Jump Them Out Of Babylon | IC | See OOC Thread

[The Ethereal Crescent]

The air was crisp and cool, and the sun was hot. Typical early winter Crescentian weather. Absolutely perfect. Astaire Kenton jogged to the Weissman Building, the skyscraper that had once been known as the Brotherhood building and now served as the government's headquarters.

In the basement, he worked out for an hour or so, then showered and headed upstairs to his office. His office, not Aaron's. Astaire had refused to move offices after taking over the Brotherhood, although Aaron's was bigger and more impressive. Astaire's was more convenient and had a better view.

Irma Broussard was waiting in her office, just outside of his. "Good morning, Doctor," she said pleasantly. She would never get used to calling him "President."

"Good morning, Irma. Is my eight-o'-clock here?"

"Yes, Doctor. I sent her in as you requested."

"Thank you." Astaire nodded and headed into his office. Talia Thibodeaux's voluptuous frame stood silhouetted at the window. The office was only lit by the sunlight streaming through the plate glass.

"Any responses?" Astaire asked as he approached.

"No. It's early yet, Astaire."

He joined her at the window, his hands behind his back.

"How are the Johessmans?" he asked.

"Stuffing themselves full of private companies. The beast that is Acacia Heights Records will never be satiated."

Astaire nodded his approval. "And the path is set."

"Yes. It's all set. Have faith, and trust your intuition. President Kenton."

He winced a little at the title. "Take care of them, and pick carefully."

"We will."

He would not meet them today, and wouldn't for a long time. It was far too risky; he wasn't ready to show his hand just yet. They were still in Phase One.

"Good. Report back this evening."

She saluted and left his office. Few noticed her presence. In New Orleans, nothing really got started until ten or eleven o' clock.

---

Howard Thompson arrived at work early that morning. He opened his office's blinds, allowing the sun in. Such beautiful mornings were rare in Atlanta and Mobile; he was glad to have been here (for once) to witness this one. He would go out to the Thompson Towers building site later, but for now, he told his receptionist to hold his calls and set to work finalizing the designs of the luxury apartments he would soon be building.

---

Their instructions were to ask around for Alecto. They would receive head-shakes and dumbfounded looks until they asked the right person, or one of the many "right people" stationed throughout the city. Alecto's agents were disguised as cab drivers, airport workers, and even a few police officers- the sort of people one would ask directions of.

They would be directed to the offices of Girod & Bordreaux, Attorneys at Law. There, the receptionist would send them to the waiting room on the right, where they would wait for Miss Pamela Girod. It was the stuff awkward situations were made of. Once they met with Miss Girod, they would have passed Alecto's test.

[One Starr]

Jazz was in peaceful repose, though she was powerful enough to be awake should her presence have been required. But it wasn't and she allowed that which animated her to slide away, to be fully dead in her most private and massively protected quarters. That no one not of total loyalty to her, and then less than a handful of those, knew where those secure quarters were made no difference. The vault was better protected than the fabled Ft Knox and just getting there required unusual and generally rare, to say the least, abilities.

And her final protection wasn't even human. Kai might look like a handsome man of oriental extraction, but he was most definitely not. Not that this information was known to many either.

Jazz preferred secrets well kept and followed Japanese notions on how to keep them.

The rest of her retainers went about their daily activities, mainly making sure that the hidden empire that Jazz ruled with a titanium alloy hand in an infinitely soft velvet glove, stayed right where she wished it to - ever growing, every profitable, and infinitely powerful.

Though most of her public actions involved large sums donated regularly to deserving charities, Jazz abided by mortal laws only when it suited her, and while she had not the contempt for humans that many of her race had, she had no qualms about manipulating them for her benefit.

But for the moment she did not exist on the mortal plane, and would not until the setting of the sun, unless an emergency called her forth. But her many and varied wide spread nets could handle almost any emergency without contacting her, and the foreseer she employed had seen noting alarming. But that art was never truly precise and Jazz never trusted such completely.

[Darth Covetous]

The Dark Lord of the Sith walked the streets of the city. The night embraced him and he accepted its soothing touch. The night was not nearly as dark as the thoughts running through his mind.He had a name...

It seemed his talents had come to someone's attention, one who had need of them.This Alecto, he could provide some amusement to break the wretched boredom of Darth Covetous' existence. Having crushed the Order on his homeworld, he needed new challenges, new societies to subvert.

Now all that remained was to find Alecto, in a city called New Orleans. Darth Covetous had ways to make people talk...

[Wandering Argonians]

The flight over was uneventful, in the eyes of someone in his profession that was more or less perfect. Nothing blew your cover faster than some idiot trying to hijack the aircraft you were flying on, since people tended to start asking questions when you waited for him to pass your seat and simply broke his neck when he wasn't looking.

Thankfully, that scenario had stayed confined to Talen's mental fortress, his term for the place in his head he kept all of his holy-shit what-if situations confined. It was a hobby of sorts, or probably just good tradecraft. Expect the unexpected or the unlikely and you're never unpleasantly surprised.

Sitting next to him was his long-time associate and polar opposite, Kenric 'Kerry' Tereen. Talen was a man of action, a 'shooter' in cool-guy lingo. Kerry was a man of science, an 'egg-head' in Talen's lingo. Talen did most of his fighting with guns, where Kerry usually hacked a mainframe and destroyed it virally. The two shared a lot of the same skills, but each did something better than the other. Kerry could shoot, true, but Talen was the shooter. Talen could hack, but Kerry was most definitely the hacker. It worked pretty well so far, and this new assignment shouldn't be too different.

They'd asked around for a guy named 'Alecto', and been directed to a law firm. Odd, but such things were the stuff of covert operations. The two Argonians sat in the waiting room quietly, Talen dressed in a pair of jeans and a black leather jacket to ward off the chilly edge in the night air as well as hide the small Glock 26 semi-automatic with the short surpressor can hanging under his left arm. His trusty Kizylar fighting knife was crudely attatched to his belt at the small of his back, the sheath taped to the nylon belt he was wearing. What were obviously hiking boots were on his feet, giving the impression that wearing anything other than tactical gear was unfamiliar for him. He looked like a 1950's biker, the tattoos working up his neck, just barely visible above the neck line of the white t-shirt didn't help matters, either.

Kerry was also rather incognito, khaki cargo pants and a blue hooded sweatshirt gave him a less threatening look than Talen's West-Side Story throwback clothing choices. The small titanium-shell laptop on his lap cast a faint glow. Kerry hadn't been born in the marshes, he'd been a city kid. Hence, no tribal ink. The faint pattering of his scaly fingers on the keyboard was the only sound, barring the occasional snort from Talen. Kerry got bored easily, and had set himself to the task of cracking the local traffic network before the battery in his custom-built laptop died. He'd done that in about five minutes, and found a back-door to the city's police networks. Poking around in the cold-case files was interesting, if only for a few minutes. It was a little too quiet, however...

"So is what they say, true?"

"Huh?"

Talen really hadn't been paying attention. He really didn't expect Kerry to say something, either...

"That once you're a Jet, you're a Jet for life?"

Talen just turned his head to glare at his partner...

"And how's Maria doing?"

There was slight smile on Kerry's face, he enjoyed taunting Talen about as much as he was enjoying rifling through the payroll files down at Metro PD...

"Screw you, Ker..."

Kerry just laughed softly at Talen's remark. They'd been sitting in the waiting room for about fifteen minutes now, waiting to speak to a Miss Pamela Gerod. This Alecto fellow was beginning to annoy Talen a bit. He was a former government agent, with a rental car full of fun tactical tools and an itch to use them. Yet here he sat, enduring the boredom and the verbal barbs of his tech-wizard comrade about his clothing choices...

[Imitora]

In a place where life didn't start to shake free the bonds of sleep till something short of ten, life became very difficult for a man like Priest. At six am, he had already finished a five mile work up run, done his complete work out routine, jumped in the hotel pool and swam a few hundred yards, and showered and dressed. The suit was, for all intents and purposes Wal Mart cheap, but it had a unique feel to it. While it couldn't pass for even a decent name brand set up, the black jacket and pants, crimson red shirt, and matching tie moved effortlessly with Priest as he strode through the main reception area of The First Bank of the Crescent.

Spencer Priest wore the suit well, but it wasn't what he was used to. Ninety percent of the time, he was in cargo pants or jeans and a well made, muted colored tee shirt underneath his MOLLE gear and weapons. However, the suit fit him well, and perfectly concealed the Browning Hi Power tucked away in an over the shoulder holster underneath his left arm, and the two mag pouches under his right. It also kept the Heckler and Koch USP 45 on his right hip hidden equally well in conjunction with the FBI slant holster. The suit maker never promised Armani or better quality. However, The Shooter's Closet specialized in creating deep cover clothing, promising the end users of their clothes that they would never print, never show, and never worry about a suit coat, sports jacket, tuxedo pant or shirt, or any other form of clothing giving away the weapon on the wearer.

But Spence wasn't in New Orleans to test out the newest line in The Shooter's Closet gear. He was their to attempt diplomacy, of sorts. The Imitoran government would just as soon send a real diplomat to work with the over all legitimate government of The Ethereal Crescent. Col. Waikes had called it "defensive diplomacy", the act of sending the military to work out a working relationship between the private individuals of the populace and the Imitoran government. While Spence, Aaron, and the soon to be retired First Speaker Fortier had no doubt that the TEC government could handle certain domestic and international threats, it didn't mean that they couldn't test the waters themselves.

He slid the Oakley Crosshairs from his face, folded them, and slid them into the internal jacket pocket. The weight of the sunglasses was oddly reassuring, almost more so of the weight of the two hand guns and four magazines hanging off his athletic build. He looked older than the 38 years he had actually aged, but it would have been expected knowing his background. He could have cared less if his ex had been incinerated in the fires of hell after The Incident. Hell, he would have done it himself. But the majority of his rather substantial, for his position, pay check still went to a number of firms for trying to confirm his daughter's fate. To be painfully honest to those he asked, he wasn't sure how much longer he would keep paying and just accept what had happened. He pushed the thoughts creeping into his head away, and returned his focus to the matter at hand.

He felt like a cheap sales man with the approach, but it had worked in the past. Spence finished the walk across the reception area, and pulled a crisp, off white business card from his pocket. He handed it to the receptionist, and offered a smile that was somewhere between flirty and simply polite. It was, to those who had dealt with them in the past, the well known and stereotypical Imitoran smirk, a social cue that on one hand said "I am truly and honestly pleased to meet you" and on the other "if I can't sleep with you or fight you, you are of no use to me". The business card wasn't meant to impress, but simply identify, and it held no special terms or attempts at inducing respect. Simply, it consisted of the insignia of the Imitoran Marine Corp, and beneath that Sgt. Spencer Priest, and beneath that a somewhat redundant IMC.

"Spencer Priest," he introduced himself. His accent was clearly eastern Imitoran, a mix English with a slight back hint of Irish, as most settlers from the eastern parts of Old Imitora had descended. "I'd like to speak with the manager, if possible. I'm afraid I don't have an appointment."

[Tanaara]

Near –Peaceful quietude ruffled only by the muted metallic ring as naginata met naginata, the soft shuffle of feet, a sharp exhale, the almost inaudible swish of silk moving quickly. The dojo was a pace of disciplined serenity, for all the whirlwind of activity within.

Far – but vastly more muted by more than mere distance – the sounds of automobile, the exuberance of exploring tourists - some already drunk even though it was but early afternoon. But then again the Quarter was known for such an effect on casual visitors, something inviting a loss of equilibrium.

“You’re spending the night with him”

Dark violet eyes blinked slowly, as the owner of those eyes moved with fluid speed to initiate an masterful attack “How do you know?” More than faint curiosity, but no disbelief

“You’re more aggressive,” A moment’s pause as the other’s naginata deflects the attack but barely. Though barely is all that is needed “You always are, in anticipation”

“Damn” The curse was completely lacking in heat, the tone almost meditative.

The two combatants bowed respectfully to one another and stepped back, both knowing that the sparring session had ended – and as it most always did, in a draw.

“I’ve never mentioned”

“Talisman, we’ve been sparring for what?” The smaller woman lifted her long mass of onyx hair to let an errant breeze cool the back of her neck as she looked over at an incredibly ancient - for a feline – tiger striped cat stretched, boneless, in a puddle of hot afternoon sunlight

“We met at Stripes ... first birthday party? We’ve been sparring for what? “ She stopped as she measured out human time spans, half quirking a smile as she realized how long it had been, “ twenty five years..” Neither woman looked to be older than her mid twenties one had to note.

The taller woman gave a small grin, her voice half chuckling as she considered the passage of time. “You’re right, Nari, that was that long ago”

Talisman moved over to the weapons racks, sliding her custom forged naginata – the ‘sword on a stick’ gleaming in the lights – it’s ‘stick’ being Appalachian Hickory - into it’s usual resting place as Nari moved to rack hers. Custom forged as well, it was slightly shorter than Talismans, but it’s shaft was lightning struck white oak. Nari could barely count five and a half foot in respectable two inch heels, while flat footed Talisman was hairs over six foot.

Nari pressed the issue as they exited the dojo proper, heading for the changing rooms. “He’s not good for you.” It wasn’t censure or personal opinion, but mere statement of fact. He was a Greater Demon, and she an Angel. True she was one lost to the Celestial Realms, and he had abandoned Hel, but the fact was that they both reacted, one to the other, each’s mere presence bringing the other pain.

Talisman gave Nari a sideways glance but Nari did not look away, though she said nothing more. It really hadn’t been her place in the first – for while they were long comfortable with one another- close as sisters in many ways- both also had private places in their lives that not even the other was allowed in.

Showered and changed they left by the door that wasn’t there, stepping out into the inner courtyard of Nari’s shop. "Spar tomorrow?"

"We''ll see" Talisman was more busy anticipating the night to come than contemplating the day after.

[The Ethereal Crescent]

"We've got two so far, boss."

The man on the flat-screen frowned. The action brought the sharp lines that made up his face into even sharper focus. "I suppose when one deals with as unreliable a medium as word-of-mouth, one should expect the unreliability of arrival times."

Pamela folded her hands in front of her. "Have you seen something?"

"According to my visions, we can expect help from three or four more persons later."

Pamela nodded, causing the blonde bun at the back of her head to bob. "Then may I let in these two gentlemen? They've been waiting a while."

"Yes, please do."

Pamela turned off the screen and went back out to the waiting room. "Please come with me, gentlemen."

The next room was a boardroom, with the obligatory long table and chairs. At the other side of the room, on the wall, was a large flat-screen television. The walls were lined with bookcases filled with legal texts and encyclopedias. The entire room must have been carved out of a massive cherry oak.

"Please, have a seat," Pamela said as she picked up a remote. The TV clicked on, revealing a slender, black-haired man seated at a desk.

The man gave a slight nod. The intensity of his bright blue eyes also indicated that he could see the occupants of the boardroom.

"Thank you for coming," he said. "You can call me Alecto. I presume you're here because you're interested in helping me with my little mission. I'll tell you more about that shortly." He wanted to get an idea of the type of men he was dealing with before this went any further. "First, I'd like to hear a bit about who you are and how you wound up here."

---

The receptionist raised an eyebrow at Priest, but pressed a button on her desk phone and said, "Mr. Hammond, there's a Sgt. Spencer Priest here to see you. Imitoran."

The phone crackled. "Hmmph." A pause. Then, "I've got a few minutes. Send him in."

The receptionist hung up the loudspeaker. "Through this door, please."

Inside, B. Millard Hammond, a graying and significantly overweight man, fumbled with a few papers on his desk. Looking up at Priest, he said, "Millard Hammond, the manager. A pleasure. How may I help you today?"

[Darth Covetous]

The Dark Lord was itching to torture the driver of the yellow vehicle but it seemed unnecessary when the information he asked was freely given.He needed to find the law office of Girod & Bordreaux. Easy enough on this world, information seemed much more available than in his own Dominion.

He had looked it up in a public index on a planetary network known here as the Internet. Darth Covetous strutted a bit as he strode in to the small brick structure that housed his opportunity for amusement. He liked his new look he had adopted for this planet. He wore black leather pants, a leather jacket, and gloves. His feral yellow eyes were eager as he strutted across the floor. Long raven black hair and steel toed boots completed his look. He usually wore a black tunic and cloak.

He approached the receptionist. "You will direct me to Alecto" he said allowing the Force to flow into her mind and manipulate her.
"I will direct you to Alecto" she repeated.
"He will be happy you brought me to him" Darth Covetous guided her.
"He will be happy I brought you to him" she answered.
"Right this way, follow me" he supplied.
"Right this way, follow me" she intoned as she lead him to the boardroom. She then returned to her desk.

"So who among you is Alecto?" asked the Dark Lord of the Sith after entering the room. His lupine eyes taking in the scene.

[The Ethereal Crescent]

An amused smirk crossed the countenance of the man on the TV. "Welcome- have a seat. I am Alecto." He swept his hand out to indicate the other two gentlemen. "We were just getting to know each other. Care to introduce yourself?"

[Allbeama]

The Dark Lord laughed. This man could offer much amusement.
"I am Darth Covetous. I have heard that my skills have been asked for in some matter of importance to you?"

He ran his fingers through his dark hair as he took a seat at the table. He looked around the room once more. His lupine eyes turned on the man who proclaimed himself to be Alecto. "So what is the mission, pray tell?"

[Imitora]

Millard Hammond, the manager. A pleasure. How may I help you today?

Spence extended his hand, and offered a firm, yet challenge free handshake. "Spencer Priest, sir. The pleasure is mine."

"Mr. Hammond, I'd like to speak with you on just a few simple matters. First, I'm going to be staying here in The Ethereal Crescent for an as of yet undetermined amount of time. Business, unfortunately, and working matters of various sorts. As such, I'll need to be opening an account for myself and my associates to cover expenses. Now, I'm aware that the account itself may not be the largest you have, based on my own research of your bank, but it will be substantial. I'm expecting a weekly deposit of the equivalent of fifty thousand US a week. Monies still in the account at the end of our stay would be used for local investment purposes. I could go through one of your account representatives, but I'd like to keep this most quiet.

"My employer," Spence added, sliding his card across the desk, "is not going to be doing the deposits. As such, that leads me to my desire to keep this very confidential."

He removed a pen from an inner jacket pocket to sign any papers and fill out any forms that would follow.

"That being said, my secondary employer has made it clear that all is not well in Denmark, if you will. Now then, I have the utmost confidence that your operation is nowhere near as a unfavorably discriminant as some may claim. That being said, it is not much of a stretch to identify your establishment as a target of opportunity for certain groups who may not think on the same level as you and I. Therefore, I would like to offer you the services of my self and associates. We maintain a skill set that is, to say, rather unique and yet pertinent to the situation."

[Wandering Argonians]

Both Talen and Kerry followed the receptionist into the the room, taking seats next to each other. The screen routine wasn't anything new, but they'd been expecting a live meeting. Then again, given Talen's reputation perhaps this sort of thing was safer. Argonian government agents were usually rumored to be assassins, and in most cases that was true. Talen was one of the agency's best marksmen, boasting the largest number of long-distance kills of high-value targets.

Perhaps they'd heard of him, perhaps not. Perhaps they didn't trust anyone at all. No matter. They were here, and there was business to discuss. They hadn't been frisked either, but Talen was the only one armed. Kerry's most potent weapon had always been his laptop, and that was now tucked under his left arm, more or less hidden in the folds of his sweatshirt...

"So finally we meet. I'm Talen and this is Kerry, we're both formerly employees of the Argonian government. We've also both got pretty specific skill sets that aren't very useful in mainstream society..."

Talen seemed to be royally fucking up the intro with his macho bullshit, so Kerry cut in...

"What he means to say is that we'd be helpful to someone in your position. I myself am quite handy with anything computer related and Talen provides the needed muscle for whatever operations you might devise. Unfortunately, he's right. There isn't much of a market for retired government agents in decent society, and as such we expect to be compensated for our services..."

Kerry's partner had taken to staring at the slightly younger Argonian with a look of displeasure. He didn't like being interrupted, especially by the tech-weasel, no matter how eloquently he spoke...

"Yeah, what he said. I blow shit up that you need destroyed, and you pay me for the work I do. Pretty straight forward..."

There was a pause, Talen staring straight into the face on the computer screen, and Kerry staring aimlessly around the room at the impressive construction as he more or less lost interest in the conversaton. He was eager to get to work, or at the very least find something a little more dynamic than sitting in a chair to do...

"So I guess it's your turn, Alecto. What's the job?"

Talen reclined back in the chair a little bit, crossing his powerful arms across his broad chest and adopting a neutral posture. A paycheck was the only thing keeping him from being the one the other guys hired to hunt down this guy and give him an extra nose-hole courtesy of Mr. Glock 26 and his merry band of 9mm subsonic hollowpoints. Nothing personal, but he knew where his bread was buttered. Alecto, however, had the benefit of making the first offer and being able to make one Hell of a sales pitch for whatever lost cause he'd recruited the two of them for. Argonians were loyal to a fault in most cases, and while money was the driving force behind their excursion to this quaint little nation both Kerry and Talen were generally good people, and Talen in particular was a sucker for an impossible mission...

[The Ethereal Crescent]

"Therefore, I would like to offer you the services of my self and associates."

Hammond raised his eyebrows. "That's an interesting offer. Very tempting as well. I suppose I shouldn't ask how you came across such information, and leave it as a testament to your skills."

He folded his hands, then reached into a file and pulled out some paperwork, and handed it to Priest.

"Your request for an account is accpeted. Here is the paperwork necessary to make it happen. Since you're after secrecy, I will establish the account myself." At least he would have something to do other than sit in his office and down coffee all day.

"As for your offer.... I will have to discuss it with the other directors and officers, but I think it is safe to say that it is accepted. I would like to hear a bit more about your methods and anything you might know. We are aware that there are certain people quite high on the food chain that would like to witness our demise, but we are unaware of any steps they are taking to make it happen."


"So I guess it's your turn, Alecto. What's the job?"

Alecto gave something that resembeld a smile. "The job is quite simple. It is how we will accomplish it that is more confusing.

"There are certain factions here in the Crescent that yield much power and control the majority of our money. They are small, but determined to hang on to their way of life. Meanwhile, they are corrupting the rest of the population, causing them to chase after goals not their own, and live beyond their means.

"We are going to lay the foundation for destroying these factions. Let's start with a couple of my favorites.

"Howard Thompson is an out-of-towner, a billionaire who has made his fortune from selling extravagance. He recently won a bid to build an apartment tower near here. It will contain high-end lofts, and will be the tallest building in the Crescent upon completion. That's all well-known. A less known fact is that the land the building is being constructed on is unstable.

"The first several yards of soil here are mud and muck. There are stipulations regarding where heavy structures can be built. Thompson somehow managed to get around that, and knocked down a small, poor neighborhood so he could have his apartments."

Alecto's eyes were flashing with fury now, not at the people in the room but at the corruption of this Howard Thompson. "We can't simply kill the man, and there is little I can do here. I need fresh faces to get into Thompson's offices and find the paperwork from Broussard Foundations. They were the group that found the ground to be unstable." He spread his hands. "I'm gambling that the paperwork is still there somewhere. It may be, it may also be electronic, or it may be long gone."

He paused before continuing.

"The second target is the First Bank of the Crescent. They control the vast majority of Crescentian money, and almost all of it belongs to super-wealthy clients. I want to engineer a bank failure. For that, I will have to break up the board of directors and replace them with my own people.

"I'm thinking of assigning you gentlemen- Talen and Kerry- to Howard Thompson. That job might require computer skills and a touch of muscle. Let me know if this is agreeable. You will all be compensated handsomely during and after your work.

"Covetous, I think you will enjoy felling the bank. You can devise your own way to disperse the directors using your 'skills.' Pamela, the files, please."

Pamela reached behind an oversized book and pulled out six files, and gave two to each gentleman, one each of Thompson and of First Bank. "Here is some preliminary, fairly public information on both targets," Pamela said as she handed them out. "Please have a look at them and tell us what you prefer."

Each file contained the location of each main office, brief biographies of the major players, and their market stats, which all matched up to what Alecto had just described.

[Wandering Argonians]

Talen cracked the folder open, flipping through it until he found a photo of Howard Thompson. He stared at it for a moment before looking up at the screen again over the edge of the folder...

"So we can't kill this asshole? Or you don't want us to?"

The former government operative closed the folder gently, laying it on the table in front of him...

"I kill people. It's what I do. I'm pretty good at it, too. I can also bring down the apartment complex pretty easily as well, considering the ground it's built on. I'm guessing we're supposed to play this clean? Otherwise I can go to town with a tomahawk and you can own this place in under a month..."

Kerry interjected for a moment as well...

"If the company in question has this information on any sort of server connected to the local internet I can probably have them for you within the hour..."

The hacker hadn't fully read the packet presented to him, more or less a quick thumb-through. If that sort of information was in there he hadn't seen it. If it wasn't, they'd have to plan and execute an infiltration under the cover of darkness since Argonians probably weren't the most common sight in a mostly-human country. That wouldn't be an issue but the chances of success were slimmer and the consqeunces much more severe...

[Darth Covetous]

The Dark Lord read the information before him. This format of data was so primitive, but it told him what he needed to know. His eyes burned in anticipation as a myriad of dark violent thoughts crossed his mind.

"I will indeed enjoy bringing this bank down into ruin. I have but one further question? How clean do I have to leave the bodies?" He said as a wicked smile lit his face in sadistic glee. He laughed as only a psychopath can laugh. This would be an amusing diversion, one worthy of the Sith Lord.

"How soon should I start the fun?" asked Darth Covetous rising from his seat. Feral eyes excited, like a cat ready to pounce on its prey.

[Imitora]

I would like to hear a bit more about your methods and anything you might know. We are aware that there are certain people quite high on the food chain that would like to witness our demise, but we are unaware of any steps they are taking to make it happen.

"To be blunt, Mr. Hammond, we can't be one hundred percent sure. The spooks are working on that as we speak, but getting an invite or infiltrator into any of the groups has thus far proved difficult. They like to handle things in a quiet, subtle way, while myself and my men tend to be a bit more upfront about things."

Spencer took the sheets and began to fill out the needed information. The black pen, a hundred dollar rip off of a higher quality Monte Blanc, danced easily over the paper. Spencer had gotten used to filling out paper work, he had started with Aegis as a contract administrator before talking his way out into the field. There had also been the reams he had filled out after his escape from a Sierra Libertad prison, but that was something different. The lawyers had been the first people to welcome him back to the real world, and they were to make very sure he didn't start suing anyone or bringing certain information of Aegis's involvement in the rescue to public light.

"If history is anything to go off," he spoke, not looking up from the forms, "we are looking at a multi front approach. These aren't like the religious groups, though we estimate the same fervor and drive. We aren't expecting much in the way of suicide bombings or shooting up schools, it wont fit their Modus Operandi. The guys and girls involved in the "figure out the terrorist" business have been saying they are much more like the sociopolitical groups from the seventies and eighties. Not quite IRA, but same general ideas. Social change, redistribution of resources, bring down the status quo. Why? We aren't sure. Some people just like to think their way of life is better than what works, and instead of going about the usual way of lobbying and protesting and writing their representatives and the like, they decide to just mess up life for everyone around them.

"I can't say for sure what type of attacks to expect, but if I were in their shoes, it would be a joint movement. On one hand, a straight forward attack should be expected, but not any sort of extreme violence. It would do their operations no good to alienate the populace by killing them. Infiltration must also be expected. Any strange faces trying to move onto the board, or other executive positions should be observed. We've seen it in the past, individuals and agents placing themselves in positions of power just to bring down the structure from the inside. It is difficult, but doable. If they have any sort of major intelligence operatives on their team, this would be the main form of attack. My team and I can handle the first, but the second is more difficult to defend against. Finally, technological attacks should also be fully expected. I have a few self proclaimed "computer geeks" on my team, but this is the one area I highly recommend you high out to a trusted, and well trained, information security firm. These attacks could be anything from that old taking a small percent of every transaction to freezing accounts and "erasing" monies in accounts.

Priest quietly set the pen down on the paper, and looked Hammond in the eye. His green eyes expressed a strange sorrow that reflected the years upon years of death he had seen. But yet there was no discomfort in this sorrow. There was no enjoyment in taking another human's life, but Spencer Priest was good at it, and so he performed his job dutifully. He had once read that every man had a purpose on this planet, and his was soldiering of the special nature.

"As far as our skill set? It is far reaching." His tone was not bragging, boasting of abilities that he had, but honest and straight forward.

"Physical security obviously. We can do both on site, and close protection of bank executives. Everything from a few well dressed men within arms reach to a twenty foot bubble. I fear I must say that fate is a strange mistress, and at any point she may decide to reach out and snuff out the light of a single person, but my team and I can greatly improve the odds if they attempt an upfront attack. We have the means and technology to combat terrorists before they strike. I can offer a full rundown to you and the rest of the bank executives, but at the very least we can establish a presence in and around the facility that will remain low key, and yet capable of responding to any threats that attempt on the lives of your clients, or the day to day operations of the facility. Further, that same protection can be extended to the executives in the form of a discrete close protection detail.

"I've also been authorized to offer our direct action capabilities. I don't mean to have you think that we can operate as a private army, we are but slightly more than a squad sized element, but we have the training, the experience, the equipment, and overall the ability to respond to certain scenarios that most police and many private security firms just do not. While I'm not sure my commanding officers, or employers at all, would appreciate us out shooting it up with the bad guys in the streets, we are capable and willing to move to that level to ensure your security. The best way to stop terrorism is to win the hearts and minds of the people. The best way to fight it is with a straight forward approach. You and the other executives have no need to worry about myself or my men going off like loose cannons, but you can rest assured that if we have a chance to move on the cell, we will, and will do so with no connections to your operations or business at all.

"Finally, I can recommend a few firms for technological security."

Priest picked up the pen and jotted down a phone number on the business card. "This is a direct line to my cell phone. On my end, the number is encrypted and scrambled, so it should be secure for the most part. The brains in the spook labs are always cooking up new ways to get around it, and protect from getting around it, but it is what we have. If you need to get in touch with me, feel free to call. If you have anyone else you think would be a target, have them call."

Spencer moved the pen back into his pocket, his hand brushing against the over the shoulder holster and the Browning. It offered a strange security, a presence that felt like a guardian angel. He held back a sigh, and for the first time this morning, he felt the full weight of the weapons on him.

"I'm sorry we had to meet under these circumstances," Spence finished. His eyes relayed the sincerity in his statement. "I don't play politics, Mr. Hammond. I'm a soldier, I just fall back on my training and finish up the job I'm assigned. However, in my rather short time on this planet, I have yet to see any situation where the actions we are watching this group for are, in anyway, justifiable. They are going to hurt innocent people just because they don't like the situation. And in my life, I've found that just isn't right."

Spencer stood, and smiled. "I've learned in this life that there are no certainties, other than death and taxes, and even those can be toyed with. I cannot promise you that nothing will happen, but I can assure you that, should your board decide to move ahead with this, my team and I will do everything in our power to not only protect you and the bank, but the patrons as well. I understand you need to discuss this with the rest of your colleagues, but I look forward to hearing from you."

Priest moved towards the door, feeling as a successful any salesman could. He would have preferred the diplomats handle all the meet and greets, setting up the details, and the like. But this one had gone well, and making in roads was always the first step.

[The Ethereal Crescent]

"Yes, thank you," Hammond replied as Priest began to leave.

Hammond thought deeply as Priest walked out. There was no question that this man and his team would be of immense value to him and First Bank. Now, however, to talk to the directors.

He dialed out to his receptionist. "Sherry, please arrange a meeting immediately. Have them all here by one this afternoon.

"Yes, Mr. Hammond." The receptionist knew this translated as "call an emergency meeting of the directors and officers."

"Excellent." He hung up the phone, picked up the forms and started arranging the account.

---

"So we can't kill this asshole? Or you don't want us to?"

On the screen, Alecto raised an eyebrow at Pamela, inquiring, Thompson? She walked over to Talen- her voluptuous frame swayed a bit as she walked- and looked over his shoulder. She nodded at the screen in confirmation.

Alecto sighed. "I would prefer that no harm came to him. He is a public figure, after all, both here and abroad. Killing him would be perfectly easy, but if it were that simple, it would have been done already.

"So yes, this job must be played clean. There will be others if this one goes well- and more compensation, I might add."

He looked at Kerry. "I'm sorry I don't have more information for you regarding the location of the documents. My people have done a surface exam and found nothing, which is why we need you to look deeper."


"How soon should I start the fun?"

Alecto couldn't hide a grin at Covetous' excitement. Talen would be a bit miffed at the lack of bodies for him to kill, but Covetous had clearly been the right one for the bank job.

"You may all start tonight. Covetous, the first person in your file, Samuel Guillote, is your first job. There is more than enough information there for you to find him. Do only as much as is necessary.

"As you are all newcomers, I have enclosed maps of the city toward the back of those files. The places you will need to know- the bank, the apartments, and your lodgings- are clearly marked on them.

"Talen and Kerry, you will have rooms at the Westin on Canal Place. Use the IDs Pamela will give you to get in. Covetous, same for you, but at the Marionette House. It is smaller and less classy than the W, but you will blend in, and likely feel more comfortable, there."

Pamela handed each man a driver's license with a fake name and a photo of a similar-looking person. They had been made minutes ago by the receptionist. Each of them also got a business card with Pamela's name, work address, and work and cell phone numbers.

"You can call me if you need anything at all, at any time," Pamela told them. Giving them her cards was completely safe, because, currently unbeknownst to them, Pamela Girod did not exist.

Alecto folded his hands. "Unless there are any more questions, you are all free to go. Thank you, and welcome to New Orleans."

[Darth Covetous]

" I trust my own definition of 'necessary' will suffice?" asked the Dark Lord as he ran his fingers through his hair. His eyes burning with a psychotic hunger, he read over the file on his first little plaything.

He mused over the information before him. Guillote, this man was called. Darth Covetous grinned. This would be all too easy. He hoped in his black heart that he was wrong.

He was prepared to do this. He would assassinate this man. The thought of violence was enough to inspire a deep joy within him. The Dark Side beckoned to him and he would heed the call.

" If you do not mind I will begin this mission immediately." Darth Covetous announced, letting his hate fill every word and expression.

[Wandering Argonians]

Talen nodded, tucking the ID into his jacket pocket and rolling the folder of information for easier transport. Kerry had already gotten up to leave, he was eager to start cracking into whatever secure network this Thompson fellow had for his secure files. If all else failed, it was also easy for Talen to work his way into the office area and look around.

Goodbyes were said, and the pair piled back into the small rental they'd packed with tools of the trade, most of it Talen's since Kerry didn't need four pounds of C4 to hack into a secure computer network. The trunk contained, among other things, both of their infiltration rigs. Consisting of a set of body armor, a Glock 17 with a threaded barrel, a Knight's Armament Corporation PDW, and a rather extensive lockpick kit, they both made modifications based on their individual needs but the core components were exactly the same...

"Let's get going. We need to unload this friggin' compact car before some asshole steals it, along with all of our stuff..."

"True. Then again I really don't think you need the anti-material rifle for this operation..."

"You can never have too much firepower, besides you never know when you might need to pick off a dignitary in an armored limo or enagage an armored personnel carrier..."

"I doubt you're going to be doing either this time around. Hence it's an extra forty pounds we don't have a clear use for..."

"But we do. You can't kill something much deader than a 25mm armor-piercing-incindiary round to the face, and some things just need to be really, really dead..."

"You should listen to yourself talk sometimes. It's entertaining..."

"What?"

"Never mind..."

[The Ethereal Crescent]

If you do not mind I will begin this mission immediately.

Alecto nodded to the gentlemen as they left, then replied to Covetous. "Don't be hasty. Guillote is at work right now, surrounded by armed guards and coworkers, and while I am sure that you could handle taking them all out, I'd rather you didn't get caught before your usefulness is ended. Wait until nightfall."

He purposely did not answer the question regarding a definition of "necessary." He recognized the deep anger and hatred in Covetous. It was something he himself had to battle, but he had to keep it reined in. No reason to stop a fellow psycho from letting loose.

"Now, I suggest that you acquaint yourself with the area. This city is quite a different beast at night, but that doesn't mean you should just leave it to guesswork. Pamela will be available if you have any questions."

---

Night fell quickly this time of year. Fortunately, though, the skies were clear, and the breeze provided only a slight chill. A perfect night for going out.

In many places, even in the Crescent, nightfall meant winding-down time, preparation for rest. But in New Orleans, the city was just bursting to life. Bourbon Street was packed with tourists, and Frenchmen Street was packed with locals. The stench of alcohol overuse permeated the air, and those mystery puddles Bourbon is famous for began to appear.

Howard Thompson decided to call a few local buddies and meet up at a gentlemen's club. His office was sealed up and completely quiet. Occasionally, the LED on the security cameras gave a soft red blink, indicating that they were still sending footage to the DVR in the secretary's office.

The First Bank was also closed, but much better guarded. In addition to cameras, five uniformed officers patrolled the front door, the lobby and the safes. Everyone else had left for the evening.

As usual, Guillote could be found eating and drinking his cares away at Superior Grill on St. Charles Avenue. As usual, around two o'clock, he would begin his awkward drive home to the oversized house he owned in the Lower Garden District, arriving ten minutes later if he didn't crash into something along the way.

[Imitora]

Spence had spent the rest of the day working his way through the city. A handful of his team had met him at the McDonald's off Canal, and they put together a recce plan. Splitting into groups of two and three, they walked New Orleans, learning the pulse and feel of the city. They walked Bourbon, Royal, and Iberville. Spence and two of his best walked lower St. Charles a number of times to learn the area directly around the bank. Using public information, Eek, Spence's computer genius, put together a map with the humint to create an evac plan if they needed to get out fast, and then started putting together more plans: where to pick up the directors if they needed pick up, how to get them to and from the bank, and how to get them the hell out of dodge.

Spence, Deek, Eek, and two other Marines were setting up the ten hotel rooms reserved at the Royal Sonesta when Spence's phone chirped. He snatched the Samsung off his desk and clicked talk, holding the slider to his ear. "Talk to me."

"Yeah boss man, its Donny. We are down on Canal, and well, I got somethin' you might wanna see."

The phone chirped again, alerting Spence that he had received a picture. He took a look at the screen, and then began speaking.

"Good find D Man, that why your my eyes on the ground. I'll talk to ya mate."

He snapped the phone shut and tossed to Deacon "Deek" Hays, his second in command. "Take a look Deek."

"Well, fuck me twice on half price Friday, we got Argonians in town?"

"Looks that way."

The rest of the day was spent preparing the hotel rooms, hiding weapons in case they had to put up a fight and their main weapons were confiscated, reinforcing doors and windows, checking phones for taps, looking for cameras, and scanning for other bugs. Phone calls were made back to locations in Imitora, and hardly a minute after the account at First Bank had been opened an initial $500,000 deposit was dropped in, and moments later another: the first of the weekly $50,000.

Finally, they made watch plans, and prepared to end their first day. Spence had been used to working on low levels of sleep, so he took the last watch, and grabbed a bed in one of the rooms to nap. A small vibration in his wrist watch woke him long after the sun had set. He dressed more casually now, a light weight short sleeved button down linen shirt and a pair of leans. The dressy black shoes had been shod for a pair of Puma sneakers. However, the comforting weight of the H&K still rested on his hip, and he walked leisurely down Bourbon. All he could hope is that his next visit here wouldn't be done in the world of military operations.

Priest's pace wasn't slow, but relaxed, and he smiled but shook off the promoters of the numerous bars and adult clubs as he walked. He waved off offers for drinks, and despite the craving for a good drink, stayed out of the bars. He hooked over at St. Anne Street, and started walking towards the river. He relished in the quieter, more subdued side street, and was soon out by Jackson Square. His goal was to get a good feel of the city at night, and get a feel for the pulse of the city at night.

[Wandering Argonians]

Talen and Kerry had long since unloaded the small car of its operational goodies, stacking them in a few neat piles in the living room of the empty apartment.

Kerry had hooked his laptop up to a larger free-standing apparatus, a powerful decryption processor capable of cracking complex ciphers. He'd taken an hour or so wirelessly jack himself into the building's computer-controlled sub-systems like water, sewage, and electrical controls. Like he'd suspected, the security system was on a seperate network, and it took him a few moments to back-door his way in. After a few deft mouse-clicks and some keystrokes Kerry had the footage looping, the DVR hooked to the monitor showing the same empty office as it had prior. The other half of the screen displayed a schematic of the building itself, to include Johnson's office. Kerry usually stayed in touch with Talen via an ear-piece, and such was the case now. Kerry's Glock 17, the full-sized 9x19mm standard-issue sidearm of his former agency, sat close at hand. The apartment door was locked, but it wasn't exactly sturdy. Kerry had stacked a few pelican cases holding Talen's spare ammo in front of it, making it a little harder to kick in.

Talen, however, had dressed himself in black and taken the car to the infiltration site. It wasn't his preferred ninja-suit, but then again it didn't look like a ninja suit either. If someone saw him it'd be a little easier to explain why he was doing what he was doing, without having to dump a body later. The slightly-faded tactical pants and black t-shirt with a subdued tribal pattern running down the right side gave him a bit of a thuggish look, but it beat his previous clothing choices pretty soundly. The shoulder holster was still present, cradling the small surpressed Glock 26 securely. Getting into the building itself wasn't hard. Slipping past the roving security guard was easy, and getting to the stairwell kept him out of sight.

Johnson's office was on the top floor, accessed by an elevator, and according to fire code, a flight of stairs. Talen used the second option, preferring to stick to less-used means of travel. The stair-well door creaked open, unsurprisingly. It didn't seem to get much use. Kerry's voice was in his ear...

"OK, the office is just up ahead, probably locked. You're going to have to pick your way in..."

The soft soles of his boots made little noise as he padded across the exquisite marble floors to the glass doors of the office proper. Talen had never understood the purpose of glass walls or doors, but he wasn't an architect. It was pretty easy for him to get into someplace that had walls that shattered without much effort, and he eyed the nice stainless steel trash bin nearby for a moment before deciding that it'd be too noisy and messy to smash his way in. Pulling a few probes from the lockpick kit on his belt, he stuck two between his teeth and wedged the other two into the lock itself. After a few moments of feeling the pins and tumblers out, the mechanical lock popped open and Talen moved into the office itself...

"Ker, I'm in the office area, but Johnson's private office is electronically locked..."

"Just a second, T..."

There was a pattering of keys in the background and suddenly the red light on the door glowed green, allowing Talen to push it open and walk inside. Within was one of the more ornate workspaces Talen had seen. His own Director's office, from both he and Kerry's former agency, had been a pretty spartan affair. A desk, two chairs, and a book-case on either side. Maybe a few marksmanship awards and old photos, but nothing like this. The desk itself had to have been one huge piece of wood, obviously carved by hand, and obviously worth more than the rental car they'd arrived in. The bookshelves were of similar material and make, the details as perfect as perfect could be.

Talen couldn't say he was impressed, but he did respect the kind of cash required to pull an office like this off. Peeking under the desk, he found an equally beautiful safe. It was silent as the grave in the office itself, allowing Talen to place his ear-fin against the safe proper and listen for the tiny ticks in the combination lock. Using a grease-pencil, Talen scribbled the numbers on the surface of the safe to keep track of them, until the thing finally gave way and the door swung open. The documents within were numerous, and it took Talen a moment to locate what he was after. A few quick scrubs took the numbers off the face of the safe, and since Argonians lacked fingerprints he had little worry of leaving that sort of evidence behind.

Papers tucked in his pocket, Talen peeked over the desk before he made his move to leave...

[Darth Covetous]

The Dark Lord had been busy the rest of the day. Laying his attack plans and acquiring an array of local weaponry. He had bought several combat knives, a pistol(a .45), a bandoleer for ammo and a sheath belt, bullets, a holster and a large black trenchcoat. But his favored weapon he wore latched to his belt. The lightsaber would be the most reliable of these, in his eyes. But the knives would create the impression he wanted the local authorities to have: that a mundane serial murderer was on the loose.

He had stalked his target, in the dark of night, to a purveyor of intoxicants. Here would be where the deed was done. It would seem like a random murder, at least for a while. Until more bodies showed up.

The mark left the tavern at the time indicated in his file. The dark lord waited in the dark alleyway adjacent to the bar. He began to walk toward the man, knife in hand.

The Sith Lord unleashed the hate and anger of the Dark Side and grasped the man's throat. He pulled the man closer to him, careful not to kill the man just yet. He threw Guillote onto the ground. Gasping for air and filled with terror he pleaded for his life.

" You are wasting your time," Darth Covetous said menacingly.
" I have no mercy to beg for. No compassion to appeal to."

The Dark Lord went to work on the man, his blade carving and stabbing and cutting. A slow bloody death. Joyous ecstasy filled the sadistic heart of the Sith Lord. Warm blood splashed his face. It tasted so good.

His work done, he departed into the shadows. Laughing silently at what fun he had this night. More victims still awaited his deathly embrace.

[The Ethereal Crescent]

Alecto reclined in his chair near the back of the dimly lit club. He was watching two people: One, the woman at center stage; two, the man sitting just beyond her at front row center. Alecto loved to see this woman perform. She could wrap her voluptuous frame around a pole like nobody's business. And she was quite the acrobat, easily executing suggestive positions in a way that many women of her size just couldn't.

Howard Thompson and his friends seemed to be of the same opinion. They hooted and whooped at her as she wound around, and shrieked as she expertly slipped out of her clothing. They threw money at her- obviously large bills- and shouted lewd things at her. Men, Alecto thought.

As she danced, she projected thoughts into Alecto's mind.

All seems to be going as planned. The Argonians appear to have found the documents, with zero trouble. That'll teach this punk Thompson to up his security.

Covetous took out his man. He seems to have decided o a different approach. Those weapons he asked me for earlier? He used them- brutally. I think he's going for 'sicko serial murderer' rather than 'accident.'

Alecto frowned. Just as he'd expected. Ah, well, what can we do? All in all, good work. We'll send them all their first payments tomorrow, and move on to the next step.



She was brilliant. At the end of her shift, Howard Thompson followed her out to her car, parked in a bleak side street. "Hey, baby," he said into her ear, grasping at her waist, "what would I have to do to get you home with me tonight?"

Snap.

"Well, Mr. Big Spender, I ain't cheap."

"I would hope not." His hands moved upwards.

Snap.

She smirked. "You drive a hard bargain, Mr..."

"Call me Howard." He steered her toward his car.

"I haven't agreed yet."

"Good."

They ducked into his car- snap- and drove off- snap snap. Alecto tucked the camera back into its bag and hopped into his own car.

[Wandering Argonians]

Talen's exfiltration wasn't hard, more or less a reverse execution of the actions that had gotten him into the building in the first place. There hadn't been much blood involved in this operation, and that disappointed him a little bit, but hopefully there'd be more the next time around.

Alecto should have been pleased with the documents they'd recovered, and while Talen was busy driving back around to their hideout Kerry was occupied covering his electronic tracks. The cameras returned to recording actual footage just like they'd been prior to Talen's visit. By the time the field element arrived back at the hideout, Kerry had already shut down his laptop and kicked back to watch some television. Talen amused himself with a complete dis-assembly of the Barrett 25mm the two of them had discussed earlier.

Both former operatives had military expeirence, Talen's background being psycological operations and long-distance sniping. While he'd tried numerous other large-caliber delivery systems, the sheer potency of the 25mm had impressed him, surpassing the legendary .50 BMG and the newer .408 Chey-Tac Magnum in terms of sheer killing power, able to deal with mid-size vehicles and personnel alike.

In addition to the potent KAC Personal Defense Weapons and Glock sidearms and the behemoth anti-material rifle, Talen had brought along a Chey-Tac Intervention bolt-action rifle in case he had to take a mile-and-a-half shot against some sort of dignitary or one of Alecto's enemies, as random an occourance as that might be. The small Glock 26 currently under his arm was a hold-out piece, and with the surpressor can in place made a great point-blank assassination tool. He doubted Alecto would have them run an assault operation of some sort, since this was a 'clean' assignment, and as such he hadn't packed any sort of dedicated assault weapon system. The PDW's could fill that role, but they lacked the range to be an ideal choice in such a situation.

By now, he had the lower portion of the weapon completely apart. He didn't monkey with the upper portion, afraid he'd throw the scope he'd welded into place off a fraction of a millimeter and therefore cause him to miss by several feet at extreme range. No, it wasn't worth it to mess with anything near the scope. Truth be told, the weapon itself had been modified a few times already and didn't need to be taken down any further than a simple field-strip for cleaning. That didn't deter him from carefully plucking the trigger assembly from the reciever for the Hell of it. It was a ritual of sorts, familiarity with the smallest of parts on a weapon instilled confidence in its wielder, knowing that every single piece was in perfect working order before you committed to pulling the trigger...