<div class="floatright">(http://i1113.photobucket.com/albums/k512/MissF1R3/Mona3_zpswv5zowud.jpg)</div><strong>Character:</strong>Mona Temple<br/><strong>Location/Time:</strong>Brooklyn Warehouse - Yesterday, Early Evening  to Wall Street Penthouse - Today, Early Morning<br/><strong>Attire:</strong>Black leather jacket, jeans, boots, t-shirt.<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>Open<br/><hr/><br/><em>"I always knew you were crooked, Temple. But I just need you to do one thing to prove it to me; kill him."</em><br/><br/><em>"...Whatever I have to do to get some real firepower, Eddie."</em><br/><br/><em>"Don't call me that."</em><br/><br/>A van marked 'Marconi Shipping & Storage' idled a short distance away from the warehouse. Inside were a few highly trained professionals monitoring surveillance equipment. A joint operation between the ATF and the NYPD. Inside the innocuous-looking building were a dozen gun smugglers and enough merchandise to start a proper militia. Also inside the building; ATF agent William Dunsmoore, who'd recently been taken hostage while on a failed operation tailing one of the suspects. Detective Mona Temple had been wired up with the smallest possible surveillance camera and mic in an effort to capture the layout of the warehouse and prep for a raid. Her mission was to ascertain the location of the hostage and the general strength of the criminals inside the warehouse.<br/><br/>It had all gone to hell, of course. Edward Sawton, the wide-bodied and burly fireplug of a man was the leader of this little group of murder merchants and he'd run into Mona before. That he didn't just shoot her when she showed up at the front door was indicative of how little he thought of her. She had a reputation of making the law bend in order to suit her own vision of justice. They'd practically strip searched her - didn't find the mic and cam, thank god - and took her precious CZ75. The Czech-made pistol that was her favorite sidearm. Unarmed, Ed and three of his goon squad led her up some stairs to an office where Will Dunsmoore sat tied to a chair. Edward passed her a Glock and Mona held it in her hand. She looked at the weapon, then back at Ed.<br/><br/><em>"...It's not loaded. Whadda you want me to do, club him with it?"</em>she said.<br/><br/>Incredulous, the surprise showed on his face a moment before he relaxed and let slip an easy smile.<em>"Impressive. Not many people can tell if a weapon is loaded by the weight. Here, Detective,"</em>he said, passing her a single bullet.<br/><br/>Mona scowled and loaded the gun,<em>"So glad you trust me, Eddie."</em><br/><br/><em>"Don't call me that."</em><br/><br/>Mona shrugged her shoulders at him. She turned and pointed the weapon at a visibly sweating ATF agent. Her choices were limited. The point of the mission was to rescue him and arrest the arms dealers, but unless she killed him, they'd kill her. Choices, choices. She looked at William from behind her shades and remarked,<em>"Sorry. This is going to hurt."</em>Ed smiled.<br/><br/><strong>Bang!</strong><br/><br/>The shot was wide. It was supposed to be. A miraculous shot, really. It severed the ropes holding Will's arms behind the chair and grazed his right arm before continuing and lodging itself into the knee of a criminal that had been standing just behind and to the right of him. The ATF reacted quickly and jumped out of his seat, grabbed the chair by the back and smashed it into the face of the nearest goon. At the same time, Mona turned and bashed in the face of the criminal next to her with one solid smack of the Glock. She hit him right in the nose and his face was awash in red. He reeled and dropped his weapon, which Mona caught as she dove backwards, barely missed by Ed who'd drawn his own pistol and fired off a pair of shots. Mona fired once, hitting Ed in the hand and causing him to cry out and drop his weapon.<br/><br/><em>"Gah! You... bitch.."</em>growled the burly gun runner through clenched teeth.<br/><br/><em>"You're fine, Eddie, it's a through and through."</em><br/><br/><em>"Don't call- hrk!"</em>Eddie started to talk, but was cut off as Mona grabbed him by the collar, turning him around as she pulled him to his feet. Outside the office, the rest of the gun runners had heard the gunfire and were already training their weapons on the office door. Meanwhile, the task force in the van started scrambling to gear up and knock down the front door before everything went to hell.<br/><br/><strong><em>"OH MY GOD, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"</em></strong>shouted Will Dunsmoore.<br/><br/>The task force was too late.<br/><br/>Mona shoved Ed out the office door and pushed him over the catwalk railing. The rest of the runners held their fire for fear of hitting their ally and, for Ed's part, he managed to only break three ribs as he landed on a pile of crates. Mona used the opportunity to shoot the one gun runner up on the catwalk and then dive for cover. Despite being thoroughly aghast at Mona's actions, ATF agent William Dunsmoore was quick on his feat and also used the brief window to sprint from the office and dash down the stairs to cover behind some crates. He flanked the gun runners who were all focused on Mona, the agent getting off a pair of shots that put one down and divided their attention. Taking the opportunity, Mona used the pistol she'd confiscated during the office scuffle to fire down on the criminals. Six shots, three down. Two in the chest for each in rapid succession. Their numbers dwindling, two of the runners broke and bolted for the door - likely to be met by the task force.<br/><br/>There were still two more, though. Mona started to rise only to be met with gunfire from below. She had to duck again to avoid having her head blown off. Will was trying to edge his way around to get a decent shot. The last thug was a bit more creative. During the initial scuffle he'd run off and was now manning an industrial lifting crane. The rumble of it's engine now echoing in the warehouse. Mona whipped around in time to see it, but not in time to clear the walkway before he managed to slam the curved hook into the catwalk. Metal squealed and bent, Temple clingling to the railing as the crane started to wrench the entire walkway up.<br/><br/><em>"Fuck!"</em>shouted Mona. She was lucky enough to keep hold of her gun and raised it, firing down on the other gun runner. Miss. Out. The catwalk whined, bolts popping as it started to come free. Then, a call from below.<br/><br/><strong><em>"Temple! Catch!" </em></strong><br/><br/>It was Will, sprinting from cover, scooping up a fallen weapon. The gun runner on the ground turned and aimed at him. Everything seemed in slow motion. Will tossed the weapon into the air at Mona, then dropped and slid like he was trying to steal home base. Mona lept from the walkway, catching the gun in mid-air and firing just as the grounded thug did. The runner's shot went high, Mona's hit him in the back. He went down as Will pulled the trigger on his own weapon and took out the crane-operating gun runner.<br/><br/>Mona grunted as she hit a stack of boxes, rolled off, landed on another one. She groaned. That was going to bruise. Right at that moment, the door to the warehouse burst open. A flashbang blinded her and William both.<br/><br/><em>"Freeze! ATF! Hands up! Hands up!"</em><br/><br/>She groaned and lifted her shades to rub her eyes. Right on time as always.<br/><br/><hr/><br/>Yesterday had been interesting. After the raid there was the usual debriefing for Mona. Hours of paper work and going over every last round spent. The usual being scolded by superiors. What she'd done to Eddie was quite against the law. Then again, she'd done quite a few such things in the name of what she considered to be the greater good. It usually worked out. The way she'd been fucked over by the NYPD for most of her early years had left her with a lot of wiggle room and a lot of favors to cash in. This time, however, she didn't expect her debriefing to be interrupted by a mysterious visitor with some extremely good credentials. The meeting she'd had with this man in black had been an eye-opener. The proposal he'd made was too interesting not to accept. No more hunting for small fish in a big pond; it was time to hunt sharks in the ocean. So to speak.<br/><br/>So that's how she found herself on Wall Street.<br/><br/>Not as exciting a first destination as she'd hoped.<br/><br/>After passing the security check, Mona arrived to find herself in a spacious and luxurious apartment. The kind that screamed 'you can never afford this in your life' out of every last object and knickknack in it. For all it's elegance, Mona didn't really like it that much. It was too open, somehow too impersonal. Her apartment was shitty, that's for certain, but it had a 'lived in' feeling that Mona enjoyed. This place didn't have that. It did, however, have a woman looking around and a man eating breakfast, which made her briefly think she'd actually walked into the apartment of some rich couple. She stared at both of them from behind her shades, her expression neutral. In her head, however, she was wondering how best to proceed. Neither of these people screamed 'spy'. Nor did this place. What was she supposed to do, shout<em>"IS THIS THE SPY PARTY?"</em><br/><br/>Mona's lips tightened into a minute frown. For the moment, she kept her mouth shut, stuffed her hands into her jacket pockets and started to walk further inside, looking around very carefully as she moved. To outside observers it looked like she was wary, like she was expecting a gunfight to start at any second and that she might need to shoot someone in the head. The look on her face also said that she might not mind that too much.