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[color=#CDB6D6][b]#CDB6D6[/b][/color] [color=2e2c2c]....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c].....[/color] [url=https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/0198aa35-340b-7653-883c-c88cfb3ebcc0.webp][color=9b9b9b][b]outfit[/b][/color][/url] [color=2e2c2c].....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c].....[/color] [color=9b9b9b][b]Descendant's Tower[/b][/color]
[img]https://i.imgur.com/9qIY4OK.jpeg[/img][/sup][/center]
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[color=d6d6d6]"Where are you flying in from?"[/color]

[Color=CDB6D6]"Frankfurt. Germany. "[/color]

[color=d6d6d6]"What is your occupation?"[/color]

[Color=CDB6D6]"Security."[/color]

This elicited a raised eyebrow from the middle aged worker, who looked over the young woman with an analytical gaze. Jules' pantsuit did little to explain her claimed profession. [color=d6d6d6]"Right... Are you here for business or pleasure?"[/color]

[Color=CDB6D6]"I'm afraid that is classified."[/color]

A confused expression replaced the bored tone of the customs agent. Jules noted the woman's change in body language, and the shift of her hand towards the bottom of her desk. [color=d6d6d6]"Do you have anything to declare?"[/color]

Jules lifted a small card, with a clear three letter logo emblazoned on it. [Color=CDB6D6]"Yes, I do. But I would appreciate some... discretion."[/color]

The customs agent gave a curt nod, stamping the passport before producing a paper from under her desk. She folded it, slid it into the folds of the passport, and nodded again. [color=d6d6d6]"Stay safe out there, ma'am."[/color]
[hr]The taxi dropped her off at a run-down apartment building in West Harlem with her heavy plastic suitcase. She unhooked the metal gate, letting it swing open with a clang. The brick post it was connected to had seen better days. Jules ran her hand along the back of it, feeling for the singular loose brick. It took some wiggling to pull it out. On the other end was a small glass pannel, coated in dust. She wiped it off with a small cloth in her pocket, and set her thumb on the scanner. It glew green, and the end of the brick clicked open. She dumped the contents into her palm: a ring of keys, the key fob to a car, and a faded slip of paper with two addresses and a 4-digit code. Jules closed up the brick, slid it back into place, and approached the front door.

Old dogs never do learn new tricks.

The apartment was just as cramped as she remembered. It was a criminally small 2-bedroom. The kitchen was clean, a habit her father had developed and insisted on: an infestation always brought questions and unneeded attention. She flicked the light switch, sighing as the apartment remained dark. No electricity, certainly no water. This was a glorified storage unit at this point, and not the one she needed. Jules stopped in front of a small corkboard on the wall. Tickets and polaroid pictures filled it, each with little brightly colored pins securing them in place. Jules reached up and quickly tore down each picture of her and her father, stuffing them into her pockets. There was no use leaving memories behind, neither of them would be back here again for some time. Jules pulled out the small scrap of paper from the cache outside, glancing at the first address again. She smiled. It was within walking distance.
[hr]With a satisfying click, the old padlock was opened. Moments later, the familiar rolling screech of the storage unit's door filled the air. Jules looked to her left and right, ensuring no one else was around. She stepped inside, pulling on an old cord hooked up to a solitary bulb. It hummed to life, a soft yellow glow illuminating the space. Bolted to the walls were racks upon racks of firearms. Plastic work cases with foam linings were set up on old wooden crates with german and russian script stamped on the sides. Jules rolled the door to the storage room down behind her, and slowly rolled up the sleeves of her shirt.

She had a lot of packing to do.
[hr][Color=CDB6D6]"Huh."[/color]

A black SUV had pulled off the road about half a mile from the tower proper. Sitting with her legs crossed on the roof, Jules lowered her binoculars and clicked her tongue. She was well aware that she was being watched, the camera placements and sensors dotting the landscape were not subtle. But it never hurt to be too cautious. The light crashing of waves against the nearby shore were comforting, in their own way. Every breath tasted faintly of salt.

Her heart was unsettled by what she had seen. To call the individuals assembling a crew of amateurs would be an overestimation. With a shattered front door, Jules had plenty of time to set up for a few fatal shots. She doubted a bullet would be particularly effective against the oaf, but the odd couple would be cold before those gathered could scramble for a counter-attack. That wasn't to mention the absolute trainwreck that was the awkward couple and their fight with someone inside. The girl at least had the sense to stow a weapon outside, until she recalled it to her hands. It was a neat trick, but hardly effective from this angle.

Jules couldn't hear what had exactly transpired, but it was becoming abundantly clear that there was trouble in paradise. This wasn't the ambush she had partially expected, but it definitely wasn't the gathering of trained professionals to solve the hero problem. She imagined this was like one of those teenage dramas she was never really allowed to watch... or, more accurately, never had an interest in. She had wasted the money on the flight, cashed in favors to get off the grid for a few weeks, and now she was stuck here. Jules bent down, picking up the radioactive-colored slushie she had picked up on the drive up and taking a sip. Her eyes shifted to the horizons, monitoring the area for any other interlopers. It seemed safe enough. Some of those inside seemed competent enough, and Jules did not want to make the drive to New York. Jules slid off the roof of the car, her flats providing little cushion as she landed on her feet. She got back into the SUV, put it back in drive, and closed the distance to the old academy building.

She pulled off to the side, the tinted windows obscuring the stacked cases in the back with all her gear. For personal comfort, Jules retrieved a Beretta from the glove box and slid it into a shoulder holster beneath her suit jacket. She took a deep breath, centering herself before popping open the driver's side door. She confidently sauntered up through the busted door, a friendly smile plastered on her lips. Her voice rang with a nonchalant cheer that was out of place in the tense atmosphere, but her careful stare made it clear that she was just as on edge as the others. [Color=CDB6D6]"Hope I didn't miss all the fun."[/color] Levity was always a good opener, in her experience. It beat brooding in the corner, even if that would be much preferred. Her eyes flitted over towards a small machine in the side of the room. She began striding towards it before she even asked the question. [Color=CDB6D6]"Mind if I grab a cup?"[/color]

She slotted a cup under the machine after changing out the pods. She tapped her toes as she waited for the coffee, facing the entrance as her eyes scanned the horizon for the familiar twinkle of any kind of lens in the sunlight. To her relief, she saw nothing. But she stood near the table, just to have a place to get cover if things did go to hell.
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[hr]Location: Descendant's Tower - Lobby
Interactions: none, open, vague
Mentions: The folks in the lobby