[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/23E9PTz.png[/img]
[sub]Banner credit to Nitemare Shape. Thanks Boss![/sub]
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[h3]Rivertown Warehouse district, Detroit[/h3]
Eight fifteen in the morning, two days after the laser strike[/center]

Zoë let out a huff as she threw down yet another stack of files onto an already overburdened desk that looked like it had seen better days. It would be replaced as soon as some of her more lucrative deals came to fruition, but right now, most of her capital was focused on settling her operations here in this city of golden opportunity. The urban decay had been oddly hidden on her ride in from the airport, but looking out over the city from the airplane she had seen quite a lot, and her research before she even bought the property she was currently in had shown quite a bit of promise. All of that was in the future, however. For now, she had a job to do. Which was where the files came in, as well as the massive cork board behind her, occupying half the wall of the office.

The room was one of the old factory style manager's offices, with wide bay windows overlooking the ground floor open space. All of the walls, even up here, were old brick, here and there showing signs of needing repair. The floors down below her was all concrete, wile up here seemed to be old wood and threadbare carpeting in a dull grey. Nevertheless, it was sufficient for her needs. Even now, several hired hands who had been recruited before she came were busy setting up facilities down below, two rows of desks, a set of obstacle course from her old lair, and cameras [i]everywhere[/i], fed into a bank of computers situated on the far end and out of sight already. Those servers would only ever be connected to the internal network, and it was made clear that her own laptop was to have the only outside internet access in the building. Later on there would be a rec room, but not yet. A construction crew was busy installing a set of metal plated walls to fill out the area underneath her office, creating two rooms of around twenty feet square each, with a hallway separating them. Behind [i]those[/i] would be another room, similarly armoured, along with a secure hatch going down into a freshly installed basement area.

Unfortunately, some facilities had not been yet brought in, including her coffee machine and tea kettle. The room behind her office would be her own living quarters, but much of her things had yet to be unpacked, and she was too busy to do it herself. She punched in a search term on her laptop and stared at the results for a while before selecting a link. The investigation into either transportation or creation of those rounds she had been shown was trickier than she thought. Hound security was tight-lipped, and while she had likely targets, she didn't want to hit anything early and tip her hand, which meant making absolutely sure the target was actually a Hound facility before striking.

She sat back, drumming her fingers on the table, thinking, but a phone call on one of the three cell phones she had arranged on the desk interrupted her before she got going. She quirked an eyebrow as she noted that it was the Wraith phone. Only two people in the world had that number, but even so, she picked it up with care and hit the accept button.

[color=tomato]"Einherjar Globale Entwicklungsgesellschaft,“[/color] she answered, switching into English with a slight German accent, something she had been working on for some time now and was satisfied with enough to use as a cover. [color=tomato]“This is Natalie, how may I help you?”[/color]

“Uhhh. Hello? I was given this number by my boss, but maybe I wrote it down wrong.” 

[color=tomato]“Ahhh.”[/color] Her accent switched again, and she pitched down back to her normal American voice. [color=tomato]“Alex! Good to hear from you. How is LA?”[/color]

“Oh, it's fine, boss. Got a burner phone like you said. Everyone's settling in now. These are nice digs you found.” His voice sounded a little echo-y on the other end of the line.

[color=tomato]“Have they not gotten everything in yet?”[/color] She heard her tone slip a little angry, but didn't bother to correct it. She [i]did[/i] have a schedule to keep.

“No, not everything, but it's cool. Hey, we was looking at these files you wanted me to keep an eye on and we think we mighta found something.”

Zoë sat up in her chair. [color=tomato]"Oh? Do tell, Alex."[/color]

"Well," he paused for a second, talking to someone else in rapid Spanish. "Okay, so Julio has this cousin that lives in Pittsburgh, and just because we thought it was worth a shot, right, we called dude up to see if any shit was fucked up, right, and he says that yeah, that exact building is apparently got a bunch of dudes moved in and they active at night. Bringing trucks in at midnight and shipping shit out. Nothing during the day, just like if they want something hid, you feel?"

She rolled her eyes at how fast he was talking. Still nervous, even with her being more than a thousand miles away. [color=tomato]"This is very good info, Alex. [i]Very[/i] good. I need to make a few calls. Text me this cousin's address, I'll be needing to speak with him directly. Do [i]not[/i] warn him I am coming, I don't want him acting suspicious, but assure Julio that I won't harm his family member."[/color]

"Si, boss. I'll get you that as soon as I can."

[color=tomato]"Oh, and Alex? Good work. Showing initiative is very important."[/color]

She hung up before she could hear his stammering thank yous, set the phone down, and grabbed the file for the location he had indicated. An old steel mill, abandoned in the eighties and never renovated, on the edge of the industrial district of Pittsburgh. Lots of buildings around it, all in a similar state, though a few were now simply vacant lots, testament to the city at least [i]trying[/i] to keep the run down structures from becoming dens of iniquity. Or safe havens for the homeless. She flipped through the surveillance photos, rare as they were, and old satellite images. Over the course of the past year, the place had seen sudden bursts of activity, followed by long weeks of nothing happening. She assumed this was deliveries of supplies, and then manufacture, then shipping.

Well, it wouldn't matter too much longer no matter [i]what[/i] they were doing. She picked up her Forge phone, dialed in a rapid series of numbers, then placed the device to her ear.

"Hello, and thank you for calling Ares Tactical Solutions secure line," a prerecorded voice chirped at her. "If you would like to order armaments or gear, please press one. If you need personnel for a security job, please press two. If you need to recruit a team for sensitive operations, please press three. To speak to a representative, please stay on the line. If you know your party's extension, please state it now."

[color=tomato]"Zero three eight seven six dash four one eight charlie."[/color]

"One moment." There was a click, and then two rings on the other end before someone answered. "Forge!"

[color=tomato]"James, good to hear your voice. I was guessing you might be out."[/color]

"Surprisingly not, my friend." James had a rather upper crust English accent, something that grated on her nerves to no end. "I took a round to the thigh on my last job, grounded for another three weeks, I'm afraid. What can I help you with? I assume this isn't a call just to catch up."

[color=tomato]"No, I need a job done. Could you be a dear and hand pick a twelve man team for a covert elimination job?"[/color]

"I certainly hope so, or I'm likely to be fired! When do you need them by, and where's the job?"

[color=tomato]"Tomorrow, Pittsburgh. Sorry for the short notice, but time tends to be of the essence with me, as you know. If possible, I'd like the team to be either locals or from areas hard hit by Hounds."[/color]

"Hitting back hard, eh? Not to worry, I think I've got just the team on stand by, as it were, waiting for a chance to knock the ol' blaggards on their arses. I'll send you the details tonight. Any requests on armaments?"

She couldn't help but smile wickedly as she said, [color=tomato]"Dealer's choice, but heavy as it gets."[/color]

[hr]

The boy gestured with his chin down the road, and Zoë nodded before pulling him back around the corner, two blocks away from the target. This whole area stunk, thanks to the paper mill just down wind of the neighbourhood. Trash was piled in drifts in places where city workers either didn't notice or didn't want to bother with, mostly in the shadows of the run down bricks. The whole place felt like a ghost town. A few lights in windows here and there gave evidence that there was humans still alive here, however, as dusk settled in for the night.

She spun on her heel, clapping the young boy on the shoulder, then handing him two hundred-dollar bills and sending him scurrying away with a gesture. She climbed into the driver's seat of a large semi parked in the alley, turned the engine over, and Pulled it out and down the street towards her target. As soon as she had gotten the vehicle within a hundred feet of the entrance, an armed guard strode into view. When she turned the truck into the entryway for the building, he held up his free hand, leaving his dominant near the trigger for the MP5 he had slung over his shoulder. The black fatigues, if nothing else had, would've confirmed to her this was, indeed, her target. She rolled down the window at his hand motion and leaned out.

"You got papers saying you can delivers here?"

She felt the slight tingle as her power took hold, holding up a sheet of blank notebook paper at him. [color=tomato]"Right here,"[/color] she said, adding a slight southern accent for effect. 

Either he had been bored enough to not care, or her ready response had him completely fooled, because he waved her through without bothering to take the "papers" and study them thoroughly. [color=tomato][i]Merde, these people are useless,[/i][/color] she thought to herself as she inched through the now open security gate. [color=tomato][i]I need to make sure my employees are not this lazy.[/i][/color]

Inside, the place was at least orderly. The truck pull in was recessed into the ground three feet at the far end, with a loading dock around where the trailer doors would end up. Beyond that was a temporary wall like they used in corporate "cubicle farms", but with her height advantage from the truck, she could see over a dozen machines, and the old steel mill parts. Several areas glowed with the warm light of fires, more than likely smelting down the metals they needed. At least two men on the other side looked like they were Catholic priests.

As she brought the semi to a stop, another man stepped out. He had a clean military haircut, no face stubble at all, and the lines on his fatigues were [i]perfect[/i]. He carried himself with an air of authority that marked him clearly as an officer if the two men flanking him hadn't already. She leaned out of the window again and stared at him.

"We're not due another load for at least a week, nor do we have any shipments ready to go out. What are you doing here?" His tone was annoyed, not threatening.

[color=tomato]"Sorry, mon ami,"[/color] she said, using her own, normal voice and accent. It wouldn't matter momentarily whether they had heard her or not. [color=tomato]"Special shipment out of Paris, oui? Sent over with orders to be as quick and quiet as possible."[/color]

"From Paris? What the hell are they ordering from France?"

[color=tomato]"Well, as to that, I am not sure, but I know what I loaded into the truck this morning."[/color]

"Spit it out, woman. I need to know where to put this shit so I can get you out of here."

Her voice went low. [color=tomato]"I never said [i]France[/i], fuckface. And I loaded [i]vengeance.[/i]"[/color]

On the last word, she thumbed the radio on her belt twice. The slightly noisy interior of the plant suddenly erupted into noise as rounds ripped [i]through[/i] the trailer sides in all directions, heavy enough to leave gaping holes that quickly shredded the metal. Inside were the twelve men James had selected. Five were from Philadelphia, the rest from Texas. All of them had high calibre assault rifles, and two of them were blasting into the main building with a Browning M2 on a tripod. Zoë did her part leaning a pistol out of the window and emptying the clip into the three men in front of her before they had a chance to react.

She had a vulpine grin as she did it, and it didn't leave her face for more than an hour after they were done.