a marine))

"Hello, I'm President Mooty of The Wickit Klownz. It's a pleasure to meet you both." *kisses the Void Admiral's hand, then the Commodore's.*
"What are your names, if i may be so bold as to ask?"

.:BUMP FOR PEVRYNESS.:

the DNS Armada one of mental lands impirum class battleships pulles into one of the free docks. Admial Calhone leans out of the bridge window with a megaphone so that the washers can hear him.

"She needs a scrub down and a hot wax and for gods sake watch out for the bumber stickers."

thats $4,450,000 wired to ya

The Admiral wasn't exactly expecting to be swivelled around to meet someone, but she decided the handsome looks of this man were worth it.

"President Mooty, the pleasure's all mine. My title is Master Void Admiral Dëlain Goldfire, Class Four, but I'd rather you just called me Dëlain." She told him, playing with her hair a bit. "And this would be..."

The Commodore cut in, a smile growing on her lips. "Commodore Elis Daystanovik of the CAEDC. Why are you here?"

"Well, I'm here for three reasons, Ma'am. 1) public relations, 2) private relations, and 3) to get my car washed." *points to the Murcielago Roadster he arrived in and tells his security force to take a break*

*a faint beeping could be heard coming from inside President Mooty's jacket*

"excuse me for a moment, ladies."

*he pulled out the comm device and switched it on*
"Sir, we are nearing Knight's forces." Falkner told the President over the comm device. "Tell the Ships to ready the AA Guns and the phalanx systems, Falkner. Those A-10s are gonna be tough birds to kill."he said, aggravatedly. "Yes Sir." Falkner said, in a somewhat uneasy tone. " Anything else i should know about?"he asked Falkner, hoping the answer was no. " The TLAM Ships and Subs are nearing the Eastern Islands, shall i tell them to commence fire?" Falkner asked in an obviously scared tone of voice. "Tell them to hit the islands with everything they have, and tell the transports to ready the infantry" he said calmer than before. "Goodbye, Falkner" he said before closing the comm device.

"sorry about that, girls. my ally Knight need some anti-air support from my fleet. now, what are you two lovely ladies doing here?" he asked politely, with a grin on his face.

"That's some serious micromanagement." Elis whispered to the Admiral while Mooty was on the phone. "And they're still using Phalanxes."

Dëlain grinned and gave her friend a light nudge in the side to shut her up. "Quiet, he's a nice guy."

"Oh, we're just here to get those skimmers washed." Dëlain told the President, pointing behind him to the parked, and still unattended, shuttles. "And take a nice vacation. Looks like we picked the right place."

Elis nodded in unison with the Elf before speaking. "Public and private relations? Mind if I ask what they are?"

the DNS Armada one of mental lands impirum class battleships pulles into one of the free docks. Admial Calhone leans out of the bridge window with a megaphone so that the washers can hear him.

"She needs a scrub down and a hot wax and for gods sake watch out for the bumber stickers."

thats $4,450,000 wired to ya

OOC:Im really sorry, im trying to not get into space stuff... Cyberutopia is a small exception...

--------

IC: As the Wickit president and Cyberutopian admiral were talking, two elvish women came out to greet the Cyberutopians. "Shall we take you to your room?"Said the elder of the two, tho only looking around Twenty-three."Ohh, Mr. President, someone will be here for you shortly." She said, as she started to lead the two cyberutopian women.

OOC:Chellian elves actually gather to Torres, because of its great buisness oppertunities, as well as the fact that sirithilism is legal there, and not on the mainland. So about half the population is Elvish.

The man with the notebook was now sitting in a small, cramped, dark space. The walls were solid masses of bundles of cables, fiber optics, and routing devices. Small red and green LCDs burned in the darkness, giving the space a somehow nightmarish Christmas feel.
The room was called the Hub. It was the central, automated routing station for a majority of the facility's communications. Most of the time, the room was kept locked, for obvious reasons. The lock posed no problem for the man with the notebook. When he left, no one would ever know the room had been entered.
The man took a normal-looking PDA from his pocket. Its outer shell had belonged to a relatively inexpensive civilian model; its guts were high military grade. He connected the device to an open jack on one of the ubiquitous routers, and settled down for a long wait.

OOC: I have no idea what I'm going to do with this yet, but if it's going to affect someone adversely, I'll ask permission first. I'm not a total asshole. :wink:

Dëlain nodded at the Chellian Elf and began to walk slowly behind them.

She winked over her shoulder at the President. "I'll see you around, mmkay?"

Elis gave a quick smile and a small curtsey to Mooty before walking off after the Admiral. Soon they had disappeared around the corner.

i just want to warn you guys. sounds like fun but do you really want abunch of strangers running around inside your military vessels and gunships. do you really want to let other countries see what you have been up to military wise. have you ever known someone who was robbed by the cleaning lady? picture that on the military level. and consider this....while the cats away the mice will play. how far away is this country and is your country prepared for an attack while your military is far away getting washed? look at the name of my country. i am just mad i didnt think of the idea first.

((You might want to mark your OOC posts as OOC, otherwise it's very confusing. With satelite imagery and double agents, you don't need to look in on a carwash to find out about another's military, though it is applicable, I'm sure everyone here realizes and accepts those risks. It's a character RP after all, and the logical and statstical aspect of things is oftentimes warped for the sake of interaction. Finally, nobody's shipping their entire military here, so I'm sure there's plenty of forces at home to protect the homeland. Furthermore, if you want to use you "criminal minds" and steal or sabatoge something, I'm sure the victim country will be glad to bombard you into the ground.))

OOC: Just try it somebody. I dont care if its my military or not, i have a LOT of ships saying that you wont live. I havent even mobilized half of my forces to the war on Hawaiian Islands. Use that as a measurement of my naval and air forces.

OOC:Bah. Im the 44th largest arms exporter, I pretty much have the production plans for every modern tech weapon and vehicle, including many custom NS ones... Dont really need to sunder by good name by stealing...

OOC: do you have the rights to the Galaxy Sub?

IC:

"Goodbye, ladies, hope to see you again soon."

*President Mooty goes up to the desk*

"Hello. you see that car there?"

*points to his car, which is surrounded by soldiers chatting amongst themselves, enjoying watching the women in bikinis walk around*

"Make sure you dont scratch it, okay? The money has already been agreed upon and wired."

*Mooty orders half of his twelve soldiers to come with him, and tells the rest to stay with the car*

"Don't be so tense, men, have some fun."

.:bump!!!:.

.:Bump:.

We need our fleet flagship washed... AND we want one of those little pine tree fresheners to hang on the bridge, a little green one if possible.

RNS Vanguard (BB-20)

http://home.graffiti.net/bomfy:graffiti.net/vanguard_class_battleship.jpg

Displacement: 74,000 metric tons

Cost to Wash: $740,000

.:bump:.

bump bump bump

(Chellis, You have a customer....)

Taren drives up in his Ferarri. "Wanna wash it?"

ooc: I'm not so sure if Chellis even remembers this thread... it was before the move to Jolt, so he might not be able to find it.... ahh, fuck, who gives a shit...

ooc: I do. I was ready for some spy action. :D

((I want this to stay alive, as well. I wanted to pull something on the Prez of TWK, hehe. So...are we gonna keep going?))

(ooc: uh-oh...... okay, let's go ahead with this...although i might regret this..... ahh, to hell with it, i have no shame...)

((Well then you can go ahead and respond to my post before the forums moved.))

A fat Nerd in old tank (it is the comic book guy) approaches and talks to employee

"I need you to wash this now," siad the nerd. "Don't mess with my star trek bumper stickers. My lightsaber, or my porn. If you do you will be banned for life from my comic book store."

http://cbg.nohomers.net/images/newgrab4.gif

IC:

"Goodbye, ladies, hope to see you again soon."

*President Mooty goes up to the desk*

"Hello. you see that car there?"

*points to his car, which is surrounded by soldiers chatting amongst themselves, enjoying watching the women in bikinis walk around*

"Make sure you dont scratch it, okay? The money has already been agreed upon and wired."

*Mooty orders half of his twelve soldiers to come with him, and tells the rest to stay with the car*

"Don't be so tense, men, have some fun."

ooc:I already have, its just buried in a couple of pages of bumps....

http://cbg.nohomers.net/images/newgrab4.gif
Comic book guy: Your employees ate my HOT POCKETS!!! YOU BANNED FOR LIFE, ALL OF YOU BANNED FOR LIFE I TELL YOU!!!
*hands go to chest*
Whats happening, pain, left side numb, shortness of breath, can't describe symptoms much longer

ooc: HAHAHAHA, keep it up, IDF, youre funny as hell....

*President Mooty walks into the Hotel and up to the counter.

"So, which room are those two women in?" Pesident Mooty asked the young boy at the desk.

"I can't tell you that, sir." the boy protested.

*President Mooty hands him 50,000 Blunts*

"Now will you tell me?" he said, smiling.

"Room 263, sir." the boy said, glad that his hopes had become reality.

"Is room 264 open? Because I've always preferred rooms of that number for some reason, you get my drift?"

"264 Is occupied, but perhaps you would stay in 262, sir?" he said, looking through the book."

"That'll be just perfect. I'll take that one, please."

*The boy at the desk hands Mooty the key, and Mooty begins to walks towards the elevator.*

New customer

Eric Cartman peddling his little bike approaches the car wash, This is when Eric was a cop while Officer Barbrady was going to school and learning how to read.

http://fox2k.net/graphics/wallpaper/cartman2.jpg

Cartman: I need this bike washed before I go on traffic patrol.

Attendant: OK, it will be 1 hour until we can start, Union rules you know

Cartman: I'm a cop, you will respect MY AUTHORITAH!

Attendant: That's cute kid, playing cop and all, but we have our break now, you're not a cop and that's just a little kids bike.

Cartman: RESPECT MY AUTHORITAH!!! *beats attendent with night stick*

Attendant; AGGHHH! My Knee!

Cartman: That's what happens when you don't respect my authoritah!!!

http://www.jograham.com/animgall/toons/people/southprk/cartman2/cartcop.gif

ooc: DUDE, Cartman's the shit!! I fucking love south park!!

Sign Us Up!

A clean army is a happy army.

http://www.forgeworld.co.uk/acatalog/cwarhoundp1store.jpg

We'll bring it ... you weigh it.

Noble Thaddeus
The Church of White Noise

The man's search through the facility's communications turned up very little. Apparently IDF wanted something blown up, and the facility's masters seemed willing to comply, but the deal went nowhere.

Dismayed, the man packed up his gear. Backtracking to the washroom, he donned his stained "incognito" duds once again, and headed outward to the vast vehicle-washing fields.

Bump

Elis sighed and looked over at her companion.

"You know, he's just trying to get into your panties." She commented rather severely.

Dëlain stared over at the Commodore. "Elis..."

The shorter woman grinned at her. "Oh, right, you say underwear conflicts with the tacsuit. Of course."

"Of course. Besides, I can use that to our advantage. He's the leader of a nation, there must be something cool in that briefcase."

The Commodore rolled her eyes. "You're always able to get the most out of everything, hm?"

"I try." The Elf responded as they came to their room.

The Void Admiral tipped both of their Elven guides handsomely and opened the door.

"What now?"

"We relax. Go out for dinner later, maybe lead on our presidential friend some more."

Both grinned at the plan.

"So simple." Elis commented.

"So very simple...and it will be fun, too." Dëlain replied in a bubbly tone.

"Yeah, for you, you're the one he's drooling all over." Came the counter.

"Mmm. I think you're right..." She said, mockingly wiping her shoulder a bit.

Both of them laughed together.

We'll ship ten Mark I MBTs.

"Yes, that's dried blood on the chassis. No, we haven't used these in ten years. Huh? You can have them, sure, 4 mil each," Captain Jarom West shrugged, tossing the keys to the tanks to the nearest car wash person. he captain's orders were to get the tanks cleaned, and prefferably loose them along the way.

West naturally looked like FF7's Cloud, which was why he got shipped out on PR stunts. His superiors didn't care that he was also one of the best tank company leaders in the High Guard, which was proven in battle and not on the training range.

"Right, I want everyone back here in two days," he said to the thirty soldiers under his command, and stalked off to the nearest bar, where he would get solidly drunk, then perhaps a bit drunker. Maybe a hooker for the night...

We will contribute 10 billion USD for the rebuilding of Nigeria.

I don't really need my vehicles washed. The rain does that job.

Feline, depsite its wariness of Chellis, will be sending one of its new John F. Kerry class coastal patrol boats to be washed to help out Nigeria.

----------

At Department of Espionage and Covert Operations (DOECO) headquarters, Fluffy Poansa sat in her chair, curled up, her tailed flopping around. She reached her tail out, and pressed it down on the button. A red light panned over the room, and the computer said, "No bugs detected." She pressed another button. "I will see Miss Cartwright now." she said.

A young Human woman, dressed in the uniform of a Lieutenant of the Feline Navy, walked in. "Greetings, Miss Cartwright. I have heard glowing reports of you as one of our monitors of the Navy. I've arranged for you to be transferred to the command of one of those new John F. Kerrys... the F.S. Charles Robert Malden. How does that sound?

"Excellent, Director, I accept. However, I sense there is another motivation to this other than just getting me a command. Could it possibly have anything to do with the Navy's recent decision to send a John F. Kerry to Chellis for a wash? Perhaps to gather information on other militaries in attendance?"

"Your wisdom belies your youth, Cartwright. You are quite correct. I've already arranged for it to be the Charles Robert Malden. And you have accepted. Take this dossier, and read it. It instructs you what to do. When done, feed it into your ship's quantum reactor for disintegration."

"Yes, Director. I will be sure not to fail you."

"I am sure you will not."

Cartwright began to get up, and Poansa looked up towards her. "Oh, and Cartwright, one more thing: Be absolutely sure you do not fail me."

----------

Cartwright took a simple civil transport to Arcology 5, the center of Feline's naval fleet. She climbed aboard the ship, and gave the crew their orders, and the ship set sail, carrying $650.

After President Mooty had placed all of his belongings in his room, he walked up to one of his men.

"I want you to bug the room next door next time they leave. I want to know what they are saying to each other. MAKE SURE that the bugs are not easy to find. Look in my briefcase for the bugs. Leave the rest of the items IN THAT CASE. Okay?" Mooty said, making sure that the SpecOp Soldier understood that the bugs must NOT be found.

Mooty walked into his room, and acquired a large amout of money, two .45 ACP handguns and two extra clips for each of them from his personal suitcase. he put both of the handguns into their vest holsters, and left the room wearing his favorite coat, the one that was issued to him while he was in the WKMC as a sniper.

After telling all of his other personnel to take a break, he went over and knocked on the door of Room 263 and waited for an answer, knowing that they were expecting him.

[OOC: the bugs cannot be found, okay? just something done as a precautionary measure, and so he can spy on them and find what they think of him...lol..]

Dëlain opened the door to the room, and gave Mooty a brilliant smile. The Commodore, on the other hand, noticed the bulky .45s under his jacket and slipped her hand a bit closer to her pillow from her seat on the far bed. Both women had changed into more casual clothing, the President would notice.

"President Mooty, what a charming suprise. Please, come in. Do you need anything?" The Elf asked coyly.

President Mooty, noticing the Commodore, quickly said "Don't worry, these are in case I find trouble. My men have been given breaks, and I don't want to get mugged, you know?" He said, showing both of them his handguns. "You can carry firearms, too. I don't want you feeling vulnerable. If you didn't bring any, which" Mooty points at her pillow "I'm sure you did, you can borrow one of my men's pistols. In any case, I was wondering if both of you would like to go have dinner with me?"

I was hoping you would attend, CyberUtopia... (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=344881)

Elis moves her hand away from the pillow sheepishly and nods. "I don't think we'll need them. You've clearly got us covered."

An eyebrow goes up at his invitation, and she looks at her companion.

"Both of us?" The Elf at the door said quizzically. "Well it's ok with me, if Elis wants to come."

The woman at the far end of the room nodded and moved to stand beside and slightly behind Dëlain.

"Well that settles it. We don't have anything else to take care of...so where to?" Dëlain asked, giving him a big grin.

ooc: uh-oh, I feel a catfight coming on...btw, Mooty's gonna end up using his pistols sometime...

IC:

"I was thinking about this Italian restaurant near here. It's really your choice." He said, hoping they would be okay with riding in the military humvee he had to use.

"We'll go there in the military humvee I brought along with me. My personal car is being washed right now. Is that okay with both of you?" He asked nicely, hoping he wouldn't have to use his pistols.

((Catfight? Maaaaaybe.))

"Sure, I've gotta ride in things similar to Humvees all the time." The Commodore assured him. "And I love Italian."

"Well, I don't mind either." Dëlain agreed. "Lead on."

"Good to hear, Commodore." He grinned. "Well, let's go, if you're both ready." He said, starting to walk down the stairs. "So, tell me more about yourselves. I only know your ranks and names." He said, genuinely curious about the two beautiful women.

ooc: Some idiot's going to try to steal his car. i feel bad for the punk.

((Hehe, he could take one of the girls hostage.))

Dëlain smiled sweetly over at him. "Well, let's see. I'll be 24 in a couple days, actually. This is kind of a birthday present, to myself. I should be off fighting this huge floating cannon thing on a suicide mission...but I decided to pass. Both Elis and I grew up together, and went to the same schools, but we split up to go to different colleges. The government watched me for a while out of curiousity and declared me a tactical genius. Must have been all those real time strategy games. They pulled me out of college at 19 and put me through a 7 year military school. I finished in 2. I've been heading up the space fleet of Cyber ever since. We just entered a war to protect an ally thats on the verge of getting completely decimated, and we've been on high alert since then. High command was royally pissed about me taking a break, but I can get away with things. I try to get away as much as I can, 'cause I really don't like devoting my entire life to the military."

She giggled. "That's a lot, isn't it."

"But we want to know about you, too." Elis cut in, winking at him.

He laughed. "Well, I joined the Wickit Klownz Marine Corps when I was 18 and was assigned to field duty as a sniper. I was famous for never being seen, even after killing my target. The last mission I was on, I was spotted before I had even gotten halfway there." He pulled up his right sleeve showing the girls two large scars, both up near his shoulder. "My friend was killed, but i got away because of the handguns I always carried with me. Those handguns are the ones I'm carrying right now..." He said. he would've continued, but he saw the expression on the girls' faces. "When I got back to firebase, they said I should quit the Corps and go into politics. they always thought I was made for politics, and not the battlefield. They were right." He said, walking out of the hotel.

"SIR!! THEYRE TAKING YOUR CAR!!" one of his men shouted to Mooty. "Don't worry, soldier. They'll be back." he said, pulling out a small device with a video screen. He flipped it on and a live transmission of the man who took his car driving it away laughing appeared on the screen. Mooty used the thumbsticks on the device and turned it around. When the car was back, the door opened at the touch of a button and the seat ejected the man to the left of the vehicle.

As the man was running away, Mooty put a silencer on one of his pistols and fired two rounds into the man's back. He then walked up on the man, and shot him in the back of the head. "Well, ladies, let's go get something to eat." he said, after telling his men to put the body in the sea, and to weight it down with bricks. He opened the doors to the humvee and helped each of them in.

"Hum. That's interesting." Elis whispered to herself.

The glance the two girls shared confirmed they had more to say than that, but they wouldn't dare.

Both climbed into the Humvee, Dëlain riding shotgun and Elis lounging in the back. The drive went by in silence.

"I'm sorry about back there. It's just that that car was given to me by the men I used to serve with as a gift. They gave it to me when I was elected president." he explained to them. "It's very important to me. Do you forgive me for overreacting back there?" he asked, smiling.

"The fu...Stop him!" Yelled one of the chellian soldiers, as they saw the president gun down the man. "President mooty, freeze!" Yelled one of the soldier, as a squad got their guns aimed at the car. A chellian METRO swivled in front of the presidents car, forcing it to stop.

One of the men pulled the president out of the car, and two more jumped him, a fourth attempting to take his gun. "Delain Mooty, you are hearby under the custody of the chellian gallant armed forces and judicial system. That may be the way you handle things in your country, but here in torres." Said one of the troops still standing, as one of the troops struggled to cuff the man. "How the hell did he sneak in guns?" Said one of the soldiers to one of the others, their guns still leveled on him. More troops began gathering up, to see the commotion.

ooc: you dont think I actually killed the guy, do you?

"Well, if you say so, but I think he might have something to say about it..." Mooty says, pointing at the man, still alive, being held up by one of Mooty's soldiers.

"Never underestimate a man and his custom paintball gun." Mooty said, showing him a third gun, that was tucked in his pants. Mooty then fired two rounds into the pavement to illustrate that it was indeed a paintball gun. "However, if you don't allow guns, why the hell did you allow my personal securit detail in here? Oh, and don't worry about the bum who tried to steal my car, he'll have a headache, but he'll be fine."

ooc: you dont think I actually killed the guy, do you?

"Well, if you say so, but I think he might have something to say about it..." Mooty says, pointing at the man, still alive, being held up by one of Mooty's soldiers.

"Never underestimate a man and his custom paintball gun." Mooty said, showing him a third gun, that was tucked in his pants. Mooty then fired two rounds into the pavement to illustrate that it was indeed a paintball gun. "However, if you don't allow guns, why the hell did you allow my personal securit detail in here? Oh, and don't worry about the bum who tried to steal my car, he'll have a headache, but he'll be fine."

"We allow security forces, as they are actually responsible with weapons. Guns arent allowed in the hotel itself, them being checked in when you go in, and vica versa. There are metal detectors to enforce that.

You told your men to put him to sea and weigh him down with bricks. We dont act to kindly to people having their men try to kill chellians in cold blood, no matter what they did. You will be asked to leave if you do anything more of such an irresponsible manner." Said one of the men, looking at the chellian, then leaning towards mooty. "We are gonna have to persuade him not to prosecute you, which will probably entail letting him off the hook. Next time, dont try to murder chellians. Let the military handle criminals."

"Hey, you want the guy to be happy? Give him this." Mooty says, handing the soldier a bag of sapphire gems. "Tell him to pawn them and have a good time with the money."

"Hey, you want the guy to be happy? Give him this." Mooty says, handing the soldier a bag of sapphire gems. "Tell him to pawn them and have a good time with the money."

"Whatever" The soldier said, tossing the bag to another soldier, who pocketed it. "Just get out of here. People like you severly disturb me." The soldier said, walking away with the soldier who pocketed the gems.

Mooty drives off with Delain and Elis.

Mooty turns to the ladies. "Well, whatcha think of that? Fun, eh? Hahaha, they fall for it every time. That guy had been hired by me, by the way... I don't want both of you thinking I'm like that. I just wanted to have a little bit of fun with Chellis's forces. I figured I might as well give the soldier something for actually being brave enough to act on what he had seen. Too many of them would've walked away from that..."

Well, this looks interesting, the man thought. A man he recognized as President Mooty of The Wickit Klownz had seemingly just executed a pair of carjackers. He had to admit admiring the man for having the...stones...to take care of such a problem personally and without remorse. Understandably, the Chellian guards immediately tried to arrest him.
Then the guards helped one of the "dead" men up. Laughing, Mooty. fired his gun into the pavement--it was a mere paintball gun.
I'm almost more impressed with him more for jerking the local security detail around,[i] the man thought. Even so, it was time to get down to business.

He continued onward, eventually coming to a row of gleaming, silver intra-system shuttles. [i]These must belong to Cyberutopia, he mused. Roughly half of them had been washed; teams of five worked on three of the remaining ships. Men on the ground fired high-pressure hoses at the ships, scouring the grime and carbon-scoring from their shiny surfaces. Men on precarious scaffolds struggled to dry and wax hard-to-reach areas.
He hadn't expected spacecraft to come here when he'd set out on this mission. Since they had, he could scrub most of Phase Two. Who cared about the engine specifications of aircraft and battleships when one could steal the schematics of a reusable spacecraft?
He needed access to those vehicles. The only way to get it, he realized, would be to go through the Cyberutopian officials who flew them here.
He turned on his heels and proceeded back towards the hotel area.

One of the pilots overseeing the shuttles being washed leered warily at the man's back and mumbled something softly into a small radio. It squacked back at him and he nodded to himself.

---

Dëlain was clearly puzzled. "That was...bizzare. Do you fool around with the security where ever you go? You're right, it does seem kind of fun."

Well, this looks interesting, the man thought. A man he recognized as President Mooty of The Wickit Klownz had seemingly just executed a pair of carjackers. He had to admit admiring the man for having the...stones...to take care of such a problem personally and without remorse. Understandably, the Chellian guards immediately tried to arrest him.
Then the guards helped one of the "dead" men up. Laughing, Mooty. fired his gun into the pavement--it was a mere paintball gun.
I'm almost more impressed with him more for jerking the local security detail around,[i] the man thought. Even so, it was time to get down to business.

He continued onward, eventually coming to a row of gleaming, silver intra-system shuttles. [i]These must belong to Cyberutopia, he mused. Roughly half of them had been washed; teams of five worked on three of the remaining ships. Men on the ground fired high-pressure hoses at the ships, scouring the grime and carbon-scoring from their shiny surfaces. Men on precarious scaffolds struggled to dry and wax hard-to-reach areas.
He hadn't expected spacecraft to come here when he'd set out on this mission. Since they had, he could scrub most of Phase Two. Who cared about the engine specifications of aircraft and battleships when one could steal the schematics of a reusable spacecraft?
He needed access to those vehicles. The only way to get it, he realized, would be to go through the Cyberutopian officials who flew them here.
He turned on his heels and proceeded back towards the hotel area.
ooc: YOUR guys gonna die if he lets Mooty, Delain, or Elis see you messing around with the ships... and not with a paintball gun either.

"Yes, I do. It always seems like there so bored, so i give them something to do. Needless to say, it's made me and my men grow closer. I'll pull something on them, and vice versa, We're like a bunch of friends that protect each other." he told Delain.

"I saw that look you two gave to each other. Listen, never be afraid to say anything to me. I would never hurt you two. Okay?" he said, a bit sad that they had been scared of him.

Dëlain grinned at him. "Thank you for the reassurance, Mooty. You're a good man."

"We can hold our own, though." Elis added from the back of the Humvee.

"It's more...I just don't like to see people die, and it looked like you killed the guy back there. It makes them seem more sentient than you want to think they are. It's a personal reason, not that we're scared of you. That you would hurt us didn't cross my mind for a second, really. I trust you." The Elf finished, her smile having faded a little.

"I'm sorry for decieving you, Delain." he said quickly.

"It's alright, really, it was all in the interest of good fun after all." The Elven woman told him, placing an elegant hand on his cheek in reassurance.

ooc: YOUR guys gonna die if he lets Mooty, Delain, or Elis see you messing around with the ships... and not with a paintball gun either. OOC: Understood. Note that I don't intend to start an international incident here. In any case, as I said on page four, I'll ask OOC before I do anything important involving other nations. I know the character's intention (obviously, to steal technical data on the shuttles), but I'm not sure how to go about it yet, and I'm just hoping for a fun character RP.

OOC: Understood. Note that I don't intend to start an international incident here. In any case, as I said on page four, I'll ask OOC before I do anything important involving other nations. I know the character's intention (obviously, to steal technical data on the shuttles), but I'm not sure how to go about it yet, and I'm just hoping for a fun character RP.

((It's actually perfectly fine with me, it's not like the shuttles are especially sensitive hardware, and it could be fun. The more your guy watches them, he'll see that the guarding pilot switches off every two hours, but the heaviest weapon among them is only a carbine. You could disable one of them when the washers wouldn't be washing (i.e. at night) and sneak into a shuttle, and then you'd have a whole host of safeguards to work around. So go ahead and try it, you might actually get away with it.))

Mooty blushed. It had been a long time since anyone had done that to him. He realized how bad he missed being cared about, aside from political issues. But something in him said that something about all of this was wrong. Very wrong.

The Elf sensed something about Mooty. She withdrew her hand and looked at him with her big, beautiful eyes.

"Um...Mooty? Is something wrong?" She asked quietly.

"No" he said smiling,"Nothing's wrong. I just... it's just been a while since anyone showed me kindness without doing it only because I'm a president..."

"Oh..." Her smile returned. "Well I can certainly make up for that, I see a lot in you besides your presidential status."

"We're here" he said, stepping out of the car, blushing heavily. Mooty walked around the car and helped both of them out.

"Yes sir, table for three" he said, following the man to their table. He pulled two chairs back for the girls, and sat across the table from them.

"Can I help you, Mr..."
"Smith will suffice," the man said. "I'm looking for the woman who arrived here from Cyberutopia." Before coming to the front desk, he had returned to his "forward command post"--a cheap hotel room half a mile away--and changed his attire. Instead of his worn, frayed, nondescript overcoat covering a Communications uniform, he was now dressed in a smart black jacket and loose-fitting brown pants. Beneath them he wore a Chellian Security uniform--just in case. He had also removed his beard (which had been fake, at any rate).
"I can't tell you that," the boy at the desk said.
Carrot or stick? the man wondered. After a moment, he decided a "carrot" was safer in this case. "Are you sure?" he asked, laying a hand on the desk. As he removed it, a small wad of Chellian Euros lay in its place. The boy snatched them and counted them even as the man stood before him. The bills totaled five thousand.
"Room 263," the boy said quietly.

When Smith arrived at Room 263, he found the door locked. Were there time, he would have settled for a wait in a nearby room, studying her movements for several days--but she wouldn't be here forever. After assuring himself that the corridor was empty, he took out his beefed-up PDA. A thin, rectangular device was attached to it by a black cord. Smith slipped the cardlike attachment into the the door's electronic reader and activated a lockbreaking program.
Within forty seconds, the door's lock light changed from red to green. Pocketing his PDA, Smith quietly slipped into Room 263. He was not so naive as to think the Cyberutopian woman would leave an access card or something in her room, but he might find something of use...
He heard a noise coming from the bathroom. Jesus Christ, he realized, I forgot about the other woman! Very quickly, he produced a tiny digital camera--no larger than a pocketknife--from one of his cuffs, and photographed some papers on a nearby desk. Then he slinked with some urgency out of the room and closed the door behind him.
Odin's beard, that was too close, he thought. Fortunately, he wasn't caught. He walked down the hall nonchalantly; he would review the photos he had taken. Perhaps one of those papers had a secret he could use.

(A few OOC notes: Thanks for the tip, Cyberutopia, but Smith was already on his way to the hotel before you told me...
The boy at the desk is not the same guy that Klownz paid 50,000 blunts. No way my bribe could compete with that.
Also, I didn't feel like referring to this guy as "the man" for the next however many posts, so I gave him a name. I just couldn't help dropping a Matrix quote while doing so...;)
And I haven't forgotten about the bugs placed in that room. I don't know if they included cameras or not, but if they do...well, that just adds fuel to the fire, doesn't it?)

"Sir, what were you doing there?" came a voice from behind Smith. It was one of Mooty's guards. Smith had exited the hotel, but thanks to teamwork, one of the outside guards was notified of the man's appearance and his doings.

Mooty's guard, Lohak, had his MP5 pointed at the man's back, from a distance of 12 yards. "I NEED A CHELLIAN OFFICER RIGHT NOW!!" Lohak yelled. and two rather large Chellian men came out to answer.

"What do you want?" one of them asked. He was carrying an M14 and a 9mm sidearm.

"This man broke into the Cyberutopian womens' room. Another of my squad saw him exiting the room, but lost him in the hotel. We don't know why he was in there, but we know he wasn't supposed to be there." Lohak said, never taking his eyes off of Smith.


ooc: Chellis, since you'll prolly complain if I RP your men anymore, I'm waiting for you.


"So Elis, tell me about yourself. I've heard Delain's story, what's yours?" Mooty asked, sitting down at the table. He was not wearing his radio earpiece, and thus was ignorant of the situation back at the docks.

OOC: Finally, some excitement! :D

IC: Smith raised his hands in the air. He knew the jig was, as the saying goes, up unless he could get those guards much, much closer.
"Look, I'm staying in Room 363," he said in a nervous voice. His masters had trained him thoroughly; his training included ways to pass himself off as a normal person who'd stumbled into the wrong place at the wrong time. "I was on the wrong floor. I didn't know it was that serious--please, please, just let me show you my card."
Though he sounded like a pushover, his nerves were like high-carbon steel. He readied himself to make a grab for the dual 9mm Seventrees ASPs holstered snugly to his hips, if he felt he could get an opportunity to use them.

"Buddy, we saw you coming OUT of that room, meaning you would've had to pick the lock or steal the keycard. As for your card, throw it on the ground behind you." Lohak said, trying to avoid getting closer. More of Mooty's men were arriving, and many were armed.

"It's not like that," Smith protested. He could hear more guards approaching from behind him--a dozen? More? It was hard to tell. "I was on the wrong floor. I walked in where my room should be, right? The door was open, but the stuff in there wasn't mine, so I know I'm in the wrong place."
Too many people, he thought. Too open here. Need to get back inside somehow...
He searched his pockets for a card which did not exist. "Oh, hell," he said plaintively, "this can't be happening. I don't have my card!" He turned around to face the gunmen--a brash move, which he knew might get him shot, but he also knew it might make him look like an ordinary sap who didn't realize just how close he was to getting killed. The hotel was less than fifty meters away. "Look, let me talk to the guy at the desk. He'll tell you who I am. For God's sake, please!"

"Buddy, you're not getting awa... HE'S ARMED!!" Lohak yelled, noticing the pistols. "TAKE THE PISTOLS OUT OF THE HOLSTERS AND TOSS THEM TOWARDS ME!!"

OOC: Actually, I intended the pistols to be hidden under the jacket. He's a spy, he's not going to walk around with his guns hanging out like a cowboy, after all...;)

dual 9mm Seventrees ASPs holstered snugly to his hips
ooc: guns create bulges, man... how do you think Elis noticed Mooty's pistols earlier...

OOC: Fair enough.
IC: Damn, damn it to hell, Smith thought, mentally adding a string of curses that would make a pirate cry. There was no sense keeping up the charade now, and there was no hope of shooting his way out of this mess-not with those low-capacity ASPs at any rate. One by one, he slowly pulled a pair of pistols (http://www.securityarms.com/20010315/galleryfiles/2500/2524.htm) from his holsters, which he'd thought reasonably well-concealed beneath his jacket. Obviously, this Mooty fellow's guards are better-trained than these Chellians, he realized. He'd have to keep that in mind.
As he threw one of his pistols towards the guards, he discretely allowed the tiny digital camera concealed in his other sleeve to drop into his palm, and he flicked it into the soil surrounding a nearby decorative tree. He hoped the act of throwing the pistol would prevent them from noticing the camera. The fact that it was evening and the camera was dark gray had to help, too. In the waning light, it sort-of blended in with the dark soil. He hoped it would be enough. Hell, I just hope I live long enough to come pick it up, he thought.
There was nothing he could do to hide the PDA--it was too big to throw without attacting notice. They would definitely find the electronic lockpick attachment, but if they tried to access the PDA without the proper password, a tiny thermite charge would permanently destroy its hardware, rendering the hard drive and all the incriminating data within completely unsalvageable. His employers would be protected, at any rate.
He threw the other pistol and put his hands behind his head.
There's hope yet, Smith decided. If what I saw earlier today is any indication, Mooty will want to kill me himself. I may be able to use that to my advantage.

"That was an excellent choice, buddy" Lohak said smiling. "Now, if you have anything else on you that we would like to see, I suggest you give it to us before the strip search."

"Lohak, do you think we need to look over the area for something he might have dropped? Maybe in the bushes right here?" one of the other guards asked.

"Sure, go get the metal detector from the plane we came in on. President Mooty was going to go to a beach and see if he could find anything of interest with it. Well, wait a second, we'll give this guy an opportunity to admit to it before we look" Lohak said, hoping that they wouldn't have to look the area over, as was standard procedure in TWK after arresting someone.

OOC: I know this is kind of a small point when Mr. Smith is being held at gunpoint, but I have to make two observations: First, metal detectors use magnetic fields to detect metal. This may erase the data on the digital camera.
Second, the camera is small, its casing is plastic, and its internals are mostly plastic and silicon. Obviously it has some metal, in the form of wiring and soldered connections and soforth, but I don't know if a detector would be sensitive enough to pick it up.
Even so, if your guards are walking back and forth trying to find anything Smith dropped, they might well just end up seeing the thing anyway, so I won't be too surprised if they find it.

IC: Arrogant bastard, Smith thought. Hope I get a chance to wipe that grin off his face. Betraying no emotion, he took out the PDA and carefully laid it down, lockpick attachment and all.
"Congratulations," he said in a monotone voice, "you caught me. But I do have one question--why so many guards? They poured in before you even knew I was armed."
Something suddenly occurred to him. He fought back the urge to smile as he waited for the guards to cuff him, beat the blessed crap out of him, or both. I may yet get the opportunity to teach that guard a little humility after all, he thought. But I'm not out of the fire yet...

"Well, I'm guessing they came because my friend here was yelling for everyone to get you as you were coming out" Lohak said, patting one of the soldiers on the back.

Elis smiled over at Mooty as she took a sip of ice water. "Well, as you know, Dëlain and I grew up together, as neighbors. The rest of the block was all boys, so the two of us teamed up and taught them a little lesson of who were the real bosses. We were inseperable after that. I tried following in Dëlain's footsteps after I got out of college with a degree in general nanotechnology, and co-founded the CAEDC, so we get to work together often. We've come up with a good number of new tactics together."

Dëlain nodded in agreement. "Like I said, we compliment each other, and inspire each other."

((Bump!))

OOC: Sorry for the long delay in posting

IC: The two chellians had been dumbfounded by what was happening, so they had just perched themselves against the wall and waited for backup. Finally, a chellian squad burst in the hall from both sides, guns ready. "Holy fucking shit! How the hell are there so many weapons in here?" One of them started, as a sergeant walked up. "God damnit, I dont know who you Mooty guards think you are, but this is torres, not your land, whatever the hell it is. Please go back to the desk and check in your weapons, or dont come into the hotel. This is a gun free area for a reason....God..." He said, as he walked up to smith. "We'll take custody of him now, as he is under chellian law in a chellian territory." He said, as he took out a pair of hand cuffs.

OOC: Sorry for the long delay in posting

IC: The two chellians had been dumbfounded by what was happening, so they had just perched themselves against the wall and waited for backup. Finally, a chellian squad burst in the hall from both sides, guns ready. "Holy fucking shit! How the hell are there so many weapons in here?" One of them started, as a sergeant walked up. "God damnit, I dont know who you Mooty guards think you are, but this is torres, not your land, whatever the hell it is. Please go back to the desk and check in your weapons, or dont come into the hotel. This is a gun free area for a reason....God..." He said, as he walked up to smith. "We'll take custody of him now, as he is under chellian law in a chellian territory." He said, as he took out a pair of hand cuffs.
(HINT HINT: theyre outside of the hotel... they grabbed their guns on the way out...)

(HINT HINT: theyre outside of the hotel... they grabbed their guns on the way out...)

OOC: Although all comments have been made about this happening in the hall...

the premir looked at his sace corvette urgh laser burns on the paint this needs washing
oooc do you wash 23kelometer long spaceships he head to cheilis vechicle wash

il pay 40 billion

Why the hell are your corvettes, which are the smallest ships in a fleet, 23 "kelometers" long? You'd go bankrupt just by thinking about building one. Besides, Chellis doesn't do spaceships, and you've been turned into a Las Vegas ripoff, anyway.

We were wondering if you could wash:

>>>One Nimitz-class carrier (spotless, too. Guns cleaned, polished, up -- everything)

>>>One DD-X destroyer (clean the railguns, too, please)

>>>Two Red October class missile submarines

There are some ICBM's that got a bit scrached up and dirty. We are going to send over three ICBM's for you to clean, if you do clean it.

Security will be provided by one hundred Dersconi Marines.

We were wondering if you could wash:

>>>One Nimitz-class carrier (spotless, too. Guns cleaned, polished, up -- everything)

>>>One DD-X destroyer (clean the railguns, too, please)

>>>Two Red October class missile submarines

There are some ICBM's that got a bit scrached up and dirty. We are going to send over three ICBM's for you to clean, if you do clean it.

Security will be provided by one hundred Dersconi Marines.

OOC: What railguns? ;)

IC: Chellis is awaiting the delivery currently, and will start asap.

It is sailing towards you. Please allow for the Marines to land on your territory. THey are there to protect Dersconi Assets.

IC: Like clockwork, Smith thought. In fact, it was better than he'd expected--the Chellians seemed genuinely upset by the liberties Mooty's guards had taken. He allowed the newly arrived guards to cuff him without trouble...there would be enough of that later.

OOC: The confrontation between Mr. Smith and Mooty's guards did in fact happen just outside the hotel.
Also, I said earlier that I'd ask permission if I was going to do something drastic. Well, Chellis, I'd like to kill or injure a few of your guards in an escape (or escape attempt, depending on how it goes).

IC: Like clockwork, Smith thought. In fact, it was better than he'd expected--the Chellians seemed genuinely upset by the liberties Mooty's guards had taken. He allowed the newly arrived guards to cuff him without trouble...there would be enough of that later.

OOC: The confrontation between Mr. Smith and Mooty's guards did in fact happen just outside the hotel.
Also, I said earlier that I'd ask permission if I was going to do something drastic. Well, Chellis, I'd like to kill or injure a few of your guards in an escape (or escape attempt, depending on how it goes).

OOC: Sorry then. Lets just say my soldiers didnt like mootys guards harassing people in chellis, and thanked them for apprehending him, and would take him. dont really wanna re-write that...

Feel free to kill NPC's like that, just not gratuitously. There is a squad of 12 around the guy, until they bring him to a small shed which will act as a prison. Makeshift prison under 2 man guard, heh.

The Chellian guards walked Smith down a service path leading toward the rear of the facility. They kept close to him; four kept ahead, four behind, and two on either side of him.
"So, what were you doing back there?" the guard behind him said, poking him with something--a nightstick, or perhaps a gun barrel. "Sneaking a look at the Master Void General's room?"
Smith said nothing. So, a Master Void General, he thought. Should have known. Those files he'd photographed earlier might contain something even more useful than security schedules or ship schematics, then. He hoped Mooty's grunts hadn't found the camera.
"Not in a chatting mood, eh?" the guard behind him said. "That's fine--we'll find a way to loosen your tongue."
"Cut it out, Frank," one of the guards to his right said. "Just cart him in and lock him up."
After a few minutes, the guards shoved him into a Quonset hut near the back of the place. The inside was almost lightless, except for a tiny gap between the door and the floor. In the evening, that didn't help very much at all. The air was cold and damp.
Smith heard the guards place some kind of lock on the door; then some of them walked away.
This was more than he'd hoped for. When Mooty's guards had apprehended him, he'd realized that he would be placed in the custody of the comparatively less-trained Chellian guards. He knew they wouldn't be that much of a problem. He hadn't realized the Chellians would literally throw him in a shed out back and practically forget about him.
Even so, he had to do some quick investigating before making a break for freedom. He slammed his shoulder against the sheet-metal door--not hard enough to cause any damage, but the movement of the door did tell him he was dealing with either a padlock or a combination lock, not a sturdy deadbolt.
"Keep it down in there, asshole," a guard shouted.
"Alright, alright," Smith said, feigning resignation. He took a moment to explore the darkness of the shed. His night-vision was fairly good, but the ambient light was still insufficient for him to make anything out clearly. He had to feel his way around. He found nothing particularly interesting--empty shelves, cobwebs, piles of dead flies, a stack of what appeared to be traffic cones. The walls were all fairly solid corrugated steel.
Time for another sounding. Smith threw his weight against one of the walls, creating a dull, hollow, echoing boom. "I said knock it the hell off, prick," the guard said again.
"He'll wear himself out eventually," another voice said.
"He'd better."

After repeating the process three more times over the next hour, he felt fairly confident from the voices he'd heard that only two guards were watching him. When one of the guards announced that he was leaving to take a leak, Smith knew it was time to act. He pulled out a small switchblade he'd hidden in his boot and began scraping, quietly, against the door.
"What the hell are you doing in there?" the lone guard asked. Smith only continued scraping. He didn't intend to actually damage the door in that fashion--but in life, like in chess, one often wins not by going to the enemy, but by luring the enemy in for the kill.
"Okay, smartass," the guard said, getting up. Smith saw the shadows of his legs cross into the slit of light beneath the door. "Funtime's over--"
Stepping back a few feet and steeling himself, Smith thrusted all of his weight against the door, concentrating his force behind the lock. The lock, or perhaps just the latch, broke under the strain and the door slammed outward. The guard was knocked on his ass, and before he could draw his gun, scream, or wet himself, Smith drove his heel into the man's neck, shattering his trachea. The man gurgled for breath and grasped at his throat, now unable to scream. Smith knelt down, grabbed his head in both hands, and wrenched it to one side. The guard went limp and his last breath rattled from his lips.
"Frank!" the other guard said, emerging into view from behind the shed. Smith threw his pocketknife at the man, driving the blade through his left eye socket. The guard was not quite dead yet, but before he could recover the last of his senses and scream, Smith had rushed to him, withdrawn the knife, and opened the man's throat from ear to ear. He, too, fell silently, dying with one last pathetic, blood-choked exhalation.
Smith took their pistols and their spare ammunition. On a whim, he also grabbed their ID cards. Time to get that camera, he thought. The PDA was a lost cause; fortunately, he had a spare back at his "base of operations." The data on the camera, though, would probably be useful.
Smith headed back along the service road toward the hotel. Along the way, he stopped to remove his jacket and pants, revealing the security uniform he'd been wearing underneath. He hid the outer clothes in a storm drain and continued on his way.

OOC: Hey, what about my stuff! It needs washed, I'm deploying the First Fleet soon, and that is where everythng came from!

Back in room 263, the papers slowly began to yellow and curl. The Void Admiral would be most displeased.

((It's a reaction caused when the nanites in sensitive documents are photographed. It allows plans to be changed when they've been discovered, you see.))

OOC: Interesting. But how do the nanites know? If they detect camera flash, would they still react if the photographer didn't use a flash?

((Well, would it make much sense to take a picture in a dim room without a flash? If that camera doesn't have a flash, we could always say they left the lights on, and I'll just delete the post. I just thought it could make it more interesting.))

OOC: I just felt that, since it was a spy camera and all, he probably wouldn't have used a flash. On the other hand, I don't know if even a spy camera could take images clear enough to show print in a dim room. Let's say it has a flash anyhow. Go ahead and destroy your documents. ;)

Our allies, the Zentraedi, need their Fulbtzs Berrentzs class Home Base (http://www.merzo.net/2000mpp.htm) washed, but to be honest I don't think they've got the cash for it.
Do you have a payment plan, perhaps?

OOC: AHEM! What about my ships?

OOC: Derscon, this is mostly for RPing...your ships have been washed, have a nice day.

Tam, I dont do spacedy rp. Sorry.

OOC: okay, I just never got conformation. Sorry.

Smith found the area in front of the hotel fairly empty. He walked over to the tree where he'd deposited the camera and found, to his relief, that it was still there. He knelt down and picked it up.
"Find something?" a voice said from behind him. Smith turned to see a Chellian security guard. Hell.
"Just some litter," Smith said. He turned to walk toward the facility's main gate.
"I'll take care of that for you," the guard said.
"That's fine," Smith said, "I'll do it."
"I haven't seen you before," the guard said. "How long you been working here?"
"Long enough, God knows. It's a big facility, though. Still some buildings I've never been in."
The guard looked at him a second, as if considering his story. Finally, he said, "Yeah. Have a nice night," and turned back toward the hotel.
"You too," Smith muttered as he walked away. He dropped the camera--and his switchblade--back into his pocket.

((Wonders where TWK got off to.))

Bump. If this thread dies, Smith goes home empty-handed. :(

((Yeah, go ahead and have Smith look over the pictures he took. I still need to think of what they'll be of... >.<))

Back at his temporary safehouse, Smith transferred the data from his digital camera into a laptop. Like his PDA--now replaced--the machine had a casing from a fairly common civilian model, but highly sophisticated and powerful internal components. It was also wired to destroy itself if used without authorization, but since he wouldn't be taking the laptop into the field, that wasn't so much of an issue.
Most of the documents were either mundane or irrelevant--normal logistical crap that any high-ranking official has to deal with. The very last one intrigued him, though--the guard schedule for the shuttles being washed. It appeared the shuttles were rather sparsely guarded--one pilot per ship--and that the guards switched off every two hours.
He could use that. Discarding one of the guards' pistols, Smith tucked a Fabrique National Five-seveN pistol into his pants. This weapon was specifically designed to penetrate body armor. Donning a dark gray trenchcoat, he headed back into the night with three hours until dawn.

Do you do Mobile Suits? We have a few in need of a good washdown. :)

OOC: This is great and original! Keep it up! :D

((Ooo, FN weapons. *claps* Well, I can't really do much 'til you show up at the shuttles, so carry on.))

Mooty's people seem to have disappeared, Smith thought. Can't say I miss them. In his dark trenchcoat, he fairly blended into the night.
Upon reaching the shuttlecraft again, he crouched in the shadows at the edge of the landing pad, waiting for the changing of the guard.

Smith's timing was impeccable, a few minutes after he arrived, the man there retreated back inside the resort as a woman came out and stood by the lead shuttle, arms crossed defensively against the night.

OOC: That's one of your primary characters, right? I wouldn't want to accidentally kill the wrong people.

((Nope, this is just one of the pilots. You can kill them if you want, but we get mad when our people die, so be careful. Then again, what we don't know won't hurt us...))

Smith was somewhat dismayed to find that the new guard was a woman. He didn't particularly like killing women--he found it distasteful. He endeavored to distract her instead.
Still in the shadows, he removed his trenchcoat. Underneath, he was still wearing the Chellian security uniform, though he'd laboriously scrubbed the blood out. He circled back around and approached the woman from the road (as it wouldn't be seemly to come walking up to her out from behind a maintenance building).
"Excuse me Ma'am," he said, "but an intruder was just found trying to break into the Master Void General's room. She's requested that all her forces return to the hotel for now. I'll be taking over here."
Smith had no idea whether she'd buy it or not--probably not, he was forced to concede. In that case, he would have to take alternate measures.

The pilot raised an eyebrow. "Are you kidding? I'm sure she would have sent someone more trustworthy, such as a fellow pilot. Oh well, let me check anyway."

She turned away and started talking quietly in Japanese to the off guard pilots.

Smith recognized the language as Japanese, but unfortunately was unable to understand it. With so many languages in the world--and many other worlds, one could only learn so many of them.
In any event, he had to ready himself for action. Fourteen ships meant fourteen pilots; fortunately, the Five-seveN carried twenty rounds. He also had that other pistol, a 9mm with eighteen rounds. He watched the female guard speak to the other one, his face betraying no emotion.

OOC: If this comes to combat, what kind of armor are your pilots wearing, if any, and is it visible (i.e., over their uniforms)?

((They are wearing no armor, though the tacsuits do have a small measure of protection against small shrapnel and the like. It would not stop a bullet of any measure, though.))

The woman turned back around. "Sorry, 'fraid your story doesn't check out, so I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

OOC: Sorry I took so long and my reply is so short. I've been in a bit of a funk. And not the Rick James kind either.

IC: "Of course they haven't heard," Smith said. "I'm the first one here." He stepped closer. "The other guards will be here soon. Listen, you can call Central Security and confirm what I've just told you if you like."