November Cell main game thread
<h1 id="title">Elliquiy Role Playing Forums</h1>
		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Light =&gt; Light: Human Small Groups =&gt; Topic started by: Lyndsey on 01-04-2016, 22:51:02</h2>
		<dl id="posts">
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>November Cell main game thread</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Lyndsey</strong> on <strong>01-04-2016, 22:51:02</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="codeheader">Code: (Posting format) <a href="#" onclick="return smfSelectText(this);" class="codeoperation">[Select]</a></div><pre style="margin: 0; padding: 0;"><code class="bbc_code">[floatright]Character Image Code Here[/floatright]<br>[b]Character:[/b] <br>[b]Location/Time:[/b] <br>[b]Attire:[/b] <br>[b]Tagged:[/b]<br>[hr]</code></pre><hr><br>(http://i65.tinypic.com/zjxrgi.jpg)<br><br><em><strong>April 15, 2016&nbsp; 0900 hours - 63 Wall Street, New York City, Penthouse.</strong></em> <br><br>Members of the newly-formed November Cell have been given directions to report to the above location and time. Upon arrival, they'll find a biometric lock on the door, requiring each member of the team to perform both a palm and retinal scan to be granted entry. Past the thick security door, a luxurious living space awaits, blending rustic brick walls and mahogany floors with sleek modern fixtures and fittings. On first glance, it looks nothing more than the over-sized apartment of an individual with a similarly large bank account, from the six individual bedrooms to the&nbsp; fully-stocked open kitchen and pool table. However, a quick walk around the place will reveal a couple of rooms that definitely seem out of place, such as the fluorescent lit armory and its weapon-lined walls and a state-of the art gym. Another of those rooms houses what looks like a small meeting space, with a large screen on one of the walls. Sitting neatly on the table in front of empty chairs in this room are six black boxes, each one individually labelled - <em>Temple, Quinn, Valdez, Kane, Rose, Oestreicher </em>and sitting atop a manila envelope. Once all the members of November Cell have been seated, the screen on the wall flickers on.<br><br><hr><br>A dark-skinned man appears on-screen, though shadows obscure most of his features, it is clear to all from his posture and clean, crisp suit that he seemed to be someone in a position of power. "Good morning, agents." He greeted the group politely before continuing on, quickly making it apparent that the seated group were watching a recording. "I trust that you've all already been briefed in regards to why you're here. In the boxes you'll find a smartphone, each one identical to the one you're currently carrying. Keep it on you at all times, this will be your means of communication with each other, and the Odyssey initiative when necessary. You'll also find clean identities in the envelope, try not to burn them too quickly. Fifteen thousand dollars has also been wired into each of the accounts associated with your identities, petty cash for whatever you might spend on the course of the mission. Don't go too crazy though, for the what remains is what you'll be getting paid for this job."<br><br>The shadowy figure paused for a moment, as if he meant to allow the group to retrieve the items he had just mentioned. "I hope you like your new surroundings. This will be your base of your operations moving forward. I'm sure you'll find the toys we've provided adequate,&nbsp; though should you require anything else, they can be requisitioned through your cell lead, Mr. Oestreicher."<br><br>Another pause followed. "Moving on, you'll be happy to know that your first task is right in your backyard. Don't worry, I'm sure we'll have you travelling the world soon enough, depending on how things go of course. Turn on your phones, you'll find intel files on your target." If anyone were to look, they'd find an unflattering picture of a portly, bespectacled man n his fifties, along with several other details. "Meet Francis Cameron. Former professor of Chemical and Biomedical Engineering at NYU, before he lost his job for multiple illicit affairs with several students. Mr. Cameron has a penchant for pretty young things, it seems, and since leaving his post they've only gotten younger. That's not why we want him though,we don't need the initiative for one lousy paedophile. It appears the good professor has been hard at work on a weaponized virus during his down time, and is about to sell his research to some very questionable people. He's currently staying on the 17th floor of The Peninsula Hotel, and our sources say that the buy will most likely be going down tonight. Your job here agents, consists of two simple parts - one, secure the Cameron's research on his laptop, and wherever else he might have it stored, and two, eliminate the target. How you go about these tasks depends solely on how your team leader wants to use his resources. The Odyssey initiative has only two rules: no innocent casualties, and don't get caught, because the initiative doesn't exist. Good luck agents."<br><br><hr><br>*On David's phone is also additional information on the five other members of the team, detailing their respective perceived strengths and weaknesses.<br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: November Cell main game thread</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>GnothiSeauton</strong> on <strong>02-04-2016, 06:20:05</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatright">(http://i.imgur.com/mDV66ep.jpg)</div><strong>Character:</strong>&nbsp; Oscar Valdez<br><strong>Location/Time:</strong>&nbsp; Around 0900 hours.&nbsp; 63 Wall Street, New York, New York.&nbsp; Penthouse.<br><strong>Attire:</strong>&nbsp; Blue-grey business jacket and slacks.&nbsp; White dress shirt.&nbsp; Black shoes.&nbsp; Black sunglasses.<br><strong>Tagged:</strong>&nbsp; Open<br><br><hr><br>The car door had only been closed for but a moment before the peaceful ride had went down hill.&nbsp; All it took was a look from the man at his side, the man in the suit behind the wheel, to take one look at Oscar before the disgust came apparent.&nbsp; “For fuck's sake.” The man behind the wheel said, turning his head to what had been deemed “the package”, before turning his eyes back to the streets, trying to navigate away from the pickup area in front of the hotel.&nbsp; “Are you already fucking drunk?”<br><br>A silent shrug was the only response Oscar Valdez gave at first as he reached into the pocket of his suit jacket.&nbsp; “I prefer to call it 'living life to the fullest'.” He grumbled out, extracting a pair of dark sunglasses and shoving them on his face.<br><br>His head leaned back against the headrest, nestling in between the narrow space between the seat and the door.&nbsp; He didn't need to open his eyes to know the agent behind the wheel had exchanged a worried and angry glance with the other man behind the wheel.&nbsp; He also didn't need to ask about the gun that was undoubtedly at the ready by the agent sitting behind him.&nbsp; The mistrust, the anxiety, was clear, the air so tense that the smooth jazz playing softly upon the radio did nothing to lower the tension.&nbsp; It brought a slight smirk to his unshaven face.&nbsp; God, how he missed it.<br><br>Even the hangover, courtesy of the Federal Government. The maids of the hotel he had been checked out of would be earning their paycheck after the previous night.<br><br>The car began making it's way to the south along the East River.&nbsp; It amazed him, to be out and free.&nbsp; A few days ago, he had been sitting in the confines of his cell in Super-Max, enjoying the finest gruel the Federal Penitentiary System had to offer..&nbsp; Keeping company with terrorists and murders.&nbsp; Amusing.&nbsp; Security, he had been told.&nbsp; Too dangerous to be left alone with all of the things he had done in the name of freedom, too dangerous to be killed for nearly the same reasons.&nbsp; Locked away, and the key thrown away, or so he thought.<br><br>When the vehicle came to a stop, Oscar opened his eyes from beneath the sunglasses, looking up at the building.&nbsp; Snazzy, he thought to himself.<br><br>“You're to go in, take the elevator up to the penthouse.” The agent of the unknown agency said.&nbsp; “After that, you're on your own.”<br><br>Oscar nodded his head, as he looked up at the building.&nbsp; He turned in his seat, looking at the two agents.&nbsp; “Well boys, it's been a fun ride.” He said.&nbsp; When no pleasantries were exchanged, Oscar merely smiled as he opened up the door and climbed out.&nbsp; “Smell you later.” <br><br>The agents waited in the car, waiting for him to make a move, undoubtedly hoping he'd run, after the hell he had put them through.&nbsp; If he wasn't so sure they'd shoot him, he would have played with their heads a bit.&nbsp; Instead, he pushed up the sunglasses, straightened the white shirt beneath the blue-gray blazer, and began to make his way inside the building.&nbsp; Truth be told, he wasn't entirely sure what he was getting himself into, as he stood on the sidewalk.&nbsp; But the choice had been clear.&nbsp; More work, a little freedom, or sitting in a cell for the rest of his life waiting to die.<br><br>Solitary sucks.<br><br>The elevator took him up to the penthouse, not stopping at all until the penthouse level.&nbsp; A pair of doors waited him, beyond it, with technical doo-dads and thingy-ma-bobbers.&nbsp; It had taken him a moment to figure out to put his palm upon the digital pad, to lower his shades and show his dark brown eyes before the thick, heavy security doors unlocked and swung open to reveal the inner sanctum.<br><br>A whistle of being impressed escaped his lips as he looked around.&nbsp; Fancy, Oscar thought to himself as he looked around the place.&nbsp; Whoever was footing the bill had some extra cash to boot, it seemed, after doing a bit of exploring.<br><br>It sure as hell beat the little one cell cinder block Hilton he had been staying at recently.&nbsp; <br><br>The first one there, it seemed.&nbsp; He was tempted to claim dibs on one of the bedrooms, but thought better of that.&nbsp; Especially once he stall the stocked fridge just waiting to be taken advantage of.<br><br>When he opened the doors to the fridge, a sigh escaped his lips.&nbsp; “Hello, beautiful.” He said with a grin.<br><br>After a few moments, Oscar Valdez entered the space that seemed set for them.&nbsp; The small meeting room, where he was the first to enter.&nbsp; With a sandwich, and tall glass of orange juice, he settled in at his designated space with his sunglasses still in place, looking more appropriate for some casual lunch than what was the biggest business opportunity of his life.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: November Cell main game thread</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Lyndsey</strong> on <strong>02-04-2016, 12:18:42</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatright">(http://i64.tinypic.com/f34z09.jpg)</div><strong>Character:</strong> Evelyn Rose<br><strong>Location/Time:</strong> 0900 Hours, 63 Wall Street, New York, Penthouse.<br><strong>Attire:</strong> Dark blue jeans and brown leather boots. Plain white sweater. Grey pea coat, buttoned up. Teal scarf.<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Oscar, Open<br><hr><br>"It's up to you really." The sharply-dressed man had said "You can go on, spending the rest of your life setting broken arms and patching people up. Don't get me wrong, it's important work, but you and I both know, some of those people who come into the ER don't deserve saving."<br><br>Evelyn's green eyes flashed with anger. Jaw tightened and fist clenched, she had half a mind to punch the man right there and then, but doing so in the crowded diner where they were seated didn't seem like the wisest move, so Evelyn let her annoyance simmer away for the time being.<br><br>"What I'm offering you, Miss Rose, is the chance to make a difference, a real goddamn difference in the world, and be handsomely paid for doing it. That's why you signed up for the army, wasn't it? Only to be used as little more than an errand girl? Damn waste of talent if you ask me." The man shook his head. "Of course it isn't going to be easy, and no doubt you'll be involved in some very dangerous situations, but nothing easy is ever worth doing, is it now?"He said, repeating a quote Evelyn's father was particularly fond of using.<br><br>Evelyn's eyes widened in surprise.&nbsp; "Wait, how did you -" The man raised a hand, cutting her off. "It's not hard when you have it framed and hanging above your bed."<br><br>"You've been in my apartment?"<br><br>"We vet our recruits very thoroughly, Miss Rose."<br><br>A brief period of silence followed as Evelyn looked away, watching the other patrons of the diner for a couple of moments - a family enjoying breakfast together, sharing a stack of pancakes, an elderly man reading the paper in the corner. Evelyn shook her head and breathed out a sigh as she turned back. "Alright, what do I have to do?"<br><br>"63 Wall Street, penthouse. Two weeks from now at 9 A.M." The man said, fishing a small card from his pocket and sliding it over to Evelyn. "Don't be late." He added, rising to his feet and starting for the door.<br><br>"Wait, you wouldn't happen to have anything on- " Evelyn blurted. <br><br>"Your mother?" The man chuckled. "I'm afraid not, Miss Rose. I would have used that for leverage if I did."<br><br><hr><br>Evelyn replayed the conversation in her head for what must have been at least the hundredth time. Sat behind the wheel of her royal blue '69 Camaro, the blonde found herself with plenty of time for reflection as she attempted to work her way through the busy Manhattan roads. The car had been a project Evelyn had worked on with her father while she was still in school, and normally just being in the driver's seat, listening to the low rumble or purr of the engine, depending on how fast she was driving would have been a soothing experience for the woman. This day however, her mind raced, fraught with uncertainty as she made her way towards her destination.<br><br>"Maybe a little music will help." Evelyn sighed, reaching for the console in the middle of the dashboard. "Baby come back" by Player came on as the woman continued navigating her way through traffic, eventually arriving at her destination a couple of songs later. "63 Wall Street.. here we are." She muttered, pulling into the underground parking garage.<br><br>It seemed an odd place for a secret government organization to hide out, right smack dab in the heart of one of the biggest cities in the world, but that was probably what made it an effective place, hiding in plain sight. The elevator ride up to the penthouse was swift, and it didn't take too long for Evelyn to figure out what she was supposed to do to be granted entry either.<br><br>"Oh wow," the blonde gasped as she stepped through the doors. She walked over to one of the windows, spending a minute or two just taking in the views, before finally tearing herself away to explore the rest of the place a little bit. From the pool table already racked up and ready for a game to the expensive looking furniture, it looked like a place Evelyn would have loved to spend the rest of her life in. It didn't take her too long to find the meeting room, where the woman was slightly taken aback to find someone already waiting inside enjoying a spot of breakfast. She had expected to see some special-forces type characters, but the man didn't look like he fit that description. Then again, Evelyn didn't really know what special-forces types were supposed to look like to start with.<br><br>Greeting the man with a slight nod of her head, Evelyn quickly found her seat and settled herself in. As the door to the meeting room swung shut, she thought she heard a noise outside, indicating that there were more arrivals yet.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: November Cell main game thread</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>MissFire</strong> on <strong>02-04-2016, 19:59:23</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatright">(http://i1113.photobucket.com/albums/k512/MissF1R3/Mona3_zpswv5zowud.jpg)</div><strong>Character:</strong> Mona Temple<br><strong>Location/Time:</strong> Brooklyn Warehouse - Yesterday, Early Evening&nbsp; to Wall Street Penthouse - Today, Early Morning<br><strong>Attire:</strong> Black leather jacket, jeans, boots, t-shirt. <br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Open<br><hr><br><em>"I always knew you were crooked, Temple. But I just need you to do one thing to prove it to me; kill him."</em><br><br><em>"...Whatever I have to do to get some real firepower, Eddie."</em><br><br><em>"Don't call me that."</em><br><br>A van marked 'Marconi Shipping &amp; Storage' idled a short distance away from the warehouse. Inside were a few highly trained professionals monitoring surveillance equipment. A joint operation between the ATF and the NYPD. Inside the innocuous-looking building were a dozen gun smugglers and enough merchandise to start a proper militia. Also inside the building; ATF agent William Dunsmoore, who'd recently been taken hostage while on a failed operation tailing one of the suspects. Detective Mona Temple had been wired up with the smallest possible surveillance camera and mic in an effort to capture the layout of the warehouse and prep for a raid. Her mission was to ascertain the location of the hostage and the general strength of the criminals inside the warehouse.<br><br>It had all gone to hell, of course. Edward Sawton, the wide-bodied and burly fireplug of a man was the leader of this little group of murder merchants and he'd run into Mona before. That he didn't just shoot her when she showed up at the front door was indicative of how little he thought of her. She had a reputation of making the law bend in order to suit her own vision of justice. They'd practically strip searched her - didn't find the mic and cam, thank god - and took her precious CZ75. The Czech-made pistol that was her favorite sidearm. Unarmed, Ed and three of his goon squad led her up some stairs to an office where Will Dunsmoore sat tied to a chair. Edward passed her a Glock and Mona held it in her hand. She looked at the weapon, then back at Ed. <br><br><em>"...It's not loaded. Whadda you want me to do, club him with it?"</em> she said.<br><br>Incredulous, the surprise showed on his face a moment before he relaxed and let slip an easy smile. <em>"Impressive. Not many people can tell if a weapon is loaded by the weight. Here, Detective,"</em> he said, passing her a single bullet. <br><br>Mona scowled and loaded the gun, <em>"So glad you trust me, Eddie."</em><br><br><em>"Don't call me that."</em><br><br>Mona shrugged her shoulders at him. She turned and pointed the weapon at a visibly sweating ATF agent. Her choices were limited. The point of the mission was to rescue him and arrest the arms dealers, but unless she killed him, they'd kill her. Choices, choices. She looked at William from behind her shades and remarked, <em>"Sorry. This is going to hurt."</em> Ed smiled.<br><br><strong>Bang!</strong><br><br>The shot was wide. It was supposed to be. A miraculous shot, really. It severed the ropes holding Will's arms behind the chair and grazed his right arm before continuing and lodging itself into the knee of a criminal that had been standing just behind and to the right of him. The ATF reacted quickly and jumped out of his seat, grabbed the chair by the back and smashed it into the face of the nearest goon. At the same time, Mona turned and bashed in the face of the criminal next to her with one solid smack of the Glock. She hit him right in the nose and his face was awash in red. He reeled and dropped his weapon, which Mona caught as she dove backwards, barely missed by Ed who'd drawn his own pistol and fired off a pair of shots. Mona fired once, hitting Ed in the hand and causing him to cry out and drop his weapon.<br><br><em>"Gah! You... bitch.."</em> growled the burly gun runner through clenched teeth. <br><br><em>"You're fine, Eddie, it's a through and through."</em><br><br><em>"Don't call- hrk!"</em> Eddie started to talk, but was cut off as Mona grabbed him by the collar, turning him around as she pulled him to his feet. Outside the office, the rest of the gun runners had heard the gunfire and were already training their weapons on the office door. Meanwhile, the task force in the van started scrambling to gear up and knock down the front door before everything went to hell.<br><br><strong><em>"OH MY GOD, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"</em></strong> shouted Will Dunsmoore.<br><br>The task force was too late.<br><br>Mona shoved Ed out the office door and pushed him over the catwalk railing. The rest of the runners held their fire for fear of hitting their ally and, for Ed's part, he managed to only break three ribs as he landed on a pile of crates. Mona used the opportunity to shoot the one gun runner up on the catwalk and then dive for cover. Despite being thoroughly aghast at Mona's actions, ATF agent William Dunsmoore was quick on his feat and also used the brief window to sprint from the office and dash down the stairs to cover behind some crates. He flanked the gun runners who were all focused on Mona, the agent getting off a pair of shots that put one down and divided their attention. Taking the opportunity, Mona used the pistol she'd confiscated during the office scuffle to fire down on the criminals. Six shots, three down. Two in the chest for each in rapid succession. Their numbers dwindling, two of the runners broke and bolted for the door - likely to be met by the task force.<br><br>There were still two more, though. Mona started to rise only to be met with gunfire from below. She had to duck again to avoid having her head blown off. Will was trying to edge his way around to get a decent shot. The last thug was a bit more creative. During the initial scuffle he'd run off and was now manning an industrial lifting crane. The rumble of it's engine now echoing in the warehouse. Mona whipped around in time to see it, but not in time to clear the walkway before he managed to slam the curved hook into the catwalk. Metal squealed and bent, Temple clingling to the railing as the crane started to wrench the entire walkway up.<br><br><em>"Fuck!"</em> shouted Mona. She was lucky enough to keep hold of her gun and raised it, firing down on the other gun runner. Miss. Out. The catwalk whined, bolts popping as it started to come free. Then, a call from below.<br><br><strong><em>"Temple! Catch!" </em></strong><br><br>It was Will, sprinting from cover, scooping up a fallen weapon. The gun runner on the ground turned and aimed at him. Everything seemed in slow motion. Will tossed the weapon into the air at Mona, then dropped and slid like he was trying to steal home base. Mona lept from the walkway, catching the gun in mid-air and firing just as the grounded thug did. The runner's shot went high, Mona's hit him in the back. He went down as Will pulled the trigger on his own weapon and took out the crane-operating gun runner. <br><br>Mona grunted as she hit a stack of boxes, rolled off, landed on another one. She groaned. That was going to bruise. Right at that moment, the door to the warehouse burst open. A flashbang blinded her and William both. <br><br><em>"Freeze! ATF! Hands up! Hands up!"</em><br><br>She groaned and lifted her shades to rub her eyes. Right on time as always.<br><br><hr><br>Yesterday had been interesting. After the raid there was the usual debriefing for Mona. Hours of paper work and going over every last round spent. The usual being scolded by superiors. What she'd done to Eddie was quite against the law. Then again, she'd done quite a few such things in the name of what she considered to be the greater good. It usually worked out. The way she'd been fucked over by the NYPD for most of her early years had left her with a lot of wiggle room and a lot of favors to cash in. This time, however, she didn't expect her debriefing to be interrupted by a mysterious visitor with some extremely good credentials. The meeting she'd had with this man in black had been an eye-opener. The proposal he'd made was too interesting not to accept. No more hunting for small fish in a big pond; it was time to hunt sharks in the ocean. So to speak.<br><br>So that's how she found herself on Wall Street. <br><br>Not as exciting a first destination as she'd hoped. <br><br>After passing the security check, Mona arrived to find herself in a spacious and luxurious apartment. The kind that screamed 'you can never afford this in your life' out of every last object and knickknack in it. For all it's elegance, Mona didn't really like it that much. It was too open, somehow too impersonal. Her apartment was shitty, that's for certain, but it had a 'lived in' feeling that Mona enjoyed. This place didn't have that. It did, however, have a woman looking around and a man eating breakfast, which made her briefly think she'd actually walked into the apartment of some rich couple. She stared at both of them from behind her shades, her expression neutral. In her head, however, she was wondering how best to proceed. Neither of these people screamed 'spy'. Nor did this place. What was she supposed to do, shout <em>"IS THIS THE SPY PARTY?"</em><br><br>Mona's lips tightened into a minute frown. For the moment, she kept her mouth shut, stuffed her hands into her jacket pockets and started to walk further inside, looking around very carefully as she moved. To outside observers it looked like she was wary, like she was expecting a gunfight to start at any second and that she might need to shoot someone in the head. The look on her face also said that she might not mind that too much. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: November Cell main game thread</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Praxis</strong> on <strong>02-04-2016, 21:01:45</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatright">(https://pbs.twimg.com/media/B_GMAd6U0AEOiMR.jpg)</div><strong>Character:</strong> <strong>David Oestreicher</strong> (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=246835.msg12206090#msg12206090)<br><strong>Location/Time:</strong> 09:06, 63 Wall Street, New York, Penthouse.<br><strong>Attire:</strong> Moderately priced, impeccably cared for suit; very polished dress shoes<br><strong>Tagged:</strong><strong>Mona</strong>, Open<br><hr><br>New York was not the "greatest city in the world" as some would have you believe.&nbsp; It was crowded.&nbsp; It was loud.&nbsp; The people on the sidewalk walked as aggressively as the drivers drove on the streets.&nbsp; If you could call it driving.&nbsp; More appropriate would be "parking" with random occurrences of movement towards the location you wished to be at.<br><br>He had not anticipated the traffic and now he felt as though he was already a step behind when it came to this meeting that had been arranged.&nbsp; He'd had three discussions prior to this meeting being arranged.&nbsp; He had the feeling that the people in charge were very thorough ; so thorough that he had been expecting to be turned down.&nbsp; Since leaving the armed forces he had been...struggling.&nbsp; <br><br>With everything.<br><br>He was expecting to not hear anything back at all so when he got the call; he had taken it without a moment's hesitation.&nbsp; Yes; the money would be nice but really; it was just good to have something to do once again.<br><br><hr><br>He'd heard such things existed but the palm scan followed by the retinal scan was a clear indicator that this new opportunity was indeed one that took itself and it's operational security seriously.&nbsp; His eyebrows lifted slightly as he entered the penthouse and took in the decor...at least for a moment before his attention was drawn to movement.&nbsp; He was silent for a moment, taking in the appearance of the woman across the room from him.&nbsp; She moved...competently...cautiously.&nbsp; <br><br><em>She's trained...</em><br><br>That didn't come as a surprise.&nbsp; Considering the process he went through to be invited here he suspected everyone present would be very...very skilled at something in particular and most like good at...well...a good number of things really.&nbsp; He closed the door behind him, with enough force that the woman in the room would hear it "click" shut so as to give her a sign he was present.<br><br>He then cleared his throat; affected an easy smile and moved towards her with his hand extended in an offered greeting.&nbsp; "Hi there, Oestreicher.&nbsp; I'm late and I thought there would be more here...?"&nbsp; He made sure to meet her eyes despite the sunglasses she was wearing before looking about the rest of the front room.&nbsp; "I guess there's more to find here?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: November Cell main game thread</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>MistressofPen</strong> on <strong>03-04-2016, 03:56:56</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatright">(http://i1133.photobucket.com/albums/m592/MistressofPen/Steph01.jpg) </div><strong>Character:</strong> Stephanie Kane<br><strong>Location/Time:</strong> Home; 63 Wall Street/0910<br><strong>Attire:</strong> Jeans, boots, sweater, scarf, leather jacket.<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> All Present<br><hr><br>The first indication that something wasn’t quite right was when the light on the alarm system was unlit.&nbsp; Stephanie stared at the little box on the wall in her garage for a long moment before setting down her shopping bag and picking up a baseball.&nbsp; She’d been a pitcher in high school and college and had a good aim.&nbsp; And, a bat would take you too close for her tastes.<br><br>Opening the door into the kitchen, she saw a man who was vaguely familiar, but being out of place, she took a moment to recognize him.<br><br>“Ian?” she hissed, entering the kitchen and staring at the well-dressed man at her kitchen table.&nbsp; He’d had the audacity to make himself a cup of coffee!&nbsp; “What the hell…?”<br><br>“Good to see you, too,” the man said, taking a sip of the coffee.&nbsp; “How’s the hunt going?”<br><br>“What are you doing here?” she asked, glancing around the kitchen for anything else he might have done.<br><br>“Sit.&nbsp; Let’s have a conversation.”<br><br>Stephanie’s eyes narrowed.&nbsp; “That means you want to talk and me to shut-up.”<br><br>The man smiled minimally, but didn’t argue the point, simply gesturing to the chair across the table from him.<br><br>He shared with her the information that she had gathered on the people who had killed her parents and others like them.&nbsp; He let her know that she’d been watched from that point.&nbsp; And, he shared that he was the reason for her Air Force career’s demise.<br><br>“You are a pain in the ass,” he said, genially.&nbsp; “You are single-minded, determined, and conniving.”<br><br>Stephanie started to deny the accusations, when he lifted his hand a fraction from the table, she fell silent, glaring.<br><br>“But, your ‘research’ you call it, sent us along the right line.”<br><br>“You aren’t telling me you have found the group responsible…”<br><br>The man looked down at the table, drew a breath and then looked at her from under his brow.&nbsp; “No; I’m not telling you that,” he said, an inflection on “tell.”<br><br>Stephanie stared at him, her eyes searching his face.&nbsp; She gave a small nod.<br><br>“I have a job offer for you…”<br><br>“But, my writing…”<br><br>He gave her a hard look.<br><br>“O.K.&nbsp; So, the last book was a dud…”<br><br>He snorted.<br><br>“Editors suck,” she said, sitting back in her chair.&nbsp; “What’s the job?”<br><br>The plan that was laid out had her first grinning, sure her leg was being pulled by the man she’d known as a “consultant” with credentials from an alphabet soup of government entities; all were false she’d found out.&nbsp; But, as he talked, Stephanie began to believe him.&nbsp; What other way could a group work than to be autonomous in the way that he described?&nbsp; You flash credentials and you either lose credibility, become an instant target, or are feared so that nothing you learned could be accepted at face value.<br><br>“And, they aren’t to hunt jay-walkers or drug addicts?” she asked.<br><br>“Hardly.”<br><br>“Real work…”<br><br>“Serious work.&nbsp; Eliminating targets.”<br><br>Stephanie took a moment to absorb the killing part.&nbsp; “Can I trust you?” she asked.<br><br>The man’s face went blank and then he chuckled.&nbsp; “No.”<br><br>She shrugged one shoulder.&nbsp; “O.K.”<br><br>He nodded.&nbsp; He placed a tablet on the table and told her to put her hand on it.&nbsp; Then, he used what appeared to be a cell phone to take a photo of her eye.&nbsp; And, then he packed up and was gone.<br><br>Stephanie watched him leave by the front door.&nbsp; It seemed surreal.&nbsp; She walked back to the kitchen and looked at the table and chuckled; he’d taken the cup with him.<br><br><hr><br>New York City<br>April 15 -- 0910<br>63 Wall Street<br><br>The feeling of country mouse in the city grew from the moment she landed at JFK to the time she reached the apartment building, her assigned destination. Not that she lived in the country.&nbsp; But, the Redwoods made you feel rural even though San Jose was 5 minutes away.&nbsp; She paused on the street, waiting for a break in traffic to turn the Kawasaki into the structure’s driveway.&nbsp; She took a deep breath, focused on the traffic, picked a spot and shot through, earning a symphony of honks and a few single-finger salutes.&nbsp; She grinned behind the face-plate and steered the Ninja away from the parking garage to a spot by the front doors.&nbsp; She’d rented the Ninja in an effort to center herself.&nbsp; After all, who didn’t get their head on straight whipping through a strange city on a motorcycle?&nbsp; Also, being a bit of a speed freak, she’d managed to nearly make up the time that her flight was late.&nbsp; She powered off the cycle, removed her gloves and then the helmet, tucking the gloves inside.&nbsp; Stephanie unlocked the boot and hooked the rectangular fitting from her helmet over the inside bracket, replaced the cover, and effectively locked her helmet to the bike.&nbsp; <br><br>She had a serious case of helmet head, but she was late.&nbsp; Kicking the stand into place, Stephanie beeped on the alarm and then hurried into the building.&nbsp; She glanced at the lobby and went directly to the elevator; it was nice, but not extravagant.&nbsp; The penthouse had its own button and she rode up so fast she almost didn’t get her hair put back into a folded ponytail before the doors opened.&nbsp; Dragging her scarf from around her neck, she shoved it into one of the pockets of the leather jacket as she walked to the lone door, and the security panel beside it.<br><br>Prepared by the events that had taken place in her home, Stephanie looked at the panel and placed her hand on the scanner and looked into the other, retinal scanner.&nbsp; The door to the penthouse opened to her touch and she pushed the door open before entering fully.<br><br>It was beautiful; un-lived-in pristine, kind of cold.&nbsp; The wood floors were nice, she mused, looking around at the dark furnishings.&nbsp; She walked a few steps inside, glanced around, and stared at the view from the huge windows.<br><br>“Sonofabitch,” she breathed out, looking at the other towering buildings.&nbsp; She didn’t have time to gawk.&nbsp; She could hear others in the apartment.&nbsp; She walked quickly towards the sounds, past a pool table and the kitchen, then to a hallway with numerous doors. The space had obviously been remodeled.&nbsp; Making her way along the hall, she reached a door that was open and looked in.<br><br>It looked like a small conference room.&nbsp; Others were there ahead of her.&nbsp; She knew she was late and she was not going to apologize for that.&nbsp; Not knowing what to expect, Stephanie remained stoic; a small nod to the others and then she noticed the “place cards” in the form of labeled black boxes sitting on envelopes.&nbsp; Moving around the table, she came to her name on one of the boxes and stopped, next to the man who had eaten something.<br><br>“Hi,” she said, glancing at those assembled.&nbsp; “I’m Kane,” she said with a slight nod of her head to the box.&nbsp; <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: November Cell main game thread</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Kokaine</strong> on <strong>03-04-2016, 10:36:04</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatright">(http://data.whicdn.com/images/12108300/large.jpg)</div><strong>Character:</strong> Danika Quinn<br><strong>Location | Time:</strong> 63 Wall Street, New York, Penthouse. | 0913<br><strong>Attire:</strong> Cropped blk &amp; wht varsity jacket &amp; red hoodie, blk beater, pale jeans, blk sneakers, mis-matched multi-color socks, blk beanie<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> All<br><hr><span style="font-size: 12pt;" class="bbc_size"><em><strong><span style="font-family: courier new;" class="bbc_font">APR 14, 2016 | 2036 HOURS</span></strong></em></span><br><br>There was not an ounce of remorse in her gaze.<br><br>"Are you... are... is that my phone?! Are you kidding me! My fucking brand new phone?!" <br><br>Danika's gaze lifted from the partially deconstructed device splayed before her to the agents who had been babysitting her for the past week. One, Samuels, was looming over the beaten and worn coffee table toward her, his face close enough to smell the grape scent of her bubblegum as she blew a bubble and popped it unfazed. He was built like a big firm square, all bulk and hard edges that likely intimidated quite a few. He seemed to fill up the cramped living room area in his attempt to menace her but Dani had long since gotten used to being bullied. Triplett on the other hand was tall and as fit and trim as ever despite having gone entirely grey. Unlike his partner, he stood back, leaning in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room with only a gleam of amusement to mar his otherwise sober expression. It seemed that even with all the things he'd likely seen in his many years, nothing was as amusing as watching his hotheaded rookie partner struggle to deal with their current assignment. <br><br>At present said rookie was fighting not to do something regrettable--like strangle Danika--and apparently the sheer will power it took was enough to have him going beet red. Or else the heat in the too small apartment was finally getting to him.<br><br>"I... .... You... ...." He made a choking motion with his hands before balling them into fists.<br><br>"I told you I was bored! And you were warned of what happens when I'm bored." Danika shrugged as if she hadn't been essentially screwing with Samuels since he'd first talked down to her like she must be stupid. As far as she was concerned this was their own faults. They'd taken away most of her toys in an effort to keep her isolated until they received whatever call so she'd gotten creative. Mostly with Sameuls' things cuz it was fun to watch the vein in his forehead pulse. "Anyway, I dunno what you're so mad about. I just wanted a look." She blew yet another bubble and glanced down toward the phone. "Its actually pretty decent. You know, aside from being grossly over priced and all."<br><br>"You... PUT IT BACK!" The words damn near shouted at her and the accompanying spittle made her jerk back.<br><br>"Alright alright kid," Triplett interjected, "Take a chill pill. You're far too young to have an aneurysm. Go... walk it off or something."<br><br>"But she..."<br><br>"...figured out how to get under your skin days ago." He pointed out, making it sound more like Samuels' shortcoming than any real skill of Danika's. "Go walk it off." <br><br>The tone left no room for argument and defeated, Samuels turned to stomp off like an overgrown baby. Danika snickered.<br><br>"And you--" Caught, her face sobered up, going soft in an effort to use her baby face for what had to be the hundredth time in the past eight days. "Don't even try it. I'm immune kiddo." His stern features were still amused but there was an undercurrent of steel that even Dani couldn't ignore. Triplett had drawn the line with him their first day. "Put the pieces back together and make sure it works." He paused as if satisfied then thought to add, "Correctly. No funny business, kid. Then get yourself some sleep. The call came through, we move out early in the morning." <br><br>"Fine." Danika huffed and looked back down. She'd put the stupid phone back together but she'd take her time. Sleep wasn't something she enjoyed anymore and any excuse to avoid it would do.<br><br><br><br><span style="font-size: 12pt;" class="bbc_size"><em><strong><span style="font-family: courier new;" class="bbc_font">PRESENT</span></strong></em></span><br><br>Dani stood outside the door to the penthouse, hesitating. If anyone came up behind her she'd look as if she were half drooling over the biometric locks but truth was they were nothing she hadn't seen before. No, she was definitely hesitating. Having heard the door shut just before she reached it she knew she wasn't the first one here but that had been expected since traffic had made them late. It wasn't the fact that there were likely others inside the apartment that made her hesitate though. No, it was the pictures in her head. The pictures that would never go away. <br><br><em>You back out now, you go away til you're old and grey and they'll still be there...</em><br><br>Truth.<br><br>The deal was simple. If she cooperated, she'd work off her sentence and have her record cleared and her mom would be relocated. Protected. Even if she... if something to happened to her, if she held up her end of things then her mom would be looked after. If she ran, turned, or otherwise reneged on their deal then she'd be charged with any and everything they could manage to throw at her and make stick and her mom would get nothing. It should have made the choice easy and yet... those pictures. She couldn't stop seeing her mother's face in the pictures.<br><br><em>Fuck it. We're here. Just keep moving forward, Dani. You can't go back.</em><br><br>That was right. She just had to keep moving forward. <br><br>A deep breath was taken and upon its release the young woman raised her hand to the reader. A few moments later the locks had been successfully navigated and the door opened to allow her entry into a world she knew good and well she had no business being in.<br><br>Ah well. She had to keep moving forward.<br><br>Danika didn't waste time with the tour. She would do so later when she could afford to take her time and fully walk the space to map it in her mind. Her eyes did scan the spaces as she moved through them, her sneakers light on the mahogany floors while she picked up details here and there, but mostly she was focused on figuring out where the others were gathered; which she did in surprisingly minimal time.<br><br>Stepping into the meeting room, her poker face--a cavalier mask that was far more comfortable--was already in place. Without a word, she shoved her hands into her pockets and strolled around the table, her eyes traveling to each of the other occupants in turn before she came to the seat marked for her. Pulling one hand from her pocket she pulled out her chair and took a seat, managing to look perfectly at home in the chair instantly. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: November Cell main game thread</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Praxis</strong> on <strong>04-04-2016, 18:35:13</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatright">(https://pbs.twimg.com/media/B_GMAd6U0AEOiMR.jpg)</div><strong>Character:</strong> <strong>David Oestreicher</strong> (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=246835.msg12206090#msg12206090)<br><strong>Location/Time:</strong> 09:23, 63 Wall Street, New York, Penthouse.<br><strong>Attire:</strong> Moderately priced, impeccably cared for suit; very polished dress shoes<br><strong>Tagged:</strong>Everyone present<br><hr><br>It was a good deal to take in and process.&nbsp; Five new people. Five new skill sets. Five new personalities and with no real motivation other than money.&nbsp; Sure; a few of them might be convinced that they are doing something that matters; something that will make a difference but looking over the profiles of the people in the room that were seated in the room with him; it looked like money was going to be the single biggest motivator in this group.<br>&nbsp;<br><em>I need to remember that while some of them are military; we are not in the military.&nbsp; There is no chain of command and no reason for them to do what I say...great.</em> <br><br>David had never lead an operation before.&nbsp; There had been times when his intel was the primary and many times he had weighed in on decisions but to lead?&nbsp; A muscle in his jaw twitched a moment as he pressed his teeth together.&nbsp; His eyes narrowing slightly as he looked over the profiles included on the phone he had just received.&nbsp; With one hand he reached under the opposite sleeve of his suit jacket.&nbsp; Revealing a watch and taking a moment to check the time; then setting a timer for eleven and one-quarter hours.<br><br>"Right..." , he had already stood and for a moment he wondered if it might be perceived that he was "trying too hard" but standing and speaking in a situation such as this was reflex for him.&nbsp; He gave the people present a small, emotion-free smile.&nbsp; "I'm Oestreicher.&nbsp; Oestreicher, David, Dave...anything is fine.&nbsp; If you have concerns about...anything; please let me know. It seems we have been given a small window to prepare.&nbsp; I'll get right into it and if you feel that you have a skill set that is under-utilized that could help with the op. please let me know."<br><br>He pivoted some...moving with a slow, steady pace across the room as he continued to speak.&nbsp; His brow furrowed as he looked to the information on the phone that had been provided for him. "Once again people, we are on a very tight timeline...it looks as though we have three targets.&nbsp; Going forward the three will be referred to as follows. Alpha; one Francis Cameron.&nbsp; Bravo; the research data that will be found at the hotel.&nbsp; Charlie; any and all occurrences of the research data that is not at the hotel." , his attention turned to the attractive, dark-skinned women that was the last to arrive.<br><br>"Miss Quinn.&nbsp; We need schematics of the hotel, particularly the floor where Alpha is located.&nbsp; I'm hoping with your knowledge; you can acquire that?&nbsp; Also...please excuse my ignorance on this; but we will need your expertise to secure the Bravo as well as Charlie targets.&nbsp; I can't help but think Charlie in particular won't be easy...but I suppose that's why you're here."&nbsp; He gave her a small, but what he hoped was an encouraging smile before continuing to pace, turning smoothly and heading back in the other direction as his mind churned over the details.<br><br>"Detective Temple; your knowledge of New York will be of use.&nbsp; We need a plan for exfil; as well as idea as to how long we have before law enforcement arrives if things go pear-shaped.&nbsp; You'll be our eyes and ears at the hotel." &nbsp;He paused a moment, giving the woman a quick nod of acknowledgement before turning to the man that had taken the time to find himself some food.&nbsp; "Mr. Valdez...we will need a primary and secondary plan for the elimination of Alpha.&nbsp; So you know you have options, I can assist with controlled explosives if you feel that is a better option and you can provide coverage via overwatch but your thoughts on this will be of value."&nbsp; The information he had seen on Mr. Valdez was a concern but he wouldn't demean the man by reminding him of the need for zero collateral damage in the way of innocents.<br><br>"Miss Rose; while difficult...any and all information you can find about this weaponized virus might be of use.&nbsp; It's doubtful that he would have already synthesized such a thing but if he had and if it's present at the site; we might need to know of a way to quarantine and neutralize."<br><br>He exhaled slowly and turned to look at the woman that had introduced herself as "Kane."<br><br>"Miss Kane; I will need your help with procurement.&nbsp; People; whatever you might need that is not provided here; by all means let Miss Kane and I know and we will do our best to acquire it.&nbsp; We are short on time so please make your requests reasonable and possible."&nbsp; He looked over his shoulder at the screen where they had just received their first mission.&nbsp; He then took a moment to look around the room.&nbsp; He didn't see any cameras or microphones but that didn't mean they weren't there. &nbsp;"Also Miss Kane; if you have the time; find as much as you can about this Odyssey Initiative.&nbsp; Miss Quinn might be able to assist you and possibly the others.&nbsp; I don't like secrets..."<br><br>He looked to the phone he held before placing it face down on the table.&nbsp; "So we will need comms but aside from that; what do you people need and what are your concerns?&nbsp; Please feel free to assist one another with what I have suggested if you think it will help with getting it done quickly."<br><br><br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: November Cell main game thread</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>MissFire</strong> on <strong>04-04-2016, 19:30:53</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatright">(http://i1113.photobucket.com/albums/k512/MissF1R3/Mona3_zpswv5zowud.jpg)</div><strong>Character:</strong> Mona Temple<br><strong>Location/Time:</strong> Brooklyn Warehouse - Yesterday, Early Evening&nbsp; to Wall Street Penthouse - Today, Early Morning<br><strong>Attire:</strong> Black leather jacket, jeans, boots, t-shirt. <br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Open<br><hr><br>Mona wore a sour expression the entire time. Right from when she started looking at the new phone all the way up until Oestreicher told her what she'd be doing. The first problem was the phone. She hated modern phones. Found them too complicated and unwieldy. She'd just managed to get her contacts entered into the one in her pocket and now she had a new one to worry about. Fantastic. The second thing that turned her stomach was the man they were after. Pedophile. It made her blood boil. She barely paid attention to the rest of the debrief on the man; she wanted him dead right off. The third and final thing that got her ire was Oestreicher's description of what she was going to be used for. When he stopped talking, she leaned forward and peered at him over her sunglasses, staring at him with her one good eye.<br><br><em>"Excuse me. I was told I would be helping make a difference, not be a human GPS. I don't fucking know the layout of every building in the city, you shitbird. What do you want me to do? Get your techie to get the blueprints and plan your exfil from that,"</em> she said, bitterly, <em>"And if you want to know when the police will arrive, monitor the emergency band. You don't need me for that. For this shit."</em><br><br>She leaned back, spread her arms wide. <em>"I ask you, what the fuck am I doing here? Because I'm not gonna waste my time playing fucking tour guide. You wanna put me to use? Let me kill this asshole. Otherwise, I'm out. Call me when you actually need me."</em> That said, she pushed her chair back and stood. She eyed David across the room, either waiting for him to give her something useful to do, or to tell her to get out. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: November Cell main game thread</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>GnothiSeauton</strong> on <strong>04-04-2016, 20:58:30</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatright">(http://i.imgur.com/mDV66ep.jpg)</div><strong>Character:</strong>&nbsp; Oscar Valdez<br><strong>Location/Time:</strong>&nbsp; Just before 0930 hours.&nbsp; 63 Wall Street, New York, New York.&nbsp; Penthouse.<br><strong>Attire:</strong>&nbsp; Blue-grey business jacket and slacks.&nbsp; White dress shirt.&nbsp; Black shoes.&nbsp; Black sunglasses.<br><strong>Tagged:</strong>&nbsp; Everyone in the room mentioned.&nbsp; Interacting with Kaine, Quinn, Temple, and Oestreicher.<br><br><hr><br>The opening of the door had drawn Oscar's head towards it.&nbsp; He had been expecting a big, bad-looking man, an intimidating force.&nbsp; Certainly not someone looking so inconspicuous, and certainly not a slender and appealing blonde.&nbsp; <br><br>His eyes watched her from behind the thick shades.&nbsp; When he had been given the choice, the overview, of what was happening, of what he was signing up for, there had been certain expectations about what his team would be composed of in his mind.&nbsp; Special forces.&nbsp; People with strong military vibes.&nbsp; The best of the best of the best type of shit.&nbsp; But a woman like her?&nbsp; A hand reached up, bringing the glasses down just a little as he continued to eat the first real, decent meal in what seemed like a lifetime.&nbsp; <br><br>I'd do her, he thought to himself, pushing the sunglasses back up over his strained, hangover-stung eyes, and giving the woman a polite nod of the head.<br><br>It wasn't long until the door was opened again.&nbsp; On that occasion, the female figure had piqued his interest in a different light.&nbsp; His head turned to see the hesitant look on her face, the uncertainty that was undeniable.&nbsp; That one had given Oscar the impression of a reservedness, that she wasn't in the mood to make small talk in his opinion.&nbsp; Which didn't bother him at all, he thought, as he took another bite of the ham sandwich.&nbsp; The girl had seen some shit, was tough and on guard.&nbsp; He liked her already.<br><br>I'd do her too, he thought to himself.<br><br>When the other man came into the room, Oscar took care to take note of him.&nbsp; He had screamed military to him, beneath the suit.&nbsp; Something in the way he walked, in the way he carried himself.&nbsp; And the shoes.&nbsp; Those highly polished shoes.&nbsp; He didn't strike him as the type who was a man of Wall Street and the Stock Exchange.&nbsp; No.&nbsp; This was a military man, used to keeping himself looking respectable and in top shape.&nbsp; Oscar had been around the type often, and couldn't help but to notice the suit.&nbsp; Clean and crisp.&nbsp; A decent price tag, no doubt.<br><br>Maybe if I was drunk, Oscar considered, I'd do him.<br><br>The next person to enter had seemed like the first, yet different.&nbsp; Whereas the other who had entered the room after him had a certain aura of toughness, the newest addition to the Super Cool Assassins Club had given Oscar the impression of innocence, in a sense.&nbsp; She had to be good, dependable and strong enough to earn a place at the table.&nbsp; Military, perhaps, but at first glance, she didn't necessarily scream it at him.<br><br>Then again, he considered, he could only imagine the impression he was giving off to the others.&nbsp; <br><br>“Oscar.” He introduced himself as she gave a general greeting.&nbsp; He offered a hand.&nbsp; “Or Valdez or whatever.”<br><br>Soon the last person arrived, or what he thought to be the last person with the last empty space at the table.&nbsp; It was hard to get a good read on the woman, her face like stone, hiding any hint of emotions and intentions.&nbsp; And when she sat, looking comfortable, at peace, almost instantly, it made the woman all the more formidable in his mind.&nbsp; Maybe she was like him, another con just happy to be out on a fancy work-release program.&nbsp; Maybe she was a trained killer, just waiting for the chance to strike.&nbsp; He simply could not ell, and as a person who enjoyed reading people, it was intimidating.<br><br>With the arrival of the last person, the screen on the wall flickered to life, and Oscar's attention diverted to it.&nbsp; Good morning, Charlie, he thought to himself, enjoying the last breath of levity, before the mood and conversation turned to business.&nbsp; He brushed his hands upon his suit, cleaning his calloused paws of crumbs before reaching out and pulling the box to himself.&nbsp; True to the man's statements, everything was there just as he said.&nbsp; The phone.&nbsp; The envelope of identification.&nbsp; A small amount of cash.&nbsp; Not bad, Oscar thought to himself.<br><br>The topic turned to their current objective.&nbsp; Oscar's attention focused upon it, the sun glasses removed and deposited into the pocket of his suit.&nbsp; It was disappointing to hear that the window of opportunity was that evening, when he had planned to continue the celebrations of the previous night, but he didn't openly complain.&nbsp; He was thankful he didn't load up the orange juice with the airplane bottle of vodka in his pocket though.&nbsp; <br><br>It seemed simple enough.&nbsp; Their mission could be a walk in the park, if everything went well.&nbsp; He was liking their odds.<br><br>The man named Oestreicher began to speak.&nbsp; As he laid out the directives for each and everyone of them, Oscar had remained quiet.&nbsp; When it came to him and his orders, he gave a simple nod of the head, already running through the various ideas and schemes in his mind.&nbsp; <br><br>His mind was still going over the various ideas and schemes when the detective went off.&nbsp; Clearly she was not happy with her orders.&nbsp; It could have been the target, and his taste of women.&nbsp; It could have been just a bad day.&nbsp; For all he knew, it could have been the fact he didn't make sandwiches for everyone.&nbsp; He just hoped that this temper wasn't the norm when it came to dealing with the detective.<br><br>“Whoa whoa whoa there, Detective...” Oscar began, looking around the room for some support before swiveling around in his chair to face the tough cop.&nbsp; “Ain't no-body asking you to be a GPS.”<br><br>&nbsp;“Now, I'm sure our tech guru here could get us some exfil plans, but it's sure as hell a whole lot of difference from looking at maps and cameras, and being there behind the wheel.&nbsp; Not that I'm doubting the lovely lady's abilities.”&nbsp; He looked over to the hacker, his eyes lingering before giving her a playful wink before turning back to the cop.&nbsp; “In my book you're a valuable asset.&nbsp; Maybe the most valuable to me.&nbsp; You know streets.&nbsp; Back streets.&nbsp; Know response time.&nbsp; Probably are familiar with whoever is running security over there at this place.&nbsp; You're my ticket to not getting burned and getting embarrassed.”<br><br>He sat up a bit straighter in his chair.&nbsp; “Normally, I'd just take a rifle to the building across the way, or make him a nice package of C-4.&nbsp; But, since we're doing this nice and tidy, my ass is probably going to be on the ground, and while I don't usually like working on the ground with people I don't know, you're more than welcome to tag along, help me with securing the spot, doing our thang.&nbsp; Whatever.” Oscar said.&nbsp; It didn't sit entirely right with him, going out on a limb and going against what he was usually accustomed to on a job, but he wasn't lying when he stated the value she had when he was going to be on the ground, leaving a murder scene.&nbsp; If bringing her along to help clean up and contain the target meant pleasing her into getting him the hell out of there to freedom, he'd do it. <br><br>Oscar looked to David.&nbsp; “That work for you, Boss?”
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: November Cell main game thread</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Lyndsey</strong> on <strong>04-04-2016, 22:30:45</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatright">(http://i64.tinypic.com/f34z09.jpg)</div><strong>Character:</strong> Evelyn Rose<br><strong>Location/Time:</strong> 0930 Hours, 63 Wall Street, New York, Penthouse.<br><strong>Attire:</strong> Dark blue jeans and brown leather boots. Plain white sweater. Grey pea coat, buttoned up. Teal scarf.<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> David, all present.<br><hr><br>One after the other more people arrived, each one dispelling any preconceived notions Evelyn might have had about the people she would be working with. Matter of fact, with the exception of the man in the suit who might as well have been wearing military fatigues, the blonde couldn't quite put a finger on what each of them might have done before they got themselves dragged into this. Or maybe they all volunteered for it, who knew? In any case, Evelyn wasn't in too much of a hurry to introduce herself, merely getting each new face with a cursory glance and the occasional nod of her head or polite smile.<br><br><em>What did I get myself into?</em> Evelyn found herself wondering when the video briefing had started to play. Weaponized viruses and assassinations? If Evelyn had known beforehand she might have said no to joining the initiative. <em>Well, you wanted to make a difference didn't you? This is as good a chance as any,</em> the woman thought grimly, her expression remaining stoic right till the moment the briefing had concluded, even though she was squirming in the inside. Sure, she had top marks in shooting during her stint in the military, but hitting inanimate targets and taking someone's life were two entirely different things, even if Cameron seemed like the sort of person who had it coming.<br><br>Fortunately, it appeared there were no shortage of takers for the job, judging by the explosive reaction of the woman whom Evelyn now knew to be a detective. Just like Temple, Evelyn didn't like her orders too much either, since it pretty much had her sitting on her ass until they actually knew what Cameron was working on, making her feel like she was being marginalized all over again. The blonde had been debating the merits of letting their appointed leader know that she wasn't a doctor, much less a virologist, the sort of person it would take to understand and figure out what to do with something so deadly when her thoughts were interrupted by Detective Temple's sudden outburst. <br><br><em>What did I get myself into?</em> The blonde shook her head, watching silently when the man who introduced himself as Oscar spoke up. It was apparent that he had no qualms about killing Cameron either, offering a brief glimmer of insight about what he used to do before he came here.<br><br>It was after Oscar had finished speaking that Evelyn decided to pipe up.<br><br>"It seems like everyone is keen to bump Professor Cameron off..." The blonde began quietly, speaking as if she were choosing her words carefully. "But I think it's more important to get a hold of whatever he's trying to sell first. If he does indeed have a virus that he can use as a weapon, we're talking about many innocent lives at stake. Now, I'm not an expert at this kind of work, hell, I'm not even a doctor so I probably wouldn't know what to do if we get a hold of the finished product beyond handing it over to the CDC.. but it seems we can accomplish all three objectives at once by getting close to the professor and getting him to tell us himself about this thing he has, and where we can find the rest of his research."<br><br>"Of course, there's the matter of the people who want to buy the research to deal with as well." The woman continued. "Doubt they'll be too happy with us messing with their plans."<br><br>"Just my two cents." Evelyn added, as an afterthought, shrugging her shoulders at the same time. From where she sat, the stakes looked pretty high if they messed up. Success hinged on the ability of everyone to work together as a team, and so far it seemed like they weren't off to the best of starts.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: November Cell main game thread</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>MistressofPen</strong> on <strong>05-04-2016, 07:25:28</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatright">(http://i1133.photobucket.com/albums/m592/MistressofPen/Steph01.jpg)</div><strong>Character:</strong>Stephanie Kane <br><strong>Location/Time:</strong>Penthouse, 63 Wall Street, New York/0940 <br><strong>Attire:</strong> Sweater, jeans, boots, leather jacket<br><strong>Tagged:</strong>Oscar, All, Danika<br><hr><br>Stephanie gave Oscar her hand and a quick shake.&nbsp; She looked at him and wondered why she felt like she needed to move her bag to her other side.&nbsp; But, she settled onto her seat, listening to the video and watching the reactions of those in the room.&nbsp; Did anyone else feel like they were on a 70's TV show?&nbsp; She could feel herself frown and the stubborn, mule-headed side of her started to raise up as the man talked about them performing miracles that very night.&nbsp; What the fuck?&nbsp; No self-respecting researcher was going to have his research in only one or even two locations; hell, she had three thumb drives, an external hard drive and the computer's hard drive just for her writing.&nbsp; AND, when she was finished, she sent another drive via USPS to her own P.O. Box.&nbsp; What about the other guys, the buyers?&nbsp; If the buy was expected to go down tonight why not take down the buyers, too?&nbsp; If it happened quietly enough, they could run the same scenario again and reel in a few more bad guys before word got out...<br><br>Making an effort to compose her expression, she slid her phone from her pocket and started to enter the target's name.&nbsp; As the man on the screen wound down to the end where he gave his warnings about not getting caught and the nonexistence of the Odyssey Initiative, her eyes went to the screen, then moved from face to face.&nbsp; Agents, hunh?&nbsp; We're like the A-Team on a bad day, she thought.<br><br>She read about the professor on her phone as the man, David Ostreicher (wasn't that a small appliance company?) got to his feet and began doling out tasks.&nbsp; She was smiling at her lap, where her phone revealed that the professor had had numerous jobs.&nbsp; He'd published and won a few awards; those schools lasted as his employer a little longer.&nbsp; And, then the duration got shorter.&nbsp; He got braver, she mused, and pushed the limits.&nbsp; A shame no one prosecuted him...&nbsp; Ahhh.&nbsp; A brief marriage...<br><br>Stephanie shifted as David continued speaking.... Alpha, Bravo, Charlie...&nbsp; She glanced at David.&nbsp; Ahh.&nbsp; Military proper, she mused before looking down at her phone once more.&nbsp; He worked through the group and came to her.&nbsp; Help him with procurement?&nbsp; Wait...did he just stick a target on her back?&nbsp; She pressed her lips together, but nodded, and tapped in a new search.&nbsp; She grinned as her search fell into what Mr. Ostreicher was asking of her.&nbsp; She pulled up a bunch of nonsense about Odysseus and then tried the old trick of adding "THE..." and the search narrowed.&nbsp; <br><br>Stephanie reached in her bag and pulled out a small notebook and a pen and was writing down some names when Det. Temple stood and let David have it.&nbsp; Stephanie could only watch in awe as the woman let loose.&nbsp; And, then the man beside her, Valdez, spoke, attempting to calm the woman and point out that there was more than being a tour guide involved with the task at hand.&nbsp; Yeah, like procurement assistant, she thought.<br><br>And, then the elegant woman spoke, voicing some of Stephanie's own thoughts.&nbsp; Ironically, as Ms. Rose spoke, Stephanie started to come up with reasons to follow the instructions.<br><br>She sighed and finished a list of names, names she knew.&nbsp; Names that didn't belong to real people.&nbsp; <br><br>"I totally agree with you, Ms. Rose.&nbsp; Why not get the buyers, too?&nbsp; And, maybe keep the professor, 'Alpha,' around a bit to lure others in.&nbsp; More bang for the buck, as it were.&nbsp; But, this initiative...it's deep.&nbsp; Admittedly I've only done a cursory search, but there is a corporation that owns something called The Odyssey Initiative, Inc. and the members of that corporation are Carlos Manosso, C. Auguste Dupin, Nicholas Charles, and Albert Campion.&nbsp; All literary characters.&nbsp; All some sort of law enforcement."&nbsp; She looked at the spinning infinity symbol on her phone and set it on the table.&nbsp; She had a bad feeling that she might have turned her phone into a bit of masonry.&nbsp; "Maybe someone could backtrack the money.&nbsp; If we find out where the money was transferred from...&nbsp; They always say to follow the money," she said, looking at the young woman who, from what David had said, she gathered was a computer specialist...black or white hat....who cared as long as she could get them a clue.&nbsp; Stephanie hated secrets, too.<br><br>"And, to play Devli's advocate; Suppose this job is a test?&nbsp; Suppose we go off the rails and run our own op and it works perfect, or not.&nbsp; We didn't follow the protocols Mr. X delivered.&nbsp; Will getting more baddies off the street be enough?&nbsp; Do you think they would hesitate to end us?"&nbsp; She shrugged and watched her home screen return to normal, with an added icon in the bottom right corner that looked suspiciously like a bug.&nbsp; "Oh, fu---uudge," she said, rising to walk around the table, behaving as if there had not been any outbursts, to Ms. Quinn.&nbsp; She slid the phone in front of the young woman.&nbsp; "That just appeared," she said, indicating the "bug."&nbsp; "Have you ever seen anything like that?"<br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: November Cell main game thread</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Kokaine</strong> on <strong>06-04-2016, 20:49:43</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatright">(http://data.whicdn.com/images/12108300/large.jpg)</div><strong>Character:</strong> Danika Quinn<br><strong>Location | Time:</strong> 63 Wall Street, New York, Penthouse. | Sometime after 0940 hours<br><strong>Attire:</strong> Cropped blk &amp; wht varsity jacket &amp; red hoodie, blk beater, pale jeans, blk sneakers, mis-matched multi-color socks, blk beanie<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> All<br><hr>Having opted to skip the superfluous introductions, both because she was late and because she saw them as unnecessary, Dani simply made herself comfortable and waited. It didn't matter to her in that moment whether the others could read her or not, she was sure they'd figure out enough just given time and there was really nothing to be done about that when you were expected to share a living space with someone as the case seemed to be here. Thankfully the screen in the room came to life shortly after her butt hit the seat so she didn't have to invest too much effort into ignoring anyone. <br><br>One thing that was clear: Danika Quinn was not a morning person. Living her life in the city of sin had turned her damn near nocturnal and the energy drink she'd downed on the ride over simply wasn't up to the task of hard-wiring a system like hers. Which meant the woman had to fight not to yawn during the briefing and so ended up plucking a piece of sugary grape bubble gum from her pocket. Unwrapping it she popped the gum into her mouth before seemingly focusing her attention on folding the paper wrapper into some shape or other. It likely gave the impression that she wasn't listening to what was being said but in actuality she was listening rather intently. Both to what was said and what wasn't. By the time the screen went dark again, well, D had more questions than answers. Which she supposed was to be expected in this sort of thing. In any case, by the time one of them--David Oestreicher--had begun speaking, Dani had completed her folding. Reaching out she set a tiny paper bird upon the black box she had yet to touch. <br><br>Satisfied with her impromptu project, the woman sat back and let her gaze wander to David. Looking him over as he spoke she wondered if he'd been aware that he was going to be stuck in the role of leader. From his demeanor she gathered that this was not a position he'd been in overly much prior to now and she didn't envy him in the slightest. At least his directions were clear enough. Ticking them off in her own mind she conceded that blueprints were fairly easy provided they'd been digitized and were on some server somewhere. If they weren't they might have to take a visit to physically grab the blueprints but since they were public record a good cover would be enough to accomplish that. To David all she said was, "Sure." Nodding as if it were all so easy. The other two points were the difficult parts anyhow. It would require a close scrutiny of the scum they were supposed to tag and bag in order to figure out his habits and tendencies. Hopefully at least one other person here was good at profiling individuals otherwise they were going to have hell tracking down the pieces. <br><br>Her mind was already working through a list of probabilities even as she looked over each of her new "teammates" as David addressed them. Habit had her noticing their expressions and what mannerisms they displayed unconsciously and just after David finished speaking the countdown began.<br><br><em>3... 2...--</em><br><br>She didn't even flinch as Temple began speaking, cutting off her countdown before she'd even reached one. Her fingers tapped silently on the arm of her chair in a seemingly random pattern, something she did when making note of things mentally, and she sat back to listen.<br><br>Temple definitely seemed like 5-0. Not the shiny, buttoned up rookie kind either. Nah, she was the change the world one bullet at a time sort if Dani wasn't mistaken. Her tone alone implied she'd been there, done that, three times over and was about sick of it, and Danika could understand that to a degree but that didn't mean she appreciated the "your techie" comment. <br><br><em>Seems the good detective isn't a team player, what a shock.</em><br><br>Danika rolled her eyes and let the others speak. It was the first day, the first hour, none of this was going to go smoothly but she didn't feel like contributing to crazy. In fact hearing the others was only making her tired and she almost opted to stand up and go find her room to take a nap while they got their shit together. Which was big because Danika and sleep were outright enemies these days. Oskar's wink earned him an arched brow and vaguely amused smile but that smile faded quickly as he continued on. She didn't begrudge anyone their right to survival but the oh so casual way the man spoke of offing someone was juuuuust a little scary. Was he the type like those she'd seen in the message? <br><br>The question hung without an answer and chilled, Dani was forced to file it away before she took another unwilling trip down memory lane. Shaking her head, her dark eyes took measure of the first of the blonde women to speak up and she was actually surprised when the woman offered up an interesting point. The second offered a bit more food for thought but since at least a piece of it would involve Danika's skills directly she opted to break her silence on the matter as Kane began to round the table.<br><br>"For what it's worth," she spoke up after popping the bubble she'd blown, her fingers going still before she reached up to pull her beanie off, "I say run the op as prescribed. Let's not get sucked into doin' too much because I, for one, wanna to survive this gig. We've got a lead so lets let him lead." She nodded toward David then shrugged, not entirely sure of him but then she wasn't sure of anyone in that room. <br><br>"We don't know what the Initiative dudes already have in place. Could be they're working on another angle that cleans up the mess." If they were smart they would. Relying on a total newbie team sounded like the equivalent of going on tilt and shoving all in on a bluff. Aka, the kind of move that got you knocked out. "Plus, getting the buyers can be tricky. We'd need to know what the--Alpha set up. Like how its all supposed to go down and whatnot. But the cut of it is: you want the buyers then you tap the deal, let it go through with some dummy version of the research, and then play connect the dots. There's no way to bag all the buyers tonight though. Not unless these guys are all total amateurs and planned to show up in person all gathered neatly in one spot like fish in a barrel." If they did that they deserved to be taken down by 'Big Hero 6' here.<br><br>"I do agree that nabbing first, capping later is worth considering. You get at him, you break him down and get what you need, either directly or indirectly." Her gaze strayed toward Oskar and the detective involuntarily for a moment but just as quickly she turned it instead to the phone Kane had placed in front of her. "But..." She started to continue her point about taking him out being a safety measure but trailed off on a silent curse. Flipping the phone over she removed the back and popped the battery out for now. <br><br>"Whoever this was is fucking with us," she said simply, her gaze lifting to meet Kane's. "If I decided to tap your phone, unless you knew specifically what to look for or got really lucky you'd never know. The fact that you spotted their bug that easily meant it was for show. A scare tactic." And things like this was part of the reason she hadn't touched the phone in the box just yet, she wanted time to analyze it and be able to disable whatever "bugs" they'd placed before hand. "I can remove it but it'll be a bit since I don't even know what toys they've given me to play with and how much of a tune up they'll need. Or you can use it, lead them astray or whatever. Your phone's still functional though it may get the occasional hang up due to the clunky nature of that particular program." Dani shrugged and left it to the woman to decide. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: November Cell main game thread</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Praxis</strong> on <strong>07-04-2016, 16:04:50</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatright">(https://pbs.twimg.com/media/B_GMAd6U0AEOiMR.jpg)</div><strong>Character:</strong> <strong>David Oestreicher</strong> (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=246835.msg12206090#msg12206090)<br><strong>Location/Time:</strong> 09:43, 63 Wall Street, New York, Penthouse.<br><strong>Attire:</strong> Moderately priced, impeccably cared for suit; very polished dress shoes<br><strong>Tagged:</strong>Everyone present<br><hr><br>He missed the military.&nbsp; Yes; it could be a complete cluster-fuck at times but the military was also capable of some high precision work and a good deal of it was accomplished on the solid foundation of the chain of command.&nbsp; Yes; it was restrictive at times and if applied incorrectly it would stifle creativity but it also got...shit...done.<br><br>They had already lost twenty minutes to discussion and how he handled things next was very much an inflection point regarding his previous thoughts on stifling creativity and problem solving...or getting the operation squared away.&nbsp; Detective Temple's response; while unwanted and unnecessary did not exactly come as a surprise.&nbsp; He had expected one or more of the people here to "buck" when it came to the idea of taking orders from anyone at all let alone a stranger.&nbsp; The truth of it was that after hearing what everyone had to say; it wasn't nearly as bad as he had anticipated.&nbsp; These people had good ideas.&nbsp; They certainly seemed eager.&nbsp; They just needed some guidance it seems and as loathe as he was to be in the role of guiding them; it seemed it was on him.<br><br>Detective Temple was aggressive, agitated and after she had looked at him overtop of her sunglasses; it had taken a few moments for him to deduce what it was that was unsettling about her stare; but it finally did come to him.&nbsp; Her stare had given him enough time to connect the dots.<br><br>His brow was furrowed slightly as he listened to her, not out of concern or anger but simply trying to pay attention to her concerns as well as connect the dots with her one odd eye until he finally figured it out.<br><br><em>So she's a concern when it comes to taking orders, she doesn't listen particularly well and it seems she's a liability when it comes to operational efficacy as her left-side peripheral vision is compromised. So...hard to get along with and one eye from blind.&nbsp; They brought her on for a reason. What IS her area of expertise and how can I use it?</em><br><br>Valdez was proving to be a surprise and while he didn't love it that the man was already calling him "Boss", it was a relief that someone was on side with his directions.&nbsp; Rose and Kane also seemed to be fine with the initial instructions but they also felt the need to add more to the possible plan than necessary and then Quinn weighed in and thankfully it seemed as though they were on the same page.&nbsp; Which...was unsurprising really.&nbsp; He had worked with some propellor heads in the past and they generally turned out to be very practical and very black and white.&nbsp; <em>"I say run the op as prescribed..."</em><br><br>She got it.&nbsp; The more complicated a plan and the longer it went on, the more points of failure there were.&nbsp; Ops very rarely went as planned; even the most simple of ops and this one was definitely not simple.<br><br>There was a good deal to absorb and a good deal to address and he stayed silent for a moment as he thought about all that had been said even as Quinn and Kane examined Kane's bugged phone.&nbsp; He placed his phone on the table as he looked to Detective Temple once more...silent before he looked down at his phone on the table.&nbsp; He reached out a moment and adjusted it slightly, twisting it counter-clockwise just enough to make the long edge of the phone perfectly parallel with the long edge of the table that he stood at.&nbsp; He looked to Detective Temple once more silent...before looking away to address the rest of the room.<br><br>"Good ideas people...Mr. Valdez we will hold off on the elimination of Alpha initially.&nbsp; We will extract Alpha and interrogate.&nbsp; Upon getting the information we need to properly secure Bravo and Charlie targets then we proceed with elimination of Alpha.&nbsp; Mr. Valdez how good are you at range?&nbsp; You could assist with overwatch from the cover of another building?<br><br>Miss Rose; the buyers are indeed a concern and we were given no instructions for them.&nbsp; We were told the following.&nbsp; No collateral damage in the way of innocent bystanders and that we don't get caught.&nbsp; The buyers could be a concern or they simply might be there to pick up the data and have no idea what it is they are doing.&nbsp; They might actually be innocent so a less lethal response might be required.&nbsp; It's possible they have tasers here in their armoury.&nbsp; <br><br>Miss Kane; we're not set up for prolonged detainment so while learning more about more buyers might be good in terms of national security we are going to stick to the mission parameters and keep it simple."&nbsp; He motioned momentarily with his chin towards the phone that Quinn was opening.&nbsp; "Keep me in the loop regarding what you find regarding that as well as our mysterious benefactors.&nbsp; Miss Quinn, if the hotel Alpha is at has a security feed; if you can get your way into that, it would be ideal."<br><br>He was silent a moment; looking down at the phone given him as it sat upon the table...thinking through everything.&nbsp; There were a lot of variables and he wasn't used to such.&nbsp; Generally when given an op with a good number of variables, the most effective solution was to just go in hard and fast but that wasn't a solution for downtown New York.&nbsp; Already he was concerned about showing up on YouTube.<br><br>"Detective Temple; we can speak in another room for a moment...", he spoke to her, nodding his head once in confirmation before making his way towards the door, pausing long enough to look back to Valdez.&nbsp; "And Mr. Valdez...it's Oestreicher or David.&nbsp; Not boss." He nodded to the man once before exiting the room and ideally have a chance to speak to Detective Temple alone.<br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: November Cell main game thread</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Lyndsey</strong> on <strong>07-04-2016, 17:39:28</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatright">(http://i64.tinypic.com/f34z09.jpg)</div><strong>Character:</strong>&nbsp; <strong>Evelyn Rose</strong> (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=246835.msg12204159#msg12204159)<br><strong>Location/Time:</strong> 0950, 63 Wall Street, New York, Penthouse - armory.<br><strong>Attire:</strong> Dark blue jeans and brown leather boots. Plain white sweater. Grey pea coat, buttoned up. Teal scarf.<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Open.<br><hr><br>David's words carried a sense of finality about them, at least to Evelyn. The woman merely nodded in the affirmative and rose to her feet. "I'll just hang around till you need me then." She said, with just a hint of annoyance in her voice. This morning had not gone as she had expected at all. She had arrived expecting to be part of something great, what she found instead seemed to be a ragtag group of people brought together in the hope that they would magically click. <br><br>"Suppose that's why they even came to me in the first place.." the blonde muttered under her breath as she entered the main living area. "No way they would've if they wanted the cream of the crop."<br><br>A sigh and shake of her head followed, and Evelyn stood still for a couple of moments while she decided on her next course of action. She knew a trip to the armory was in order, but decided instead to go and claim one of the bedrooms for herself first, if only just to sit down for a minute or two to allow everything to sink in. Picking the one she thought would offer her the best view of the streets below, Evelyn was surprised when she walked up to the door to find a small envelope taped just under the handle, <em>Ms. Quinn</em> inscribed on the outside.<br><br>"What the hell.." she sighed, stepping away. It didn't take more than a few moments for Evelyn to locate the room allocated to her, discovering the key contained in the envelope along the way. At least she'd have the privacy she wanted, the woman thought, letting herself into the room and closed the door behind her. Inside the room, more surprises awaited the blonde as she found a full wardrobe with clothes in her size. "Yep, not creepy at all.." she murmured, picking up one of the many garments to get a closer look.<br><br>A laptop and other little creature comforts were also provided, and once Evelyn was done checking out most of what the room had to offer she left the space, making sure to lock the door behind her before making her way to the armory. As David had expected, there were tasers among the myriad number of weapons. Helping herself to one, the blonde also decided to pick up some pepper spray and an expandable baton, all items that would not look <em>too</em> out of place in a woman's purse. Then, almost as an afterthought Evelyn decided to take a pistol as well, figuring it was better to be prepared than not. She chose a Beretta identical to the one she had trained with in the military, tucking it safely into the pocket of her coat.<br><br>With nothing else to occupy herself with for the time being, Evelyn made to leave the armory with her items,her thoughts already turning to what she would do next. The woman remembered seeing the well-furnished gym on the way in, and since her new employers had so graciously decided to provide her with nearly everything she could possibly needed, it seemed an attractive option to take her mind off a morning that had been a little overwhelming, and frustrating at the same time.<br><br><br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: November Cell main game thread</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>GnothiSeauton</strong> on <strong>10-04-2016, 03:43:50</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatright">(http://i.imgur.com/mDV66ep.jpg)</div><strong>Character:</strong>&nbsp; Oscar Valdez<br><strong>Location/Time:</strong>&nbsp; Before 1000 Hours.&nbsp; 63 Wall Street, New York, New York.&nbsp; Penthouse.&nbsp; Conference Room ---&gt;&nbsp; Kitchen ---&gt;&nbsp; Armory<br><strong>Attire:</strong>&nbsp; Blue-grey business jacket and slacks.&nbsp; White dress shirt.&nbsp; Black shoes.&nbsp; Black sunglasses.<br><strong>Tagged:</strong>&nbsp; Everyone in the room mentioned.&nbsp; Interacting with Rose, Oestreicher.&nbsp; Open to all.<br><br><hr><br><em>Did I walk into a gay porno shoot?</em> Oscar asked himself.&nbsp; <em>I'm surrounded by a bunch of stiffs.</em><br><br>Given how warm and friendly everyone seemed, there was a certain odd-man-out feeling going through his mind as he sat and listened to everyone speak.&nbsp; It had seemed almost everyone there was affiliated with military or some sort of law enforcement.&nbsp; Danika had seemed the exception to that, blowing bubbles with gum and doing little origami to pass time.&nbsp; But hackers were often their own little entity, independents who were more connected to their computers than any sort of organization or group.<br><br>It made him wonder just how many had pulled the trigger and killed someone in their past.&nbsp; To be military, it was one thing, if any of them had seen combat.&nbsp; Killing someone in the heat of battle, ending the life of someone who wants to kill you.&nbsp; How many of them were like him?&nbsp; How many killed for something beyond duty to country or in the line of duty on the streets?&nbsp; How many had killed for simply some cold, hard cash?&nbsp; <br><br>The fact that many of them seemed uncomfortable with an outright kill was telling.&nbsp; Sure, he could see the merits of going in and taking care of business first.&nbsp; It would only be more difficult to say the least, adding a headache to what was already going to be a challenge in “eliminating the target” in a Manhattan hotel.&nbsp; Instead of something clean and quick, there were now other considerations to be made.&nbsp; An ex-filtration with either an uncooperative or unconscious target, not even counting what all they'd have to snatch and grab in the room.<br><br>It seemed the only thing being killed any time soon was his vibe.&nbsp; No easy-peasy job, followed by mai-tais and hookers after-party, it seemed.<br><br>His way would have been simple.&nbsp; A silencer on a pistol.&nbsp; A little investigating and cleaning up.&nbsp; And a sexy little Gandalf working their magic on the computer.&nbsp; Now, with the change of plans, with all of the considerations to be taken in, he was reminded why he liked avoiding government contracts.&nbsp; <br><br>Everything had to be nice and tidy.&nbsp; Done just the way they wanted it, often trying to put their own into the operation just to ensure that.&nbsp; Other employers only cared that you got the job done.&nbsp; Sometimes in a certain way, to send a message.&nbsp; But other than that, there was freedom in the job.&nbsp; Liberty to select how the job got done/&nbsp; Not like with the feds.<br><br>“Whatever you say.&nbsp; I'll call ya whatever you want.” Oscar said to David, reaching into the inside pocket of his coat for a small pad and pen.&nbsp; <br><br>Time for a little shopping, he thought, clicking the pen into action before trying to figure out a plan.<br><br>Going in easy and just walking out was not going to be something so simple.&nbsp; Adding an unconscious target, and who-knew-what in terms of packages from the room made that clear.&nbsp; They couldn't just walk out of the place without drawing attention, running the risk of getting caught.&nbsp; A Weekend at Bernie's type of excuse could be used, sure.&nbsp; But with a tough, no-nonsense type like Temple, if she came along, would only make that difficult to successfully pull off.&nbsp; With time, they might have been able to pull off some sort of elaborate ruse.&nbsp; Costumes.&nbsp; Props.&nbsp; Even a sort of dry-run for practice.&nbsp; The whole nine yards.&nbsp; <br><br>Instead, he was stuck working with only a few hours warning, with a group he had zero experience working with, zero knowledge about who they were, and their personality.<br><br><em>I wonder if I could slip away, find some hookers, and enjoy my last few hours of freedom before this whole thing fails...</em> He thought to himself.&nbsp; <em>I'm either dead or back in prison.</em><br><br>Option One, he wrote across the top of the small page.&nbsp; It included having a small team, two or three, to enter the hotel, scout out security, and move in on the target.&nbsp; Get Alpha unconscious, clean out the room, hit the fire-alarm, and move out in the chaos into a waiting car.&nbsp; It didn't seem like a bad idea, perhaps the cheapest.&nbsp; Potential problems with the crowds in the hotel, but easiest to blend in and move.<br><br>The page was ripped off, placed aside, before he went to another page.&nbsp; Option Two.&nbsp; It was not unlike the first option.&nbsp; The second option, however, did away with the fire alarm and awaiting car, instead choosing to make use of the helipad on the roof of the hotel.&nbsp; It might be costly, and he had no idea what there was in the group in terms of a pilot, but provided a very quick and easy way out of the place if their hacker could keep up with the F.A.A. and make sure they don't run into difficulties.<br><br>There were more options, more ideas running around in his mind, but given the time restrictions...&nbsp; <br><br>Oscar clicked his pen, shoving it back into his jacket pocket, along with his notes.&nbsp; The box with his name and items had been scooped up into his arm, a free hand reaching for the glass that contained the remnants of his morning orange juice.<br><br>“Well, ladies, it's time to go see what Santy-Clause brought us.” He thought out loud, before departing the conference room.<br><br>He made a pit stop, depositing his box upon the table of the kitchen before refreshing his glass of juice.&nbsp; Oscar had begun to make his way through the loft, pausing here and there to examine some of the rooms.&nbsp; Soon he came to what appeared to be the armory, and one of his...&nbsp; Associates?&nbsp; Team Members?&nbsp; New BFF? Whatever the term was, she seemed to be getting ready to leave the room.<br><br>“Ms. Rose.” Oscar said, giving her a deep, outlandish bow, before his eyes caught sight of the room behind her.<br><br>Oscar straightened up, looking into the room with an odd sense of glee in his eyes.&nbsp; “<em>It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas...</em>” He sang gently as he took a step into the room of various weaponry and firearms.<br><br>A low whistle of awe escaped his lips as he looked around.&nbsp; Good stuff.&nbsp; New stuff.&nbsp; A hand went to one of the rifles upon the wall, running his hand over the stock of the high-powered killing machine.&nbsp; <em>I think I found my favorite room...</em>&nbsp; No flame thrower though, he thought with an internal frown.&nbsp; He doubted he'd need such a thing.&nbsp; But when in Rome...&nbsp; It was definitely going on the Shopping List.<br><br>“Not bad.” He murmured to himself.&nbsp; “Not bad at all.”
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: November Cell main game thread</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>MistressofPen</strong> on <strong>11-04-2016, 06:31:59</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatright">(http://i1133.photobucket.com/albums/m592/MistressofPen/Steph01.jpg) </div><strong>Character:</strong> Stephanie Kane<br><strong>Location/Time:</strong> 63 Wall Street, Conf. Room, hall, outside/1000 hrs.<br><strong>Attire:</strong> Jeans, boots, sweater, scarf, leather jacket.<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Anyone in the room or hallway.<br><hr><br>Stephanie picked up the parts of her cell phone, curious about why the girl had taken the battery out; smartphones had enough capacitors in them to juice background data.&nbsp; Beyond that, why not try to figure out what the little insect was?&nbsp; Maybe this was one of those times when her curiosity should not be allowed to run rampant...&nbsp; She went back to her seat, shoving the phone parts into her jacket pocket.<br><br>She opened the box and pulled out a new phone, grinning wryly.&nbsp; She powered it up and shoved it in a free pocket.&nbsp; From the envelope, she slid out a new ID, passport and VISA; her face with a different name.&nbsp; Cool.&nbsp; She put the items into the inner pocket of her jacket and then stood up once more, picking up her notebook.<br><br>She felt the need to go to the library and do a bit more research.&nbsp; While she’d been to the Peninsula once, up to the roof for drinks at the bar and terrace, she didn’t remember exactly how it was set.&nbsp; A courtyard, in the center of a U or C shaped structure, she thought…&nbsp; Well, a little detour past the hotel might be in order, too. <br><br>She watched people leave the room as if they had all the time in the world.&nbsp; Stephanie felt a sense of urgency to gather information.&nbsp; <br><br>IR LED lights, she thought, beginning to make lists in her head.&nbsp; Caps, but only if they extracted the target.&nbsp; Being outside the visible spectrum IR lights wouldn’t show up to humans, but they blew out security cameras.&nbsp; Clip a couple to your cap’s visor and your head turned into a ball of light on video cameras.&nbsp; <br><br>Was it simplistic of her to think that it would be nice to just pilfer a maid’s uniform?&nbsp; Slip in, zap the professor and trundle him out with the dirty towels in a laundry cart.&nbsp; That would require knowing housekeeping’s routine and they didn’t have that much time.<br><br>Oh…crap…there wasn’t any parking by the hotel that she could recall.&nbsp; She’d arrived in a taxi, and was pretty much dumped on the street in front of the hotel.&nbsp; Stephanie looked around, hoping others were coming up with ideas as opposed to barriers.&nbsp; This was a logistical nightmare.&nbsp; Not even including figuring out where he had all the copies of his formula.&nbsp; She swallowed hard, acid roiling in her stomach.&nbsp; <br><br>Six miles there.&nbsp; Six miles back here.&nbsp; But, would they return here?&nbsp; Would they need a room at another hotel…a less posh hotel? <br><br>“Anyone want to go to the library?” she called, heading for the apartment's front door.&nbsp; Seeing the hotel, the route there, maybe things would settle in her head.&nbsp; Maybe she'd keep riding and call it a day.&nbsp; The phone in her pocket drew her back to reality.&nbsp; She had a leash and she'd be a good doggie...until it didn't suit her anymore.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: November Cell main game thread</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Kokaine</strong> on <strong>12-04-2016, 19:23:59</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatright">(http://data.whicdn.com/images/12108300/large.jpg)</div><strong>Character:</strong> Danika Quinn<br><strong>Location | Time:</strong> 63 Wall Street, New York, Penthouse. | Sometime after 1000 hours<br><strong>Attire:</strong> Cropped blk &amp; wht varsity jacket &amp; red hoodie, blk beater, pale jeans, blk sneakers, mis-matched multi-color socks, blk beanie<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Open<br><hr>Danika blinked but was hardly surprised as the woman, Kane, took her phone and turned away like she hadn't said a single thing. Taking it at face value she assumed the woman had expected her to do something fancy on the spot like some kind of performing monkey. Which Dani was not. <br><br><em>Whatever. Its on her now.</em> The Vegas native rolled her eyes and blew another bubble, pushing that from her mind and lingering for all the time it took for her to decide she needed to see if they'd even given her anything to work with or whether they expected her to sit there and pull a rig together from scratch. If they really wanted her to get to whoever was running this little club here would have found a way to clear her home setup from evidence and had it sent here but she knew that was likely not the case, not with the shit she'd managed to dredge up. Of course, there was also her laptop. If that was at least sent up she could be up and running quickly but again she got the feeling that whoever was in charge wasn't really doing them any favors. <br><br>Everyone had already left the room by the time Danika scooped up her envelope and the box containing her new phone. She was almost sure in addition to tracking software there'd be additional hardware inside the device. They'd want to keep tabs on their investments after all. Her dilemma was how much she wanted them to be able to track her. She didn't much care for being told to toe the line or being looked after like a child but she was just practical enough to know there was a flip side to this. If some shit went down wrong, did she want them to be able to find her?<br><br>Her decision wasn't as difficult as it probably should have been. She might not have known everything about this initiative--which would change--but she knew enough. Enough to know that if she got screwed there wouldn't be a damn cavalry. She was nothing more than an <em>expendable asset</em> after all. The so called team had already shown they were in it for their own motivations and that was it. So Dani would look out for numero uno as she'd been doing all her life.<br><br>Dani was all business as she pulled out her own phone, jacked in her headphones, and replaced her beanie. Still chewing the sugary grape bubble gum she walked to the front door. However, rather than leave the place, Dani turned and began to walk the penthouse. Her head bobbed along to the hip hop pumping into her ears loud enough that she'd probably be deaf by 40 and she tuned out the other bodies moving around in favor of focusing on the layout, the details, her fingers hanging down and tapping against her thigh as she first moved through the foyer and living room.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: November Cell main game thread</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Praxis</strong> on <strong>17-04-2016, 21:35:53</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatright">(https://pbs.twimg.com/media/B_GMAd6U0AEOiMR.jpg)</div><strong>Character:</strong> <strong>David Oestreicher</strong> (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=246835.msg12206090#msg12206090)<br><strong>Location/Time:</strong> 09:23, 63 Wall Street, New York, Penthouse.<br><strong>Attire:</strong> Moderately priced, impeccably cared for suit; very polished dress shoes<br><strong>Tagged:</strong>Detective Temple - Everyone in the next room - Everyone passing through<br><hr><br>This wasn't going to be fun...or easy.&nbsp; <br><br><em>How do I get someone on side who clearly doesn't want to be on side? Particularly so when there is no chain of command?</em><br><br>He had turned when he heard footsteps and took note of Detective Temple arriving. He gave her another quick, sharp nod and spoke in a low, even tone. <strong> "Good.&nbsp; Let's talk about your role here and what you can do."<br></strong>&nbsp; He had finished speaking and Detective Temple had already walked past without a word and slipped out the door.&nbsp; He let out a low, ragged sigh as the door clicked shut.&nbsp; A hand was raised and he pinched at the bridge of his nose for a moment, trying to quell the swirl of pain that told him a headache was coming as well as the swirl of thoughts about the operation.<br><br><em>Great.&nbsp; So she's either left the team and knows everything about the op, where we are based out of as well as out faces and names.&nbsp; Or...she's just gone to go kill the guy like she wanted to do.</em><br><br>He opened the phone he had just been given and looked through the small list of contacts there.&nbsp; He selected the one titled <strong>"O.I."</strong> as he suspected it was the one he needed.&nbsp; While he assumed that the penthouse was under surveillance and everything they were saying was being listened to; he still felt the need to report it.<br><br>The phone was picked up after one ring.<br><br><strong>"It's Oestreicher.<br>.<br>.<br>.<br>Yes.<br>.<br>.<br>.<br>Yes.<br>.<br>.<br>.<br>Operational security is compromised.<br>.<br>.<br>.<br>Temple.<br>.<br>.<br>.<br>She knows everything and she might be moving on the target.<br>.<br>.<br>.<br>Yes.<br>.<br>.<br>.<br>We'll proceed as planned and abort if we receive word from you."</strong><br><br>He ended the call and as he did he took note of Kane making her way towards the door as well but at least she still seemed to be part of the team.&nbsp; Quinn had appeared as well and she seemed focused on checking out the place before doing any real work but he figured at this level; just because it wasn't obvious, it certainly didn't mean that they weren't working out the op. in their head.<br><br>He would need to touch base with each of the remaining members of the team but first...<br><br>He slipped the phone given to him into the breast pocket of his jacket only to withdraw his phone.&nbsp; Finding the contact he needed before lifting the phone to his ear.<br><br><strong>"Terri...ha, yes.&nbsp; <br><br>Yeah.&nbsp; <br><br>Yeah.&nbsp; <br><br>You bet it is.<br><br>I have a question.<br><br>Are you still looking for test cases for your sub-vocal comms?<br><br>Yeah.<br><br>Yeah.<br><br>Five sets and a hub.<br><br>Yeah.<br><br>Can't say.<br><br>No.<br><br>No it's new.<br><br>Well you know how it is.&nbsp; Stay busy right?<br><br>No but I'll get back to you with an address.<br><br>Yeah.<br><br>Flesh tone pads...this needs to be low profile.<br><br>Thanks Terri.<br><br>Yeah well we'll see.&nbsp; After the job yes?"</strong><br><br>He slipped his phone into the front pocket of his trousers and turned slowly to take an assessment of the situation.&nbsp; Kane seemed to be on her way out.&nbsp; He could touch base with her later.&nbsp; Valdez and Rose were in the other room and that left Quinn.<br><br>With Temple out...or possibly turning this into a cluster-fuck, they were down one and that meant Quinn might be needed to do a little more than just handle the computer-side of things.&nbsp; He drew a bit closer to her but kept his distance so as not to unsettle her and simply waited for her to turn enough that he would enter her line of sight.&nbsp; He offered her a small smile and reached up with one finger to tap his earlobe as a sign that he hoped she would take as to turn off her music so they could speak.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: November Cell main game thread</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Lyndsey</strong> on <strong>18-04-2016, 08:03:07</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<br><div class="floatright">(http://i64.tinypic.com/f34z09.jpg)</div><strong>Character:</strong>&nbsp; <strong>Evelyn Rose</strong> (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=246835.msg12204159#msg12204159)<br><strong>Location/Time:</strong> 1040, 63 Wall Street, New York, Penthouse - gym.<br><strong>Attire:</strong> Black tank top and shorts, purple running shoes.<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Stephanie, anyone in the gym.<br><br><hr><br>Evelyn had rolled her eyes at Oscar's exaggerated bow. Initially intending to ignore the man on her way out of the armory, she caught the look on his face when he fixated on the space that she had just left. "Try not to&nbsp; clean it all out," she quipped, making her way back to her room. <br><br>Back in her personal space, the woman put the items she had gathered earlier away before proceeding to pace the room for a moment or two, coming to a stop by a window. Breathing out a sigh, Evelyn watched the people mill about on the street below. The morning seemed to be getting into full swing, and there was plenty to look at, from the wall-street types in blazers intent on blurring the lines between a walking and jogging to the street food hurriedly trying to whittle down the line in front of his cart.<br><br>The amount of activity on the bustling street only served to remind Evelyn that she was stuck in an apartment, albeit a very nice one with a bunch of strangers and time on her hands. The thought spurred her into action, and she turned to rummage through the wardrobe for a quick change of clothes, emerging from the room a few minutes later dressed for a hard workout.<br><br><em>"Anyone want to go to&nbsp; the library?"</em><br><br>Evelyn lifted her gaze towards the door as she stepped out of her room. It looked like another member of their so-called team was on her way out, following the detective's abrupt departure earlier. This one however, didn't look anywhere near as hostile or final. "I'm good, you go ahead. Books aren't really my thing." Evelyn said, flashing the blonde by the door&nbsp; a small smile. As far as first impressions went, Kane did not seem like she belonged in a job like this, snuffing someone out and preventing deadly information from falling into the wrong hands. Then again, the same thing could probably be said about herself, and Evelyn couldn't even begin to fathom what her new colleagues might think of her so far.<br><br>Making her way into the gym, Evelyn was pleased to find it well-equipped with just about everything one could want from such a space.Putting on her headphones, the woman started off with a brisk run on the treadmill to warm up, before proceeding to turn her attention to the heavy punching bag that hung from the ceiling, putting the training she had received from the various self-defence classes she had taken upon herself to attend into practice. Working out her frustrations from the morning in a flurry of punches, elbows and knees, the blonde huffed and puffed as she landed the blows, working up a decent sweat at the same time.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: November Cell main game thread</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>GnothiSeauton</strong> on <strong>20-04-2016, 21:25:11</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<br><div class="floatright">(http://i.imgur.com/mDV66ep.jpg)</div><strong>Character:</strong>&nbsp; Oscar Valdez<br><strong>Location/Time:</strong>&nbsp; Before 1100 Hours.&nbsp; 63 Wall Street, New York, New York.&nbsp; Penthouse. Armory ---&gt; Kitchen<br><strong>Attire:</strong>&nbsp; Blue-grey business jacket and slacks.&nbsp; White dress shirt.&nbsp; Black shoes.&nbsp; Black sunglasses.<br><strong>Tagged:</strong>&nbsp; Open to all.<br><br><hr><br>"I'll do my best to save something for the rest of ya." Oscar commented. <br><br>Everyone seemed so uptight, so rigid and stiff.&nbsp; Stern, keeping to themselves and the matter at hand.&nbsp; <br><br>It could have been just jitters.&nbsp; Oscar knew himself the nervous fluttering of butterflies in his stomach before an operation.&nbsp; It was hard to not feel such a way, when your mind runs through the different variables, the various scenarios, thinking of every little thing that could go wrong in such an easy way.&nbsp; Maybe they were all nervous, anxious about such an operation so soon after meeting and coming together.<br><br>That's what Oscar hoped for, at least.&nbsp; Working with a bunch of stiffs proved to be so dull sometimes.&nbsp; <em>If I had a flame thrower, we could liven this party up a bit.</em> He thought to himself.&nbsp; Everyone loves a flame thrower.<br><br>But, getting the sense from the others...&nbsp; If he were to come marching out of the armory with a flame thrower and a few punching dummies from the gym, asking for directions to the roof, they were all likely to have him snatched up by some men with black cloth masks.&nbsp; He wasn't in any rush to trade his penthouse digs for a lovely, tropical cell in Guantanamo.&nbsp; <br><br><em>Get to work, before one of them tattles on you...</em> He told himself, forcing himself to focus on the op at hand.<br><br>The Armor seemed to have just about everything he could need for the operation.&nbsp; Along with the fine selection of handguns, there were more than a few silencers that seemed to fit just about anything he could find.&nbsp; After looking around, admiring some of the pieces and tech that had been brought in, a decent collection of syringes containing a variety of chemical compounds was discovered.&nbsp; Everything from poison, to truth serum, and high power sedatives.<br><br>“Not bad.” Oscar thought, though a tad disappointed to not find any old LSD hidden away.&nbsp; “Not bad at all.”<br><br>It seemed as if everything he would need was there, laid out for his perusal and disposal.&nbsp; All around him, there seemed to be more than enough hardware and ammo to take over a small country.&nbsp; All except a flame thrower...<br><br>That was the first item on the list.&nbsp; As he stood in the armory for a few moments, Oscar began to scribble away at his little notepad, taking notes of the various items he would need.&nbsp; Most of it wasn't for the op at hand.&nbsp; A simple wish list of items he'd like, if he didn't get killed, or sent back for another long term prison stay.&nbsp; <em>Flame thrower...&nbsp; Vodka, the good shit...&nbsp; Frozen stuffed crust pizza...&nbsp; Basil, thyme, sage, rosemary, all fresh...</em> And so on and so on, until his shopping list resembled a quite literal grocery list than anything else.<br><br>But there was more to be added to the notebook...&nbsp; Oscar walked around the armory, seemingly inspecting the various weaponry on hand, occasionally making a note here and there, as if writing down modifications that would be needed.&nbsp; Instead, the simple ruse was to cover his tracks, make him look like he was doing something productive, other than writing down the names of all of his “compatriots” and everything he could remember about the entirety of the little cool club he found himself a member of, as well as their mission at hand.<br><br>A simple insurance policy, something to keep fresh in his mind an to do more research on, should he ever need to ensure some mutually assured destruction.<br><br>From what he had heard, the discussion after the little breakdown of their night's objective, it seemed as if there were some mutual distrust among the Angels about good ole Charlie.&nbsp; He certainly shared in their thoughts, but his own discomfort went to those around him as well.&nbsp; There was no telling who those people were, no telling what sort of people they were.&nbsp; So far, they all seemed a bit stiff and guarded.&nbsp; Uneasy about the whole situation.&nbsp; A part of him felt that way too, he supposed.<br><br>But Oscar liked knowing who his new BFFs were, especially when running operations.&nbsp; It was a matter of comfort, knowing the people he was working with, knowing their personality, their tendencies, what made them tick, what made them happy.&nbsp; Such knowledge was often the difference between success and failure.<br><br>Dinner, maybe?<br><br>After leaving the Armory, Oscar made his way back to the kitchen.&nbsp; His blazer removed, folded away upon a chair, the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up as he turned his attention to the fridge and variety of cabinets.&nbsp; Maybe a good dinner, before or after, would break the ice a bit, get them talking about things unrelated to the mission.&nbsp; <br><br><em>If only the CIA still believed in LSD...</em> He thought with a tinge of disappointment towards the armory as he began to pull some ingredients out and laid them on the counter.&nbsp; <em>Now</em> that <em>would make dinner interesting...</em>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: November Cell main game thread</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>MistressofPen</strong> on <strong>23-04-2016, 07:29:29</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatright">(http://i1133.photobucket.com/albums/m592/MistressofPen/Steph01.jpg) </div><strong>Character:</strong> Stephanie Kane<br><strong>Location/Time:</strong> Reconnaissance/Research-The library, DOB, The Peninsula/ 1000-1230 <br><strong>Attire:</strong> Jeans, boots, sweater, scarf, leather jacket.<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> <br><hr> <br>Stephanie gave a short nod to the negative response from the blonde.&nbsp; She drew the scarf from her pocket and wrapped it about her head as she headed out the door.&nbsp; Her guts were clenched from both fear and excitement.&nbsp; When Ian had taken her out to scout locations and choreograph what-could-happen’s, she’d been invigorated.&nbsp; Now, with a real goal and a real purpose, she felt the fire in her blood reignite.&nbsp; She could see the curiosity followed by dismissal in the eyes of her team members.&nbsp; All that did was add more coal to the fire.<br><br>The elevator took her down as gently as it had up.&nbsp; In a few minutes, she was back on the bike, helmet and gloves in place, jacket zipped; androgynous and hopefully unremarkable.<br><br>She went first past the Peninsula.&nbsp; The old building was gorgeous.&nbsp; &nbsp;Stephanie only stared as long as the traffic slowed.&nbsp; &nbsp;She didn’t want to draw attention, so she continued on to the library.<br><br>A perusal of the information about the Professor didn’t garner much more than her quick search earlier.&nbsp; She did find out his wife’s name and that she was last known to live in the city.&nbsp; She found a phone number and address and tucked those away.&nbsp; <br><br>Next, she looked for a book she recalled about Ciphers.&nbsp; Pulling it out she flipped through pages until she found the one with a picture of an insect.&nbsp; Cicada 3301.&nbsp; Unsolved.&nbsp; Internet mystery/cipher/puzzle.&nbsp; Thought to be a game initially, then thought to be a recruitment tool for the CIA, MI6, or NSA.&nbsp; Stephanie squinted at the picture.&nbsp; But, the image on her phone was not the same as the one used by this group.&nbsp; She slid the book back and tried for simple: Identify the bug.&nbsp; She put her phone back together and powered it up.&nbsp; All she could really say was that the insect was ugly.&nbsp; She picked up a little bug book and flipped through, finding the bug quickly; Firefly.<br><br>Well, now isn’t that helpful? Disgusted with herself for wasting time on such a foolish endeavor, Stephanie put the bug book back on the shelf and shut off the phone.&nbsp; She stood in the stacks, thinking.<br><br>Blinking, Stephanie moved haltingly towards the biography section and found a book on the good professor.&nbsp; Someone had scrawled some personal opinions in the book.&nbsp; But, what remained was not much about the man, more about his science and that was right over Stephanie’s head.&nbsp; However, there were a few people thanked in the foreward; Parents, wife, and his agent.&nbsp; Stephanie wrote down the name, put the book back and felt somewhat better about her choice of activities.<br><br>Next stop, the department of buildings.&nbsp; She left the headscarf in place and added a pair of low-power, black framed glasses.&nbsp; She didn’t know what exactly she’d have to do to get someone to give her copies of the plans, but, she wanted to be prepared for anything.&nbsp; Seeing a harried woman behind the counter, Stephanie’s plan changed from flirting to irritation.&nbsp; &nbsp;Stephanie tried to lecture the poor civil servant on the overlooked company of Hiss and Weeke, she couldn’t get the copies to her fast enough. It took a little wheedling, even a little begging.&nbsp; But, Stephanie managed to get copies of the Peninsula’s plans.&nbsp; She also got a copy of the plans for the Belnord Apartments, designed by the same architects as the Gotham/Peninsula.&nbsp; When Stephanie asked about any alterations to the Peninsula, the woman glared at her, but went off and brought forward the HVAC upgrades and a permit for electrical upgrades in the last five years.<br><br>Taking her booty, Stephanie left the DOB and headed back to the apartment.&nbsp; She glanced at her watch and growled under her breath. With nowhere to put the plans, Stephanie flattened the rolls and set them on the seat, sitting on them.&nbsp; One more pass by the Peninsula, around the block to have a look at the University Club behind it.&nbsp; Stephanie took back streets, getting stuck in a couple of one-way streets before making her way back to the hotel.&nbsp; But, now she knew the area and those errors wouldn’t be made again.&nbsp; She hoped Det. Temple didn’t get pissed because she got the plans.&nbsp; With a <em>fuck-it</em> shrug, Samantha parked the bike once more and headed up to the penthouse.&nbsp; <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: November Cell main game thread</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Kokaine</strong> on <strong>28-04-2016, 08:39:49</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatright">(http://data.whicdn.com/images/12108300/large.jpg)</div><strong>Character:</strong> Danika Quinn<br><strong>Location | Time:</strong> 63 Wall Street, New York, Penthouse. | Sometime after 1000 hours<br><strong>Attire:</strong> Cropped blk &amp; wht varsity jacket &amp; red hoodie, blk beater, pale jeans, blk sneakers, mis-matched multi-color socks, blk beanie<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> David | Open<br><hr>Dani was wasting time. Sure, she could probably have tried to spin it some way or another, call it multi-tasking or disguise it as a thinking process, but she knew good and well what she was and wasn't doing and wouldn't deny it if asked. Sure, she did like to know her surroundings as well as possible before she could even begin to get comfortable--knowing how to navigate quickly and what the best methods were to get the fuck out of dodge should that be necessary were important and call it paranoia if you wanted but she liked to know she wasn't trapped like a rat in a cage--but it was a flimsy excuse at best.<br><br>Truth was she was just becoming more and more worried about this whole little endeavor with each metaphorical tick of the clock. And not in a fun way either. Every step brought her further and further away from the acceptance she'd thought she'd managed to talk herself into and bit by bit, all her previous rationale began to twist in on itself or curl into flimsy scraps that blew away with only the slightest breath. She couldn't even see the challenge in this anymore, only dead ends. Not that she'd admit to any of that. No no. She'd rather fuck around and let people think whatever so long as it wasn't the truth. Which was why, she supposed, with each tap of her fingers, every nod of her head, her focus spiraled a little further away from the mission they'd been given and her assigned tasks toward that blank space in the back of her head. The space that was filled only with white noise. The space that let her block out all but the most terrible shit and operate on auto-pilot. <br><br>Perhaps then it was fortunate that her attention was requested. Well, fortunate at least where business was concerned anyhow.<br><br>In her quest to mentally mark off the dimensions of the space they were to inhabit she was approached by one of her "teammates". Scratch that. It was their leader himself, she corrected as she blinked up. Her face was back to that blank wall of 'I haven't a care in the world' vagueness as she came to a stop and eyed him. The details hadn't really changed from her first quick assessment of the man but for perhaps a little something in his demeanor she couldn't quite peg. <br><br>Curious, Dani pulled her ear buds free, letting the far too loud music fade into background noise as she held them in hand. Another bubble was blown and then popped as she finally cut the stream of sound with a careful press of her fingers against the inline controls. "What's up?" Dani asked, her voice light and almost perky as one corner of her mouth tugged upward in a slight smirk. "You need somethin' else, Oestreicher?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: November Cell main game thread</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>GnothiSeauton</strong> on <strong>30-04-2016, 02:26:43</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatright">(http://i.imgur.com/mDV66ep.jpg)</div><strong>Character:</strong>&nbsp; Oscar Valdez<br><strong>Location/Time:</strong>&nbsp; Around 1230 Hundred Hours.&nbsp; 63 Wall Street, New York, New York.&nbsp; Penthouse. Exterior.<br><strong>Attire:</strong>&nbsp; Blue-grey <del>business jacket and</del> slacks.&nbsp; White dress shirt, sleeves rolled up Black shoes.&nbsp; Black sunglasses.<br><strong>Tagged:</strong>&nbsp; Stephanie Kane<br><br><hr><br>There were a few two ways of looking at the night to come.&nbsp; <br><br>He could going to be killed, or arrested, after having one last chance at making his Mama's sauce.&nbsp; A thought that was oddly reassuring, in a sense.&nbsp; How he had wanted to cook in his little cell, how he craved to have one last taste of the old family recipe, had plagued him in his incarceration.&nbsp; At least he knew what could happen, what dangers and hazards were waiting.&nbsp; Before, he did not have such a chance to enjoy his freedom, to do the things he wanted to do, before being taken in.&nbsp; There was no better way to enjoy his last remaining hours of freedom than by cooking.<br><br>Well...&nbsp; There were a few ways which might have been quite appealing, he thought with a reminiscing of a certain club that lay a few blocks away from the Penthouse...<br><br>But if he wasn't going to get shot or killed by these weirdos, if he was going to make it out alive and free (or as free as one could get), then he had a big pot of sauce to kill in gluttonous revelry.&nbsp; <br><br>When it came to his cooking, it took time, care, and a certain sense of love and dedication.&nbsp; It wasn't unlike his line of work, he thought often when cooking.&nbsp; Out in the “field”, it took time, patience to find the right opportunity, the right moment, to strike.&nbsp; Sometimes it could be days, weeks, even months.&nbsp; It took patience to make everything perfect, patience that came from handling the operation with care, that came with dedication to making sure the mission was done, and done correctly.&nbsp; <br><br>It was what set him apart from low-level hitters and gang bangers.&nbsp; He took his time in waiting for his target.&nbsp; He took his patience in waiting and lining up the perfect shot.&nbsp; He didn't go in guns blazing, pow-pow-pow, bang-bang-bang,, etc.&nbsp; He invested himself in the operation, wanting it to be perfect, wanting it to be precise and undeniably beautiful in it's own way.&nbsp; It wasn't just about the paycheck.&nbsp; It was about making art.<br><br>Very much like the pot of sauce that was brewing in it's aromatic goodness.&nbsp; <br><br>He had slipped out of the Penthouse for a few minutes, had wandered down to a news stand nearby.&nbsp; A few celebrity gossip magazines, a moderate collection of snacks and candy, and a bottle of Pepsi were in his hands.&nbsp; He was starting towards the exterior entrance of the Penthouse building,his hand upon the handle of the door, when his eyes were snagged by the sight of the somewhat familiar individual making her way to the door.<br><br>“Well if it ain't Miss Sweet-as-a-Sugar Kane.” He greeted with a grin, opening the door to the building with one arm for her.&nbsp; “Pick me up any cool books to read?”
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: November Cell main game thread</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>MistressofPen</strong> on <strong>30-04-2016, 07:07:22</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatright">(http://i1133.photobucket.com/albums/m592/MistressofPen/Steph01.jpg) </div><strong>Character:</strong> Stephanie Kane<br><strong>Location/Time:</strong> Apartment Lobby/1230 <br><strong>Attire:</strong> Jeans, boots, sweater, scarf, leather jacket.<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Valdez<br><hr> <br>Head still swathed in her flowery scarf, Stephanie was surprised when Mr. Valdez addressed her.&nbsp; His play on words with her name elicited a small smile.&nbsp; She shifted the rolled plans, somewhat flattened by her sitting on them for the ride back to the apartment.&nbsp; <br><br>“If I knew what you liked to read, I’d have picked up something.&nbsp; But, as it is, no.&nbsp; Just the building and electrical plans to the hotel.”&nbsp; She entered the lobby and turned to wait for the man.&nbsp; “I’m an architecture student here for a couple days doing research,” she said, grinning and removing the scarf from her head to stuff it back into her jacket pocket.&nbsp; “By the way, I’m Stephanie…or Stevie.&nbsp; I kind of blew you off upstairs..”&nbsp; <br><br>Stephanie looked at the man.&nbsp; He’d made her nervous when she sat next to him.&nbsp; But, he seemed different.&nbsp; She glanced at the goodies he held and smiled back at him.&nbsp; Maybe that humanized him.&nbsp; “What’s that?” she asked of the magazines.&nbsp; Tilting her head, stepping beside him to read the cover of the top magazine.&nbsp; She looked at him once more, amused.&nbsp; “You’re going to get a ration of shit for those.&nbsp; Want me to carry them?” she asked.&nbsp; “Good grief…do you smell Italian food?” she asked.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: November Cell main game thread</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>GnothiSeauton</strong> on <strong>30-04-2016, 08:16:51</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatright">(http://i.imgur.com/mDV66ep.jpg)</div><strong>Character:</strong>&nbsp; Oscar Valdez<br><strong>Location/Time:</strong>&nbsp; Around 1230 Hundred Hours.&nbsp; 63 Wall Street, New York, New York.&nbsp; Penthouse (Kitchen)<br><strong>Attire:</strong>&nbsp; Blue-grey <del>business jacket and</del> slacks.&nbsp; White dress shirt, sleeves rolled up Black shoes.&nbsp; Black sunglasses.<br><strong>Tagged:</strong>&nbsp; Stephanie Kane<br><br><hr><br>“Food?&nbsp; I don't smell food at all.” Oscar replied in a serious tone of voice.&nbsp; “I smell a masterpiece.”<br><br>He nodded down to the bundle of goods and magazines in his arms.&nbsp; “And this, my dear Stevie, is what I like to call a mix of a dream come true, good luck charms, and my guide to getting caught up on most of the things I missed.” He said, pulling out one of the magazines from the collection he had gotten.&nbsp; “Like which Housewife from the Real Housewives is sleeping with whose husband and all of the baby drama.”<br><br>Oscar stepped inside the waiting elevator, putting a foot out in front of the door to keep it from closing.&nbsp; “And if I get shit for it, I get shit for it.” He said.&nbsp; “Maybe it will liven up the mood a bit.”<br><br>Once out of the elevator, and back inside the Penthouse, Oscar made his way back into the open kitchen.&nbsp; His goods were deposited upon the granite-topped island of the kitchen, the assorted pile of candy, soda, and gossip magazine dumped haphazardly upon the surface before he turned his attention back to the pot of sauce still simmering upon the stove.&nbsp; He stood over it, taking in a long inhale of the rich aroma that filled the kitchen.<br><br>“Hope you like real spaghetti, Miss Stevie.” Oscar announced as he gave the pot a good stir.<br><br>“If we make it out tonight, first thing I'm doing is investing in a spice garden.” He said.&nbsp; “No more chopped up, dried shit.&nbsp; I've wait two years for this, and I ain't going to cook again with that old, dried up shit in a tube.”
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: November Cell main game thread</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>MistressofPen</strong> on <strong>02-05-2016, 03:52:00</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatright">(http://i1133.photobucket.com/albums/m592/MistressofPen/Steph01.jpg) </div><strong>Character:</strong> Stephanie Kane<br><strong>Location/Time:</strong> Penthouse, 63 Wall Street, NYC, NY<br><strong>Attire:</strong> Jeans, boots, sweater,<del> scarf, leather jacket</del>.<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Valdez<br><hr><br>The elevator ride was as uneventful as the last time.&nbsp; Stephanie always felt that elevators were the perfect place for an ambush.&nbsp; Perhaps her imagination really did need to be put on hold.&nbsp; <br><br>Back inside the sanctuary, Stephanie paused by the kitchen as Oscar explained how things were as far as scents, and his plans for the future, should they live through the night.&nbsp; She watched him and hugged the roll of plans to her chest as she shrugged out of her jacket and piled it on the open counter beside her.&nbsp; She glanced around and then moved to drape her jacket over a chair and set the plans on the counter.&nbsp; Moving around the wall to the dining area, she noticed Oestreicher and Quinn in the living area.&nbsp; She gave them a quick look; they seemed to be talking, so she returned to the kitchen quickly.<br><br>“D’you think this is a fool’s mission?” she asked, speaking low.&nbsp; “Or, do you just think that they will eliminate us whether or not we are successful; you know, tie up loose ends?”&nbsp; Not thinking about what she was doing, Stephanie followed Valdez’ movements, moving to stand next to him when he stirred the big pot of sauce.&nbsp; It did smell heavenly and she inhaled the scent deeply.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: November Cell main game thread</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>GnothiSeauton</strong> on <strong>02-05-2016, 08:23:20</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatright">(http://i.imgur.com/mDV66ep.jpg)</div><strong>Character:</strong>&nbsp; Oscar Valdez<br><strong>Location/Time:</strong>&nbsp; Around 1230 Hundred Hours.&nbsp; 63 Wall Street, New York, New York.&nbsp; Penthouse (Kitchen)<br><strong>Attire:</strong>&nbsp; Blue-grey <del>business jacket and</del> slacks.&nbsp; White dress shirt, sleeves rolled up Black shoes.&nbsp; Black sunglasses.<br><strong>Tagged:</strong>&nbsp; Stephanie Kane<br><br><hr><br>The fact Kane spoke softly, had looked off in the direction of others, spoke volumes in his mind.&nbsp; Perhaps she was having second doubt like he had.&nbsp; Perhaps she was coming to terms with the unspoken consequences, the dreadful possible outcomes that waited behind Door Number Two.<br><br>“Well.&nbsp; Speaking as a former loose end, I wouldn't put it past them to get rid of a few loose ends if the shit hits the fan and things start looking bleak about the whole thing.” Oscar commented, giving the pot another stir before bringing the wooden spoon to his lips to taste.&nbsp; He smacked his lips, giving a sage nod before taking an opened bottle of red wine to add a splash to the sauce.<br><br>“I wouldn't be surprised if they had a whole team on standby, just waiting to off us if things go south.” He commented, stirring in the little amount of red wine into the aromatic concoction.&nbsp; “Hell, I don't doubt there's someone watching me.&nbsp; Probably made someone shit their pants just by walking out of the building without someone holding my leash.”<br><br>The thought of Oestricher crossed his mind.&nbsp; “I don't doubt someone here has a bullet with my name on it if things turn really nasty.”<br><br>Oscar spoke freely, not bothering to lower his voice to a whisper.&nbsp; There was little doubt in his mind that <em>someone</em> was listening to them.&nbsp; “As for this mission...&nbsp; Who knows....&nbsp; Going to be crazy with a bunch of people not knowing one another walking into a rodeo together.”<br><br>Again he moved in the kitchen, reaching into a cabinet for the container of sugar.&nbsp; A generous pinch was added into the sauce, and promptly stirred in.&nbsp; “But...&nbsp; If you're worried this might be your last few hours breathing...&nbsp; I'll be a gentleman and offer to take you into one of the bedrooms and rock your world one last time.” He commented, turning his head to offer a playful wink.&nbsp; “Might as well go out with a bang, ammiright?”
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: November Cell main game thread</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>MistressofPen</strong> on <strong>03-05-2016, 04:26:14</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatright">(http://i1133.photobucket.com/albums/m592/MistressofPen/Steph01.jpg) </div><strong>Character:</strong> Stephanie Kane<br><strong>Location/Time:</strong> Penthouse Kitchen, 63 Wall Street, NYC, NY<br><strong>Attire:</strong> Jeans, boots, sweater, <del>scarf, leather jacket</del>.<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Valdez<br><hr><br>She had half hoped he’d go easy, tell a lie that all would be fine and they were the next in a long line of super secret cells that operated at the fringe of the law to take care of things that no one ever knew a whisper about.&nbsp; Poof!&nbsp; That little dream thought went away.&nbsp; She moved to the sink to wash her hands and idly dried them with paper towel, staring out the window at absolutely nothing.<br><br>Her last few stories had been about such a super secret cell.&nbsp; Of course, she’d made hers international.&nbsp; And, the editor had knocked them out of the sky, turning them into nothing more than romance novels that Stephanie burned.&nbsp; Was that really why she was here?&nbsp; Had she hit too close to home and they wanted to keep watch, rein her in and then, to use a really good word from a TV show from the 80’s, cancel her?&nbsp; Lovely thoughts.<br><br>Oscar was speaking again as he fiddled with his damned sauce.&nbsp; Stephanie leaned against the edge of the counter as he spoke, unable to contain a smile at his absolute nonsense.<br><br>“Really?&nbsp; THAT’s how you want to play it?&nbsp; Just a straight up offer of sex?&nbsp; Come on, Oscar, let’s not be cliché,” she said, throwing away the towels.&nbsp; She no longer was worried who heard what, or if she and Oscar interrupted the discussion in the living room.&nbsp; “Maybe instead, after we have a successful mission, we assemble at some other location and just have an orgy till dawn.&nbsp; All of us,” she said with a lift of her eyebrows, and a little smile.&nbsp; “ We’ll have to put the professor in the closet if he isn’t already on ice…”&nbsp; she continued.&nbsp; “De classe to include the target, don’t you think.&nbsp; And, well, we’re all a little outside his age range.&nbsp; Though, the girls he went for, weren’t little kids.&nbsp; I think they threw out that pedophile comment to get our blood up.”<br><br>Stephanie smiled at Oscar, realizing she went from suggesting group sex to discussing a possible dead professor and his past habits.&nbsp; Times, they are a changing, she thought.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: November Cell main game thread</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>GnothiSeauton</strong> on <strong>03-05-2016, 05:16:35</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatright">(http://i.imgur.com/mDV66ep.jpg)</div><strong>Character:</strong>&nbsp; Oscar Valdez<br><strong>Location/Time:</strong>&nbsp; Around 1230 Hundred Hours.&nbsp; 63 Wall Street, New York, New York.&nbsp; Penthouse (Kitchen)<br><strong>Attire:</strong>&nbsp; Blue-grey <del>business jacket and</del> slacks.&nbsp; White dress shirt, sleeves rolled up Black shoes.&nbsp; Black sunglasses.<br><strong>Tagged:</strong>&nbsp; Stephanie Kane<br><br><hr><br>Oscar waited for Stephanie to finish, silently listening to what she had to say with an occasional nod of his head.&nbsp; She was nervous, he thought.&nbsp; Hell, he was too, if he was being a bit honest.&nbsp; When it came to getting close to showtime, the nerves and anxiety always intensified a bit as the mind ran through the various possibilities.<br><br>“I'm just being a gentleman, Miss Stevie...&nbsp; A gentleman whose only interactions with the fairer sex was with a big, snaggle-toothed guard who liked to spit in my food.” Oscar commented.&nbsp; He took a step closer, his voice lowering a moment.&nbsp; “But seriously...&nbsp; You really think they'd go for an orgy?&nbsp; I mean, if you're taking a straw poll, sign me up right now.” Oscar commented with a hushed, serious tone that soon gave way to a grin as he took a raised a spoonful of sauce from the pot.&nbsp; “Only half kidding though...&nbsp; Just tell me when and where.”<br><br>A few blows from his lips to cool it down.&nbsp; “They might have been lying about that.&nbsp; They might have been lying about a bunch of things about the mission.” He said, leaning against the counter.&nbsp; “For all we know, this could just be a test run.&nbsp; See how we do, if we're worth having around.&nbsp; I know of a few outfits that like to do that from time to time...&nbsp; Test the response of the team.&nbsp; See how they do, see how they work together.&nbsp; Go from there.”<br><br>He held the spoon out to her, an offer to taste his creation.&nbsp; “Don't worry about it though...&nbsp; They might not kill us.”
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: November Cell main game thread</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>MistressofPen</strong> on <strong>06-05-2016, 06:10:50</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatright">(http://i1133.photobucket.com/albums/m592/MistressofPen/Steph01.jpg) </div><strong>Character:</strong> Stephanie Kane<br><strong>Location/Time:</strong> Penthouse Kitchen, 63 Wall Street, NYC, NY/1230<br><strong>Attire:</strong> Jeans, boots, sweater, scarf, leather jacket.<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Valdez<br><hr><br>She smiled, looking down so he wouldn't see as he made his outrageous comments.&nbsp; She wasn't one to back down from a challenge and that seemed to be what they were doing to each other.&nbsp; "I'll keep that in mind.&nbsp; If we make it out, unharmed, I'll take that poll."&nbsp; She glanced up at him, then.<br><br>Stephanie reminded herself that everything he said indicated he'd been in prison...recently.&nbsp; She reminded herself that they were there to do a really risky job and that even though they were making light of the job, it was deadly serious.&nbsp; And, then she winked at the man.<br><br>The sauce took his attention once more and she turned away to lean a hip against the counter, crossing her arms in front of her chest.&nbsp; Her attention strayed from the man to the plans and she sighed.&nbsp; The electrical plans with the updates on the security measures the hotel had taken had caught her attention.&nbsp; Of course, they'd gone modern and had cameras with their own infrared lighting; they wouldn't be fooled by people wearing IR headlamps.<br><br>When Oscar held out the spoon, Stephanie leaned forward to take the sip.&nbsp; She gasped and looked at him again.&nbsp; "Holy crap!&nbsp; You really can cook!&nbsp; You'll make someone a great wife one day," she teased, a little surprised at herself for being so comfortable with him.&nbsp; But, her initial distrust had gone the way of the cuckoo and she rather hoped that they assigned her to assist him...back-up, look-out...distraction to others with guns so he didn't get shot....wait, wasn't that called bait?<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: November Cell main game thread</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>GnothiSeauton</strong> on <strong>09-05-2016, 05:49:51</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatright">(http://i.imgur.com/mDV66ep.jpg)</div><strong>Character:</strong>&nbsp; Oscar Valdez<br><strong>Location/Time:</strong>&nbsp; Around 1230 Hundred Hours.&nbsp; 63 Wall Street, New York, New York.&nbsp; Penthouse (Kitchen)<br><strong>Attire:</strong>&nbsp; Blue-grey <del>business jacket and</del> slacks.&nbsp; White dress shirt, sleeves rolled up Black shoes.&nbsp; Black sunglasses.<br><strong>Tagged:</strong>&nbsp; Stephanie Kane<br><br><hr><br>“A gal like me can hope so, Stevie, my dear.” He shot back with a sly grin as he turned back to the pot.&nbsp; <br><br>Another few stirs, and the lid was replaced over the pot, with it's heat set to low to simmer.&nbsp; How morbid it felt, to consider that he might be cooking his last meal.&nbsp; If it was indeed going to be the last thing on his plate and mind before kicking the bucket, well, there were worst things to be feasting on when the bells would begin to toll.<br><br>Oscar's attention turned to the treasure trove of goods procured from the street.&nbsp; “So...&nbsp; Find anything good out there on your little field trip to the library?” He asked, taking a seat down at the island of the kitchen before opening a candy bar, and flipping through one of the celebrity news magazines.&nbsp; “I had a few options in mind for this shindig, but thought it'd be better to go over them with the group...&nbsp; You know...&nbsp; team building shit and stuff like that...”
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: November Cell main game thread</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Praxis</strong> on <strong>11-05-2016, 19:57:42</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatright">(https://pbs.twimg.com/media/B_GMAd6U0AEOiMR.jpg)</div><strong>Character:</strong> <strong>David Oestreicher</strong> (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=246835.msg12206090#msg12206090)<br><strong>Location/Time:</strong> 09:23, 63 Wall Street, New York, Penthouse.<br><strong>Attire:</strong> Moderately priced, impeccably cared for suit; very polished dress shoes<br><strong>Tagged:</strong>Danika<br><hr><br>If Miss Quinn had been enlisted in the past...well...she just didn't read that way.&nbsp; Which was a hurdle of sorts.&nbsp; Even though the "television" had told them that he was in charge, it doesn't really mean anything to a person that doesn't know the chain of command.&nbsp; Detective Temple already confirmed such and he wasn't quite sure how Miss Quinn would react so he would need to play this smart...and the truth of it was that when it came to people.&nbsp; "Playing it smart" just wasn't his thing.<br><br>At the very least she was keeping it light and that made it a little easier.&nbsp; He gave her an amused look as she popped her bubble and without looking, he reached out and grabbed a nearby chair.&nbsp; Pulling it over so he could sit across from, giving him an opportunity to meet her gaze without looking down at her.&nbsp; He nodded his head in a slight, quick fashion as she asked him what else he needed.<br><br>There was a desire inside to go over everything he had told her previously in the meeting room.&nbsp; He'd been enlisted for well over half his life.&nbsp; He'd had good commanders and then some...not so good.&nbsp; The good ones didn't micromanage and the good ones trusted that they only needed to tell you once.&nbsp; If Miss Quinn had questions he would need to trust that she'd ask; if not him, then someone.<br><br><strong>"So..."</strong> , he spoke in a low tone, his fingers laced together and hanging between his knees.&nbsp; His forearms resting on his upper thighs as he continued. <strong> "We'll be using some bleeding edge tech for comms.&nbsp; It works well when in high populated areas. It's sub-vocal and while you can buy mics on Amazon that say it will pick up whispers, these actually do pick up whispers.&nbsp; They're a lot&nbsp; less conspicuous than the normal ones too so we don't look like...well...so we won't look like unsanctioned espionage agents committing criminal acts within our own borders."</strong> , he paused then.&nbsp; Giving it a moment to sink in before offering her a grin that was a little more playful.&nbsp; <strong>"So...why I'm talking to you about this is that while you are going to plenty busy, these comms use a laptop as a server.&nbsp; It comes with the package I'm getting but I'm sure you know as well as I do that tech tends to do funny things when it matters most.&nbsp; So while you won't be in charge of comms, who ever is will probably be sitting right next to you and if something goes sideways with our comms, now you know a little about what we're dealing with.&nbsp; When they arrive; I'll loop you in.&nbsp; It also looks like you're going to be the primary for all three objectives in some respects. So...what do you need? How can we help?"</strong>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: November Cell main game thread</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Kokaine</strong> on <strong>17-05-2016, 04:34:39</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatright">(http://data.whicdn.com/images/12108300/large.jpg)</div><strong>Character:</strong> Danika Quinn<br><strong>Location | Time:</strong> 63 Wall Street, New York, Penthouse. | Sometime after 1000 hours<br><strong>Attire:</strong> Cropped blk &amp; wht varsity jacket &amp; red hoodie, blk beater, pale jeans, blk sneakers, mis-matched multi-color socks, blk beanie<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> David | Open<br><hr>For a brief second she'd thought Oestreicher was going to launch into some sort of speech. Either rehashing the details she'd already heard or trying to play 'daddy' or wise old man or some such crap because apparently something about her tended to have males wanting to tell her what to do all the damn time. Okay, so she had a <em>slight</em> tendency to make decisions that others would consider "foolish" or at least "rash" but whatever trait it was that caused that particular quirk also tended to have her hearing that Charlie Brown noise for adults when people started launching into their lecture mode. So really it was a waste of time for all involved. And it would have set the two of them off on the wrong foot for sure so there was relief when the man took his seat and began to talk something other than the facts already committed to memory or "rules". <br><br>Remaining standing, Danika set aside the envelope and box in her hand and tucked her headphones into the top of her shirt, sliding her then empty palms into her back pockets as she listened. Admittedly the more he said, the more her little mask slipped so that her vagueness became genuine interest, a perhaps slightly devious glint filling her gaze as she gaze a little hop that had her facing him a little more directly. It was only comms of course but Danika liked getting her hands on new toys whenever she could and it was easy enough to ignore the part about not being in charge of them. All in all it sounded at least a bit more intriguing than finding blueprints. At least until David got to the end.<br><br><em>Gonna be the what for what now?!</em><br><br>"Whoa. Whoa. Hold on. On the first ... objective, thing, job, whatever... I'm just getting the blueprints for the rest of y'all, right?" She of course recalled that as well as the fact that he'd put her on locating the research data on site and off but she'd been imagining all that as tasks accomplished from behind her screen. The way he made it sound though... Her smirk dropped away behind a raised brow. <br><br>"Real talk... I'm good with my hands--you know, magic fingers--so the rest of it is easy, at least <em>in theory</em>. Probably a little more complicated in practice though. For one the security feed may not be accessible from offsite. Depends on how cheap whoever makes the decisions is of course. What I really need is a solid set up but unless you can pull some strings and get my personal computer, I'm gonna have to make due with whatever I can find for today." She tried not to pout over that. "Unfortunately that's probably gonna be some cheap ass WalMart reject unless you got some contacts that can hook me up." She did have some things tucked away but getting them today was out of the question. Not to mention there was a high chance it would be tagged and intercepted long before it got to her. There was probably a computer of some sort in the penthouse but unless she was mistaken she didn't want to use that unless there was absolutely no choice. "In all honesty the biggest help will be y'all capturing the target. Reading him will lead me to his research much easier than fishing around, ya know?" She tried not to wonder whether or not Oestreicher was thinking something different from her intended meaning of "reading him" and failed.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: November Cell main game thread</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>MistressofPen</strong> on <strong>19-05-2016, 08:22:44</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatright">(http://i1133.photobucket.com/albums/m592/MistressofPen/Steph01.jpg) </div><strong>Character:</strong> Stephanie Kane<br><strong>Location/Time:</strong> Penthouse Kitchen, 63 Wall Street, NYC, NY<br><strong>Attire:</strong> Jeans, boots, sweater, <del>scarf, leather jacket.</del><br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Mr. Valdez, then Ms. Rose<br><hr><br>Watching the man, he seemed at ease.&nbsp; Stephanie felt like her nerves were on a caffeine overload and she hadn't even had a sip of coffee.&nbsp; Amused, she watched him dig into his treats and open a candy bar and a magazine.<br><br>"Oh?"&nbsp; She stilled, watching him as he admitted to having a few ideas of his own.&nbsp; "I didn't really get the impression that our assigned leader was all that receptive to ideas," she noted.&nbsp; Shrugging, she moved around the wall to grab her bag and jacket.&nbsp; "I'm going to check out this place.&nbsp; Not that I expect to be here long," she said, shrugging and heading for the hallway once more.<br><br>Ostreicher seemed to have cracked the code to talk to the girl, Quinn.&nbsp; Stephanie glanced into the room, but faced forward as she hurried past.&nbsp; He had a decided "do not engage" aura about him and Quinn was a bit prickly, yet.<br><br>The first shock she got was finding her name on an envelope taped to a door.&nbsp; She opened the door and entered the room.&nbsp; She stopped in the doorway as the room looked a lot like her room at home, right down to the desk in front of the window.&nbsp; Well, yippee, Stepahnie thought.&nbsp; Someone's been doing research...on me.&nbsp; Acknowledging that, she tossed her jacket and bag to the bed and moved to the dresser, opening the top drawer and shivering when she found it stocked with panties and bras.&nbsp; Would they bother to clothe them if they intended them to be disposable?&nbsp; They could always hire others with the same sizes...&nbsp; She shoved the drawer shut and found T's sweaters,&nbsp; nightgowns of a variety that she didn't buy.&nbsp; Someone was a comedienne, she decided, picking up the silky items and dropping them back into place.&nbsp; She swallowed roughly as she had the horrible thought that it might be costuming to get to the man...no...no...he was a target according to Max Headroom on the screen; someone to be taken out, not ... she squirmed even thinking the thought...<em>seduced</em>.<br><br>"Well, now I really feel dirty."&nbsp; She moved to the closet, glad to find real clothes, her sizes, her style.&nbsp; Stephanie locked the room; pausing to look at the door as she stood in the hallway once more.&nbsp; Keyhole on the hall side of the door...who else had a key?&nbsp; <br><br>She shook her head.&nbsp; Since she didn't have anything of value with her, she didn't care.&nbsp; At night, if she came back to sleep, she had her wedge to stop the door.&nbsp; <br><br>The next surprise came in the armory.&nbsp; She entered and started to chuckle.&nbsp; Guns of many varieties filled their special racks.&nbsp; She walked around the room, stopping at an old fashioned S&amp;W .38 service revolver.&nbsp; She had a soft spot for revolvers.&nbsp; One had saved her hide when her assailant's semi-automatic jammed.&nbsp; Her trusty revolver had shot true.&nbsp; Oh...what fun she'd had for just a few months, once upon a time...&nbsp; Another shiver worked its way down her spine.&nbsp; Would her team members be surprised that the girl-least-likely had already played in a similar sandbox?&nbsp; <br><br>She left the weapons, for now, and moved on, finding the gym.<br><br>Ms. Rose was busily beating the hell out of the heavy bag.&nbsp; <br><br>Stephanie moved in, not asking, not talking, just taking up a spot to hold the bag to keep it from swinging from the woman’s well-placed strikes.<br><br>When she took a breather, Stephanie released the bag.&nbsp; “Do you use visualization when you attack?” she asked.&nbsp; For some reason she thought that Ms. Rose might be less into small talk of a personal nature, so asked about her training technique.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: November Cell main game thread</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Lyndsey</strong> on <strong>19-05-2016, 18:45:46</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatright">(http://i64.tinypic.com/f34z09.jpg)</div><strong>Character:</strong> <strong>Evelyn Rose</strong> (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=246835.msg12204159#msg12204159)<br><strong>Location/Time:</strong>1240&nbsp; 63 Wall Street, New York, Penthouse - gym.<br><strong>Attire:</strong> Black tank top and shorts, purple running shoes.<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Stephanie<br><hr><br>Evelyn's time in the gym had been a cathartic experience, going some way towards allaying the frayed nerves that had arises as a result of the unfamiliar situation she had found herself in. It was also nice to get some time alone to herself to gather her thoughts, along with all the added benefits that usually accompanied a vigorous workout. <br><br>The woman was just about winding down what little remained of her session when one of her colleagues strolled in, the mousey blonde that looked a little out of place at the morning's meeting,&nbsp; thought the same could be said for most of the people in the apartment. <em> Great... so much for alone time..</em> The woman remembered thinking, her eyes widening slightly in surprise when Ms. Kane unexpectedly walked over to hold the heavy bag steady, which in turn allowed Evelyn to get a few more hits off, ones a little harder than those she had been throwing while on her own.<br><br>Finishing off with a hard kick that used up most of her remaining strength, Evelyn leaned forwards, hands on her knees to catch her breath for a few moments, before pulling herself upright to fix her gaze on the other woman. <br><br>"No, not really... most of my focus is on making sure I have the right posture.. besides, I can't really think of anyone I'd want to hit on a regular basis." Evelyn said, lying through her teeth. There were a good number of people she'd have loved to greet with a firm hook to the face, though that number did not include present company - yet. Taking off her gloves, the blonde hung them up on a rack before moving to grab a towel to dry herself off, regarding Stephanie with a&nbsp; curious look on her features as she did so.<br><br>"Is there something that I can help you with? Boss send you to grab me or something?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: November Cell main game thread</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>MistressofPen</strong> on <strong>22-05-2016, 06:16:18</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatright">(http://i1133.photobucket.com/albums/m592/MistressofPen/Steph01.jpg) </div><strong>Character:</strong> Stephanie Kane<br><strong>Location/Time:</strong> Penthouse Kitchen, 63 Wall Street, NYC, NY<br><strong>Attire:</strong> Jeans, boots, sweater, <del>scarf, leather jacket.</del><br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Evelyn Rose<br><hr><br>She could see the exact moment when Ms. Rose realized she'd entered.&nbsp; The woman had "FUCK OFF" written all over her posture, if not on her face.&nbsp; Stephanie maintained a non-expression.&nbsp; She supposed she had interrupted her work-out.&nbsp; But, really, if they were to be a team, they should get to know each other, somewhat.&nbsp; They didn't have to exchange email addresses or FRIEND each other on Facebook; no, they just needed to be comfortable enough to be themselves.&nbsp; In her experience, that didn't happen in under 24-hours.&nbsp; However, avoiding each other wasn't going to help matters at all.<br><br>Stephanie was jolted by the final kick, managing to keep hold of the bag by pure will, and watched the other woman as she caught her breath.&nbsp; So, she was staring right at her when she answered her question.&nbsp; Bullshit.&nbsp; The word was on the tip of her tongue; she so wanted to call her on her bald-face lie.&nbsp; EVERYone knew someone they wanted to punch.&nbsp; An ex- of some ilk, whether it be lover or boss, the jackass who cut you off on the highway...&nbsp; Stephanie, watched the woman turn away to get a towel.&nbsp; She lied, but was not comfortable in the lying, Stephanie mused.&nbsp; Or, she was just ending the conversation completely.<br><br><em>"Is there something that I can help you with? Boss send you to grab me or something?" </em>&nbsp; Ms. Rose asked, not yet done, it would seem.<br><br>Stephanie shook her head.&nbsp; "Nope."&nbsp; And, with that, she walked out of the gym.
			</dd>
		</dl>
		<div id="footer" class="smalltext">
			
			<span class="smalltext" style="display: inline; visibility: visible; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif;"><a href="https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?action=credits" title="Simple Machines Forum" target="_blank" class="new_win">SMF 2.0.19</a> |
 <a href="https://www.simplemachines.org/about/smf/license.php" title="License" target="_blank" class="new_win">SMF © 2021</a>, <a href="https://www.simplemachines.org" title="Simple Machines" target="_blank" class="new_win">Simple Machines</a>
			</span>
		</div>