RPG Peace Hangs Them [MVSL]

[liamc2]

[SIZE=1]Terribly sorry it's so late. I've been a reasonably [URL=http://www.supanews.com.au]busy[/URL] young lad. But I did fulfil my promise to have this started before uni, woo!

If you have any questions, please don't hesitate to ask. Go forth and frolic, and above all, enjoy the show.

~~~

[FONT=Trebuchet MS] Larce marched down the corridor with the confident stride of a man in a business suit. It was tailored to give him a comfortable fit, while still giving him enough space to hide the side arm locked in its holster underneath his left arm. The suit was simple and black in design, a simple clone of the thousands worn by stereotypical government agents all over the country. It came with the job, along with the side arm, earpiece and ?V.I.P? pass fastened to his breast pocket.

He had been training with the C.I.A for eighteen months now. His twenty-fifth birthday was spent on good behaviour leave in a Wendy?s just before it closed for the night. It was a joyous event spent with three of his best close and personal handlers. Four grown men sitting around a laughably small table, all in business suits, three of which who watched in stony silence as one tried to casually eat a banana split.

Despite himself, Larce had actually enjoyed his birthday. It was small, quiet, and he actually spent it with other people. It would have been a golden memory if his entourage weren?t being paid to tag and bag him if he attempted to escape. It didn?t help either that they were under strict orders to not communicate with him beyond simple instructions.

That was a year ago now. Since then he had ?graduated? from their basic training and earned their trust, of sorts. He had a brief stint of field training and then he was fast-tracked to become an agent-handler. Throughout the entire experience he drew on his own thief-like abilities and deliberately exceeded what was required of him. In all fields he excelled and impressed those training him. He had been asked several times why he hadn?t pursued a career in the armed services, but that question had been answered when he was given basic weapons training.

Larce loathed any weapon that was given to him. He could hit the paper targets, but he winced at every pull of the trigger, blinking with every shot. He downright refused to take part in any further training, but further blackmail persuaded him otherwise. After sufficient prodding he became quite efficient with the submachine guns that were so associated with tactical squads around the world. He was commended on his abilities with the lightweight full-sized G36k, a submachine gun that was designed in the 90?s with the German Bundeswehr in mind.

He loathed every minute of his accolades, personally vowing to never use one in the field. It sickened him to receive a licence from the government that detailed his right and duty to carry a concealed side arm at all times.

After his inauguration he was presented with the ultra-light weight polymer Glock pistol, which had remained locked in a draw since he received it. Since being given this assignment, he carried it in his slim Samsonite briefcase to just keep up with protocol.

The sidearm he carried now in his holster was the highly stylised ?Citizen Taser X26C.? It was capable of taking out an antagonist from 10 feet, and that suited Larce just fine. He wasn?t intending to be in an open field any time soon. The weapon reassured him, alleviating his own fear of taking another person?s life.

[i] ?That could destroy me.?[/i] He thought, as he swiped his pass and entered an elevator. [i]?I?ll steal and pillage for them, but I?ll never kill on their behalf.?[/i]

?Afternoon Agent ?Larce?.?

Larce rolled his eyes behind his dark aviators. He could even hear the quotation marks clang into place. He nodded stiffly and removed his glasses, hooking them in his breast pocket.

?Agent Reilly.? Larce forced a smile. ?I wasn?t informed you would be attending this briefing.?

The man known as Reilly smiled and tapped his earpiece before speaking. ?Oh I won?t be, ?Larce,? at least not officially. Uncle Sam has extended your leash, you have free roam for as far as you stretch under our rules. You may be a handler now, but you are still under my jurisdiction.?

?Sir.? Larce gave a swift salute, staring hard above and beyond Reilly?s shoulder.

?Very good, thief. Now you run along and play nice with your team. We expect results, and you understand the terms of engagement. Do not disappoint us. That is all.?

Agent Reilly bent slightly and picked up his own briefcase before entering the elevator that Larce had just exited. Larce waited for a full ten seconds after the doors closing before he continued walking, counting the steps under his breath.

[i]?I have a stealth man,? [/i]he thought as he walked closer to the conference room, [i]?he?ll be very useful. The sniper though, she?ll be superfluous. I?ll have to use her for communications knowledge, as simple as that may be. The heavy weapons and demolitions woman would be excellent for breaching?what I would give to have her by my side three years ago. We could have cleaned up.?[/i]

Larce paused at the door, swiping his card again and nodding at the man on the door.

[i]?Who else is there? Ah yes. The medic. I?ll have to pair him up with the sniper. Completely useless for this task. They?ll be carrying the equipment for the other two.?[/i]

The door hissed open, sliding into a recess in the wall. As he stepped over the threshold, he felt every eye in the room on him. Despite their business attire, Larce could pick all of them for who they were. Professional soldiers, killers. People who looked obviously uncomfortable outside of fatigues.

From the expressions on their faces, it was pretty obvious what their opinion of intelligence officers were.

[i] ?Go right ahead, Larce.?[/i] A voice crackled in his earpiece. [i]?Start impressing your team. As far as they know, you?re some pencil pusher that?s had this job for years. First impressions count. They?ll already hate your guts because of the bad intel we received on the current Sudan/Egypt mess. Not to mention various other unknown conflicts we screwed up in the past over in Europe.?[/i]

Larce remained carefully deadpan, with his jaw set straight. The voice in his ear was one Agent Langford, the only other C.I.A agent besides Reilly to know his true heritage. He and Reilly had taken very different approaches to their assignment and as such Larce hated Reilly with a passion of a thousand suns, but had a mutual respect relationship with Langford. He particularly enjoyed Langford?s complete disregard for political correctness, something Reilly couldn?t live without.

?Good afternoon.? Larce said as he placed his briefcase delicately on the table. ?I am Agent Larce, and I have been assigned to you as your C.I.A handler. As such, I will be your direct link to the chain of command during this mission.?

There was silence in the room. It was a careful measured, and above all, expectant silence.

Larce?s features didn?t change. ?I understand you were expecting a new military CO to lead your team, I believe you recommended one?Captain Levack for the position??

[i] ?Don?t go there Larce. The grunts hate it when intel act as though they have something over them,?[/i] Langford muttered carefully over the microphone, warning rising in his voice.

Larce maintained his level tone and pulled out several files from his briefcase, ?unfortunately Captain Levack is otherwise detained elsewhere. He would have been a fitting military replacement for your previous CO, but the heads of 3R have decided that the team requires a distinctly less military approach. As such, I have been transferred and given the position as your new squad leader and C.I.A handler. You will all be reporting directly to me, and I will be reporting directly to these United States.?

Several faces around the table hardened, in particular the medic ?Fleisch? and the saboteur ?Boom.? ?Lynch? merely looked unimpressed, while ?Bon Bon? ?how young is she? What is she doing here?- looked utterly bewildered.

Still not giving away any emotion, Larce slid four folders out across the table, one to each team member. He then closed the briefcase with a distinct snap and turned on the plasma screen that lay face up in the table.

?Our mission is quite simple. As I understand you have been the first on scene for each disaster or minor altercation that has come up in the past year. Each of your files comes brimming with recommendations and otherwise. Because of your abilities, you have been penned for a new job. A very dangerous, and very deep black, job.

?Essentially, Uncle Sam has decided that we are losing too much ground by waiting for the terrorists to act. We need to fight them on their own turf. We are to become very, very proactive about this.

?Recent investigations have informed us that, while countries will allow a 3R team in our military and naval bases, we may not be the first informed of an attack being prepared against our people. Going through legal channels can easily raise red flags terrorist sympathetic groups, and can allow big fish to escape through the net. This way we can operate outside of the public eye, and thus avoid any confrontations with the U.N. and our loyal friendly nations.

?You can think of our mission to be a major pre-emptive strike on any and all forces that combine against our way of life. Welcome to operation Silent Fox.?

[i] ?I still think that?s a stupid name,though it does beat ?Enduring Freedom??[/i] Langford muttered to Reilly, before speaking over the microphone to Larce [i] ? Well done Larce, next time try it without the subtle sarcasm.?[/i]
[/FONT][/SIZE]

[Lady Asphyxia]

[font=Verdana][size=1]There was one thing to be said about this so called 'Larce'; Bon Bon didn't like him. Partly it was to do with the fact that he was not their first choice. Captain Levack had been a joint recommendation -- the team had worked with him before and he was both a good man and a good leader. Bon bon in particular had worked with him several times -- it was through The Joker and his' input that she'd gotten her call sign. That the higher ups had ignored their recommendation disturbed her a little; that this 'Larce' knew about it disturbed her more; that he didn't seem to care made her suspicious of him.[/size][/font]
[font=Verdana][size=1][/size][/font]
[font=Verdana][size=1]But, too, there was the fact that he described himself as 'less military'. A civilian could never know what it was like to shoot a gun at the enemy, to know that life and death was in your hands -- to know the adrenaline of the shot. They wouldn't know the skills required or the training snipers went through to get there. And because of that, he would never be able to understand her fully. [/size][/font]
[font=Verdana][size=1][/size][/font]
[font=Verdana][size=1]And so immediately a distance was formed. [/size][/font]
[font=Verdana][size=1][/size][/font]
[font=Verdana][size=1]She looked around at her other teammates. Boom was sitting very, very still, her face closed and icy. Bon bon could tell that she was antsy -- the heads ignoring their recommendation would have thrown her. Boom's main safety blanket in life was control. Lynch was his usual self. Fleish -- Fleish would immediately know her concerns. He'd probably already figured them out himself. An veteran in the game, he knew how hard it would be if this...[i]pen pusher [/i]was going to take them.[/size][/font]
[font=Verdana][size=1][/size][/font]
[font=Verdana][size=1]The silence had gone on for distinctly longer than comfortable. Bon bon didn't break it. Instead, she looked at the mission brief, scanning it quickly, then paused. [/size][/font]

[font=Verdana][size=1]Why was her part so minimal?[/size][/font]
[font=Verdana][size=1][/size][/font]
[font=Verdana][size=1]The answer was obvious. Fucking desk-ies, always underestimating the need for firearm. They thought that talking could even things out, that peace and love were the name of the game... [/size][/font]
[font=Verdana][size=1][/size][/font]
[font=Verdana][size=1]Peace and love were for politician's speeches. In the real world, it was something different. [/size][/font]
[font=Verdana][size=1][/size][/font]
[font=Verdana][size=1]Anger now hardening her face, she looked up at 'Larce'. Would she be doing [i]anything[/i] on this mission?[/size][/font]
[font=Verdana][size=1][/size][/font]
[font=Verdana][size=1]Somewhere in the rational part of her mind, she was vaugely surprised at his age, but she immediately wrote that off as being irrelevant. So he was a little older -- he was obviously naive. How did he become a handler, being so young, anyway? She was a rarity, true, but she had a long history and good reasons for being here.[/size][/font]
[font=Verdana][size=1][/size][/font]
[font=Verdana][size=1]Him? He was green. Young -- probably about two or three years older than her, tops. And inexperienced. A pen pusher. [/size][/font]
[font=Verdana][size=1][/size][/font]
[font=Verdana][size=1]How had a pen pusher who was barely older than her become a case handler? [/size][/font]
[font=Verdana][size=1][/size][/font]
[font=Verdana][size=1]All of a sudden Bon bon deeply wished to be back in her fatigues. At twenty three, she had spent more of her life in cargoes than out of them and wearing civilian clothes -- even jeans and a shirt -- made her uncomfortable. She needed the feeling of familiarty that came with her uniform, especially when there were so many unanswered questions about this new mission. [/size][/font]
[font=Verdana][size=1][/size][/font]
[font=Verdana][size=1]She waited for this 'Larce' to speak. She wondered if he'd read a book on teamwork and would try to hold a teambuilding session. She probably laugh herself silly if he did. [/size][/font]
[font=Verdana][size=1][/size][/font]
[font=Verdana][size=1]Whatever he did, however, one thing was for sure. [/size][/font]
[font=Verdana][size=1][/size][/font]
[font=Verdana][size=1]She didn't like him, and she didn't trust him.[/size][/font]

[JJ]

[Font=Arial]This had to be a joke. There was no way, no way that headquarters were such big assholes. Not only were they shoving some little time card punching prick into a very important position, they were shoving a young time card punching prick on them. Boom had already begun forming ideas about him just by his entrance.

One thing that really rubbed Boom the wrong way was his tone. It was as if he was trying to sound like he was making this all up, although Boom noticed right away that he had a line and someone was telling him what to say. That didn?t impress Boom one bit and it just gave off the impression that he had no idea what he was really dealing with.

She had stopped listening to him after ?Larce? made the comment about Levack and now tuned in as he finished. She was not sure if she would be able to ask questions or anything of the like, so she raised her hand, out of humor more than anything.

?Yeah, I want to know how long you?ve been sitting behind a desk. Two, maybe three months? And, are you going to be doing anything at all on this new operation? You look like you?d see blood and go weak kneed.? Boom asked, a smile creeping upon her face.

?Well, seeing as how you have the mission assignments in front of you, I figure you could answer that question yourself.? Larce replied coldly.

?Just making sure.? Boom called back.

Boom opened the folder and started shuffling through the papers. The first assignment she saw was Bon Bon?s. The sniper was?doing absolutely nothing. That was odd and a bit disturbing for something like this, because in all honesty, who could not use a bit of cover? Boom was about to question things, but she looked at Bon Bon and decided not to.

Her assignment was next and Boom smiled. At least she would be taking her new shipment of Tritonal 8-/20?s out for a spin. The shipment that Boom had been waiting for had finally come in, so she had already made about 5 or 6 of those babies. They were tight and in some ways too tight. The explosion radius was nice but too big in some cases.

Then again, in all fairness, she had already tested them?

Boom decided to not think about that and shut her folder. She looked at Bon Bon who had a look of split confusion and anger. Boom thought about saying something or getting up, but she did not, because it probably would have made the situation worse anyway. Boom smiled in her direction when she looked and hoped it showed some sign of support.

Boom also began to think about what guns they were going to need. The standard side arms for everyone, possibly something extra for Lynch and herself would be needed. The Tritonals of course and a couple of flash grenades for everyone.

The plans seemed to be unendless as Boom grabbed a sheet of paper out of her folder and began to start a list. A bad habit of hers was forgetting things and this was something that she did not need to forget.

After about two or three minutes, Boom put her pen down and looked up at ?Larce? again. He was still standing there, briefcase sitting on the table. Boom wondered if it would kill him to sit down. Probably not protocol, but the hate he was going to get from everyone, it really did not matter. Respect was going to be something Larce would earn and it was not going to come easily.

Boom hoped he realized that. She herself had already decided to plant a little something in Larce?s room just in case he decided to do something everyone really did not like. Surprises were always nice, no?[/font]

OOC: It starts! Finally! :p

[The Harlequin]

[font=gothic][color=darkslategray]OOC:To make up for the lateness, I'm turning the brightness on my monitor up so it seems, to me at least, extra shiny. I recommend you all do the same.

Larce was a dabbler. It might not have been immediately apparent what exactly he dabbled in, but it was obvious, to Lynch at least, right from the outset that he'd strayed over the line of the law. Anybody who's first reaction upon walking into the room was to look for potential exit strategies, and who payed as much attention to people's hands as their eyes, was obviously used to being hunted. And he wasn't a ghost. They were too easy to spot. Flawless acting skills are all well and good, but they do tend to stand out where they shouldn't, if you know what you're looking for. Larce didn't have the complete control to have been transfered from intelligence. Equally obvious was the fact that he wasn't part of Lynch's ...rarified profession. The simple fact that there was a reaction, even if it was only a slight dilation of the pupils, to the mention of violence implied a level of discomfort that simply didn't appear in a trained asassin, sanctioned or otherwise. Of course, it was possible he was a sadist, but tracking the pulse in his neck hadn't revealed any elevation, so that was unlikely. Lynch decided this one was definitely the avoidance type. Computer crime or blue collar fraud was a possibility, but those types were rarely practiced enough at running, and they normally didn't end up in situations like this.

Of course, it took some considered thought to work out another instance when criminals had ended up in a situation like this. Lynch didn't include himself in that. But he was sure it had happened nevertheless.

Eventually, the kicker came from Larce himself. As he leaned over to elaborate on some likely irrelevant point or another to Bon Bon, who didn't seem overly thrilled with her rather less than substantial role, Larce instinctively used Bon Bon's raised arms to mask his own hands. A visual block that was really rather smooth, innocuous if you didn't know what you were looking for, but a dead give away if you did. "Larce" (and Lynch thought the call sign should have told him from the first) was one of those people born with an insatiable curiousity about what other people have in their pockets.

Lynch wasn't particularly bothered by the fact that Larce was some kind of thief. An assassin with moral scruples was kind of a joke. There were things that were right and wrong to other people, Lynch was sure, but really, something was either a good idea or a bad idea. It was ramifications that counted, not some higher minded intention. Meaning that if Larce was willing to make this work, he wouldn't bother Lynch too much. Of course, should he feel a light tug on his pocket, or find that his room's inventory tended to show a slight fluctuation, he might have to take steps, but that was a game left for another day.

At the moment, Lynch had two concerns. Firstly, and the most important, to his mind at least, was whether or not to share his information with the rest of the team. Chances are they might well work it out for themselves. He was interested to see how long it would take them. On the other hand, telling them would give him an opportunity to see an unadultered reaction. It would probably unsettle Larce too. Which could make things interesting, and possibly even lead to his disappearance. This isn't to say Lynch was at all disloyal to the rest of the squad. It was simply that he dismissed a lot of things as ultimately unimportant. To date, he knew, no one else had managed to figure out the standard that he used to determine that, but that didn't bother him. For now, he'd keep silent, he decided. It would hardly be fair to off balance the team and Larce even more with his revelations, and Lynch was honestly curious as to how well Larce would do.

The second, and far less important concern, was the mission. Though it was obvious everyone else was less than impressed by the arrangement, Lynch wasn't too bothered. Having a sniper as backup had always been simply because they worked well together, not because he thought he needed the cover. If it was enough of an issue that he couldn't skulk into a place, chances are the situation would call for Boom's specialised talents more than Bon Bon's anyway. The way things normally worked in such operations, Lynch's initial, silent assult (normally with knives, Lynch preferred them to guns) lead to people running away, right into Bon Bon's sights. If he had to kill those people himself, so be it. Assuming there was any killing to actually do.

Lynch suspected that the briefing Larce had received took a different slant to the one he delivered. Chances were, the original one had involved a lot more concentration. Larce seemed to be trying to pass things off as an intelligence gathering operation, with a little bit of a flash-bang as a distraction. Lynch didn't really have a problem with guns or explosives, and they certainly were useful on occasion, he just felt they lacked a personal touch. He might have been slightly biased in that regard though. He figured it quite possible Larce would agree there. The man had obviously been trained with weapons, or else he wouldn't be here, but Lynch wasn't sure whether the aversion to violence was universal, or just a problem with guns. It probably didn't matter, given just how indirect they were expected to be. Walking softly and carrying a sharp knife seemed to be the marching orders, gor now at least.

This "Operation Silent Fox" suggested a more long term approach to things however. Which meant Larce might be forced to change tact sometime soon. Which could be interesting to watch. A few seconds deliberation on the "operation", and he silently counted it a good thing he wasn't interested in bragging to people. It would be terribly hard to be proud of being a part of something with such a terrible name.[/font][/color]

[liamc2]

[SIZE=1][FONT=Trebuchet MS]
OOC: Terribly sorry. I've been working altogether too much. I've been in front of this computer for 4 hours doing various rubbishy things for uni [Exams in two weeks! OH NOES!] and decided I'd at least achieve half of my goal and finish the rest of my PHT post. It hurts my eyes to look away from the bright, bright LCD screen...x.X;

I apologise if there are any errors or omissions in this post. I've been rather scatterbrained.

~~

Inside his head, Larce was simultaneously cursing and congratulating himself. It was a personal habit, a vice that had always stuck around since he initially invested in it all those years ago. Pick pocketing had never been a source of income for him, but it just fascinated him how far he could go into someone?s personal space without them ever knowing. Half the fun of emptying someone?s pockets was putting it all back without them ever noticing, ever realising the violation of personal space.

In a tense situation he always seemed to kick into the habit as though he were testing his abilities. How far could he go before the body tensed or shivered under the pressure? Was he in control enough to discover what personal items had been carried and kept?

He was still in control. Bon Bon had an identification card, a nail file, and bizarrely, an empty bullet shell. The potential for metal on metal scraping was high, but he?d had enough time to ascertain and categorise before his cover disappeared. The whole experience gave him a little boost, an adrenaline rush, to keep him going.

He straightened up, satisfied that Bon Bon?s thoughts were so far off on a tangent that they deserved to be answered with, ?you?ll see when I?ve gone over the itinerary.?

Bon Bon gave him a queer look, as thought she were so defensive that she thought he was making a pass at her. Larce didn?t care to correct her, he?d let her stew. Besides, she could just as easily be frustrated that he wasn?t giving her enough attention. In his mind he pegged her as a girl that required all too much attention. She?d obviously been babied in this group; her given call sign was now an obvious clue. He was almost certain now that he was to fear retribution over his slighting of her.

[i]?Lynch knows you?ve got a wire, Larce. He?s looking right through you too. I?d say it?s safe to assume that he?s figured you out.?[/i]

Years of experience at being caught or challenged prevented Larce from stiffening up and glancing across at Lynch, even inadvertently. Still, a jolt of panic squeezed his gut hard, and he felt the weight of Lynch?s gaze. He wasn?t surprised that Lynch hadn?t called him on it straight away, psychological assessments had pegged him as one who liked to hold all of the cards.

It didn?t mean Larce enjoyed the idea of his key ace slipping from his hand, however.

?You?ve all perused the brief, I?m assuming. Some of you have issues with it, but I?m afraid you will have to bear with it until further notice. These are our orders and these are the parameters we have to work with.?

[i] ?Must you goad them? Must you??[/i]

?You were all instructed to arrive fully kitted up at this base, I will not accept any excuses for missing equipment. Specialist gear-? he looked meaningfully at Boom, ?-will arrive if it has been correctly requested. Boom, I understand your heavy explosives have arrived intact, and will be supplied to you in the field.

?I cannot stress enough to you that in this urban situation we cannot risk over exposure. The Tritonal charge is called for in significant situations, and will always be filed under plan B in my book. The risk for civilian casualties is too great.?

Larce didn?t dare look at Boom, but continued along before there could be an interruption.

?We have received indication from our sources that a high member of the National Liberation Army is currently on a business trip here in Germany, discussing purchase of a major shipment of arms from manufacturers in the country.

?Normally this is of no consequence to us, they are conventional arms. The ELN hasn?t made any active campaigns against the U.S. since the late 90?s, when they focused on kidnapping various U.S. citizens. The matter was resolved to our satisfaction and they were long ago dropped as a threat to this country.?

The lights dimmed as Larce switched on the projector, showing various photos of a man under numerous guises.

?This is our man. A new recruit to the ELN, but he has already been at work expanding the ranks and region of influence of the ELN. We understand that he recently was placed in charge of the entire organisation, shipped directly from Cuba herself, a warning sign that Castro has renewed his efforts in making Colombia another Marxist state. Ominously the previous leader, Felipe Torres, has vanished from the picture.

?One could say that it was unwise of the Colombian government for releasing him in the first place, but even our concerted efforts have revealed nothing.?

[i] Lies, lies, lies. Torres was the initial whistle blower when a CIA mission snagged him on an information mission. Torres was being hunted by his own men, orders from the new head man. Torres granted protection in exchange for all he knew, which turned out to not be much at all.[/i]

?So what?s this Marxist?s name, then?? Bon Bon asked, looking carefully at the photo.

?Isidro Amistad. Age unknown, but he has been described as being in his late twenties or early thirties. There aren?t any records of him, anywhere.?

[i] That was true. But if you apparently drop from the sky, your records generally don?t drop with you.[/i]

?The ELN?s main operational area is in the rural and mountainous areas of north, northeast, and southwest Colombia and Venezuela border regions. Their influence is growing and intelligence has finally confirmed whispered allegations that the group has sanctuary and safe harbour in Venezuela itself. The group?s ranks have swelled from 3000-6000 to a definite 8000 and climbing. We?re going to have a war on our hands that has every potential of swelling up after us, especially if Amistad comes from Castro himself.

?Our objective is to find Amistad?s source of income and find out exactly what he?s up to in Germany. There?s nothing but endless chatter in the weapon?s pipeline, he could also be after anything from Anthrax to a thermonuclear backpack, and we need something concrete if we?re to move against this potential threat.

?In your mission briefs you will find floor plans and schematics of the hotel that Isidro is staying at in downtown Berlin. We need to go in and snatch his computer and his files and, if possible, him as well. Lynch and Boom will be going in the main entrance for the computer and anything else of importance, while I?ll enter from the back for the man himself.

?Fleisch and Bon Bon will be on point in a blacked out Beamer Z3, monitoring communications and our shoulder camera feeds. If anything is up, they will have to make the call for plan B. It?ll be big, it will be messy, and it will be a last resort.?

Larce flicked another slide over, showing a list of arms and equipment.

?This is a full kit mission; we are expecting the possibility of heavy resistance and automatic arms. Full body armour, standard ammunition with a folding stock G386k submachine gun main arm, with an optional Glock 7 pistol side arm. Boom will have her specialist equipment, but we have been all rated and approved for C2 plastic explosive door busters and flashbangs.

?Bon Bon, your Barrett ?Light 50? rifle will be in the vehicle. Owing to our situation and your role here, it will not be necessary. However, it pays to be cautious. There may be hitherto unseen circumstances that may arise, and we will be on our own until we reach extraction.?

[i] Liar. You just want to see what she?ll do with her weapon in such close proximity. You?re just itching to see how long it will take her to ignore standing orders and use it.[/i]

Larce pulled out four jet black PDA devices from his briefcase and slid them out one to each member. Each caught it in turn, without taking their eyes off him.

?Finally, we have a new set of communications devices fresh from the manufacturers. They have been especially coded from the ground up on a new OS, in a totally new programming language. The designers behind it claim it to be a near Eternity Code, they estimate we have a maximum five years before it becomes obsolete, even less if one of these is lost to enemy hands. Do not lose it.

?You will find that, once it is set, this machine will respond only to your unique thumbprint or voice. We have a dedicated satellite in synchronised orbit, just to keep these running. The GPS locating system will not only tell you where you are, but also tell you where your team members are. The satellite has a degree of thermal manipulation and, as such, will be able to indicate warm bodies present in an approximate radius.

?The system is still being tweaked and should by no means be declared reliable by itself, but it can give a fair indication of what you?re up against when combined with the high frequency sonar system built into the system itself. In effect, you will have a map of the area flagging members of your team, as well as possible threats.?

A few eyebrows went up. He sincerely doubted that any of them understood the technobabble, but the idea of a portable motion detector seemed to be pertinent. The system for detecting possible hostile combatants wasn?t foolproof, but it was accurate to within half a metre for positioning of the rest of the team.

?Your helmet headsets and camera feeds will be routed directly through this device, and all communication will be fed through its secure channel. If necessary, it can act as a cell phone, internet browser, and storage device.?

Larce was deeply impressed with the device. There were a few other nifty features that had been approved and added on his recommendation, most of which revolved around sophisticated electric lock hacking and security system disabling. The PDA itself was even equipped with a remote or central EMP detonation device, in case it should fall into the wrong hands.

?All tactical equipment will be loaded in the vehicle by 0200 hours; we will be leaving at 0210. You have twelve hours to spend on sleep cycle and equipment management. I will be in the officer?s quarters, one floor above yours. If you have any grievances with the mission, I advise you to make a solid case before you harass me. I am your officer, and I will pull rank on insubordination.?

There was a hiss of static in Larce?s ear, an indication that even the usually flippant Langford was lost for words. Larce could feel his black heart frost over, his mind already comfortable in establishing himself as a stereotypical, arrogant, intelligence officer.

Larce closed his briefcase with a snap.

?Dismissed.?
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[The Harlequin]

[font=gothic][color=darkslategray]OOC: Post much?

Well, that had done a rather neat job of tearing it. In one of his more typical displays, Lynch was the first out of the room, walking quickly and muttering to himself about something in a thick enough dialect it was likely nigh incomprehensible. Which was probably a good thing, given that his disconnected ramblings included one or two personal comments that were likely best not to air. The noise was such a familiar background entity that he had no trouble tracking the footsteps that followed after his. Larce was quiet on his feet, impressively so, but he didn't quite seem to have the knack of lift his foot without a breaking a slight suction on the hard floors. Lynch picked up his pace slightly, turning off a side corridor rather than head straight back to his quarters. A slightly muffled exchange behind him revealed that while Larce may have been slightly surprised by this, everyone else was unconcerned.

He had something of a dilemma on his hands, and he needed some privacy to think it over. He could work out from the outset that Larce's entire approach was slightly forced, and simply wouldn't work well with the team. If he wasn't acting naturally, the strain would eventually shift to resentment, and there wasn't that much that was worse than a superior who wasn't fond of you, and was perfectly capable of ordering you to walk into a building full of angry, weapon bearing people with few compunctions about summary knee cappings...Well, there were a few things, now that he thought about it, like that hooker in New Orleans after it turned out the mission-based credit card you'd been given had expired...but that was neither here nor there. On top of Larce's personal issues with the situation, there was also the fact that being treated in such a cavalier fashion was going to rub several people raw. Lynch was quite willing to watch the byplay that would no doubt ensue, and he was fairly confident that failing some rather major complications, he'd come out of it rather unscathed, but he was quite happy with the general status quo that existed in his life, and he figured anything that had the potential to result in the widescale destruction of several parts of a major city had a fair chance of disrupting that.

To varying extents, the team were strong minded, pragmatic, independent operators. They followed the chain of command, but in the field, they were all experienced enough to know that sometimes the mission simply went to hell, and the only way to salvage it was to snatch opportunity as it came. If anything happened to jeopardise the original parameters this time around, Lynch was fairly certain everybody would blame Larce for his approach, and they'd all start taking matters into their own hands. Which would likely end up with himself, Boom and Larce wandering right into a very hostile situation, and have Bon Bon getting an itchy trigger finger. The upshot being that a lot of people would get killed, and it would likely be very public, and very messy. Lynch might have thought that "Operation Silent Fox" was a dodgy idea, but things were precarious enough as it was without a major fiasco right at the outset.

Breaking out of and into one's own building was occasionally challenging, but that was okay. A minute or two, an air duct, and some scaling later, he was quite comfortable perched on a rather narrow window sill a floor up from where he should be, calmly scribing a note entailing exactly why that approach was a bad idea, with a concise psychological assessment of all concerned parties, a hurried example, and a recommendation or two, all posed from an entirely anonymous perspective, in a rather strange scrawl. Lynch fervently hoped Larce went to the effort of having the handwriting analysed. He was quite certain it would cause some confusion to find out the note had been written by one Washington Irving. Falsifying hand writing wasn't too hard. Finding somebody good to emulate was. And the note lay neatly rolled up on Larce's bed, with Lynch back out the window, just before Larce's footsteps could be faintly heard outside.

Lynch made it back to his quarters without anyone noticing him, but he had a welcoming party waiting for him. Boom, unsurprisingly, was the first to question him.

"So, what did you do to him? Break anything vital?"

"Nothing, yet. Just a few recommendations."

Lynch's reply came back clipped. He wasn't too surprised that the others had tagged his intention to say something to Larce, but he was mildly disappointed that they'd misinterpreted why he wanted to say anything at all. Threatening a superior over a difference in work ethics simply wasn't his style. Sidestepping the raised eyebrows and implict questions, he slipped into his room, closed the door, and started mentally working out how of the standard equipment he'd actually give in and use, and how much he'd either discard or replace with his own variants. The first thing to go was the issued body armour. It was too constricting for his tastes, and he had his own, far more mobile set. As he debated the pros and cons of various automatic weapons, Lynch absently wondered if the simple fact that the note couldn't be traced easily would tie it to him. He suspected that was the case, but if there was no proof, he could play the tacit angle as much as he liked. Games within games. Just the way he liked it.[/font][/color]