NationStates Jolt Archive

OOC: This is pretty much closed, since it's between me and Animarnia.

IC: Four men were traveling silently in a large black sedan.

The sedan pulled up quietly outside the house of Nathaniel Bucknal. They needed something from him.

The house was dark, emulating the sky around it.

The driver of the car, a man named Tom, looked at the rearview mirror. There was a man walking down the street. They'd have to wait a little longer.

Once the man was out of view, Tom opened his door and disembarked quickly, opening the trunk. The other three men got out after him, and grabbed a suitcase or duffel bag from the trunk.

Tom shut the truck. The four men, all dressed in black, moved quickly across the lawn, proceeding to the back of the house.

One of the men sat his duffel bag on the ground and quietly unzipped it, pulling out a tool.

He went up to a window of the house. This window was opened a crack. He silently pried off the screen and began slowly pushing the window open.

Suddenly a shrill sound issued from inside the house. They had triggered the alarm. The men rushed through the window and into the kitchen, where the man pried the panel of the security system off the wall and held the black and red wires together, shorting out the system. The sound stopped.

The phone began ringing. Tom pulled a tape recorder out of his pocket. Chances are it would be the security company.

"Hello?" Bucknal's recorded voice said.

"Mr. Bucknal, this is your security company. We're calling to make sure everything is alright, we had an alarm so up."

"No, everything is fine." Bucknal's voice said.

"A false alarm then?"

"Yes. Thank you."

"Have a nice night."

Click.

Tom put the recorder back in his pocket.

"Damn, that was close." he whispered.

Another man made a "shh" symbol with his fingers. He was holding a small device. It beeped softly when the man moved near a lamp. The man pulled off a small microphone. He crushed it with a pair of pliers.

"Something tells me that isn't a feature of the security company. But that's all the bugs I can find in here."

"Good, Kris. Sweep the rest of the house." Tom said. The man ran off to another room.

Tom made a motion, and the two other men dragged a table into position. They sat a chair behind it and placed the briefcases on the table.

Tom sat down in the chair. Kris came down the stairs holding a few more bugs that he had disabled.

"All clear?" Tom asked.

"As far as I can tell."

"Good. Positions."

Two men pulled out their pistols and ran to different areas of the rooms. Kris took up station near the front door. The other man ran out to the car and pulled it down the street and away from the house before returning and standing next to Tom.

Now they just had to wait for Bucknal to get home.

Natianial Bucknal was having what one might call; a bad day; escorted out of a high level briefing with the president for a voice of dissent; "they're all bastards" he mumbled as he walked the corridors of Central Dogma to the elevator. Soon he would put his own plans into motion…plans that would see great many changes around here. He smiled idly running a hand through his slivery hair; the elevator took several minutes to rise to the surface; being some 1500 meters plus below the surface and seven layers of fortified armour did that,

Soon he was in the exit; he got into his car and drove out passing the security check points his black Audi A6 turning through the streets past the large sky scraper apartment blocks; to the picturesque suburbs eventually pulling up outside his home and parked; disembarking from the vehicle without a care; without noticing the subtle foot prints in the dirt, without noticing the ajar window or the alarm off the hook; he slid the key into the lock and opened the door stepping into the dark home; "computer Lights on, Rosy Dinner" he said simply. The lights coming on and the automated cook-bot 'Rosy started to cook dinner on its own.

Kris stepped out from his hiding place and place his pistol on Bucknal's back. He pushed the man forward.

Tom looked Bucknal.

"Please, sit. We need to talk. Just business. We're not here to kill you, but to infuse you with some assets, if you catch my drift."

He waited to see what Bucknal would do.

Bucknal froze…the 9mm Baretta pushed coldly into his cheek reminding him he's just 4 inchs away from a copper head of death. The gun pushes into his jaw. The thought occurs to him that if said man with the gun pulls the trigger all that dental work I just had done will have been a total waste of money. And really…that makes him sad. Good work shouldn’t go to waste, no matter what the case. Especially if you’ve forked over enough money to buy a new car; his teeth were never that great to begin with, but now they look like the Mona Lisa.

The sound of a hammer being drawn back; the precursor to striking the primer of a bullet and finally separating his head from his body. he should be worried about my life, he should be worried that my rent is three months behind, he should be worried that he smokes two packs of cigarettes a day, he should be worried about that tumor that the radiologist found in his left lung. Malignant he calls it. He should be worried about bottle of vodka he down every night and the pain in his right side when he wakes up and his head feels ten sizes too big. But He's not. Right now the only thing going through his mind he can think about is all that elaborate bridge and capping work that will go to waste if the scum bucket to his left pulls the trigger. All those hours of reclining in that high backed chair that makes you feel like an astronaut pointed towards the bright light in the sky.

The gun pushes harder against his jaw, against all that beautiful dental work. Dr. Harker would be appalled if he saw what was happening. Appalled that his twenty hours of work has gone to waste and will soon be nothing more than wall decoration painted in red. He should be able to ID his body from all the work he’s done and the teeth that are left. Bucknal didn't carry a driver’s license that's bad in his business.

"I suppose these things happen" He thought for a moment before the gun spoke

"Please, sit. We need to talk; Just business. We're not here to kill you, but to infuse you with some assets, if you catch my drift." The gun said.

"Interesting" Bucknal replied quietly; "What did you have in mind?" he added cooly sitting into one of the Lazy Boy Leather Chairs next to a fish tank; the room was actually quite decorated with photo's and plagues; there were book shelfs; an entertainment center, a sofa and and a large plasma TV. the Walls were painted a pretty pastel Yellow colour with mounted paintings..

"We want you to get him," Tom said, pointing to the man next to him, "on board one of your heavy battleships. We'd like to obtain one."

Tom paused, sipping some water he had stolen from the fridge.

"We're fully prepared to pay $500 million."

He opened the briefcases, revealing the money.

"A heavy battleship…" Bucknal raised an eyebrow somewhat; Animarnian didn't currently have any heavy battleships; all its fleet ships were of Questerian design except for the new just CGNS starting to go into service. Though the navy did have two-apocalypse class in dry dock currently being built but they weren't going to be ready for some time.

"I'm afraid sir; that our heavy battleship is only half finished…if your willing to wait until construction is complete however..."

"A heavy battleship…" Bucknal raised an eyebrow somewhat; Animarnian didn't currently have any heavy battleships; all its fleet ships were of Questerian design except for the new just CGNS starting to go into service. Though the navy did have two-apocalypse class in dry dock currently being built but they weren't going to be ready for some time.

"I'm afraid sir; that our heavy battleship is only half finished…if your willing to wait until construction is complete however..."

"Whenever. We just need to obtain one soon. Our offer still stands."

Tom waved his hand over the money.

Bump.

Bump.