Fluffywuffy
16-03-2005, 02:13
Roger Clark was not an unusual man. At five foot, four inches, he was short, but his face was unremarkable, and he did not have the evil eyes of a terrorist. He wasn't dressed like the part either, wearing a business suit. In fact, most people took him as an international businessman. And that was true enough, because he actually did own a legimate business, Clark Trading Inc.; but that was a front, however, and this man had killed plenty of times.
It had started long ago, back when he was sixteen, and that was when the Confederacy fell and the Second Empire had risen from its ashes. He was one of a few protestors that got roudy enough to warrent a military police company. The only problem was that he and his fellow protestors had actually managed to kill ten of them before escaping. Soon he joined the WLM, learning the ways of the terrorist, covering his tracks as effectively as any secret agent. His skills were such that the Boss--no one really knew his name--had selected him to visit French Guiana, evidently a Communist Louisiana territory, and make contact.
He boarded a flight from Fluffywuffy and flew to ten other nations under an assumed name--differing each time--before reaching French Guiana. Four other WLM members had been with him on the last flight, and these four branched off and dispersed to procure safe houses--actually apartments--while Roger walked to a payphone and dialed the CL intelligence agency. He never revealed his name, only an assumed one. "This is Bobby Sullivan. I am of the WLM. If you are serious about your proposal, please call one of the following numbers," he listed the phone numbers to four cell phones, "You can contact the WLM from those four numbers. Those lines are secure, and hard to trace. If you have orders, report them through there. We will only request things via payphone, and never the same phone. Out."
It had started long ago, back when he was sixteen, and that was when the Confederacy fell and the Second Empire had risen from its ashes. He was one of a few protestors that got roudy enough to warrent a military police company. The only problem was that he and his fellow protestors had actually managed to kill ten of them before escaping. Soon he joined the WLM, learning the ways of the terrorist, covering his tracks as effectively as any secret agent. His skills were such that the Boss--no one really knew his name--had selected him to visit French Guiana, evidently a Communist Louisiana territory, and make contact.
He boarded a flight from Fluffywuffy and flew to ten other nations under an assumed name--differing each time--before reaching French Guiana. Four other WLM members had been with him on the last flight, and these four branched off and dispersed to procure safe houses--actually apartments--while Roger walked to a payphone and dialed the CL intelligence agency. He never revealed his name, only an assumed one. "This is Bobby Sullivan. I am of the WLM. If you are serious about your proposal, please call one of the following numbers," he listed the phone numbers to four cell phones, "You can contact the WLM from those four numbers. Those lines are secure, and hard to trace. If you have orders, report them through there. We will only request things via payphone, and never the same phone. Out."