FourtyTwo

Burning Rubber (Bee and kingkonrad)

Ross felt the car roar once more, as it lept into fourth, the deep throaty roar of the flat four and the huge turbo that had been attached, with the anti-lag making the rear occasionally sound like a rifle on full auto, this Subaru being a machine that felt more trackday than four wheel tarmac terrorist. That fact alone was enough to send a shiver through his spine, and it was that fear that made him keep going, just utterly in that moment. The roads curved a little, as Ross flew over a bump in the road, the classic rally traits of this car kicking in, as the ground felt hard, a little Carbon possibly knocked up or dented, as Ross felt the stiff car momentarily lose it's solid grip. Turning on a mini-roundabout, swerving past two slow moving cars, Ross was back on the throttle, before taking a left onto a dual carriageway headed towards Canary Wharf, the sight of three cars ahead a looming aspect. He couldn't even tell what had happened to Kimberly, he had literally no idea that she had spun out a minute ago, and that he hadn't even considered the prospect of her following now. None the less, he knew he had to keep going. She was fast enough to outrun the cops, and smart enough to not trash her car. Kimberly wasn't like that, surely? He couldn't think that. All he could do was focus on going 120mph on a road with a limit three times less.

The car whined, as the brakes felt red hot, the Evo IX ahead and clearly holding a steady line. Ross pursued the car, weaving between bollards and parked cars, another 90 degree turn putting him close, as the Evo suddenly overdid the turn, the driver clearly not used to four wheel drifting, or at least keeping a dead level car control running. The car suddenly shuddered, and went off the road, sideways, smashing into a brick wall and going at least 50m through a grassy knoll, Ross recoiling in that fact. He was too in the moment, too focused, his mind in a different place. He had to get down to it. He still had no idea in regards to Kimberly, and the cops were distant, something was ticking in his mind. Something was wrong. The race was not high stakes, but it felt like it had become so in an instant. Maybe he should go back for Kimberly. He couldn't. His mind perhaps slipped for a second too long, as he had to stamp on the brakes, barely clipping the kerb as he turned right, heading into Canada Square, or the area beneath Canary Wharf. The GPS was going this way, the route even more insane. Flooring it, Ross saw the sight of Joanne ahead, and knew that she would acknowledge him.

Turning by a set of trees on the concrete, Ross kept close, not even drifting, just threading the car precisely through the pedestrianized area, turning out back onto the road and back out towards the Docklands. This was insane, the cops had to be about somewhere...Ross just didn't know. The race felt like it had lost it's flavor, like something bad had happened. There didn't feel like this was the right thing to do. Ross still didn't see the Skyline in his mirror, but Joanne was close. They were going back to the warehouse, to that abandoned site, but yet Ross knew that all shit could raise if he made the wrong move. He was sick of it. Back on tarmac, he put his foot to the floor, and tailed Joanne, tapping the car phone at the same time, getting the voice recognition up.
"Call, Kimberly." He simply said, as his phone replied, Ross cursing, just hoping she would pick up. He couldn't even tell, as he skidded around a corner, the Subaru following the 911, Joanne clearly having the top speed but not the handling and acceleration with the rear-engined beast, impossible to drift without bricks in the front of the car to balance the weight distribution out. Well, at least the older ones were, and that was how Ross found he could at least point a single flaw in an otherwise great car. And in particular, the RWB-kitted 911 was no slouch, not in any way. The wet tarmac as they roared back towards Blackwall could only say it all, as Ross looked over at his phone, unsure if it had connected.
"Kimberly, get Joanne on the line...I've got a really bad feeling about this, if you're still there, just follow signs for the O2 Arena or the Blackwall Tunnel. Just trust me, forget whatever pay there is, there are cops massing everywhere." Ross simply added, as he saw a roadblock on the roundabout, handbrake hard on as he did a 180, flipping the car round, the Subaru spraying grit as the Scot was back on the throttle, not even knowing where Joanne was. She must have made it clear, because this blockade was new. Back on the gas, he headed on the wrong side of the road, slamming over a central reservation as he floored it towards the Blackwall Tunnel, heading towards the O2 Arena, or the Millenium Dome as it was previously known, on the other side of the Thames.
"I'm heading out, buggering towards the south."

State of Siege

I am liking this- we could even get it rolling, just the three of us in theory- not too sure how well it would work, but I could see it working out.

Task Force Lima (COMPLETED)

Skyth, reckon you can get a post up? BTW, cheers everyone for keeping this going- I promise, the end is very, very near :)

Sierra Vanguard (Espionage RP)

Martin could only watch as Cassie drank and drank, almost wanting to chuckle. The poor woman would be out of it, and almost as if right on cue, she passed out onto the table, completely and utterly wasted. It wasn't even something that Martin could guess her state, it was just that she was gone. Thom could only look across at the passed out female agent of Sierra, and only take a grin on his face.
"That's what you get when you have one too many. Carrying her is going to be fun." Thom simply said, followed by an icy stare from Martin.
"We might have wet work over here, local too. Best we do what we do best to sort it out. I suggest you all stay clean after tonight." Martin simply said, chuckling at the thought. Oh, the plans were already on his table, and it was far closer to home. It was Sierra's specialty, in deniable and untraceable activities. Ones that people didn't inspect or know of too well at any level.
"That is, after tonight." Martin said, as he downed a little more vodka, knowing they could sort Cassie out soon. She was dozing now, but no less, she could enjoy that, while Martin enjoyed planning two intricate takedowns of a potential Islamic terror network closer to home.

-----

Two Days Later
Somewhere over London
2300 Hours

The AW109 was a beautiful helicopter, the Agusta-Westland produced helicopter being amongst the fastest executive helicopters on the market, sleek and exactly the kind of thing a buisnessman in the city would have for himself. In black, it meant you meaned business. Martin had his own, letting one of the agency's pilots take it over himself. In the back, he sat adjacent to Cassie, or Liberty, looking out of the tinted glass window. He wore the same suit from the bar, albeit this time after it had been ironed and dry cleaned; he wasn't taking his mentality in the pub when he wore his suit to now, he liked to think to himself. They were different times.
"So it's wet work. We'll go over it again." Martin simply said to her, looking back out at the skyline.
"There's a server bank about three-quarters of the way up 20 Fenchurch Street, or the Walkie-Talkie as they call it. 220m. This is our sort of operation. You go in, any means needed. In this case, you're parachuting in." Martin simply added, looking out, noting that the helicopter was taking them back around over towards the City of London, almost the same as any helicopter.
"Place is locked down, the security is all over the place across the building. We're here because our friend, Ahmed, gave up the name of a very influential Middle Eastern banker, and Bugcatcher, as almighty as he is with hacking, won't be able to get a direct line into their servers, not by regular means. No way that the police can come in, it's too much red tape, and the government does not want this guy to be brought into a scandal. Hacking wise, DDoS and all out assaults are too difficult, but patching a backdoor is going to make Drevan's job a piece of cake, and rather than giving us a drip-feed, we can access their files on demand. Money transfers, even the Swiss stuff." Martin didn't seem even barely fazed about the description, and knew that Liberty knew this full well.

"So we're doing this totally silent. You drop in, find your way down the building, however you want. Drevan will guide you, he's going to soon have control of the building's security system...and you know what that means. You find the server, put the USB in and then get out. You've got a spare BASE rig if you want it, or anything else you've conjured for making a great escape. Not a single round is to be fired, but if you have to tranquilize a guard, you know what to do. We want zero casualties, but fucking people up is an option if you have to roll with it. Don't get caught, Liberty." He simply reiterated, as he patted her on the back, by her rig.
"Bugcatcher, we're 2 minutes out to target. How's the system hack going? We want zero cameras, or even better, tell us where our security detail is. Shouldn't be thick." The bald section leader looked out once more, checking over Liberty's gear. Infiltration equipment, but he had let her pick whatever she wanted to take with her. She knew best, but as he had said, non-lethals only. She would take them down, even if they were armed. After all, these were just security guards, and she was going to be a shadow in the dark, coming from the sky. Martin always reminded himself that operators like Liberty were more than capable at knowing how to get the job done, and whatever vents or quiet sneaking she would do, it would deliever results. Opening the door, Martin stepped back as the wind howled inside, looking back across to her.
"One minute!" He yelled over his headset, looking back at her, then pointing the building out.
"Drevan's watching like the pervert he is through cameras on you and in there, so there's eyes everywhere. Remember, don't kill anyone. There will be paperwork on your desk if you do, and they print it in bundles these days." Martin said, as he held on tight to the rail in the door, the darkness and the lights below being the only thing that illuminated this place, the view of the Thames and the skyscrapers truly stunning.

The helicopter turned one last time, holding a hovering pattern, as the pilot gave a thumbs up.
"Green light, green light! Go!" He simply barked, as Martin simply looked on at Liberty, acutely aware that this was indeed happening. It was another day in the office, as he then shut the door, the pilot bugging out and heading back to the MI6 building.

----

Somewhere in Brixton, London

The operation that Drevan, Martin and Cassie were on felt like a million miles away to Thom, as they drove through Brixton slowly, taking each traffic light and give way sign as it came.
"So the boss says that we're going to find a terror cell over here. Fucking really?" He simply said, rolling down the window inside Lancaster's Aston, the sound of reggae music pounding from a club that they drove slowly by, the smell of weed strong in the air. This felt insane, just totally wrong. The area was deprived, but the influence felt generally positive, apart from the few tower blocks and terraced houses, there were just derelict warehouses and factories.
"You should drop me here and let me get baked, I tell you." He added, chuckling, looking in the footwell of his passenger seat, unzipping a duffel and opening the glovebox. He was fully aware of the situation they were in, and getting stoned was the last thing on his mind, however tempting it was.
"We've got some serious firepower. And if there's the dozen that this guy coughed up, then we're going to have some hell to pay. You know me. I'll hold and chase any runners, you're clearing them out. Sensitive stuff, but they gave us the greenlight to shoot up a bunch of terrorists." Thom pulled out one of the MPXs from the duffel, loading a magazine. He pulled out a Colt C8, and loaded a magazine into it, the Canadian-built weapon the mainstay of the SAS, and now in the hands of MI5. It was an M4A1 for all intents and purposes, but it had a little more than just a regular rifleman's use to it. Being shortened and more elegant, it was a rifle for absolutely killing people precisely- this being the rifle he wanted to throw to Lancaster.

"Take another left here, then stop by the gate. They're inside an abandoned factory, don't know what the fuck they're doing there but that's our tip. We got the equivalent of some lad on work experience to check it out, and he says there are some terrorist types there, about a dozen, on the second floor. You'll need to catch their attention, I mean this is loud after all- the police won't arrive in the time that we're gone, and higher ups have this sorted if it does. Fuck knows what they're going to do, but before anyone gets a wind of it, I suppose taking them down and shipping their bodies off before the locals even hear that there was an Al-Qaeda cell in Brixton would be splendid. Try and find any intel or IEDs or terrorist shit in there, Lancaster, we don't want them going off here." Thom added, as he chuckled to himself.
"I mean, they'll kill all the Jamaicans, and that wouldn't be very nice. Us too."

Sierra Vanguard (Espionage RP)

Gonna warn here- I am about to experience Fresher's Week, so a post may be a little slower than usual. That said, I will post eventually, within the week I'd hope. Won't be terribly great, but I will do something, and something that propels this forward.

Task Force Lima (COMPLETED)

That is beyond brilliant, cheers for that. I know it was difficult, but I feel that it wasn't my greatest hour to fit all of that content into one post, and your next one I can imagine will be considerably easier, given what's going to happen next.

Any UK RPers here?

Ah, the People's Republic of Yorkshire.

Task Force Lima (COMPLETED)

I am going to go through it one more time- I think a lot of the problem stems from that I got way too caught up in throwing content in, and didn't really think that through. I did give Scott the opportunity to do as you may have mentioned prior, though I think I was too vague towards the end. It will be edited within the hour, it'll definitely be more react-able if that makes sense.

Task Force Lima (COMPLETED)

Sorry to nag, but anyone going to post?

State of Siege

kingkonrad's characters:

1stSgt Lewis Bastion, Marine Security Guard

First Sergeant Lewis Bastion

Taken in Kabul, Afghanistan, 2013

Lewis is roughly 6"2 tall, and has a fairly athletic build, able to still keep up with the requirements that any US Marine would need to go through despite being over thirty. He has brown shaven hair, and brown eyes, also being clean shaven with minimal stubble, as would be expected of any Marine, even in Embassy duties. A tattoo sits on his shoulder, of 1/1's symbol, "First of the First" which has not ruled him out from Embassy work. He has a light scar running down the right side of his chest, coming from a relatively minor wound sustained in a training exercise four years ago.

In Valverde, he can be seen wearing a standard Marine woodland green MARPAT uniform and BDU (Battle Dress Uniform), with a Marine-standard Lightweight Helmet in the matching camouflage- with other elements of the BDU, such as the IMTV plate carrier and vest, as well as attached load-bearing pouches for magazines, tools and other equipment. Due to the sound of shit going boom outside, the Marines have appropriately scaled up their specialized armory in Valverde, and Lewis is armed with a MARSOC-issued Mk18 MOD 0 rifle, with an attached CompM4 optic and Magpul VFG foregrip, this being a specialized protection rifle suitable for close-quarters battle. The shortened M4A1 is useful in closer-range encounters, but Lewis will still be reliant on his team's marksmen and automatic riflemen if any longer-range fire is required outside. An M45 MEU (M1911) has been also issued to Lewis.

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

Age: 31

Gender: Male

Nationality: United States

Occupation: Commander of Marine Security Guard at the US Embassy in Esmarcion, Valverde

Psyche:

Lewis is a battle-hardened veteran, being a Marine since the age of 19- and as such, his mentality has been forged by that. He's seen multiple deployments for the last decade, but adopting MSG work is different, being something that requires a different change in attitudes. He seems to have a calming presence, even in the worst of situations, somewhat able to not panic and make the wrong decisions. He has served for more than long enough, however, to see that the only thing that matters is the brotherhood between the men, and while his job is to protect and serve the US Ambassador to Valverde, the arrival of the Presidente is something that is going to sit as a deep conflict for him. He views the Presidente as the better of two evils, though Lewis still personally questions the decisions the Presidente and Ambassador made, even though on the outside, he appears to be amongst the most loyal of the men in the Embassy to it's defensive. He is deeply suspicious of the foreign mercenaries and even the Presidente's own security detail, sensing their loyalty to Ochoa is temperamental, and that at any time, they could switch sides if they realize Cortes' forces will kill them as well. In that sense, he wants to keep the Ambassador and any civilians alive, but he can't take sympathy with anyone outside of that circle, as they seem similar to the insurgents that they are fighting.

Lewis seems to have a precarious balance between his patience and his wroth, sometimes demanding the crap be cut from others when he is fully aware of the situation. His experience has given him a breadth and wealth of knowledge, but this is the first time that he is in the comparatively smaller force, and he has to adapt to this- with the additional pressure from his men, and the Ambassador making him run double to make sure that no harm comes to those inside. Despite his quick nature under pressure, he knows it will only be a matter of time before he folds and says precisely what he thinks inside to one of Ochoa's men in regards to the whole situation they threw the US Embassy into.

History:

Lewis was born in 1985 in Bangor, Maine, to a schoolteacher for a mother (with roots from Puerto Rico) and a truck mechanic for a father (a Maine local) who had served in the US Navy as a weapons engineer, born into a upper working class background. He had a good upbringing, one that was fairly stable, his parents bringing him and his older sister, Alison, up in a place to do well in life. In this regard, Lewis was lucky, as he did well in school, getting grades that would have usually merited him a place at University. He was even fluent in spoken Spanish, though But this was not for him- he was far more of a sportsman, and his father's tales heeded well with him, as he looked to do something better than simply studying all day, to serve his country instead. He wanted to become a Marine, and was physically and mentally fit enough to undergo their tough training. It was in this way that he left home, with limited support from his parents, and headed to Camp Pendelton.

He joined the United States Marine Corps aged 19 as a bog-standard Infantryman, joining A Company, 1st Battalion, 1st Marine Regiment (1/1) in California- a big shift from rainy and snowy Maine, on the opposite side of the country. This being around the period of the Invasion of Iraq, this was something that Lewis participated in, with three tours in the country, following a redeployment to Afghanistan a few years later around Kabul. He rose through the ranks, and by 28, was promoted to First Sergeant, with the photo being taken on one of his last patrols through a suburb of the city, leading a platoon-sized element of Marines on patrols. He saw several occasions where squadmates were killed, twice to IEDs; yet this doesn't haunt him, as he has always vented the horror to such a situation in a different manner, becoming a little desensitized to it all. He didn't suffer from any PTSD, so to speak, but death was not something that made him feel ill any longer, such was his mind's way of dealing with it all.

He asked his CO to transfer into the Marine Security Guards following the Battalion's withdrawal from Afghanistan in late 2013, leaving for training and qualification back in the States. He felt like it was the best option for him, a quieter one that would put his language skills to use, and one that would allow him to continue to serve the Marines and see the world, albeit in a different fashion. Due to the length of many of his tours, any relationships that he had quickly melted away when he left for Afghanistan, and he saw the same happen with his family when he left for his duties as a Marine Security Guard, his sister Alison almost pleading with him to give it up and settle down into something more comfortable closer to home. It was perhaps Lewis's knowledge that it would leave him bored and lackluster that made him defy that request, and continue on regardless.

Initially, Lewis was posted as a second-in-command to the Commander of the MSG in Panama, working as an ad-hoc interpreter at the Embassy due to his knowledge of Spanish, and following 18 months of service in Panama City, he was given the offer to work in Valverde, a South American "Democracy" of sorts, as the Commander of the US Marine detail there. Willingly accepting this, Lewis found himself working with the Ambassador on many an occasion, and prior to the civil war, saw the intensifying disdain for Ochoa fill up in the air, thick like soup.

Halfway through his deployment 18 month deployment, the civil war arose, and six months after that, the forces of Cortes were at the gates of Esmarcion, and shells were going off outside. Lewis gathered quickly from the Ambassador that an evacuation would be difficult for their own embassy staff, let alone Ochoa at this point- the full evacuation of the embassy was not complete, and the Marines would be the last men out, with the Embassy running throughout the facilitate the evacuation of foreign nationals in Valverde. With Ochoa arriving at the Embassy, tensions are running high- Lewis sees it as a needless risk to the Ambassador's safety, that of which his personal and his men are there to personally provide. First Sergeant Lewis Bastion is aware that there is no way out for anyone, but the way he sees it, Ochoa is not helping that situation one bit.

Elizabeth MacAlpin, US Ambassador to Valverde

Elizabeth Emily MacAlpin

Elizabeth is roughly 5"7, and despite pushing almost forty years of age, still looks remarkably young on the whole, though the aging process has clearly begun with parts of her. Her blonde hair and white smile go perfectly well with her role, representing the highest level of diplomatic authority in Valverde that the United States has, her gravitas matching her appearance.

Due to the conflict, Elizabeth has been issued a Dragonskin vest and been told to stay away from windows and entry points in the embassy, her usual dress exchanged for something a little more practical; that of a woolen black jumper and a skirt, as well as having her handbag with US diplomatic chits and authority. She has been issued a concealed-carry Glock 17, to be used as an absolute last resort, though she has very little intention of putting her life on the line and using it if the embassy becomes breached.

-------

(To be referred to as Ambassador MacAlpin/Madam Ambassador or simply Ambassador by all those who DO NOT know her personally/closely within the Embassy. Diplomatic protocol and shit, apparently.)

Age: 37

Gender: Female

Nationality: United States

Occupation: US Ambassador to Valverde

Psyche:

Elizabeth is a tough woman for an ambassador, this young in the diplomatic trade to be an ambassador is a remarkable feat, considering some of her peers are a whole decade older when posted to countries as turbulent as this. She seems to have a strong resolve, one that has clearly shaped her thinking in regards to the situation in Valverde, and she is a strong supporter of Ochoa, perhaps slanted in her view of his efforts in the country. Though she takes problem that he has put more of the Embassy at risk, she understands that him and his men must seek refuge in the US Embassy building, and that it will be defended, so to keep the status quo of Ochoa's government alive. She seems kind and exceptionally gregarious on the outside, putting others first before her own evacuation in order to serve the American expat community in Valverde, from geologists working for oil firms to ecotourists, yet still seems steely and cold about the reality of Ochoa's regime, supporting him in his actions and seeing no wrong with such a great Presidente- with the rebels clearly narco-terrorists seeking to cause anarchy in the country, from her view. She is worried for her own safety, but understands she is in safe hands, and that at the end of the day, she is an American diplomat- and that her status will keep her safe even if the night ends with Ochoa dead, one way or another. Hopeful thinking, but to Elizabeth, it is a probable reality from her point of view.

History:

Elizabeth Emily MacAlpin was born to a diplomatic family, and perhaps, that was precisely where she took her roots from. Her father Roy worked in the US Embassy in Mexico as the US's Ambassador, while her mother was an ex-divorcee from a CEO of a steel manufacturing company, both being very rich indeed and giving Elizabeth a comfortable upbringing indeed, to go ahead and achieve whatever she wanted in life. And Elizabeth did precisely that, when she went abroad to the United Kingdom, studying Political Sciences at Cambridge University.

She was set for a career in politics, and her multi-lingual nature, being able to speak French, Spanish and Portuguese due to her father's personal tutors also teaching Elizabeth, meant that she was to follow in her father's footsteps. Despite having broadly Democrat views, she didn't see herself as a Representive or a Senator of sorts, not wanting to go through the chase of politics in the US, but rather, to serve the United States abroad, and do what he father had done.

Graduating from Cambridge, she worked in a Consulate in Rio de Janiero, before being made the Head of Consular Services at the age of 30 for Chile, working out of Valparaiso and Santiago for four years. Diplomacy came naturally to her- she found herself able to adapt to the cultures of the different countries she worked as a Consular Representative in, being able to help expats and those in trouble from the United States to the best of her ability, as well as being able to represent the USA and it's mutual interests with other nations' leaders. In this period, she was entrusted to work with several NGOs in the broader South American region, from US-backed think-tanks to Poverty-Reduction schemes, one such scheme being FutbolAid- a scheme helping to kickstart grass-roots football leagues for teens in Spanish-speaking South American countries, in order to reduce pressure on drug users. It was a moderate success, and Elizabeth's talent for things such as this would only be picked up by someone higher than herself.

She was promoted once more, selected by Obama himself, to be the American Ambassador to Valverde, and this is a role she accepted gleefully, working alongside Presidente Ochoa, a man that she met on several occasions. The two made a strong friendship, and despite some disagreements, she gave the US a line on which to occasionally peer in on Ochoa, and that his fight against the rich Cartels was actually working. On the surface, Elizabeth believed it, and still does; with the Valdeveran Civil War being an event that she sees as being triggered by Cartel leaders wanting to depose Ochoa with a moderate, Anti-US figurehead.

This could not happen, and while the Embassy became higher and higher guarded, with the number of guards doubling from 10 to 20 and having various protection elements installed, it proved to be that Ochoa would rather hold his last stand inside her embassy. Following a limited evacuation of staff throughout the last three months, airspace and other issues, relating to the fact that Cortes' forces are believed to be threatening and even killing US expats, Elizabeth has given the order for the Embassy to be locked down, and held against any further attacks from Cortes's forces. Only problem is, Ochoa is making the Embassy look like a bigger target, and she has little idea of the reality of the systematic high-level corruption in the country (knowing only of low-level events), despite her diplomatic nouse. Putting faith into her Marine Security Guard and the UN's peacekeepers, she wants to keep the peace and hold the line, until there can be a wider American support to quell the situation before Ochoa is finally deposed.