FourtyTwo

Vigil!

Leaning back in his chair, Lucas picked up the phone, making the call.
"Hello. Mr Bolton, it's your investigator. I have found what you were looking for." Lucas simply said, looking over at the file on the wooden desk, looking out the window as the man in his mid-40s responded. Edgar Bolton was a man that was another typical customer- a little paranoid, but with justification for that paranoia, in a way.
"Shit, Lucas. My wife, she's doing it?" He said, a little tense, as Lucas knew they all were.
"I have a comprehensive report of your spouse's activities. See for yourself. It's not my concern to judge or do anything about it, I gather facts after all. Swing by my office, and we'll square up our business." Lucas said, calmly, a little tired even, but convincing over the phone.
"Thanks man. Can I come this evening?"
"Sure. Come in at around six to my office, I don't want this to take up too much time. Thank you very much, Mr Bolton." He simply said, as the man on the other end breathed a sigh of slightly angered relief, probably at his wife.
"Thanks, Mr Green. Goodbye." The man added, as Lucas put the phone down, looking out the window a little more. Sirens. Godknows what now. Maybe police going to the lab. Or the fire department clearing up the rubble. Either way, it was a mess.

Sitting up a little, he switched on his MP3 player, hooked up to a DAB radio of sorts. Flicking it on, some simple Mumford and Sons was the next track on the playlist, something simple to ease his ears. Sitting back, he sorted out Edgar Bolton's files, everything in order for collection. To Trident, this was a bore. This was a sure fire fucking way to live a life, but not a way to just pay the bills. Lucas knew that of course, not all his income was legitimate. Against the Mafiya, he had made one or two cutbacks. Money that had so much so vanished from the system was in his hands. Stealing from thieves was brilliant, just awesome. Because they couldn't go to the cops about it, and that was a nice feeling. This wasn't regularity. And nor was it something he enjoyed. He took what he needed. To buy his car and bike, equipment, and anything specialized through Austin. The rest, this business payed, legitimately.

Lucas finished with the brown folder, all photos, paperwork and invoices in order, before switching the MP3 player off. Walking back to the phone, the thought of Austin was one that he needed to just get to work on. Finding his number, he dialed it in, knowing that it went to his business mobile. Lucas was a good client of Austin's. A very good client. They worked mutually, but Lucas knew it was a need to know basis. Some favors there, for a little assistance there. Austin was good as a shooter, but on other fronts, he had many, many weaknesses. A family, that was one. Taking the phone again, he dialed. No specifics on a landline or mobile, but on a payphone or an encrypted device, such as through an online channel with an encryption would usually do the trick for better remote specifics. Some were permissible, but ones that would tell a would be assassin how to shoot dead Lucas would be too much.

The phone buzzed, till Lucas heard the other end catch.
"Hello, my friend. Meet me round your place of work, wait somewhere discreet near; I'll find you. We need to talk." Lucas simply said, waiting for a simple confirming response. They had things indeed, to talk about. Austin wasn't a shop, but if returns were anything to go by, he owed the fixer something.

Task Force Lima (COMPLETED)

Fuck, that sounds shit dude.

But on the plus side, you get more guuuuns. More SAR-21 time. :D

Vigil!

I do want to make a short post for Lucas contacting Austin about "work-related" topics and his general private investigation work, but I feel that doing two posts in the time the GM hasn't got one up would be a bit rude, if anything.

Juggernauts (BigPapaBelial and kingkonrad) IC

Natalie moved swiftly, setting the charge on the road, as she moved back up into the forest, to set the charge on the piled bodies. Two very neatly placed traps, that would buy her a significant amount of time, if about a minute was significant enough for her to do her work. Moving back to her previous position, she established a reconnaissance once again. Just watching over the area, picking out what she needed to find again. The situation looked mostly the same. She didn't even see the Drop Pod and the parachutes a few klicks out, that were coming into ram-raid the place. They had authorization, but this was something the big Russian female didn't know.

She moved down the hill, keeping out of sight of any searchlights, the pouring rain thundering now as she dived down behind a set of shrubs, crawling from here on out. She entered the pipe, just holding her stomach together, barely being able to even stand at her full height, so she crawled through what must have been a reverse Shawshank Redemption, moving slow. No wires, no cables, no charges. She wouldn't be suprised if she didn't find a Claymore or Proximity Charge in here- the stench wanted to make her almost be sick. Moving through the pipe, she found a small ladder, barely fitting through, her large features on her front and rear occasionally requiring a Natalie-strength pull to get through, trying as she did to hold her flatulence together. Now was not the time to vent off, especially knowing that it was a bombastic occasion when Natalie did.

Clambering the ladder, she wiped her face of shit, moving through a hatch, as she looked around. Clambering up, she moved fast down onto her two tits, diving to the dirt behind a concrete barrier, waiting for a patrol to pass, before clambering a little forwards. She was close to the vehicle store, and only a handful of welders were about, the rain still pattering down, as Natalie clambered up. Moving forwards, and adjusting her beret a little, she moved into a side entrance of the vehicle store, a small warehouse, moving from cover to cover, before moving up behind one of the welders. Taking him with a strong chokehold that took him off his feet, she threw him behind a BMD, before then propelling herself, like a projectile, rear first. The man struggled, but he slowly became limp, completely dead, before she moved up, taking her PKP to hand. It was exessive, but the weapon was comfortbale in her hands. Shooting the other welder with a simple shot, and a man on a balcony above, she smirked, aware this area was clear.

Rigging up charges over the BMD's, the noise of a base alarm could be heard, as men were running outside, yelling intruder. Then, the noise of what Natalie knew could only be one set of munitions came in. It was Victor.
"Bastard! Can't he just let me have this one?" She exlclaimed quietly to herself, as the radio kicked in.
"Major, this is Central, we've got a Private Military force inserting, they came out of nowhere! We're scrambling the SU-34s to escort them out of our Airspace..."
"You will do no such thing, Colonel, that is the sound of a privatized military making a bigger distraction than my two tits and explosive charges ever will. Get the Mi-24s prepared, the air defenses are going to be down in a few moments. The SU-34s can blow those Tunguskas." She added, as she exhaled hard, moving from BMD to BMD, as men ran out. Then, a patrol saw the big 7"2 Russian, slightly covered in shit, but like a walking death sentence to anyone approaching her.

She was faster, and mowed them down fast, the silenced PKP collecting a bodycount, as she ran through, moving through the muddy barracks, aware that they were focussing on the fact that a heavily armored Titan was basically walking into this base, and not going to give a fuck about what else. The noise of a BMD moving from the courtyard could be heard, and Natalie was already fast enough to put herself in the right place at the right time, plucking the RPG-72 off her back, flipping the sight, as she saw it head to the front, to flank Victor.
"Boom." Natalie simply said, clicking the trigger, as the projectile slammed into the rear of the IFV, the rear armor of the Airdropped tank being blasted apart, as she chuckled quietly. Natalie was good at chaos, because she knew nobody had watched the position she had fired from- the small alley being empty, as the majority of men were moving to the wall, to fight the big giant that had decided to start laying waste to the compound's walls.

Natalie heard the whoosh of the Anti-Radar missiles, as men ran to the rooftop, to the IGLA and ZSU platforms, Natalie aware that she had to respond a little faster than they already were. One round left for the RPG-72. This was going to be creative. The Anti-Rader missiles almost blew apart the area that the Tunguska was in and the Mobile AA itself, but the concrete structure still stood, the two-storey block having a wall or two blown apart, but being structurally intact. Natalie changed that. Another rocket into the left hand side, and the structure almost completely collapsed, as the people on the roof realized suddenly what was going on. Natalie moved to cover, and had the PKP ready, as the whole shitshow collapsed down, Natalie shooting those who jumped, before then ducking down harder behind the concrete pillar, feeling bullets spray past. She caught one with her leg and another right into her left buttcheek, squaling like a pig. Victor could extract that one, she thought to herself, as she lobbed a grenade, before falling back. Moving quickly, she heard the sound of more fire from the other side of the compound roar, as well as the sound of AGMs rain down into the compound's helicopters, Natalie moving down into cover behind a Bulldozer of sorts. Hitting the clacker, the vehicle depot was up in flames, as she reloaded the bulky PKP, doing it with a pace and precision that most didn't have with a LMG like this. She raced through it, though was just as precise as any other person would want a gun like this to be reloaded.
"Central, AA is down, send the helicopters in. Maxim is within 500m of my reach, I can subdue him if required." She added, as the radio buzzed.
"Copy, Black Eagle. Do not kill, I repeat, do not kill him." Ilya simply said, as she chuckled.
"I'll give him an experience." Natlaie said to herself, as she changed comms channels, to Victor's usual.
"Good work, Brute. I'm securing the HVT. We've got friendly Hinds coming in, try not to kill them. If you want, I could always use a shield." Natalie said, as she took out a few more contacts on the far side, moving to the concrete structure, aware that this was turning to anarchy. They dropped with a fluid motion, as Natalie laid down a volley of fire, the dark-blue/grey camoflaged Russian giantess aware of the fact that there was a lot more to take out. The jets blitzed above, as the dark and bleary rainy Taiga was now getting an additional bloodstain to it's image. The base was completely embroiled in conflict, as Natalie moved from cover behind the bulldozer, keeping her big frame down as best as she could as she used the side of a portcabin for cover, slinging the PKP over her back as she took out her two Skorpions. Chuckling, she moved round, spraying down the group of enemies ruthlessly, sliding over a UAZ's bonnet, as she moved back down into cover behind a container, one that she was almost as tall as, scarily enough. Reloading the two weapons, she kept her head back as a gun opened up, using the moment to inspect her chest.
"Fucking bra..." She said to herself, just feeling it protruding more, just knowing her suppressing bra had decided to give up the ghost. She moved around the other side, and kicked down a flanking enemy, putting one gun to his chest and opening up, as she took out another moving down a stairway of a portacabin, before moving back to her previous cover, switching back to the PKP. Maxim didn't have much choice, but he was going to fight hard, that was for sure.

(DONE)

Vigil!

Please do, if you could. Or at least place it in brackets by it, just for reference.

Vigil!

I think Dry Humor is fine. I think even Lucas will use it sometimes, for sure.

Vigil!

Also, jivusa, what is your character saying, if you don't mind me being nosey.

Task Force Lima (COMPLETED)

GG. Skyth, Silverwind, go right ahead. I haven't given you a lot to go on, but from here on out, I do hope that things get a little louder, as the team clambers up onto the rooftop. I know Skyth's got Medved, and Silver, you can do basically whatever would be logical at the time for Scott to do in terms of reconaissance on the rooftop.

Vigil!

Austin's character is going to be probably one of the few points of contact with Lucas, I should advise. Think the relationship between T-Bone and Pearce in Watch Dogs, though of course, I only ever take inspiration, so it's very likely to be even completely different to that.

As for Lucas, if the backstory does seem a little inspired from anywhere, if you threw Watch Dogs, Punisher, and half a dozen other sources of vigilantes in, you'd have Lucas.

Burning Rubber (Bee and kingkonrad)

The corners came one after another, as Ryan kept his composure, each and every turn, just staying concentrated, just taking it on one corner at a time. The car was feeling like it wanted to die, but Ryan couldn't let that happen. He had pole. And he was staying on it, no matter what. Muller went in close as they swept through the left-right hander chicane at the end of the straight leading to Turn 8, Ryan having to brake early but fend his outside tight, as the car slid through, the roaring V10 absolutely beautiful, as Ryan's blood swept through, his forehead sweat covered and every nerve in his body fighting, like absolutely mad. The next straight was just as sweepingly quick, and Turn 11, 12 and 13 were a nice complex, Muller trading a little paint with his bumper, like the tiniest of nudges. Ryan held on. The car was going, and he knew that Gina was right on him, willing to slip through on the one mistake he could make going on the offensive. Through Turn 19 and 20, Lucas pulled roughly 2/10ths of a second away from being basically in the Z4's grill, and the next corner, the penultimate one, wasn't an event. The last one, the kerb rolling under the spent hard compound of the R8's tyres, was uncomfortable, but doable. Getting round, the Z4 close, Ryan floored it. The cheqered flag awaited.

-----

Pulling into the pit lane, and then in front of the garage, Ryan cheered, as he stepped out. Lucas watched on, just happy for him, as Lucas took his helmet off and stood on his car, klaxons in the audience blaring. Muller was the real champion, but here, in this race, Ryan had did it. As Gina pulled in, and took her helmet off, Ryan hugged her, a little high on the moment, as he looked over to the podium.
"Whoo!" Ryan yelled, as he smiled, just knowing that this moment was too good to ignore. Deep down, however, something said that this was in vain. That he was second anyway. In his first season of GT3, yes. But second wasn't something that felt worthy after today. Not the way he had raced.

----

OST

The end of the race had been a climactic event, with the whole event being something wicked. It was surreal, just brilliant. First place was good, though second in the series did feel like it had let Ryan down a little. The podium and medals had come out, and it had been a huge event, with at least three hours between then and now. A press conference, a bit of news here and there, and then that was it. It had been a hell of an event. He sat in the garage, head back, looking at his R8. Lucas walked past, patting him on the shoulder. Though that said, Lucas did feel angry. A little betrayed. This was a lot of effort, and not for a lot. Second in the championship was great, but for the first time, he wasn't getting a lot of reward. Maybe others had seen the potential, but the team hadn't.
"You did good, kid. Not bad. Second is good, the whole season, in your first go. Not a lot of people get to do that. Gina pulled out a cracker of a performance too. So, what now?" He simply asked, as Ryan looked over.
"I don't know. GT3 is good, but I've got a few other offers. Better paid. Better accommodating, in some other disciplines. And I know you don't like your job either. Could move." Ryan simply said, exhaling.
"Look, we got the car running as good as we could, there's nothing more we can give..."
"No, horseshit. The car was great, we were great, and I'm the first loser. We won't even get bonuses. Second in my first fucking season. Just like you said. You should be getting paid, Gina, me. That sort of performance, from a team that's expected mid table. That includes you. We were asked the world and didn't get the world, so here we are. Lot of money down the pisser. And I don't want to be about when Sean goes through another fucking brief." Ryan simply said, exhaling.
"And anyway, I want something new. GT3 was good this year. Touring Car racing was good too, but I'm seriously thinking of going back. Besides, rather than getting stressed out, I want to sit in that car and know I'm not racing for some dick's management scheme." Ryan added, as Lucas nodded.
"If that's how you feel then. I'm with you if you go. My bonus will be cut, but wherever the hell you're thinking of going to, it better be good." Lucas replied, as Ryan nodded, taking his baseball cap off as he looked out at the darkness, then at the two R8s, and back to Lucas.
"I have a good place to go, I think I have a rough idea." He simply said, as he stood up, looking around, as he checked the time.
"Shit, those visitors are meant to be here. Said they'd stop by. Come on, Gina." Lucas simply said, as he headed to the rear exit, looking over.
"Gotcha."

Heading out, the parked cars sat right in front of Ryan, the sight of a fairly rounded out Scot sitting on the bonnet of a red Mercedes-Benz C63 AMG, and his feminine partner by her vehicle, both here to visit this particular pair of racing drivers. There were many reasons, many, many reasons. And it brought a smile to Ryan's face, as he saw them both. They looked formidable, like they were good friends, and good rivals on the road. People that were as fast as they said they were.
"Second place isn't bad. Good to see you two." Ross simply said, as Ryan chuckled, Ross's face one of confidence, just knowing already of what Ryan felt; even though he didn't race himself, he could tell it from afar.
"Don't see you out on the racetrack, Ross."
"The road is ours." Ross said, chuckling, as he patted the bonnet of his C63.

-----------------

Dubai, United Arab Emirates

Part Two: Horsepower

OST

The C63 roared, as Ross put his Oakleys down, shifting up as he heard the 6.2l V8 thunder, as the skyscrapers of Dubai lined the streets, Ross pulling right into the exit, the sight of two very fast cars moving through the center of Dubai a centre to see. The sun was out, and the evening was slowly coming in, as the sun did veer off to the West.
"Down here, Kimberly, don't look behind! There is a fuckload of police, they look pissed!" Ross added, turning down the music a little, as he braked hard, the rubber screaming as he pulled hard into a tight 90 degree turn, smoke blaring from the rear wheels as the distant noise of cop cars could be heard.
"We're approximately four miles out, we've got not long left. Fuck me, whatever we are carrying, I have a horrible feeling it's gonna cost us if we stop, more than just a speeding ticket..." He simply added, overtaking slow moving traffic, moving onto the opposite side of the road, as he slid back in, just gunning it through, the tyre smoke and roaring V8 blaring. Turning left, he moved into a smaller alley, the noise of cop cars flooding, as Ross kept on the gas, just knowing he had to keep up the momentum. The Red C63 had been a beauty, and the Sheikh that wanted this car back, had something inside from Abu Dhabi. Something that needed delivery, and fast. It needed to be incognito too, so Ross being the entrepreneurial person he was, knew that it was always time to have a little bit of a race. No JDM, but muscle, stuff that was going back to the Sheikh afterwards, stock but powerful. And it felt awesome. Pacing back onto the Sheikh Zayed Highway, the traffic building as the day came to a close, Ross put it back into fifth, already thundering back on the pace, weaving through cars, just loving this. Right in the center of Dubai, they were transporting something, and it was total anarchy.
"More cops, right ahead! Back off the motorway we go!" Ross added, as he turned right, back off the highway, into some construction work, that he had to smash through a barrier to get through. Keeping the throttle on, he skidded around a crane, aware the police was a little confused, before getting back on the road, continuing to storm down.