NationStates Jolt Archive


Sir, we have a problem.....

Automagfreek
25-07-2004, 01:52
The two guards inside were dead, and all that could be heard was the crackle of a keyboard. A small computer screen illuminated the dark room, and sitting in front of it was a man that appeared to be in his early 30's, possibly older, possibly younger. The light on the processor turned green, and the man removed the disk from the drive and placed it in his coat pocket. He removed the cover on tha hard drive and doused it in water, causing it to short out. With the disk in his possession, he had little left to do but make his escape. He stepped over the two corpses near the door and stepped out into the hallway. It was 3:47am, and the halls were barren. He made his way silently to the elevator, but decided to take the stairs. Before he even made his way down the staircase the sounds of heavy footsteps echoed up the stairwell. The SWAT team moved from level to level and cleared out every room, but all that was left was the floor our man was on, the 12th.

He immediatly did an about face and ran down the hallway, trying to muffle his breathing and footsteps as best he could. He decided that he would exit the way he came in, through the window at the end of the hall. The cable that was suspended to the roof of the building was still sitting idely outside the opened window, and he hastily climbed out and scurried upward. As he disappeared from the 12th floor, the SWAT team came running up the stairs, their assult rifles drawn and flashlights on. They cracked open each door and cleared the room within seconds, moving as fast as they could. But they too late, for our man was already ontop of the roof with the disk secure in his grasp. Knowing that the SWAT team was not far behind, he reeled up the cable and dumped it as his feet. He bolted to the other side and looked down, the wind calm and the streets below bare. He carefully climbed over the edge and dropped to the first balcony below. He landed with a slight thud, and as soon as his feet made contact he was already over the edge and onto the next balcony. Downward he decended, until there were no more balconies to drop from. He spotted a drain pipe off the the side that lead straight down, and he wasted no time in grabbing ahold of it. He slid down for some 60 feet and into a dark alley. Police cars were all around him, and there would be no escape above ground. He desperatly searched around for an exit, but the only thing that he found was a manhole.

***

1 hour, 24 minutes and 37 seconds later....

Sir, we have a problem.....Our team turned up nothing. Upon hearing such news, a middle aged, well dressed man threw his coffee cup across the room, his security clearance tag shaking on his coat as his temper exploded. Great...absolutly great. I can't believe this.... The name on his tag read Scott Kessler, Director of Covert Operations. The other man in the room was Roger Conte, a miscellaneous peon inside the department. I want satellite imagery from the time our team went in until the time our team left. I want every inch examined, and nothing overlooked. He said with his right hand on his forehead. Roger shifted in his steps ever so slightly, and unconfortable look upon his face. We have sir. He made it onto the roof then decended into an alley on the east side of the building. He went into the sewers and..... The program director rose from his seat and stormed across the room. Of all the inept people in this world, I get the King of Ineptia. Great. Did you do an analysis of the swer systems? Roger shook his head yes, but explained that there were too many possible exits, and there was no way for sure to know where he escaped to.

The director turned to Roger, the expression on his face grim. I want you to find Tony West, and I want his head on my desk. Do you understand me?

The nest day

I have the data. I'll leave it at the post pffice in box number 235 in 4 hours. Once you get the data, put the money in box number 128. Come alone. He then hung up the phone and got into his car. The disk was already in the box, because he was not stupid enough to take a trip there after notifying his contact. He would pick up the money in a few days, but for now it was time for him to relocate. His first score outside the agency was successful, but he had to do things by the books. Surely the agency would anticipate his next moves, because a series of highly classified files were now in the hands of the wrong people. But West did not care, because they made the mistake of screwing him over for the last time. And he would make sure it was the last time, even at the expense of the entire Automagfreek Intelligence Agency.
Canan
25-07-2004, 02:05
Bum bum baah (cheasy movie music) Tag
Truitt
25-07-2004, 02:14
TAG for interest
Tenarius
25-07-2004, 02:16
Creepy. O_o

Tag.
Ruthless Slaughter
25-07-2004, 02:25
I see YOU have a problem. WE are problem solvers. So what can WE do for YOU?
Automagfreek
25-07-2004, 02:31
I see YOU have a problem. WE are problem solvers. So what can WE do for YOU?


OOC: Kindly watch from the sidelines as I do some character development.
Scandavian States
25-07-2004, 02:47
[Ah, some Bourne-esque RP? How fun.]
Kahta
25-07-2004, 03:02
http://www.mheine.com/gifs/tag.gif

(tag)
Tyrandis
25-07-2004, 03:12
Tango Alpha Golf
Automagfreek
25-07-2004, 05:27
[Ah, some Bourne-esque RP? How fun.]

OOC: Yeah, I kind of want to create an international Bourne/Bond type character that goes from nation to nation causing trouble and all that. It'll also give me a chance to RP with some people that I have not RP'd with before.

IC:

The conference room at the AIA (Automagfreek Intelligence Agency) was packed full, it's large oak table surrounded by dozens of faces. Most notably were Director of Covert Operations, Scott Kessler, Director of Intelligence, Maria Fleming, and the Agency Director himself: Miles Nash.

The room was filled with tension, and the tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife. THe discussion was curt and to the point, and the focus on the discussion was none other than Mr. West. Alright, what are we going to do about this, hmm? The Agency director said with his hands folded neatly on the table top. Not a word was spoken for several seconds, the various directors and staff not knowing what to say. I'm not going to repeat myself... His lack of patience was showing, and he raised his voice to a rather high level. I said what are we going to do about this people? He pointed an angry finger at Mr. Kessler, and scolded him. This is your screw up, because without your decision to terminate his program and his job, now we have a vigilante madman on our hands. And then to top it all off, you send him on a suicide mission. And because you people are so freakin' INEPT, you didn't calculate the possibility that just maybe our little golden boy might make it out alive. Well guess what, he did......and now he's pissed. Ms. Fleming glanced around the room with a hint of panic and a touch of fear about her face. We cannot afford to have this loose end breaking into our facilities and stealing sensitive information. We can't have him going to the press, or worse, our adversaries. Just imagine the kind of reprocussion Automagfreek will suffer if West is allowed to live.

Mr. Nash raised an eyebrow. So you suggest we terminate him, eh? I think we tried that once already. But because you people..... Nash was cut off by the Director of Covert Operations, Mr. Kessler. It's not our fault. We laid the perfect trap for him, and we did so because we knew that West would not take the fact that; A) His job would be terminated, and B) That he would have to be under observation for the rest of his life because of the secrets he knows. I knew this was coming. YOU all knew this was coming. Terminating his program in favor of replacing him with units engineered from The Resi Corporation? Yeah, that went over real well....

Nash slammed his hand down on the table hard, his frustration now at the boiling point. Alright, I think we can all agree that this "situation" needs fixing. And that's what we're going to do...fix it. We go on the prowl for this guy day and night, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 52 weeks a year. And we do this until he is dead, because at this point he will not stop until he's 6 feet under. Track his movements, let's reel this guy in.



*****

Having won his first small victory over the AIA, Tony West decided that a change of scenery was much needed. He went into his motel room and opened his snake skin breifcase and fanned through his collection of passports, forged identification cards, hundreds of thousands of dollars in dozens of different currencies, maps, and lists of contacts. He was prepared to get satisfaction for the attempt on his life, and he would have it no matter how long it took. He glanced down at his watch, and the time read 1:15 pm. His flight woud leave in and hour, and he grabbed a passport issued to a "Michael Bradshaw", a wad of cash, and his lists and left the motel. Well Mr. Bradshaw, the journey begins.
Celdrone
25-07-2004, 05:55
OOC: Fleming? Could this be a very sublte Bond reference?
Automagfreek
25-07-2004, 06:49
OOC: Fleming? Could this be a very sublte Bond reference?

OOC: Actually, no. Just using names from some of my real life acquaintances. :)

Of course I'm mixing and matching the first and last names.
Ruthless Slaughter
25-07-2004, 20:34
Very well, as soon as you need special ops troops, let me know. Every hero needs a buch of clumsy spec ops people after him.