Closed: You Assassinate Like A Kid

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Shadowheart26

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The girl absent-mindedly waved a bug out of her face. It was too hot to be out here. Why couldn't the old man have his ceremony inside like a bloody normal person? She sighed inwardly, wondering when the old badger was going to get here. She looked through her scope again, noting that the un-importants had finished setting the dais up. The ribbons were strung, the media seats were filled, and even the General had already arrived. She smirked at the bulging man's sweaty form. She would bet her entire life's savings that the pompous fool was regretting this award by now. "He'll regret it even more after my job's done," She murmured to herself. The girl tapped a small radio device in her ear. "Do you see him coming yet?" She asked in a low voice, "I didn't take him as the sort to miss his own party. This heat is killing me, and the beige camo you made me wear doesn't feel like it's helping at all."
 
"Poor you, lying on your belly like the beach," Smoke practically buzzed inaudibly, lips unmoving like a ventriloquist. As one of those same "un-importants" she doled out bottles of water and chill towels from an iced cooler, yet circulated among the bigwigs like a tropical fish among coral with the same odds of being truly noticed by them.

Something caused a stir among the officials as one of them received his own transmission. Smoke relayed, "They're about to change the entire ceremony - he was intercepted on the road. Advocacy rebel group, holding him hostage for a change in policy. Too bad, we'd have been quicker."
 
Alice, or rather, Hunter, swore quietly on her end of the mic. "Hang on," She muttered, pulling very slowly out of her position and rolled over to a shaded part of the roof where a black square rested. She opened it and began typing. "I may not be particularly technologically savy," She said to herself, "But that doesn't mean I can't find a couple of hard-headed Socialists." After a few more seconds, she tapped her comm again. "You know we'll have to go after him, right?" She told Smoke, "Well, I will, if you're still stuck down there playing water-boy. We might want to bring our client up to speed, if he hasn't already heard. This was supposed to be the beginning of his climb up the ladder, remember? Actually, I wouldn't be surprised if the old man was happy with this new turn of events. It makes it less suspicious if his target dies in rebel hands than shot at his own award ceremony."
 
Her communication back was practically a hum in the back of her throat to the sensitive mic, "Of course we're going, even if it's a wild goose chase. And the kidnapper Socialists gotta be at least somewhat more alert and organized than this media party; you think I like a game of tag either?" Smoke expertly divides her attention between the conversation in her ear and the movements and speech of her surroundings. She simply selects the most blustered official, offers a refreshment 'to help his nerves' at the most irritating timing, and gets dismissed from the entire affair in a stream of profanity. Pleading for her job like a desperate lackey, Smoke couldn't be remembered as anything but that clueless pest who tried too hard.

Making her way to the rendezvous point on ratty motorbike, she indulged in more banter. "Water boy, huh? I'll remember that. You know, all my covers have been girls." There's a reason, that even in the United States her age and gender make double reasons to assume she's inconsequential. "If I ever tried for boy, my height and cuteness oughta age me down. You come across a target with 'taste for junior high boys' in their dossier and bingo, I got that one covered all by myself," she chortled.
 
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Hunter snorted, "Yeah, sure. 'Cuteness'. You have about as much 'cuteness' as a deadly viper that just got stepped on." She stopped typing for a minute to retrieve her short-range sniper rifle. She moved back to watch the screen as she quickly disassembled the gun. "You know, I don't understand how you can deal with those people," Hunter said with a shake of her head, "I lose my patience in a heartbeat and I'd have to disrupt their own. Wait, I've got a lock on the rebel's location. I'm heading down now and I'll meet you back at the car."
 
The barrage of officials didn't cause her to mutter but the stepped-on viper comment did. Equilibrium came back with a sigh as Smoke focused on keeping the rat bike rolling over lesser used asphalt in disrepair. "If it were just me paying mind to all this, yes, I'd probably be the same." But with Hunter she could live in her own private world of two, where everything else never truly touched. Hunter was like rain washing away an oil slick.

Hunter's car was hard to miss as they barreled towards the same spot. Smoke quirked her lips up and aimed for a collision course and spun out at the last minute.
 
( Hm, I'll take that as a compliment)

Hunter swore lowly at Smoke's dangerous game of chicken. "Don't get a scratch on my car, water boy!" She growled, pretending to be an angry upper-class person. She had stashed the rifle in the trunk of her black mustang and was blasting the ac on high. She loved this car the moment she had seen it, admiring it's beautiful leather seats and adoring the green neon light that lit up the under-carriage at night. All that, and the bullet-proof, tinted windows and water filter that could provide air for them if they ended up underwater. She left the doors unlocked as she pulled into a large alleyway, casually pulling on some black shades as she waited for Smoke to appear out of costume.
 
The girl's motorbike rattled to a stop in front of the first fast food restaurant past Hunter's alley that featured enough teenage traffic for her to be inconspicuous upon entry. She left the motor bike between a parked car and the time limit parking sign, "forgetting" that she'd left the keys in. Ditched was ditched; why deny some joyrider her or his fun by letting the machine wait there until it got hotwired or towed? Smoke entered behind a gaggle of teenagers; it was enough to superficially appear as part of the group without chit-chat to add to the effect. What would she possibly say to kill thirty seconds anyway? 'What high school do you go to, how's it hanging'?

Straight to the rest room, the petite mixed-race girl chucked the outer layer of service clothes and cap, emerged in a plain sleeveless top and shorts with water-spritzed hair and a swipe of makeup. The diner was Ma-and-Pa enough quality that the back garbage/emergency door had no alarm, so the assassin's trail was further confused by popping out from there. Psh, only concern about traipsing through an alley whether in broad daylight or dark was whether anyone was sophisticated to get the jump on her rather than just walk out in front of her to mug and threaten, and whether she'd have to discharge from the concealed in her back holster in that event.

Balancing the need for reasonable care with hurrying after their target, she was satisfied with her measures as she nonchalantly dropped into the Hunter's passenger seat. "Rock, paper scissors for the first song?" The last time Hunter had fallen for that, Smoke had picked a classical concerto neither one particularly cared for that lasted forty minutes, just because.
 
"I don't think so, sweet cheeks," Hunter grinned, flipping to a local channel that was broadcasting their target's capture. She pulling easily out of the alleyway, rolling past the fast food restuarant and speeding up as they left the city behind. "Looks like the rebel group has demands," She observed, turning up the volume as the crackling voice read off the provided list, "They must be loving the attention. I wonder if they'll think it's overrated after the government skins them alive for killing a civil war 'hero'."
 
"I only wish we'd gotten further ahead of the news bulletin. I mean, sheesh, I'd have thought the government would have bought some time rather than appear weak enough that dissidents actually got one over on them." Smoke kicked off her shoes and put her feet up on the dashboard. "More power to ya for cracking the location... how much did you really find out?"
 
"Get your sweaty feet off my dash and maybe I'll tell you," Hunter growled. SHe waited for her partner to obligue before spilling what she knew. "They have him in a camp, which is really just a cluster of abandoned white-wash buildings in the middle of this cursed desert." She gestured at her window with one hand, indicating the one they were currently speeding through. "They aren't that well equipped or anything. Like monkeys with rocket launchers, really. The problem is the lack of windows to snipe him through and that the group is too small and close knit for an infiltration job. Good news is their lack of formal security. They only crap they've got is men with guns. No sensors or dogs to speak of."
 
Smoke smirked at her partner's 'monkeys with rocket launcher' phrase. "So when are you going to start writing poetry? Well anyway, thankfully we're not on a rescue mission. I'd say wait until dark, plant ourselves at opposite ends with night vision goggles, and shoot the sentries to wound. Make chunks of the rest come out running as reinforcements, then just worry about those in siege." She bites her lip, calculating how taking out non-targets would affect their contractor's approval, even if in a virulent political group. "I wouldn't mind going in with a gas bomb 'n gas mask combo to cover us."
 
"That'll take too long," Hunter said with a shake of her head, "These guys are impatient and a bunch of idiots. I say we patch ourselves into their radio frequency and you convince them that you're a big government official. Then all we have to do is tell them that the old man means nothing to us, we'll never give in to their demands, and make fun of them until they put a bullet through his skull." She slowed down and pulled the black car off of the dusty road and behind a few giant rocks nearby. "I can even attack them while you pretend to have given the order. Make them think you mean business if they don't take you seriously," She offered.
 
Her eyes widened and she bounced lightly in her seat, her little over a hundred pounds hardly making a difference to the hotrod's shocks. "Oh my God that is the most fun thing ever." Her laugh and hand clap bent her over and curled her legs up to her chest. "Even if they don't buy the 'he means nothing to us', they would definitely believe the 'we don't give into terrorists'. Best of all, 'we are confident he would rather gladly give his life for his country rather than cede your demands'. 'Nope, no help coming.'" Smoke coughed, cleared her throat, and practiced deepening her voice and aging herself up in a natural tone.
 
Hunter laughed as she turned the key in the ignition. "I wish I could see the face they're going to make after they meet you, Ms. Government Official," She chuckled, "I'll leave you here with the equipment in the trunk while I head out to their place. Just call me if you need the extra insurancefor those bone-heads."
 
Smoke nodded, gave Hunter a beaming thumb's up as goodbye, and set to work on the portable radio rig from the trunk, bending over lithely. Like rehearsing for an interview or audition she practiced several variants on her story during setup until it flowed from her tongue like an ice cube melting in this heat.
 
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Alice, err, Hunter, was speeding down the abandoned road, gazing at her make-shift map until she deemed she was close enough. She didn't want the watch tower dogs to see her through a telescope, or anything. She slowed down and pulled her car of the road and a thirty meters into the sandy desert. After muttering her complaints about sand in her car, she left the key in the ignition, but took it's beeper with her. She had it installed so she would never lose her baby on a particularly 'outdoorsy' mission, especially after searching for over two hours for it in a bug-infested swamp after sniping. She pulled out a cloak from the trunk to match the terrain and help her blend in even more. She also pulled out a larger, heavier blanket and pulled it over her vehicle. Perfect. Lastly, she pulled her sniping gear out of the trunk and closed it. Now her car was completely covered and she was ready for her mission. She flicked on the hood to her cloak, feeling rather cool. Hunter assembled the gun and began walking out into the desert. The base was within sniping range and the dogs were too ill-trained to notice sand walking over the dunes towards a good viewing position. As she laid down, she pulled out some special googles from her pocket and put them on. Now the battle field was a field of blue with a series of red dots. She could see a man tied up in the building and she flicked on her comm to listen to Smoke's speech. Everything was set.
 
(( edited above and here )) Contact with the camp itself was practically the homestretch. She established her fake identity and fed them the government's total disregard for their demands or the target's wellbeing. As far as she could tell, the rebels hadn't a clue they were talking to a homespun pirate station. "We officials and our nation's people are so determined that your acts of terrorism accomplish nothing. We are so certain that our nation is united behind its freedoms - our proud soldiers didn't shed their blood to secure those freedoms for nothing, and we know the official wouldn't flinch to do the same." Any more heartfelt, and she'd have to double-dog-dare them.
 
Hunter grinned at Smoke's speech, marveling how the girl could sound so much like an older woman with authority. She could see the red man protest, his jaw moving up and down as he squirmed in his chair. She'd love to be able to see the sweat roll off of his brow as the enraged man that she assumed was the leader practically danced around in anger.

"No! You listen to ME, woman!" The leader's loud voice almost burst Hunter's eardrums, "WE have the Major General. WE make the rules and our voices WILL BE HEARD! DYNNES!!!"

A figure standing at attention near the rebel leader pulled out some sort of weapon that Hunter assumed was a handgun and put it at the old man's face. The figure casually cocked the gun while his leader turned back to his 'conversation'.

"I will give you one last chance to give in to our demands, or I will have a bullet put into your 'war hero's head, understand?" The man said lowly.
 
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Smoke stifled a laugh of glee at how easy it was to push buttons. Stars above, there wasn't a hell of a whole lot she could ever imagine herself getting this bombastic over, except most likely her partner. Was his life more vivid than hers, the way the teen sailed through hers with no beliefs, agenda or personal property to cling to?

Oh, why leave it as a verbal final bullet when she could drop a verbal anvil. "No, YOU have one chance to release your hostage, make a public apology for disrupting business as usual, and start shaping up like a patriotic citizen!" the mimicked older woman's voice snapped.
 
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