BigPapaBelial

Falcon Espionage Agency (Espionage/spy rp)

So Casterly, did you read my post fully? I'm curious.

I wrote that 8 was still in his room. And had patched into the meeting rooms PA so he could take part in the meeting, how would your character give him the evil eye if he isn't there? And I'm assuming Kimberly stayed in his room to hand him that dossier for the mission.

Falcon Espionage Agency (Espionage/spy rp)

Simon was balls deep in an intense hack for another team. So intent on the job to use a rootkit and a backdoor routine to get into a company that is suspected of suppling assets to a black level threat organization. Because of how focused he was on the work he didn't hear the page asking for him to head to the meeting room. Nor did he hear the second phone call that came after it, nor did he hear the first polite knocks on his door, nor the second round of slightly impatient but still polite knocks. He still didn't hear the pounding impatient knocks that came next, and didn't actually react until the door to his room was kicked open, flooding the dimly lit room, filled with electronics and computers towers.

He didn't turn to look at Kimberly or the pair of security guards who had responded to her need to get into the room so much. Too intent on the fact he was 80% of the way to finishing the back and leaving that backdoor routine into the companies security and database system. The full time hacker that the team had would be able to use it to gather the information they needed once it was in place.

Because of his determination he didn't respond to Kimberly when she told him that he was being asked to appear else where only saying, "Once this is done." To which he was told he needed to go now. Simon, better known to the FEA as 8 just growled and continued to work, murmuring something about, "Having better things to do right now." He did relent on turning his phone to speaker mode and hacking into the meeting rooms PA system, he'd often been told not to do so as it is a FEA breach of privacy and security, but he always repaired it afterwards.

As the meeting got underway his voice joined everyone as they checked in, "Hello everyone, you can all call me 8. What's so important that you had to disturb me?" He then set himself to listen from there to find out what they needed of him.

Falcon Espionage Agency (Espionage/spy rp)

CS:
name: Simon Sung
codename: s3cHun 3!g#T or just 8 (Section Eight)
age: 37
nationality: Chinese exile, living in Canada
appearance:

Pic

years on the job: 10
skills: Pistol Marksmen, MacGyver style of thinking, eidetic memory on subjects of technology
expertise: Elite Hacker, Virtual information gathering
Security level: Level 4
Bio: Blacked out

Spycraft

So more Mission Impossible then James Bond?

Or something similar?

If so I would be interested.

Juggernauts (BigPapaBelial and kingkonrad) IC

"Give a courtesy flush hun! We really need to remember your sexy rears tolerances in the future. Other people would think that's a huge turn off. Just another thing to love." He laughs loudly

By the time Natalie came out of the washroom he was into his shadow sparring. And like alot of things in his morning routine he didn't hold anything back. If he had a flesh and blood sparring partner or a heavy bag to attack on every blow he unleashed would include that satisfying thump of impact. As it was, there was a soft woosh of displaced air as his fists, elbows, knees and feet whipped through the air. He had learned Muay Thai from many gyms across Norway and many in the States. And had recieved training in Judo from some very prestigious schools and from none other then Yoshihiro Akiyama. He had the training and the experience to back it all up. His blows lashed out, from fist to elbow, looping, lashing and cutting, he had trained under the famous Anderson Silva for a four month stint and had picked up Silva's incredible ability to throw uppercuts, and over hand strikes with his elbows. It would have looked properly stupid to try and shadow spar Judo, so he continued to let off combos with fists, feet, knees and hands. Any one of them designed to drop an opponent in a variety of ways. He got lost in the movements, and didn't notice how lost until his fist contacted the wall with a resounding crack. And it wasn't his knuckles giving way, but the plaster of the wall cracking and crazing with a spiderweb of small cracks. He pulled back and rubbed his had, "Oops."

*Four hours before the attack*

A tiny little breakfast cafe. That's where the pair of giants found themselves. They served alot of the European fair. Croissants, porriage, cereals and a bunch of other things. They had western modern food too and did a fair dealing in them. What they weren't expecting was a giant of a man, ordering a breakfast fajita the size of a football. Victor had expressly told them that their normal size fajita would barely fill him. And seeing he'd have to get up to some prime exercise later in the day he wanted to be full by lunch time.

And now he sat, cradling the large fajita, made of about 4 tortillas, and about a dozen eggs or more, with 3 whole green peppers and bits of bacon and cheese. He held it in his arms, like a giant baby, "Tis the biggest meal I'll likely have today. May as well be a baby." He grins over at Natalie goofily, "Maybe one of these days we'll actually have a child and I can do the same thing I'm doing now to him or her." He winked at her affectionately. He took the first bite of his meal. Grinning broadly.

He was quiet for about 8 minutes before placing the breakfast fajita down on a plate and looking at Natalie. He reached into a pocket, his large fingers wrapping around a velvet box. He looked at her quietly, then asked, "What do you feel about getting married hun? Would you want to wait? Or seal the deal soon? I'm curious. Been on my mind abit you know?" He looked at her, hoping for an answer.

Iron Chef rp

I'd be willing to play as a Field reporter. If you'll have me, this is just quirky enough to grab my attention, doesn't help I used to love ICO and ICA.

Juggernauts (BigPapaBelial and kingkonrad) IC

*Several hours later*

He listened to her breathing, even, in and out. There was a slight burring of a soft purring snore perhaps. It didn't matter. He smiled at her for a moment, placing a kiss on her cheek then getting up. He was just far too keyed up over the day, the evening and the freshly finished sex to go to sleep. The smell of it was still fresh in the air darn it. He slipped out of the bed and made his way out onto the balcony, he ignored the fact he's still butt-flippin-naked and stood out there. Listening to the night and the dark rush of Brussels at night. It wasn't Paris, the city of lights or Vegas, the infamous city that never sleeps. But it still had a brazen nightlife all it's own. He smiled, standing there, looking out over the city, he turned, shutting the balcony door abit, then lifts his head to the sky and lets out a powerful, reverberating whoop. Energized and ready, and finally ready to sleep.

He slipped back into the room, slipped back under the covers, wrapped his arms around Natalie, drawing her close. Nestling his nose into her hair. A big smile on his face, and he slipped off into the oblivion of sleep.

---

*Somewhere in a Brussels metro station*

Five bodies lay on the floor of a service hall. Three of them were security guards, two of them were unlucky civilians who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Further down the hall seven people, three women, and four men clustered around a set of lockers. One of them having been jimmied open, and an odd tall thin cylinder set inside it. Blocks of C4 and Semtex taped to a tall gas canister. Two of the women were tinkering with a timing mechanism. The rest of the group was making sure no one walked in on them, silenced weapons in the form of short SMGs and carbine rifles were being swept back and forth down the hall. Their black balaclavas hid their features from first look, and would need to be ripped off before identities could be found out.

This group was just one of several teams, setting up the last bombs in the metro stations around the city. Setting up timers that would go off at noon exactly the next day. Being the opening gambit to the plan, while eighty of their number would raid police stations and the WSM tournament to blunt the response and deal the first deaths of the plan. Another twenty would go out and martyr themselves at public sites around the city to cause even larger destruction. And stop the cities response so they could broadcast their message across the world.

The women grinned as they set the timer finally, then taped the timer to the top of the IED then closed the locker, and welded it shut with a hand torch. They all then packed up. They quickly gathered up the bodies, carting them down one of the tunnels, and dropping them in a service tunnel way down the way, where they wouldn't be found for weeks most likely. The terrorists then used back passages and sewer tunnels to get to their home base. The kick off area for the attack tomorrow. Unmarked vans and trucks ready to go for the attack already. The one hundred terrorists performing final preparations before catching some sleep so they could have some energy for tomorrow. As it would be the best day of their lives. And perhaps their last, no one truly knew the future.

---

*Seven AM, the next morning. Five hours until the Strike*

Victor's back appeared above the edge of the bed, then disappeared under it, this happened again and again. Working his arms and chest muscles as he rapidly performed push ups, limbering up for the days events and going through his morning routine. A never ending regime too stave off the potential of invalidity that his biological circumstances want to force on him. He holds the extended position for abit, looking up atop the bed to see if Natalie is awake yet. But doesn't hold it long, not that he couldn't hold it for hours on end without a problem. He finishes off his fifty push up routine then rolls over onto his back, planting his feet firmly on the floor and begins crunches and sit ups, he wouldn't allow himself a shower until he finished the jumping jacks and the shadow sparring. If he had the heavy bag he usually has on the base it'd be better, but he'd make do.

Today is the day he intended to try and blow away the competition, prove yet again he has the strength, power and endurance, the top in the world, seal the WSMs for another year.

Little puffs of breath escaped his mouth as he worked, growing slightly oblivious to the world around him for a time, bent on staying fit and trim, a long and healthy life, not just that he had to start working off that heavy dinner from last night. He could still feel it. The breakfast salad, limited meat and other things in the regime he'd have for breakfast would hold him for awhile anyway. He'd go back to a less regimented plan after the tournament. But he had to keep it all clean for now. He huffed and puffed, nearing thirty sit ups by now.

Yes today is the day.

Curious about signatures

Yeah did it already, thanks though.

Curious about signatures

Wait seriously?

Curious about signatures

So I will assume by that answer that there isn't a feature in place for that?

Thanks for answering Mahz.