Search for a Killer (RP-IC)

[Alarya]

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RP Rules
The purpose of this RP is a Thriller/Murder Mystery/Detective Story. Let's work together to catch the killer!
1. No Godmodding, Killing etc unless it is for the good of the plot and you have permission.
2. Plot twists are amazing and encouraged! I will not interfere with plot twists unless it is necessary for the storyline, but if I tell you to stop...STOP.
3. Alarya is a MT but does contain some fantasy feels (there are dragons as well as psychokinetic people). Feel free to use this within reason.
4. For the record, I personally have no idea where Sir Arthur Radcliffe is hiding...so anything can happen so don't be afraid to take risks and use your imagination while searching for the man. When he does show up, I will be RPing him.
5. Please, please, please be at least semi literate. No one line posts either. Take your time to make what you are writing count for something. We can wait for you.

The Case Profile
The Princess Katherine Anastasia I of the House of Martin was assassinated in Darom in 1995. Many things involving the death of the Princess is still a mystery. It is believed that the sixteen year old Princess was traveling to the airport in Malladur while freeing a formally injured dragon that had been staying in the royal menagerie. As the royal car drove into Darom, the ever compassionate Princess requested that they stop upon seeing what appeared to be an old beggar man on the side of the road. It is believed that The Beggar then presented a pistol and fired it directly, either at Her Majesty or the young dragon that she had been setting free. The Princess was killed almost instantly and the Beggar was found sitting at her side when her body was recovered staring into space. He was arrested and put to death shortly after, believed to be insane.

The beggar's guilt was assumed until 2013 when new evidence proved that the actual killer was Former Prime Minister, Sir Arthur Radcliffe. Radcliffe had not been seen in Alarya since leaving office at the time of the death of the Princess. He has been seen only a few times since then and has altogether vanished since the discovery of his guilt. A worldwide manhunt has been called after the Royal Tower received an anonymous tip that Radcliffe was in the capital city of Nydia.

As a result, Nydia Police Department was put on the case. Months and months of searching has gone by with little luck. Queen Androma Erina has asked for worldwide help as well as local help in the search for the killer. It is believed that he is armed and dangerous. Approach with caution.

[Alarya]

Someone must have opened the window, Alice thought, as she smelled the muggy summer air carry in the breeze that somehow had managed to carry through the Constable's Office. She stood on the high ladder, trying to reach an old dusty volume of some file hadn't yet read in her many shelves. She grabbed the big book off the shelf, and almost lost her equilibrium and fell backwards. Thankfully, she managed to stay upright, though she lost her grip and the file fell. She cringed slightly as papers flew everywhere as the binding hit the floor.

Chief Constable Miles climbed down the ladder, and began to pick up the many papers with a sigh. She didn't know if she could salvage it, and considering it was one of the oldest files in her office, it definitely wasn't good news. From what she could decipher it was one of the first cases from the time of very first King of the House of Martin. A few hundreds of years old and very similar to the current case. But then again, could it? Alice was beginning to get desperate if she really thought an unsolved case hundreds of years old would salvage any information. Maybe it could be salvaged in a museum. Ever so carefully, the Chief Constable carried the old file to her large oak desk in the corner. She placed it on top with the utmost care and sat down allowing the large window to pour sun into the room and warm her back as she looked around the office which she spent much of his time.

What the office lacked in size, it made up in beautiful architecture. It was once of the oldest buildings in the capital, save that of the Royal Tower. Both were designed by the original King of Alarya himself, back when the Royal Family lived in the tower. The entire building was cut out of white bricks, with great marble pillars to either side of the main doors, with a cut out likeness of a dragon on them that seemed to glitter above the unused fireplaces in the main part of the building.

Ready to get back to work Alice cleared her throat, reaching for a new piece of parchment in a pile beside a telephone on her desk. Grabbing a nearby pen, she proceeded to attempt to read the parchment, muttering to herself. It was a document sent to him by a patrol officer from an Alaryan Native, requesting her signature on a robbery charge.

Out of everything she had to do as Chief Constable, this particular sort of law was the part of the job that Alice loathed the most. Having to read on every single personal issue that the people presented her with. Had it been one of the only things she had to do Didn't she have enough on her plate trying to catch a murderer?

"Chief Constable Miles?" A young man called as he appeared at her door suddenly. His head down low, he came into the room handing her a cup of tea. "I was told you wanted to see me, Ma'am."

"Yes, Deputy Ingram.' Looking up happily from her accounts, desperate for an excuse to procrastinate as she reached for the cup of tea he had outstretched toward her. "We have some international help coming in regards to the Radcliffe Case. You're going to be partnered up with one of them, but I would like you to meet them at the airport and escort them here."

Her eyebrow arched slightly as the young man looked at her with his mouth agape. His brown eyes were large as they stared at her, dropping his cup of tea. It was obvious just by looking at the man that he was young and very inexperienced. "A-are you serious? But I thought I was doin' this on me own."

"You're still new, Ben." The Chief Constable said waving him away as she took another sip of tea. "We value what you have to offer us which is why I made you one of the heads in the case but you still need a partner in this investigation."

Deputy Ingram's jaw locked slightly, as he nodded. It wasn't clear if he was put out by the Chief Constable's decision or elated. "Well then I guess I'll be on me way. I'll bring them straight here for a briefin'" He said with another nod, slowly slipping out of the room.

[The Frontier States of Halestock]

Ellis shifted slightly atop his old steamer trunk. He shuffled his legs to his left slightly, and tapped out a quick rhythm onto his knees with his fingers. He came to the decision, after seeing the crowds slide past him for several minutes, that he felt over-dressed. He looked down and adjusted his brown striped waistcoat, and corrected his blood-red tie, thinking that by smartening up he could easily disguise his discomfort. Nobody paid him any heed, so he relaxed slightly. His hand wandered into his jacket pocket, gripping tightly around his trusty pipe. His eyes glazed over a 'no smoking' sign, prompting a sigh.

Alarya was certainly unlike home.

Ellis chortled under his breath to himself, shaking his head. He still couldn't get his head around the fact he was now miles away from the only land he had ever known. And what a strange land it was. Despite having a taste for adventure, the dragon that idly soared past the aeroplane during the descent prompted a gasp of terror and a sharp recoil, much to the amusement of his fellow passengers. Though, after landing and customs, he began to get acclimatized to the idea of these creatures. 'Just wait till Mick and Catherine hear about this' quipped Ellis quietly, filling with a childish glee over these new sights and sounds.

Ellis decided that he may be in the airport for some time. He had gotten through customs quicker than expected (far quicker than if he were at home) and now appeared to have time to kill before he was due to make his way to his headquarters in Alarya.

Wherever that was. He really ought to have asked for a map while he was writing to the authorities here. 'Great first impression' He muttered, rising to his feet and grabbing his steamer trunk by the handle. 'Well, at least they know I'm coming' he thought, as he strolled up to an official looking man in a fluorescent vest.

'Excuse me friend, where the hell could I find a coffee in here?' Ellis drawled, dropping his trunk by his feet.

The man pointed to a small stand in the crowd and announced 'over there sir!', pointing for emphasis. Thanking the man, Ellis turned towards the stall, which was surrounded by people, all clamoring and calling out aggressively for strange coffees that end in vowels, and 'low-fat blue-berry and poppy seed muffins'.

'Wonderful. I've seen riots that seem more pleasant.' Ellis quipped, as he dragged his trunk into the open, taking a seat on it once more, forgetting the notion of coffee.

[McNernia]

The Colonel arrived in the country incognito, the Embassy had already gotten him the papers needed IDing him as one of the officers who had volunteered to look for the killer of that princess years ago. He wore casual clothes, trainers and slacks and a t-shirt. A windbreaker of the McNernian Nation Team the Lions was over that. Dark crimsion. He had his side arm, ASP .45P, Police. He had his Constabulary badge, he looked at the files on his tablet.

"Arthur Radcliffe." His name had come up in files seized in a raid on a MNPLA safe house. The man had been mentioned as someone who could make sure that there was a steady supply of armaments. So naturally he would have to be tracked down. The Detective colonel collected his Army duffel at the baggage claim. The Alrayans had not sent anyone to meet him, he kind of liked it that way. He was some one with telepathic/kinetic ability due to time spent investigating the business of so-called magic users.

He looked around the airport and then got on the city bus. He pulled out his mobile and checked it. He found the necessary stop. Then he got off and headed down the street to the Police station. "Detective Colonel Ian FitzPatrick of the McNernian Royal Constabulary, Special Branch here for the business of a certain former PM of your country. And where do you have some hot chocolate?"

[Wandering Argonians]

The Argonian contribution had made excellent time to their destination, conveyed by an Agency private jet. As it circled, awaiting permission to land, Special Agent Hector Reez glanced out of the window of the aircraft, watching in muffled amusement as the occasional dragon wafted by the otherwise unremarkable airport.

Reez was young by Argonian standards, barely thirty. Like most of his kind he was solidly built, scaly and angular-featured with a pair of fin-like ears rising off the sides of his head. Green eyes regarded the nation below, looking down over a blunt snout. He'd dressed himself rather simply, a finely-tailored black suit with a white shirt and a matching black tie, complemented with well-polished square-toed shoes. Born into poverty in the Argonian capitol city of Grayrock, Reez lacked the ritual tattoo markings of tribally-born 'marshlander' Argonians. Instead, he'd grown up in a series of slums and ghettos, falling in with criminal elements and learning a multitude of useful (if highly-illegal) skills in the process, at least until he was arrested and interred in a juvenile detention center at the age of seventeen after attempting to hack into one ATM too many. He'd been 'released' into the custody of a mysterious benefactor that turned out to be the head of the Argonian Intelligence Service.

After the arduous training regimen, Reez was rated as a field agent at the age of twenty, and since then had proven himself to be a highly-capable agent with a flair for getting into places and getting his hands on things he really wasn't supposed to get his hands on. He'd worked extensively with the Argonian National Police during their anti-Organized Crime operations and had learned quite a bit about investigation in the process. Granted, he knew quite a bit about law enforcement, but that had been on the opposite end of the spectrum. Unfortunately, he'd also developed a distaste for humans in general.

His gaze drifted towards his assigned partner for this operation; Special Agent Talen Kast. Talen was a blue-eyed, tribally-tattooed slab of reptilian muscle, a tall borderline brute by most estimations. Kast had been the child of marshland fishermen, orphaned at the cusp of his adulthood by slavers. He'd enlisted voluntarily during the civil war, serving initially as a paratrooper and ending his distinguished military career as a sniper in a special operations section, but Reez had only skimmed the file. Kast was top-rated in the Intelligence Service rankings for knife-fighting as well as long-distance marksmanship, the former commando having found employment with the Argonian Intelligence Service a logical continuation of his career. Truthfully, it wasn't his favorite job. The military hadn't sat well with him either. As a lad, he'd ambushed slavers in the marshes with his tribal brethren. During the war, he'd fought against them, and killed a great many. The deeds that had won him acceptance in the city-born society weighed heavily on his soul.

Like all of his kind, Talen's arms and torso were covered with tribally-significant tattoos, his currently-exposed forearms sheathed in gentle spirals and angular designs of his coastal home village. While outwardly an intimidating individual, Talen's mannerisms were typically friendly, even if there was a sadness behind his eyes. Like Reez, he was armed with the standard sidearm of the AIS, a highly-modified Glock 19. The compact 9mm was nearly swallowed by his beefy grip, but Talen (and Reez) was quite proficient with it. The former commando carried three spare magazines for his weapon, where Reez only carried two. The former marshlander also carried a Kilzyar fighting knife horizontally at the small of his back, a trophy he'd taken from a dead slaver he'd broken his own blade slaying. As a sniper, formerly from the military and currently when he was (more often than he liked) pressed into the role of assassin, Talen was an adept tracker, the training only bolstered by the fact that he'd survived tracking and hunting as a child on both sides of that particularly lethal fence.

Sad blue eyes looked over at the slimmer Argonian looking out the window, regarding him with a measure of distaste. The pair weren't on good terms, Kast seeing Reez as an overly-ambitious killer without remorse; Reez seeing Kast as only slightly better than a traitor, and too soft on the marshland tribals still waging guerrilla war back home, albeit on a smaller scale lately. Reez was ruthlessly effective in the accomplishment of his assigned missions, and Kast respected him for that, where Reez seemed to respect the fact that Kast's talents lay in the area of death and destruction. Still, mentally Talen resolved to do most of the talking, and do his best to keep the notoriously-xenophobic Reez's mouth shut.

By now, the plane had landed with a bump, a feeling Kast had become used to since joining the Service. He'd flown often enough as a soldier, but landing had usually been via parachute. The ramp popped and he made a motion for Reez to follow, effectively taking the lead as both the senior agent and by virtue that he'd honestly not hesitate to throw the younger Argonian into a sturdy wall should he step out of line. Customs was waived with a wave of their diplomatic visas and a flash of their identification badges. Baggage claim was likely to be the most interesting event...

"So what color was your bag again?"

Reez pointed at a grayish duffel bag specifically designed for travel, and Kast snatched it up effortlessly, along with the battered and faded olive drab military duffel that followed behind it stenciled with 'KAST, TALEN 4522' in equally-faded black spray-paint...

"Why do you haul that thing around? It's obvious you're an ex-soldier now. I don't understand why you draw attention to yourself like that..."

Kast flung the hefty duffel at Reez with a flick of his arm, the smaller male catching it with some difficulty and nearly loosing his balance in the process...

"Look around Hector. We're the only non-humans I can see in this place, and we're dressed like the frigging 'Blues Brothers'. I'd say it's pretty obvious we're not from around here..."

Never one to take a hint, Reez persisted...

"That's a given, but now you're advertising you're ex-military, your name, etc..."

Again, Kast snorted dismissively...

"We're not here covertly. I also happen to love this duffel bag, it's likely older than you are, and it should go without saying I like it more than you. Anyway, we just checked in with customs. Anyone wanting to know our names need only glace at the flight manifest..."

Not willing to concede his point, Reez waved a hand towards the door. The pair stood outside on the curb, Talen flicking a pair of aviator shades down over his eyes to shield them from the sunny summer glare. The wind smelled of exhaust, cut grass, and another scent he didn't recognize. His species had adapted a highly-sensitive olfactory sense at some point during their evolution, which was normally rather handy when one didn't take into account Reez's apparent fondness for cologne.

Offhandedly, he noticed a human woman staring up at him. He smiled, attempting to not bare his impressive canine teeth in the process. Startled, she asked a question...

"What brings you gentlemen to our fair nation?"

Talen smiled again before responding, he'd been waiting all day to use this line...

"We're musicians, ma'am..."

[3 State Alliance]

ASOM HQ
#21, Government Plaza
Grand Peaks
The Alliance

As had happened so many times before in the past, a single message was all it took - now Agents Murdoch and Fletcher had their first real assignment. In the past 24 hours 14 possible matches had been made within the Alliance - all had been coincidences... The next logical step was to go to Alarya and search every avenue possible. They were set to leave as soon as Lynch got back from New Siberia - that lead had been another coincidence - the guy had left Alarya around the time of the assassination, nothing more...

24 hours later...
The Airport
Alarya

"Well this was a good idea."
The three agents were sitting in the airport's cafe waiting for their contact in the Alaryian police force to arrive.
"Oh shut it Flecher, you're worse than Murdoch."
"She has a point though, how do we even know this 'contact' of yours?"
"They invited us, at this location and they have your photos for reference."

'Lynch' looked pleased with herself as she spoke, they made a boring group - Murdoch was in his 40s, with graying brown hair and cold grey eyes. Fletcher was younger - maybe early thirties, auburn hair, matching eyes and a slender body, lastly Lynch, a tallish, blondish, 20ish common looking young lady - the only thing that set her apart from most girls were her piercing blue eyes, locked in a thousand yard stare.

They were all dressed in grey business suits and all had ominous matching briefcases by theirs sides.

Fletcher spoke up.
"So we just sit around until something happens?"
"You're new at this, thats it exactly rookie, just chill and enjoy your coffee."

[Makaivellia]

Chief Detective Michael Davis stepped off the airplane, flask in hand. No doubt he was already buzzed. He tucked his flask into his pea coat and pushed forward. Accompanied by his agents, who were taking in the new country. Davis himself didn't care, it was a case he took to save his ass from getting fired and honestly he could care less about some damn monarchy.

Mark Miles and Maria Leone followed their boss. Already, the strong scent of his liquor could be smelled. Davis' good looks and obsession with his job can only be rivaled by his demons and his strong taste for good alcohol. Mark and Maria often questioned his Davis' abilities to solve crimes or find criminals, but he could do these things in a few days on no sleep. Running purely on obsession. The trio stepped into the main airport, with more luggage than anyone could imagine.

[The Frontier States of Halestock]

'Oh, they're arguing again'. Ellis' eyes wandered back over to the coffee stand, where a pair of businessmen stood, gesticulating wildly and pointing accusingly at one another. From what he could very clearly overhear, they were arguing over who ordered first. First, cutting in line. Now this. However mundane, it was entertainment to anyone with nothing better to do. Like Ellis.

Letting himself look away from the spectacle for a moment, Ellis slid his hand into his waistcoat pocket and produced his battered, brass pocket-watch. He flipped it open with a casual flick of his wrist. Damn. Time had really run away from him.If he remembered correctly, the Nydia Police Department was coming to escort him to the station. Where on earth will his pick-up have gone? A neglected thought dawned on Ellis. He couldn't remember if he ever did confirm pick-up with the NPD while he was corresponding with them. Ellis sighed, and held his face in his hands. There was an hour he wasn't getting back.

Making a mental note to avoid procrastination in the future, Ellis stood up. His legs had stiffened up after the lengthy seated period, so he shook them out subtly. He turned and picked up his tan hide jacket off the top of his trunk. He swirled it over his head, and slid his arms into it. He rearranged his hair back into a neat side parting and scratched his stubble as he bent down to grab the polished wooden handle of his steamer trunk. For a moment it seemed heavier, but it soon became the familiar weight that Ellis had been travelling with. He strode out of the arrivals lounge, clicking his heels against the polished tiles of the lounge as he walked.

From outside, the airport was even more impressive. Glass, steel and concrete surrounded the bustling crowds as they made their way home and abroad. The auto-mobiles seemed much more colourful and less streamlined than those at home too. Impressive. Ellis wound his way through a large group of tourists filing onto a large bus that looked relatively luxurious. He assumed that travel must be available outside. Somewhere. He saw a jet black, streamlined car sitting in a rank and figured that it had to be a cab. After seeing a young, laughing couple get into the car in front and speed off, Ellis decided that this was his best bet. He approached the window. A rough looking man in a flat cap sat reading a newspaper in the front seat. Ellis could see from his vantage point at the window that the paper was plastered with images of scantily clad women and articles about one particular sport . He doubted that it was considered 'quality journalism'. The cabbie became aware of Ellis' presence and turned to face him. He looked rougher face-to-face than previously thought. Shaved head, glaring eyes, visible broken nose and a slightly protruding jaw although it was evident that he was probably quite handsome once. The phrase 'face for radio' shot through Ellis' mind. Ellis leaned down into the open window, placing his trunk beside his feet. 'Hello sir. You wouldn't happen to be able to take me to the Nydia Police Department headquarters?' The cabbie nodded and pointed a thumb into the passenger seating as he fired up the engine. He never turned to face Ellis as he climbed into the back with his trunk in tow. 'So. What time are you on till?' Ellis said, attempting polite conversation. The cabbie never took him up on it, and grunted. 'Alright then.' Ellis quipped under his breath as he turned to face out of the window.

As the cab began to head outside of the airport pick-up zone, Ellis spied two very peculiar individuals in suits. One looked rather like human-like dragon. The other a much larger version of the prior . Both of them wore black suits, and the big one was engaged in conversation with a woman. Ellis felt his jaw drop. How interesting. He began to wonder if they were in any way related to the winged beasts he saw during his descent, but then realised - considering he himself had just left an airport - that they were probably travelling from a completely different country and that he was thinking rather narrowly and was being rather unpleasant. He looked at the floor of the car and tried to ignore how guilty he was feeling. That sort of thinking as too common at home. He didn't engage in it there, and wouldn't here. He muttered an apology quietly to himself and looked back out of the window. They had left the airport.

Alarya was even more exciting outside of the airport arrivals lounge. The roads were busy with other cars and the scenery surrounding Nydia was rather beautiful. Nydia was something else entirely. Buildings of every shape and size. Some old, some new. Ellis preferred the older ones. They reminded him of the architecture of home. There were also buildings that looked like they existed here long before Nydia did, never mind Halestock. One tower in particular seemed to attract great crowds. Ellis made a mental note to visit it if he had time. The cab slowed down in front of an elegant white building. Ellis decided that this was his favourite building in the city. It was a large building, with grand pillars surrounding the main doors. Dragon decals were carved into the pillars either side of the doors. Marvellous.

A number flashed up on a counter above the window separating the passengers from the driver. 15 keis. Ellis reached for his bill-fold in his back pocket. If anything productive came from an hour at the airport, it was visiting the currency exchange. He handed the money over and stepped out of the cab. No sooner had his feet hit the pavement, the cab roared off down the street. Ellis furrowed his brow looking at the cab is it sped away. He brushed the front of his jacket with his hands, and picked up his trunk. He strode in through the front doors of the police station.

The foyer of the police headquarters was rather grand. Pillars were also a feature in here. Ellis walked briskly over to the officer at the front desk, crossing a large seal in the centre of the room as he did so. The officer looked up to face him from the notebook he was writing in. Ellis dropped his trunk by his side and extended his hand out to the officer.

'Ellis M. Burnett. Private Detective. How you doin'?'

[Alarya]

Upon the main entrance into the Police Department, was a crowded waiting room. It was large, causing the many voices to echo against the walls and their footsteps to click loudly against the polished marble flooring. Yes, it was indeed large from one end to another, could very easily fit a small house inside. A crystal chandelier hanging above everyone's head. There was a great door to the side, the sheer size of the ropes that it would take at least two men to pull the curtains open. Nearby stood a young woman, who the respective officers pointed both Detectives toward. She couldn't be any older than her early thirties but her already sunken, pale face and tight frown made her seem older. Large pale eyes eyed them across the room for a moment, before she walked briskly toward them.

"Detectives." She said matter of factly, with a single nod toward each. "You're early. Chief Constable Miles just sent someone to greet you at the airport."

[McNernia]

Fitzpatrick looked over at the detective. He was a but flustered to hear that a representative had been sent to the airport but that well he had missed them. He was a senior officer of the MRC Special Branch, many years of experience. He came over when directed by a officer.

"Detective-Colonel Ian FitzPatrick. HM Mcnernian Royal Constabulary CID Special Branch."

[Wandering Argonians]

They hadn't been waiting long, in the grand scheme of things. Reez had located a bench away from the more mundane foot traffic and hauled his hefty duffel over to rest it next to him. Kast had followed, but had remained standing. The two never had much to say to one another, and the animosity was almost palpable. Why the Director had cobbled the two of them together was beyond Kast's understanding, but it likely stemmed from his usual partner, a fellow tribal and childhood friend named Verrick Kreets, being temporarily seconded to the Special Tasks Group for an assignment abroad where his exemplary leadership abilities could be used to the greatest effect. Kast himself typically spent a great deal of time on the STG rotation roster, as did Reez. STG handled a wide range of situations and scenarios, but operated for the most part in a covert direct-action role. They toppled governments, removed troublesome personages, and destroyed important targets. Whatever actual raw intelligence was acquired in the process was usually a bonus, and seldom the actual objective.

Kast was as adept behind a small-arm as he was a sniper's weapon, and was typically employed as an exceptionally precise blunt instrument when not behind a long-rifle. The fact that he was likely one of the most efficient killing tools the Argonian government had yet produced was at odds with his personable demeanor. This assignment would be a welcome break from the violence that typically comprised the bulk of his work-load, although as with most things, there would be blood before the gavel fell and the sentence was passed. Assuming, that was, that the blood aforementioned didn't belong to the killer in the first place. From his readings of similar cases on the flight over, Talen had seen a disturbing trend of violence that usually began with the discovery of the killer and ended with the killer's demise.

That was the reason he'd brought the extra ammunition. He always did, but he'd been forbidden to bring the second gun along as well, the Director citing that this wasn't a combat operation or a wet-work assignment, and he didn't need a hold-out. The police force they were working with would likely have its own tactical team on hand to handle the heavy lifting of dragging the suspect out of a fortified position, where Talen was brought along due to his ability to track with complete certainty. He was not, and this had been stressed to him, not on hand for his more lethal talents. This was a vacation of sorts, at least for him.

Reez's skill-set was a bit more centered around getting access to things he wasn't supposed to have access to, and remaining discreet while doing so. While still no slouch with a weapon and AIS-Certified as a sniper, he wasn't Kast's equal in the combative realm. Still, the former criminal was able to crack most forms of encryption with his tablet and was a talented lockpicker. His reason for assignment was investigative expertise, and nothing more. He'd begun his career assigned to an anti organized-crime task force jointly operated between the Argonian National Police and the Argonian Intelligence Service, as a departmental liaison between the two. He'd been younger, and far more careless back then. After working a few raids with some of the officers assigned to the task force, he'd been targeted by the elements he pursued. They'd dispatched a pair of armored SUV's laden with high-dollar mercenaries to kill him, and they'd almost succeeded. Reez walked with more than a few scars from that instance, and he'd been called on again to do something similar, only now he was a veteran agent and not a gung-ho newbie. They also pursued a single connected murderer instead of a well-organized and well-funded network of them.

The younger agent glanced over at the older, larger agent on his right, who was facing away down the street. His encounter with the mercs was his first actual fire-fight, and there hadn't been many more since, but he remembered each in vivid detail, the horror and the fear fueling his actions and movements, the adrenaline-soaked mad-dash to kill the other guy before he killed you. Reez wondered how many such instances were kicking around in the head of his fellow agent, the former special forces guy, the STG golden-boy, the top-ranked assassin. He despised the older agent, but he still respected his track record.

All that ran through Talen Kast's mind was a vague inquiry as to where their supposed ride was...

[Alarya]

The woman's eyebrow arched as she took the soldier's hand and shook it quickly.

"I'm Deputy Lea Watkins," The woman said with a stiff nod. "Mcnernian Royal Constabulary CID Special Branch, you said? Chief Constable Miles will want to talk to you straight away, please if you would follow me."

Deputy Watkins led him across the room toward a door labeled, "The Briefing Room" as she gestured for the Detective-Colonel to follow. She opened the door to reveal a spacious room, similar to a classroom. It was a large room with a big circle of tables and a large white board at the head where two portraits hung. The first being of two Princesses, both girls of fair skin and extravagant beauty, the younger girl no older than sixteen years of age with long brown hair pulled back out of her eyes, soft chocolate brown eyes and had a warm kind and understanding smile that was beyond her years. The older one with dark black hair that cascaded down her shoulders and pale green eyes that only seemed to pop in contrast with the dark purple gown she wore. Both Princesses in the portrait looked so realistic it seemed that they would jump out at any moment. The other, a picture of a tall man with wiry brown hair the color of dirt and a lanky appearance but still managed to seem all important by the way he stood. There were supplemental materials for groups to have access to for studying, writing or researching. I will have bookshelves in the corner where students can research and use resources supplemental to the textbooks. There were a few computers for reports and research, as well as use of applications to present reports during a briefing session.

Typing away at one of those computers was a young woman with chin length auburn hair to which she tucked behind her ear as her head snapped up. Chief Constable Miles stood, as Deputy Watkins approached with the Detective-Colonel with her hand outstretched to shake his hand as Deputy Watkins made the introductions.

"Thanks for coming," Miles said with a stiff nod. "I'm looking forward to working closely with you. This is an important case for all Alarya, and we're hoping the information you can provide will have some answers. We'll be doing a briefing in a little while so in the meantime make yourself comfortable. Can I get you anything?"

She smiled as she gestured for him to sit down. Getting a good look at her one would have that that she would have been much prettier had she not had the haggard appearance of someone who hadn't slept in weeks. Her green eyes were sunken and had dark rims underneath them and her clothes were wrinkled but sensible, a shirt with a suit jacket and jeans and it was obvious that she preferred them to be loose, unlike the standard uniform that Deputy Watkins wore.

Meanwhile at the airport, a young man came rounding about the corner with very little grace. It was apparent that he had been in a hurry as his feet slipped on the slick floor, as he found himself unable to stop. Crashing into a nearby tabloid stand as he tried to recover, mumbling apologies as papers and tabloids flew everywhere. He took a few minutes attempting to help the lady at the stand but was shooed away almost immediately. Muttering apologies again, the young man slowly stood up, running a hand through his brown hair with a loud sigh before his eyes fell on the Argonian contribution.

At first, the young man gave a small squeak of surprise at the appearance of the creatures before he regained his composure. He looked around for a brief moment, once again running his hand through his slightly matted brown hair. Finally after a few moments, he took a slow steady breath and shuffled toward them, his narrow face slightly red.

He stood in front of them for a moment, awkwardly and in awe before suddenly reaching into his pocket to yank out a piece of wrinkled up parchment as well as a small golden badge, which he flashed toward them before forcing it back into his jean's pocket with difficulty. A candy wrapper fell to the floor as he brought the parchment up to eye level, opening it up as he read it's contents.

"Are you from Argonian Intelligence Service by any chance?"

[Wandering Argonians]

Talen wasn't entirely sure of what to make of the scene that just unfolded, almost literally, in front of him. This rather disorganized-looking young man was apparently their ride. That, or he was a singularly inept hitman. Talen doubted the latter, and gently flicked his aviators down with a finger so he could look over them at the human in what he felt was a singularly 'cool' manner...

"That would be us..."

The burly agent risked a look around himself and Reez in mock disbelief...

"Seems we're the only Argonians here..."

He followed the quip with a smile, again attempting to keep from bearing his teeth, a rather difficult task with a mouth not originally intended to perform such a function. A hand brushed aside his jacket, revealing a formal Argonian Intelligence Service badge of burnished bronze sitting just in front of the pistol he kept hidden in the shadow of the concealing garment. Talen extended a meaty hand...

"Special Agent Kast, the surly one is Special Agent Reez. Someone who makes more than I do thinks we might be of some service, otherwise I need to have a serious heart-to-heart with my travel agent. It's a risky business. You are?"

Reez rose from the bench, hefting his bag over his shoulder and not saying a word. He'd been warned, by both the Director and by Kast himself, that xenophobic nonsense would not be tolerated on this operation. Talen had already mentioned 'motivation' in a very ominous sense on the flight over, and despite Reez's own skill at fisticuffs, Kast would likely flatten him with one of those holiday hams he passed off as hands.

The younger agent attempted to avoid staring a hole through the human, but realized he wasn't doing a very good job of that, instead locking his jaw into a nonchalant posture and attempting to look friendly, which he also failed miserably at. Reez settled on glaring at Kast, for pulling not one but two ancient movie references out of his ass within an hour of their landing. He silently applauded himself for not literally face-palming at Kast's attempt at humor, which was likely lost on the human anyway...

[Alarya]

It had been obvious that some sort of joke had been made, completely going over the young man's head who laughed nervously for a moment, shoving his hands into his pockets, before realizing that the Argonian's hand was still outstretched.

"Oh um, Deputy Benjamin Ingram," The young man said, hesitating for only a moment before taking Kast's brawny hand. His eyes grew slightly as the Argonian's hand wrapped around his own, completely enveloping it. "of the Nydia Police Department, but I mostly go by Ben."

He let go quickly, flexing his hand on instinct as he nodded toward Reez, his face going from pale to crimson as he felt the creature's glare. There was a moment of awkward silence, before he shoved his hands back into his pockets and continued. "I'm sorry I'm late. Got turned around a bit trying to find the right terminal. Chief Constable Miles is eagerly awaiting ya, she wants me to escort you to the Station."

Ben gestured for them to follow him with a head nod, his brows furrowed obviously trying to think of something else to say. It was very clear that the art of being a gracious host was not yet his forte as he suddenly launched himself forward reaching for their cargo. "Can I get your bags? Oh, and welcome to Alarya!"

[Wandering Argonians]

Talen shook his head at the mention of help with the bags as he easily hefted the old military duffel up onto his shoulder, and turned to make sure Reez was doing the same. When he noticed the glare he was shooting at the human, he motioned for the younger agent to move forward first, and slapped him across the back of the head with enough force to jar his teeth as he passed.

Reez snarled a muffled curse, but otherwise got the point. They followed Deputy Ingram to his vehicle, and Talen went about stuffing the bags in the trunk, while his smaller counterpart seated himself in the back seat to further deny Kast any attempts at correcting his behavior. After slamming the trunk lid shut, the larger Argonian got into the front seat and swiftly adjusted the seat as far back as it would go to slam into one of Reez's knees. He smiled a fake smile at the glowering agent before wedging himself in the seat and closing the door...

"Alright. So how much foreign support has this case generated?"

Kast's tone was friendly, but it still had a business-like edge to it. He clearly wanted to know who he was working with. It would be a superb time to observe the tactics of rival intelligence agencies, should their parent nations have taken similar routes to the Republic and dispatched intelligence agents instead of detectives or law enforcement personnel. The homeland was rather militant, where even the police forces of the Argonian National Police and the Marshland Security Service (Urban and Rural respectively) were more aggressive than most comparable nations. The MSS in particular was a unique entity, a highly-trained riverine patrol organization equipped to fight small-scale wars if need be, and they often did against the still active marshlander insurgency movement.

In short, it made more sense to dispatch individuals like Kast and Reez for situations like this. The Argonian National Police didn't report to the government per se, and only worked domestically. They'd been approached for assistance by the Argonian Intelligence Service, but they'd flatly refused. The spooks had a reputation of working outside the law, at least domestically, and the frequently attached themselves to cases the national police undertook without reason to do so most of the time. It generated the appearance of influencing investigations, and that was certainly not appreciated.

Talen stopped musing for a moment to pull a protein bar from a pocket in his suit and deftly unwrap the plastic sheathing before ripping a chunk out of it with his carnivorous teeth, gnashing it around momentarily before swallowing...

"I ask so we don't step on too many toes. There are still nations out there that refuse to acknowledge the existence of beings like Agent Reez and myself. Last thing we want to do is cause trouble for our gracious hosts..."

The burly Argonian tore another piece off of his impromptu meal after he'd finished speaking...

[McNernia]

"Yes, Yes I am". Fitzpatrick got out his badge and ID. Confirming his colonels rank and MRC posting to Special Branch. Called the Security Bureau sometimes in some circles.

The Detective-Colonel followed the Deputy, he had the bearing of a solider but his way of doing things was Lawman through and through. Special Branch had the authority to call the Special Task Force the elite SF of the Mcnernian policing world. He settled himself down at the table and checked his briefcase, there was some serious material in regards to this man, it was connected to ARSENAL and then HERALD, HERALD was a more speculative thing, Central Committee Foreign Affairs. Sometimes the code names were obvious, so obvious, ARSENAL, HERALD. The sort of things were not THAT obvious. He took note of the various things in the room. It was part of his CID training, he had been looking at bomb sites over the past few weeks. Good Army and Police people blown up. And well the target of this investigation was a possible part of the MNPLA supply chain.

"Your welcome, this man is of interest to Special Branch, MD-5 and MD-6 for certain reasons which I do belive I can go into detail, with only you. And well, tea, earl grey decaf with cream and sugar. I have some files with me." He reached into the case he had and pulled out a tablet. Unlocked it was handed over. "We have reason to belive that the murderer of one of those princesses, I belive one was killed am I right? Is connected to ARSENAL a major terrorist supplier."

[Alarya]

"We've been getting loads of support, but there is only a handful of countries actually coming in to help." Ben responded as he slid into the front seat, began to drive off into the busy streets of Alarya. There were some large green rolling hills for awhile, before they came into the larger part of the city. The buildings seemed older, at least three hundred years old and made of stone that gave it a medieval sort of look about it. This clashed of course, with the modern day shops, cars and road signs that littered the small but busy roads. Despite this however, everything seemed to fit in quite nicely to each other. Ben's car whipped around the surrounding cars with impressive speed as he continued. "I'm new to the department, so I'm not authorized to give out too much information regardin' our fellow adversaries in the case. The person to ask'll be Chief Constable Miles at the briefing...but you'll meet them all then."

"But as far as bein' hesitant of being accepted here you don't have to worry," Ben added as they turned around another corner, zipping by a large stone statue of a dragon on the outside seemed to tower above them for a brief moment before they sped on by, passing a large palace where a young boy and girl seemed to be playing with what appeared to be a floating ball. A pair of silent suited man stood not far off from them in the distance. "Chief Constable Miles has been looking forward to workin' with you and as long as she values what you have to offer, most of the department will too."

He frowned ever so slightly, as if he had something in the back of his mind as they came across a traffic light flashing red. Ben's car approached it without slowing down, slamming on the breaks suddenly, snapping out of his own thoughts."We're almost there. It's just up ahead."

Alice nodded to Fitzpatrick in understanding. Very slowly, she walked toward the door of the briefing room and shutting the door quietly before turning back toward the detective-colonel crossing her arms with her eyebrow arched.

"How exactly Detective-Colonel, can you back this up? What is the connection?"

They wouldn't be able to talk about it long, the briefing would begin as soon as Deputy Ingram returned with the rest of the International Help. She had hoped that they would be able to discuss it all at the actual briefing but Detective-Colonel Fitzpatrick seemed so confident. What he was suggesting could possibly mean war if there could be proof. She had heard of ARSENAL, but not enough to know what it would entail.

[McNernia]

FitzPatrick looked over the files he had looked back at the Chief Constable. She did not seem to trust the intelligence he had. He played an audio record. "This is a phone conversation, two weeks ago originating from this country to Mcnernia. And to someone who did not like the Government." He pressed play.

Hello.

Good to hear from you my Alaryan friend.

Good to hear from you to my dear Communist armorer

And well do you have the shipment.

It will arrive where you want it on schedule.

Thank you.

"A voice match was run and well it came up as a match to a certain former PM of your country. And the man on the other end is ARSENAL the logistics chief for the MNPLA."

[Wandering Argonians]

Talen shrugged off the excuse of not knowing without actually shrugging...

"I'm not worried about acceptance in your nation, Deputy. We're aware that it's host to dragons and such. It's part of the reason why we offered assistance in the first place. No, certain human nations don't acknowledge the fact that nations populated with non-humans exist. Not an issue. I look forward to working with your people..."

In the back, Reez rolled his eyes. He was the opposite of such nations. He knew damn well that they existed, and he hated them right back for their prejudice, returning it with his own. Reez was also eager to see what these soft-skins had to offer in terms of investigative talents. He didn't expect a great deal out of a species that couldn't track by scent, or that had lost its hunter-gatherer tendencies in favor of super-markets and eating establishments. While Reez himself rarely had to hunt or kill anything for his food, like most bigots he clung to the tendencies of the majority of his species, the marshland traitors who fought the Modernist government every day of their lives, with every fiber of their beings.

Still, Reez was a different sort of predator, one that hunted sentient beings. They both were, come to think of it. Reez made a mental note to ask about Deputy Ingram's previous investigations, to see what manner of hunter he was...

[Alarya]

Alice arched her eyebrow curiously, slowly sinking into a nearby chair as she listened to the message. This certainly verified the man's claim and it wasn't a good thing. She was vaguely aware of ARSENAL and MNPLA, but she knew it wasn't good if they were connected with Radcliffe. Placing her hand on her chin, she looked up at Fitzpatrick. "Do you have anything else? Can we listen to the audio file for any hints as to where they are? If they are connected we need to know how long they've been in contact. That way, we'll be able to know where to look. Radcliffe's been missing for years, who knows what kind of hell they could be planning. The last thing we need is a terrorist threat to top off all this madness."

Ben's eyes flashed toward the rearview mirror as the Argonian spoke but said nothing in return as he pulled up to the large station. Pulling into the vehicle into the nearby parking spot, he turned in his seat as the car came to a stand still. Eyebrow arched ever so slightly, he nodded his head and gestured to them both.

"Well," Ben said, gesturing to the building. "Here we are, then. This is the home base. Chief Inspector Miles should be waiting for us."

[Mizrad]

Sitting in his office, staring more and more intensely at a picture of a squad of soldiers Agent Drake Wayne begins to break. Reaching for the .45 on his desk the young man thinks to himself about life. Slowly pulling the weapons closer and closer to his temple thoughts run through his mind faster than the wind whipping against his window.

"More and more I find myself thinking, asking myself if it's all worth it. No matter how hard I try I can't find answers. Finding anything with a truth behind is a skill that's been slipping away from me faster than ever. Right when I need it most, it's gone. Though I've got a job to do, I'll see this one through. Maybe it all come back. Then again, maybe it won't but, there's only one way to find out.Is it really all worth it? "

Unexpectedly, Drake holsters the M45A1 and stands up. Pushing his chair in and packing away the picture in his pocket, he makes his way to the door. Before he reaches it, the wooden barrier is opened up on the other side. Agent Trevor Cho, Dr. Brooke Hudson and Captain John Turner look at Drake. In return he speaks up as the group begins to walk down the hallway to the elevator.
"Morning, I wasn't told you'd be accompanying us Mr. Turner, care to explain?"
John responds, smug as usual with a heavy Boston accent and a grizzly tone. Something that's stuck with him through all his life, unlike almost anything else.
"Real detective, aren't you? I'm here to guide you into Alarya, just hope I don't need to come back for you."
Brooke then talks back to the man, a full foot an a half taller than her.
"Now why would that be?"
Drake takes John's place in answering her question.
"He means coming back to save us, or what's left of us."
Brooke speaks up again, as she does the group reaches the top floor and makes their way to the Black Hawk awaiting their arrival.
"I don't recall the Alaryans being as violent as you two."
John grins as he steps into the chopper, helping her in as he speaks.
"The Alaryans? They're the least of your worries."

After entering the chopper, the three MCID Agents go silent as Turner talks with the pilot. They begin their ascent, and soon after their journey. The Black Hawk soars over the vast array of skyscrapers and land marks, their architectural beauty reflecting in the bright morning sun. The shadow of a lone helicopter is cast over the city of New Boston. A few minutes later, the same chopper lands and drops off the four at the government section of the New Boston Airport. The cold wind blowing around around as the sun continues to heat the tarmac.

Stepping off of the UH-60M and walking to the sleek, black private jet guarded by two soldiers in more civilian looking clothing. Although their gear and weapons were still visible, showing their clear intentions. Flashing their ID's, the four enter the plane and the Agents take their seat. John then heads over to the guards and helps them on to the plane. With the final preparations for taking off being made, Turner and the two soldiers pack away everything before sitting down.

Overheard, two F/A-25W's scream through the sky as the private jet takes off and begins to tail them. Whilst heading for Alarya at hundreds of miles an hour, the group begins to talk. Although Trevor starts it off on a bad note.
"So why'd they pick you for guiding us in?"
Drake eyes John with a bit of a "You don't have to say it" look on his face. John goes ahead explaining anyway, despite the pain that still rages within him.
"That's a bit before your time chief, I'm not sure if I should even be telling you this either. In 1995, the Mizradian vice president and three guards were sent to Alarya for diplomatic purposes. My brother was one of them, and let's just say things didn't go according to plan."
Trevor acts puzzled for a few moments before responding.
"What do you mean?"
Drake sighs before answering the young agent.
"Shit went south fast, which is why we're back in this country. I'm sure you can put the pieces together from here."
Ending the conversation, the four quietly sit waiting for the plane to arrive.

In The Interest Of Time...

Soaring over the Alaryan border, the two F-25's communicate with the plane's pilot as they approach their destination.
"Big Bird this Guardian 1-2, be advised we're approaching the airport now. Guardian 1-2 and I are going to have to break off until you exit restricted air space over."
The pilot responds to his escorts.
"Copy that Guardian 1-2, Big Bird is coming in for drop off out."
A few moments later, the pilot switches from a radio connection to the plane's PA system.
"Hello passengers, this is your captain speaking. We'll be arriving at the airport shortly, it's suggested you grab your things and pack up. Your transport will be waiting, good luck."

Shortly after, the plane begins to fall into it's descent towards the run way. Inside the fuselage, the agents pack their things and get ready to dismount. Finishing with that, they sit down and fasten their seat belts as the jet smacks into the tarmac and begins to slow down. With a rudder in the cabin as it hits the ground, the seat belt light goes off as the two guards push the stairs down to a waiting sleek black Jeep 2014 Grand Cherokee.

Stepping down the stairs and heading towards the car, Turner takes the wheel after throwing on the pair of gold trimmed aviators that have almost become his little stereotype. Slamming the door and driving off, the plane pulls back up and rejoins the fighters heading back to Mizrad. Passing by the buildings that he's become almost used to seeing, he finds that some have remained, some shops have closed and been replaced or just left an empty lot. Then growing tired of looking around and the silence in the car, he speaks up.
"So how do you plan on finding this guy? He's disappeared without a trace and managed to hide for eighteen years, and we suddenly get a call saying now they're going to start looking for him?"
Brooke, for the first time in a while responds.
"There's always a way John, although your response to everything is gunning it down in a hail of bullets some of us actually realize there's more than one way around things. It's going to be hard but, that's why they send us. So where are we going now, this isn't the way to the PD's headquarters."
Turner grins before answering his younger counterpart.
"I'm well aware of that, we're taking a bit of a short cut."
Whilst speeding up as he exits the city and begins to head towards the more open roads, John explains where they are heading.
"I remember when Harry came home, right before he was shipped out to active duty again he told me something I never forgot. It was a story, of how the Queen, at the time she wasn't the queen but still you get the point had took my brother along looking for the King. Again, at the time not the king. So anyways, they managed to evade what few security measures the palace had and make their way into the city. I'm guessing that "Escape Route" was never discovered and is still a gaping hole in the wall that is the security of the Royal Palace. I'm hoping Androma is still there, and as long as we manage to keep our presence in this country secretive to Radcliffe we might be able to do our job better than the others. Anybody who meets up at that HQ might as well be screaming that they're looking for Arthur. Understand what I mean?"
The group nods in agreement.
"Good, then we're going on a little road trip."

[Wandering Argonians]

Talen had finished the snack bar a few moments before, and hastily removed himself from the vehicle, snatching his own bag from the trunk and taking the opportunity to sling Reez's bag at him one more time was something he apparently couldn't resist. The smaller agent caught the flying bag hard against his chest. He stiffened momentarily, but otherwise made no show of discomfort. The two exchanged a glare for a second or two before breaking eye contact and taking separate routes around the vehicle and up into the ornate police station.

Reez had never been a fan of ornate structures, but this one inspired a suitable sense of awe in those that beheld it, and likely infused a sense of fear in the heart of those who considered breaking the laws enforced within. Argonian law enforcement structures and uniforms had taken such a turn lately. The facilities had a sort of gothic sense of foreboding to them, instilling a sense of dread in those who beheld them. The uniforms for the Marshland Security Service and National Police Service had become more militant over the years, especially the MSS. Military-grade body armor and assault rifles were standard issue as a rule, as they enforced laws in the absence of military forces, imposing the rule of law on savages who were every bit as well-armed and ruthless as they themselves were. NPS officers had a adopted a slightly more aggressive style of dress that wasn't quite a para-military uniform like the MSS, but was damn close.

The larger Argonian took the lead, enforcing his alpha-male demeanor with his upstart colleague once again, and began approaching the main desk, which he noted was still a ways off. The structure was truly massive, and ornately decorated. He himself was more of a fan of spartan decor and utilitarian functionality over heavy ornamentation, but this was a culture much different from his own. When they reached the receptionist, he simply greeted her and handed over his identification...

"Special Agents Kast and Reez, representing the Modernist Republic of Argonia. We're here to assist with an investigation..."

He nearly made the offer to surrender his weapon, but decided against it at the last moment. While a show of good faith, he wasn't here as an assassin or spy. He'd need his pistol if his gut was reading the situation correctly, and it was seldom wrong...