APO: TOP SECRET

[Mariposa]

APO HEADQUARTERS - Briefing Room

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Mission One - The Package... APO Director, Nicole Vickers, Assistant Director, Adler (NPC), Field Agent, Enrique Ortiz, and Op-Tech, Noel Dyson.

---

​

Vickers had Agent Ortiz called in for a package retrieval mission. It would be the first mission assigned to the new operative, but she counted on his expertise to complete what she considered a simple in and out mission. Assistant Director, Adler was also seating in the room listening to the recording played for the first time to Agent Ortiz.

Man's Voice: "At 1300 U.T.C., Two agents of the central intelligence agency were abducted in Las Vegas. We claim responsibility for this act of aggression against the world's remaining superpower. Who we are is unimportant. What we represent is unimportant. What we want is to be heard. Within this audio file are coordinates leading to a designated location. Go there. Retrieve the package. Follow our demands." (recording stops)

"The two agents -- Cooper and Jackson -- were working undercover for us at Clonaid." Vickers said. The profiles of the two agents appeared on the screen behind her. "We believe they were abducted by a group known as Dark 12, a loose affiliation of Religious Extremist comprised of former US Militants and retired scientists. Though we know little about them, D12 seems to function like an organized crime family. The pickup location D12 specified is a theater in the red light districts in Los Angeles. Now, I don't like the idea of sending someone in alone to pick up the package. However, it's doubtful they'd betray us at this stage. Breaking their own rules before we even know their demands would result in a loss of negotiating credibility."

"I agree." Adler said, "I'll monitor you on fly-by."

"Run the op-tech with Dyson," Vickers said, "That's it."

"Break a leg," Adler added.

 

[Hell Hound Woof]

"Will do," Enrique said hopping up from his seat and walking out of the bullpen. He had a smile on his face, it'd been some time since his last mission and he was eager to get back into the field. He made his way to the OP Tech room and opened the door, he walked in with a smile and drummed his knuckles on the desk in excitement.

 

[Mundane Monster]

Noel sat at his worktable using an extremely tiny pair of tweezers to place the finishing touches on the surveillance drone, Ladybug. It'd taken him weeks to figure the little thing out. Well--Getting the function right was extremely easy, but figuring out how to camouflage it and give it a great name was a little harder. He'd thought birds multiple times, but he didn't want anyone shooting it down. So in the end he had decided on an insect. The ladybug was a bit larger than a real ladybug, but it was a lot harder to shoot.

Noel took a moment to smile at his little creation, and nearly jumped out of his skin when an agent entered.

His assistant, Mongsi, a robotic invention that he had made specifically for scanning his area for germs, scanning any of his creations for bugs or imperfections, and occupying guests, zoomed over to where the agent was drumming his fingers on the desk and angrily flashed red lights at him. Noel liked to keep a quiet work area, where usually the only noise was background pop music. Neither he nor his assistant appreciated the extra percussion.

Well, better to send him on his way than start something. Noel thought, and walked over to the man, holding a transparent ear piece, something that looked like a nicotine patch, and Ladybug. He placed each object on the desk in front of the agent.

He picked up the ear piece, "This is your method of communicating with HQ." He held the nicotine patch like thing out to the agent. "This is an EMF tracker, slap it on your chest or some other concealed body part. It's like the gps chip you put in pets. Um--Not that you're an animal, but it's just a precaution, so we can find you, if you know, stuff." It was safe to say that Noel wasn't very good with talking to the jocks of the establishment. Finally he gingerly picked up Ladybug. "This is a one man surveillance drone. When you get to the area, simply alert me, as I will be controlling her--it, and then just toss it gently into the air. I'll then remote control if from here to survey the area."

Noel then stepped back and turned back to his work.

 

[Hell Hound Woof]

Enrique exited the bus about a block away from the theater, he walked the rest of the way and stayed outside for a bit. He took the Ladybug from his jacket pocket and held his hand outstretched then threw it into the air lightly. He watched as its wings fluttered and it took flight, he walked away from it and cased the theater carefully. Spotting any suspicious faces that lingered, any repeating cars, anything like that. He eventually moved closer to the theater, his tracker on his left flank, the earpiece was in his ear. Enrique walked inside and spotted a janitor, older gentleman, small mustache, George Castanza hair. No real threat.

"Falcon, Android," Enrique said calmly as if he was talking to himself, "Could I get an idea of where I'm to look for the package?"

 

[SlamifiedBuddafied]

He didn't like being on leave. It was an abnormal period which he'd periodically face. Wayne had been overseas for over thirty years, nearly half his life. He adjusted to the field day by day, the new technology which made his youthful days seem like a stone age joke. This had become extremely potent in his mind back in 1993, when he'd been inserted into the desert of Southern Iraq via halo drop. The gear, the precision and the op in and of itself. The last twelve years in the USSR, stuck as a double agent posing as an officer had shielded his eyes from what his home had conceived.

He still acted as though he'd never been put off duty, even if it were a well deserved vacation. Vigilance. Wayne's number one rule. Atop an upscale apartment in downtown Seattle, he sat peering down at the city in hopes of catching something out of the ordinary. To used to the years in the Middle East, he'd have nights like this where he'd observe the occasional shots fired off in the desert darkness up to full scale artillery strikes and battles blazing. Almost unsettling it was, having actual peace and quiet now for the past year. He counted the minutes until he'd be called back in for duty, as he'd grown weary of living like a civilian. A mission, an objective or even just something to occupy his time. He'd become a relic, a piece of antiqued flesh stuck in the modern age. But he knew his uses, as they were many.

The digital counter on his watch chimed. Three AM. Wayne folded his cheap lawn chair, packed his tools and made his way three levels down to his bland bare apartment. A bare mattress, a near empty fridge, four sets of the same plain jeans and black shirts, two sets of suits, a single non-cable television and a toothbrush complete with paste. No need for much more. In a neat manner he placed his boots at the door and made his way to his fridge; condiments, no food and three beers. Popping the cap off a beer with his bare hand he sat on the bare mattress and stared out his window. He balled his toes into knuckles on the thick carpet, one of the few things he enjoyed from being in the field. Some of the simple luxuries in life, like carpet.

Finishing the beer he flipped on the television to his own comedy channel, the news. It was comical to him, the misinformation; he specialized in it for years and he critiqued the foolhardy information relayed on the news. They didn't do it right. Not enough truth to support the lie, too many lies. The key to misinformation is always supply a proportionate amount of truth, of reality to circumvent the receiver and in a nuance fashion, supplement that truth with the false information. He chuckled a bit as he slowly drifted into sleep. Somehow he felt himself missing the soft desert wind and the speckling sand swiping across his skin.

 

[Whirlwind]

White wires from her mp3 player hit Roma's hoodie covered chest as she jogged around the park track. One fist clenched itself tightly, while the other held firmly the worn blue leash that attached to her German shepherd, Rogue. Roma's thin blonde hair was up in a high ponytail that swished with each step, tickling the nape of her neck. She ignored the sensation for the most part, as it only drew her attention to the sweat beads forming in that spot that the hair managed to swipe away each time. Puffs of air formed in her cheeks only to expel hard through deep colored lips, her Nikes gripping the gravel below and tossing bits behind her. Rogue seemed to find the adventure rather grand, tongue lolling out happily and yet not getting distracted so as to cause Roma to have to tug the beast back on track.

Finishing her exercise, the woman slowed and began walking, waiting until she could put her hand on her stomach and it was no longer cold to touch, but warm. Once she achieved her objective, she stopped, letting her hands fall to her neoprene covered knees and smiling. "Well, what's say we go get a pick me up, ay girl?" she smiled at the dog next to her, who just seemed to be smiling back before padding her right paw a few times in excitement. Roma chuckled a bit and finished walking Rogue back to her Jeep, letting her sit in the back while she went to the Starbucks drive-thru. On the rather annoying drive (Roma hated traffic), her mind began to wander, wondering when she would be activated for her first 'mission'. She'd been through all the tests, jumped through all their hoops, got familiar with the director and headquarters. But that didn't mean she felt completely prepared on the inside. It was that feeling she had when she was a marine and they were awaiting the next recon mission. They could have fun and joke around with each other, pretend their lives weren't going to be in danger soon, but that heaviness was always there. Always sitting in the back of their minds. She could only hope this CIA gig would be more suited for her state of mind. Of course, she'd never been great at being a civilian in the first place. It was probably the best place she could be.

 

[Mariposa]

Vickers set the folder down on the desk. She was worried about the captured agents. 'What could D12 possibly value in exchange? Clearly nothing from Clonaid. It must be something the CIA had in their possession.' She exits the office and headed toward base ops.

"Do you think you're there to watch the porn? Sweep the theater, Perro. The package could be anywhere," Adler replied, impatiently. He stood by Dyson, and observed Dyson as he piloted "Ladybug". He couldn't tell if the boy was playing with the drone or actually working from the looks of him.

'How does Vicker find them?' The question crossed his mind. It was no secret that he disliked the director. He had been offered the position of director and then stripped of it. Then he had no choice but to sit back and watch as the new director took a dump on his station, changing personnel around, canceling operations he had set up himself, and now recruiting a pile of inexperienced personnel that need to be handheld through operations.

"What's the status?" Vickers asked.

Adler felt a chill on the back of the neck. He turned slightly, and looking back at the Director said, "Perimeter's clear. No suspect signals."

Vickers leaned in closer. She studied the image on the screen. "Dyson, can the drone pick up heat signals? Try switching to infrared remote sensing, look for anything out of place."

 

[Hell Hound Woof]

Enrique let out a sigh, the tone coming off Adler was less than pleasing, "I didnt realize theater's were aloud to put porn on anymore."

He figured knowledge of the briefcase or anything about where it might be would be helpful but hey, mission control feels like making him do work thats fine by him. He walked around for a while, counting three projection rooms total. He found a staircase and went up to the film booth's individually, making sure no one would be watching the projection rooms or that anyone was in there. When he reached the third one he looked out towards the projection room. Theatres one and two had people in them, three was entirely empty. He felt it was a bit suspicious and made his way down to the first floor and walked into the theatre, he looked up and down the rows until he reached the top and saw a shape in the right corner. He walked over to it his eyes locked on it, he sat in the seat where it was and picked it up, it wasnt taped, just the lid folded over it. He pulled the top back and spotted the head of Agent Jackson, the smell hit him like a truck. He set it aside for a moment and let out a cough, he looked into the box at Jackson's severed head, the cold dead eyes. He spotted a bit of paper poking out between his lips. He reached inside and pulled it out, he spotted D12 written on the top of it.

"Falcon, I've got the demands, pulled 'em from the mouth of Agent Jackson's severed head, which I found in a box."

Enrique packaged up the box and set it on the floor, he put his hand to his mouth and let out a sigh rubbing his face. He hated seeing the corpses of allies, it always fucked with his head, thinking it could be him one day. He stood and began walking down the steps towards the exit of the projection room.

"Whats the situation?" Enrique said, "Am I good to proceed to exfil?"

 

[Mariposa]

"Shit," Adler replied. "Come on in, Perro."

Vickers felt a sudden sense of failure. It was never easy accepting the death of one of her agents. She always felt responsible. Followed by anger and the need for justice, the mission become personal for Vickers.

"Get everyone in." Vickers commanded. "I want to get those sons-of-bitches." Adler nodded in agreement.

The calls were made, agent Luman, Cason, and Alejandro were called in to headquarters.

---

Mission Two - The Trade... Four hours later at APO Headquarters.

---

Sitting in the briefing room was, Director Vickers, Assistant Director Adler (NPC), Field Agents Ortiz, Luman, Cason, Chen (NPC), and Alejandro, Op-tech Dyson, and NSC Director Townsend (NPC).

"The death of Jackson is a great loss to this agency," Vickers said. "But keep in mind, his colleague is still alive, and it's our job to bring him home. National Security Council Director Brian Townsend will be coordinating with us.

Vickers was not at all happy to have the NSC involve in their operations, even less that it was her ex-husband calling the shots. The APO division conducted covert operations outside of CIA red tape, therefore, not hampered by a bureaucratic chain of command. The government did not want to know how they got things done, just that they did. And the only reason NSC was there was because they had in their possession the one thing D12 demanded.

"As some of you already know, D12 has agreed to return your remaining agent in exchange for the release of Mr. Flankman. And I'm here to inform you trading Flankman for the remaining asset. Has been authorized by the NSC." Brian said.

"Wait a minute. We can't just let him go," Adler said, in his usual irritated tone.

"To the best of our knowledge, Flankman's been bled dry of every piece of Intel he knows." Brian said, "The burden of the criminal justice notwithstanding, he now has a value to us only as a commodity in trade."---

"Without knowing why these people want Flankman, how can we even consider this?"---

"We think we know why they want him. They want him so they can kill him. The intelligence provided by Thomas Flankman indicates that Flankman may be responsible for the death of a high-ranking member within D12. They may want revenge."---

"If your revenge theory is wrong, we are setting a terrorist free. To say nothing of the fact that taking Thomas Flankman's Intel at face value is insane."---

Thomas Flankman was the former director of CAUS, "Clandestine Archives of UFO Studies", a branch of the Idealist Network, run under the pretense of being a division that "did not exist" of the CIA. In reality, CAUS operated on behalf of IN, and worked against the U.S. Government, by stealing and selling Extraterrestrial technology on the black market. It was Adler, who captured Flankman and shut down CAUS while working undercover as a double agent.

"Well, I'm fully aware of your history with Flankman, but I can't deny that despite your feelings for Flankman, he has provided accurate intelligence for over a year now. I'm authorizing the trade." Vickers said, authoritatively.

"If Director Vickers can trust him, I think you can, too." Brian said.

"For the record, I don't. I never will." Adler said, and stomped out of the room.

Adler's actions upset Vickers. The manner in which he questioned and attempted to undermine her decision, she saw it as a personal attack to her role as director. But Adler's actions toward her were not the priority, the safe return of the captive asset was, and she was going to do anything possible within her abilities to do just that.

"Moving on," Vickers said, directing herself to the agents in the room. "We've agreed to a location in the Sonoran Desert as the point of exchange. Each side is allowed no more than a 5-man cover team. Once the exchange is initiated, Flankman and Cooper will be released simultaneously.

"I want you to lead the team for the exchange, Luman," Vickers said. "The rest of you, make sure we get our guy back home." She smiled and nodded, that was her way of letting them know she had every confidence in their ability to get the job done.

"As usual, Dyson will prep Op-tech. Any questions or concerns?"

 

[Whirlwind]

[BCOLOR=transparent]The hot latte stung her tongue first, then the roof of her mouth as the liquid seeped down her throat, one hand gripping the recyclable cup and other her steering wheel. She pulled into her driveway and exited the small car, getting Rogue out of the back. Roma was using her now free hand to toss her keys around in her palm until the right one met her fingers, when she felt a buzzing in her pocket. Frowning, she put the key in her doorknob but didn't turn it, retrieving her rather dated looking flip phone. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Yeah?" she said when she put it to her ear, coffee & leash in the hand without the phone, standing on the short, grey porch. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Can I speak to Boxer?" came an unfamiliar voice. Roma paused briefly before her dry lips replied.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Wrong number." The satisfying snap of the phone came when she folded it, staying quiet as she let herself and the dog into the house, shutting the front door only slightly harder than usual.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]----[/BCOLOR]​

[BCOLOR=transparent]Sitting amongst her colleagues, Roma's deep hazel eyes stayed rather focused on the Director. They flitted in a bored fashion to the other now and again, but she made it a point to keep focused. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]She'd managed to get in a shower and change of clothes luckily prior to showing up, but had her blonde locks back up in a ponytail, just a low one this time that hung down her back. She wore a white shirt under a black fitted blazer with short puffed sleeves. And of course jeans, becaues she could never get used to wearing anything on her legs that wasn't black or denim. Her high heeled boots tapped the floor next to each other, as she'd never gotten comfortable crossing her legs in ladylike fashion.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]She sat back and just took things in quietly as the death of the agent was announced, and what was needed to get the other agent back alive. She had no history with this, Flankman person, and so it was merely amusing to watch Adler get up and storm out like a child who wasn't getting his way. She had turned her chair while watching him leave and now turned it back, just the vaguest expression of a smirk on her lips now that wasn't there prior. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]So, trade one man for another. Seemed simple enough. She'd be prepared in case it wasn't though. "Nope," Agent Cason said, her tone neither frightened nor confident, happy nor sad. She was used to just following orders.[/BCOLOR]

 

[SlamifiedBuddafied]

Boredom alleviated, Wayne found himself comfortably placed in a briefing room. Feeling strange though, his suit somehow seemed constraining around the neck. To formal, but formal was his position these days. Too old. If there were an abridged version as to his change in profession, those two words would sum it up. It wasn't that he'd had any qualms with this, but he'd been to used to taking direct action which he'd be able to maintain full control over, rather than calling shots from the back of the line. But of course, he knew the responsibility which came with this position was directly taken from his many years deep within the field. He'd done transactions before, one asset for another. Each situation called for something new though, for Wayne had learned that with every enemy comes a new set of rules.

He thought of 1997. An exchange of an asset with sensitive information for an agent who'd been subdued and treated with the utmost care. This care of course involved information extraction which almost always ends in having to torture a subject. Never was it a fine task, but a necessary one. It seemed this had already been taken care of in the case of this Flankman. It was like he'd been tasked to a cleanup crew. Once again, a necessary cog. He pictured the scene, groups at a distance while two shackled figures made their way past each other. Never that simple, but he liked to think it would be.

Thumbing through a handful of portfolio's, the photographed faces of those surrounding him flipped away between manila folders. Routine.

"I'm going to need a detailed list of transportation, coordinates of our meeting and contingencies available asap. If it would please the Director and her affiliates, I would request that we have nuance surveillance; Dyson, if you would send me any notes on any small drones prepped for recon, I would feel the op would require immediate detection of anyone else present in the area. No need for error here." Keeping his eyes glued to his files, "Director Vickers, I would like to request that we pull a favor with our boys over in Air Station Yuma to have a black hawk fueled as a contingent if fast extraction is required. Otherwise I only need our time window for the op."

He somehow felt sluggish, rusty if anything. The last year had taken Wayne far out of his element. He saw it as a test, seeing if an old man can still function in modern day society, much less function as an overseer rather than being out in the field. You know this. You've been this. You've done this. The wrinkles of his face hadn't even the trace of a quiver, but only the cold hard confidence of routine.

 

[Hell Hound Woof]

Enrique sat in listening to the briefing, within the four hours he'd been back he had gotten some coffee and a croissant, he was nibbling at his mind more focused on the mission. He thought about the drop, he wouldnt mind a few agents staying away from the drop with a set of rifles. So that they could end up getting both Cooper and Flankman, Adler had a fair point what if the bastard still had info, or had some plan to fuck it all up after they let him go. He didnt like making the switch fair, they could get back their asset and kill the rest of D12 before they could do anything. Or even capture them and torture them. But he dared not question Vicker's orders, especially since she was in the room with her ex. He had hoped Dyson would be equipping them with some decent weaponry, he figured he'd be put on watching the prisoner. Enrique knew he wasnt good at driving or long range shooting, but if Flankman felt like trying to run, oh he would be the guy to be. He heard Roma and chimed his answer in.

"No preguntas," Enrique said shifting in his seat so that he would be ready to leave once everyone said their bit.

 

[Mariposa]

"I can have a chopper from Delta Force ready," Brian said, to Luman. "Though I hope there won't be a need for it."

Brian fixed his eyes on Nicole. He had forgotten how beautiful she was. Two years had passed since he'd seen her in person. They both lead very busy lives. Though, they had an open communication regarding their daughter and business matters, the two had not seen one another since her father's funeral service. He adjusted his seat slightly to face Nicole.

Sitting back in the chair, Nicole loosens-up the buttons on her suit blazer. Her left arm rested on the table and sported a luxurious watch jewel. She was the very essence of an alpha business woman, dressed in a sleek black virgin wool suit with contrast-trim lapels. Her silky black hair was parted on the left, pushed tightly back into a high ponytail. She looked serious, yet there was a feminine softness all stamped on her face and the full shape of her lips that made her easy on the eyes. She'd turn 41 a month ago, and though she'd always been relaxed in all the nuances of beauty and the external signs of aging, passing the age of 40 had set in an uncomfortable feeling of insecurity that she despised. And by the way her ex-husband kept gazing at her, she couldn't decide if she should be flattered or worried.

"The area is a flat desert field in Mexico," Nicole said. "It should be easy to spot anyone and anything miles away. We've only agreed to two vehicles. D12 will shoot-up a flare to initiate the exchange. You will do the same to confirm. Your objective is getting Cooper back alive and safely home. Nothing else matters." Pausing for a moment before continuing, "As much as I want to bring D12 to justice for the death of Agent Jackson, getting Cooper back is a matter of the utmost importance."

 

[Mundane Monster]

As soon as the meeting ended, Noel speed walked back to his work place. He entered the room and rushed past Mongsi, who was in the middle of scanning the room for germs and spraying anti-germ remover in select spots that generated a lot of traffic, such as the front desk. At her creator's arrival, Mongsi paused and zoomed after Noel who had rushed over to his ipod dock and was in the process of scrolling through all of his 'get happy and forget what you just heard' playlists. He finally settled on his Marina and the Diamonds playlist and breathed out a sigh of relief when Bubblegum Bitch began playing. Noel knew that working for the CIA, people would eventually die. And even though he hadn't known Agent Jackson, Noel felt extremely sad that the guy had died the way that he did. And who knows what had happened prior to the decapitation?

The young man, turned to one of his cabinets where he kept his common tech. Things like EMF patches, and the earpieces resided there, as well as fingerprint camouflaging gel. He didn't think the agents would need the gel though, but he took it out just in case someone was feeling nervous.

Approaching the display table that he positioned up front behind the front desk, Noel began to place and spread out the various equipment that he would give to the agents. On the table he placed two sets of car keys and their respective emotes. Instead of the usual two buttons for locking and unlocking the doors, and another button for setting off the alarm or disarming it, there was another red button with a skull and cross bones on it. That was simply for emergencies in case things went bad and the agents needed to barricade themselves into the van. The button would shut down the van complete and lock the doors from the side. Bullet proof shields would replace the windows and windshield and they would basically be in a somewhat impenetrable object. Of course, it could only withstand bullet fire and maybe a bit of ramming from an equally large or larger vehicle. It would save the agent a bit of time, but the only downside was that when the shields came down, they wouldn't be able to see and instead have to rely on the van's GPS.

Next to the keys, Noel placed a case of XPSS Silent Pistols, two for each agent along with concealed gun holsters. A first aid kit, complete with an oxygen or respiratory mask, was placed alongside the gun case and as he set aside the other equipment Noel explained to the agents when they entered the room.

He handed each agent an EMF patch, and gently handed Agent Ortiz, Ladybug the surveillance bot, "Toss it into the air like last time, so the Director, and I can see you guys." He grabbed another bot, designed to look like a chameleon. "This is a germ scanner, when you get our agent back, place the bot directly onto his skin. If the bot turns red, then the agent has contracted some type of harmful disease or has ingested or been injected with poison. In the case of that scenario," He paused and grabbed a folded up Hazmat suit, "You should place him into this suit, while you're wearing gloves of course and you should probably refrain from inhaling much until he's secured into the suit."

"Okay so, that's about it—Oh! I almost forgot!" Noel raced back over to one of his desks, nearly tripping over a discarded box on the floor. He quickly caught himself and grabbed the thing that he had gone back for. It was another case, but this one had an invention that he was extremely proud of, ultra slim bullet proof vests, well he called them Fish Scales but since people rarely understood why he just called them slim vests. He returned to the agents, "You can slip these on right under your clothing and they're form fitting," He gestured nervously at the female agent, "so no one will know the wiser."

 

[Hell Hound Woof]

Enrique walked out of the briefing room soon after Noel. There was a slight chuckle seeing Noel rush to his work room, and Enrique followed after him at a regular pace. When the agents made it to the room he picked up his earpiece and EMF tracker, looked down at the chest holsters and pulled off his over shirt and slid his arms through the holster straps. He grabbed a pair of pistols from the table and looked at them. They were nice, XPSS, very top notch equipment. He slid them into the holsters held out his hand for the lady bug, then the chameleon bot. It was new tech to him and he eyed it for a bit. When he heard what it was for he got a bit worried about the whole team being poisoned by a chemical agent before even getting back to base. He watched as Noel said he forgot something then nearly tripped but recovered his step. Enrique found him to be an entertaining Op-Tech, better than the ones he used to work with anyway. He watched as Noel pulled out what looked like underarmor shirts with little scales on them. When he heard Dyson explain what they were his heart jumped a beat, they were remarkably cool. He pulled off his shirt and holsters then pulled on the slim vest, it was form fitting like Noel had said, Enrique looked down at it and ran his hand over it. It adhered to his skin like a sports shirt. He pulled on his shirt again then his holsters and starting asking Noel some questions.

"So what's our standard wear? And are we being issued some rifles, some spare mags?" He said with a calm face not trying to make Noel look bad but more so remind him the drop would be at a distance. He didnt want to undermine him but he didnt want to get fucked over on a mission either.

 

[Mundane Monster]

"Hm?" Noel froze and his sense of accomplishment evaporated in an instant. He always left something out, whenever he did tech run downs. Well, to be exact he hadn't left it out, he just hadn't gone over it. "I put everything that you'll need in the vans. See there's a panel," He paused, as it occurred to him that the agents wouldn't know what he was talking about if he didn't show them and so he ran over to his model cabinet. It was where he stowed all of the miniature figurines that he made of his bigger inventions. He pulled out the mini van, and flushed a bit in embarrassment because he'd written the van's name, Maxime, in white sharpie on the side of it. It was only so he could tell it apart from the other van, Gerald, it wasn't as though he liked naming inanimate objects...Maybe if he had been allowed to have an actual pet when he was younger he wouldn't feel the need to name and assign pronouns to his creations!

"Ehm," Noel cleared his throat when he realized he had gone off on a tangent in his own head and in reality he had been glowering at a spot on the floor. Giving a nervous chuckle he held the van out to the inquiring agent and pulled it apart. It was actually one of those Barbie doll vans that you could snap open and see inside, so it wasn't as though he was breaking it.

He indicated at a small button panel in the van, "In order to access the compartment that holds the rest of your...more extreme equipment, you need to key in the code of pi along with the six digits after the four." He smiled happily to himself because he'd thought long and hard about the password and had decided on pi because really, everyone knew at least a hundred digits of pi. "After that, the compartment will slide open and you can get what you need. Just be sure to close it later and re-key in the code to make sure it's locked securely."

 

[Whirlwind]

Roma awaited the others in the room to get with the program, looking around at them instead of the director. There was the older guy who said he needed details, surveillance… a black hawk for extraction. Roma raised an eyebrow, leaning back in her chair. Well, someone was thinking things would go wrong. She hoped there would already be a quick extraction option, but she doubted they'd need it. Seemed Luman was under the same impression by his response.

Roma glanced to the other agent in the room who seemed to speak another language. "What's preguntas?" she mumbled under her breath, frowning a bit. Did he not speak English? Well… this would be fun.

She rose as the meeting concluded and followed their op-tech guy to his work room. She looked around, admiring everything around her and giving a low whistle until they reached a table. Roma halted and waited for Noel while he busied himself setting things out. She let her eyes look over everything without touching until he brought make the bullet proof 'vests'. She nodded and slipped off her blazer and tank, setting them down while leaving herself in a bra and jeans. She slid on the material and ran her hand over it, not noticing the man's nervousness when gesturing to her specifically. "Nice," she said in approval, slipping back on her tops and looking to the other agent when he asked about fire power. She looked at Noel with raised brow until he answered. "The vans?" she questioned, interested, not undermining. She looked over the tech's little model, smirking just a bit at the name across it.

"Oh, like my birthday," she grinned when the password was revealed to be pi. She hesitated, looking between Ortiz and Noel with a bit of an embarrassed gaze. "My birthday is 3 14," she explained, shrugging and messing with a piece of her hair. She then started messing with the other items Noel had laid out, inspecting the pistols in particular. "Looks good. So, can we see this van in person or…?" she said, looking at the other two guys and waiting for an answer.

 

[Hell Hound Woof]

Enrique looked towards WheatPenny after everything had been explained by Noel and crossed his arms waiting to be given orders. The old man was just under the retirement age, but he looked like he could chew up nails and shit out a grenade. Not someone to show anything but the upmost respect to. So Enrique did his best not to sound too dickish in his next sentence.

"So Assistance Director Luman, what is your plan?" He said waiting for the old man to speak, Enrique was looking down at him a bit but the man still had impressive stature for his age.

 

[SlamifiedBuddafied]

Keeping the tail end, Wayne listened in on Noel and the others. Gadgets and devices which seemed like the kind of gizmo's and gadgets being dreamed up in the CIA R&D Department back in the seventies and eighties. It beat having to recon and being stuck up in a damned tree for hours on end. Then the chameleon like device, Wayne hadn't considered any biological contaminants, though it did remain an open possibility. Head down he continued in with the agents, jotting down notes in seemingly illegible writing. "Good tech we've got here. APO seems to keep the funding flowing like an open tap." Cynically speaking he eyed the ladybug, "Results seem to speak for themselves agent Noel."

He proceeded opposite the group and propped himself in an available chair. "Simple op here. I want to be keen on surveillance however, isn't hard to hide out in the desert. It's a slim possibility, but they may have ulterior motives to gain leverage with hostages; doubtful they're that stupid. That, chameleon thing and hazard suit, have those packed up as well. It's unsure if during any torture the asset has endured may have led to any foreign sickness if he's been out of country. As for the black hawk, strictly contingency if fast extraction is required. Have a favor called in and it'll be eighty-miles out and can be on site within twenty minutes." Closing his notepad. "Plans simple, five man extraction crew as agreed. You will be armed, lethal force will be issued if only fired upon. Otherwise we're all playing ball and this should be an in and out. Two vehicles, prepped in the motor pool. Now I'm seeing sets of pistols here, these should suffice for armaments."

He eyed his way around the room, chewing on the back of his lip. Uncomfortable. The setting, the planning. He'd grown into the mold of the field, having to wing your every move. He knew he'd grow into it, get to know these people and begin understanding their vices and virtues. He thought about Chibayish, small town off a north bank along the Euphrates in Iraq. Two men waiting in the desert, freezing in the sand ridden land, watching as a pair of solemn lights came jumping over a dune. An old truck, whining away to the night. Five stepped from it's back, dragging a sixth along with them. One of the two opposite shined a light on an open case in front of them, filled to the brim with US currency, two-hundred and thirty-thousand dollars for a life; another fair trade. Though they handed the man over, he'd been poisoned and died shortly after, it was too bad the money was laced with anthrax.

"We should have a medical team on standby as well, survey the asset's condition once extracted. Do we have anything to add agents?" Wayne fixed his eyes on Enrique, "Alguna pregunta mas o no?"

 

[Hell Hound Woof]

Enrique sat in the back of the van staring at the man, Dr. Flankman. Some nut job who believed in aliens, and the agency had managed to get something useful out of him. It made Enrique question what the hell D12 wanted him for, if he knew something more that we didnt know. And he was even more curious as to why the hell they didnt just have that blackhawk waste the D12 van once we got out asset out of there. But he didnt want to question it, he simply stared dead into Flankmans eyes. Enrique was practically daring him to make any kind of move against him, he hadnt been in a scuffle in some time.

"Whats our ETA?" Enrique shouted to the driver of the hostage vehicle, his eyes never leaving Flankman.