"Well there's surely not as many goats and zealots here like last time, that's a start." George calmly said to himself as they drove down yet another lane through Brixton, yet another lovely part of Greater London. Only complaint George had was that his Aston Martin was far from being in its favourite terrain; narrow roads packed with slow cars and even slower traffic lights. But again, it wasn't the Middle East, at least people spoke English in these parts. That was to say, most people, not all. 

"You'd be surprised on where you might find those. Once I was sent to deal with a cell hidden far up on Svalbard in Norway. Lucky for me, they had forgotten one thing about the North; Polar Bears. And that's all I can say, or else I'd have to kill you, as we say in this business." Thom knew this already, through their time together they had gotten to known each others service history, and none of them wanted to kill each other, except for George and Cassie of course. George wondered for a moment what exactly Cassie was doing now, sure that whatever she was doing, she was doing it violently, yet resoundingly sexy. Or that was his pants thinking. 

George simply shook his head at Thom's conversation about weed and smoking, and chuckled. "Maybe later, after we're done here. As long as we get the job done and I don't get the blame, you can go and smoke whatever your heart desires." Shortly after the Aston Martin pulled up outside the gates of the abandoned factory, a relic of Britain's distant industrial past where Britannia truly ruled the waves. Hadn't George enjoyed the lifestyle of the modern English gentleman, he'd want to live as a British aristocrat in the Indian sub-continent, alongside a few maids and Indian servants. 

"Don't worry, I'll be quick, as long as I don't get shot at or Cassie suddenly shows up and ruins my plan. But yeah, take down any runners, I'll do my best inside. Hopefully I'll get everyone inside while you can sit back and relax. Besides..."George said confidently, pulling out a piece of paper and stretching it out in front of Thom "I own that old factory, and I plan to evict any intruders that dare to camp in my property. Ah, don't you just love the real-estate business?" George had his contacts, and posing as the owner of the factory all fitted perfectly to his plan. Outside of the agency's grasp, clearly. According to the plan thought out by the group, of course. Fitting for George's skills, precisely.


George opened the gate and casually strolled towards the abandoned factory, eyes scanning the scene for hostiles that surely would gun him down. When he reached the entrance to the factory, he quickly checked his concealed Walther PPQ nicely hidden inside his jacket, before venturing inside. "Hello, anyone home? Daddy brought biscuits and tea!" The plan was set in motion, and soon, hell would break loose. But first, George would have a little fun with his targets.