Trionfo Inc.
<h1 id="title">Elliquiy Role Playing Forums</h1>
		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Extreme =&gt; Extreme Small Groups =&gt; Topic started by: KittyRivera on 04-04-2010, 09:19:22</h2>
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				Title: <strong>Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>KittyRivera</strong> on <strong>04-04-2010, 09:19:22</strong>
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				(http://static.howstuffworks.com/gif/papacy-vatican-inside.jpg)<br><br>The Vatican. Easter Sunday.<br><br><br>The crowds were thicker in the Holy City come the Easter holiday. Her mother used to joke about the Christians who would come out of the woodwork only on holidays, calling them "Chreesters" in a mocking tone. Mea never did understand the irony of a Christian woman judging other Christians until she grew up. Then she felt guilty, as a nice Italian Catholic girl was wont to do, because her job took her away so often she wasn't able to attend Mass, and always made an effort around special Christian holidays. She was a Chreester now. What would her mother say?<br><br>"Major Van! Major Van!"<br><br>Hurried footsteps that broke through the dull white noise of the crowd caught her attention. Turning, she raised a hand in greeting as Father Murray's flushed and worried expression came visible.&nbsp; "Father Murray..." she murmured, pushing aside a trio of college students to meet the priest halfway.&nbsp; His arms were filled with stacks of papers, which slipped awkwardly in his grip. She gasped, catching a handful before they fell. "Jesus Christ, Father, you okay?" The red-faced papist waved her concern away, eyes glittering half in amusement, half in anger "That's enough of takin' the Lord's name in vain, child. Here, help me with these-"&nbsp; He began handing her stacks of folders, stuffed to the brim with paperwork.&nbsp; Then he turned, flicking his head for her to follow. Shuffling the papers to a better degree of organization, she followed.<br><br>"There's somethin' that Father Masino wants to speak to you about. He's through here..." he pushed open a side door that read "Private Entrance" that revealed a long hall studded with doors.&nbsp; "Last one on the right.&nbsp; And give me back my papers."&nbsp; Mea grinned, hefting the load back into his arms, nearly bowing the man with the weight.&nbsp; "Don't kill yourself, now."&nbsp; He murmured assent, hurrying off like a white rabbit with a waistcoat.<br><br>She strode down the hallway, knocking politely at the door.&nbsp; After a muted conversation on the other side of the door stilled, a voice called "Entre!"&nbsp; Pushing the door open, she nodded to Father Masino as he stood from the office chair in greeting.&nbsp; "Padre. What's the trouble?" The priest motioned her to sit, which she did, crossing her ankles beneath the comfortable office chair.&nbsp; "I just got off the phone with Yousef, he should be here momentarily. Vino?" He tilted his head towards the silver tray decked out with a fancy little spread.&nbsp; She shook her head mutely, folding her arms around her torso. 
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Xiddeus</strong> on <strong>04-04-2010, 20:37:24</strong>
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				Yousef put his cell phone back onto the nightstand and rolled back over to the woman he was with.&nbsp; <br><br>"I have time.&nbsp; The world won't end after all," he grinned as he spoke, his lips moving to meet hers.<br><br>A few minutes later he was dressing himself and dropped some euro on the nightstand, a short walk downstairs put him in front of his motorcycle.&nbsp; It was an American Harley Speedmaster, the descendant of the V-Rod.&nbsp; He knew all of the other italians hated it and especially the Vaticans.&nbsp; He didn't care.&nbsp; Gloves on he started the beast and like some demon from hell it roared to life as he charged it down the small lane leading away from the hotel and towards the Vatican City proper.&nbsp; It wouldn't take him long to get there.&nbsp; Father Masino sounded urgent, so he twisted the throttle hard as the front tire picked up off the ground slightly before settling back down, the bike roaring a challenge to all tha dared cross its path. He knew the cops hated him, but none of them could catch him, nor did they want to.
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				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>KittyRivera</strong> on <strong>05-04-2010, 09:21:27</strong>
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				After more than ten minutes of tense silence, Mea's aggravation grew exponentially worse. She'd have a talk with Yousef about being respectful of the team's time. She stood, grasping her hands behind her back, but before she could start pacing...or...something! the papist shook his head, setting his glass down on the tray "I won't keep you.&nbsp; Have a seat, Major Vanni, and I'll brief you."&nbsp; He opened a drawer in his desk and withdrew a paper folder, and pushed it towards her. She opened it, surprised to find herself looking down into a familiar face. "Prefect Strazzi? Wha-" The priest held up his hand. "Dejame explicarte. Approximately seven months ago, Senor Strazzi vanished, along with several rather invaluable items from the Vatican vault. At first, we thought perhaps he had been kidnapped, but after several days without word of a ransom, we began an internal investigation into the matter. We believed that Strazzi was a spy. An <em>Illuminati </em>spy."&nbsp; <br><br>Her teeth bared in anger. She flipped through the text documents until she got to another set of photos, pictures of ancient-looking manuscripts and...the spear head. She looked up, speechless, at the priest.&nbsp; "The Holy Lance?"&nbsp; The man's face twisted in angry regret. "Si. We believe that the Illuminati had inserted Strazzi into our ranks just to acquire the Lance. And the way to find the rest."&nbsp; She nodded, closing the folder and setting it on the desk.&nbsp; "We sent Christoph's team into Milan to try and find out if there was any recent suspicious activity at the Illuminati headquarters, but we lost their signal two hours ago."&nbsp; Mea nodded again, and began to stand up to leave, but the priest stopped her by urgently grabbing onto her wrist.&nbsp; "Major Vanni, please, I have not told you of the worst."&nbsp; <br><br>Mea sat down hesitantly, brows furrowing in worry at the pale, anguished expression on the priest's face.&nbsp; "The Lance...it...It gives people power. Unimaginable power. If he joins the spear shaft to the spear head, he will become like God. I deeply regret being forced to send your team into such grave danger...but unless we stop Strazzi, stop the Illuminati, we will all be answering to new masters soon."&nbsp; Mea swallowed tensely. "Well. We'll have to kill him, then."&nbsp; The papist shook his head "No, Mea," she started, jarred by the personal use of her first name. "You, as you are now, cannot kill him. No one can. However, there is information there," he motioned to the paperwork "that will give your team a chance."<br><br>They stood simultaneously, and shook hands.&nbsp; "Godspeed Major Vanni."<br><br>Shaken, Mea left the office.
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Xiddeus</strong> on <strong>05-04-2010, 17:19:50</strong>
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				Yousef powered into the parking lot in front of the Vatican.&nbsp; He hopped off of his bike and lit a cigarette, knowing full well it was against the rules within the sanctity of the Holy City.&nbsp; The vaulted ceilings arched up and away as he passed through checkpoint after checkpoint, and vehement priest and acolytes.&nbsp; He didn't even bother to look at them, they were just holy men, chosen by God to be men of learning and spiritual health, not Warriors of God.&nbsp; He knew he was not going into heaven, he had done too many evil things.&nbsp; The only respect he allowed, was when he approached the chapel.&nbsp; He faced the altar boy at its entrance, and smiled as he pulled the still lit cigarette into his mouth before continuing.&nbsp; He knelt at the altar and gave his prayer before heading towards Father Masino's office.&nbsp; He stopped as he exited the chapel and looked again at its guard.&nbsp; He opened his mouth and his tongue placed the cigarette back on his lips, still lit.&nbsp; He inhaled deeply before continuing on.&nbsp; He grinned evilly at the shocked face of the poor kid.&nbsp; That trick always got them.&nbsp; <br><br>His smile did not fade as he approached the papist's office, just as the Major walked out, even though her face held no love for him at this time.<br><br>"Major.&nbsp; The Father is finished with his speech I assume?" his Italian carrying a thick Croation accent.
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>KittyRivera</strong> on <strong>05-04-2010, 22:02:50</strong>
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				As Mea left the office, she checked her watch. Yousef was nearly fifteen minutes past due. She paused at the door when he finally appeared, her eyes narrowed slightly at the cigarette in his mouth, but she said nothing about it. Her face was normally like steel, emotionless and military...hard. But today, there was a paleness to her cheeks that leeched the color from her deep Mediterranean tan.<br><br>She was not a young woman anymore, but her face was well preserved and she needed little in the way of cosmetic artifice to be considered attractive. Her thick brunette waves were pulled back into a severe french twist, and she tucked this away beneath a low brimmed camouflage Army hat. One long fingernail clicked on the plastic of her watch face as she stared up at him, unblinking, from beneath the brim of the hat. She looked like a tiny drill instructor.<br><br>"Fifteen minutes late. If you were still in, they'd make you do PT for two hours for this. The Vatican and this company do not have time to wait for you. If this wasn't such an urgent matter, I'd report you. Understood, Captain?" There was a gravity in her eyes that begged for seriousness. She whipped the paper folder out from under captivity in her arm, and held it out to him.&nbsp; "I'll brief you while we head back to the truck. Seems we'll be taking a flight to the States today."<br>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Xiddeus</strong> on <strong>05-04-2010, 22:28:28</strong>
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				If she only knew how much this dangerous woman excited him, he was a man of the moment and nothing more, nothing less.&nbsp; The very fact that he got under her skin actually made his smile get a little wider, almost wolfish in its toothiness.&nbsp; He pulled the cigarette and put it out in his palm before pocketing it... He couldn't recall the times she had saved his ass, and so he respected her all the more.&nbsp; He took the folder and looked over its contents while he followed her, and he dropped the accent back to his natural yiddish one.<br><br>"So what exactly are we looking at here? Some kook believes that the lance that pierced the Son of God will grant him power?&nbsp; Major, you pulled me from a beautiful girls arms for this?"<br><br>He looked at her quizzically as they walked, then burst into laughter, closing the folder as he did so, most of it already committed to memory.<br><br>"I get it, haha, good for you, you got Yousef.&nbsp; You even let some color to your cheek to make it real.&nbsp; I get it, good job Boss.&nbsp; You had me going for a second.&nbsp; I was afraid you would bring out the whip for real!"<br><br>He halfway wished this was an attempt at her hooking up with him, Lord knew he wanted to, especially after that incident in Kiev a couple years ago.&nbsp; But theirs was a professional relation and he knew, but it didn't stop his dreaming. It was her devotion to duty and fire of spirit that drew him to her and kept him in line around her.&nbsp; Lord knew that too how bad he could be.
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>KittyRivera</strong> on <strong>05-04-2010, 23:10:39</strong>
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				She fell into step beside him, cutting a swath through the crowd.&nbsp; She lessened her pace cautiously, so that he wouldn't run into anything while his eyes were on the paperwork. Passing through splendid marble hall after splendid marble hall, they finally reached a back exit, locked by a keycard reader.&nbsp; She dug into her back pocket, sliding her coded card through the slot, and the door cycled to allow them to exit. While he was reading up on their mission, she lapsed into thought. His personality made it difficult for others to work with him, sometimes, but the Captain and Major respected each other deeply. Even if he did get on her last nerve, he was a damn good agent. <em>And she needed him.</em><br><br>"So what exactly are we looking at here? Some kook believes that the lance that pierced the Son of God will grant him power?&nbsp; Major, you pulled me from a beautiful girls arms for this?"&nbsp; The stark contrast of her pale crystalline eyes tightened on him. She gently maneuvered a small child from her path, her voice was low and sharp "This isn't a time for jokes, Captain." The sun was brilliant, and she blinked, allowing her vision to adjust. The parking lot was a few meters from the door. <br><br>"I get it, haha, good for you, you got Yousef.&nbsp; You even let some color to your cheek to make it real.&nbsp; I get it, good job Boss.&nbsp; You had me going for a second.&nbsp; I was afraid you would bring out the whip for real!" <br><br>She halted suddenly, whipping her arm across where his chest would be, to stop him in his tracks.&nbsp; "Captain! This isn't a prank. This isn't a joke, or a gag. This shit-" she stabbed her finger at the papers in his hand, her white teeth bared in a half-snarl. "is going down as we speak. Christoph's DEAD...his whole team, wiped out by the Illunimati. Jenny, David, Marcus...you knew them. You were <em>friends</em> with them...and they're gone. And if you want to keep your job with the Vatican, I suggest you straighten the <em>fuck</em> up. <em>Now</em>."<br><br>She wasn't hateful when she spoke to Yousef, but serious, cold, and desperate. She had liked Christoph, he had been a good agent, and a good man. His kid's didn't deserve this. Neither did his wife.<br><br>"So...you with me? Or are you going to stay here with your thumb up your ass and watch the entire world go to hell...LITERALLY?"<br><br><br><br><br><br><br>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Xiddeus</strong> on <strong>05-04-2010, 23:35:30</strong>
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				Shock sprang across his normally emotionless and hardened face... his eternal cavalier smirk lost to time...<br><br>"Dead..." Christoph, Dead. The words didn't fit.&nbsp; He had talked to him just a few days before, had dinner with his family and kids.&nbsp; Dead.&nbsp; The word seemed so final... especially now.&nbsp; Christoph, while a complete goofball, was a fine agent and knew his shit.&nbsp; He suddenly needed a hug if the whole team had been taken.&nbsp; For the first time in his life, Yousef the "Tank" needed a very reassuring hug.&nbsp; He recalled each team member in turn as he reached his hand out to place it on the Major's shoulder.&nbsp; It was out of line for him to do so, but he needed something to hold him up after the news.&nbsp; His face even turned a little pale.<br><br>Jenny, a hot little item that loved to mix it up melee.&nbsp; He remembered how she would flip up from the bed, directly from the riding position he had her in, before neatly jumping back on.<br><br>Dave, that guy.&nbsp; A crazy bookworm with a flair for really big handguns... Nutter.<br><br>Marcus... the russian who knew how to drink... Wodka is Wodka Yousef! he would say and they would tear up the town they were in.<br><br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>KittyRivera</strong> on <strong>06-04-2010, 00:05:05</strong>
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				She saw the change. She wasn't blind. Her head tilted in regret, "Yousef..." she murmured, covering his hand with hers. Her nails dug gently into his palm, and she stepped closer to him, eyes stretched into pools of shadow beneath the brim of her hat.<br><br>"I-...I'm sorry. They were all good people. Good agents. And they'll be sorely missed."&nbsp; Lifting her face, her eyes searched him. He was drawn, pallid, his face lined with sorrow...and it broke her heart to see him like this. Yousef was the life of the party, loud, obnoxious, well loved. To see him shut down and be human for once...it was nearly as hard for her as hearing about Christoph and his team. She didn't embrace him, but her other hand wound around their entwined digits and squeezed tightly, warmly, trying to reassure him that sorrow and anger was appropriate, and okay.<br><br>"Hey. Let's go get those fuckers who did this, huh?" Her voice was soft, but the threat behind it was real. The Vatican was giving them a chance for revenge. They could find the bastards, and kill them. It wouldn't bring Christoph's team back, but it would make sure that no one else would be at risk from their greed and malice.
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Xiddeus</strong> on <strong>06-04-2010, 00:15:05</strong>
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				Her hand was warm and tender, something that he wasn't expecting.&nbsp; He gazed deep into those eyes, mirrors into the soul people said.&nbsp; He wanted to lose himself in those eyes, like that night in Kiev.&nbsp; He didn't know if it felt real to her, seeing as they were only keeping their cover, by getting under them, but he sometimes thought back to that night.&nbsp; It snapped him out of his moment.&nbsp; The cavalier smile returned and his face got its color back, but he didn't move his hand from hers.<br><br>"Major, they say that Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned... Care to prove that? I think these poor souls have found themselves scorning you.&nbsp; And I don't think I will try to pull you back like I did down in Morrocco."<br><br>He realized his hand was still entwined in hers and pulled it free.<br><br>"Order's Boss?" he spoke as he licked his teeth everytime he got the urge to kill, his tongue delicately missing the slightly longer canines that gave him an almost vampiric look.&nbsp; His jaw still ached every time he thought of the Turk that made them surgically necessary.
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>KittyRivera</strong> on <strong>06-04-2010, 00:55:00</strong>
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				She didn't forget Kiev. Her shoulder still ached when it rained, a bitter reminder of her bleeding out her life's energy all over Yousef's lap, as a Russian sniper kept them pinned down for three days in a long forgotten hunting shack in the middle of nowhere...<br><br><br><em>Mea remembers....<br><br>It was a cold, slanting rain, the storm blowing gusts through the chinks in the wooden slat walls. The bullet was still inside her shoulder, and she lapsed in and out of consciousness throughout the night as the blood loss slowly began to sap her strength. The first two nights, she slept on and off, barely conscious enough to drink from her canteen. A fever skyrocketed in her on the third night, and her nightmares were vivid and terrifying. In a brief moment of clarity, when she was sure she was going to die, she woke Yousef by kissing him full on the lips, wanting to not regret ever following through with her attraction to him.&nbsp; She remembers nothing else from Kiev, waking up three weeks later in a hospital ICU with a tube down her throat and wires extruding from every inch of exposed skin. A life-threatening infection apparently had set in, and the fever forced her into a coma. Her heart stopped twice on the way to the hospital when they finally life-flighted Yousef and herself out, but she somehow managed to hang on.&nbsp; Yousef saved her life. He kept her warm, kept her from bleeding to death. He kept her sane.</em><br><br>When he pulled his hand from beneath hers, she cleared her throat awkwardly, crossing her arms over her chest. Flicking her chin towards the waiting van, she said "Come on. Let's get back to HQ and suit up. We've got a lot of work to do."
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Xiddeus</strong> on <strong>06-04-2010, 02:31:04</strong>
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				Yousef smirked as he hopped in the waiting van, a cigarette in hand, match in the other.&nbsp; He put the cigarette in his mouth and struck the match on his stubble, it flared to life, lighting his face as he held it to his cig, inhaling deeply.&nbsp; He blew the smoke at the air vent above him, the one they had installed because he smoked irreguardless.&nbsp; He reopened the Dossier in his mind as he grabbed his boots from the locker.&nbsp; He undid his riding jacket and then stripped down to the buff, not caring since he had done this a thousand times in front of her, their familiarity like an old married couple&nbsp; The scars from countless conflicts running the length of his body, from the knife wound by the ex-Spetznaz in Milan, to the small red welts left by the nails of the Italian hooker he was with the night before and this morning.&nbsp; &nbsp;He couldn't count the ones that he got from the barfights he and Marcus used to get into.&nbsp; They weren't from battle, just fun.&nbsp; He finished blousing his urban assault camo into his combat boot and grabbed the armoured vest with all of his tactical gear... A Scar-H he hung at his back, the shorter barrel on it in order to be used in assaults, his personal forte.&nbsp; He hated long range combat, he couldn't feel the enemy then.&nbsp; He wanted to taste their fear as they saw him come upon them, hear their heart slow and stop as he killed them.&nbsp; He placed a Desert Eagle .50 into his pistol holster and gave the Major a thumbs up as he finished his gear.&nbsp; He placed a set of tactical Shades with the Realtime Enhancemet Hud on his forehead. He loved these things, but they had limited range, and he usually moved out of it, far from the safety of the CP, deep into enemy territory.
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				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>KittyRivera</strong> on <strong>06-04-2010, 11:49:34</strong>
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				She kept her back respectfully turned as he stripped, rapidly doing the same. Inside the Vatican, she had respectfully donned slacks and put a brown leather jacket over her green army tee shirt, but inside the van, it was all business. Trionfo had the best high tech tactical assault armor money could buy, bulletproof and lightweight, it was constructed of polytech fiber that would stop small rounds and stabs, and take most of the brunt of larger caliber rounds.&nbsp; She folded her jacket carefully and set it aside, pulling her tee shirt over her head and folding it neatly. Unzipping her slacks, she folded these and tucked them all into a small locker labeled with her name for just this purpose. Beneath her casual clothes, she wore a pair of no-nonsense bikini briefs and a matching white sports bra, even though her small breasts really didn't need the support, she felt more comfortable in it.<br><br>The lightweight fitted pants were the first thing she wriggled into. It was strange fabric, feeling sticky and almost snake-like to the touch, but when warmed to body temperature, moved and breathed like a second skin. The bio-suit they wore under their armor was brilliant technology, full of electronics that monitored their life signs, masked their heat and infrared signature, and held cameras so that their extop could monitor them from the van. The long-sleeved top was too hot for warm mid-Spring American weather, but it was necessary for the suit. She pulled on the bulletproof vest, then strapped on her tactical belt and doublechecked the pockets for the correct equipment. The thigh and shin guards were next, then the ninja socks, which were not as safe as boots, but would make her footsteps silent and quick. She dug into the equipment locker, looping a thin black rope on her belt hook, and loaded a single palm shot of stimtabs into the wrist of her suit.<br><br>She reached for her nine millimeter and four clips, then set down all but one. If they got into a spot where they really needed that much firepower, they were already dead.<br><br>"Gabe?"&nbsp; She said, and their extop turned from the front of the van, a thin but very handsome Latino man with a thin scar running down the entire front-left of his face.&nbsp; "Uplink ready, Major Van. Sending coordinates now."
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Stormgale</strong> on <strong>06-04-2010, 20:04:54</strong>
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				"I see the two lovebirds thought they could slip out without me" he said, closing the door of the van behind him as a quick grin flashed across his features, tapping his tablet with ease "It would seem the Vatican archives have no sense of Swiftness in their action". On the tablet was a collection of scans, a mix of Historical accounts of artifacts and the Legends built around them, much lighter than hefting around 800 year old tomes after all. Harry had been briefed , sent to find as much information as possible from the massive archives, which was kind of like pulling teeth if each tooth gave you a Sermon about the heretical nature of what you were doing. He shifted to the command station, slipping his Tablet into the required slot, leaving the movement revealing his armaments: a TDI Vector hidden among the folds of his heavy coat with a Glock on his hip holster. His baggy clothing hid the combat armor underneath, preferring Data to stealth he had micro-computing systems embedded, allowing for rapid access to Communications, data support and other electronic warfare surprises. In his combat pack he had a disassembled M110 Long Rifle considering their current team lacked dedicated long range firepower... he preferred close quarter fighting himself.<br><br>"Oh and Yousef sync your shades with my suit, won't provide the full package but should keep tactical data relay even when we go off grid... I might even be able to Circumvent the enemy's Information systems and feed you data through there" he turned in his chair as systems synched in "So then everyone know what we are up against?" he asked.
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Xiddeus</strong> on <strong>06-04-2010, 20:49:18</strong>
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				Yousef pressed his sync and then slipped the shades over his eyes, inhaling deeply on the cig it lit up, causing the polarizer to glare slightly before dampening it.<br><br>"Harry, you know I could never be with the Major.&nbsp; Her balls are bigger than mine, what would I do with them?" he quipped around the cig.&nbsp; He recalled the job in Pusan, a salvaged Hind bearing down on him piloted by Yakuza looking to support their artifact smuggling.&nbsp; She had stood over him, firing at the pilot with a picked up AK and cursing the whole time, while he hunkered over two small children caught in the crossfire, praying his armour would at least keep the rounds from going all the way through him to them.&nbsp; He had never been so turned on in his life than when she did that.&nbsp; He marveled a second at why he never made a real pass at her... sure he had made the sexist jokes and what not, taken the punches she had given him and laughed it off, but never for real.&nbsp; Part of him was afraid, afraid of caring for this tiger in disguise, afraid of admitting to anyone that he needed someone.&nbsp; The rest of him said that it was because he didn't want to be tied down and settled in, a cushy desk job and white picket fence... He knew this last bit was a joke and the former the truth.&nbsp; He wanted to settle down if that is what she wanted.&nbsp; He wanted to take her in his arms and tell her no more women and whores... unless she wanted them too.&nbsp; He wanted to tell her all of these things and more... But he was afraid.&nbsp; But most importantly he just wanted to be near her.&nbsp; Even six months ago when he was offered to join Christof's advance team, he had told him no... At this moment he realized that if he had, he might be the one being revenged right now.&nbsp; He remembered his last conversation with Jenny only a couple of days ago... she had told him to keep her bed warm... and the swing ready.&nbsp; Marcus made him promise not to party too hard without him...&nbsp; &nbsp;Part of him wanted to run and cry in a hole, but that part was long buried by the killer he was.&nbsp; He finished his sync check and leaned back, his thoughts a fleeting flicker in his pupils, cleverly hidden by the glasses.<br><br>"100% sync Harry and the Hendersons."
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>KittyRivera</strong> on <strong>06-04-2010, 21:32:27</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				She craned around to see Harry climbing in the back of the van.&nbsp; "I see the two lovebirds thought they could slip out without me." he quipped, and she grinned widely, cuffing him across the shoulder lightly. "Captain Doyle, about time." She reopened her locker and rummaged through the containers, finally closing her fingers around her hack card which she tucked into one of her socks.<br><br>"Harry, you know I could never be with the Major.&nbsp; Her balls are bigger than mine, what would I do with them?" She snorted broadly "Take a picture, so you'll finally know what balls look like."&nbsp; This drew a wide grin from Gabriel as he took a swig from his canteen. She'd traded her fair share of jokes from the squad, but in the end, the mutual respect and bond they had developed over the years made them the best team Trionfo had. <br><br>"It would seem the Vatican archives have no sense of Swiftness in their action." Harry mused quietly, and she shrugged, shaking her head. "Red tape. You taking over for Gabe?" She flicked her head towards the extop, who had stood respectfully and allowed Harry to sit in the extop command chair of the van. Guess that answered her question. Two extops today. Looks like Masino anticipated trouble.<br><br>"Oh and Yousef, sync your shades with my suit, won't provide the full package but should keep tactical data relay even when we go off grid... I might even be able to Circumvent the enemy's information systems and feed you data through there." Gabe sat down in the second extop seat, typing in his passcode to access the backup systems.&nbsp; "Uplink with the Major's 97%, good signal strength. Critical systems normal." Gabe's fingers flew over the keys, his eyes locked intensely on the screen.<br><br>"100% sync Harry and the Hendersons." Yousef said from somewhere in the van. Mea was face deep in her locker.<br><br>"Turn the speaker volume up, Major," Gabe turned in the swiveling chair and tossed the Major a canteen, which she barely caught in time before it dropped. "I can't get your voice clear enough through the snow."&nbsp; Mea nodded, digging two fingers into the snug throat of her biosuit to find the volume control. "How's that?"<br><br>The extop was all business. "Good. Okay. All set. Masino left a car for you two in the back parking lot, you'll be taking a private plane to Atlanta, Georgia, your flight leaves in fourty five. I suggest you two doublecheck your gear, since the van won't be going with you."<br><br><br><br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Xiddeus</strong> on <strong>07-04-2010, 20:59:44</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"Good. Okay. All set. Masino left a car for you two in the back parking lot, you'll be taking a private plane to Atlanta, Georgia, your flight leaves in fourty five. I suggest you two doublecheck your gear, since the van won't be going with you."<br><br>"Ok, Boss. You show me yours I'll show you mine!" He joked but seriously did begin a check of her gear, her armour straps snug and any other items that she might be missing.&nbsp; Hell, after this long he memorized all of her equipment and how it was supposed to be, not to mention her measurements.&nbsp; It was an age old backup check that every team did as a body could miss what they normally thought was there, being creatures of habit. <br><br>&nbsp;"So Major, Private Plane, should I bring my trunks for the Hotel in Atlanta, or would you prefer I just went 'commando', maybe we should hit up the Casinos?&nbsp; I bet the floor show will be great."&nbsp; He grinned his stupid grin and thought about maybe telling her how he really felt about her on the plane, the fact that someone took out Christoph's team weighing heavily in the back of his mind... Dead.&nbsp; He couldn't shake that fact this time.&nbsp; He had faced death so many times and hardly ever came out unscathed, but still, an entire team.&nbsp; Fear gripped him and his heart nearly jumped.&nbsp; He knew he should tell her.&nbsp; To come clean, but he didn't know if that would really make it all better, make them stronger or weaker.&nbsp; He didn't know how she would react.&nbsp; Damnit man, you are like the schoolboy who is trying to get his first date.&nbsp; He didn't realize he had left his index finger hooked through her vest maybe a second to long while he thought.&nbsp; 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>KittyRivera</strong> on <strong>08-04-2010, 00:34:41</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"Ok, Boss. You show me yours I'll show you mine!" Yousef quipped, his accent thick with humor. She tried to pin him with a frosty look, but her lips twisted into a half-smile, so she craned her head to the side so that the Captain could begin checking her gear. Mic control, headset, VISOR, utility belt, rope, gun, ammo, leg guard straps...she had never quite gotten used to him practically fondling every inch of her body even though they had been through this routine dozens of times. She shifted uncomfortably when he was crouched to check the bottom of her ninja socks for tears and misrepair, holding onto the locker beside her for balance. He stood, absently adjusting her vest straps. Then, he seemed to still, leaving his hand above her ribcage. For a second, tense silence stretched, then she cleared her throat to try and rouse him from his wool gathering.<br><br>Smoothing back a strand of hair from her face "Suggestions, Captain?"<br><br>&nbsp;"So Major, Private Plane, should I bring my trunks for the Hotel in Atlanta, or would you prefer I just went 'commando', maybe we should hit up the Casinos?&nbsp; I bet the floor show will be great." She rolled her eyes comically "That's not what I meant." But apparently, her gear checked out okay, so she motioned for him to stand still so that she could check his.<br><br>The biosuit was fine, but seemed a little snug, like he had been gaining weight recently. She couldn't quite get two fingers in the throat to check his volume control. "Been hitting the gym recently, Captain? You'll have to get fitted for another suit if you don't lay off the free weights."&nbsp; The cord was intact and his uplink was optimal, so she checked his vest straps, smoothing them snugly around his ribs. She crouched, trying NOT to be aware of the fact that his groin was inches from her face, and checked the straps of his leg guards. The right thigh was a little loose, so she adjusted it carefully so as not to pinch him. His utility belt was full of gadgets, but he didn't anticipate needing a rope. That was fine, she had one and it would easily carry both their weight. She didn't notice a gun in his holster, but looked over at the locker and saw his lying on the tabletop, ammo ready. He probably hadn't holstered it before gear check.<br><br>His boots were good, if a little worn. She'd report to Masino that he be issued a new pair soon.<br><br>"Gear optimal, Captain. Ready to go."<br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Xiddeus</strong> on <strong>08-04-2010, 04:16:31</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Yousef always loved it when she checked his leg armour, he wondered if she caught on that he never failed to leave one slightly loose, or too tight.&nbsp; He grinned mischieviously at his next line, but figured it was too easy.&nbsp; Her head near his crotch, helping him out with his leg.&nbsp; Yeah, too easy, leave that one alone Yousef.&nbsp; He knew the plane would probably be a C130 or something of that nature, not a sporty sleek private jet that his imagination ran wild with.&nbsp; Their stay in Atlanta would be filled with violence and mayhem, not the beautiful rooms with mirrors on the ceilings and champagne on ice that he dreamed it was.&nbsp; His thoughts turned back to the Major, imagining her in a bikini sitting by the pool as a muscular young man brought her a MaiTai, flirting gregariously with the hot little number.&nbsp; He imagined himself, slowly coming up out of the water, scars plainly visible to all and gathering her up in his stonger more manly arms, 'Sorry kid, can't play anymore, got grownup things to do!' as he carried her away to their room.&nbsp; <br><br>He remembered how it had been that night near Kiev, cold, wet, but she had come to him after he had dug the bullet out of her shoulder, one he still kept with him to this day, reminding him that he nearly lost her that day.&nbsp; He could still feel her feverish body upon him, his own concussion and wounds taking their toll, but he had stayed guard, waiting for the sniper to move.&nbsp; He had waited in vain for that man that day.&nbsp; He could still feel her lips touch his.&nbsp; He normally didn't dig the whole space cadet thing, but she was an exceptionally strong woman, even in her state she was forceful.&nbsp; Apparently, she was used to command and almost ordered him to take her... But it was when she said please, in that particular tone that he knew she meant it.&nbsp; He was saddened that she could not remember afterwards, or at least pretending not to.&nbsp; It had cut him to the bone to hear her say she had no recollection of the events after the avalanche caused by the sniper.&nbsp; He had taken his vacation that very next week, traveling back to Kiev and hunting for the sniper he knew would still be in the area.&nbsp; He recalled finally allowing the man to die before he returned home.<br><br>He noticed his Desert Eagle was still on the locker top.&nbsp; Curiously, he picked it back up.&nbsp; See Yousef, this is why you don't get involved.&nbsp; Look you almost left this here.&nbsp; He holstered his weapon and looked around for anything else he might have missed.<br><br>"Hey Boss, Can I drive the car? I can drive.&nbsp; I'm an excellent driver.&nbsp; I'm not wearing any underpants." he wondered quickly after if she would get the movie reference or just shoot him another of her deadly glares.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>KittyRivera</strong> on <strong>08-04-2010, 07:10:45</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				She closed her locker and rolled her shoulders to loosen them. She was growing more tense by the second, the before-battle butterflies that all agents must feel. Like a performer with stage fright, it sharpened her senses and made her all too aware of the fact that each one of her missions was a time where she might not be getting back home.<br><br>"Hey Boss, Can I drive the car? I can drive.&nbsp; I'm an excellent driver.&nbsp; I'm not wearing any underpants."<br><br>She pointedly ignored his comment, digging the keys out of her vest pocket and offering them to him. She didn't mind him driving, he did most of the time anyway, unless he was injured or sleeping.<br><br>"Captain Doyle, the uplink might get a little choppy midflight, so you might want to make sure the satellites are synched well before we take off, so the gps is accurate."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Geradine</strong> on <strong>09-04-2010, 05:31:43</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"trying to leave without me, i see." Gerad poked his head through the van door. "good thing i don't have much to check..." Gerad stepped into the van, revealing an athletic build covered by the lightest armor available while still being protective. the only oddity to it was the mesh that covered every inch that could be used to create a kind of ghillie suit on the fly. "my scope's polished and my rifle's clean, so i'm ready when you are." Gerad absent-mindedly pushed his glasses back up higher on his nose.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>KittyRivera</strong> on <strong>09-04-2010, 13:15:32</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"Trying to leave without me, I see...Good thing I don't have much to check..."&nbsp; Mea put her hand on the top of the van roof to keep herself from smashing into Gerad as he unexpectedly popped in.&nbsp; "Jeeze, watch it!" She said, grinning. Twisting herself sideways to get around him, she hopped out of the back of the van, smoothing her hair reflexively, and dug out a pair of sunglasses from one of her utility pockets.&nbsp; "Captain Doyle and Gabriel are extop today. Tank's driving. This is going to be a strictly indoors mission, so you won't need to bring your rifle. Take a pistol instead. We might be up close and personal...unfortunately. Where's your VISOR?"<br><br>The VISOR (Visual Imput, Synchronous Orbit Relay) was a brilliant piece of technology. A thin plasticine square was connected to a lightweight and comfortable earpiece, which was linked wirelessly by satellite to the extop's computers. They could feed almost any sort of information through the HUD,&nbsp; from hacking codes to enemy heat signatures, 3-D blueprints, vital signs of other teammates, security laser paths, and any information accessible via the internet. Without the VISOR, Trionfo's agents would be going into their missions running blind. Without the VISOR, there would be no Trionfo.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Geradine</strong> on <strong>09-04-2010, 14:15:45</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				nimbly contorting his body to avoid a collision with Mea, Gerad taps his ear. "right here." Mea looks closer and finds that his visor is attatched to his glasses, allowing his glasses to act in the same way as Yousef's shades. Gerad grabs a small field mod kit for his M9 pistol. he quickly and efficently pulls out a 5x zoom scope, red dot sight, and a silencer and checks to make sure all are in working order and clean, before returning them to the kit and fastening it to the right side of his utility belt. the entire process took 2 minutes. "well, this should be fun if Yousef's driving...again." Geread smirked slightly as he looked over at Yousef. "planning on any more offroad endevors this trip?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Xiddeus</strong> on <strong>09-04-2010, 16:37:07</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"I don't know, that depends on if there are any pretty girls along the way." Yousef quipped at Gerad.&nbsp; He hopped down next to Mea and dropped the spent cig onto the parking lot, his boot crushing it as he landed.&nbsp; "And Harry, don't forget to take out the trash, walk the dog and feed the fish." He pulled another from the pack in his pocket, lighting it in the same manner. "Oh, and one more thing..." He inhaled deeply. "No bitches after eleven, your mother and I will only be gone for a week so be a good boy and don't disturb the neighbors."<br><br>He walked away and toward the little economy car that he knew would be theirs.&nbsp; Gerad was a good soldier and an excellent sniper.&nbsp; He knew how to keep his head down and his scope clear, although he was unafraid to take the close shots, and he felt his ear still certain that part of it was gone but finding it whole.&nbsp; He trusted him at range, but up close... well, snipers almost always prefer to avoid that and Yousef thought that maybe a pistol would not be enough.&nbsp; He stopped at the Fiat Punto and wondered how the Pope, one of the richest and most powerful men in the world, would only give them tiny little cars, albeit a 4 seater.&nbsp; He touched his subvocalizer and spoke.<br><br>"Forward to XT. Forward to XT.&nbsp; I am at the vehicle and it is clear of hostiles, though the Major is approaching from behind and could go Code Red at any second, repeat No hostiles but situation Orange... And tell Gerad the G18 autopistol is in my locker and could be a good second for him." 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Geradine</strong> on <strong>09-04-2010, 22:59:22</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"XT to Gerad, Yousef says the G18 is in his locker and might be a good second for you" Gerad quirks an eyebrow at the possible implications of that&nbsp; statement, not the least being against his combat prowess. "thanks but no thanks, XT. i'll do fine with my pistol. feel free to relay that if you wish." Gerad was more than certain that his pistol had enough power for the job, and with his accuracy, it was more or less guarenteed to get him 14 kills before having to reload, leaving one bullet in the chamber to prevent re-cocking the pistol. Gerad falls in behind Mea and Yousef, walking towards the car.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>KittyRivera</strong> on <strong>10-04-2010, 01:53:03</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Mea stood beside the car until Yousef unlocked it, then climbed into the back seat and buckled herself in. After the boys piled themselves in, the car was ridiculously crowded and highly claustrophobic.&nbsp; "Four adults in this tiny little...." she muttered sourly, digging into one of her utility pouches for her chapstick. She'll have to talk to Masino about getting them a bigger transport. Tank, just by himself, was nearly big enough to fill up the front seat alone, not to mention the other well-built and athletic team members. Except for her. Sometimes being 5'3 was useful.<br><br>"Tank...Stop by the gas station on the corner, I want to get another bottle of water before we leave. And put out that <em>damn</em> cigarette. If Masino finds out you smoked in his car, he'll kill us both."<br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Xiddeus</strong> on <strong>10-04-2010, 02:20:16</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"So, this is his car?&nbsp; Better take good care of it, eh?" a mischievious smile played at his lips, before he opened his mouth wide to roll the cig back on his tongue.&nbsp; He turned the ignition over and revved the little 4cylinder to its limit.&nbsp; As soon as Gerad had clicked his buckle, Yousef popped the clutch and let the front tires kick loose a bit before they gained traction, and the car lurched forward slowly.&nbsp; He swung out into traffic quickly and recklessly gunning his way down the narrow street, cycling gears as quickly as the tiny car would allow.&nbsp; Pulling the E-brake and downshifting, he slid the car into a drift around a corner and braked hard so the car spun into the parking lot of the local station.&nbsp; He put it in reverse and stuck the bubblegum package of a vehicle into a spot.&nbsp; He grinned at everyone before hopping out and heading in to grab a bottle of Vodka. <br><br>He ignored the gaping look of the worker behind the counter and rolled his cig back out to take a couple of puffs.&nbsp; He spotted a good brand of cheap vodka and snagged it. At the counter he dropped a few Euro and pointed at a pack of Marlboro Reds.&nbsp; He put the pack in his pocket and walked back to the car, waiting for everyone to get situated before getting in, once more rolling the cig back into his mouth.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>KittyRivera</strong> on <strong>10-04-2010, 02:41:37</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				They were all so used to Yousef's reckless driving that no one spoke a word about it, although Mea's face looked like she was sucking a lemon the entire time. They couldn't do the mission if they were -dead-. But it was like talking to a wall.&nbsp; <br><br>She unbuckled her seatbelt as soon as they were parked, following the Captain into the convenience store. Selecting a bottle of water from the refrigerated shelves, she paid for it with her credit card, and made it back to the car before Yousef did. But, trouble was brewing up ahead.<br><br>As soon as Yousef exited, she confronted him at the car, poking him in the chest with a stiff finger. "What the <em>fuck</em>, Tank, a bottle of fucking <em>VODKA</em>? You won't be opening that until after the mission. <em>AFTER</em>...the mission is done. Am I clear, soldier? I won't have your drunk ass killed just because you're pissed that Christoph's dead and can't face your own damn emotions like a grown man!"<br><br>She realized as soon as the words left her mouth that she was being too hard on him. She stepped back a pace. her hand falling to her side. For a moment, she stared up at his face, regret coloring her expression. "....Just don't drink while we're active. And not on the plane, either. Okay?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Xiddeus</strong> on <strong>10-04-2010, 02:53:37</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Tank didn't know what to say, he and Marcus had always snuck one with them, but he had forgotten this time.&nbsp; He didn't think that the news had hit him that hard.&nbsp; But it was her expression after that really struck him.&nbsp; He was speechless for the second time in his life... <br><br>"For Marcus." was all he said.&nbsp; He put the bottle in his pack and decided he would hide it in his canteen later.&nbsp; "Major... I... " Tell her Yousef.&nbsp; Get it off your chest. "I, think that I lost something."&nbsp; Go on you big dumb brick. "I lost something very important to me."&nbsp; Tell her how you feel and finally take her in your arms, at least with her knowing you can go on.&nbsp; Advance team is dead an you need to come clean about your feelings.&nbsp; He waited breathing shallowly as he thought.&nbsp; Since Pusan you wanted her, and since Kiev you have loved her.&nbsp; Tell HER YOU STUPID FUCK!&nbsp; <br><br>He breathed deep.&nbsp; "I LOST MY BEACHBALL!!! ITS ABOUT THIS BIG!!" he struck a muscly pose and flexed his arms in front of him a round shape made between them. "IS IT... OVER THERE?!"&nbsp; and he changed positions, making the gun show to the west.&nbsp; "MAYBE IT WENT OVER THERE!!" and he pointed east.&nbsp; Laughing hard he dropped his arms and waited for the punch.&nbsp; <br><br>Moron, he thought, no, you are a coward, Yousef Ahmoud.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Geradine</strong> on <strong>10-04-2010, 03:57:23</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Yousef and Mea blinked in suprise as Gerad squeezed his way in between them. "i know their deaths hit you <em>both</em> hard, because it's hit me hard, too. so, please, lets not kill each other before the mission even starts, ok?" Gerad pushed his glasses back up onto his nose, as they had shifted a little too low with his mad dash across the lot. "you can go at each other after we kill the people responsible for the deaths of our friends. but not before. it would kinda suck to go this without backup." Gerad smirked slightly, hoping like hell he hadn't switched Mea's target to him, but willing to take the hit for Yousef if he did.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>KittyRivera</strong> on <strong>10-04-2010, 04:40:13</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"For Marcus." Tank looked like he had just been dipped in bleach. She hadn't seen him that pale in a while. "Major... I... I, think that I lost something."&nbsp; <br><br>Her brows furrowed "What?"<br><br>"I lost something very important to me." She shook her head "What did you lose?"<br><br>"I LOST MY BEACHBALL!!! ITS ABOUT THIS BIG!!"&nbsp; He posed like some juiced up musclehead, flexing like he wanted to bust out of his biosuit. "IS IT... OVER THERE?! MAYBE IT WENT OVER THERE!!"<br><br>Before she could open her mouth to say anything, Gerad angled between them, making her take a step back. She needed to have a talk to him about personal space, apparently.&nbsp; "I know their deaths hit you both hard, because it's hit me hard, too. So, please, lets not kill each other before the mission even starts, okay? You can go at each other after we kill the people responsible for the deaths of our friends, but not before. It would kinda suck to go this without backup."&nbsp; Their expressions were mocking. It infuriated her. How could they mess around at a time like this?<br><br>A muscle in her jaw flexed as she gritted her teeth, her eyes daggers.<br><br>"Fuck you."&nbsp; She growled at both soldiers, and stalked back around to the passenger side, slamming the door.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>KittyRivera</strong> on <strong>10-04-2010, 04:40:54</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				((Doublepost, sorry))
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Geradine</strong> on <strong>10-04-2010, 04:43:25</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Gerad winced slightly at the slamming door, and turned slightly to Yousef. "i can already tell this is going to be a fun mission..." Gerad went and got back into the backseat, seeming slightly smaller than when he had stepped between Mea and Yousef, but still focused on what lied ahead, not what had just happened.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Xiddeus</strong> on <strong>10-04-2010, 19:52:40</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Yousef's a coward! Yousef's a coward, nanny nanny boo boo, his inner monologue mocked him much the way he mocked the world.&nbsp; At least he got the look he knew he would.&nbsp; He put it in first and drove on toward the airport.&nbsp; <br><br>"Oh, Major, with promises like that I am thinking that you are liking the gun show."&nbsp; he quipped as he flexed his bicep while he shifted.&nbsp; "Gerad does, look at him stare."&nbsp; he laughed hard trying to rid his mind of the thought that just would not die in his head... Die... It stuck there again. He didn't know how to stop thoughts like these.&nbsp; He didn't know what to say or do.&nbsp; It seemed to override his entire life.&nbsp; Die.&nbsp; To die.&nbsp; Dead. Death.&nbsp; The word ran through his head like a mobia strip.&nbsp; "So, what is in Atlanta again?"&nbsp; you forgot? Seriously? 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>KittyRivera</strong> on <strong>11-04-2010, 03:33:53</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				They piled back into the coffin on wheels. "Oh, Major, with promises like that I am thinking that you are liking the gun show." Yousef quipped. Mea pointedly ignored him, her face like colorless stone. She was in the back seat again, arms and legs crossed protectively over herself. This wasn't going to be a good mission if Yousef didn't straighten the hell up. Mea promised herself that one more joke, and she was sending him back to the van.<br><br>She was sick of him stressing her out, and she needed to be focused, not pissed, to make it on this mission. There was a high probability that they could all end up killed, and he wasn't helping the situation at all. She'd never seen him like this, he was acting out like a spoiled, self-absorbed child!<br><br>"Gerad does, look at him stare."&nbsp; He broke down into hysterical laughter while Mea burned holes in the glass window with her eyes.<br><br>Finally, he straightened up. "So, what is in Atlanta again?"<br><br>A muscle in her jaw clenched. Her voice was impassive, emotionless. "The first objective. According to the case file, there's an ex-Illuminati member staying in Atlanta under witness protection who can help us get into their HQ. He used to be one of their extops. Masino said that he left the Illuminati due to some...rather underhanded practices that he didn't morally agree with. They don't let their agents go, especially an agent with as much experience as he had...so he fled back to the States, went to the US Marshals. In exchange for information he got amnesty and a new identity."&nbsp; She opened one of her utility pouches, digging out a stick of bubblegum, and popped it into her mouth.&nbsp; "Masino contacted the Marshals when Strazzi went rouge, thinking that perhaps they knew of his whereabouts. They've been working on the case in the States since last month." She blew a large bubble, then sucked it back into her mouth and popped it three times.&nbsp; "They've agreed to work with us in the US in order to catch Strazzi before...anything else happens."<br><br>They were nearing the airport. She leaned forward, pointing to a turn "Take a left here, it'll get you through traffic faster."<br><br><br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Geradine</strong> on <strong>12-04-2010, 10:46:45</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"it's been a while since i've been stateside." Gerad seemed to come back to himself. he pulled his combat knife, which was slightly smaller than the average combat knife, maybe 5 inches, and tested it's sharpness on a piece of paper. this was admittedly a dangerous thing to do in a small car, with a maniac at the wheel, but Gerad kept the knife steady as it sliced clean through the piece of paper. that done, he quickly re-sheathed it and strapped it onto the side of his leg, it being the most convinient place to put it.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Xiddeus</strong> on <strong>12-04-2010, 15:44:53</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"Jenny and I went there last year.&nbsp; The Adirondacks.&nbsp; Pretty mountains."&nbsp; Yousef stated simply, almost quietly, as if afraid to reveal such information to them.&nbsp; He actually eased the car into the turn and only mildly gunned it after.&nbsp; He knew when he had pushed too far with the Major and did not want a repeat of the last time he had, Gabe smelled funny after a while.&nbsp; Must be his breath or something, those weird chips he ate.&nbsp; He guided the car around a few more turns as this way seemed to be of mostly side streets, and quickly the airport came into view.&nbsp; "See, I no kill you two again, every time safe and sound to our destination."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>KittyRivera</strong> on <strong>12-04-2010, 16:16:49</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				She climbed out, thanking Gerad when he held the seat up for her.&nbsp; She adjusted her vest to a more smooth angle, drawing in a steadying breath that was more than a little grateful to be out of the car.&nbsp; After Yousef opened the trunk, she withdrew her overnight bag and her backpack, slinging both over her shoulder. "There's gonna be a couple of stopovers. Here to Madrid, and there to New York, and then to Georgia. It'll be about a 20 hour flight, so I hope you boys packed your PJs."<br><br>A security guard met them breathlessly at the gate.&nbsp; "Can I see some ID, please?"&nbsp; He was pudgy around the middle, red faced from his jog. Not good meat to have security in an airport, even a small one.<br><br>Mea opened her badge that she had on a chain around her neck "Major Mea Vanni, Trionfo Security Inc." The guard squinted at her ID "Oh, yeah. Right, the jet's all ready for your crew. Have a nice flight, Major."&nbsp; She nodded briskly at him, and strode towards the plane's boarding stairs. All business.<br><br>She was looking forward to getting some shut eye aboard the plane. The video conference with Masino to check on the Vatican's progress on finding Strazzi was going to be stressful enough, mercifully enough she wouldn't have to deal with it til they were in New York.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Xiddeus</strong> on <strong>12-04-2010, 19:59:04</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Yousef tossed Gerad his bag and snagged his own before slapping the trunk shut.&nbsp; He spat out the dead cig in his mouth and lit up another one, his chain would continue until he found himself in an area where he could not.&nbsp; He grinned at the guard and marched past him like he didn't exist.&nbsp; By the time he made it to the plane, his cig was done and he let it fall to the tarmac.&nbsp; He was mildly surprised to find actual seats inside, having expected a DC130 or some other ancient boat.&nbsp; But Masino apparently wanted them there quickly.&nbsp; <br><br>He tapped his bead and asked Harry for a set up of the building.&nbsp; He needed to know where any entrances and exits were should things go bad on this babysitting job. <br>"Grab the package. Mobilize the package. Deliver the package.&nbsp; End mission." he simplified the entire mission to himself.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Geradine</strong> on <strong>13-04-2010, 08:15:36</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Gerad immediatly moved to the table near the rear of the small business liner, and unloaded his weapon kit, and set his gun down onto the table. he dismantled the M9 with practiced ease, removed every bullet from <em>all</em> of his clips, and set to making sure his gun, ammo, and accesories were clean and in perfect working order. he wasn't suprised when Yousef took a seat across from him and proceeded to do the same with his equipment.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>KittyRivera</strong> on <strong>13-04-2010, 10:33:10</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Mea headed towards the back of the jet, where fold out beds were waiting for them. She set her overnight bag on one of them, excused herself to the bathroom, then raided the minibar for a fresh bottle of water.<br><br>The pilot came over the intercom. "Welcome aboard, everyone. My name's Paul and I'll be your pilot today. It's sunny and warm all the way to Madrid, and it'll be about a two hour flight. Please direct any questions you may have to our flight attends, who can help you with anything you need."&nbsp; Mea went back into the main cabin and joined Gerad and Yousef at the table, unholstering her nine and field stripping it. After examining every part for defects or grime, she reassembled it swiftly, and tucked the ammo clips back into her utility belt.&nbsp; She looked over at one of the flight attendants, asking "Can I get a tissue, please?"&nbsp; The stewardess fetched one from a cabinet in the wall, and Mea spit her gum out in it, throwing it into a nearby trash can.&nbsp; Crossing her arms behind her head, she leaned back in the seat, eyeing the boys.&nbsp; "Masino will contact us for a video conference when we get to New York. Don't stay up all night, and don't get drunk...we'll be leaving directly from the Atlanta airport to the informant's condo and I need you both sharp."<br><br>Back to the stewardess, she requested a grilled chicken salad, sans dressing, and stood up from the table. "I'm going to get changed." 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Xiddeus</strong> on <strong>13-04-2010, 16:53:30</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Yousef stared out the window as the plane sped down the runway and took to the air.&nbsp; He didn't speak and he didn't joke.&nbsp; He just stared outward as he blindly field stripped his Scar and D.E.&nbsp; No quips came to mind as his fingers and hands moved of their own accord.&nbsp; He stopped a second and pulled out a can of snuff.&nbsp; He pinched a small plug and placed it in his cheek.&nbsp; All that rolled through his mind was what he was going to do when he found out who it was that killed his friends.&nbsp; He thought about Christoph and how he needed to go see Wendolyne and the kids.&nbsp; He thought about the chick Marcus was always going to see and give her a memento he still carried from him.&nbsp; He thought about Jenny's mom and David's pops.&nbsp; He wondered if he would even get the chance.&nbsp; He heard his hammer slam down and looked at it.&nbsp; He was finished.&nbsp; Not even a piece missing or left out.&nbsp; His tray was clear and his rifle and pistol both cycled perfectly.&nbsp; He shotgunned the bolt on his rifle and leaned it next to him as he returned his still shaded face to the window and the world that passed them by outside.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>KittyRivera</strong> on <strong>16-04-2010, 06:34:56</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Emerging a few minutes later with her laptop, the Major sat down on one of the reclining seats and tucked her legs under her comfortably, taking the salad that a flight attendant offered her on a tray.&nbsp; She had shed her military gear, changing into a brown wrap shirt and cream satin yoga pants, her pedicured feet bare except for a silver toe ring. Opening the laptop, she studiously began typing, her fingers swiftly moving over the keys in quiet studiousness. "According to the case file the Marshals sent us, the informant was an Illuminati extop for nine years.&nbsp; He had been out for almost two years when Strazzi defected, but according to them, the plan to raid the Vault had been in the works for nearly thirty years."<br><br>She was just a child when this ugliness began. "The informant said that he had been working with a team in the Illunimati to try and bribe one of the prefects to defect for some time, but didn't have any success until they managed to infiltrate the Vatican ranks with one of their own. Strazzi apparently was an Illunimati spy from the start."&nbsp; Which meant...only God knew what else was taken from the Vault.&nbsp; She liberally salted and peppered the salad, squeezing a lemon wedge over the lettuce for flavor, and then stabbed her fork into it. Chewing, she mumbled "The Marshals think he can be trusted." the tone in her voice clearly stated that she didn't agree.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Xiddeus</strong> on <strong>16-04-2010, 17:31:08</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Yousef snagged a slice of pizza from the tray, and rolling it up he stuffed the entire slice into his large mouth.&nbsp; Looking at the other two with innocence he merely asked "What?" though it was quite muffled by the pizza that still stuck out slightly.&nbsp; He chewed as he listened to Mea go over the dossier again and other pertinent info, and as she mumbled to herself, he found himself agreeing.&nbsp; Swallowing he finally spoke, "So, what, we snag the package.&nbsp; And instead of delivery, we pry any loose info from it instead?"&nbsp; he almost grinned about the idea of 'interrogating' the snitch, but knew that he was all blunt force trauma, and that he should leave such delicate matters to others.&nbsp; But that didn't mean it wasn't fun to try, so he just snagged another slice and repeated his process.&nbsp; Tasting a familiar flavor he looked down at his hands and noticed they were still covered in gun oil... oh, so that is why it tasted funny...&nbsp; He shrugged and wiped them semi-clean with a napkin.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>KittyRivera</strong> on <strong>16-04-2010, 19:44:27</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				She had looked up from the laptop screen just in time to witness Yousef cram an entire slice of pizza into his gigantic Steven Tyler mouth.<br><br>She gaped at him open-mouthed, fork hovering mid-air while the lettuce drooped on it's tines.<br><br>"Murf?" He managed to look surprised as the team stared at him.&nbsp; Mea rolled her eyes back to the screen, unceremoniously shoving the fork into her mouth. *Geeze, what a pig* she thought. <br><br>"So, what, we snag the package.&nbsp; And instead of delivery, we pry any loose info from it instead?"&nbsp; Mea rolled her eyes again. "No, you barbarian. He got in touch with the Federal Marshals willingly. He's working with us."&nbsp; There was a good reason everyone called him "Tank"...he tended to bulldoze his way into things without listening much.<br><br>Then again, he's taken more bullets for Trionfo than even Mea had, and still managed to walk without a limp. So, his strength and brutishness wasn't always a flaw. Mea watched, disgust and her attempt not to laugh curling the corners of her lips, as he stuffed another whole slice into his gullet.<br><br>"Try chewing for once. You might enjoy it." she quipped, grinning broadly.<br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Xiddeus</strong> on <strong>16-04-2010, 20:23:33</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				He gulped and looked at Mea.&nbsp; "Chew... it never occurred to me..." and laughed at his own joke.&nbsp; He ate big, he drank a lot, smoked a lot, and did lots of other things in excess.&nbsp; Looking back, he felt like he was always pushing the envelope, trying to cheat death at every turn.&nbsp; Maybe, maybe, he should stop smoking.&nbsp; It is a start.&nbsp; Maybe I should drink less... he thought.&nbsp; He thought about all of his years under fire and wondered if maybe, this time the bullet would bite him.&nbsp; It was the same thought he had before every mission, but still, he always, most always, walked back after.&nbsp; He picked up one more slice and bit it daintily, his pinky finger pointing straight out as he did so, napkin in his other hand and dabbed at his lower lip after.<br><br>"Gerad, you not eating?" and slyly started to pull at his plate, watching for the reaction, his mischievous twinkle returning to his eyes.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Geradine</strong> on <strong>16-04-2010, 23:30:27</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"what? oh..." gerad shook his head and looked at his plate. "spacing out i guess. sorry." he then proceeded to eat his lasagna quickly, shoving large portions into his mouth <em>without</em> getting any sauce anywhere and actually chewing as he did so. he then snagged a bottle of doctor pepper and started to slowly drink. he muffled a burp. "scusi. so, what are our exact plans when we reach stateside? i assume we're going to be landing in new york after madrid, before meeting the Marshals." Gerad looked at Mea and Yousef.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>KittyRivera</strong> on <strong>22-04-2010, 13:41:17</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"So, what are our exact plans when we reach stateside? I assume we're going to be landing in new york after Madrid, before meeting the Marshals."<br><br>Mea nodded at Gerad, taking a sip from her water bottle. "I just got an Email from Father Masino saying that there'll be a short stopover in New York to pick up someone who'll be working with us. "Marcus Valentine", American ex-Marine.&nbsp; He's a small arms and bladed weapons expert, with battlefield experience. According to Masino, that'll help round out or team should any...unexpected surprises pop up."&nbsp; She cocked her head at the screen. "He's cute for a blond."&nbsp; She glanced over at the boys, grinning broadly "Anyway, after we pick up Valentine, we'll be heading straight to Atlanta to interrogate the Illuminati defector. It'll be a long night to New York, so I suggest you boys get some shut eye later. I doubt any of us will be sleeping safely for the next few weeks."<br><br>Mea closed her laptop and tucked it under her arm. "I'm going to hit the gym. Any takers?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Xiddeus</strong> on <strong>22-04-2010, 18:25:13</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Yousef stood and stretched, flexing his impressive bulk as he did so.&nbsp; "Sure, I could use a real workout after all the Performance Enhancement Steroids you gave me."&nbsp; He moved back to the tiny excuse for a gym they had on the plane and groaned as he noticed that there were no free weights.&nbsp; He needed to workout anyway, he knew the exercise would at least occupy his mind and let it free itself for the mission at hand.&nbsp; He thought about what Mea said about the new guy and found himself not liking him... and then thinking about it not really knowing why he would think such a thing.&nbsp; &nbsp;Yousef, calm down.&nbsp; She has forgotten and you are trying to be like the school boy with crush.&nbsp; Let it go and get to work.&nbsp; She is out of your league.&nbsp; He sighed at his thoughts and covered it with a stretch as he pulled off his blouse and gear, down to his undershirt and combat pants and boots.&nbsp; He never tried to be less than half battle ready at any time, even his weapon not getting stowed away as he set it off to the side.&nbsp; Checking the clip on his hand cannon he placed it within easy reach, his paranoia evident from his Mossad days.<br><br>Walking up to treadmill he thought about it and then started to stretch his legs, bending over completely to touch his toes.&nbsp; 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Cameron182</strong> on <strong>23-04-2010, 00:31:43</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Marcus Valentine stood alone on the tarmac, awaiting the arrival of what would be his new teammates. He still wasn't entirely sure how he felt about having a new set of people he'd have to trust his life with, but it really didn't seem like he had much of a choice in the situation. He knew he couldn't live the 'lone wolf' lifestyle forever, and this was a cause that needed his help, he had no choice but to suck it up and put his past experiences behind him. He was dressed in the closest thing he'd worn to military attire in over a year, a form-fitting black t-shirt with the letters "USMC" on the back and baggy, oversized camo pants, with thick black combat boots. He reached up to run a hand through his short, spikey blonde hair as he shifted the weight of the duffel bag hanging over his right shoulder. On first glance it didn't seem like he was armed with anything more than a single long sword that rested in an intricately designed sheathe hanging across his back, but in reality Marcus had a plethora of weapons stashed in various parts of his clothing. Several small throwing knives were stashed in several barely noticeable pockets running the length of his legs, as well as a set of curved daggers resting in partially concealed hip sheathes, not to mention the small handguns strapped to the outside of his calf muscles. One could never be too prepared....<br><br>He brought the partially burned cigarette in his right hand up to his lips, taking in a deep drag and letting the harsh yet delicious taste roll through his lungs before he exhaled the toxic treat into the air around him. Icey blue eyes peered from beneath the set of Aviator sunglasses resting on the bridge of his nose, watching the small speck in the distance that he knew to be the airplane carrying his potential teammates. <br><br>His briefing had been very.... well brief. The gist of what he'd learned was that the 'Spear of Destiny' had been stolen from the Vatican, or atleast the head of the spear anyways, and it had given the thief enormous power. Marcus had never believed the myth of the Spear of Destiny to be true, but from the moment he'd spoken to Father Masino and heard the seriousness in his tone, it had been obvious that they weren't bullshitting with him. However apparently either the Vatican was trying to reduce costs for overseas calls or they simply didn't have anymore information at the time, because that had been the bulk of his briefing, just that he was to just join up with the other teammates and get the spear back from him. Marcus knew the stakes, he knew what would happen if the man happened to gain the shaft to the spear as well, and he knew it was going to be a highly dangerous mission that he most likely wouldn't survive..... it sounded like it would be an absolute blast.<br><br>"This feels like the first day of high school all over again..." He said with a light smirk as he watched the plane skid onto the tarmac and roll to a stop infront of him. "Well... here it goes..." He said, shifting his bag onto his shoulder a little higher this time as he walked towards the plane.<br><br>(This can just come in whenever you guys land if you were wanting to rp more of the scenes happening in the plane itself first, I just wanted to get the post up while I still had the muse.)
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>KittyRivera</strong> on <strong>23-04-2010, 02:11:00</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Mea and Yousef used the gym for a little over an hour together before they were finally both worn out. The treadmill and bowflex wasn't exactly a state of the art weight room, but it was plenty for their purposes. They spoke little of the mission, Yousef instead dominating the conversation by barking at Mea to increase her reps, to run faster, add more weight...<br><br>After she couldn't take anymore, she called a halt to the exertion.&nbsp; Panting, she slapped Yousef on the back, a tired smile on her face. "You always knew how to push me, Tank."&nbsp; She flicked her towel over her shoulder, wiping at her brow, which dripped heavily down into her eyes. Her lashes were spikey and wet, as was her hair.&nbsp; "I'm going to use the shower in the cabin first. Don't worry, I won't use up all the hot water."<br><br>She flicked a farewell gesture behind her shoulder as she exited the gym, then strode still breathless towards the head.&nbsp; After her shower, she mechanically forced down four boiled eggs with Tabasco and finished her gallon of water before finally settling in one of the four beds to sleep. She read scripture for a few minutes, writing notes in a small notebook she kept with her Bible, before her eyelids got too heavy to hold open any longer. She shut the lamp off on the ceiling, then tucked a pillow between her knees. She was asleep nearly as soon as she pulled the comforter over her head.<br><br>The next morning, Mea was woken by an unfamiliar hand on her shoulder. Sitting straight up out of bed, she swept her hand under her pillow, groping blindly for a knife until her eyes focused on the flight attendant's shocked face in front of her.<br><br>"Oh, Christ. Sorry. Um...what's going on?"&nbsp; The stewardess cleared her throat, color slowly beginning to return to her cheeks. "Um, we've reached New York, Ma'am. Would you like some coffee?" Mea pushed hair out of her face, shaking her head. "No, thank you, water is fine. The guys..?"&nbsp; The flight attended nodded, smiling pleasantly. "Yes, they're being roused now."&nbsp; <br><br>"Good, okay. That's fine. Thank you."&nbsp; Mea slid out from the warmth of the comforter, swinging her bare legs over the edge of the bed.&nbsp; She stretched luxuriously, then plucked a robe from where she laid it over the edge of the mattress, sliding it over her shoulders for modesty's sake. She slept in men's boxers and a military green tank, but that didn't mean she wasn't in a team full of men who were away from anything even remotely female for sometimes months at a time.<br><br>She groggily made it to the head, gratefully before the guys bombed it with their morning routine, relieved herself and brushed her teeth. After dressing, she returned to the cabin where the beds had been replaced back under the bench seats, and their breakfast was waiting. Mea made swift work of an egg white omelet and sliced fruit, and two pieces of wheat toast with real butter-a luxury for the diet-obsessed Major.<br><br>Mouth still full of eggs and toast, she fetched her bags down out of the luggage rack, unzipping it so that she could check her gear. She was still chewing when she strapped on her utility belt and swung the backpack over her shoulders.<br><br>"Good morning, folks, this is your captain speaking. We'll be reaching New York in about ten minutes. The weather is hot and sunny, so don't forget that sunscreen." Mea rolled her eyes at the cheesy dialog, sitting down in one of the window seats to get comfortable for landing. This was always the worst part, the anticipation before battle. Her stomach was nervously jumping, making her feel tense, and she wasn't even in Atlanta yet.<br><br><br><br><br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Xiddeus</strong> on <strong>23-04-2010, 04:03:44</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Yousef found that for once he&nbsp; could not sleep as soundly as usual.&nbsp; Normally the idea of battle always calmed him just before entering, but he found that this time he could only toss and turn, and when he did finally pass out, his sleep was full of nightmare images of Mea caught ins cross fire and he was unable to reach her.&nbsp; Hee awoke with a start long before the attendant even came close.&nbsp; He sat upright and quickly grabbed his gear before she had even made it to his bunk.&nbsp; A few minutes later he was in his chair once more, ready to meet the 'new guy' and to kick ass once more, seeming his old worry free self, if only to appease everyone's mind about him.&nbsp; &nbsp;He knew that they were watching him the most as he was the most unstable of the group.&nbsp; Prone to short temper and violent actions, he knew that this reason alone was enough to keep a relationship from budding, even Marcus had said that he was too intense... maybe he had been right.&nbsp; Hell, he knew that Marcus had been right.&nbsp; As Mea walked up he asked her what the new guys name was.<br><br>"So Major, who is the new guy anyway?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Cameron182</strong> on <strong>23-04-2010, 04:41:16</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Marcus shrugged the duffel bag off of his shoulder and let it fall to the ground, comfortable in the fact that none of the weapons stowed in his bag were hitting each other. The protective foam padding he'd slipped around each of the blades were doing their job, keeping each of his weapons in mint condition. It was sad when he thought about it, he had more weapons on his person and in his bag than he had personal items and clothing. He had stopped a few yards from the plane itself, waiting for the exit stairs to fold out and let the occupants of the craft out, feeling a growing sense of nervousness building in his gut. <br><br>This was his first mission since the loss of his entire team, what if he simply wasn't ready? What if he hadn't spent enough time in mourning, what if he had spent too much time and he'd let himself grow rusty? No.... he immediately shoved the negative thoughts away from his mind, that kind of thinking wouldn't do him any good from this point forward. He'd trained every day since he'd quit the military, keeping himself in prime condition, he wasn't rusty, if anything he was better than he was before, because now he knew what it was like to lose people he cared about, ate with, laughed with, made memories with. He wasn't going to allow that to happen this time.... he'd sacrifice himself before he let another teammate of his die.<br><br>A slight smile crossed onto his lips as he watched his new team members step out of the plane and onto the staircase itself, heading towards him with their own belongings in hand. The first man looked to be a few inches shorter than himself, wiry, a look in his eyes that seemed to scream sniper. Just something about the way the man carried himself, the angle he held his head, every small detail about him displayed what his specialty may be. Although he could be completely off-base with his assumption, it had happened before, but Marcus had always been extremely gifted at looking at every small detail of a person and reading them like an open book. The second man that stepped onto the staircase nearly blotted out the sun with his bulk, causing Marcus' right eyebrow to twitch upwards in surprise. The man was massive, with arms the size of Marcus' head and a glower to his eyes that seemed to drip with danger. He was a loose cannon, emotional, easily provoked into rage, that much Marcus could tell even if he didn't possess a natural ability in reading people. <br><br>The third person to step off of the airplane took Marcus completely by surprise, though outwardly he was too stunned to show any kind of response physically. She was definately attractive, that much was obvious, her small frame and sharp look to her eyes definately caught his attention, but that wasn't the reason for his sudden shock. Although she had darker hair, she could have passed for an identical twin to Rachel, the woman who'd been apart of his team in the black-ops squad, the one he'd given his entire heart to, the one who'd been violently taken away from him at a point where life didn't seem like it could get any better. He quickly composed himself, pretty sure that no one would notice the slight stiff posture of his body as he'd laid eyes on her, the Aviator shades blocking his eyes had definately helped conceal the surprise that would have been obvious in his icy blues.<br><br>"....before any introductions go down.... those two snipers behind me on each of those control towers.... are they yours...?" He said with a calm tone.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>KittyRivera</strong> on <strong>23-04-2010, 04:56:40</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				She looked up from her laptop with a surprised expression when Tank asked, "So Major, who is the new guy anyway?"<br><br>"Captain..!" she paused, about to admonish him for not paying attention yesterday. Probably too involved in stuffing his face full of pizza. Just the thought of the greasy carb-ridden cellulite trap made her queasy.<br><br>Looking more than a little green around the gills, Mea shook her head "Valentine. Marcus Valentine. Ex-Marine. Masino said he was getting info from the Americans to help us locate the Illunimati extop?" She hesitated, digging a tums from some pocket or other on her utility belt, chewing the peppermint chalk with a disgusted expression.&nbsp; "Ears still pull of pepperoni, Tank?"<br><br>"Please put away all electronic devices, including cameras, cell phones and laptops. We're going to be landing soon." A flight attendant chirped from the front of the cabin. She closed the laptop and left it laying across her thighs, still looking at Yousef like he'd suddenly grown another head.<br><br>Today, Mea had deviated from her usual military greens, wearing instead a fitted cream-colored long-sleeved turtleneck and cargo khakis, her white tennis shoes making her petite feet look even smaller than usual. She even had earrings in, small diamond studs. Might as well try to look approachable instead of like a military dyke when meeting the new guy. The plane eased itself to a halt on the tarmac, and Mea waited for the okay from the stewardesses before unbuckling herself to leave. The fresh air was welcome when they opened the door, allowing sunlight to stream in.<br><br>Gerard left first, followed swiftly by Tank, and Mea tucked her laptop under her arm and nodded thanks to the flight attendants. "See you soon, Ladies."&nbsp; "Enjoy your break, Major Vanni."<br><br>They crossed the Tarmac in a loose formation, Mea's long strides eating up the distance as she took point. They reached Valentine, and she offered her hand in greeting.<br><br>"....before any introductions go down.... those two snipers behind me on each of those control towers.... are they yours...?" His voice was interesting, a baritone that would have done well in radio. She nodded slowly and dropped the hand she had offered, her body tensing slowly in case the situation suddenly turned hostile. "Unfortunately...yes. Father Masino is...a very cautious person. It's not meant as a threat to your safety, it's meant for our protection."<br><br>She cleared her throat "So, now that that's taken care of..."<br><br>"Marcus Valentine," she motioned to Yousef "Captain Yousef 'Tank' Ahmouhd, tactical insertion and extraction expert." She motioned to Gerard "Captain Gerad Konnen, sniper and long-range munitions expert." Then, mentioning herself, her full lips twitched into what might have been a smile "Major Mea Vanni, covert ops."<br><br><br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Xiddeus</strong> on <strong>23-04-2010, 05:13:26</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Tank was officially pissed.&nbsp; The man's name was Marcus, just like his best friend.&nbsp; But that could have been overlooked... no it was the way he shook Mea's hand that suddenly got him.&nbsp; He rolled one of his cigs and tried to ignore it, Mea had been with plenty of men and surely this was just another guy that would be gone and no more like all the others... Tank found that for some reason, this time, he couldn't shake the feeling that he had lost his chance at her forever though.&nbsp; She had never tried to look feminine for him, never even bothered being anything but Major while he was around.<br><br>It is because you are a coward Yousef, you lost your chance years ago.&nbsp; He pulled his shades over his eyes gratefull he was able to control his tear ducts since the riots in Jerusalem.&nbsp; <br><br>"So, now we just sit here with our thumbs up our Fifth point of contact until plane arrives, listening to boring meeting?" he didn't realize it but he had moved to a flanking position to back up Mea, completely unaware of it.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Cameron182</strong> on <strong>23-04-2010, 05:35:25</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"I see..." he said with a nod, understanding the sentiment of the Father's intentions. Who was Marcus to judge someone for trying to be prepared when he had more blades on his person than an exhibit of medieval weaponry? He nodded towards each of the men as Mea made the introductions, and then the smile that was already on his face growing ever slightly at the sight of the concealed smile pulling at the corners of her lips. As he began to speak, his eyes noticed the sudden flare of Yousef's nostrils and the slight bulge of his eyes as he'd watched himself and Mea shake hands. His right eyebrow twitched upwards ever slightly as he studied Yousef for a few seconds behind the shield of his Aviators. It didn't take a brain surgeon to realize that Yousef was madly in love with the woman standing infront of him, though he doubted any of it had ever been actually put to spoken word. He had probably been placed under the 'big brother' category and was forever bent on hating any man she came into contact with.<br><br>He couldn't help but feel a bit sorry for him, knowing that the feeling of rejection while watching the person you cared for being with other people was a unique kind of pain in itself. As Yousef spoke, he could hear the thick Israeli accent rolling through his broken English. His words brought a small chuckle from Marcus, his smile turning into a hint of a smirk.<br><br>"Let me guess....." He said, nodding towards Gerad, "He likes to leave the toilet seat up...." he then looked towards Yousef, "His feet probably stink...." He then looked towards Mea, a playful glint in his eyes beneath his shades, "And you.... you're the worst of all.... you like to hide the remote don't you...?" He said, his lips breaking out into a small grin. He knew it was slightly cheesy, but it was his way of breaking the awkwardness that would surely ensue if he didn't do something about it. Feeling comfortable with your teammates was an absolute must if you would have to entrust them with your very life.<br><br>As he continued to look at Mea, he couldn't help but feel the sharp knife of hurt stabbing him in his gut. She resembled Rachel so much, it was even more obvious now that they were in such close proximity, that he could swear he was staring at her ghost. This was definately going to take some getting used to. "Covert ops huh....? Looks like we already have something in common. I was covert ops in the Marines for the majority of my service.... though I'm sure you already know that by now." He said with another small laugh. <br><br>He let his eyes slip back to Yousef's form. He had a feeling he would be the hardest to warm up to, either they were going to simply sit and glare at each other for the duration of the mission, content with ignoring each other's existence, or it was probably going to come to some sort of a near-violent blow out and then everything would be smooth afterwards. He had a feeling it was probably going to end up being the latter of the two.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Geradine</strong> on <strong>23-04-2010, 07:20:31</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"just so you know, he's the one that leaves it up." Gerad pointed to Yousef, smirking slightly before re-adjusting his glasses. Gerad was wearing his light combat armor, with a long knife placed comfortably at the small of his back, and a smaller on his thigh. He quirked his eyebrow at the elaborate sheath peeking out from Marcus's back, his trained eyes catching the half hidden grips of the dual blades and the numerous small pockets along his pants, assumed to be for some sort of small throwing object. Gerad knew this was someone he'd want watching <em>his</em> back in a melee. <br><br>"how long do we have here, Major?" Gerad looked inquisitively in her direction. "i would like to get some target practice in before we go play with our good friends, the Illuminati."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>KittyRivera</strong> on <strong>23-04-2010, 15:44:34</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"I see..." Marcus replied, nodding slowly.&nbsp; The Marine seemed to take a moment to digest the situation.<br><br>"So, now we just sit here with our thumbs up our Fifth point of contact until plane arrives, listening to boring meeting?" Yousef was practically bursting out of his uniform for action. She heaved her overnight back from the tarmac, patting his bulky shoulder reassuringly. "Chill out, Tank. The bad guys aren't going anywhere anytime soon."<br><br>"Let me guess....." Marcus said, nodding towards Gerad, "He likes to leave the toilet seat up...." Mea laughed. Close enough! "His feet probably stink...." Mea shook her head. "No more than the usual adult male, including yours."<br><br>"And you.... you're the worst of all.... you like to hide the remote don't you...?" Mea's listed twisted into a wry grin "If I told you that, I'd have to kill you."<br><br>"Just so you know, he's the one that leaves it up." Gerad quipped. The three of them burst into laughter, while Tank looked like he'd swallowed a cactus.<br><br>"Covert ops huh....?" The Marine asked when he finally calmed enough to speak. "Looks like we already have something in common. I was covert ops in the Marines for the majority of my service.... though I'm sure you already know that by now."&nbsp; Mea nodded, flicking her thumb back towards the airport. "Yeah, Father Masino briefed me on you via email on the way here. But anyway, we only have about a short break while the plane refuels, so if you boys need anything from the airport shop, get it now."<br><br>Gerad suddenly piped in, looking down at her with a curious expression "How long do we have here, Major?I'd like to get some target practice in before we go play with our good friends, the Illuminati."<br><br>Mea looked at Gerad in surprise...Tank wasn't the only one that was itching for combat. She glanced down at her watch, saying "No more than twenty minutes. I'm sure they wouldn't mind you taking out some geese or something by the tarmac, if you wanted to. I can radio the tower, see if you're cleared?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Xiddeus</strong> on <strong>23-04-2010, 18:20:29</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"I will meet you in briefing room.&nbsp; Got to use little boys room." he let his accent change to his perfect Soviet Block accent, Gerad easily able to recognize it for when he is pissed.&nbsp; Storming away like he had a date with the devil, he sulked like a child.&nbsp; <br><br>The airport latrine smelled nice and he stood in front of the mirror, his hands on the sink, the water on full blast.&nbsp; Cool it, Yousef.&nbsp; You are like kid with crush on teacher... focus on mission, then when all calm again, you tell her.&nbsp; You will tell her this time.&nbsp; She will always be there after, you had seen to that numerous times, and Gabe had hidden your signature from her HUD so she never knew and you were still in the clear even with the broken protocol.&nbsp; Hell, he didn't know why he was scared, everybody knew, Gabe, Harry, Gerad, even Jenny and the rest of Christoph's team knew.&nbsp; Jenny was just fine with the way he and she were going though, and didn't mind his mental imaging of Mea instead during their... workout sessions.&nbsp; He knew that this would be just one more fling and then everything be right again... wait a minute.&nbsp; He thought back and realized Mea had put on earings... and perfume? Suddenly he felt the anger rise up again, and he wrenched the sink from the wall, the spray catching his shoulder and immediately his anger passed.&nbsp; A look of a kid having broken his dad's favorite toy crossed his face as he placed the sink down.&nbsp; Hurrying out of the latrine he rushed to the briefing room and passing a guard, he stopped a second.<br><br>"Toilet have problem." and he hurried into the meeting, already underway, as usual.&nbsp; He noticed the new guy was sitting right next to Mea and decided to sit next to Gerad at the far end of the table, his shades once more covering his eyes.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Cameron182</strong> on <strong>23-04-2010, 19:35:04</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Since Marcus had already spent the last hour and a half waiting at the airport for the arrival of his teammates, he really didn't feel like spending more time in the airports gift shop and he'd already emptied his tanks long before their plane had arrived. So instead he made his way towards the briefing room after stowing his bags away on the plane itself. He wasn't positive, but he had a feeling the stewardess of the airplane was checking him out, she just seemed to watch him with a smile on her face the entire time he was putting his things away and it made him feel slightly uncomfortable. He was used to flirtation and being on the receiving end of it, but the stewardess was either shy or something because she just stood there smiling at him, only answering his questions with one or two word answers. <br><br>Needless to say he got off of the plane as quickly as possible and several moments later found himself walking into the briefing room, seeing that nobody had arrived yet he immediately headed for what looked to be the most comfortable of the chairs surrounding the long rectangular table. He pulled the sword sheathe from his back and laid upon the table infront of him, leaning back into the cushions of the chair and making himself comfortable.<br><br>He watched as Mea was the next person to walk into the room, a small smile pulling at the corners of his lips once again. He had a feeling that she didn't dress up this often, simply from the way Yousef was watching her and then himself with anger, and he began to wonder if she had dressed this way for Marcus or if it just happened to be a coincidence. He watched as she moved towards the chair next to him, rotating in his own chair so that he could face her with a friendly smile on his lips. "Alright since we're basically going to be living together for the duration of this mission, I just have one rule.... you touch my last pop-tart and you die...." He said in a playful tone as the smile grew into a wide grin. <br><br>He watched as the rest of the team members walked into the briefing room, Gerad looking just as he had earlier, and Yousef looking even more heated and worked up than before. He let out a soft sigh and shook his head as his icy blues went to the table infront of him. Something was going to have to happen or change with him and Yousef or this mission was going to fail before it even started. He couldn't have an overgrown child with a grade-school crush blowing up on him just because he was conversing with the object of Yousef's affection. Loose cannons always caught others in their crossfire. <br><br>He leaned back in his chair as he waited for the meeting to begin, his right hand slipping into one of the many pockets lining his legs and withdrew a three-inch long throwing knife and began to idly spin it across his fingers, walking it in rapid spins from fore, to middle, to ring, to pinky and then in reverse with practiced precision. He was growing restless, bored, he was spending too much time in anticipation and now that they were close to beginning this mission, it was playing across the foreground of his mind with even more intensity. He was ready for something to happen...
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>KittyRivera</strong> on <strong>23-04-2010, 20:06:35</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				After the four boys had finally settled into the briefing room, Mea nodded in satisfaction and stood up from the chair.&nbsp; She had liberted her biosuit's armlet from her bag and strapped it onto her wrist, having pushed up the sleeve of her turtleneck to bare her hairless, suntanned limb.<br><br>"Welcome, everyone. Thanks for your promptness. I'm sure we're all hot to get into the thick of things, so I won't delay anymore." She touched a key on the armlet, and suddenly, the middle of the table split open and folded into itself, a large plastic and metal sphere rising from the hole. She touched another key, and a richly detailed holographic image flickered into life above the globe. It was a 3D map of Atlanta. Obscured only slightly by static, Gabriel's voice came through her wristpad.&nbsp; "Is that image coming through okay, Major Van?"&nbsp; Mea nodded, even though Gabe couldn't see her "It's fine, Gabe, thank you."<br><br>"This is the current Satellite image over Atlanta, Georgia." She stuck her arm in the hologram, splaying her fingers to twist the hologram to suit her purposes.&nbsp; The hologram zoomed in past buildings, streets, and cars, focusing in on a nice condo in an upper-middle class neighborhood in the suburbs.&nbsp; "This is 1511 States Ave, the current location of the Illuminati extop." The hologram flickered, showing a slowly spinning 3D image of a brunette, middle aged Italian man, with a rather large and severe nose.&nbsp; "His birth name was Rosso Corsini, after graduating with an Engineering&nbsp; and Software Programming degree, the Illuminati hired him up for his breakthrough extop software that he programmed for the Italian Army. He worked for them for about nine years, until he had a falling out. After escaping Milan, he went to the States and contacted the Federal Marshals to enter the witness protection program. He's now known as Jerry Goldstein..." her voice was touched with humor "I guess he's passing himself off as Jewish now. Anyway...according to Father Masino, the Illuminati have been planning on taking the Spear for some time now, approximately thirty years from what information we've gathered, and possibly longer. Because of Corsini's extop software program and satellite imaging programs, he was apparently the critical piece of the puzzle. The very -reason- why Strazzi was able to take the Spear."<br><br>She twisted her hand in the hologram, and it changed from Corsini's face back to his condo, only this time it was a 3D blueprint&nbsp; "According to the email I received yesterday from Masino, the Federal Marshals have not heard from Corsini in several days, and it's suspected that he might have defected back to Illuminati ranks. We've been given permission to search his condo for any pertinent information we can find about the Illuminati, the Spear, and we've also been instructed to confiscate any paperwork or electronically stored information regarding the Illuminati."<br><br>She withdrew her hand from the hologram and touched another key on her wristpad, and the hologram flickered out. "A biosuit and VISOR and a brief training introduction will be given to you, Valentine, so that you can link up with our extops Harry and Gabriel back in Rome. All of the holograms and information will be available to everyone via your VISOR. Any questions?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Xiddeus</strong> on <strong>23-04-2010, 20:28:36</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Yousef didn't say a word.&nbsp; No quips no jokes.&nbsp; Nothing.&nbsp; He just fumed there behind his shades, glaring death at the man down the table, chatting up Mea.&nbsp; How could this jerk think he had a chance with her... oh yeah, she wore pretty girl-girl things.&nbsp; As soon as she dismissed them, he stood and silently stalked out of the room and back to the plane, suddenly feeling sick as she flirted back at the blonde haired American cowboy Marine mom's apple pie type dude next to her.&nbsp; He quickly boarded again and headed straight to the stewardess area, snatching up a small glass with coke and pouring a trace of vodka into it.&nbsp; Knocking it back he quickly rehid the bottle and drank another glass of just coke, you know, to get rid of the smell that it left.&nbsp; It wasn't good vodka anyway, and cheap vodka always left that nail polish remover... nail polish.&nbsp; Wait... she had that little toe ring on too.&nbsp; Oh, the hell!&nbsp; He thought about the vodka again and decided against it.&nbsp; He had already got on Mea's last nerve with it yesterday.&nbsp; Noticing the stewardess kind of cowering in the corner, he smiled at her and tried to calm her. <br><br>"Sorry, flight jitters."&nbsp; He turned away and moved to his seat, stopping at a mirror on the way and taking stock in his face.&nbsp; Broken nose from too many fights, a rebuilt cheekbone, a scar that ran across his face from a machete, the very one he carried in his bag actually, from the sniper that nearly got Mea.&nbsp; Yeah, he was no prize.&nbsp; He was just big, and slow, and stupid... a tank in all aspects.&nbsp; He truly lived up to his name... he did smile though as Jenny used to call him that for a different reason.&nbsp; Which reminded him, surely Jenny and Mea had talked.&nbsp; Girls always do, so she had to know that he carried a flame for her.&nbsp; Jenny knew that while he liked her, and thoroughly enjoyed their time together, that it was just friendly... extremely friendly, not like a relationship or anything.&nbsp; If Mea had told him flat out no, then he probably would have gotten with Jenny.&nbsp; But she never even acknowledged it, even Jenny told him she was too focused on her career to have a relationship with anyone, especially on her team.&nbsp; He sighed as he sat down, really needing any of his friends at that point.&nbsp; Anyone really that would at least understand, but Gerad was the only one left who he could talk to.&nbsp; He didn't have the guts to talk to Mea right now, not before the mission anyway.&nbsp; But after.&nbsp; Definitely after.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Cameron182</strong> on <strong>23-04-2010, 20:46:35</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Marcus sat with his muscular arms crossed over his chest as he listened to Mea speak, paying attention to every detail. Information was key to the success of any mission, no matter how small or trivial the information might be, it could always come in useful at some point later on. His right eyebrow arched once more as Mea explained the different pieces of technology that would be given to him. He decided he might as well get fitted with everything quickly, so that they didn't have to waste any time waiting on him. "I'll catch up with you guys in a little bit..." He said to Mea, and then went with a few attendants to the next room to be fitted with all of the new equipment.<br><br>The biosuit was a comfortable fit, albeit a little bit tight in certain extremities, but he found that the suit itself regulated its temperature to keep his body constantly cool. This would come in very handy when in the heat of battle in counteracting combat fatigue. The VISOR they equipped to him next took a little bit more time to get used to but it didn't take long for him to get the hang of it. <br><br>"Mr. Valentine..? Do you hear me alright..?" Came a voice through the VISOR itself and Marcus nodded, "Loud and clear.... Gabriel I presume...?" Marcus spoke in a friendly tone. "Yes.... we're about to start the training video through your VISOR, it won't take longer than a few seconds as most of the training is done to your subconscious, so please find a seat and remain still for a few moments until it is complete." Marcus immediately moved towards the single chair in the changing room and let his head rest against the wall behind him, waiting for the mental training to start. After a few seconds he heard the machine suddenly hum to life, and then his eyes snapped open and began to rapidly move back and forth as if he was experiencing an R.E.M. sleep stage. <br><br>Tons of data flew through his mind, the majority of it burying into his subconscious for use later when he would need it, and the rest came flashing across his VISOR as various images and sounds and after a few more seconds, it suddenly ended. "Woah.... that was.... different." He said in a kind of shocked tone. He'd experienced VR training before, but nothing to quite that astonishing of a degree. "Good work Mr. Valentine.... I'm surprised the training took less time than normal...." Came the voice of Gabriel once more. Marcus smirked as he stood up from the chair, "I'm a quick learner..." He said, and then grabbed the rest of his gear and headed out of the small room and towards the airplane once more.<br><br>A single form caught his attention, walking towards the plane as well and he hurried his pace a bit to catch up with Mea, slowing back to a normal walk as he came up alongside her. The biosuit hugged his athletic form well, showing every contour of his body, making him feel a bit exposed but he pushed the thought from his mind. "So.... out of curiosity... you don't seem like the type to dress up very often.... any special reason...?" He asked, his tone betraying nothing but a slightly mischevious glint appearing in his eyes. If she had any ability of reading people, she would be able to tell from the look that he knew the reason behind her dressing up, but was waiting for her to actually put it to words.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>KittyRivera</strong> on <strong>26-04-2010, 02:52:45</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Mea left the briefing room to buy lunch at the airport before returning to the tarmac. Her arms were loaded down with bags full of Chinese food, and she was slowed by her burden, careful not to spill the delicate packaging.<br><br>She turned her face to look up at Marcus when he came jogging up to her, with an expression of surprise at his interest. "So.... out of curiosity... you don't seem like the type to dress up very often.... any special reason...?"<br><br>A faint smile curled the corners of her lips, and she pushed back a strand of hair behind her ear, shifting her weight to keep from spilling. "Kind of a personal question for someone whose only known me for less than a day, Valentine."&nbsp; The tone of her voice made it clear she didn't appreciate the probing. Her eyes were very intense under the thick wave of bangs that curled from her crown.<br><br>Mea hadn't changed her clothes yet, but her utility belt and biosuit bracer was still on, habit more than laziness.&nbsp; She sighed in frustration with the packaging, stopping suddenly. "Valentine, help me with these."&nbsp; She offered him two of the bags, stating swiftly "Careful, it'll spill...keep it upright."&nbsp; One of the flight attendants was waiting at the stairs, nodding to them as they made their way up the plane's steps.<br><br>"Okay guys!" She yelled from the door "Dinner!"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Xiddeus</strong> on <strong>26-04-2010, 03:53:16</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Yousef pulled his tray up and set it upright.&nbsp; Snagging a magazine to take his mind off f the cowboy.&nbsp; Skymall, the crap that nobody buys, but always act like they are.&nbsp; He glanced out the window as a bird flew by and saw the cowboy American with Mea again.&nbsp; Except this time she smiled and fixed hr hair... The vein in Yousef's neck bulged and his tray cracked off of its arm when he breathed in.&nbsp; Once more he sheepishly looked up and at one of the stewardesses.&nbsp; <br><br>"Sorry, plane is just not meant for man of my size." and he scooted up and away to the one room that he knew he could not break anything... besides he really needed to work off some frustration and a certain speedbag was calling his name in an American voice.<br><br>He tossed his harness aside and stripped off the upper portion of his suit, using the sleeves as a belt.&nbsp; Not even bothering to put on gloves, he didn't even wrap his wrists, just simply walking straight to the bag, his back to the entrywway.&nbsp; Chorded muscle rippled as he started swinging, slow and easy, simply finding a rhythm. Scars and bullet wounds over tattoos and even more scars and wounds.&nbsp; His body a testament to his strength and toughness, his endurance showing as he lightly began to perspire, little beads starting and coming together before racing down his rolling back.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Cameron182</strong> on <strong>27-04-2010, 00:10:57</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				His eyes danced when he saw the small hints of a smile forming on her face, though the tone of her voice made it clear that she didn't enjoy the questioning. He hadn't meant to impose really, he was just trying to make conversation and, yes there may have been a small bit of flirtation involved, which he found kind of odd considering he hadn't even looked at a woman in that aspect since losing Rachel. Maybe the shock of losing her and his grieving process was finally coming to a close, that or the fact that Mea was Rachel's dark-headed doppelganger, either way Marcus was interested to see exactly how far it ended up going.<br><br>"I'm sorry, I wasn't trying to be nosey or anything.... I don't really care for the whole awkward silence thing, and that was just the first thing that popped into my head." He said in a slight apologetic tone, though there was a hint of playfulness to it, seeming to dance in his eyes as well. By her answer alone and the smile that had come to her face before she'd responded, she'd already confirmed Marcus' suspicions about the true reason for her dressing up like she had. <br><br>He was surprised when she handed him two of the bags of Chinese food but he took them into his arms, heeding her warning and making sure to keep them upright as they boarded the plane once again. He moved towards one of the tables and set the bags of Chinese food down, his icy blue eyes shifting over towards the broken tray infront of one of the seats and his right eyebrow arched. It was obvious that Yousef had been the one to break it, whether it be by accident or out of anger, Marcus wasn't sure but he was willing to bet his bottom dollar that it was the latter of the two. <br><br>As Mea went to the door to yell to the other two that it was time to eat, Marcus grabbed an eggroll and a handful of fried wantons and moved to his seat. He'd already eaten earlier in the day and really wasn't that hungry, but seriously who could pass up a free eggroll? He leaned back in the comfortable chair slightly as he watched the other three going about the task of getting their food and taking their seats as well. He was eager to see what everyone was like once they were in a combat situation, people acted entirely different when they were under pressure, and the majority of the time a person's true character would surface in the heat of battle. It was definately a learning experience to say the least when it came to fighting alongside other people that you were trying to get to know.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Xiddeus</strong> on <strong>27-04-2010, 16:25:34</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Yousef never heard the yell as he continued his repast, one, two, one two. He stopped abruptly though as an old pain in his chest renewed, his hand moved to a small scar just beside his heart.&nbsp; It was a bullet wound, one from Kiev...<br><br><em>They had been moving to rendezvous with a few KGB agents that had intel on a group of fanatics nearby, it was a cold Soviet Morning and both CIA, Interpol, and KGB had declared the area free of hostiles.&nbsp; They had been merrily tramping through the woods up a hill, unawares that a KGB agent had gone mole, leading them right into a trap.&nbsp; He had stopped Mea short, grabbing her vest to catch her attention.&nbsp; "Mea, I love you.&nbsp; At first, after Pusan, I thought it was just a crush and it would fade.&nbsp; But after these two years it has only gotten stronger.&nbsp; You can keep up with me drinking, you can put up with my stupid jokes, and you even fight harder than I do... I just wanted you to know, before I lose the courage to tell you." he had admitted his attraction to her then.&nbsp; She had turned around and a little smile had started at her lips, that cute playful one she never got, and a wetness had started at her eyes.&nbsp; For Yousef it was like one of those fantasy romance novel moments.&nbsp; Then she fell against him, her face changing to one of pain.&nbsp; Then he felt the pain in his own body, and then came the sound of the rifle shot.&nbsp; He had fallen back, holding on to her so his body would be her sled as they plummeted down the hill, rocks and sticks and trees tearing at his body instead of hers.&nbsp; He had managed to help her to a small shack nearby at the base of the hill, radioing for evac immediately, before ripping open her suit to inspect her wound.&nbsp; It had been bad, dangerously close to her heart.&nbsp; She had looked up at him the next day, waking for only a few moments, and she said to him, "I think I love you too, Yousef." and they had shared a kiss, one that he would remember for all time, one that was only found in romance novels. Nothing more, nothing less.&nbsp; Later, when the evac chopper invaded Russian airspace to get them, he remembered waking up to hear her flatline, the medic calling saying she wasn't going to survive and to give her blood to Yousef.&nbsp; Looking over he saw that they had already begun, the color, what little there was, draining into him.&nbsp; In a rage Yousef had managed to snatch an Anthropine injector, and using the wound in his chest stabbed his own heart so that he wouldn't have to live without her.&nbsp; The adrenaline kicked in and his heart nearly lept from his chest, the blood pumping so strongly that it forced its way back through the tubes.&nbsp; Some of the adrenaline must have made it to her heart as well, because she had a pulse once more.&nbsp; In the hospital, though, when he went to visit her when she awoke, he did die.&nbsp; She called him Captain, not Yousef, and she didn't remember a thing after the shot.&nbsp; Even thinking that there had been two shots.&nbsp; But Yousef knew, he knew that her blood still mixed with his own.</em><br><br>He stood there, staring at the scar in the tiny mirror of the plane's gym.&nbsp; He had to tell her soon, he would not lose her again.&nbsp; He just didn't know if she would react the same way as she did before...&nbsp; Leaning against the wall, using his forehead to hold himself up, he allowed a single tear to fall.&nbsp; Before rising and grabbing a towel to dry himself with, some deodorant and a slight amount of cologne and he was ready to face the team again, his strength renewed slightly.&nbsp; Now to get Marcus, the cowboy to back off... without killing him, he had read the file as well, knowing he was a good soldier, but in love and war, all is fair.&nbsp; With a grimace he walked over and grabbed some finger food, deciding how best to approach him.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>KittyRivera</strong> on <strong>27-04-2010, 16:41:57</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"I got two cartons of Orange chicken this time, so that you and Tank won't be fighting over it." She grinned over at Gerad as she unpacked the boxes, holding up a container in each hand and jiggling it.&nbsp; "I also got an extra stir fry veg," she directed this to Marcus "I didn't know what kind of diet you were on, so..." She watched him stuff an egg roll into his mouth, blinking "Okay, none. Gotcha!" She asked for a plate from one of the flight attendants, thanking the woman when one was handed to her. She began flipping open the lids to the boxes and sticking chopsticks into each one for easier serving. "Where's Tank? Anyone know if he's back on the plane?" She asked, to no one in general.<br><br>Mea had already begun to tuck into a plate full of steamed veggies and grilled beef when Yousef strolled into the cabin from the gym, looking like he had just gone a few rounds with Kimbo Slice. His eyes were swollen, and his face was flushed, the thin webwork of scars across his skin standing out like fresh wounds. All eyes followed him as he tromped across the carpeted floor.<br><br>Fork paused halfway up to her mouth, a concerned look furrowed her brows "I uh...got Chinese. You eating?"&nbsp; She tilted her head over towards the large table where a variety of take out boxes stood, the delicious smells of American-style Chinese food wafting up from their panda-decorated cardboard. Her voice was muted with worry "Orange Chicken..."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Xiddeus</strong> on <strong>27-04-2010, 20:34:28</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Yousef turned his head to look at her, his gaze meeting hers for an instant... Concern? Worry? Did he see it right? He considered telling her right then and there... but decided against it, rationalizing that she would be embarrassed in front of the others.&nbsp; He didn't care, but he cared about her and didn't want her to lose face as the Boss in front of the men.&nbsp; He knew how hard she had worked at getting her position and even harder to maintain it.&nbsp; Trionfo, even in the modern era was still very male oriented.&nbsp; He suppressed a giggle at the last time one of the execs had made a comment about her being a 'female' leader and how a man could have done better.&nbsp; She didn't have to take the guy down, Tank had been there before she could blink.&nbsp; It wasn't that she couldn't, it was that he had calmly explained to the poor sap that she didn't have to back up her own talk, her team did it for her as her own words where not needed in that regard.&nbsp; 'Major Vanni is the best you've got and the only one man enough to keep Tank inline! Can you do it, can any of these 'men' do it?" and he had let the words fall upon the ground like the dead weights the execs were. 'You worry about politics, the Major will worry about enforcing them.'<br><br>He smiled at her, a genuine smile and without the others seeing he mouthed the word, 'Later.' Then aloud he spoke. "What, you never see Yousef birthday suit? You missing out," he quipped, his goofy grin quickly overtaking his smile.&nbsp; He grabbed the carton of Orange Chicken and a set of sticks, moving back to his seat... with the still broken tray.&nbsp; Sitting down he used his hand to hold the carton as he wolfed the food down, as if Gerad might try to eat it out of his own hand before Yousef could.&nbsp; It was an old habit he found hard to break, scarfing his food in a matter of seconds.&nbsp; Too many times in combat did he find himself eating this way and had to actually sit back and think about eating slowly.<br><br>"So, we walk into ambush, Tank take all the hits while you three eliminate threats and we happily follow Yellow Brick Road back outside with any intel.&nbsp; Got it, but I don't think Yousef make good Dorothy.&nbsp; Let us make new guy wear red shoes."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Cameron182</strong> on <strong>27-04-2010, 22:50:38</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Marcus paused halfway through his egg roll as he watched Yousef thunder into the room, well thunder only because each footstep seemed to cause miniature earthquakes. His eyes read nothing as he surveyed the man's battered form. The guy definately was a 'tank' in all descriptions of the word, Marcus had more than his fair share of battle scars lining his athletic body, but most of them remained hidden under his clothing, except for the small scar running vertically down his left eyebrow. Marcus' eyes shifted to Mea as she spoke towards Yousef, concern evident in her voice. There was good reason for her concern, Yousef seemed to be radiating anger and barely caged chaos. However it seemed that as soon as Mea spoke to him, Yousef's attitude did a complete one-eighty and he seemed to be all smiles and jokes once more. <em>Guy's got it bad...."</em> He thought to himself, feeling a bit of sympathy towards the mammoth of a man.<br><br>He listened to Yousef's comment about him being the one to wear the red shoes and couldn't help but laugh, a wide grin spreading across his lips, his eyes seeming to smile as well. "Actually I think you're much prettier than Dorothy, Yousef. But if you insist on me rocking the red shoes.... well alright but if you grab my ass then it's on..." He said in a playful tone, hoping that the former animosity that seemed to be shared between the two was finally extinguished and they could move towards getting along with one another.<br><br>"Before you go in Rambo-style... let me slip in first, if anything else I'll be able to take out atleast four or five of them before we're discovered..." He mused, already thinking ahead to the mission. Marcus was a master of stealth, easily able to move through the shadows without even the slightest of noises. If it did come down to a firefight, Marcus would simply have to resort to his throwing knives and slipping in close range with his blades, the only problem that posed was that he couldn't dodge or deflect every bullet, many would get through and even though he could take a great deal of damage, one well placed shot would be enough to take him out. If he could help it, he'd rather thin their numbers before they charged in guns blazing.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Geradine</strong> on <strong>28-04-2010, 20:11:16</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Gerad watched the interchange with interest, his orange chicken already eaten and was working on his 3rd egg roll. He didn't twitch when Yousef entered the room, used to his "stress relief" exercises, but he did note that Yousef didn't seem as relieved from beating the snot out of the bag as he usually did. Gerad could guess why, considering the new person, but he knew when to keep his head down. after Gerad finished with his eggroll, he dug through his duffel, digging around the VSS Snaiperskaya Special he snuck along. he came up with 3 spheres, 2 of them about 1/2" in diameter, but the third was much larger, about 3 1/2". he immediatly began to use the smaller pair, expertly making them travel in circles in his palms clockwise and counter-clockwise. after doing this for a bit, he set them aside and grabbed the larger, and proceeded to sphereplay with it.<br><br><br>(youtube.com/watch?v=hIaNx_YwEYA is an example of sphereplay)
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>KittyRivera</strong> on <strong>30-04-2010, 20:16:41</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				She gave a very slight nod when Yousef mouthed "Later", wanting him to know that she understood his need for...delicacy in handling whatever situation he was going through. Yousef had been her rock more than once, she owed him her life. That was the least she could do.<br><br>"So, we walk into ambush, Tank take all the hits while you three eliminate threats and we happily follow Yellow Brick Road back outside with any intel.&nbsp; Got it, but I don't think Yousef make good Dorothy.&nbsp; Let us make new guy wear red shoes." she laughed around a piece of grilled beef.<br><br>"Actually I think you're much prettier than Dorothy, Yousef. But if you insist on me rocking the red shoes.... well alright but if you grab my ass then it's on..." She wrinkled her nose in mock disgust, still chewing.<br><br>"Before you go in Rambo-style... let me slip in first, if anything else I'll be able to take out at least four or five of them before we're discovered..." Valentine added. She shook her head vehemently. "It's not going to go down like that guys. The Marshals said that the condo had been activity-free for at least four days. There's not going to be any ambush. It's an easy task, go in, get the info, go out."&nbsp; She pushed her plate aside, having barely eaten anything on it.&nbsp; "I'm stuffed. Christ. Chinese food is too filling."<br><br>She wiped her mouth and hands with a wetnap, then set it down on the plate. "Anyway...The only thing we're after is his computer, if he by chance, left it behind."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Xiddeus</strong> on <strong>30-04-2010, 20:54:41</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"Oi, I hate those little computery things.&nbsp; Every time Yousef touch one they explode." he laughed as he thought about Milan and how simple that mission had been.&nbsp; Enter the hotel, proceed to objective, snag the PC and extract.&nbsp; The laptop had been a bomb and thanks to his armour had only blown him out of the room, though is hand was burned pretty badly through his combat gloves.&nbsp; Then as he stood dusting himself off, three guys had charged around the corner, one with an RPG.&nbsp; 'RPG, seriously? Indoors?' was all he said as he tossed Gerad and Mea back into the room.&nbsp; He had started to jump after them, but the RPG was already speeding down the hallway, the enclosed space around the fanatics popping their eardrums as it exited the tube.&nbsp; He remembered the look of horror that crossed Mea and Gerad's faces as the RPG had actually impacted his shoulder, sending him flying once more that day and tumbling crazily through the air.&nbsp; Thankfully the combination of muscle and ballistic-proofed gel within the suit had made him soft enough not to explode the thing, but it did go off as it careened into the ceiling.&nbsp; He couldn't hear their cries for him as he lay against the floor, a full fifteen feet away from his previous position and amongst the rubble.&nbsp; His arm had been dislocated and he dragged himself to his feet, dusting himself with his good hand.&nbsp; Mea had been the first to reach him, saying something about a boot.&nbsp; He fell to his knees and grabbed her booted foot and placed it under his shoulder, then using his good arm, grabbed his own dislocated shoulder and wrenched it back into place.&nbsp; He had nearly passed out from the pain, and had even fallen against her then, not noticing until a few seconds later when his head cleared... she hadn't moved away, only held him in place... <br><br>Thinking back on it... there were numerous occasions that she had simply been there.&nbsp; Times that for others she would have radioed in for help, done what ever medical thingy needed to be done and then move on with the mission... Had he been missing these signs all along... or was he just deluding himself?&nbsp; He let the thought go as in only a matter of hours they would be on mission LZ.&nbsp; 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Cameron182</strong> on <strong>30-04-2010, 22:24:35</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"I see..." he said in response to Mea's statement. It wasn't necessarily that he was itching for some violence, okay.... maybe he was. Nearly a year of being inactive had left him a bit restless and he was eager to see if his skills were still just as sharp as they had been before. What was it that Rachel had always said...? Oh yeah, 'Marcus... you're just like a child with a new toy... you can't wait the five minutes it takes to get home before you play with it.' The thought of her brought a small smile to his lips as he stared out the window of the plane, watching as the landscape began to roll by rapidly as their started their ascent. <br><br>Marcus reached to the side of his seat, pulling the little lever that allowed him to lower his seat back, giving him a more comfortable seat. He then reached into his right pocket and withdrew a single worn out photograph, one of the small wallet-sized ones, and unfolded it, a picture of Rachel only a few days before their last mission together stared back at him. A look of deep sorrow could be seen crossing over his features for a brief moment as he folded the paper up again once more and placed it within his pocket, unable to keep his icy blue eyes from looking at Mea immediately afterwards. He wondered if this was some cruel joke being played on him by whatever deity happened to be in charge.... if so there was definately going to be a rumble the moment he stepped into the pearly gates.<br><br>As he pulled his hand out of his pocket he withdrew one of his many small throwing knives and began to spin it idly across the fingers of his right hand, the small silver blade issuing a soft whirring sound as it sliced through the air in small arcs around his knuckles. A sly looked crossed over his features, "Will they be showing a movie on this flight...?" He said with a smile, obviously trying to relax the mood a bit. He could feel a slight tension coming from Yousef as the mammoth of a man pondered over some type of issue, though he imagined it had to do something with Mea. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>KittyRivera</strong> on <strong>30-04-2010, 23:32:30</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				She absently watched Gerad spin his toys, the idle fascination distracting her from the current conversation.<br><br>"Oi, I hate those little computery things.&nbsp; Every time Yousef touch one they explode."&nbsp; Mea laughed...She hadn't forgotten Milan. She had personally let Yousef lean on her while they limped out of the burning building, all three of them covered in ash, dust and streaks of blood. Mostly Yousef's. He felt like he weighed a ton but she barked off any offers of help, shouldering him into the van herself where Gabe was waiting with a first aid kit and a shot of morphine.&nbsp; "Christ, Major, what'd you do to him?" Gabe joked, sticking the needle into Yousef's beefy thigh.&nbsp; "I told him a knock knock joke."&nbsp; she quipped, both men moaned theatrically. Mea was infamous for her lack of timing when it came to jokes, and the fact that she was about as humorous as a British nun.<br><br>Mea remembered when the Christmas party came around the year before that. Her sense of humor being the topic of many jokes, Yousef cinched the topic with a "Beside, Mea always give herself away. She don't have poker face."&nbsp; Yousef made the entire company erupt in howls of laughter.<br><br>Valentine brought her out of the wool. "I see..." he mused, then added after a long pause, "Will they be showing a movie on this flight...?" Mea shook her head, but motioned up to the luggage rack above his head. "No, unfortunately, but I do have a portable DVD player in my bag along with some movies, if you want to use it."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Xiddeus</strong> on <strong>30-04-2010, 23:50:26</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				'Be careful, you might find dirty film in there." Yousef tossed over his shoulder as his body finally cooled enough to zip it back up.&nbsp; Mea had been right, he would need a new suit.&nbsp; He just couldn't get it to zip all the way up... sitting upright and trying to suck in his chest as much as possible, he failed miserably and it zipped back down of its own accord as his ripped pecs flexed with a breath.&nbsp; He swore under his breath and tried again.&nbsp; And again.&nbsp; "The world is just not built for man of my size."&nbsp; and he stood so possibly he could get a better angle on it, but still failed to reach the top lock that would keep it up.&nbsp; <br><br>Looking around he realized everyone was watching him, and he couldn't help but make another joke. "See, even the amazing body armour is no match for Yousef.&nbsp; Nothing can handle me." flexing once more as the zipper fell back down.&nbsp; He waited for the laughter to stop and he admitted to himself that he needed help once more.&nbsp; "Your right Major, I need new suit soon." and he looked forlornly at her, like a kid with a broken toy would look to his mother asking her to fix it.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Cameron182</strong> on <strong>01-05-2010, 21:38:07</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				He contemplated taking Mea up on her offer of the portable dvd player, but knew that in his present state of mind there was no way he'd be able to focus on a movie, he was too distracted with other thoughts that continued to plague his mind. "Thanks but that's alright... unless you've got some Tarantino flicks in there, I doubt I could focus on anything right now..." He said with a warm tone, he really wanted to have more of a conversation with Mea, but knew that with two other team members around at all times, and the protocol that came with speaking to a superior in such a formal manner, that the chances of a one on one talk with her was highly unlikely. <br><br>His blue eyes shifted to Yousef's form as the gargantuan man tried to squeeze his way into one of the suits that was obviously several sizes too small, though large enough to completely swallow Marcus form completely. He heard Yousef's comment about his 'amazing body armor being no match for himself' and it brought a few chuckles from Marcus, a playful, slightly mischevious grin spreading across his lips, "That.... or maybe you should lay off the Big Mac's a bit..... just a thought." He said with another small laugh. <br><br>He let out a soft yawn, bringing a fist up to his mouth for a few moments until it subsided. His fatigue had finally caught up to him, he'd been training non-stop with a renewed passion for the last week straight, and had been too anxious over the mission to sleep the night before. He began to remove the different weapons from various parts of his form, laying them on the extra seat infront of himself. First his longsword in its intricately designed sheathe, followed by a set of very wicked looking curved daggers, and then several handfulls of throwing knives from various parts of his clothing, another set of serrated daggers, finally another set of knives hidden in secret compartments on the outside of each boot. He arranged them on the seat, making a small pile of deadly, razor-sharp blades. <br><br>He paused as he realized everybody was watching him pulling the small arsenal of weapons from his person, his icy blues scanning their various faces with a sheepish kind of grin. Marcus never liked to be without a weapon, he always wanted to know that he had atleast two backup weapons if he lost the ones he was using. "What....? I like to be prepared..." He said with another chuckle. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>KittyRivera</strong> on <strong>02-05-2010, 05:19:07</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				'Be careful, you might find dirty film in there." Yousef joked, Mea snorted wryly. "Your bootleg copy of Hot Anal Grannies got thrown out, perv."<br><br>"Thanks but that's alright... unless you've got some Tarantino flicks in there, I doubt I could focus on anything right now..."&nbsp; Valentine said. Mea quipped "No, just a bunch of romantic comedies." <br><br>She eyed Tank with a shake of her head while he struggled to get comfortable in his too-tight biosuit, then looked at her like a hungry puppy. "I told you to lay off the weights, Tank. Those suits aren't exactly found off rack at the Gap, you know." She didn't dare tell Tank how much time, money and work went into a suit, lest he feel guilty for the rest of the trip. <br><br>"That.... or maybe you should lay off the Big Mac's a bit..... just a thought." Valentine sent that little joke to Yousef. Mea diplomatically did NOT laugh.<br><br>She heaved a weary sigh, rolling her eyes in mock exasperation as she reached for her laptop. "I'll email Father Masino. We'll get you fitted again as soon as we come back."&nbsp; She didn't add, "IF" we come back. Her long painted nails flew over the keys.<br><br>After tilting her bottle of water up to get the last few drops left, Mea stood up, pushed the laptop over onto the seat next to her, and excused herself to the lavatory. As soon as she stood up, she noticed Marcus pulling blades out of...apparently nowhere.&nbsp; After a few minutes of watching him stack knives of all sorts on the table beside his seat, she put a hand on her hip, scratching her head with a half grin. "Bring anything to shave with, Valentine?"<br><br>His grin was boyish. "What....? I like to be prepared..." 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Xiddeus</strong> on <strong>03-05-2010, 20:20:40</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Yousef waited a little longer for his muscles to cool and finally managed to get the zipper to the close point.&nbsp; He breathed out and could feel the suit straining to contain his massive bulk.&nbsp; He flexed a few times and listened to the thing creak and groan like it would burst at any second, yet he knew that it would take more than his meager strength to actually tear the advanced armour.&nbsp; He did his level best to ignore the harmless flirtation between Marcus and Mea... even their damned names fit together... Yousef... calm... remember the training... His mind floated back to his Mossad days and the grueling hours spent learning the various techniques of meditation and finding the switch... It would take him the rest of the flight, simply him alone in his mind, staring out of the window as the world passed by.&nbsp; But when he came to, he was Tank.&nbsp; Yousef was a pipedream and human, Tank was all business.&nbsp; He was the wall between his team and death.&nbsp; He was the line between the enemy and friends.&nbsp; His eyes held that far away look that only the haunted veterans truly understood, all of the team had been forced to do bad things at one point or another, but Tank was the one that Mossad had made to do these things.&nbsp; It was his sole purpose in life, to eliminate threats and defend assets.&nbsp; Rarely, Yousef would struggle back to the surface and was the only reason that he ever broke protocol and assisted Mea without her knowledge.&nbsp; But Tank always resumed and completed the mission to perfection.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Cameron182</strong> on <strong>05-05-2010, 04:13:46</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				A sly smirk took ahold of his features following the boyish grin after hearing Mea's comment. "Oh... I think I can figure out something to shave with..." he said with a soft chuckle, reaching up to scratch the shadow of blonde hair that was growing across his chin and jawline. He could feel his exhaustion finally beginning to settle in, and now that the plane was moving at a comfortable speed, he decided now would be a good time to get a few hours of shut-eye before they arrived for their mission. <br><br>"Well.... I'm going to go catch a quick nap before we land..." He said, knowing the distance between New York and Atlanta would only take a few hours at most, and he wanted his body to be at peak performance when they finally landed. Mea had said it would be a simple grab n' go mission, but Marcus knew from experience that very few missions ever went the way they were planned, he wanted to be prepared just in case.<br><br>He leaned back in the comfortable chair, unsure as to whether or not there was actually sleeping quarters aboard the plane, even if there was there was no point in getting comfortable in a bed when he'd only be waking up in a few hours anyways. He reached into his pocket once more to pull out the picture of Rachel, holding it up before his eyes for a few moments, he then curled the picture up in his hand and laid his head backwards, and within a few seconds his breathing evened out and he felt himself falling asleep.<br><br>After he'd fallen asleep, his right hand had slowly uncurled, letting the picture of Rachel fall to the ground next to his chair.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Geradine</strong> on <strong>05-05-2010, 20:18:42</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				as everyone either dozed off or started meditating, Gerad pulled out his VSS Snaiperskaya Special and proceeded to strip and clean it. it barely passed as a sniper rifle because of how short it was, but it was perfect for urban combat because it <em>was</em> short.he swapped out the scope for an ACOG, and put the rifle back together. the entire barrel looked like it was a silencer, and it acted as one. he pulled out his M9 and attatched a silencer to that as well, thinking it better to be unnoticed that have stopping power, and knowing a shot to the head was lethal no matter&nbsp; if it was silenced or not. after finishing his preparations, he gently put the VSS Snaiperskaya Special back into his bag and settled in for a couple hour nap.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>KittyRivera</strong> on <strong>07-05-2010, 06:19:46</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				She returned from the lavatory, drying her hands more thoroughly on her pants. The paper towels in the airplane bathroom were woefully inadequate for the job.<br><br><br>She smacked Tank's shoulder with a warm smile, then moved to her own seat to relax and catch a nap before landing. Before making it to her own chair, something on the floor caught her eyes. Pausing beside Marcus's slumbering body, she knelt on the harsh carpet. A picture lay on the floor, looking as though it had been dropped from his hand as he fell asleep. She picked it up, about to place it on his lap for retrieval when he woke up, until the sight of it caught her attention.<br><br>Her brow furrowed "What the-..."&nbsp; She lifted the picture for a closer look, a confused expression coloring her face.&nbsp; The girl in the photo could have been her doppelganger, except for the eyes. This girl had brown...Mea's were blue. Same complexion, same nose, the same dimple in her left cheek. It was eerie, staring into a picture that seemed like it had been taken of her.<br><br>Slowly, she allowed her hand to fall, studying Marcus's face for a long tense moment, then carefully put the picture back into one of his biosuit's chest pockets.<br><br>Mea nodded to one of the flight attendants, then murmured "Wake me before we get to Atlanta."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Cameron182</strong> on <strong>08-05-2010, 01:38:44</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Death was prevalent in the air around him, clogging up his nostrils with its coppery odor of freshly spilled blood. Screams of terror and pain filled his eardrums from all directions, and the only sites that came to his eyes were random explosions, bodies flying across the room, blood splattering every available surface. From somewhere in the midst of all the chaos and destruction, he could hear, "Marcus!" Being screamed at a high pitch, filled with the terror of an almost certain demise. Marcus reached outwards, putting all of his strength into moving his body forward, but for some reason it felt as if he was moving in slow-motion, like he was submerged in a pool of water and unable to move anywhere close to as fast as he normally moved.<br><br>To his left, Ramirez fell, bullet-holes appearing in his forehead, to his right Jacobs fell to his knees, clutching a hand over the gaping wound of his stomach, his innards spilling out onto the ground. Time seeming to slow around him, Marcus watched as the decapitated head of his best friend, Michaels, fly by him, a look of astonishment eternally plastered on his corn-fed features. "Rachel!" He yelled as loud as he could, leaping forward as he watched her being taken to her knees, a gun placed to the back of her skull. He knew there was no way he was going to be able to reach her in time, but he was going to do everything in his power to try and accomplish it. He was only a few yards away when a single shot rang throughout the crowded room, drowning out the noise of the gunfire around him. <br><br>Suddenly he felt a hand touching his right shoulder and instantly all alarms in his mind went of full alert. With lightning quick movements his left hand snapped forward to grip around the wrist of the person touching him, yanking their form towards him as his left seemed to withdraw a tiny throwing knife from one of his many pockets lining the right side of his pants. Within the blink of an eye he had the blade of the throwing knife pressed gently to the assailant's neck. It was then that the world came into focus and he realized what was happening. "Oh my God...." he said, immediately releasing the stewardess as he let the knife fall to the floor.<br><br>"I'm so sorry... I.... I'm sorry..." he said, looking towards her, his wide eyes showing the large amount of remorse that was currently flooding his mind. The stewardess looked shocked beyond words, a hand pressed to her chest, looking as if she might pass out, "We are arriving in Atlanta..." she breathed, though it was obvious she was completely frightened by the ordeal. "Thank you..." Marcus said, as gently and comforting as he could, but the stewardess said nothing, instead heading towards the front of the plane, occasionally glancing over her shoulder in his direction. Marcus let out a sigh, leaning forward in his seat to rest his knees on his elbows and his face in his palms, still trying to shake off the after effects of the dream.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Xiddeus</strong> on <strong>10-05-2010, 16:01:13</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Tank's eyes snapped open as the attendant reached for him, but he only looked at her and winked so as not to scare her.&nbsp; He knew he would survive a throat slash, that is what the armour was for, and medical attention was too close here anyway for it to be fatal.&nbsp; She stopped and almost looked to panic, but quickly calmed as he did not move.&nbsp; A small smile broke his face and she smiled back, grateful one of these soldiers was still human to some degree... if she only knew how human they all were, she would have wept at their pains.<br><br>He quietly stood and walked to the back to grab his gear, his hands passed over each of his team mates.&nbsp; Close over Mea's sleeping head, barely over the seat above Marcus as he seemed to be collecting himself, Tank stopped for a second and placed his hand upon the man's shoulder for an instant, not quite a gentle squeeze, but friendly enough so as not to startle the man.&nbsp; As he passed Gerad he clapped him in the back of the head in a brotherly fashion, Mea and Gerad were used to this by now, it was Tank's own way of letting them know he had them in his thoughts on mission, but not actually saying it.&nbsp; He quickly re-checked his gear and returned to his seat, full battle-rattle and ready to rock.&nbsp; He looked at the stewardess whom he was sure needed a valium after this flight and motioned to her, "Stewardess, I think their pillows were just too lumpy." he called back to her with a grin.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Geradine</strong> on <strong>11-05-2010, 09:41:29</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Gerad had been awake before the stewardess came to wake him, and noted the relief on her face as she noticed his eyes were already open. "it's ok, i don't bite. hard." Gerad smirked a bit as the stewardess's eyebrows shot up into her hairline and a slight smile formed on her face. he felt more than heard Yousef coming up behind him, and wasn't suprised when when he got thumped in the back of the head hard enough to send him facefirst into the seat in front of him. already used to this before missons, he had set up his pillow on the seat in front of him to cushion the impact. he remembered the first mission he had with them. Yousef had just recently gotten used to him being on the team, and started to thump him on the back of the head before every mission. first time Yousef did, it about broke Gerad's nose. it <em>did</em> make it hard to breathe out of his nose for a few days. "i think you've gotten stronger, Tank. i felt the seat through the pillow this time." Gerad straightened his glasses after pulling his face out of the pillow, and grabbed his duffel, having slept with the majority of his gear already in place.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>KittyRivera</strong> on <strong>16-05-2010, 07:23:36</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				~*{Please check the newest post in the OOC thread http://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=64961.msg3039430#new} (http://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=64961.msg3039430#new})*~
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>KittyRivera</strong> on <strong>21-05-2010, 22:40:27</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				She woke with the pressure of a feminine hand on her shoulder. Blinking the fog of sleep from her eyes, she looked up into a stewardess' pleasantly smiling face.&nbsp; "We've reached Atlanta, ma'am." She didn't recall dreaming, but her brief nap had left her nerves jangled. Perhaps it was just pre-battle nerves. She dug into a pocket of her biosuit vest, digging up a Tums and popping it into her mouth.<br><br>She stood stiffly, stretching the kinks out of her muscles. "Thanks. Can I get another water before we leave?"&nbsp; The flight attendant nodded and returned to the front of the plane, leaving Mea to gather her things.<br><br>The rest of the team was awake and silently unpacking their gear from the luggage racks, sleepy-eyed and tense with sudden expectation. Mea slung her backpack across her shoulder and tucked her laptop under her arm, pushing stray hair out of her face.&nbsp; "Everyone ready to go?" The flight attendant returned with her bottle of water, Mea thanked her, and eyed the door.<br><br>"Now here comes the fun part..."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Cameron182</strong> on <strong>22-05-2010, 06:37:34</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				After a few moments Marcus finally composed himself, bringing in a few slow and deep breaths, exhaling the tension in his muscles and feelings his mind beginning to calm. He felt Yousef's giant hand patting his shoulder, had he been a smaller man it would have shaken him thoroughl, but Marcus was fairly good-sized and very solid, so it only rocked him a little as he looked towards the man, figuring it had to be some type of 'pre-mission' ritual that the odd man particapted in. <br><br>He then finally exhaled and stood up, raising his arms high into the air as a series of cracks and pops went rattling up and down the length of his spine, spreading to his back and his shoulders, sounding almost like a mini set of Black Cats being lit at once. "Oh God.... that felt great..." he said, in pure ecstacy as he relished the moment of pleasure that the release of stress in his joints provided. <br><br>He took a step forward, moving towards the plethora of bladed weapons that lay scattered out infront of him, looking like it would take hours for him to properly assemble all of his gear on his person, however Marcus snapped his hands forward and began to snatch various daggers and blades, the soft sound of steel whistling through the air as he spun them around his fingers, placing them in different pockets and holsters on his person. His movements were fast, with practiced precision and within only a few seconds, the myriad of blades were all placed neatly on his body, with only the single katana strapped to his back being visible, as well as the two curved daggers strapped around his waist, the others hidden from plain sight.<br><br>He turned to look towards the others, and then began to move towards exit to the plane, eager to get out of the enclosed space and out into the open. He turned his eyes towards Mea as they began to exit the plane, "Now maybe with a little less excitement next time...?" He said in a friendly joking tone, casting a playful wink in her direction before he hopped out onto the exit ramp and made his way towards the tarmac.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Geradine</strong> on <strong>23-05-2010, 04:29:21</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Gerad was the next out of the plane, blinking slightly in the sudden natural light. his eyes adjusted quickly, though, and were quick to spot any and all possible targets and sniper spots. with his practiced eyes, he counted 4 marshals waiting at the end of the ramp, looking ever so slightly confused at the blade on Marcus's back, standard 9mm pistols in hip holsters hidden under their jackets. there were two sedans, windows tinted and most likely bulletproof. He also saw 2 more standing on the walkway outside of the Control Tower, which had the sun conveniently behind it at the moment. this all took the few seconds he was walking down the ramp. as soon as he stepped off, he immediately stepped to the side to let whomever was behind him in front of him. his glasses had darkened with the sunlight, and his face was passive as he waited.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>KittyRivera</strong> on <strong>23-05-2010, 04:36:01</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Mea left the plane after Gerad, shielding her eyes from the glare of the sun.<br><br>Midsummer Georgia heat shimmered off the tarmac in waves, searing her face and exposed hands. Even though the biosuit could be uncomfortable at times, she was glad for it's thermal protection. <br><br>Adjusting the strap of her backpack, she craned around to look for Yousef's exit, digging at the same time in a vest pocket for her cell phone.&nbsp; The taxi was already waiting for them outside of the airport.<br><br>"Come on guys, we're going to have Masino on my ass if we're late."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Xiddeus</strong> on <strong>25-05-2010, 17:06:08</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Tank stepped out of the climate controlled jet and stretched in the welcome heat, he was Israeli after all, he was born in a desert environment, trained there, lived there, and even had sex there.&nbsp; He was quite adjusted to heat, in all its natural aspects.&nbsp; Noticing Mea's look, he grinned at her stupidly, "What, not hot enough for you?" he quipped at her and stepped down to the Taxi.&nbsp; He clapped her lightly on the shoulder as he passed and squeezed into the middle seat.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>KittyRivera</strong> on <strong>26-05-2010, 02:59:49</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				She winced at the thunderous smack on her shoulder, rolling it to make sure he hadn't dislocated it in his vigor. She unshouldered her bag into the trunk of the taxi van, keeping her laptop tucked securely under her arm.<br><br>She piled in, adjusting herself awkwardly as Yousef somehow managed to cram his entire body into the seat next to her. She looked up at him pointedly, a faint glisten of sweat beginning to bead across her forehead, nearly hidden by the thick side-swept bangs that hid one eye. "Comfy, then?" she quipped.<br><br>After the rest of the crew managed to crowd in, the taxi distinctly began to smell of biosuit material and the faint tang of sweat.&nbsp; "Air conditioner, please?" She chirped at the driver, who nodded, flicking the AC on to full. Once the doors were shut and everyone seemed comfortable, she gave the driver the address of the Condo.<br><br>"According to the report, a van will be waiting for us outside of the condo, fully stocked with our gear."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Cameron182</strong> on <strong>26-05-2010, 04:59:14</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Marcus let out a loud yawn, stretching his arms upwards in the backseat of the taxi-van, sitting next to Gerad. He couldn't see anything that was going on infront of him, as Yousef's massive bulk was taking up ninety-percent of his viewing space.&nbsp; Marcus was used to being subjected to all sorts of different environments, he'd spent a great deal of time in the Middle East with its tremendously dry heat, and various other places. However Atlanta held a certain humidity to it that made the heat that much worse and Marcus found beads of sweat building up on his brow. <br><br>He'd been forced to pull the katana in its sheathe off of his back so he'd be able to get into the taxi-van's low-roofed interior, and now it rested gently between his legs, but with the other gear he kept loaded up on his form, he was barely able to move in the cramped environment. He had a feeling that if they crashed, he would undoubtedly be stuck in the back seat. Thankfully the AC was kicked on and the smell of Yousef's massive and sweaty form was drowned out somewhat. "When's the last time you showered big guy...?" He said in a joking tone as he reached forward to pat one of Yousef's gigantic shoulder muscles, letting him know that he was just playing around.<br><br>He let his icy blue eyes glance back out the window, watching Atlanta roll by as they progressed. This wasn't the most impressive of ways to arrive to a mission, driven by a yellow taxi-van, but then again it could be worse.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Geradine</strong> on <strong>26-05-2010, 17:21:42</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Gerad had long learned how to make his body take up an incredibly small amount of space. first, so he could find sniper spots most people wouldn't think of, and then after he joined trionfo, just so he could fit into the same vehicle as Yousef. he wasn't bothered much by the heat, although he did sweat profusely. he was slightly greatful when the hum of the AC kicked up, because his sweat started to evaporate quickly in the cool.<br>"When's the last time you showered big guy?" Marcus asked jokingly as he thumped on Yousef's shoulder. "i don't think he does." quiped Gerad as he smirked and made himself smaller for the possible counter to his remark.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Xiddeus</strong> on <strong>27-05-2010, 16:53:53</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Yousef made sure to lean extra hard whenever the cab forced him to lean into Gerad's side.&nbsp; "Always the same jokes, never something new.&nbsp; I could just step out of the shower naked and covered in water, you would still make same joke, and here I am not even sweating.&nbsp; Look at you, is like waterfall in here between the two of you."&nbsp; He stopped and took a deep breath, "Me, I am as dry as the desert heat itself... like oven even."&nbsp; He actually did his level best to not squish Mea too much whenever the van lurched the other direction.&nbsp; He hoped the van had a TV though, he was missing one of his favorite shows... oh well, he could always hulu it later on.&nbsp; He wondered if David and Gina were finally going to hook up on The Last Island, he loved that show... and now that Jenny was gone, he had no one to watch it with.&nbsp; He pushed the sudden wave of sadness from his mind and dropped his shades in place with a quick lift of his eyebrows and pulled them back tight by using his ears... just in case his eyes tried to let anyone in on his feelings.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>KittyRivera</strong> on <strong>27-05-2010, 19:51:26</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The taxi droned through the mid-day Atlanta traffic until it found it's way into the suburbs. It was a nice neighborhood, gated, with manicured lawns, and almost every driveway had a BMW in it.&nbsp; Mea felt herself gradually relax, the goal was closer now and the pre-battle butterflies were dying out. It was time to focus now.<br><br>The van was up ahead. Innocuously decorated like a delivery truck, the paint job hid the business inside. She didn't know if there would be an extop waiting for them, or if they were going to be linking up back in Rome. <br><br>The taxi pulled up in front of the condo's gate, the driver twisted his head around to look at Mea "Seven sixty five, Ma'am."&nbsp; Mea managed to get an arm around in the crowded taxi, digging out a wad of rolled up cash from her vest.&nbsp; She handed the driver a tenner. "Keep the change."<br><br>"Thanks."<br><br>"Sure thing. Come on, guys."<br><br>They piled out of the taxi, shouldering bags and gathering weapons. Before they reached the van, the back door slid up, revealing Gabe's smiling face.&nbsp; Mea grinned, allowing Gabe to help her into the back of the van.&nbsp; "Hey, what? You take a red-eye here or something?"<br><br>"Pretty much. You'll be in the US for a while, Masino thought you could use the help."<br><br>"Sounds good, man. Let's get started."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Cameron182</strong> on <strong>28-05-2010, 04:54:28</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Marcus eyed the van as the back door swung open and Mea spoke with the man inside. "Another van...? Here at Trionfo... we love our quality time with one another..." He muttered under his breath in a joking tone as he walked towards the van, following behind Mea. He made sure to keep his eyes respectfully away from her backside as she climbed into the van. Not that he wasn't tempted to peak, but he did happen to possess a few gentleman elements in his behavior, believe it or not. He slipped the strap of the duffel bag over his opposing shoulder, and then stepped upwards into the confines of the van's interior itself.<br><br>Marcus could feel his blood pumping faster than normal, flooding his system with adrenaline at the upcoming mission. Even though it wasn't supposed to be a dangerous mission, atleast this first part wasn't, he always made sure to be prepared for whatever might happen, and that meant keeping himself on high alert. Even if he tried to relax, he wouldn't be able to, his mind was already committed to the possible actions he might have to take, and it was making sure his body was in prime condition to react if enough stimuli was presented. <br><br>He watched Mea as she spoke to the man for a few brief moments, his eyes unreadable as he observed her features changing and distorting with her words, the slight mannerisms of her jaw and lip-line, even the body language of her hands as she spoke, he found each of these appealing, and each of these so similar to Rachel.... he wondered if he would ever be able to get past the fact that she constantly reminded him of her. He needed to have a conversation with her later, once they'd grown a bit more comfortable around one another, he just wondered if he would ever have the chance with the other two around constantly. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>KittyRivera</strong> on <strong>02-06-2010, 00:19:28</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				She fished a hair tie from some pocket in her vest, rapidly twisting her hair into a bun and securing it tightly to the crown of her head.&nbsp; She unzipped her bag, found her VISR, and adjusted it around her head. As soon as it made contact with her skin, the tiny eyepiece lit up with power.<br><br>"Okay, so what's the deal with the condo?" She turned to Gabe, hands on her hips.<br><br>Gabe sat down in the office chair in front of the computer monitor, calling up the blueprint of the house. "There's been no activity in the house for nearly four days. No one in or out. The Marshals bugged the place, but there hasn't been anything on the wire. You'll be going in through the two main entrances," he motioned to the front door. "Major Van, Gerad, you'll take the back balcony entrance, clear the top floor. Tank, Valentine, you'll breech the front, clear the foyer, living room, kitchen and dining room. You'll need to find his laptop, which I believe he keeps in his bedroom, or office."<br><br>Mea nodded slowly, eyeing the screen intently, as if trying to memorize the condo's layout.&nbsp; "Okay, sounds good. Gerad, you're with me. Let's go, boys."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Xiddeus</strong> on <strong>02-06-2010, 17:00:52</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"Roger," Yousef acknowledged his orders as he snuffed out his latest cigarette.&nbsp; He grinned like a hungry wolf under his shades as he readied himself for action.&nbsp; "Moving." <br><br>He clapped a hand on Valentine's shoulder as he exited the van, "Come on cowboy.&nbsp; We go in the front.&nbsp; Standard entry and clear.&nbsp; Left, Right." he said, pointing to himself first, letting Valentine know that Yousef wanted left. He hefted his Scar and moved to get into position.&nbsp; He had to wait for the go code before moving in any further.&nbsp; He chose a spot and hunkered next to it, waiting for Valentine to check the door, Yousef was the one to enter first, it was how things were done.&nbsp; He took the hits, he could handle anything except a straight shot to the head... or an armour piercing high caliber high velocity round, similar to a sniper shot.&nbsp; He couldn't take that, especially in multiples.&nbsp; <br><br>he blinked away any reverie that was trying to form, "In Position." he subvocalized as he watched Valentine carefully, knowing that he knew his stuff, but still, he was new.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Geradine</strong> on <strong>02-06-2010, 19:42:11</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Gerad was at the back with Mea when Yousef signalled his ready. calling up the schematics of the building with a blink, he signalled that he would take the left when they entered.he got into position and pulled out his pistol, quickkly attatching a reflex (red-dot) sight to it. he nodded his ready to Mea.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Cameron182</strong> on <strong>02-06-2010, 21:21:44</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Marcus looked towards Yousef with a friendly smirk as he heard the large man call him 'cowboy'. "Yee-haw..." he replied with a slight chuckle as he followed after the massive man, his icy blue eyes constantly dancing about the premises of the mansion around them, looking for any signs or hint of activity going on in or outside of the building. Adrenaline flooded his veins, making time seem to move slower around him, his mind quickly taking in every possible detail it could, he was fully ready for whatever might be thrown at them.<br><br>Marcus nodded once when Yousef signaled that he was going to be taking the left side, and Marcus the right. He immediately moved his back against the wall, on the opposite side of the door as Yousef and with lightning quick movements, he held a long, curved and serrated dagger in his right hand, the point aimed outwards, and his left held a plethora of throwing knives, fanned out across his knuckles. His athletic form was tense beneath the biosuit, a coiled spring ready to burst into action at a second's notice. <br><br>"In position..." he said softly into the communication device built into the biosuit. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>KittyRivera</strong> on <strong>03-06-2010, 17:57:02</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Mea waited until she received the Ready signal from all units on her HUD before unlatching the grappling hook at her belt. She swung it rhythmically, tossing it lightly up onto the railing of the condo's balcony. It's large hooked teeth bit into the soft wood, and she tugged the rope hard before nodding satisfaction.<br><br>The two heavier men would have probably broken the railing before even managing up a foot of the rope. Gabe was smart to send her and Gerad in through the back instead.<br><br>She silently shimmied up the rope, her strong sinewy arms propelling her rapidly upwards until she was able to hook an arm on the railing. It creaked, but held fast as she swung herself over, motioning for Gerad to start up.<br><br>She pinned herself tightly against the outside wall of the condo, drawing her 9mm. There was a slight tingle of black apprehension twisting in her belly...something wasn't right. They had to stay sharp. There wasn't a sound from the condo, but that didn't mean they wouldn't find anyone inside.<br><br>After Gerad made it to the balcony, she gave the Go signal over the VISR, hearing the front door get smashed open and the rapid heavy footsteps of her teammates downstairs. The balcony's glass door was locked, so she motioned to Gerad to pop it open with the glassbreaker.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Xiddeus</strong> on <strong>04-06-2010, 17:38:33</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Bam! Yousef kicked the door off of its hinges, dropping the thing like a brick and he pulled back against the wall, looking behind him then poked his head in quickly before rushing forward to cover behind a couch.&nbsp; A couch? Come on Yousef, what the hell? These things are not good for cover, only for hiding your position.&nbsp; He combat rolled up and to a wall, but still no sound except for what came from a TV which was left on, but not any movement... He looked around and saw a bit of pizza sitting on a plate half eaten and starting to mold.&nbsp; <br><br>Yousef looked to Valentine as he checked the rest of the bottom floor of the little condo... Nothing.&nbsp; Yousef turned the TV off and subvocalized to Mea, "Ground floor clear. No signs."... Yousef suddenly got that old feeling, the one you get before something bad happens... He moved to the stairs and looked up to the second floor, waiting for Mea to give the all clear... Come on girl, don't let something be up there to get you, he thought, the concern on his face plainly evident as he watched and listened.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Geradine</strong> on <strong>07-06-2010, 00:26:01</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Yousef felt more than heard the glassbreaker, kind of a slight vibrating in his bones, followed by the crash of glass.<br><br>"das est nicht ser gut..." Gerad looked around the bedroom, his pistol following the movement of his eyes as they scanned the room. "bedroom clear, but it looks like we missed one hell of a party. and not the good kind, either." Gerad checked both doors, finding the closet empty, and blood on the sink and floor of the bathroom. "we have one for the body bag, upstairs bathroom." he moved to the third door and positioned himself on the left side, squishing into a corner, and pulled out his tac-knife and held it beside his pistol as one would a flashlight. "upstairs bedroom clear, ready to move when everyone else is."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Cameron182</strong> on <strong>07-06-2010, 03:12:44</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Marcus watched as Yousef busted the door in, Marcus shaking his head slightly as he followed in silently behind the large man. If there did happen to be anyone home, the element of surprise would be null and void. As they entered the room, Yousef immediately ran for cover behind the large sofa in the living room, while Marcus' eyes danced around the room and he immediately slipped into the dimly lit right side of the room, keeping his form low to the ground as he held the dagger upwards in his right hand, the throwing knives in his left at the ready. With Yousef's grand entrance, Marcus was fairly sure that if anyone was occupying the room, they would have completely overlooked Marcus and instead placed full attention on the barreling behemoth crashing towards them.<br><br>Marcus moved along the wall, his knees bent as he slipped along silently, he was barely visible save for his blonde hair, giving him the perfect advantage to blind-side anyone that happened to be in their way. However he watched as Yousef stood upwards, giving him the sign that the room was clear, before Marcus stood up straight, seeming almost to materialize from the shadows as he walked towards Yousef. Marcus continued to scan the room as Yousef spoke to Mea over the commlink, noticing what looked to be the remains of someone's dinner just laid out in the open. Apparently the occupants of the house had left in a hurry, or they'd been taken out without warning, either way, Marcus doubted anyone was still around.<br><br>He moved silently along behind Yousef, noticing the man's eyebrows draw downward as Marcus seemed to share his feelings, getting a nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach that something just wasn't quite right. He moved towards the right side of the staircase, leaning his back against the wall next to it as his icy blues watched Yousef, waiting for his go-ahead.<br><br>(Sorry the post is so shitty, I'm incredibly hungover at the moment lol.)
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>KittyRivera</strong> on <strong>07-06-2010, 15:31:11</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The smell of blood was thick in the air as she moved into the condo behind Gerad, catlike in silence, slipping from shadow to shadow. Once they cleared the bedroom, she motioned Gerad to stay and keep an eye open near the bedroom door. The sound of the running shower stifled her footsteps as she swiftly circled the open bathroom door, her 9mm drooping at the sight of a corpse on the floor.<br><br>She swallowed reflexively, wrinkling her nose at the pong of old blood beginning to decompose and keyed up her subvocals.&nbsp; "Found Corsini. Dead, upstairs bathroom."<br><br>She reached over and stuck her hand in the running water of the shower. It was ice cold. "Looks like he's been here for a while."&nbsp; She tucked her nine into her holster, brushing her bangs out of her face with a heavy sigh.<br><br>"Call the Marshals. They'll need to get a coroner and a team in here. Let's find his computer and get the hell out of here. No One Touches Anything."<br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Xiddeus</strong> on <strong>07-06-2010, 20:11:37</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Yousef listened intently as Mea gave her report and then as Gabe acknowledged as he keyed in the Marshals.&nbsp; It was going to be one of those days, he keyed in himself, "Oy, remember the last Laptop we grabbed, so double check it before picking it up." He nodded to Valentine and started picking over the living room for the laptop, careful to not actually touch anything... <br><br>He stepped around the counter and looked over the fridge and kitchen area, no signs of struggle here, so the killer had to be let in, possibly an old friend or even a Marshall, or at least one that looked like a Marshall, "Major, any signs of force entry up there?&nbsp; Nothing besides my hole down here.&nbsp; Looks like a friendly got him."&nbsp; He flexed his muscles and let the adrenaline loose, trying to steady himself in case of anything surprising.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>KittyRivera</strong> on <strong>08-06-2010, 01:10:06</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"Oy, remember the last Laptop we grabbed, so double check it before picking it up."&nbsp; Tank's voice was slightly scratchy with static. She tapped her VISR, an old habit. "Roger that."<br><br>She motioned to Gerad to start sweeping the premises for the laptop, they searched through the bathroom and bedroom, but there were no signs of it.&nbsp; "Check the office. Most likely place." she flicked her chin towards the closed door, opposite the bedroom in the hall.<br><br>"I'll finish up here."<br><br>She withdrew a small camera from her backpack, and began snapping photos of the crime scene and body. Tank's voice broke in again. "Major, any signs of force entry up there?" <br><br>"Negative. Balcony was locked, windows look secure."<br><br>"Nothing besides my hole down here.&nbsp; Looks like a friendly got him."<br><br>&nbsp;"What are you thinking? Mole in the Marshals? Or Illuminati agents?" she replied, snapping a photo of Corsini's face. A few of his teeth were broken, laying scattered around the bathroom's blood spattered tile.&nbsp; She returned to the bedroom, tucking her camera away and fishing out her kit. She undid the locks, then pulled out gloves and a sample kit.<br><br>Snapping on the gloves, she went back to the body, knelt carefully, and delicately inserted the swab in the cadaver's open mouth.&nbsp; After collecting her sample, she sealed up the swab and collected her things.<br><br>"Any luck finding the computer Gerad?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Geradine</strong> on <strong>08-06-2010, 09:45:29</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Gerad moved to theonly other room on the top floor, finding the door unlocked and slightly ajar. Looking quickly in, he findds the room empty, and strangely immaculate after the chaos of the bedroom. on the desk was an open laptop.<br><br>"i think i did...but someone got to it before us."<br><br>Gerad quickly went over and found that it been wiped by a virus. "we're going to need a computer tech in here. whoever did this wiped the drive before he left. thankfully using a virus isn't total. we might be able to get bits and pieces..."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Xiddeus</strong> on <strong>11-06-2010, 18:22:58</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote"><a href="https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=65183.msg3126969#msg3126969">Quote from: Geradine on 08-06-2010, 09:45:29</a></div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote">"i think i did...but someone got to it before us."<br><br>Gerad quickly went over and found that it been wiped by a virus. "we're going to need a computer tech in here. whoever did this wiped the drive before he left. thankfully using a virus isn't total. we might be able to get bits and pieces..."<br></blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><br>Yousef listened as Gerad made his comment about needing a tech, "Don't call me for that, my fat fingers can barely turn the little thingies on."&nbsp; Uh-oh, he knew he opened himself up for that one after a comment like that.&nbsp; He waited for the inevitable before commenting back to Mea.<br><br><div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote"><a href="https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=65183.msg3125261#msg3125261">Quote from: satindesire on 08-06-2010, 01:10:06</a></div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote"> "What are you thinking? Mole in the Marshals? Or Illuminati agents?" she replied, snapping a photo of Corsini's face. A few of his teeth were broken, laying scattered around the bathroom's blood spattered tile.&nbsp; She returned to the bedroom, tucking her camera away and fishing out her kit. She undid the locks, then pulled out gloves and a sample kit.<br></blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><br>"Don't know.&nbsp; Has the Marshalls made mention?&nbsp; Has the padre?"&nbsp; He looked over the room again... something was just too fishy here... it was too simple.&nbsp; He always had things go wrong... but always with him, never his team.&nbsp; He prayed it was just combat jitters again.&nbsp; "Something is not sitting right in my bones, Mea.&nbsp; Gerad, be careful up there."&nbsp; It did not dawn on him that he had used the Major's first name over the comm, he never did that and if he had realized it, he would probably be kicking himself right now.&nbsp; But he was too focused on the area around them, listening intently, eyes peeled as if he could see through every little thing in the room.&nbsp; All he could hear was his heart beating within his chest, the clear background noise in his ear... static?&nbsp; Why was there static, when the van was right outside?&nbsp; Electronic interference?&nbsp; A bug?&nbsp; Everything about this place reminded him of Buenos Aires... when an assassin had bugged the room to find out when they were there, only to blow the place after they were too far in.&nbsp; They had been lucky then, the explosives had gone off in sequence instead of all at once, giving them time to escape the building itself.&nbsp; "Buenos Aires..." was all he said.<br><br>He looked over to Valentine again, "Alright cowboy.&nbsp; Find anything?&nbsp; I got nada in this room, nada in the kitchenette and nada anywhere else my big dumb Israeli eyes can see."&nbsp; <br><br>Please let my stupid feeling be wrong on this place.&nbsp; Please let this be as simple as it looks.&nbsp; Things went ary for Chris... I will not let them go awry for us.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>KittyRivera</strong> on <strong>11-06-2010, 19:08:47</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"We're going to need a computer tech in here. Whoever did this wiped the drive before he left. thankfully using a virus isn't total. We might be able to get bits and pieces..."<br><br>The static interrupted Tank's communication, "-zzzzbrrt! zzzsshshkkkMarshalls made mention?&nbsp; Has the padre?" She swallowed, clearing her throat dryly before replying to Tank "Nothing, no."<br><br>Mea shook her head and looked at Gerad tensely "We're on our own here, Gerad, no one else came from Trionfo with us."&nbsp; She eyed the HUD apprehensively "We've already been in here for three and a half minutes."&nbsp; She quietly padded into the office, her black combat boots crushing the carpet in soft kittenlike steps. Five minutes was the standard time limit for clearing a building, whether it was full of hostiles or a Code White.&nbsp; <br><br>"It doesn't look rigged from the outside, that doesn't mean it's not." She unvelcroed a pouch in her vest, withdrawing a can of aresol. "This should take care of just about anything that might blow."&nbsp; Holding the nozzle of the can near the computer, she began to spray it with an ice-cold fog that lowered the temperature in the office by a significant amount. After just a few moments, the laptop was completely frozen. She lifted it carefully, crouching to eye the desk underneath, looking for traps.<br><br>Nothing.<br><br>Heaving a sigh of relief, she checked the hud. Nearing on five minutes. "Let's get the hell out of here."<br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Geradine</strong> on <strong>12-06-2010, 21:02:33</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"I completely agree with you. the back of my neck is itching, and it only does that when somethings sneaking up on me... Yousef, we're out. me and Mea are going out the way we came in. we'll meet you out front." Gerad moved quickly to the bedroom, standing by the broken glass door to the balcony while waiting for Mea to put the laptop in a thermal bag. Gerad looked outside, the itch on his neck getting worse by the second. "we might want to hurry...something is extremely off about this."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>KittyRivera</strong> on <strong>12-06-2010, 23:37:50</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"I completely agree with you. the back of my neck is itching, and it only does that when somethings sneaking up on me... Yousef, we're out. me and Mea are going out the way we came in. we'll meet you out front." <br><br>Mea was jarred slightly by the informal use of her first name. Usually, the men called her "Major Van" or Vanni while on the mission. It spoke of his distraction and the urgency he felt. She plopped her backpack onto the desk and unzipped it, fetching the thermal sheath from it's interior. Gingerly slipping the laptop into it's protective plasticine, she eased this into her pack and zipped it, shouldering the bag once again.<br><br>"Let's go." she cued the evac signal on her HUD. "we might want to hurry...something is extremely off about this." Gerad urged, his voice tense and sharp. Mea shook her head "Okay, we're going."<br><br>From the static over the VISR, Marcus chimed in from downstairs "Hang on. Something weird..."<br><br>"No time!" Mea barked, stepping out onto the balcony into the oppressive Atlanta heat. "No, I think this might be important."<br><br>She gripped the rope and heaved herself over the railing, her gloves making a burring zip as she slid down the length, landing in the overgrown grass with a whuff of breath leaving her lungs.&nbsp; "Fine, take it and let's go!"<br><br>She didn't wait for Gerad, knowing he could rappel himself down easily. They had gone climbing together many times, she knew he was more than competent.<br><br>"It's a safe."&nbsp; Valentine intoned, his voice was thoughtful.&nbsp; Mea withdrew her nine from the holster and pressed herself against the side of the condo, peeking around the corner for any perps.&nbsp; "Fine, just get it to the van."<br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Xiddeus</strong> on <strong>15-06-2010, 03:08:52</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Yousef sauntered over to Valentine and looked over the safe, he had seen enough traps to know when one was or not and did not see any obvious signs.&nbsp; "I got this cowboy, I don't need you hurting your pretty little nails doing the heavy lifting." he joked as he gripped the bolted safe and ripped it free, some of the building coming free as well. "Oops." he simply stated as he noticed.&nbsp; <br><br>"Ok, Major, we are moving back to the Van."&nbsp; He motioned the go ahead as Valentine was already moving.&nbsp; It was at that moment, he noticed the hidden panel... "What the... " a quick glance and he saw a remote transceiver attached... "Oh, no... Run! Get Clear NOW!" he yelled both into the open net and aloud as he barreled forward, throwing Valentine and the safe outside the building through a window, one which was simply too small for his massive frame.&nbsp; <br><br>Tell tale flashes from the transceiver told him that it was only seconds before it went up, and he knew he would not be fast enough to clear out, even as his lumbering steps were taking him towards the living room... "Not again..." he voiced, still on the open net, itwas all he could utter out as he noticed an age old image from the water, a boat and a trail of smoke and vapor that he instantly recognized as an RPG. He had hoped that the transceiver had been attached to a bomb, but it seemed only to warn of the safe.&nbsp; Whatever was inside must be important.&nbsp; The RPG shattered the glass and whistled by his head, deafening him for just a second before the rocket hit a wall behind him.&nbsp; His last thought before the wave of force rolled over him was of Mea.&nbsp; Regret that he had not told her sooner.&nbsp; Regret that he had let the feelings for her lay back and not getting the courage to tell her before he died.&nbsp; The concussion wave threw him backward and off his feet as his arms instinctively went up around his head as he flew up and away, luckily out of the window the RPG had entered from.&nbsp; Flame gouted out with him, hiding him from view as he flew, he wondered in that instant if he looked like a super hero, the dashing Fabio or Tom Cruise surfing the flames... but he doubted that as he felt his shoulder crash into concrete and his arm whip around him painfully.&nbsp; The world went black for a moment... then pain wrenched him from his wonderous sleep and he knew he was still alive... broken and battered but alive.&nbsp; A groan escaped his lips as he tried to move, but he could not... <br><br>My legs, he thought, as he tried to move them, still not responding, but he could still not hear either and so he just lay there, a pool of his own blood growing... probably from the glass he thought.&nbsp; The smell of charred flesh assaulted him and he opened his eyes... I bet I have no eyebrows, he joked inwardly as pain tried to mull his thoughts.&nbsp; I am Yousef The TANK Ahmoud... I will not die until I have told Mea, I will not die here on some random mission in some podunk condo block with a stupidly aimed RPG round... I am YOUSEF THE MUTHATANK AHMOUD!!! I AM NOBODIES BIATCH AND I WILL LIVE!"&nbsp; he had started out thinking it, but did not realize he had ended it with actually yelling it incoherently as he wrenched his good arm around and under him, slowly dragging himself from the debris that had fallen on him.&nbsp; He was too weak however and could not move himself, he looked over through pain dulled eyes and saw his comm bead was busted nearby.&nbsp; No one would know he survived, probably not even know he was under the debris outside the living room.&nbsp; Looking atop him, it was the flatscreen TV he had admired that was atop him, along with part of the upper wall.&nbsp; Irony, he thought as he started to laugh.&nbsp; He still could not feel his legs and he was still bleeding badly, but he was alive and God had smiled on him once again.&nbsp; Now, he just had to wait till his team found him... He stopped trying to get free and lay down upon the cement...&nbsp; Perhaps, a small nap would be ok...
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Cameron182</strong> on <strong>15-06-2010, 11:10:41</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Marcus examined the safe with narrowed eyes, going over every single detail of it, his fingers brushing its surface lightly. His mind was flying as he tried to analyze every possible angle for there to be some type of triggering device that would set off an explosion or some other unwanted outcome, however he couldn't find anything, atleast with the short bit of time he'd been given before Yousef's massive form had brushed him aside and with the finesse of an elephant, ripped the safe from the wall. "Oh, thanks Gigantor...." He said with a light smirk to Yousef's comment, reaching up to readjust his gloves, making sure they fit tightly, that sick feeling in his gut coming back with full force, something was going to happen, he could feel it.<br><br>It was then that he saw Yousef's eyes snap towards the open hole left by the safe being unceremoniously ripped from the wall and his eyes went to the same spot, widening suddenly. "Oh sh.......IIIIIITTT!" His sentence being finished as he was thrown backwards suddenly by Yousef, feeling himself flying through the air and straight through the glass panes to soar out over open space, over a dozen feet off of the ground. <br><br>Time seemed to slow around Marcus as he watched the rocket-propelled grenade soar in through a window to the right of him, and fly directly towards Yousef. At the same time he followed the vapor trail back towards the boat floating in the river right next to the house's lavish backyard. That was a variable they hadn't been anticipating, and now they were paying for it. It had seemed they'd been under surveillance the entire time they'd been in the estate.<br><br>Marcus' hands seemed to move like lightning as they went to various pockets of his gear, coming out with handfuls of small silver throwing knives that seemed to instantly be sent screaming through the air, flying towards the small boat with the sound of metal slicing through air at a rapid speed. <br><br>The force of the throw sent Marcus into a spin as he began to descend towards the ground, the rapid THUMP THUMP THUMP that he could hear meant only that his collection of throwing knives had found their mark on the boat, which was a good distance away, before he heard a single scream and the engine suddenly revving. Atleast he'd gotten one of them, though he hadn't had a good view of exactly how many there had been.<br><br>However none of that mattered now, because he was rapidly approaching the ground from a fall that he hadn't been ready for, and his body was flailing wildly, gravity and momentum keeping him from pulling himself into any kind of graceful landing, and with a sickening thud he hit the grass, bounced slightly into the air from the impact and landed once more.<br><br>He didn't know how long he was out, it could have been minutes, and it could have been seconds, all he knew was that when he felt consciousness flooding back into his mind, it brought with it pain, and the sudden choking sensation of having the wind knocked out of him. He forced himself onto his back, gritting his teeth as he forced air into his lungs, and with a shocking jab of white-hot pain through his sides, he realized many of his ribs had been broken in the fall. <em>Come on Marcus... get up. You've been hurt worse than this before.... you still have teammates caught in the crossfire.... make sure they're safe!</em> He screamed at himself internally, letting out a loud groan of agony as he rolled his body over, pushing upwards with his hands and bringing himself to his knees.<br><br>His eyes looked about his area with a glazed-over look covering them, revealing the pain that was nearly blinding him. He was disoriented, confused, and hurt, but he was determined. He placed one hand on the ground and tried to force himself to his feet, the pain causing him to stumble forward a few steps before falling to the ground. He shakily raised his head, noticing Yousef's charred form several yards infront of him, bleeding profusely on the concrete. He gritted his teeth, every muscle in his body straining and roaring with pain as he began to slowly pull himself forward with one arm towards his fallen comrade, the other one not wanting to work properly. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Geradine</strong> on <strong>15-06-2010, 18:36:27</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Gerad heard the telltale WHOOSH of an rpg, and pulled Mea back behind the corner of the builing just as the wall blew apart. as mea headed around front to check on the other two, Gerad heard a scream and the sound of a boat engine revving. "aw, hell. pistols were not meant to be used at this range..." he mumbled to himself as he ran to the edge of the house and took aim at the speeding boat, he saw the one with the rpg tube down, something flashing silver in the sunlight stuck in his chest, two more over him, and one piloting the boat. he fired off three shots, and saw the two checking on the body go down, one holding his arm and the other holding his leg, while the pilot got off lucky as the windshield shattered. Gerad then ran around the house to see Mea helping a struggling Marcus, and Yousef laying half buried and bleeding, but breathing. he moved to unbury Yousef, and try to get Yousef's hulking frame somewhat upright on his own lean frame.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>KittyRivera</strong> on <strong>15-06-2010, 21:27:54</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				She screeched in surprise as Gerad's strong hand clamped vicelike around her bicep, yanking her roughly back away from the side yard of the condo. She crashed against him with a whoosh of air from her lungs, her momentum toppling them both to the ground as the explosion clapped like thunder, deafening her. She landed on Gerad painfully, cracking her head on his chin, but managed to roll off his chest without damaging him further. Reflexively her hand checked for blood on her scalp.<br><br>She was content to lay there for a moment, groaning, trying to shake the stars out of her eyes. Then Gerad was up, and she was up, running towards the front of the condo where it was a scene straight from Dante's Inferno. Her ears rang mercilessly, and she could barely make out the sounds of sirens and people screaming from a great muddy distance. <br><br>Soot tossed by the wind darkened her face, ash paled her hair, making her look ghostlike in the smoke.&nbsp; She was on autopilot, running, tumbling to her knees in the debris, long painted nails breaking, fingers tearing bloody at the rubble that pinned Marcus down. <br><br>"Hold on, cowboy, hold on!" she choked on the acrid fumes that thickened the air, making it impossible to see more than a foot away. She coughed, wiping her eyes with her forearm, smearing blood across her forehead. Whose blood it was, was anyone's guess.<br><br>"Yousef!" She cried, frantic eyes scanning the wreckage as she managed to pull Marcus to his feet, easing his arm around her shoulders to help him walk.&nbsp; The other arm was limp, oddly swinging, probably broken.<br><br>"YOUSEF! GERAD!" She hurried him as fast as she could with Marcus's considerable weight bowing her, where Gabe stood tense by the back of the van, 9mm in hand. "Get him into the van! Call 911!" she cried, voice cracking in fear.<br><br>Gabe nodded, shoving the pistol back into it's holster and pulled Marcus from Mea's shoulders. She coughed again, waving smoke from in front of her face. "I have to-" she was racked by another cough. Gabe thrust his chin towards the scene "Go, go!"<br><br>She turned, running, her black ninja slippers finding purchase in the questionable footing. Gerad had Yousef, but he looked bad, tattered and bloody, and one of his arms looked badly broken as well. "Oh...fuck-!" It was whimpered, helpless, thick with emotion. "Yousef!" he was barely conscious, an odd grin twisting his mouth. The biosuit had thankfully taken most of the projectile damage, but the skin where he hadn't been covered was burnt red and covered in bloody scratches. <br><br>She took the side of his bulk not supported by Gerad, and between the two of them, managed to get him to the back of the van where Gabe was already waiting. <br><br>"We have to get them to The Doctor. NOW."&nbsp; Gabe nodded "I have the coordinates laid out. We'll be there in minutes."<br><br><br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Xiddeus</strong> on <strong>15-06-2010, 22:21:31</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<em>The mortars and RPG's hammered the small town and buildings around him as he ran for cover.&nbsp; "Ahmir!&nbsp; Come on!" he yelled at the other boy as he stopped and ran back to pull him along.&nbsp; "We have to reach the shelter!" he yelled over the surrounding sounds of battle as Makerva's rolled past, he stopped and saluted them, they were the men and women he aspired to be, fighting the Holy War to protect the Lands of God.&nbsp; After, he pushed Ahmir on and they both bolted for the next cover, as the shelling commenced in earnest, Palestinian forces popping up all around to ambush the Makerva Company.&nbsp; Yousef pushed Ahmir down and snatched up the rifle of a fallen Israeli soldier and trained in on one of the Dogs... he went down in a hail of bullets.&nbsp; Grinning like a demon, Yousef helped Ahmir to his feet and they ran once again.&nbsp; Only a few feet and they were at the shelter, forcing the boy inside, he saw that his father and little Imehna were already there.&nbsp; All three embracing and Abrahim Ahmoud motioned for his son to join them.&nbsp; Yousef started forward, then turned as he heard the sound that would haunt him forever, the sound that would forever make him falter and hesitate... WHOOSH, he looked back and saw a Palestinian Dog had fired an RPG right at the entrance... Yousef leaped as if to catch the Rocket... but it was simply too fast, and the trail passed him by and into the shelter...</em><br><br>Yousef mumbled in his unconscious state, in his native Yiddish, the language of his people, even growing up Catholic, he grew up in a primarily Jewish neighborhood.&nbsp; "How... is cowboy's... manicure?" he haltingly asked, his eyes still closed as he felt of his body from within... he was hurt bad, he still could not feel his legs... Opening his eyes, he rolled his head down to look over himself, he was in the A Van, and an angel was hovering over him... No, it was close enough... It was Mea.&nbsp; "Mea... I... need to say... something..." he coughed and some blood came out... "That... isn't good..." he rolled his head back to look at Mea again.&nbsp; "I told you once before... in Russia... it got you shot... because I... was not looking... for trouble on... cake walk.&nbsp; I never say... it again... too scared... scared... of losing..." his head lolled back and he passed out, blissfully into unconsciousness once again, one last word barely whispered upon his lips, "... you..."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>KittyRivera</strong> on <strong>15-06-2010, 22:44:43</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Gabe helped Mea into the back of the van, and once everyone was loaded, Gabe tore off from the scene, breaking God knows how many laws to get to The Doctor.<br><br>Mea helped secure Marcus into a comfortable sitting position, wiping blood out of his face, before nervously flitting over Yousef's mangled body, stretched out onto the floor of the van. She knelt, pressing two fingers gingerly into his throat to check for a pulse. His lids fluttered at her touch, and he muttered something in a language she couldn't understand.<br><br>She withdrew her hand shakily, placing it over his heart to feel the reassuring rhythm beneath her palm.<br><br>"How... is cowboy's... manicure?" Her smile was broken and watery, the soot and blood streaking her face made her look like a refugee from a war camp. "He broke a nail or two, I think. We'll all go to the spa after this is over." Her voice was strained as she tried to make her tone light, to keep the panic from rising in her throat like acid.<br><br>"Mea... I... need to say... something..."&nbsp; he was struck by a spasmodic cough, she rapidly covered his mouth with her hand as blood spattered out, hitting her in the cheek and throat. She flinched reflexively at the moisture.&nbsp; She looked up at the health monitors that were integrated into their biosuits, his heart rate was erratic and he was losing blood, his BP was dangerously low.<br><br>"That... isn't good..." He muttered, she wiped her hand on her thigh and shook her head "You're going to be fine, Yousef, stay with me..."<br><br>"I told you once before... in Russia... it got you shot... because I... was not looking... for trouble on... cake walk." Her lower lip trembled, and tears began to gather themselves in her thick ash-covered lashes. "Yousef, don't talk right now, just...just..."<br><br>"I never say... it again... too scared... scared... of losing..." his lids fluttered, eyes rolling into the back of his head. <br><br>Her hair fell into his face as she pressed herself into his chest.&nbsp; Mea put her arm across him...and sobbed.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Cameron182</strong> on <strong>16-06-2010, 23:03:45</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Marcus fell in and out of consciousness, vaguely aware of the van rocketing through the streets of Atlanta, some kind of siren attached to the top of it, to make it look like an ambulance he imagined. He could feel himself rocking slightly back and forth as the van drifted around turns and in between cars, though he could also feel that he was strapped in securely, even through the blinding cloud of pain that seemed to roll through him in sickening waves. From what he could tell in his few moments of clarity, atleast four of his ribs were broken, his right arm without a doubt was broken, probably in several places, and from the numb tingliness coming from his left ankle, it was probably broken as well.<br><br>He could hear the sounds of crying in the background, seemingly louder than the squeeling of tires and the honking of horns, deep sobs that seemed to come from the very depths of the person's soul. In his delirium, the sobbing sounded so familiar, yet he couldn't place it, and as he felt himself drifting off into unconsciousness once more, his right hand moved out, coming to rest on Mea's shoulder, though his eyes weren't even open and he had no idea who it was, "Don't cry Rachel..... it's going to be okay...." He mumbled, seeming to talk in his sleep before he fell into the cold embrace of blood-loss induced sleep.<br><br>--------------------------------------------------------------------------<br><br>Suddenly Marcus awoke with a start, sitting straight upwards and immediately he regretted the decision as pain was sent screaming through his side and chest and he fell backwards, a loud groan emitting from his lips. He brought his hands towards his face, and was immediately met with a cast to the forehead, followed by another groan of pain. He let his arms fall to his sides, breathing out deeply as he tried to keep his world from spinning. After a few moments he finally caught his bearings and opened his eyes, bright flourescent lighting meeting his eyes, causing him to blink away with the water that would rush to the sudden assault on his eyeballs. <br><br>Alot slower this time, he moved himself into a sitting position, looking down to find himself without a shirt, tight bandages wrapped around his stomach, and a small cast on his left ankle, as well as the full-arm cast on his right arm. "Jesus... all this from one RPG?" He said under his breathe, and then heard a collection of giggles coming from the entrance to his room and his icy blue eyes rose to see two women dressed in nurse's outfits, obviously having witnessed the antics he'd just performed while waking up and being quite amused by it. "Yeah...haha.... laugh at the injured guy..." He said dryly and moved his legs to the right side of the bed, letting them hang over its edges.<br><br>He took a few moments to collect himself and finally, slowly, pulling himself to his feet, keeping his weight on his right leg, guessing it would probably hurt like crazy to put any on his left foot at the moment. The doctor's must have pumped him full of pain medication, because it was nothing more than a dull throbbing at the moment. "Mr. Valentine..... you need to stay in bed and..." One of the nurses began, walking into the room. Marcus shot her a cold look, shaking his head, "To hell with that plan... I've got to check on my teammates..." He said, and began to limp/hobble his way out of the room at a slow pace, heading into the hallway. <br><br>From what he guessed this was some type of Vatican-sponsored hideout in Atlanta, atleast from the decor and the black-suits that were constantly walking around, making Marcus feel extremely under-dressed. The muscles in his bare chest and arm were tense with the pain that was pounding through his system due to the movement, but he pressed on, despite the nurses that were chattering in his ear. Finally he saw a sight that brightened his eyes, "Mea!.." 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Xiddeus</strong> on <strong>17-06-2010, 00:46:36</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<em>He watched in horror as the RPG raced through the window and he was flying through the glass to impact the concrete below.</em><br><br>"Nurse, 50cc of adrenaline, two bags!&nbsp; Now!" he half way saw the commotion about him as his eyes fluttered open, lights swiftly passing by like tracer rounds in the night...<br><br><em>Yousef stood on the building next to Gerad, watching the cavalcade slowly pull down the street towards them.&nbsp; He was waiting for the go code with bated breath, as soon as Gerad took out the first and last driver, he raced down the side of the building on the the rope.&nbsp; He always felt so cool doing that, he could not help but grin as he noticed Mea doing the same across the street.&nbsp; He was only one story up when he released the rope and crashed into the cab of a parked car, the roof caving from his massive weight and velocity, his Scar opening up on the emerging men.&nbsp; He laughed as he strode forward, a simple no hurry gate that easily ate up the distance as he moved towards the target.&nbsp; He and Mea reached it at the same time, the Van that held the captive priest hostage, and he swung the doors open... to see a man next to the priest with an RPG...&nbsp; </em><br><br>The doctors and nurses moved with the practised precision that came with their profession.&nbsp; "Watch the arteries.&nbsp; Swab."<br><br><em>The boat that held Gerad captive was speeding away and Mea followed quickly by Yousef watched in helpless frustration as it swung away from the dock.&nbsp; "Damnit!" she exclaimed and tried to sight in the driver... but they both knew her shots would never make it at this distance, then it swung towards the cliff face they were standing on.&nbsp; Looking at each other, they had the same idea.&nbsp; "Yousef, I only have one chute-" he cut her off with a step and a wave of his hand, she probably thought he was going to tell her to just go.&nbsp; "Parachutes are for girls," he quipped as he dove off the edge, having cliff-dived with Jenny only a couple of months before, he knew that this was a much taller cliff, but he didn't care.&nbsp; His friend was on that boat and he felt at fault for leaving him unguarded.&nbsp; The water came up at him fast and he clenched every muscle in his body as he knifed into it, still making an impressive splash anyway.&nbsp; He knew Mea would follow with her base jumper chute, but he bobbed to the surface and even though it wrenched his arm out of socket, he latched onto the dock rope and held on for dear life, growling in pain as he stood ski-like behind the speeding boat.&nbsp; It was enough of a distraction for Mea to take the shot and kill the driver and passenger.&nbsp; Yousef looked like a fool as he slowly slipped back beneath the waves...</em><br><br>They moved about the room, doctors and nurses and a few other technician types.&nbsp; "Well, the shrapnel is mostly gone, but there is still the bullet next to his heart that worries us.&nbsp; We can't remove it and it doesn't seem to bother him..."<br><br><em>He was in a hospital... somewhere in Moscow he knew.&nbsp; Mea was laying in her bed, they said that the worst had passed and that it was a miracle that his dangerous use of the adrenaline had worked.&nbsp; And now he sat next to her as she lay in a coma.&nbsp; He held her hand tenderly as he waited, his eyes red and heavy from lack of sleep.&nbsp; He was supposed to be in bed himself, but even the tranquilizers were no match for his considerable bulk.&nbsp; He leaned forward, kissing her forehead... "Ikh hob dikh lib," he whispered into her ear.&nbsp; He hoped she could hear him, but the doctors said she probably could not. "Ikh hob dikh lib.&nbsp; Please, come back.&nbsp; I will never say it again if you don't.&nbsp; I have never said it to another woman, and I will never say it to any after you.&nbsp; Please, Mea... Please." The tears flowing freely as he sobbed openly at her side, praying that God would smile on him once again.</em><br><br>"Ikh hob dikh lib." he spoke through the pain, his mind trapped somewhere in his memories.&nbsp; The doctors had no idea where, and the primary surgeon strode outside the room to find the CO of the unit.&nbsp; "Ah, Major Vanni, I presume.&nbsp; Well, the worst has passed, and we have him most heavily sedated, but with his metabolism, we are not sure when he will come out of it.&nbsp; Presumably, much sooner than expected." He gently touched the Major's elbow and spoke in a lower tone. "Major, he keeps repeating the same phrase now that the surgery is over.&nbsp; We think it is tied to a loved one.&nbsp; Do you know Yiddish?"&nbsp; he waited for her answer and spoke. "He keeps saying, ikh hob dikh lib... I love you.&nbsp; Do you know whom he is speaking too?&nbsp; We think it would help his recovery if you could get them on the phone, or even here if you can." 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>KittyRivera</strong> on <strong>17-06-2010, 16:56:08</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Blur. It was all a blur.<br><br>She was clutching Yousef, scrabbling, nails tearing at the thick biosuit material.&nbsp; White walls, flourescent lights making him pasty under his summer tan.<br><br>Screaming shrilly, strong hands clamped at her, tore at her, but she held fast, hysterical tears splashed the confused, angry faces around her as she shook the grabbing hands off like an angry dog. <br><br>"LET ME GO! YOUSEF!&nbsp; YOUSEF!"<br><br>He had gone flatline twice in the van.&nbsp; Blood. There was blood everywhere. The gurney was soaked, sheets smeared in crimson handprints.<br><br>Finally, enough hands caught her, and something sharp pricked her arm.&nbsp; "YOUSEF! YOUSEF!"&nbsp; She heard Gabe, somewhere in the din "Mea! For God's sake, Mea, let him go, the doctor has to-...!" She kicked, punch, bit, but there were too many hands.<br><br>"YOUSEF! NOOO!!!"<br><br>Then black.<br><br>********************************<br><br><em>Their Mi-17 was smoldering wreckage six miles due west of their location. Mid winter, below freezing, they were half-buried in the icy sand, night vision goggles casting the entire scene in fuzzy gray tones.&nbsp; The footsteps of the tangos were muted by the sand but sheer adrenaline pricked her ears, sharpening them enough to hear the ragged, frightful breath of the fifteen men that patrolled just below their ridge.<br><br>She glanced over at Gerad, whose still body gave away no hint at the tenseness that no doubt lay just under the surface. Several rapid hand motions, and he nodded, swinging his rifle over onto his back. He crawled away silently, Mea watching him until he vanished around a dune.<br><br>Tank was staring at the camp below them with an expression of keen delight. <br><br>Exactly three minutes later, the first pop of sniper fire made them both jump.<br><br>One of the swarthy men fell, a dark blotch on his forehead. His compadres panicked, snatching up guns, shouting commands.<br><br>Another pop. Another. Two men landed quietly in the sand, their Kalashnikovs tumbling into the dunes.<br><br>Tank was like a dog at the end of his chain, ready to burst free with righteous fury if allowed loose.&nbsp; There were still too many, she held up her hand, expressionless.<br><br>Three more men fell, she closed her hand and they both exploded from the sand, ready...</em><br><br><br>**************************<br><br>She woke with a start, then groaned up at the ceiling. They had tranq'ed her. Fucking pricks.<br><br>She had been bathed, and her biosuit was folded neatly and the rest of her gear was organized on the table just out of reach from her bed. She stood up, the icy floor making her flinch.<br><br>A nurse immediately poked her head in, smiling pleasantly. "Good afternoon, Major Vanni. How are you feeling?"<br><br>"Where's my team?" The nurses' smile faded at the abrupt military tone, her hard expression.&nbsp; "Ahem. They're all going to be fine. Gabriel and Gerad are both out getting lunch at the moment. Can I get you something to eat?"<br><br>"Where's my team?" She repeated. The nurse nodded slowly.&nbsp; "All right, come on, then."<br><br>As soon as the turned the corner out of her room, Marcus's smiling face was the first thing she saw. "Mea!.."&nbsp; He was bandaged from heat to foot, and looked like someone had done a job on him with a nightstick. There wasn't many places where he wasn't bruised.<br><br>"Marcus!"&nbsp; She rapidly closed the distance between them, went to embrace him, then stopped mid-hug. "Ah...uh...right. Sorry."&nbsp; She stepped back, clapping him gently on his shoulder.&nbsp; "So, did they have to replace your entire body with cybernetics?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Cameron182</strong> on <strong>17-06-2010, 22:54:48</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				His eyes widened for a moment as she started to hug him, knowing that even with her small physique, a hug from her in the current condition that he was in would probably break every bone in his body once again. Thankfully she caught her movements halfway into the hug and pulled back, changing it instead to a pat on his shoulder, he smiled his thanks. He chuckled lightly at her comment, leaning back against the wall to his left to take some of the strain off of his one good ankle, turning his head to look at Mea. <br><br>"From what I've gathered so far they had to replace the broken bones in my arm with synthetics and the same with my ankle, which should cause it to heal much faster. However it seems I'm going to have hell going through airport security from this point on..." he laughed, trying to ease the general sense of tension that seemed to be almost tangible in the entire building. At that moment a chattering came from the end of the hallway, moving towards them at a rapid pace. <br><br>The blonde-headed woman held a chart infront of her and a syringe in her other hand, barking orders at Marcus to go back to his room and get back in bed, Marcus let out a groan of displeasure, leaning his head back against the wall. He looked at Mea for a second, a smirk on his lips before he looked back towards the nurse, "Hey.... you, shut...up. I'm fine, go tend to someone that needs it, I've been through much worse..." he said, his tone firm but not entirely hostile. The woman stood there for a few moments, somewhat shocked to be addressed in such a way, Marcus made a 'shoo' motion with his free hand, a friendly smile accompanying it so the woman would know he wasn't trying to be a total ass.<br><br>He turned to look back to Mea, closing his eyes for a moment as a wave of pain rolled through his body before he pushed it aside, "How is Tank..?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>KittyRivera</strong> on <strong>18-06-2010, 04:03:20</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"From what I've gathered so far they had to replace the broken bones in my arm with synthetics and the same with my ankle, which should cause it to heal much faster. However it seems I'm going to have hell going through airport security from this point on..."<br><br>She shook her head with a wry grin. "That's old twentieth century shit. They've gone to plasticine now, the same stuff the biosuit's made of." She winked broadly at him, showing a lot of teeth "You think the richest nation on the planet would give you old Ford parts?"<br><br>After the orderly went back to the nurses' station, no doubt to complain that the patients were being difficult, Marcus grew serious. "How is Tank..?"<br><br>She visibly paled, smoothing imaginary wrinkles from the shapeless cloth gown.&nbsp; "I...I don't know. You caught me just as I was leaving." She motioned to the gown "...obviously."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Xiddeus</strong> on <strong>20-06-2010, 06:08:15</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<em>"You hit like little girl." Yousef spat at the man that had just struck him.&nbsp; In truth, he had known a woman or two that had struck him harder.&nbsp; He grinned his broken tooth grin and spat out some blood.&nbsp; The man was about to strike him again, this time with his rifle, when the door burst inward. A burst of fire and Yousef watched as the interrogator went down.&nbsp; Looking up he noticed Christof, "What took you so long?&nbsp; I nearly had them converted to our side." he joked as the man smiled back.&nbsp; <br><br>"I had to grab some coffee and donuts for the kids, ya know." he laughed as Yousef was mostly unharmed, maybe a little dental work, but other than that unharmed.&nbsp; "The rest of the team managed to get to the rendezvous point, Mea had to be sedated again, she was about to leave and head back to get you.&nbsp; But we needed her intel at HQ.&nbsp; Thankfully, Masino had sent us in as back up." <br><br>Yousef grinned as he stood, quickly snatching up the fallen man's AK, it was old, but still one of the most reliable weapons out there.&nbsp; "Do we have time to play?" he asked like a kid in a candy store, but a voice stopped him cold.<br><br>"I sedated her.&nbsp; Didn't want her moving in on my man." He turned and grinned as Jenny walked in, her biosuit hugging her every curve. "Christof, I think Yousef wants a little revenge on these morons..." They all three agreed and Yousef led the way out of the room, openly slapping Jenny on the ass as he passed by her.</em><br><br>The orderly came in the room and his buddy followed him, "Ya know, I think she likes you."&nbsp; "Nah, she likes, Rob." they traded back and forth about one of the nurses on a different floor.&nbsp; They were needing to change the bedding and they both groaned as they saw the size of the man... he really was massive.&nbsp; "Heads or tails?"<br><br><em>He was young, barely a soldier for the past three years, but already a member of the Special Forces, already he was expected to head to OCS and make officer soon.&nbsp; All he needed was a couple more months for time in service... but none of that mattered as he was bound and gagged in a cave on a steel chair.&nbsp; The blindfold was ripped from his face and his eyes were assaulted by the light.&nbsp; A voice spoke from the darkness and he squinted to see.&nbsp; "Tell me, Infidel dog, what is your mission here in Lebanon?"<br><br>He shook his head, "Nothing, I'm just part of the peacekeeping force here, just another ground pounder on patrol, security, hell, I'm a damn rent-a-cop as far as this country is concerned."&nbsp; <br><br>"Lies!&nbsp; You were seen talking with a high ranking officer, known to be a member of your Isreali Mossad.&nbsp; So tell me... what is your mission!" the man stayed in the darkness outside the light and Yousef could not see him.&nbsp; He had been approached by the man, and he had been inducted into Mossad, but he had to become an officer first.&nbsp; <br><br>"I am not a member of a fictional agency.&nbsp; I am just a special forces sergeant.&nbsp; I don't know anything..." Yousef tried to get them to back off, but after the work over they had given him before even beginning the interrogation, he doubted they would.&nbsp; Out of the shadows, he saw two men step forward, one with a wicked looking knife, the other, a syringe... the knife would give him the scar on his bicep, the one that could still be seen easily more than ten years later...</em><br><br>The orderly looked up as he noticed the monitor was showing an accelerated heart beat.&nbsp; "Ah hell, I guess he needs another sedative?"&nbsp; "Yeah, oh, and guess what I found under the bed, probably left behind by one of the nurses." Holding up the scalpel as the other brought around the syringe with the sedative.&nbsp; Yousef's eyes flashed open and his arms shot up and forward to grasp the wrist of each man.&nbsp; A quick jerk and they crashed into each other, the scalpel was quickly taken by Yousef as well as the syringe, only a small nick on a finger of one man.&nbsp; He tried to get up out of the bed, his eyes wild and unfocused.&nbsp; He was not in a hospital, not in his mind, to him he was still in a cave somewhere in Lebanon after the occupation of 2018.&nbsp; His legs did not react as they should and he crashed to the floor, his arms scrambling to pull him over into the corner.&nbsp; One of the orderlies managed to get to the call button, "<strong>SECURITY!</strong>"<br><br>Yousef sat there in the corner, his mind confused and frightened, his scalpel held out and at the ready, the syringe as well as a backup.&nbsp; All the while he just glared at the men in front of him, as they waited for their backup.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>KittyRivera</strong> on <strong>20-06-2010, 07:44:19</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"Have you seen-" her voice was interrupted by the frightened shriek from another hospital room down the hall. Mea snapped to attention, barking at Marcus "Get inside." her tone brooked no argument.<br><br>She took off at a sprint, the breeze plastering the cloth gown across her torso, until she halted at the scene of what looked like something out of a horror movie.<br><br>Yousef. It was Yousef.<br><br>An orderly was kneeling, clutching a bleeding hand. It didn't look bad, just a snick. It was more shock and fear than pain that made his face ashen.<br><br>"Get out!" She growled, and the two nurses made haste past her through the door.<br><br>She got down on her hands and knees, and slowly began to crawl towards Yousef. His eyes were animalistic, pupils dialated. He was so heavily medicated it was a wonder he was breathing, let alone sitting up. "Tank." she said softly, holding both hands up in a non-threatening position.<br><br>Her voice was soft, cajoling.&nbsp; "Tank...it's Major Vanni..." she choked, cleared her throat. "Yousef, it's-....it's Mea. Look at me."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Xiddeus</strong> on <strong>21-06-2010, 20:25:56</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"Vu am ikh?" Yousef screamed as the men retreated into the shadows, the interrogator stepping forward, squatting down only a few feet away.&nbsp; "Velkh ton`du veln fun mir?" he spat the question out as it appeared as if the figure was crawling towards him... His eyes were unfocused as the room slowly tried to piece itself together, the shadows slowly peeling back.&nbsp; The figure revealing to be a woman... a familiar face... Shaking his head in confusion, he tried to clear it all away, even as he tried again to stand, his legs still not answering.<br><br>"Bakumen tsurikvegs!" he screamed again, as the blur slowly started to fade, he finally saw that before him was not the interogator he recalled that left so many of the scars that still covered his muscled body... but an old friend.&nbsp; His face twitched and his eyes squinted and opened widely in obvious confusion as his mind tried to make sense of it all...<br><br>"Mea? Velkh are`du doing aher?" He remembered she did not speak Yiddish so he repeated himself in Italian. "What are you doing here?&nbsp; How did they capture you?" He stopped short and looked around, the markings of the hospital were in English... the events of the day still muddled as he tried to put the fragments of his mind back together...<br><br>Christof and his team, Marcus and Jenny, dead.&nbsp; Masino in Rome.&nbsp; The Vatican.&nbsp; Flight to America.&nbsp; The cowboy. He could not help but snort to himself at this point.&nbsp; Then he recalled the condo and the RPG. "Mea?..." he finally stopped and again tried to stand.&nbsp; Once more, he found his legs not working, not only not working, but not moving in the least.&nbsp; He looked down at them quizzically.&nbsp; "Did they give me a spinal tap or something?"&nbsp; Looking up at Mea he gave her a worried look, the image of a wall coming down at him vividly flashing in his mind... "I guess not, huh?" <br><br>For an instant, he looked as if defeat had finally taken him.&nbsp; Then he quickly recovered.&nbsp; It was over for him, he knew it.&nbsp; There was no way they could fix his spine, even with new bones and joints.&nbsp; The chord of nerves was still beyond even their advanced medicine.&nbsp; "Well, I guess I had better brush up on my typing.&nbsp; Or find me a Tony Stark to help with this problem... oh, wait.&nbsp; Is not comic book." he smiled weakly as he spoke, placing the scalpel on a nearby tray that he somehow had not managed to upset.&nbsp; Noticing that it still stood, he calmly flicked it, sending the contents sprawling into the corner away from the both of them.&nbsp; "Can't have that now can we.&nbsp; I have Bull in China closet image to uphold."<br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Cameron182</strong> on <strong>22-06-2010, 09:02:45</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Marcus heard the screaming and shouting come from down the hallway, and immediately knew what Mea's answer to it would be. His face was expressionless as she told him to get inside, and then turned and ran down the hallway itself. Now Marcus wasn't naturally insubordinate, he respected authority to a degree whenever they had proven that they deserved that respect, and he knew how to take orders, but when it came to the safety of his teammates however, he would disobey any order to assure their well-being, despite his condition.<br><br>So naturally he began to hobble after her as quickly as he could in his weakened condition. His ankle could barely hold any weight and caused him to have a severe limp as he moved along as best he could, trying to keep his arm from swinging too much as every miniscule movement sent pain rippling through his body. However he was making progress, slowly but surely.<br><br>Finally, after several moments he arrived to the entrance of the room, his eyes widening slightly as it looked like they'd just been attacked with another rocket-propelled-grenade, medical supplies scattered across the room, the reinforced bed had skitted to a cock-eyed angle, and sitting on the floor holding a scalpel was Yousef, with Mea crawling towards him in a cautious manner. A looked of puzzlement crossed his features before he saw the glaze that was apparent in Yousef's eyes, a glaze that he knew far too well.<br><br>Many soldiers, no matter how strong willed they were, when placed through one tramatic experience after another, often relived their experiences in times of weakness, whether it be physical or mental, and he could see that was happening now, as Yousef began gibbering in Yiddish, then abruptly switching to Italian, neither language Marcus could understand, but he knew the dialect well enough to place it, he then heard the words in English that followed and he felt a sudden sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. <br><br>No... there was no way Yousef could be paralyzed, the man was quite literally a Tank. Marcus had never met anybody that could take as much damage as he did and keep on coming, the attack that had paralyzed him would have killed any other man easily, and now... now he'd suffered the worst fate a soldier could endure... the loss of their mobility. "I'd offer to give you a piggy-back ride everywhere... but my back is messed up enough as it is..." He said in a light tone, knowing that Yousef didn't need sympathy or sorrow for his condition, he needed friends, he needed to keep his spirits high to keep the depression that would follow such a revelation at bay. <br><br>He leaned against the doorway to the room to take some of the pressure off of his ankle, his icy blue eyes watching Yousef and Mea, unable to hide the worried look in his irises, despite the playful smile that was forced onto his face.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Geradine</strong> on <strong>22-06-2010, 15:50:51</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Gerad got there moments after Marcus did, still in his combat armor, and stopped cold at marcus's quip at giving tank a piggy back ride. unknowingly, he thought the same thing as marcus. that Yousef couldn't be paralyzed. he'd had bigger things then a wall fall on him. he'd had an entire <em>building</em> collapse on him in one of their missions to russia, and ended up having both legs and an arm, and a few ribs broken. they had to pull him back to base on a makeshift sled.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>KittyRivera</strong> on <strong>22-06-2010, 18:17:40</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"What are you doing here?&nbsp; How did they capture you?" Yousef's eyes were beginning to clear, to focus. Mea crept closer, covering the hand that had the scalpel with one of her own, much smaller and darker. "No one captured us, Yousef, we're in a safehouse, in the states. Remember?"<br><br>"Mea?..."&nbsp; She smiled hesitantly, nodding. Then, the situation seemed to come fully into focus and he looked down at his legs. "Did they give me a spinal tap or something?"&nbsp; She coughed, unable to tell him the truth. She just stared at him, her expression one of deep regret. <br><br>"I guess not, huh?"&nbsp; She swallowed bitterly, shaking her head.<br><br>"Well, I guess I had better brush up on my typing.&nbsp; Or find me a Tony Stark to help with this problem... oh, wait.&nbsp; Is not comic book."&nbsp; Her smile was forced and humorless. He put the scalpel away after she dropped her hand, the finailty of the situation making his face ashen. Then, he noticed that the tray was the only thing left in the hospital room that he hadn't utterly destroyed, and flicked it with his middle finger, sending the contents clattering onto the floor. "Can't have that now can we.&nbsp; I have Bull in China closet image to uphold."<br><br>"I'd offer to give you a piggy-back ride everywhere... but my back is messed up enough as it is..." Mea clenched her teeth, turning her head to see that both Marcus AND Gerad had managed to insert themselves into the hospital room.<br><br>She directed the others to help him up onto the bed, and when Tank was comfortably situated on the gurney, she patted him on the leg. "I"m going to have to have a chat with Cowboy real quick. You hang tight and the nurses should be around in a few minutes to set you up. Marcus, can you come with me please?" She cocked an eyebrow at the blond, tilting her chin towards the door.<br><br>She didn't seem angry as she moved down the hall, ignoring the nurses and orderlies as they scrambled to tend to Yousef. She ducked back into her own hospital room, and waited until Marcus followed her in before she shut the door.<br><br>She motioned to a chair. "Have a seat."<br><br>She sat down on the hospital bed opposite him. Her pale blue eyes glittered with anger as she pinned him with her even, unblinking stare.&nbsp; "I don't know how you did things here in the States, Valentine, but when a superior officer gives you an order, you will follow it. From now on. The survival of this team depends on your ability to do so. If you can't...then you can stay here in the states while we go after Strazzi."<br><br>She leaned back, crossing her slender brown arms over her chest, and raised both eyebrows. "Do I make myself...absolutely...clear, Valentine?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Cameron182</strong> on <strong>22-06-2010, 23:18:09</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Marcus followed after Mea into the small room, already knowing exactly what she was going to say. He moved very carefully towards the chair that she indicated he should sit in, his movements starting to cause him more and more pain as he continued, knowing that it was adrenaline and the pain medication that had kept the pain at bay until now. However he shoved the pain into the back of his mind as he took his seat, his icy blue eyes watching Mea with an expressionless look on his face, listening to her every word, and after she finished a long pause hung in the room, the silence becoming thick with tension.<br><br>"Don't give me that order...." He spoke in a soft tone, a complete opposite to the harsh look in his eyes. "Don't order me to stay behind while my teammates might be in danger.... that is an order I cannot follow." His eyes glanced towards the window to the side of the room, curtains drawn and a brilliant view of Atlanta's downtown area in full landscape was laid out before them. The icy blue irises moved back towards Mea's form, a certain kind of vulnerability being held within their depths.<br><br>"I was given that order before.... the order to hang back, let the rest of the team go in first and wait to see if anyone came from outside. I didn't want to follow the order, but like you said, it was from a superior officer and I had to follow it. By the time I could hear the gunfire ringing from inside it was too late.... I watched every single one of my teammates die, gunned down by an ambush that had been waiting in the dark, in lighting that was my specialty that I would have been able to see in...."<br><br>He stopped for a moment, his good arm clenching into a fist, causing his muscles to go tight with tension, holding back the emotion that threatened to burst forth. "... I had to hold the only woman that I've loved as she died.... all because I followed an order to stay back." <br><br>He then pulled himself to his feet with a grimace of pain, his broken ankle beginning to throb with every pulsating beat of his heart. He limped a few steps towards the door, turning his head over his shoulder to look at Mea, "If you want to leave me here in the States... then so be it. However..." He then reached into the front pocket of his medical gown, retrieving the same wallet-sized picture from the airplane, and tossed it towards her. The picture of Rachel, the woman who looked so much like Mea that it was almost impossible to believe they weren't related. Marcus didn't know that Mea had witnessed the similarities of the picture before. "Don't expect me to sit back if there's a chance you are in danger.... if there's a chance that any of you are in danger."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>KittyRivera</strong> on <strong>23-06-2010, 00:12:30</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Barely contained rage flashed in her eyes and she stood, jamming her arm in front of him to block the entrance of the door. She jammed a finger sharply into the center of his chest. "Can the drama, Valentine, and save me your speeches. We almost just lost two members of our team, that means YOU, son...and I'm responsible for the lives of <em>everyone</em> on this crew. If you can't follow orders, <em>No Matter What They Are</em>, then you stay behind. Period. It's your choice, pal, I'm not going to have someone unreliable around. This isn't church camp, if you didn't notice." She thumped him on the elbow, where the stitches were fresh from his replacement joints.<br><br>A muscle in her jaw jumped, but she stepped back, clearly allowing him access through the door. "You want to walk? That's your perrogative, we were a team before you and we'll be a team after. So there's the door. Choose." She eyed him pointedly. It was follow her command, or walk. Nothing by halves.<br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Cameron182</strong> on <strong>23-06-2010, 00:52:10</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Marcus remained silent as he watched her, his jaw set and his eyes narrowed, a look of cold anger being the only thing evident. He said nothing as she spoke, nothing as she jabbed him in the chest, and nothing as she flicked his stitches, despite the shockwaves of pain sent running up his arm, causing the muscles to tense on impulse. He listened to her words and once more after she finished speaking there was a silence that hung in the air.<br><br>His glare was cold enough to freeze the very air around them as he brought his good hand up to his eyebrow, snapping off a half-assed salute, "Yes ma'am..." He said, any respect he'd held for Mea had vanished from that moment. He'd thought he might have been developing a sort of first-encounter crush on her since they'd met, due to her close resemblance to Rachel, but he could see now that it was the only thing that she'd shared with the woman he'd loved. This had strictly moved into a business acquaintance, even friendship seemed like a longshot at the moment, she had made it clear, she was his boss, not his ally.<br><br>He knew for a fact, had it been Yousef, or even Gerad, that had disobeyed an order like that, it wouldn't have been nearly as much of an issue as it was now, but he was the new guy, the 'cowboy' as it seemed, and she obviously felt she needed to make an example out of him. "Mindless automaton reporting for duty...... I'll be in my room if you need me..." He said, his voice mirroring the discontent he felt with the situation as he stepped out of the doorway, limping off in the direction of his hospital room.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Xiddeus</strong> on <strong>30-06-2010, 03:27:02</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Yousef sat back as the orderlies came and picked him up, grunting at his weight all the while.&nbsp; "Come on, little man, I lift three times my weight daily."&nbsp; He joked at them, knowing that it was difficult to move him with his legs being nonfunctional as they were.&nbsp; He poked at one absently as he lay back on his bed.&nbsp; Nothing.&nbsp; Out of curiosity he snatched the needle back and stuck himself... nothing.&nbsp; "Look at this.&nbsp; Nothing. Not even a twitch."&nbsp; He kept poking at various spots and tried to find at least one that had feeling.&nbsp; Suddenly his head rocketed upward and he grabbed the primary doctor.&nbsp; "Doc, tell me... can I still... You know... will it?" He motioned at his genital area with his hands and then made an uplifting motion.&nbsp; The doctor looked at him confused for a second then got what he was trying to ask.&nbsp; "I'm sorry son, but... I don't think so.&nbsp; It is possible that it might react to stimulus, but you will never know..."<br><br>Yousef's face fell... he looked at Gerad. "Shoot me.&nbsp; Now.&nbsp; I'm useless..." He could not work computers, his fingers were too bulky to type.&nbsp; He hated paperwork and usually used the voice recorder to make his reports for mission debriefs.&nbsp; The worst part, is that he was serious.&nbsp; He could not be a man for any woman, even if Mea did harbour feelings before, he doubted she could now.&nbsp; He was a talking vegetable and that is how he saw himself.&nbsp; Finally, the Impervious Tank, the Obnoxious and Mighty Yousef was taken down by the very thing that had sought to get him so many years before.&nbsp; "I don't hear a slide clicking..." he intoned again at Gerad.&nbsp; <br><br>Remembering the needle in his leg, he pulled it out and tossed it across the room, anger flooding him once more as the knowledge that he was rendered useless by the enemy finally settled in.&nbsp; But all he could do was yell and that was it... He could only ball his fists and scream at the outrage of it all.&nbsp; "I CAN'T EVEN MOVE TO HIT SOMETHING!!! WHAT KIND OF SHIT IS THIS?!!"&nbsp; he screamed skyward and held his arms out wide.&nbsp; The rage left him as quickly as it had come.&nbsp; Useless... "Useless..." Useless... he heard it echoing throughout his mind as his face fell into his hands.&nbsp; For the first time in his life... Yousef cried... he didn't care who saw or heard, he no longer had an image to uphold... he was just a broken man... and useless...
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>KittyRivera</strong> on <strong>30-06-2010, 03:58:27</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				A muscle in her jaw worked, but she couldn't bring herself to say anymore to Valentine. She drew in a deep, cleansing breath, closing her eyes to let the shaky rage pass.&nbsp; After she calmed, she motioned to the door at Marcus "I'm going to get dressed. Can you give me a minute?"<br><br>There was nothing pressingly medical wrong with her save a few bruises and cuts, nothing time and a tube of Neosporin couldn't cure. After Marcus left, Mea stripped off the hospital gown and folded it, then fetched her biosuit and ninja slippers from the bedside table.<br><br>Midway in dressing herself, she heard shouting dimly through the thick concrete walls, coming from Yousef's direction. Great, what now?! She huffed in frustration, tugging the zipper up on the biosuit as far as she could reach.<br><br>Her gear was dusty, and looked like it had just got washed in a river of sand and soot, but it was better than a flimsy backless hospital robe. She shut the door behind her and although the orderlies didn't seem like they were too happy about her determination to be a gust rather than a patient, they had enough experience with Trionfo agents to know not to argue.<br><br>She raised her hand to knock on Yousef's door when it opened suddenly, one of the orderlies fleeing the scene like he was on fire.&nbsp; She edged her body in sideways to fit through the crowded door, looking after him with a confused expression.<br><br>"Tank, what's...uh...what's wrong?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Cameron182</strong> on <strong>01-07-2010, 02:44:33</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Marcus limped, or actually dragged, his broken and battered form back through the hallways heading towards his room, a fire blazing in his eyes and a single vein pulsating on the left side of his forehead. He remained silent, sticking with the shuffling movements as he rounded another corner, the solitude of his doorway within sight. As he grew closer he could hear the 'clack clack' of heels and the instant chatter of the group of nurses as they finally spotted him and immediately set in with instructions, telling him to get back in his room, go to bed, quit walking around, all the normal information.<br><br>Marcus completely ignored them, reaching forward and opening his door, stepping in to turn and look at the group of women, who happened to be extremely attractive, albeit very annoying. "Any other time ladies, and this would be number three on my lifetime fantasy list... however right now... kindly go away.." He said with a forced smile, reaching forward to slam the door heavily in their faces and shuffled his way back to his bed, his body broken, and his pride broken just as much.<br><br>He knew Mea had to act like a hardass, any woman in the military with authority had to, otherwise they wouldn't be recognized as easily as a man in the same position would. It was a shitty situation, but it was the truth nonetheless, and Marcus knew this, however he had distracted himself with the fact that she was so much like Rachel, her voice, her face, even the way she carried herself made her seem like nothing short of a clone, and he'd let himself fall into the comfortability zone he'd had with Rachel, where he could speak his mind at any time without reprisal. Mea had just made it very clear that she wasn't Rachel, was nothing like Rachel save for the physical similarities, and had further more confirmed to Marcus that the woman he loved with all of his being was dead and gone, and this temporary illusion was just that, an illusion. <br><br>"Fuck..." He said under his breath, snapping his good hand forward to slam into the metal door with a solid impact that resonated down the hallway. "Fuck..." he repeated, looking towards his now-mangled knuckles, shaking his head as he moved towards the hospital bed. Sleep would make everything better.... then again.... sleep brought dreams.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Trionfo Inc.</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Xiddeus</strong> on <strong>06-07-2010, 16:31:01</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				He heard her voice, but did not stop his tears.&nbsp; Why should he?&nbsp; "I am not a tank... just a man... not even that now..." he said quietly as he stared down at his worthless lower half.&nbsp; "I can't walk, can't move my legs at all... Hell, I can not even feel them... Doc said I can not even please a woman... "&nbsp; He slammed a meaty fist into his palm, letting the echo reverberate throughout the room.&nbsp; "I can cook... a little.&nbsp; I can still lift well over 400 pounds to my chest... " he looked at his torso.&nbsp; "Lot easier to lift now, only half the distance from ground..." <br><br>He finally looked at Mea, a faint light coming back in his eyes as he made a startling revelation.&nbsp; "Mea... close the door.&nbsp; I have something to tell you."&nbsp; He waited for a moment, gathering his thoughts.&nbsp; "A few years ago... I told you something important... It was something that I had been hiding for a long time.&nbsp; Something I think... I think you should know.&nbsp; You don't remember.&nbsp; So, I will tell you again, seeing as how, I do not think I will be on your team anymore... on anyone's team anymore."&nbsp; Again he paused, the finality of his injuries settling back into his mind, yet that faint glimmer of hope he clung to.&nbsp; <br><br>"Mea... All of these years, we have worked together.&nbsp; Helped each other.&nbsp; It has been professional relationship... and I..." he stopped and took a breath. "I wanted more... " he stopped again.&nbsp; The words he was trying to say escaping him, not wanting to tell her the full truth of his feelings, lest she not feel the same, yet at the same time... he did want to tell her everything.&nbsp; He thought about the consequences of it all... Then he came to the conclusion, he had nothing else to lose.&nbsp; He was a broken and busted up GI Joe toy whose wobbly legs were held on by a rubbery piece of string in his torso.&nbsp; Nothing more, nothing less.&nbsp; "Mea... damnit I love you.&nbsp; There.&nbsp; I said it and I'm glad I did.&nbsp; I have been trying to say it for years... just after Russia... I have been afraid of getting you hurt... but now, I am hurt.&nbsp; So I have no other fears now..."&nbsp; he was not sure what else to say though, there really were no more words that he knew.&nbsp; So, he lay back against his pillow and waited for his worst fear to hit him.&nbsp; He waited for her to either ignore what he said, or walk out because she never felt the way he did.&nbsp; 
			</dd>
		</dl>
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