FourtyTwo

State of Siege

The Embassy of the United States, Valverde
1015

The Ambassador looked around, looking across at Lewis, the Marine clearly with a certain look on his face. The MSG was spread out, and on guard, clearly anticipating something. That something was the arrival of Presidente Ochoa, and both Lewis and Elizabeth knew the stakes here. Things would get very nasty, very quickly, if things were not sorted out properly. Hence why right here, Elizabeth had wanted to talk to Lewis, one on one, in her office. The windows were barricaded up, and only a tiny slit existed, barely letting a fraction of light into the beautiful room. Lewis wore his BDU, and had his Mk18 slung over his chest rig, Elizabeth wearing her vest and perhaps less-ambassadorial clothing. Things had gotten to a melting point in here, and that was without the sight of artillery now dropping into here.

Elizabeth sat up a little, breaking the silence.
"Well, Commander, it has come to this. Ochoa is coming over. You are to respect his presence and work with his security team in defending this embassy, that order is clear. But I want you to understand that we still have American citizens still taking shelter."
"I counted at least 15, every one of them civilian, Ambassador. Plus we've got two Canadians, at least three Australians and a German national here. It's a lot of people that we have to take care of. There's about half a dozen embassy staff, whoever chose to stay. They did a good job getting whoever we could out." Lewis simply replied, coughing a little as he cleared his throat.
"Agreed. So, brief me once more, you have prepared a defensive? These windows look tough." Elizabeth said, chuckling, looking out of the slit, before sitting back down in her chair, the Ambassador knowing that the metal reinforced windows were not enough in their own right, something Lewis looked to agree on.

"It won't be much if they bring heavy weaponry or artillery, but it keeps snipers from seeing into our every move. I have 28 men, excluding myself, on defensive. Armed with everything from M16s to M4s, a couple of marksman rifles and two M249s, some very light Anti-Tank weaponry. Ambassador, in a nutshell, we have quality but no number. We can't hold an army, but whatever you're planning, we can hold long enough. I promise that."
"Well, it better be good enough with what Ochoa is bringing. He has his own guard, plus his UN protection. You will be friendly with them. It will give me enough time to pursue the diplomatic channels that we need to break open, and save this country. Ochoa isn't falling from power today, and his men will assist you."
"Ambassador, if I may...they're mercenaries and thugs. The Estonians are great men, but they're only Blue Helmets. The people Ochoa surrounds himself with are liabilities.."
"I understand your concerns, Commander. But times are tough, and as you say, you can't hold an army. Let us be frank, 28 men against several thousand is not the best odd in the world. So if you can, make them the force that CAN hold an Army, Commander. You are the Commander of the Guard here, and they'll follow you, I shall tell Ochoa to make damn certain that they do, no matter who they are." She said, exhaling, looking over at Lewis once more.
"We haven't got much time, you should prepare for Ochoa's arrival. As should I, he's going to be shaken up when he sees me."

"Circumstances mean we have to go on, Ambassador. You look good." Lewis said, as he stood up, escorting Elizabeth towards the door, headed out back down to the lobby. The corridors were dark, the electricity out, and all in heaps of mess- paperwork was lying about, and it felt disorganized, trashed already, though no fighting had broken out. It had been a rush to get the most risky paperwork away from here, and now, they had to do something to protect the rest. Elizabeth turned her head, the blonde haired woman looking across at the grizzled Marine.

"Thank you for the compliment, but I fear it won't do me any good when I have to explain to Ochoa why I'm wearing a vest already, and am somehow still here to help him. Poor fellow, I do feel for him, having the country he loved torn from him. If Margret Thatcher was in my position, she would have done the same, done anything to help a bastion of some sort of Democracy. No U Turns, a Lady of Iron. Looks do not matter to me Commander, action does. Tell me, do you like Thatcher, Commander? Be honest, Lewis." She asked, perhaps her mind diverted from the frame of topic right now, as Lewis at first struggled to answer the question, leading the way down the corridor as they turned right, heading towards the lobby.

"A great woman, truly uncompromising in her ways. But she fell down on that too. I don't know politics, Ambassador. That is your task, not mine I'm afraid. We won't let harm come to you or anyone taking refuge here." Lewis simply replied, just giving a straight answer, and a straighter assertion, one that he somehow hoped he could still do, despite the mercenaries and various UN forces that would add to fuck it all up.

The MSG was spread through this building, all equipped fairly similarly to the First Sergeant, in MARPAT Woodland and armed with a variety of rifles and other weaponry, equipped for fighting a war on a limited scale, a defensive one at the very least. They were Marines, and Lewis knew that Marines did what Marines did. They didn't let go of embassies, and somehow, it was a nice fact to cling to, even if he knew realistically it would take something short of a miracle and or air strikes to repel any enemy advance, which was looking impossible in either case. Elizabeth had held hope, Lewis had seen, but the Ambassador perhaps ultimately knew that gett. In the lobby, a set up had already been made, of metal tables that were on the stairs, offering little to no cover for those entering the building and a suppressing point to fire down into it. It was a kill zone, no less, and Lewis knew that it was features such as these that would hold the line. Moving ahead of the Ambassador, he looked across to two men setting up a barricade at the top of the other arch, nodding as he yelled across.

"Sanderson, Bingham, get the bags up onto the balcony, get a couple of 249 boxes there and make it a nest! Harris, you got the wire up yet?" He yelled across, as Sanderson, a Marine armed with an M249, gave a simple "Aye, Aye" and followed his collegue, as Lewis looked back across at the rest of the lobby.
"We got the rest of the razor wire up at the rear entrances, Commander. It's not perfect, but it's going to take hell to take apart." He replied, the Corporal walking over, as Lewis stepped off the stairs, looking across to the two men, a little out of breath but still raring to go.
"Come with me, bring CPL Collins. We're doing front security, Ochoa's convoy is arriving. Phillips and Adams can pull back from the front gate as soon as our VIPs are in, it's hustle time once they are here, every fucking rebel on this face of the country will want to be here. Let's go." Lewis spoke with an authoritative, platonic voice, knowing this was how you addressed soldiers, even if it was in front of the Ambassador. She seemed hardly fazed, aware that perhaps normal diplomatic protocol broke down here, that you couldn't operate normally as you would. Things were different now, and the lobby even felt like it, despite being the marveling front entrance of an American embassy. The marble floor was covered in dust already as the team moved to the front, Lewis looking back towards Elizabeth, the ambassador clearly having some sort of mad resolve to hold this line. She had faith in Lewis, that much was visible, and Lewis had faith in her. It seemed mutual that in a situation like this, she could tell him honestly what was going to happen, and he could somehow improvise how it would. She seemed out of place, but Lewis knew that somehow, they'd figure this one out. Him and his team would make sure no harm came to this place.

----

1020

Out the front of the embassy, the cars pulled in, the guards that Lewis commanded letting the convoy through, the white UN lorry and the black Lincoln pulling in front of the Embassy's gleaming structure, as Lewis headed out, looking across at the men that were now clambering out. The Lincoln's doors opened, as Lewis stood in front of Elizabeth, looking on as the door opened. Lewis stepped slightly aside, looking across. At least six of his contingent were down here, the Main Gate abandoned but covered by a couple of his Marines on the roof, who swept the way that Ochoa and his contingent had taken in. The rest were still on either patrol or observation, posted up across various sight lines of the building.
"Augustin, it is good to see you, my dear." She said, smiling at him, the whole paradoxical nature of this situation clear to Lewis. Elizabeth had met him several times before, Lewis accompanying, and the man never seemed to lose his touch, though on today, that didn't seem the same. He was most definitely stressed, but somehow unaware of how royally fucked his regime was. Lewis could only guess that Elizabeth and him seemed to have connections that worked mutually, both in a diplomatic and personal sense. The rest of his men emerged, and he could see the Estonian detail clambering out of the truck, Lewis uncomfortable and ill about all of this. The Presidente was a man of great caliber, Lewis could tell that from afar. But his guards seemed scary, and the man that Lewis had heard much about, Avdeyev, stood closely by with his MP5K, almost eyeballing up Lewis. The Marine could tell that he was not a man to be fucked with, and was a bodyguard with a fairly standard lack of fucks to give about others. The man was intimidating, truly so. The stare was broken by a fairly confident response from Ochoa.

"Likewise, Elizabeth! It is a shame under these circumstances, but we must do what we can. Once this is over, we can enjoy some Champagne together, I am sure of it." He said, shaking hands with Liz while his heavily accented English came out clear. Her soft hand against his, it seemed like a meeting that could have occured in any other circumstance, no less the fact that this was a massive crisis for both parties involved. The Marines moving back from the front gate said it all, that this was no ordinary meeting, the front contingent on the roof covering as the gate was set to shut, the huge steel bars sealing the compound up, closing it off to the world outside. Apart from looking in, it would be difficult to go straight in, unless you happened to have something heavier than a lorry to go though, such was the design of most defenses for US Embassies. The concrete walls, tipped in razor wire, and general construction of the place would give a false sense of security, even Elizabeth prepared to admit that. It would be short-lived, once they brought heavier weaponry to the fight.
"Ambassador, Presidente, I hate to interrupt, but we're gonna have to get inside. We've abandoned the gate and the streets are no longer safe, I give us minutes till the outside becomes completely unsafe..."
"Fine, Commander. Augustin, my Commander is a tad paranoid, don't mind him. We should head to my office, I need to talk to you regardless. Commander, you should introduce yourself to the rest of these men, I am sure that Augustin would be willing to borrow their services to you." She simply asserted, as she headed inside with Ochoa, Lewis looking on as he nodded to two of the Marines out front with him, noting for them to cover the lobby and the men again. A good number of Ochoa's entourage followed, but the UN troops and some of his other questionable men were left behind, as Lewis looked over. He could tell that Elizabeth did not want to disappoint the Presidente, not today.
"Of course, he can have what he wants, but Avdeyev stays with me, as well as a few of the others. They are the best men I could find, all combat trained, lethal killers. We will make those bastards pay! Elizabeth, have you..."
The tailing voice of Ochoa could be heard, as Lewis looked back to the rest, as they unpacked their gear, as varied and mixed as it could get, as they slowly followed behind, Lewis rallying them up in the lobby, as he looked back at the rest of the lot he had.

"I'm First Sergeant Lewis Bastion, Commander of the Marine Security Guard in Valverde. You are now on United States territory, so congratulations, pop your fucking fireworks, you made it to the land of the free. We are not safe, however, and if anything, there is going to be even more heat here than before, so remember that you now have nowhere else to turn but us. So you're gonna follow our rules, being our guests. And the rules are simple, gentlemen. And that is that you don't fuck around with the civvies in there, and with the Ambassador. Steal shit, you think about stealing shit, you find yourself in a bad position, a very bad one. You follow my men, not command them. I hope that is clearly and loudly understood, or else there will be consequences." He simply added, as he headed up the stairs, sizing up the size of the contingent he had. He had interspersed bits of his first introduction in Spanish, making the point clear on "Stealing Shit" and "Bad Position", though he had mostly stuck to English throughout. Lewis knew it was a talent that meant he could do this job in the first place, but figuring out where and when to say certain things to those who didn't understand clear bits of English was a talent that came with this job in particular, to make clear fragments.
"Okay. As far as I know, I got told that Sgt Alvar is the man to speak to regarding the blue helmets (UN), Estonian fella. Which one are you, exactly?" Lewis asked, looking into the small crowd, barely a dozen numbered, at what he could use here.

"We have business to do, your Blue Helmets are going to work with the civvies, and on finishing up our perimeter defensive. You know your men best, so if you have marksmen or anything of specialty, send it where we need it, my Marines can help you in that. As for the rest of you, I assume you're Ochoa's detail, I hope you know how to point and shoot. Collins, Harris, grab four of these men each and reinforce the overlooks. Brief them on our situation, and check weaponry. The point goes most clear for you. Listen to my Corporals, and don't fuck around. Clear?" Lewis simply added, looking out, as he gave a simple nod, not even cracking a smile or a frown, his face cold and point blank in how it asserted what he needed to point out.
"Good. We have work to do then. Sergeant, what have we got outside the perimeter, how fucked are we exactly?"

State of Siege

Coolio. NPC the shit out of Lewis's Marines, Advanced- the influence between them is key, you can do whatever you wish with them.

EDIT: Poly, I'll probably drop control of Ochoa from here, simply because I want to still use Elizabeth in reaction to him, if that makes sense. I wanted to get them in, probably going to her office, with a couple of his detail and all, with the rest now rallying up. There is an awful lot more to be fleshed out about the MSG and so on, but it will slowly happen as we see things ante up. I will probably see my posts get shorter too, changing in their nature.

State of Siege

Poly, I can use Ochoa as an NPC, right?

Sierra Vanguard (Espionage RP)

Anyone gonna post?

Game of Thrones: The Long Night

Would like to take on the Tyrells, Ruby- sent you a PM.

State of Siege

Yep. I'm game.

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."