Crossfire
- Thread starter rissa
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- Multiple posts per day
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- Male
- Primarily Prefer Female
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- Political intrigue, fantasy, futuristic, sci fi lite, superheroes, historical fiction, alternate universes. Smittings of romance, but only as side plot.
OPHELIA ADDISON LANCE
AGE || Twenty-Six | HEIGHT || 5'7" | WEIGHT || 125lbs. | AFFILIATION || CIA; DPD | CODENAME || Marlin
Ophelia Lance is a mystery sometimes, even unto herself. In a small country town in Louisiana, she was born to a single mother, who gave Ophelia up for adoption when raising her became too much of a strain on enjoying her young life. She was passed through the system, but with little success. An unruly and undisciplined child, she was typically difficult to place, and even less successful within a foster family and each year grew less and less enamored by the idea of finding a home, at all.
Still, for all her emotional flaws, she was a brilliant young girl, fueled by a determination to prove her worth in the world. By eighteen, Ophelia showed an excellence in many academic areas, most particularly, though, in foreign languages. Through a mentor program, she was awarded a scholarship to a prestigious university and within six months of her freshman year, Ophelia was approached by a member of the CIA.
Her time on the Farm proved fruitful, and Ophelia's ambitious nature and a perceived lack of ties made her a candidate for placement in the program. Assigned to a role at the Department of Clandestine Services, under the head of the Domestic Protection Department, Ophelia became a spy.
Within only weeks of her placement, Ophelia was given an assignment, fishing for information from a foreign agent. Deep under cover, she developed an emotional attachment, but when their two missions came to a head, she was ultimately forced to choose between one or the other... a decision she isn't entirely convinced was within her best interests.
OLIVER MALCOLM CROWLEY
| 29 | 6'2" | 217lbs | SIS; MI6 | 003 ♢ Templar |
Orphaned at a tender age, Oliver was raised by the Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Integer faucibus dictum pulvinar. Quisque mattis enim vestibulum nibh semper ultrices. Proin posuere diam quis mi accumsan vestibulum. Nunc eget mauris id dui gravida porttitor. Etiam volutpat congue suscipit. Sed sed condimentum risus. Donec gravida posuere tristique. Nam semper nisl ut est suscipit, nec scelerisque dui sodales. Nullam vulputate iaculis ligula, et vulputate ligula fermentum at.
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- Posting Speed
- Multiple posts per day
- Online Availability
- 8:00 AM - 4:00 PM
- Writing Levels
- Prestige
- Preferred Character Gender
- Male
- Primarily Prefer Female
- Genres
- Political intrigue, fantasy, futuristic, sci fi lite, superheroes, historical fiction, alternate universes. Smittings of romance, but only as side plot.
OPHELIA ADDISON LANCE
November 10th,
Stockholm, Sweden
Stockholm, Sweden
Black clouds hung overhead, swirling spires threatening rain as cracks of thunder rumbling in the background. A pair of red heels clicked across cobbled streets, a patent leather case gripped tight by black gloves. Crimson splashed across the pavement, where the body had landed, and around the fallen figure, patrons of the quaint little cafe gathered, panic and fear rampant among them. Ophelia did not look back. It wasn't ideal, the outcome, but it had been unavoidable. Package in hand, she should have felt a sense of pride, a sense of victory...
But like the weather, she felt on edge...
Fingers tightening around the case handle, she pulled her phone free with her other hand and keyed in the first number on speed dial, holding the phone to her ear. After two rings, a click indicated an answer.
"Feenie's Bait and Tackle, how may I help you?"
"Need to know the best bait for catching a Marlin."
"Operative Lance, you are clear."
"Tell Moyer I got the package... but things went south." There was a pause, the words weighted down like lead on her tongue, "Sutton is dead. There was a struggle and he took a header off the bank roof."
"Do you need an evac?"
Frowning, Ophelia glanced down at the briefcase, "Affirmative. Brits aren't gonna like this. Sutton was one of theirs. Why didn't we know this? There was nothing in his folder about being an operative..."
"Couldn't be helped, O... And anyway, you got the job done and that's what matters. We needed those documents, and Sutton had a chance to cooperate when we offered him asylum. Can you make it to Winagam Tower? We can get a chopper to you from there."
"It's close, yeah. I'll be there in ten." Hanging up, she tucked her phone back into her pocket and looking around, sighed softly. The crowd was growing and she couldn't see the figure anymore, lying prone against the pavement, but she couldn't shake the image from her mind's eye.
Tugging silk sheets across her form, Ophelia collapsed back against the pillows, shuddering inhales like gasps as her hand came to rest against her pounding pulse. Beside her, James laughed breathlessly, and rolling onto his side, his eyes came to rest on her profile. A hand stretched out and brushed a damp curl from the side of her cheek.
"Pretty boy…" Ophelia sighed, "You are gonna get me killed."
"I told you it wasn't a good idea. But your incessant flirting… I suppose it couldn't be helped." Knuckles gingerly grazing her jaw, he smiled, and leaning in, his lips pressed to her temple, "Now tell me the truth, Ophelia...Did you come into that bar last night, intending to seduce me?"
"I resent that…" Ophelia purred, turning to face him, "Clearly, you seduced me. I had every intention of keeping things strictly professional."
"Oh ho… Is that why you wore that dress? Your office must love you." He teased.
"Oi! They do, actually… but mainly cause I keep the Keurig stocked." Pinching him, she sat up, biting the edge of her lip. After a moment's silence, he folded back against the pillows and his fingertips reached to tiptoe along her bare spine.
"Where'd you go, O?" He asked, his voice melting into a tender softness.
"Hm?"
"You're doing that distance thing…" Sitting up beside her, his lips brushed her shoulder, and with a sigh, Ophelia curled into him.
"Sorry. It's just..." Breathing out, her shoulders rose in a shrug, "This wasn't expected. I'm still processing…"
Brushing her hair from her neck, he trailed a kiss to the base of her ear, "You and me both, Love. Not exactly protocol."
"What do we do?" Turning to him, she met his gaze, and James shrugged, raking his fingers through his hair.
"We figure it out, one day at a time, O."
"One day at a time?" Reaching up, she touched he cheek, brushing her thumb across the light dusting of stubble along his jaw, "So you're staying then?"
"What, here? No… Hell no. I hate this country. I mean to kidnap you."
Laughing, Ophelia shook her head and James tugged her into a firm kiss, yanking her back down to the mattress with him.
Reaching up, Ophelia touched the necklace at the base of her throat and blinking rapidly, turned the corner in search of the towering skyscraper marked by the signature 'W'. In the reflection of a side mirror on a passing car, Ophelia spotted him following… the hulking figure. He wore a grey ribbed sweater and a pair of wire rimmed glasses, and but for his size, she might have guessed he was just another citizen, on his way to the early morning trade floor. But he moved with purposeful strides, careful to keep his distance, yet observant…
Picking up her pace, she wove into the crowd, bringing the briefcase closer to her chest, heart clattering against the leather. At the base of her back, tucked beneath her jacket, she could feel the cool metal of the Kahr CW9. In the back of her mind, she knew it wasn't a viable option… not in such a crowded space, but it hadn't been more than ten minutes since she'd gotten ahold of the case and already, there was a tail. And it wouldn't be the only one...
Swearing softly, she turned down an alley. At the end was a metal door and pushing it open, Ophelia slipped inside, tugging her phone free again, her fingers brushing out a text.
Hitting send, a soft swear passed her lips and leaned against the door, she glanced down at the briefcase. There was one option left… And it had to work.
But like the weather, she felt on edge...
Fingers tightening around the case handle, she pulled her phone free with her other hand and keyed in the first number on speed dial, holding the phone to her ear. After two rings, a click indicated an answer.
"Feenie's Bait and Tackle, how may I help you?"
"Need to know the best bait for catching a Marlin."
"Operative Lance, you are clear."
"Tell Moyer I got the package... but things went south." There was a pause, the words weighted down like lead on her tongue, "Sutton is dead. There was a struggle and he took a header off the bank roof."
"Do you need an evac?"
Frowning, Ophelia glanced down at the briefcase, "Affirmative. Brits aren't gonna like this. Sutton was one of theirs. Why didn't we know this? There was nothing in his folder about being an operative..."
"Couldn't be helped, O... And anyway, you got the job done and that's what matters. We needed those documents, and Sutton had a chance to cooperate when we offered him asylum. Can you make it to Winagam Tower? We can get a chopper to you from there."
"It's close, yeah. I'll be there in ten." Hanging up, she tucked her phone back into her pocket and looking around, sighed softly. The crowd was growing and she couldn't see the figure anymore, lying prone against the pavement, but she couldn't shake the image from her mind's eye.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------SIX MONTHS EARLIER----------
Tugging silk sheets across her form, Ophelia collapsed back against the pillows, shuddering inhales like gasps as her hand came to rest against her pounding pulse. Beside her, James laughed breathlessly, and rolling onto his side, his eyes came to rest on her profile. A hand stretched out and brushed a damp curl from the side of her cheek.
"Pretty boy…" Ophelia sighed, "You are gonna get me killed."
"I told you it wasn't a good idea. But your incessant flirting… I suppose it couldn't be helped." Knuckles gingerly grazing her jaw, he smiled, and leaning in, his lips pressed to her temple, "Now tell me the truth, Ophelia...Did you come into that bar last night, intending to seduce me?"
"I resent that…" Ophelia purred, turning to face him, "Clearly, you seduced me. I had every intention of keeping things strictly professional."
"Oh ho… Is that why you wore that dress? Your office must love you." He teased.
"Oi! They do, actually… but mainly cause I keep the Keurig stocked." Pinching him, she sat up, biting the edge of her lip. After a moment's silence, he folded back against the pillows and his fingertips reached to tiptoe along her bare spine.
"Where'd you go, O?" He asked, his voice melting into a tender softness.
"Hm?"
"You're doing that distance thing…" Sitting up beside her, his lips brushed her shoulder, and with a sigh, Ophelia curled into him.
"Sorry. It's just..." Breathing out, her shoulders rose in a shrug, "This wasn't expected. I'm still processing…"
Brushing her hair from her neck, he trailed a kiss to the base of her ear, "You and me both, Love. Not exactly protocol."
"What do we do?" Turning to him, she met his gaze, and James shrugged, raking his fingers through his hair.
"We figure it out, one day at a time, O."
"One day at a time?" Reaching up, she touched he cheek, brushing her thumb across the light dusting of stubble along his jaw, "So you're staying then?"
"What, here? No… Hell no. I hate this country. I mean to kidnap you."
Laughing, Ophelia shook her head and James tugged her into a firm kiss, yanking her back down to the mattress with him.
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Reaching up, Ophelia touched the necklace at the base of her throat and blinking rapidly, turned the corner in search of the towering skyscraper marked by the signature 'W'. In the reflection of a side mirror on a passing car, Ophelia spotted him following… the hulking figure. He wore a grey ribbed sweater and a pair of wire rimmed glasses, and but for his size, she might have guessed he was just another citizen, on his way to the early morning trade floor. But he moved with purposeful strides, careful to keep his distance, yet observant…
Picking up her pace, she wove into the crowd, bringing the briefcase closer to her chest, heart clattering against the leather. At the base of her back, tucked beneath her jacket, she could feel the cool metal of the Kahr CW9. In the back of her mind, she knew it wasn't a viable option… not in such a crowded space, but it hadn't been more than ten minutes since she'd gotten ahold of the case and already, there was a tail. And it wouldn't be the only one...
Swearing softly, she turned down an alley. At the end was a metal door and pushing it open, Ophelia slipped inside, tugging her phone free again, her fingers brushing out a text.
Can't make the party.
Traffic is killer. Send Mom my love.
Traffic is killer. Send Mom my love.
Hitting send, a soft swear passed her lips and leaned against the door, she glanced down at the briefcase. There was one option left… And it had to work.
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OLIVER MALCOLM CROWLEY
"She has the briefcase, 003.
"Remember, you're here for Sutton's briefcase, that's your mission."
003 scoffed into his ear piece as he rounded a corner, growing near his intercept point. He had had eyes on the rooftop when Sutton took a dive and the man's freefall played repeatedly in his mind's eye, causing the ever constant flame in his gut to flicker into life. What the hell had happened?
Not even his superiors knew…
"Get in the elevator to your right, 003… Get off on the fifth floor, take two rights and then the emergency exit."
Without hesitation he turned on his heel, extending an arm quickly before the elevator doors closed completely. Space was limited, but thankfully not cramped, and as he reached for the fifth button, an elderly woman who stood near signaled for his floor. He held up an open palm and a polite smile, nodding gratefully when she pushed the fifth floor button.
Sutton's been MIA for months and not even two weeks after he resurfaces, he's dead?
Murdered… Thrown off a damn building?
Bastard deserved a better death than that…
ding!
Taking his leave from the elevator, 003 adjusted his cufflink, double checked his personal arsenal, and took the first right. Truth be told, he had no idea as to what building he was in, but he'd been instructed to enter… And enter he did. Taking his second right, he was met with the emergency exit to his immediate left.
"Is it connected to an alarm, Soph?"
"Not anymore, I've disconnected it. Now hurry up, she has a tail and I'm pretty sure she just trapped herself…"
"She's not incompetent, Soph. If she was she'd be dead already."
"She's an American, 003. Now hurry up, Moji wants you to be finished before dinner.
Once you're down, take two lefts and a right and you'll enter her building from the north side."
Laughing as he cracked open the emergency exit, 003 was met with blinding sunlight and a haphazardly taken care of fire-exit. After four landings and flights of stairs, he leapt from the extended ladder onto solid pavement and did as he was instructed. The foreign streets were just as dirty as the ones he was used to, though they held an odor he wasn't quite as familiar with. Or maybe, just maybe, nothing smelled better than home.
"Are the alarms disconnected?"
"There doesn't appear to be any alarms, 003, or at least none that I can find. I'm sending an evac as soon as you enter the building. Get the case and get out, 003. Eliminate the tail.
"Once you're inside take the first left and then a right into the stairwell. She's somewhere downstairs…"
"Aye aye," 003 said softly, cracking open the metal door and slipping inside. "And her?"
"Moji says it's your call."
Hmpf. Sure it is.
Soft soled shoes made their way across two dimly lit hallways before he reached the stairwell and once he was in its echoey embrace, drew his handgun from its holster and made his way downstairs. Senses straining, intuition screaming, 003 cracked open the heavy metal door with a soft yelp from the hinges and stepped through into the unknown.
- Posting Speed
- Multiple posts per day
- Online Availability
- 8:00 AM - 4:00 PM
- Writing Levels
- Prestige
- Preferred Character Gender
- Male
- Primarily Prefer Female
- Genres
- Political intrigue, fantasy, futuristic, sci fi lite, superheroes, historical fiction, alternate universes. Smittings of romance, but only as side plot.
OPHELIA ADDISON LANCE
November 10th,
Stockholm, Sweden
Stockholm, Sweden
She was being followed. That much she knew, but by who was the question, and this was always the issue with a tail. There were too many options, too much of the unknown. Given the tender nature of the situation as it was, reacting too rashly, too quickly, could be disastrous. In her mind, she could still see him tumbling over he edge of the building... Sutton was MI6. The reveal had shaken her to the core, now it terrified her. The briefcase in her hand, it was the only thing she had to her advantage, now, and if she had to use it to barter for her life.. she wasn't above it. She would never hand it over, not when it was something Sutton was willing to die for, but no one needed to know that.
Stepping back away from the door, her fingers tightened around the case as she watched the door she came through, watched and waited. The creak came. The sound of metal, prying back, the knob twisting. Except it wasn't her door. The sound came from behind her, and with her heart smacking hard against her ribs, Ophelia ducked back, out of the way.
How had he gotten around? How could anyone get around the building that fast? Never mind the fact that he had to be spiderman, to scale the walls... He managed to get through the building and down to her floor with inhuman speed. Taking the case, swallowing and cursing her luck that she'd left her firearm back at the hotel like a complete idiot, she paused, sucked in a breath, and as the door opened fully, she slammed the edge of the case through the crack with as much force as she could propel it.
Stepping back away from the door, her fingers tightened around the case as she watched the door she came through, watched and waited. The creak came. The sound of metal, prying back, the knob twisting. Except it wasn't her door. The sound came from behind her, and with her heart smacking hard against her ribs, Ophelia ducked back, out of the way.
How had he gotten around? How could anyone get around the building that fast? Never mind the fact that he had to be spiderman, to scale the walls... He managed to get through the building and down to her floor with inhuman speed. Taking the case, swallowing and cursing her luck that she'd left her firearm back at the hotel like a complete idiot, she paused, sucked in a breath, and as the door opened fully, she slammed the edge of the case through the crack with as much force as she could propel it.