NationStates Jolt Archive

Anna raised an eyebrow. "Mister Strauss, you obviously don't know women well enough to know when they are pouting and when they are annoyed. For future reference I do not pout..."

Anna walked to the door and turned, "I already programmed my number into the phone. I will see you at six fourty sharp."

For those following Anna...

They got to enjoy the rest of the day in a bookshop on Bahnhoff Platz where the coffee cost eight euros or standing outside waiting for her to emerge until five thirty when she then picks up a taxi and returns to her hotel.

"Well, Pete, I guess that means that you get to come up with the list. I like Hopscotch and Angel Eyes for this one. How about you?"

"I'll see your two and raise you Firepower and Bubbles," the AI sent.

"Bubbles? Hadn't thought of her. Good choice. Her force fields were made for protection services! How about Slash and Blade?"

"If we can get 'em..."

"Maybe Wasp and Werewolf?"

"Maybe...but I'm not sure they could keep their tempers in check."

"Well...let's see what we can do about getting them into the fold. You know what to do, Pete."

In places scattered across the globe, oddly-shaped rings that a few certain people wore started to glow. This was a sign that the people's help may be needed--if they wished to give it.

In response to Foxfire's questioning look, Pete the AI explained. "These are all metas whom the boss has met. The ones we mentioned all have in common the fact that the boss counseled them not to join the guardians, for one reason or another. Good thing, too--many of them remain unregistered, and, since they were never in the organization, there's nothing illegal about that."

There was a moment of eerie silence.

"The Man has been busy," commented Foxfire, leaning back in his chair again. "These people...excuse me for saying so, but your words would make it seem as though at least two of them are loose cannons. Is this...wise? So many people for such an operation?" He raised his eyebrows. Foxfire had no quarrel with it, not really. He trusted TMM's judgement. But he needed to understand how things worked.

"Quite frankly," Pete replied, "I'll be surprised if any of them join up. They're candidates, not members; volunteers, not conscripts. You know that's how the boss works. He never forces people to do things against their will--except, of course, for 'forcing' criminals into jail. I've put out the call. It's up to them to call back, and to take the job, if they're interested.

"Pardon me a moment. I've got a phone call..."

Anna raised an eyebrow. "Mister Strauss, you obviously don't know women well enough to know when they are pouting and when they are annoyed. For future reference I do not pout..."

Anna walked to the door and turned, "I already programmed my number into the phone. I will see you at six fourty sharp."

For those following Anna...

They got to enjoy the rest of the day in a bookshop on Bahnhoff Platz where the coffee cost eight euros or standing outside waiting for her to emerge until five thirty when she then picks up a taxi and returns to her hotel.

He walked her to the door, and waited until his secretary met up with Anna to escort her. Returning to his desk, he examined the phone, looking for anything telltale that might be wrong with it, but nothing seemed readily apparant. With a sigh, he slipped it into a briefcase and began calling up files on the clients he'd be meeting. Each one would get safely tucked away into a folder, then locked into the briefcase. Glancing at his watch, he made a mental note to keep an eye on the time. Afterall, he had to pack still before the flight.

"Thank you, Hopscotch. How soon can you get here?" the Metal Man said into his cell phone.

"Och. Ah'm standin' roit behind ye, now! Ye never could see the what was in front of ye, now could ye?"

The woman who spoke appeared to be in her mid thirties. She had large, soft, green eyes, red hair and a body that would have turned the head of any man in the room had she not been wearing a trench coat over her regular clothing. She was about average height, and appeared to be in her early thirties.

The Metal Man smiled. "Come now," he said, "I don't exactly have eyes on the back of my head--right now."

"Aye, I'll give ye that," she replied with a smile as bright as his. "How've ye been?"

"Thought I couldn't do better," he replied, "then I saw your smile."

She looked down, embarrassed at the comment. "Charming as ever," she said. "If I didn't know ye better, I'd almost think ye were trying to hit on me."

The Metal Man chuckled. That was one piece of equipment that he did not posess.

"So," she continued, "where is this Mr. Strauss that needs protectin' so badly?"

"He's upstairs in his office, third floor, fourth room to the right of the lift. If I were you, I wouldn't--."

It was too late. She had already disappeared.

bump

Foxfire chuckled from the Brain Jar. "Aye, she is a pretty one. And who, exactly, is she? If she wouldn't mind you telling me."
Hotel Dining Room...
"My name is Dina, and I have come to discuss with you tonight several contracts my employers wish to make."
Kartosh nodded. "Go for it."
They were intterupted by a waiter. After making their orders, Kartosh's of steak, peas, mashed potatos and white wine, Dina's of fish of a name Kartosh could not identify with sauce and plain ice water, they settled down to business.
"Firstly," Dina spoke softly so as not to be overheard, "there is the entity known as the Cyber Matrix Corperation. My employers have some friction with this company, and wish it removed from the economy. I assume you know what it manufactures?"
Kartosh nodded again. "Weapons. Illegal, operating above the law, heavily into the black market, investing in artifical intelligence, robotics and low-yeild weapons of mass destruction, all for sale to the highest bidder."
"Correct. A multi-billion dollar industry. Funding terrorists and Third World Countries, mostly. It has factories and bases across the globe, along with a small private army of mercenaries to protect the companie's assets. There is a local factory base facility in Sacramento, Jackson California. Kash Wilson is there, and that is the main base of operations in the company. Your mission is simple: Inflitrate the facility, kill Kash Wilson, and sabotage the factory in such a way that the authorities will arrive and discover the illegal operation. This will cause a chain of busts of CMC factories and bases, shutting them down for good." Kartosh looked at her for a moment. "Price?"
"One million USD."

Kash sat in his office, a massive room with black marble floors and golden trinkets everywhere, he smoked a cuban cigar slowly, then breathing out, his life was easy...for now.

"She's called 'Hopscotch,'" the Metal Man replied, "and, as the name implies, she's Scotch-Irish. I ran into her before anybody else did, and gave her the training. I warned her off about joining the Guradians, though. By then, the Meta Discrimination Act was already out of committee. Her real name is Miffanwy Coghill, and you're probably not going to believe this, but she works making deliveries for a Pizza place. She's a jumper--able to form wormholes and instantly transfer herself from one location to another. Hasn't been late in over three years. Last I knew, she was single--but you'd better watch out. She's got an Irish Temper."

"Hate to interrupt your online dating service, boss," Pete chimed in, "but we've got another call."

"Good. Who is it this time?"

"The one who can tell if you're smiling."

"Oh. Put him on...hello, Angel Eyes."

"I was wondering when you were going to get around to buzzing me."

"Buzzing? What do I look like? A drug dealer?"

"Hah! It was even funnier the first time I saw you say it, too!"

The Metal Man chuckled. "We both know that didn't happen. I'm the one thing that you can't forsee."

"Then I guess I'd best let you tell me that this is a protection job and that a young lady will be by shortly to escort me to your presence all over again."

"What? And destroy a perfectly good causality paradox? No, not me."

"Ummm...you weren't supposed to say that."

The Metal Man smiled. "I know."

Kash grinned as his assistant came to him carrying a over-large briefcase and set it down " Is that what I think it is?" the man nodded and opend it, it contained a super charged hip mounted constant firing laser, called the " Lancer", Kash smiled as he wraped it around his waist, it was heavy, but powerful, two robots walked into the room, humming.

"One million USD."
Kartosh laughed out loud. "You'll have to do better then that. This is a heavily guarded facility, with attack robots and cameras and lasers and the whole deal. You surely don't think I will risk myself for a million dollars? That's pocket change."
Dina blinked. "Two and a half. Final offer."
"Alright. Now what's this other contract?"
Dina hesitated. "This is most irregular...but we wish to pay you not to kill someone."
Kartosh leaned forward. This was getting interesting. "Go on."
"There is a man who is of special interest to us. He has certain qualities which we are looking for, and it would be most inconvenient if he were to be killed. We have no definite picture or even an apperance profile, but we know one thing. His name is Foxfire Rose."
Kartosh nodded. "And you are paying me not to kill this man?"
"We are paying you to turn down all contracts involving his death. A sum of five hundred thousand USD."
Kartosh didn't say anything. Whoever these people are, they've got deep pockets. I've already collected nearly a million in killing that druglord and securing the locations and bank accounts, and here's another three million. Chirst, I could set myself up!
Aloud,
"Fine. Do you know anything about this guy?"
"Almost nothing. A few years ago he was associated with the Guardian called The Metal Man, but that trail's gone cold."
Kartosh felt his blood chill and his hairs rise up. The Metal Man? And Foxfire Rose? That could only be that guy he met in the alley! That's him. But why are they paying me not to assassinate him? Who could possibly care?
Standing, Kartosh stuck out his hand. In it was a check for the dinner. "Thank you for your business." He turned and walked away, Dina sputtering in her seat. Kartosh did not do face-to-face meetings. Especially over dinner. And now he had work to do. In his room he flipped open his cell phone and rummaged about in his work clothes, extacting a tattered peice of paper. Dialing the number, he left a message:
"Modifications for the Hi-Power. I am sending you a gun. I need an extended beavertail and removal of the magazine-detatch safty, as well as Novak night-sights."
After leaving the message he changed, showered, and changed again into his clothing (http://suicidal-psycho.deviantart.com/art/Fog-Stalker-13187819) for infiltrating the facility.

It took a while for Hopscotch to return, but, after she did, she wasted little time in bringing Angel Eyes into the lobby. He was a young man, in the prime of his life, with wavy blond hair and wrap-around sunglasses. That, and the cane he walked with--and tapped the floor with to help him echo locate--gave away the fact that he had no normal vision. The strange thing was that he had abnormal vision. When he used the lift to get to the third floor, he went directly to the next set of doors that were to open, even though there was no way that he should have known which of the three main lifts was going to come to him first. When he spoke with Hopscotch, he complemented her on the color of her hair. And, even though he had never set eyes on Will Strauss, by the time he returned, he could describe the man in complete detail...including...

"...and I'm not sure how much longer he has to live."

"He is going into a dangerous situation," the Metal Man said, "that's why he's hiring us--ostensibly."

"Oh, that's all a ruse," Angel Eyes said. "But there is a danger to him--it's just not what you think it is."

The Metal Man shook his head. "You wouldn't have anything more specific than that, now?" he asked.

"Not yet," he replied. "Sorry. Good thing you're going to be getting two more phone calls...like, right about now..."

"Ummmm, boss?" Pete asked.

"I know, I...know..."

Hmm...let's see...
Kartosh stared though the night vision scope on his sniper rifle. No windows were present in Kash's office. Damn. There goes that plan. The building was huge, a factory base, gray steel and high glass windows exposing shadowed lobbies. Kartosh had counted fifteen guards: Three on each side of the building, three of the roof. Armed with semiautomatic Heckler & Koch P7s, no automatic weapons or sniper rifles he could spot. Ten round magazines, light body armor, radios. Kartosh knew he could enter the building without killing any of them, or attacting any unwanted attention. Normally he would easily be able to gain access though a special visitors pass he could obtain and print, but at eleven 'oclock at night he doubted anyone was visiting the complex. Kash Wilson was in his office, maybe sleeping or catching up on some work. Kartosh broke from his cover, taking apart and stowing his rifle in a case for pick-up later. Armed with his Hi-Power, stun grenades and several knives, he stealthy made his way over a road and to the chainlink razor wire fence that marked the boundry between the world and the factory. Detecting no motion sensors or alarm systems, Kartosh scaled the fence, cut the wire, dragged the wire out and threw it to the ground, dropping over the gap to the other side. Easy as pie. Now he actually had to gain access to the building. Stealing across a almost deserted parking lot, aside from a few company cars, he flattened himself against the wall as he breathed steadly and contemplated his next move.

A large robot walked past him (think of kane off of robo cop), it had duel heavy machineguns on its arms and it grunted as it moved heavily.

Kartosh eyed the robot warily. He doubted he would be able to silence it without alerting others, and there was no telling what it could do, where it's weak points were, or if someone would come looking for it. For all he knew it could be programmed to attack anything that moved. Moving slowly and quietly, he edged along the wall until he felt a door behind him, locked by a keypad. Undaunted, he typed with his right hand, facing away from the door, still looking at the robot. He entered in Kash's birthdate. Nothing happened for a moment and then there was a soft click noise as the door unlocked automatically. Putting his thumb on the latch, he pressed down, backed away though the slit, and shut the door, locking it again. Inside was what appeared to be a factory assembly line. Even now it was running, producing what seemed to be more robots. Even as Kartosh watched a torso was screwed onto a pair of legs by machine arms, and run though several complicated and dangerous looking processes. It was dim, lit by a few hanging lights far overhead, and deserted, all workers and managers long having gone home for the day. Catwalks criss-crossed above him, all leading to an area at the back of the room. Still sticking to the shadows, Kartosh noted an observation platform high above at the other side of the assembly line. An office. Not Kash's, certainly, but probably the overseers office. If he could break into the office, he might be able to secure a map to Kash's office. Strididing across the factory floor, Kartosh reached the metal stairs and began to climb.

OOC: TG'ed Kulikova and he did not respond. Whatever the "big event" was that was supposed to bring the folks together ain't gonna happen without him--unless someone else wants to take up the mantel of driving this thread. I don't.

Two guards with m-16's were smoking cigs and watching the assembly line. Kash put on his new suit with his weapon, it enabled him to move faster, and made him twice as strong as normal human being. his suit was black with little blue lights everywhere that blinked, he hefted the weapon up and smiled " Oh daddy..." he said to himself.

Kartosh noted two guards he hadn't seen before, standing in front of the office, cigerattes pinpointing their positions with little orange lights. He couldn't sneak past them, they were directly in the only route to the office. So he had to take them out, quietly. The assembly line was quiet enough, but still provided noise. Not enough to cover the sound of a gunshot or scream, but maybe enough for his purposes. Reaching the top of the stairs, Kartosh crouched low and felt along his belt. Extacting two knives, he balanced them on his palm beside each other. Considering, he estimated the distance between himself and the guards. Ten feet, two throws and hits. He had to make sure they didn't cry out, fire, or fall off the catwalk. Any of those would make enough noise to have other guards running. He sheathed on knive and withdrew a silenced pistol. Unlike unsupressed weapons, the noise of the assembly line would cover the slight noise of the gun. Lining up the first guard's head in his sight, he fired. His forehead exploded, spraying blood as his body, now without half a head, keeled over. Before the corpse even hit the floor Kartosh had holstered his pistol and threw the knife. Making two rotations, it stuck in the other man's throat, cutting off the scream rising in him. He gurgled and fell backwards, smacking against the catwalk. Blood dripped though the holes and down into the assembly line. Kartosh moved forward and dragged the bodies to a dark corner, leaving streaks of blood. Kartosh knew that if any more guards came, they would note the absence of their friends and the blood. Taking some handy janitoral supplies nearby, he mopped up the gore and stowed the supplies back into their closet. The office was locked, of course, but Kartosh easily picked the lock and entered.