Cameron Price sat silently on the bench of the cafe with a cup of steaming hot coffee and a plain toasted bagel in front of him. In his hands he held one of the local papers; he fake-read it quietly as his eyes scanned the surrounding area every couple of seconds casually. "Target's location is still undetermined, Lieutenant. Do you have a visual on your end?" Price did not speak, but he shook his head side to side to indicate that he did not. Reaching forward, he picked up the cup of dark roast and took a sip out of it before setting it back down on the table. Pulling his foot forward, a brown military-style boot scooted a black leather briefcase back more under the table as a lady and her daughter passed by; the little girl giggled as they started to cross the street. "Is this guy even going to show up here? This place is just too damn normal." Another voice broke through on the headset in Price's ear; there was slight derision in the tone. "Not every terrorist picks desolate landscapes for attacks, Byers. Perhaps you're just homesick from not having to shoot anything for a couple days." Price smiled to himself as Sandoval retorted back. "No... just sick of bird watching in this godforsaken park. I signed up to shoot B.O.W.'s, not watch children jumping off swings and skinning their knees." Price flipped the page of the newspaper as he looked at a man approaching in a suit with a cellphone to his ear; he listened for a moment—something about stock prices. "You almost sound like you want this maniac to release something, Byers." There was an audible scoff that came through the headset as the man in the suit climbed into a small red convertible on the street and pulled away moments later.
"Don't even joke like that. As boring as this is, I am kind of hoping that he doesn't show at all; there are too many innocent people here. Better to be trigger itchy than to have a thousand innocents turning into monsters." Price remained silent as his men spoke. Byers was right about that; this place practically screamed, "Attack me!" To release something here, the devastation would be quick and absolute. "Well, I'll be damned, big bad Byers actually has a heart in that mechanical body. Make sure to lube up just in case it rains; I would hate to see you rust." Price chuckled lowly to himself as Byers said "fuck you" more to himself than anything. These two were a handful to be sure; in fact, the BSAA was two steps from discharging them because of their less than professional attitudes, but Price found their personalities just right for the kind of work that his particular group did. There was no doubt that the BSAA was on the forefront of all biological attacks and that there were countless men and women who gave their lives to it. However, it had become glaringly obvious that something was going on within the BSAA itself. After the Baker Incident and the Eastern Europe incident, it became all too obvious that the BSAA was doing more than just fighting B.O.W.'s. The way they covered up the Baker Incident and Chris's going rogue with the Hound Wolf Squad.
Chris was as anti-B.O.W. and dedicated as they came; for him to go behind the BSAA like that meant something, especially to Price. He may not have been in this fight as long as Chris—hell, he was only ten when the Raccoon City incident went down—but he knew enough to know when things were not as black and white as the higher-ups liked to make it seem. There was absolutely no explanation for the use of B.O.W.'s by the very organization that claimed to be fighting against such things. Thus, a new part of the BSAA was formed in secret, a small, dedicated group whose sole purpose was to suss out the conspiracy that seemed to persist in the high echelons of the BSAA. There were still those dedicated to ending the bioweapon threat once and for all, but that would never happen if the BSAA was part of that problem. Sir, I have a confirmed visual on the target; they are heading in your direction from the east. Target has a metal briefcase with them." Price looked up silently from his newspaper as a man slowly came into view. He was a lengthy man, maybe five foot ten, with dirty blonde hair slicked back. He was dressed in a rather crisp suit, eyes hidden behind a pair of thin dark sunglasses. Price's eyes locked onto the briefcase he held; even from a distance he could see the telltale signs that it was not a normal case. "Confirmed visual, that's our man. Looks like he is holding a hazardous case."
"Damn... don't tell me that he is really going to initiate a biological attack here..."Byers' voice was etched with concern; Price could relate. The truth was that he did not know what this man planned to do. The tip they had received was that this individual was traveling to a predetermined location that was relatively close to this location. If there was to be an attack, that was not verified, but the fact that the intel was right on the money was worrying. This area was more dense and full of people; even one infected could possibly turn into the next Raccoon City, and that was a fact. He had seen the newest strains; the infection rate was almost instantaneous. In hours, even from patient zero, this whole city would be overrun. "What are our orders, sir?" Price received the question as he stood up and grabbed the case from the ground. The man would pass by, almost oblivious to the fact that he was under surveillance, or maybe he knew and just didn't care. "Byers, I want you to take up position at the meeting site we got from the intel. Sandoval I want you to follow at a distance in case we need to act quickly; keep watch for any unknown factors. I will follow the target and relay any possible changes to the situation. We do not have room for error; if this bastard even alludes to opening that case, we TAKE HIM OUT, Intel be damned."
Both men would confirm their received orders as Price picked up the coffee cup and bagel and tossed them idly into the trash can nearby. Leaving some money on the table, he adjusted his faded bomber jacket as his Nine-O-Nine showed just ever so briefly as he passed by a woman sitting on a bench as he got behind the target.