Byrd Man

Independent Comics Universe RPG

Chapter 2
Brass Angel

MI6 Operations Center
Vauxhall Cross
London
2032 Local Time

The Ops Center bustled with activity as the busy intelligence officers dealt with reports coming in from all across the globe from countless intelligence agencies, field agents, and informants. Dubbed the Pit by some communications officer in the 80's, it acted as the nerve center of MI6's Overseas Development Group. The ODG's rather boring and bland cover name helped with its official designation as an agency that dealt with logistics and security for the Foreign & Commonwealth Office, that they were housed at Vauxhall Cross simply because they were bean counters that made sure all of Her Majesty's Government foreign interest were all properly filed in triplicate. In truth, the ODG was a descendant of the famous Special Operations Executive from the Second World War, the same organization Churchill had dubbed the "Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare". And like their predecessors, the ODG protected Queen & Country in a most ungentlemanly fashion.

"When are we going to hear word from Crocker and M?" Tara asked from her desk in the Pit, holding a phone in her hand while she waited on the Chief of Station in Tunis to come back to the phone on his end.

The Ops Center's every TV was tuned to coverage on the Yemeni president's death, some were BBC and American channels, while others were foreign language and Al-Jazeera. The large plasma displays on the wall save for one all showed a map of Yemen, a large pulsating dot marking where the drone had killed the president. The lone plasma screen not focusing on Yemen instead showed an outline of the Korean peninsula, North Korea colored in an angry bright red compared to the navy blue of South Korea. A small black dot just south of the 38th Parallel showed the location of Nick Poole, officially designated 006 and the youngest of the four 00 operatives. Below the map showed the running clock on Operation: Grosvenor was just over seventy-two hours. Tara stared at the screen momentarily and wondered if Poole would be recalled back to London to deal with the crisis, but her thoughts were brought back to the Pit when 004 spoke.

"Crocker went in to meet M twenty minutes ago for a briefing," John Steed said from the front of the room. "Hopefully it won't take too much longer."

As the senior most 00 agent, Steed acted as the de facto head of the ODG agents, a first among equals role that made him their leader. Steed was a military man like Tara, but he had navigated to the Royal Navy instead of the army, and taken up his trade in intelligence instead of special forces. Steed always acted like he wasn't phased no matter the situation. Take for example his current attire. All the 00's had been out of the office when the recall command came. Tara was wearing a pair of ratty jeans and an old top; even the usually fashionable 005, Steed's partner Emma Peel, was wearing plain clothes and sensible flat shoes. Steed though wore a prim and proper three-piece that was perfectly in place. If he was perturbed by the events in Yemen and the situation in the Middle East as a whole, there was no way Tara could tell.

"005, 007," Steed said evenly, his voice carrying over the din in the Pit. "When M and Crocker do call us into the big room, I want a full report on the ODG's infrastructure in the Middle East and what our operational capabilities within a forty-eight hour time frame look like."

The two women scurried off to carry out their tasks while Steed put his hands on his hips and impassively watched the news coverage on the screens.

*****

They finally got the call upstairs two hours later. Tara, Steed, and Peel all came up to the top floor of Vauxhall Cross to the soundproof conference room adjacent to M's office. Wait for the three agents were the head of the Secret Intelligence Service, Sir Gareth Mallory under the codename M, along with his Director of Operations, Paul Crocker. Joining them were Tom Wallace, the ODG's chief intelligence analysis codenamed Minder One, and an Asian woman Chace was not familiar with. Steed gave her a subtle nod as the three 00 agents sat down facing the four waiting members of the briefing.

"00's," M said softly. "Sorry to keep you on ice for so long, but we were conferring with the Cousins at Langley. For those of you not in the loop, Ms. Cheng here is CIA's chief of London station."

It made sense, Tara thought to herself, that Steed would know her. He pretty much knew every bloody spy in the game.

"Minder One," Crocker said with a nod to Wallace.

Wallace, roughly ten years Tara's senior with salt and pepper hair and a relaxed smile, gave her one of those smiles as he stood and walked towards the monitor on the far side of the room.

"Here's what we know," he said as preamble. "Needless to say, all of this is top secret at the moment, and was provided by our American friends in Langley. At almost 1900 hours Yemeni time, a CIA drone strike codenamed Operation: Dagger Steady, attempted to take out Abu Al-Hammani, the operations chief of terrorist group The SIxth Pillar. The intel on Hammami and his whereabouts were provided by Six through a trap and trace bug on his satellite phone. This drone locked on to what it thought was Hamammi's phone signal and followed it to the source. Instead of meeting a battered van Hamammi and his bodyguards drive around, they instead found the entourage of Abd Abdullah Hadi, Yemen's president."

Wallace hit a button on the monitor and it blinked to life, showing high-definition satellite photos of a crash site covered in flames.

"The CIA officers in charge of the operation attempted to pull the drone out of the area, but it encountered a problem. It continued on its path towards the cars, not responding to the pilot's controls, and fired two Hellfire missiles before crashing into the site. After the signal died this message was frozen on the screen."

THE PRICE FOR FASCISM IS ETERNAL ENSLAVEMENT
I KNOW ABOUT SMOKESCREEN
AND SOON, SO WILL THE WORLD

"Cyberattack," Steed said mostly to himself.

"But nothing like we've ever seen," said Cheng. "CIA and NSA are both accustomed to cyber warfare attacks.The PRC, Russia, even Iran all try to break our firewalls at least a few times a year. Those attacks are like shotgun blasts, broad and not very powerful. They just hit the walls to find any potential weak spots. This was like a goddamn laser guided missile. It cut through all the bullshit and targeted this one particular drone signal, hijacked it for its own purpose."

"What's Smokescreen?" Peel asked with raised eyebrows. "Certainly seems important enough to broadcast knowledge of it."

"No idea," Cheng said without blinking and fast enough that Tara knew she was holding back, if not flat out lying all together.

"Naturally because of this," Crocker spoke up. "Both SIx and the CIA are in a lot of hot water with the Middle East. They already hate the use of drones, especially in a country like Yemen where all the US has is a handshake deal to use them. For them to bollocks up something this big in this way will have repercussions that we'll be feeling for years."

"Not to mention Six's part in this," Cheng said without any warmth in her voice. "Faulty intelligence led to this 'bollocks up'. Your ass is just as on the line here as ours are."

"Oh yes," Crocker said with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "The US would never make a massive foreign policy decision in the Middle East without concrete, can't miss intelligence that they were right."

"The briefing," M said sternly like a disapproving parent. "Continue, Minder One."

"Because of this," Wallace said as he let the awkward pause in the room pass. "The ODG are launching two simultaneous joint operations with the Americans. Operation: Brass Angel and Operation: Copper Angel. Details are simple, 004 and 005 will work with the US SEALs DEVGRU on Copper to find Hammani in Yemen. Despite being on CIA's kill list, he is to be brought in alive for interrogation on what he knows. 007 takes Brass solo. The NSA and our OCSIA have managed to track a signal that hijacked the drone and run it back through two dozen proxies to Yangon in Myanmar. We have a location on the site, you and Six's QRU will watch and wait to see what intelligence can be gleaned from the site."

"Any questions?" M asked. "Good," he said after a moment of silence. "Further detailed briefings to follow once you're wheels up and bound for your respective countries. Good luck, 00's. Find these bastards and find them quick. Dismissed."

A Nation Divided - Civil War RP

“I wish none but those who desire to be actively engaged. Come on boys, if you want a heap of fun and to kill some Yankees.”
-- Nathan Bedford Forrest
June, 1861

Name: Nathan Bedford Forrest

Union or Confederate: Confederate

Army's Name: 3rd Tennessee Cavalry

Character Backstory: Nathan Bedford Forrest was born to a very poor family in Tennessee in 1821. Forrest's father died when he was 17 and Forrest became the man in the house. He went into business in Tennessee as a planter that soon became a rapid success and led to him owning several plantations and farms. That business spun out to the even more lucrative business of slave trading. By the time the War Between the States Forrest was a self-made millionaire. When the war broke out, Forrest enlisted as a cavalry captain but resigned and used his own personal fortune to raise his own army. He was given a commission as a colonel and briefly commanded the 7th Tennessee Cavalry as an officer in the war's western front. Forrest was promoted to brigadier general and the 7th cavalry was absorbed into a bigger army, the 3rd Tennessee.

Age: 40

Experiences in military: Forrest was never in the military prior to the Civil War, but he was a prodigy when it came to combat tactics. His tactics involving cavalry and mounted infantry mirrored many of the same tactics used by motorized infantry in the Second World War eighty years later. Forrest was also a very gifted and natural horseman and swordsman.

Appearance:

A Nation Divided - Civil War RP

I'm going to work on a CS, I just can't decide who I'd like to be. Lots of good choices on both sides, for sure.

Independent Comics Universe RPG

Independent Comics Universe RPG Character Sheet

Player Name: Byrd Man

Character: Tracy Lawless (From Ed Brubaker and Sean Phillips' Icon series Criminal

Power and Abilities: No powers, but Tracy is a former Army special forces operator and has all the skills and abilities that come with that job. In addition, Tracy is extremely street smart and is an expert criminal.

Alignment: Neutral Evil

Character Notes [Established Rogues, NPCs, etc]:

Sebastian Hyde: Tracy's boss and boss of Center City

Jake "Gnarly" Brown: A former boxer who now runs the Undertown bar. A former friend of Hyde's, Gnarly's bar is a meeting place for the criminals of Center City

Leo Patterson: A criminal prodigy and Tracy's boyhood friend. Leo is currently serving life in prison for six counts of murder.

Background and Story So Far:

Tracy Lawless' early life was rough. He and his brother Ricky were constantly abused by their drunken criminal father, Teeg Lawless. Teeg acted as chief enforcer for Sebastian Hyde, the kingpin of Center City. While Tracy took the abuse and quietly hated his father, Rick loved and admired Teeg to the point that it made Tracy sick and made him hate his little brother. Tracy and Rick were arrested for auto theft when Tracy was 18 and Rick was 15. Rick went to Juvie while Tracy got the choice to go to prison or join the army. Tracy took the army as his chance to escape Center City and his father.

Lawless excelled in the army, so much so that he became a candidate for special forces training. His covert work in Bosnia led to the slaughter of an entire village in Bosnia. In Iraq, Tracy was arrested after killing four US Army officers for their mistreatment of an Iraqi family. The army hushed up the crime and deemed Lawless too valuable to send to jail or kick out of the service. After a year in a military prison, Tracy was released to continue working for special forces. Shortly after he found out his brother Rick had been killed back home. Tracy escaped from the military base and went AWOL back home to Center City.

Once home, Tracy infiltrated Rick's crew and began to figure out who killed his brother while helping the crew on the score. Tracy stole cash from a Sebastian Hyde courier upon his arrival back home. Hyde's people watched from afar as Tracy killed Rick's old crew in revenge. After discovering the true nature of his brother's murder and the pointlessness of revenge, Hyde's people confronted Tracy and brought him to the man himself. There Hyde made him an offer: Tracy would work for him as an enforcer or Hyde would kill the few people left in the world Tracy cared about. With no other option, Tracy accepted and the role of the father became that of the son.

Sample Post (At least 3 well thought out paragraphs as well as some dialogue):

Tracy sat stock-still in the front seat of the car. He left the Charger at home for a generic looking sedan he saw on a side street downtown. Three seconds to get into the car with his slim jim, and another thirty to jam the screwdriver into the ignition just the right way to start the car. The Charger was the best getaway car out there in Tracy's opinion, but out here in the 'burbs he needed something that didn't stand out in the land of minivans and SUVs.

Three in the morning and there was only one house that still had more than one light on. It was the same house Tracy had been watching for eighteen hours now. Two days ago he followed a guy from the projects all the way here. The same guy had been pointed out to Tracy by one of Leroy's many lookouts he had in that part of town. The kid said the guy had been strutting around the past few weeks, flashing a lot of cash. He wasn't affiliated with any of Leroy's stash crews of dealers, which was bad news. Nobody in that part of town had that kind of money without slinging, robbing, or getting some kind of settlement check.

A stick-up crew had been roaming around the projects for a month now, ripping off Leroy's stashes and dealers for cash and dope. The stick-up crew had made the worst mistake they would ever make in their lives because Leroy worked for Hyde, and when someone stole from Hyde he sent Tracy to make sure they could never steal anything again. Tracy found the man they were selling the drugs to, an independent slinger by the name of Marcus. Tracy broke both his hands as a warning to buy only from Leroy from now on. It was through the Leroy's lookouts and the fence that Tracy was able to work it back to this house. Almost an entire day watching the house and he saw three men coming and going. Eyewitnesses had said it was a three man crew robbing Leroy's people. That was all Tracy needed.

Twenty minutes later and the lights went out in the house. Tracy waited another two hours after that. If there was one thing the Army taught him, it was how to wait. He once waited in a wadi in Iraq for two straight days, looking through a rifle scope and waiting for some ISIL motherfucker to sit down and take a shit before he could pop him in the back of the head from a half mile away. Waiting in this car, pissing in a coffee thermos, and watching these morons who were too fucked up on dope to spot a stake out was too easy.

He pulled his piece out of the glove compartment box and checked it out of habit. Five in the morning on a Sunday, nobody on the block would be up and he would have cover of darkness for another forty minutes or so. Tracy slowly got out the car and tucked the gun into his waistband as he walked down the street towards the house.

Tracy

Independent Comics Universe RPG

Chapter 1
Ride of the Valkyries


Central Intelligence Agency Headquarters
Langley, VA
1152 Local Time


"Operation: Dagger Steady is go,"

The young intelligence officer in the trailer parked outside Langley leaned forward in his chair and pushed the joystick in his hands down. On the screen in front of him, the broad and rocky landscape of Yemen appeared through the clouds. The view on the screen was provided by a small camera mounted on the back of an MQ-1 Predator Drone, the joystick in the young man's hands controlled the Predator. Since 2001, the Predator and it's sister drone, the Reaper, were the main weapons the US intelligence and military complex used in the war on terrorism.

The Predator could move in and out of countries quickly and quietly stay in the air for fourteen hours at a time before delivering its payload of two Hellfire missiles at the chosen target. It wasn't as risky as sending in special operators in a covert mission, nor was it as messy and as loud as any other ground forces. Afghanistan and Iraq had been invaded with battalions and thousands of men, war there being fought the way of the sledgehammer. The war in Yemen was being waged with Predators and Reapers and precise surgical strikes, the way of the knife.

The CIA's knife this day was pointed in the direction of Abu Al-Hammani. Hammani, an upper level member of the Wahhabi terrorist group the Sixth Pillar, was on their list because of the Brits. MI6 wanted him dead due to masterminding an attempted suicide bombing in Kenya three years ago. Hammani had fled, but kept plotting more and more Jihadist plots. Eventually, law of averages of stated that he would get one right and kill countless human lives. Because of that, and because of MI6's dispatching of a CIA double agent last year, the Agency had Hammani in their sights as a favor to their sister intelligence service.

The younger officer pressed a button on the iPod beside him and Wagner filled the small trailer, Ride of the Valkyries blasting from the small speakers mounted inside the mobile home. Felix Leiter was the supervising agent in charge of Dagger Steady, and he watched almost stoically from behind the drone operator. When the song came on, he couldn't help but crack a small smile at the choice of music.

"That was done in sarcastically, you know," he said with his long Kentucky drawl stretching the words out. "In Apocalypse Now, they used that song to make you wanna identify the US with the Nazis, not for you to get all pumped up for killin'."

"Never seen the movie," the young man said.

Leiter rolled his eyes and checked a computer next to the monitor displaying the drone's progress. A satellite in orbit above Yemen had a bead on Hammani's cellphone. The satellite relayed coordinates to the mobile station in Langley and the drone operator followed them towards their end goal.

"I've got eyes on a vehicle," the drone operator said excitedly. "No, three vehicles... black Land Rovers."

Leiter leaned forward and furrowed his brow. That didn't match up with what Six had on Hammani. Their intel said he would be riding in a beaten white utility van. From the look of the Land Rovers on the screen they were brand new and part of a convoy or entourage.

"I'm aborting this," said Leiter. "Pull off and start in a circling pattern, and for God's sake turn off that damn music..."

The loud operatic thundering of Wagner disappeared in an instant. The operator pulled back on the joystick before he tried again, this time harder and more urgent. He looked back at Leiter with a panicked look on his face.

"It's not responding... I can't... I can't control it."

"Pull it off right now," Leiter snapped. "Do it or so help me--"

"I can't! It's going on it's own!"

Both men looked on in horror as the drone flew in closer and closer towards the speeding convoy of cars. A signal flashed on the screen that the Predator's safety was off and it was ready to fire. On its own, the drone shot its two Hellfire missiles out at the fleeing cars. the first destroyed the lead Range Rover in a ball of flames, the second hit between the second and third cars and blew them off the road and into flaming wrecks. The two stunned on agents watched as the drone dove down into the ground. The feed crackled with static and a message written in bold letters.

THE PRICE FOR FASCISM IS ETERNAL ENSLAVEMENT
I KNOW ABOUT SMOKESCREEN
AND SOON, SO WILL THE WORLD

"What does that mean?" the young officer asked Leiter.

"I have no idea... except I do know one thing. We're both fucked."

*****

London
1831 Local Time

Tara Chace opened the door to her apartment with one hand while her other hand balanced two boxes of Chinese food on her palm. The bag carrying the takeout had ripped in the parking lot, so she had to make due with carrying the hot food in her hands. She closed the door with her hip and nearly lost the top container of pork-fried rice. Even though Tara could field-strip an Glock blindfolded and hanging upside down, sometimes her balance acted out to the point to where it made her question those abilities she had. With the food safely in hand she plopped them on the kitchen counter and removed her coat. It had been so long since she had the takeout at the Blue Butterfly that she was very much looking forward to it.

Two months since she came back to England from that mission in Italy, and only God knew how long until Chace had to be whisked out again in the name of queen and country. Going on two years as a 00, and she had to learn to enjoy the simple pleasures when she could. And while these moo goo gai pan wasn't an equal substitute to a stiff drink and an even stiffer man, it was good enough for right now. She finished her food standing at the kitchen counter and headed into the living room to stretch out on the sofa. The cell in her pocket chirped as she sat down on the sofa and turned on the television.

An encrypted text message made her stomach do backflips. A message sent through that channel meant it had to be important enough not to wait for the morning. She opened it up while the BBC newscaster droned on in the background and felt her stomach pulse again. RETURN TO STATION, it read. CODE BLACK. A code black was the worst of the worst.

"And our breaking story from this hour," the newscaster said loud enough for Chace to look up at the screen. "Reports coming from Yemen are that Yemeni president Abd Abdullah Hadi was killed earlier this evening in an explosion. As we just reported earlier, Yemeni officials are saying that it was an American unmanned drone strike that killed the president."

"Bollocks," Chace said softly to herself.

Independent Comics Universe RPG

Prologue
Shaken and Stirred

Prague, Czech Republic
2012

John Brown was a legend in the espionage community. Everyone knew the stories; orphaned and raised by an old British commando, graduated first in his class at Oxford, an intelligence officer in the Royal Navy until MI6 came calling. A secret agent of the highest caliber, Brown had foiled countless terrorist plots and killed many of England enemies to defend the realm at any necessary cost. Tall and handsome with jet black hair and smoldering eyes, Brown was so charming had his choice of any woman he so desired, be they hardened terrorists or secretaries Six's local station. The stories of his exploits had been repeated so much that nearly everyone knew them by heart, from the run-in with the mad Japanese daimyo and a silo full of nukes, to the scintillating story of the triplets in Argentina.

The one aspect of the stories that they always brushed over every time they were told, though, was the fact that MI6 Agent John Brown was a massive prick. He was borderline functioning as an alcoholic, boorish on the point of unbearable, and extremely vain. He was his biggest fan, though, and was especially convinced of his superior wit, so much so that he often tried to shoehorn in puns at the most inopportune times regardless if they made sense.

That was in fact exactly what Brown was doing that night in Prague, at the small dinner the English embassy was throwing the departing UK ambassador in the ballroom of the Prague Ritz.

"He turned out to be a flat bore."

The small crowd of four or five gathered around Brown laughed politely as he finished his story and took a long swig off his martini that killed the glass. He belched and ambled over towards the bar. Brown stopped suddenly when he saw the woman at the bar.

She wore a black cocktail dress and black heels. Her red hair was shoulder length and a pair of emerald eyes that were as large and as skiddish as a deer caught in headlights. Brown smiled to himself and ran an unsteady hand through his dark hair.

"Hello," he said as he approached the woman. "Haven't seen you around here. Are you new to the embassy?"

"Yes," she said meekly. She looked down at her feet and blushed slightly. "I just started two weeks ago, I'm Mister Young's secretary."

"Let me buy you a drink," he said with an attempted wink. He was so drunk that both eyes closed and made his wink an odd blink. "What are you drinking?"

"Scotch and soda."

"Scotch and soda," Brown said once the bartender was in front of them. "And I'll have a vodka martini, shaken not stirred."

He turned his attention back to the secretary once the barman was away and he smiled at her.

"So what kind of work do you do for Jim?"

"All kinds. I take dictation--"

"Oh, do you?" he asked with a cheeky smile. "So you take dic...tation, do you?"

The young woman's cheeks flushed and turned the color of her hair. Brown just smiled bigger and knew he had it in the bag.

"I wonder if you do much in the way of spreadsheets, perhaps you'd like to come back to my sheets and help me by spreading something?"

---

Brown rolled off the woman, girl he was calling her because he hadn't thought to even ask her name, and sighed contently. He really was the world's best lover, the moaning fit the girl had put up while they were in the sack had reaffirmed his belief.

Brown walked towards the bathroom stark naked while the girl cleaned herself up. He turned on the bathroom light and relieved himself in the toilet.

"Admirable job, love," he said in a condescending tone. "You gave it your all, but sometimes you need to put your back into it, if you know what I mean."

He finished and stepped back into the bedroom without flushing the toilet or washing his hands.

"Ready for round two?"

The sound of two suppressed gunshots filled the small bedroom, and John Brown collapsed to the ground in a heap with two small bullet holes in his chest. The naked woman on the bed held a micro glock 42 with a suppressor on the end of the gun's barrel. Her wig was off and the red hair was now replaced with short blonde hair. The nanites in her eyes had shifted colors from the emerald green to her normal dark brown.

Gone was the timid and confused embassy staff member John Brown had taken to bed. In her place was Major Tara Chace. While John Brown was one of the world's most legendary spies, he had also been selling secrets to the Chinese, Russians, and anyone willing to pay a hefty price for years. The assassination tonight was the culmination of two weeks worth of work in Prague, stalking and watching Brown both inside the embassy and on the streets of Prague. He was dead, but he wasn't her first kill of the mission. She killed the Chinese man who was his cut-out a day earlier with a gunshot to the back of the head. Two kills per her mission briefing.

Tara cleaned herself up and got dressed. She didn't worry about DNA evidence since MI6 had pulled all of her files once she was inducted into ODG training. Tara Chace was nothing now but a name on a governmental pay stub

Dressed, she stepped over Brown's body and looked down at him. She had killed people before, both in Iraq and Afghanistan as a member of the SAS, but this was different. A planned covert operation for the express purpose of killing the man on the floor, this wretched human being who sold state secrets and treated everyone like garbage. She was told not to take it personal with any targets, to just act as calm and impassioned as a gardener that cuts weeds. But two weeks of observing Brown had made her loath the man so much that she couldn't resist a few shots at his ego.

"I faked it," Tara said softly, not sure if he had enough life so that he could hear her. "Also, who orders a martini shaken? It bruises the gin, you bloody savage."

Dressed and ready, Tara stepped out of the apartment and calmly walked to a nearby payphone where she delivered the message to Universal Export: Delivery two signed for and handed off. Their reply: Good work. 00 status approved.

Ian Fleming's
007

&

Greg Rucka's
Tara Chace

in

Dagger Steady

Independent Comics Universe RPG

I object.

Also, any idea on an IC timeframe?

Ultimate One Universe: Marvel/DC RPG

On the plus side, I can get posting with Batman...

Independent Comics Universe RPG

I'm not familiar with Speedrun, where's he from?

Independent Comics Universe RPG

Well, there's the lady from Goldeneye. She killed people, men really, by squeezing them to death between her thighs. More of a skill than a power, though.