The Tredstone Case

Tritsteel

Kalise para todos!
Original poster
LURKER MEMBER
FOLKLORE MEMBER
Posting Speed
  1. 1-3 posts per day
  2. One post per day
  3. 1-3 posts per week
Writing Levels
  1. Intermediate
  2. Adept
  3. Advanced
Preferred Character Gender
  1. Primarily Prefer Male
  2. Primarily Prefer Female
  3. No Preferences
Genres
Modern, Action, Adventure, Fantasy. SCI-FI
The night was chilly, slightly more than usual. And in the rooftop where he was laying, the breeze felt even more cold. His breath was so quiet it seemed almost nonexistent, his heartbeat was slow but firm. His grip, grabbing firmly a high power sniper rifle, his eyes focused on the telescopic sight. Exactly 1123 yards away was his objective. He never got the why, he was just told the who, and the where. He just made sure they died. And he never failed. He made a slow blink and a second later he gently pressed the trigger.

A huge quantity of vapor was suppressed by the silencer, forming a small cloud by the sides of the rifle as the bullet came out of the rifle. The piece of metal traveled at a ridiculously high speed, following the planned trajectory, and 1.16 seconds later the bullet crossed his victim's head at the perfection, dropping the dead body to the floor. The man in the shadows disassembled the rifle in a blink of an eye and put it on the box. Not two minutes later he was already on his car, slowly abandoning the area. Another job well executed.
 
"Stand up straighter, Agent Wylde," says Alisa's direct superior, Agent Stiles. She does, standing taller and pushing her shoulders back. The two were standing in front of a door that led into the director's office, who would tell her what and where her next mission was. When Stiles thinks that she looks presentable enough, he turns the knob to the door, and heads inside, Alisa following. Inside sits Dr Dereaux at a desk, a folder atop it. "Sit down, Agent Wylde and Stiles," he says, his slight French accent lilting a little, almost as if he's mocking the two.

"I'd prefer to stay standing," Alisa says, knowing her perfect posture would fail if she did. It was hard enough standing up like this, but sitting would be an even greater challenge. Dereaux doesn't seem to mind, so she doesn't move, waiting for him to speak again.

"I'm sure you know about the string of murders happening, Agent Wylde." She nods. "Well, apparently, Chief Lincoln and his shareholders believes that they are connected somehow, paranoid old bastard. Personally, I think that he's just trying to keep Russia and Germany off our backs. Anyways, your job is to investigate them. Really, just pretend to be doing something, and he'll be satiated."

Alisa nods, though in truth she has no intent of simply pretending. If Chief Lincoln required it of her, then by God she would complete it.
 
Allen was doing his usual excercise on the park when his disposable phone rang. Just a message, telling him a place, a time and a target. Firsts things first. He memorized the data and got rid of the phone, made his way back home and grabbed the few things he may need. 1200 dollars, a fake passport and a brief case with some papers in it. This last one just for decoration. A few hours later he was on a flight straight to Paris. Once there, and a few more checks, he was granted permission to step into the country. His target was an old man, in the rich districts of the city. No bodyguards or any other important threat.

After a few days of surveillance, he determined the best time to strike and the best way to do it, and so, the night they wanted him dead came. The old man came out of his house to take out the trash, as ususal, he did pretty late. Allen got down of the car he rented a few days ago and walked to him. "Excuse me? Do you speak english?" Asked Allen as he approached the old man. "Yes, I do." Replied the man. "Oh, thank God. See, I'm lost, and I'm not quite sure how to get back to my hotel." Said Allen. "Sure, I can help you." Said the man getting close to Allen. Mistake, thought Allen.

With a quick movement, Allen grabbed the man by the arm and twisted it, inmobilizing the man. Before he could ask for help, or even take a breath, Allen too out of his pocket a syringe with a clear liquid and injected it directly to the man's neck. Then, Allen droped the man, who fell to the floor quietly struggling for his life as Allen left the scene without being noticed. That liquid would cause a cardiac arrest and then it will mix with his blood and become untraceable. Everybody will think it was a natural death.

The next morning Allen took a plane back to London. Another job well executed, thought him as he always did after a job we done.
 
Alisa first ascertains with Dereaux that she can have any funds she wants. He thought it was simply for the record, but in truth she knew that she'd need all the resources possible to perform such a feat as connecting hundreds of murders that all looked completely unconnected. After that, she took control of the main conference hall downstairs.

It was there, she decided, that she wouldn't leave for the next few days.

Assembling many of her better fellow agents there, she got a map of the world and began mapping out deaths of any journalist or government official in the past two years, looking for patterns. Red ink was confirmed natural cause, blue was currently unconfirmed whether or not it was a murder or not, and black was confirmed murder. In all reality, the map now looked like a child had eaten red, blue, and black crayons and thrown up. Getting some agents with laptops in, she got them searching forensic databases on the deaths, to find congruencies. Getting another map, this time Alisa focuses on dates and amounts, rather than specific types. This time it was rather cleaner, but still a jumbled mess. Indeed, it all looked random, the only pattern being that every person killed was some sort of people-person working in journalism or government...The type of people others would want out of the way, thinks Alisa gravely.

Using the current deduction idea, she decides to get constables out immediately, sending them out to bust known mercenary rings and mercenaries in general. By her figuring, at least one of them would know of the person who was killing these people, if her thoughts were right.
 
Allen got to his home, picking up a new disposable phone from the pick up point on his way to his place. A pretty regular place, with a rent and everythin up to date. Nothing too fancy, spending their money was one of the mistakes assassins used to do. But not him. Even his neightbors knew him. Of course they believed he worked as the IT guy in a insurance company. Something that on paper, he did. The government had taken care of building many characters for him to use, and every one of those was as solid as any real person could be. He sat on the sofa and went trough his schedule mentally. Having nothing to do, he allowed himself to rest for a while and look at the news, so he turned on the Tv and had some dinner. Then he checked that everything was and felt right and only then he allowed himself to grab some sleep.
 
It took nearly three days for Alisa to finally crash, after a thirty-six hour marathon of non-stop working. In reality, she knew that she was becoming obsessive, but knew from previous cases she had been on that assassins were quick to change and wise to large government movements, more so than the general populace, and she would have to be as well. She figured, while she recuperated, that she could, in theory, examine every citizen in the European Union for anything that might look suspicious, but not only would that take too long, it would also find people she wasn't looking for, like terrorists and gangs.

After twelve hours of resting, Alise returned to the conference room, where it was still as busy as ever. Her police groups had brought in a few mercenaries, but none of them knew anything. In fact, none of them believed that any of the murders were even connected.

Getting someone on the job of making a spreadsheet of the times people were killed, along with how, to search for patterns. Her idea was that whoever was killing them would alternate the ways they killed or they killed mostly at night or in the day, so she could possibly predict who would be killed next.

She did that next, gathering a list of people who were most likely to be targeted, controversial journalists, ministers, and ambassadors, and trying to determine that if they were targeted, then at what time, place, and with what they would be killed, with a plethora of Clue jokes from her agents in the background.
 
Allen had to put on his regular citizen face for the next couple of days. Laugh at the jokes of his neightbors, even tell fun stories about his fake life. That wasn't something he really enjoyed, but it was necessary. It was nice too, finally being able to disconect a little bit from all of that assassin life, of course, he could be called at any time, but he lived his life like if that call should never come.


"Daniel, we have a new assignment for you." A female voice spoke trough the phone to a man in his late thirties, of strong constitution, wearing a suit and a dark trenchcoat. Standing still in front of a cafeteria, ignoring everyone exept the call. "Yes, ma'am? What are the orders." Replied him. "There is a girl, she is new in the agency. She is investigation Tredstone." Said the female voice. "Does she represent a threat?" Asked Daniel. "No, no. None at all. Still, she seems... Too excited about her investigation. Daniel, you are sent to aid her in representation of the MI5. Of course, thats the official story. Make sure her investigation stays unsuccessful." Ordered the female voice. "I will, ma'am." Then he hang the phone and called for a cab. Tredstone... That's a dangerous thing to be investigating... Agent Alisa Wylde. Thought him as he recieved all the information he needed to his phone.

A few hours later, Daniel arrived to the agency and walked inside, respectful, but authoritative. His rank was probably way higher than anyone else there. Daniel knocked on the conference room and walked in with no further permission. "I'm looking for Agent Alisa Wylde." Demanded Daniel.
 
Alisa was furiously writing in a notebook, her own personal logs of her thoughts throughout the day, when a knock came at the door, followed by the sound of it opening. Not bothering to lift her head enough to look like she was paying attention, figuring someone else would handle it, she only looked up when she heard her name coming from an unfamiliar voice. Standing up, pushing her chair back, she went to the man, questioning in her gaze.

"Yes, what is it?" she didn't mean to be that way with him, but she was understandably stressed and itching to get back to work.
 
The Lady was right, she was starting to get really obsesed with Tredstone. And she didn't even knew what Tredstone was! Or even if it existed in the first place! "My name is Daniel Sanderson, from the MI5. I need to talk with you. In private." Said him, with the usual expression-less face of MI5 agents. Taking a look at the place, and to everybody in the room, he could notice she was the only obsessed with that, since the other people seemed to be there just because they were ordered to. "Now, Agent Wylde." Demanded Daniel.
 
Alisa nodded, before glancing over her shoulder and nodding at an agent, who was looking to her questioningly, and said, "Very well. Come along." She brushed past the man, leading him out into the hallway. Shutting the door behind him, she went to the empty hallway that was to its left.

"No one can hear us, what is it?" Alisa asked, looking up into his eyes.
 
Daniel followed her and listened to her voice. That was quite audacious for a young agent like her. And he liked that. "The government and the Queen of England are really proud of your work here, and have asked me to help you in your investigation." Said him in a really official way. "That's the official story. Now I'll tell you how things work from now on; you keep doing your job, give me all the information you find. When the time comes, the bad guys were trapped by the MI5, with the priceless help of 'you', then you get a promotion, and everyone gets to go home with a smile. Did I made my self clear, agent?"
 
Alisa's eyes narrowed slightly as the man spoke, telling her that she would have to give him any information she found. When he finished, she muttered under her breath, "Fake an investigation?" Shaking her head, she looked back up at him. "I've a duty to my country and my queen. I'm not doing this to get a promotion, I'm doing this to make sure my people are safe. And I won't stop until I find who killed those people." Alisa tips her chin up slightly, defiantly, certainty in her voice and eyes.
 
Daniel smiled. This may become a problem if not handled propertly, thought him. "Aren't we all, agent?" Said him. "We are not 'faking' anything, Wylde. We are on the same boat, agent. Stop behaving like a child, don't make things any more difficult." He took a deep breath and walked to the conference room. "Come on, I want to be updated on the case. Now." Ordered him, taking advantadge of his position.
 
She didn't like his coy answer, it was too chiding, as if he was talking to a child. As he told her to stop behaving like a child, this only furthered her previous thought, watching for a moment as he walked towards the conference room. Coming back to her senses, Alisa ran in front of him, blocking the door. "This is my case. I have permission to disperse manpower as I see fit. At the moment, I have absolutely no need for anybody else. If you have a problem, take it up with Agent Stiles and Dr Dereaux."
 
He smiled, and, in a second, he remembered all his years as agent, how he wanted to change the world and catch the bad guys. How as he climbed in the hirearchy he started to see the world at it really was, how he was not able to change it any longer. "You don't seem to undersant it. I'm not asking you, Agent. I'm not even here to offer you my help. The MI5 is here to oversee this case, and believe me, we are way high in the heriarchy." Daniel smiled again and looked at her. "Can we prceed with the case now, Agent Wylde?" Asked him, but it didn't realy sounded like a question.
 
She bit her tongue until she drew blood as he told her that MI5 was simply there to oversee the case, resisting the urge to lash out at him. That would bring her more trouble than simply locking the door behind her. Sighing and looking away as she realized she was beat, she turned the knob behind her, pushing the door open. Turning her back to him, she entered it, not saying anything to him as she listened to what one of her agents was saying, telling her what he had found out in the five minutes she had been dealing with him in the hallway. Still, she watched him out of the corner of her eye, making sure he didn't pull anything.
 
The phone rang again, and Allen stopped everything he was doing and pucked up the phone. Again, a message, but this time just a name and location. No time or how they wanted to kill the subject, a woman this time. It looks like this time the travel would be quite long. Eight hours long in fact, but after the wait, he landed in Dubai. A city made of money. It didn't mattered where did he looked, everything was too expensive for his taste. But that quite played to his advantadge. Mostly filled with rich people, staying in a cheap motel would have been suspicious, so this time he allowed himself to stay in a nice hotel. Not too expenisve neither, in the end, now he was Nathan, representative of Maphre insurance company.

Once settled, if sitting in the bed could be defined as settled, he walked out of the room, and wasting no more time he started the reconnaissance work. A few hours of walking and he finally identified his objective. And he had to admint, that for the first time in his career, he felt the slightest of the doubts. That girl was barely 18 years old. Still, his feelings were long time torn off his body and he quickly forgot about his doubts and traced a plan.

The habits of the humans were always the weak point. That girl always bought a coffee, at the same time of the day in the same shop. Every day. It took two days to gather all the equipment he required, but finelly, he was in the rooftop of a hotel, really, really far away from the cafeteria, dressed as like the maintenance workers, lying on the floor, handling a high precission sniper rifle. Usually, when there was no cause of death, it meant they just wanted the target death. 2003 yards. One of the longest, if not the longest shoot he had ever tried. The weather wasn't perfect neither, but contrary to what people may thing, getting to a rooftop with a rifle wasn't easy. He took a deep breath and started to make really complex maths in his head. A small electronic measurer was giving him constant measures of wind, temperature and pressure. At that distance, even the rotation of the earth itself had to be taken into account.

The girl finally come into the scene. His heart slowed down to almost an stop, his breath went almost out. He was a statue. As he predicted, two minutes and a half later he came out with her bodyguards and her coffee. Allen softly caressed the trigger and once the trajectory was set, he emptied his mind and blinked. Then, he pulled the trigger. The loudest of the noises filled the rooftom, since, to be able to pul that shoot he had to dispose of any sound suppresor. The bullet flew in the desired trajectory for almost two entire seconds, and finally, it landed in the target neck, breaking into pieces her spine and droping her death on the floor.

Acting quick, Allen disassembled the sniper, put it into a box and armed two small charges of Thermite, which once they were activated, melt the rifle and the box, leaving no trace of him being there. But when that happened, Allen was already dressed in his Italian suit, eating breakfast in the restaurant of that hotel.
 
Alisa spent the next few days keeping an eye on Daniel, while simultaneously figuring out a way to get under his radar. Soon, however, she came to the deduction that if all else failed, than she could become one of the people that most usually was killed, probably a journalist covering the most recent war in Iraq. Doing that was almost a surefire way of getting someone to want you dead. That way, she could lure the killer into a trap that would reveal him...It was a dangerous plan, she decided, one only to be used in emergencies. Like if they decided to cut her funding for the case.

It wasn't long before she received word of another killing, though she couldn't say for sure if it was related. It appeared to be a power struggle, a young girl in power being the dead one. Alisa nearly got in a plane right then, to investigate the scene, but figured that since the murders were spread over such a large area, the killer would be somewhere else by now. Instead, Alisa sent a small dispatch unit there, about five men she trusted fairly well. Hopefully, they would be able to find what she couldn't in the conference room.
 
And like he came he left. And everything was perfectly set to avoid undesirable guests asking questions; records of Nathan job in that place, recipts, transactions. Everything was covered, and only a clueless melted rifle was left on the rooftop. By the end of the next day Allen was back home.


"This is quite a neat job, I must say." Said Daniel, looking close to the dots in the map. She was really thorough, still, she was still really lost. There was points in that map that wasn't Tradstone thing, some of those wrong points were assassinations too. Daniel chuckled. Looks like our man isn't the only professional assassin out there, go figure. Thought him ironically. "So, what is your plan, agent? Do you have a motive? Any suspect?" Asked Daniel, like if he was mocking of her.
 
Alisa ignored Daniel's comment, instead focusing upon her current work. As he continued speaking to her, she spared him only a little attention, trying to work and listen at the same time. Currently, she was examining the time distance between killings, which would vary greatly. Sometimes the killings would be only a few hours in between, other times it would be days. Then, she began determining the time it would take to travel between the killings, ruling out the ones she knew for sure were too close together to be possible.

Hearing the mocking tone in his voice, Alisa looked up finally, her green eyes locking with his. Deciding that she would humor him, she said, "Yes. Currently, nearly every person in Europe is under scrutiny, although I realize that it is under no grounds to interrogate. People in other continents have already been mostly ruled out, as travel times would be too much to make any sense. The motive is almost certainly money. Why else would someone kill people on this scale? Now, if you've any more questions, please, don't hesitate to ask." She returned to her work, her last words sarcastic, to put it mildly.