Martin could only watch as Cassie drank and drank, almost wanting to chuckle. The poor woman would be out of it, and almost as if right on cue, she passed out onto the table, completely and utterly wasted. It wasn't even something that Martin could guess her state, it was just that she was gone. Thom could only look across at the passed out female agent of Sierra, and only take a grin on his face.
"That's what you get when you have one too many. Carrying her is going to be fun." Thom simply said, followed by an icy stare from Martin.
"We might have wet work over here, local too. Best we do what we do best to sort it out. I suggest you all stay clean after tonight." Martin simply said, chuckling at the thought. Oh, the plans were already on his table, and it was far closer to home. It was Sierra's specialty, in deniable and untraceable activities. Ones that people didn't inspect or know of too well at any level.  
"That is, after tonight." Martin said, as he downed a little more vodka, knowing they could sort Cassie out soon. She was dozing now, but no less, she could enjoy that, while Martin enjoyed planning two intricate takedowns of a potential Islamic terror network closer to home.

-----

Two Days Later
Somewhere over London
2300 Hours

The AW109 was a beautiful helicopter, the Agusta-Westland produced helicopter being amongst the fastest executive helicopters on the market, sleek and exactly the kind of thing a buisnessman in the city would have for himself. In black, it meant you meaned business. Martin had his own, letting one of the agency's pilots take it over himself. In the back, he sat adjacent to Cassie, or Liberty, looking out of the tinted glass window. He wore the same suit from the bar, albeit this time after it had been ironed and dry cleaned; he wasn't taking his mentality in the pub when he wore his suit to now, he liked to think to himself. They were different times. 
"So it's wet work. We'll go over it again." Martin simply said to her, looking back out at the skyline.
"There's a server bank about three-quarters of the way up 20 Fenchurch Street, or the Walkie-Talkie as they call it. 220m. This is our sort of operation. You go in, any means needed. In this case, you're parachuting in." Martin simply added, looking out, noting that the helicopter was taking them back around over towards the City of London, almost the same as any helicopter.
"Place is locked down, the security is all over the place across the building. We're here because our friend, Ahmed, gave up the name of a very influential Middle Eastern banker, and Bugcatcher, as almighty as he is with hacking, won't be able to get a direct line into their servers, not by regular means. No way that the police can come in, it's too much red tape, and the government does not want this guy to be brought into a scandal. Hacking wise, DDoS and all out assaults are too difficult, but patching a backdoor is going to make Drevan's job a piece of cake, and rather than giving us a drip-feed, we can access their files on demand. Money transfers, even the Swiss stuff." Martin didn't seem even barely fazed about the description, and knew that Liberty knew this full well.

"So we're doing this totally silent. You drop in, find your way down the building, however you want. Drevan will guide you, he's going to soon have control of the building's security system...and you know what that means. You find the server, put the USB in and then get out. You've got a spare BASE rig if you want it, or anything else you've conjured for making a great escape. Not a single round is to be fired, but if you have to tranquilize a guard, you know what to do. We want zero casualties, but fucking people up is an option if you have to roll with it. Don't get caught, Liberty." He simply reiterated, as he patted her on the back, by her rig.
"Bugcatcher, we're 2 minutes out to target. How's the system hack going? We want zero cameras, or even better, tell us where our security detail is. Shouldn't be thick." The bald section leader looked out once more, checking over Liberty's gear. Infiltration equipment, but he had let her pick whatever she wanted to take with her. She knew best, but as he had said, non-lethals only. She would take them down, even if they were armed. After all, these were just security guards, and she was going to be a shadow in the dark, coming from the sky. Martin always reminded himself that operators like Liberty were more than capable at knowing how to get the job done, and whatever vents or quiet sneaking she would do, it would deliever results. Opening the door, Martin stepped back as the wind howled inside, looking back across to her.
"One minute!" He yelled over his headset, looking back at her, then pointing the building out.
"Drevan's watching like the pervert he is through cameras on you and in there, so there's eyes everywhere. Remember, don't kill anyone. There will be paperwork on your desk if you do, and they print it in bundles these days." Martin said, as he held on tight to the rail in the door, the darkness and the lights below being the only thing that illuminated this place, the view of the Thames and the skyscrapers truly stunning. 

The helicopter turned one last time, holding a hovering pattern, as the pilot gave a thumbs up.
"Green light, green light! Go!" He simply barked, as Martin simply looked on at Liberty, acutely aware that this was indeed happening. It was another day in the office, as he then shut the door, the pilot bugging out and heading back to the MI6 building.  

----

Somewhere in Brixton, London

The operation that Drevan, Martin and Cassie were on felt like a million miles away to Thom, as they drove through Brixton slowly, taking each traffic light and give way sign as it came.
"So the boss says that we're going to find a terror cell over here. Fucking really?" He simply said, rolling down the window inside Lancaster's Aston, the sound of reggae music pounding from a club that they drove slowly by, the smell of weed strong in the air. This felt insane, just totally wrong. The area was deprived, but the influence felt generally positive, apart from the few tower blocks and terraced houses, there were just derelict warehouses and factories.
"You should drop me here and let me get baked, I tell you." He added, chuckling, looking in the footwell of his passenger seat, unzipping a duffel and opening the glovebox. He was fully aware of the situation they were in, and getting stoned was the last thing on his mind, however tempting it was.
"We've got some serious firepower. And if there's the dozen that this guy coughed up, then we're going to have some hell to pay. You know me. I'll hold and chase any runners, you're clearing them out. Sensitive stuff, but they gave us the greenlight to shoot up a bunch of terrorists." Thom pulled out one of the MPXs from the duffel, loading a magazine. He pulled out a Colt C8, and loaded a magazine into it, the Canadian-built weapon the mainstay of the SAS, and now in the hands of MI5. It was an M4A1 for all intents and purposes, but it had a little more than just a regular rifleman's use to it. Being shortened and more elegant, it was a rifle for absolutely killing people precisely- this being the rifle he wanted to throw to Lancaster.

"Take another left here, then stop by the gate. They're inside an abandoned factory, don't know what the fuck they're doing there but that's our tip. We got the equivalent of some lad on work experience to check it out, and he says there are some terrorist types there, about a dozen, on the second floor. You'll need to catch their attention, I mean this is loud after all- the police won't arrive in the time that we're gone, and higher ups have this sorted if it does. Fuck knows what they're going to do, but before anyone gets a wind of it, I suppose taking them down and shipping their bodies off before the locals even hear that there was an Al-Qaeda cell in Brixton would be splendid. Try and find any intel or IEDs or terrorist shit in there, Lancaster, we don't want them going off here." Thom added, as he chuckled to himself.
"I mean, they'll kill all the Jamaicans, and that wouldn't be very nice. Us too."