Status

Recent Statuses

3 yrs ago
If there are RPs/PM's I need to reply to- I am working on it, I'm a little overladen in life atm. I haven't forgotten about you :)
4 yrs ago
Aaand back.
4 yrs ago
ALERT- I'm going AFK for a week, anyone that sees this on here, I won't be about to respond, this is to both 1x1s/RPs.

Bio

I've RP'd for the best part of over five years now here on the Guild, and particularly like military settings, both contemporary, past and near future. I have even dabbled in a little more experimental RPs, as well as created a plethora of 1x1s over my time in the guild. I've spent time in many an RP, and like creating RPs with a distinct flavor.

I'm pretty flexible and try and get back to people on ideas and responses, but sometimes, I may become very busy and it will take some time till I am un-busy- though I always come back!

Most Recent Posts

Somewhere in Southern Baja

The insanity had come to a close, as Mark smoked a cigarette, gently taking a draw as the light aircraft lifted off the ground, the Caravan taking Ross and Ellie out of there at the teeny airport. Mark had to say, it was strange to be back in business like this. He was a greedy bastard, after all. But perhaps there was something underneath it all, something that gave him a purpose to it all. On the sunset sky that filled the sky of Baja Sud, sitting in the shade of the teeny little crapshack they were outside.

He had to think how it had gone down. He'd set up some fire at the front and given them an opportunity to slip away, and then he did. Ross had followed Athena, to the letter, and kept up the fire. And Ellie had gotten out. After they'd found a car further down the road in another villa, they'd gotten out, and left no trail that could be traced. There were a lot of dead bodies, and all of them meant that the line was cut. The anchor was gone. Whoever had done this, was dead as a doornail. Mark had seen to it very personally.

Mark heard Athena walk up behind him, as he slowly turned in his plastic chair, case in hand.

"Well, I'm taking this away. For starters. But then, I don't know. There's a lot of questions we didn't ask each other still, I think partly as we're far too polite." Mark added, as he stood up, looking up at the aircraft, watching it fully lift away into the horizon, getting further and further. Mark had to wonder how much he had really said to anyone, at this point. The underworld criminal, the scumbag who was like John Wick and killed people like it was nobody's business. Heading over to his other case on the table he sat by, his Sig inside, he looked back up at her.

"Athena, I have a question for you. Maybe let's just say we should clear the air on this." He asked, knowing he'd pique her interest.

"Did you look up my service history? My medals? What I did as a Royal Marine, a decade ago?" He asked, shaking his head, taking in Athena once more.
"I looked you up. You are good at your job. Several years of service, the model operator. You follow authority, procedure, paperwork, saving lives, not ending them. Cops do that. You follow the rules and make it work. I have a very healthy respect for that." Mark said, nodding, the ginger-bearded bald man unwavering in his Scots accent, more so than even Ross.

"And you did look me up. And you found that thing that really annoyed me too. Dishonourable Discharge, in 2008. I broke a Lt Colonel's nose on a training exercise because he bent the rules and they...did not like that. It seems really strange that they let someone who seems to have no remorse, no moral boundaries or concern for the standards of the higher ups." Mark looked onto the horizon, then back at her.

"What happened after that? Strange that it seems so....quiet, right?" He asked, knowing what the response would be. Nothing did. He went blank, seemingly self-employed into what any man of his repute would. He had a Linkdin, for crying out loud. PMCs, Security, Consulting. Boring, shitty jobs. Perhaps she'd say the other thing. Being a hardened criminal, robbing and stealing and taking scores, and having Ross as his main getaway driver. But Mark, to his credit, knew that Athena was not Ross. A man he had trusted for almost half a decade, if not more wasn't going to hear this. Best it was kept that way.

"Well....Athena, you may think of me as a criminal. I'm a greedy fucker by tool and trade. That's what you would expect of someone like me. I wanted to help my friend when he needed it, so that added fuel to the fire when I saw that there was a co-benefit in my favour too. Right?" Mark shook his head, gently patting the case.

"Except, I do serve someone. I can't tell you who I work for. It has a lot of redacted on it anyway. What I do was the only way to find out about transnational criminal networks, far, far bigger than just some crappy little gang of thieves. A Transnational Facilitator, or TNC for short. The criminal organisations that are your full-fat criminal organisations, think your multinational corporation but with guns and drugs. The kind that corrupts third world governments, and can create rogue states, if they don't already. Way above your paygrade, believe me. It helps when you have the right mask on, and don't play by the rules. Makes you seem like ideal cannon fodder." He added, chucking the cigarette onto the floor with a light chuckle, and gently rubbing his boot against it.

"A similar incident happened in Paris, but the case got delivered. Ross and Kimberly got caught up in the crossfire. The Panamanians wanted to ship it to the first bidder that wanted it so they could scalp a lot of people. A routine, clandestine transfer of tracking equipment used to monitor a number of individuals at two separate meetings on two separate continents. The people I work for that made the move didn't have many choices there and then for how they did it, so street racers were their best bet. Well, it was their best bet, till it turns out that somebody fucking leaked. Someone that they're going to probably throw in prison very soon indeed. Poor bastards suddenly have their trousers pulled down. So naturally, they wanted their cases back." Mark added, patting it once more.

"They thought all hope was lost till we found a lead. And when Ross called, it seemed too inconvenient not to let him join in. Not when I knew just how deep he was. It was risky to talk, especially after I'd cut him out of the system. Indirectly, I was always watching, always knowing what he's up to. The amount of fines he's racked up on an illegally fraudulent account is genuinely staggering. Anyway.....he wanted revenge. And revenge is a powerful motivator. One that I knew he'd want me on board for, his trusted friend. It brought you here too. And you had to know that I was the wrong kind of scumbag with the wrong kind of connections to even consider coming here. Giving that up would be dangerous, after all." He could see the anger on Athena's face, as he looked up, clarifying it quickly.

"I suppose owed Ross a favour too, after....well, Ross was hugely useful to me as an asset, driving faster than anyone, cop or criminal could get him. Thing is.....he didn't even know. Robbing, racing and stealing shit to him was all he knew. And he was good, deep down. Just has a passion for going fast and well, what he is involved in isn't exactly big-time. Not my operation to catch. He's not worth the hassle. Neither is Kimberly. They'll be fine, and I know that from knowing the lad. It's best that they never do know...if they did, it's only gonna get more messy." He added, checking his watch, and looking back to Athena.

"The point I'm trying to make here is, this is bigger than you think. Getting this sorted works for a lot of people. Us too. The organisation we are tracking works in Central Asia, for fuck's sake. And a bunch of Panamanian thieves nearly gave them our monitored recordings of them, if they'd have even known. This organisation has its tentacles in things from as diverse as supplying guns to Islamic terrorist cells in exchange for heroin in Afghanistan, distributing ecstasy in Western Europe, to creating political corruption in Bulgaria and running human trafficking networks in Mali. All connected through smaller organisations, but ultimately, creating a network that fuels crime on a scale you won't believe. There's people richer, dirtier, and more fucked up than you can believe. This isn't the Mafia. This is a crime organisation that works on the same metrics as Apple here." He said, pausing momentarily.

"I'm telling you this because you're a cop. You want to do the right thing, and you have rules, logic, procedure, paperwork. You take down criminals that you see and want to make the right call. I deal in the ones that you don't even know exist. And that means we do things on a very different scale. A scale that requires a mask so watertight, it makes you more than a bad guy. It makes you the scary bastard that fits every single picture, that these people haven't paid off or killed yet because they don't even know you're coming for them. I don't work often well with other people. But you, Athena, I respect. I might need you again someday. And I will contact you if that time comes." Mark added, the noise of the plane engine now fully gone, as he stood up, taking case in hand.

"I'm going to drive out of here. There's a domestic flight arriving in about half an hour, flies to Mexico City. I'd recommend you take a link to Newark after that." Mark took the other case, shaking his head, standing up as he headed to the car, turning his head. He was blunt as ever, and felt like he cared for Athena. In some weird way, he felt like it was a strange twist for her to hear, after what he had projected. But after the others had left, perhaps only something felt right, felt comfortable here and now, to tell her what he thought.

"What I just told you is strictly confidential. You do not tell anyone what I just said. Mostly because it'll make you sound like a raving loony and none of the evidence will really fit. Partly because your record is so good, I don't want you being pulled up when they ask why the hell you went and shot up a Mexican villa with a suspected armed robber. You are a smart girl, Athena. Someone who helps people more than you think....so I don't think we'll have any problems with that, aye?" Mark said, chuckling, taking his pack from off the table, and the keys for the Jeep Cherokee that they'd stolen to get here.

"Goodbye, Athena." He added, unlocking the car as he opened the passenger door, throwing his bag and cases inside, before getting in. He'd made his goodbyes. Now, he was going for a long drive into the sunset. And done his bit. Perhaps it would have come as a bit of a bombshell to her. Sitting there, near that airport confused as hell. Not a clue what the hell had just happened. But Mark had played even someone he'd known for half a decade, pretty much everyone. At that point in time, the criminal that had gone and killed an awful lot of people was leaving.

"Not enough", he reminded himself. That was because contrary to his calm demeanour, that the case didn't matter, it did. And if they'd have lost it, no doubt the Panamanians would have been dead in a matter of days anyway. The Cartel would have sold them up shit creek when they realised, and the trace they had on Ross and Kimberly could have been worse. That wasn't going to happen. As he set off on the dusky tarmac road, he thought what he had really done. Ross, Kimberly, Ellie, Seb, Athena, Michael, shit, all of it was out of the picture now. They could live their lives, like nothing happened, and be completely unaware of the boogeyman that they had nearly ended up with.

And yet here he was, thinking to himself, wondering just how to go on. There was more shit he had to do back home, more leads to follow. Maybe the underworld that thought he was doing this for his own greedy needs. To do a sale himself and Ross was probably thinking that right now. Ironically, that was exactly the point. This case was a MacGuffin that would actually bring out who they was looking for, recovering and yet exposing a paw of the TNC that they were hunting down. And that was worth far more than any money, any small-time gang, anything. It was substantive, real and a chance to put some bastards away in The Hague even. Somehow, this whole operation had gone exactly as it needed to, and Mark's own criminal connections had primed the trap in only a way a masterful chess player could compare to, without even knowing. And yet Mark wouldn't even be rumbled, if anything, it'd reinforce him. And if successful, Mark knew that this was the beginning of the end for an operation that had gone beyond just him, lasting almost a decade and a half. This was the end of those evil bastards. Only way to do that was carry on being the bad guy that the bad guys fear.

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

Part Eight: Reunion

Los Angeles, California

Ross had been busy working in the garage. The truth was, that after Mexico things had calmed down. Mark had called, and he had gone back to England, seemingly back to his life and whatever he did now. Ross didn't ask any questions, but had more thanks than he could give. He didn't ask questions, and he didn't expect any answers.

He was happy just to be back with Kimberly, back with family and what mattered. No more criminality or gangs or anything like that. He was a stay at home dad, helping his wife at her work when she needed a technical mind, and running errands here and there too. Part of him of course felt uncomfortable. In some ways, he felt a little useless, he couldn't do the things she did. Not that he wasn't capable, but well....he came from a very different background. And with the skills he had, he couldn't really go and get a perfectly legal job, not when he had a family. So he found his own way. Tinkering on things, looking after his little bundles of joy and relaxing felt like the way to be, especially after the hell they had gone through.

Looking after Kimberlyn had been an enormous challenge to him. It was a lot more than hospital runs and physiotherapy. It was a lot he had to learn, and he had changed dramatically for it. A lot for the better, he thought. And well, it had taken a toll on him. He didn't take risks as much, he was calmer and seemed to have grown a different kind of charm. The kind that wanted nothing to do with danger but everything to do with doing better than who he was before. Adjusting to this normal, that he could do.

Coming in for food, he felt Ruby run up to him, woofing as Ross chuckled, almost having the dog jump up onto him, slobbering. He was a very intelligent dog, but he was a puppy at heart, so young and little. The smell of Lasagna was wonderful, as Ross took a seat, the plate ready. She cooked a mean feast, he reminded himself, as he tucked in, chuckling as he saw Kimberly look.
"I think I know exactly what you're saying. But the kids aren't going to look after themselves, are they?" He giggled, Mia almost understanding Kimberly's look, that look of "speed" screaming out. Ross sighed, looking through his restricted angle into the garage.
"Hmm.....think your sister can pop by?"

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

Somewhere above Lake Tahoe, The Rockies, Nevada
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wlS6JQ0w5o4
OST- Ride or Die - The Knocks ft Foster the People

Seb looked over, chuckling as he heard Ellie kit up. He'd lost a little more hair in the time, and spent a lot more climbing and freeskiing, rather than doing this. Sitting in a mostly black wingsuit, with light blue accents on the tail and zips, he seemed tanned, adjusting to the beating sunset in the distance.

Seb had to think how it had all played out. Ellie and him had argued, argued like hell and it wasn't fun at all. He couldn't talk to her for months, and he could see she was pretty visibly messed up, even from afar. Something at first- not like she'd been injured or seen someone else get hurt, but more like she had an uncomfortable gaze, one that stuck with him. They'd stayed away, done their own things, and his end had been strangely quiet. Almost weirdly more than usual, given he spent a lot of time travelling, and he'd travelled far and wide. Australia, Asia, remote parts of Greece, mostly for just calm and quiet. He felt like it was needed, given him and Ellie had been so close. Like best friends, but more. He'd watched two friends of his own die in a BASE accident, and whilst it didn't stop him, it had seriously taken him aback. And he travelled, and travelled, skiing, surfing, diving, doing whatever. The sponsors stopped calling after they realised he wasn't taking their calls. In some strange way, Seb had gone and had a gap year.

Till he came back, that is. One day, it flicked back on in his head. Footage started going. He contacted Ellie, and got things back together. Said sorry. For all the horrible shit he said, and wanted it back the way it was. Not out of desperation, out of a lack of money, or anything. But because in spite of it all, he didn't want to carry on living without the only person that really mattered. She looked like she had been through a lot too. And in that way, they could get it back together. Perhaps it was a test of their relationship. But while Ellie never told him, Seb didn't feel he really needed to ask. It was things way beyond his control, way beyond everything. He'd seen his own shit, but he knew somehow, it wasn't the same thing.

And after a few videos, they were back on it again. Things were normal. It felt like a new normal, if that, but it was normal. Jumping off cliffs, skiing in the winter, it was awesome. And right here now at sunset, the run down to Lake Tahoe seemed incredible, if not dramatic. Taking his open face helmet, Seb put it on his noggin, the black helmet and navy blue-tinted goggles going over his eyes, as he adjusted the chest stap on his rig, looking to Ellie.
"Nearly. Just give me a look over?" He asked, spreading his arms and legs, the suit new from the sponsorship windfall they'd made. GoPro were back on board, which was always an exiting prospect. They always loved an exiting project, and Seb and Ellie were always keen to get involved. Grinning at her, he gave her a brief check, nodding.
"I think we're all good then." He pecked her back on the cheek, looking back at one of the cameramen, who was getting into position.
"Don't." He chuckled, Seb's comic timing as good as ever, as he looked back at the edge, stepping down gently as he got his own camera gear set up.

"I'm all good. Drone follows us off but won't even come close to catching us up. Good push and we'll be clear of that ledge below us. DZ's in that clearing there, remember. We've got a thin landing area between the trees, but winds are nice. You have the lead, m'lady. They are live." Seb added, gently patting her on the butt, knowing he was getting the shit slapped out of him when they got down, as he finalised his last zip.
"On your go...." He added, watching her and letting her start this all off.

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

Sonoma Raceway

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=exbmKes0IM8
OST- Be Here Now (Fred V and Grafix Remix) - Hybrid

The NSX sat in mostly green and white, an impressive GT3 car to say the least. The Castrol-liveried GT3 machine was fine, and a proven breed. A 1.2 tonne machine with 500 horses, out of a 3.5L turbocharged V6 was a scary tool and under throttle, Ryan had felt it too. Honda, Acura, same thing he had to remind himself. But under it all, it was a fierce machine. Practice had proven that. With a white and green helmet in hand, and a appropriately liveried race suit, the Brit felt confident to make that machine fly, in the way he knew how to. And the best part of this team....well, the best part of Forge that was, had also come along.

"Ryan, she's set to go. You and Gina are on evens here. Upper brass want to see podiums here in this series. With a car like this, it's way ahead of what we had before, eh?" The Canadian added, Lucas as chirpy as ever, Ryan nodding.

"Yup. Grips absolutely peachy. Let's see what we can get sorted in qualifying." He replied, looking across to Gina, still in her zone. He didn't interrupt her. He had been there, in that position on that bit of the sofa in front of the map doing just the same thing. Taking his white balaclava and Simpson helmet, he gently started to get himself prepared, feeling the heat beat down in the afternoon sun outside.
"Good stuff. I'll be on the comms. You should have a nice window- remember, get the tyres bedded in and don't push this thing too quick. The aero's really well dialled in, so you'll have a lot more grip at speed...almost seems like the car is way better to setup here." Lucas added, Ryan nodding, patting his car. #42, McKay. Back to what he did best.
Ross kept up the fire, putting rounds down range but not like the operator that Athena was. He took his time, a little terrified of course that he was being shot at, and having to take a moment to think about what the fuck he was doing. Peeking around, he popped one shot off at a Sicario who took it to the chest, before looking over.
"We're getting eaten alive here!" He yelled across to Athena, as he heard the whine of metal begin to move.
"Shit!" He yelled, pushing on his door as Athena took the lead, Ross using the remainder of his magazine in the Glock to take one more man down that had run into the centre of the compound, armed with another Glock variant himself. The distraction had been good enough to take their eye off the ball, as Ross ran over towards Athena, sliding across the dirt behind the concrete barricade.

"Fucking hell, that was close!" Ross yelled, as he leaned over cover, taking an accurate shot at a couple of men that were on the far left of their sight, by another outbuilding. Two pulls and another had gone down, the mag dry inside the Austrian pistol. Dropping back down, he looked to the gun bag once more, and pulled out the last bulge that sat inside. It was the M4 that they'd brought from earlier on, the same one that Mark had used near the border town. Sliding a 5.56 inside, and taking a few mags with him, he looked to Athena, nodding as he peeked left of his cover, and put rounds down range. Bullets flew past the concrete, the car was riddled with bullet holes but from this position, they had a fighting chance. They were only coming from one way, and had relatively difficult overview onto where they were firing from. Here they could hold, as they knew that the Sicarios were fully aware of where they were.

-------

Emerging on the other side of the fence, Mark watched as the two sicarios ran past, smoothly emerging from the cover and putting two rounds into their heads. He had a surgical accuracy, and up close, he wasn't going to miss, not when he was in this mindset. He had his own work to do, and a professional would sort this problem of Ross's out. While getting what he was looking for.
"Ellie, nicely done. Ross, Athena, hold your position and make sure nobody leaves through the front door. I'll sort out our friends inside. And see if they have what we are looking for. Once we have this squared away, we are out of here." Mark said, Ross sighing as he heard the remark, looking to Athena with a look to say "This is what he's like. " The Marine lived on somewhat in Mark, as he moved through.

"Okay, listen to me carefully. Ellie, stay hidden and keep out of the way. I'm going to need you for something soon, so stay on channel. I'll take care of business." Mark added, moving towards the back of the old villa, the commotion at the front making it easy to sneak inside. And he did, sliding through the back door as he moved through a kitchen of some kind, the place barren. The noise of guns being cocked could be heard in the next room, as Mark moved through, taking a stake knife from a surface as he turned the corner, and grinning.

"Oi, compadres!" Mark yelled, lobbing the heavy kitchen knife straight towards one man's skull, before laying a singular round through the nose of the other, the silenced P226 making short work of the man's temple. He moved fast, two more coming down the stairs as he put five rounds between them, almost completely effortlessly. If Ross was in panic, Mark was in confidence.

Heading up the staircase, he saw one charge through the door, Uzi in hand as the Sicario yelled out. This was one of them. One of the Panamianians. He could tell from the same bitch-ass look on his face, just like Luis's. The sicario raised his hand but Mark was faster, pushing the weapon away as he twisted the man's arm and used it to hurl him away, weapon out of hand and down the stairs, before a 9mm entered his skull too. Uzi in hand, Mark turned the corner and sprayed inside, blindfiring. That would seem strange, but Mark had already seen the glint through the mirror of what was going on, taking out two more men before entering, Sig raised and poised. One of the men screamed on the floor, as he shot him calmly in the head, textbook as ever. One more was in the far end of the large bedroom, covered in blood, with a case at his body.

"You have it." Mark said, completely cold, any personality leaving him and now, only decisive and scalpel-accurate action left.
"Just one case." Mark repeated, shaking his head.
"How many more of your crew are left?" He asked, the man spluttering, having to raise his voice given the Fallujah-style firefight going on outside.

"Fuck you, pendejo!" He spluttered, blood coughing as Mark walked over, gently putting his P226 straight against the wound in his arm, from the Uzi's spray.
"I grazed you, lucky enough. But there's a bullet hole right in your abdomen. You'll die of shock and blood loss in about two hours. Tell me, or you'll find out what it's like to bleed to fucking death, prick." Mark's Scots accent was utterly terrifying, even to this Panamanian crook, who was now realising that the protection of a whole gang of Sicarios was now gone, his crew dead, and a terrifying man about to be a dimebag executioner.

"You know, we didn't want to hurt her, ese. It was just loose ends....there isn't going to be anyone left, you know. But she played the wrong games. Caught in the crossfire, man. Is that what this is about?" He said, spluttering as he chuckled.
"You're in luck....you might as well kill me now, it was just us five. But you have no idea who wants that case, do you. Or what's inside. Are you taking it back to them?" The bleeding man uttered, Mark dragging him against the wall, as he kept an eye on the entrance, his Sig readied if needs be.

"You seemed to be willing to hire a small army to protect it. I take it that it has value. And that means my trip to your shitty villa isn't in vein." Mark replied, as the man chuckled, spluttering more blood.
"And that still wasn't enough, clearly! You could still help me, man. Get me out of here, I'll tell them to stop shooting your friends. Enough people have died or been hurt over this case..." He said, as Mark shook his head.

"No." Mark stood up, as he walked over to the table, case in hand, before looking back at the bleeding man. He took one good look and insight into what this guy had done, what they had gotten up to. They hadn't gone out and fought on the frontline, which was rather odd. Perhaps more a stickup crew, than an armed security detail. They wouldn't get their hands dirty, but here Mark was, killing half a dozen of them to get what he wanted.
"I think......" He added, Mark turning to the man for one last time....

"Not enough." He gently raised his hand, and put the poor bastard out of his misery, the silenced round blasting through his nose and out of the back of his head, as he put the case on the table. This was for Ross's wife. This was for a bunch of difficult Sicarios that wanted to kill his friends. But more than that. This was for something he'd been looking for, wanting to find for a while. Putting hand to ear, he headed to the window, looking out from the far villa down to the front entrance and the carnage ensuing there.

"It's sorted. Ellie, head back the way we came, we've got what we needed. Ross, Athena, I'm going to flank them and give you a chance to get out of here. It seems like it was a small crew of them in here, and they won't be coming back to clean any loose ends."
(This is overdue as hell. I've covered a lot of ground as I wanted to move on, so I could break my mental block on writing for this section. It's got a lot in it- but feel free to steer it where you like. I want to try and do this RP twice weekly or so :) )

Mark watched on, rifle ready, his finger wrapping around the trigger guard.
"Okay, that's good. I've got a couple of bad guys still there. Keep it calm, and keep your head low. I've got one on his own, and he's heading up to a security post near you. I'm going to take him out, and you'll have a beeline to take around to the rear of the compound. I can see another couple gaps you might be able to fit through. There's....what looks like a small security booth. We could use eyes on their CCTV inside. Think you can get in?" He asked, as he chambered a round, exhaling as he moved his crosshair towards the man's centre mass, looking over. He was behind a glass pane, but he could tell, the glass itself wasn't tempered. He waited for him to step outside, taking a cigar to his mouth and.....

Mark's finger clenched, sending the .300 round straight down the distance from his spot, and into the man's upper chest. Centre mass shot, clean and quick kill. A little bloody, but efficient nonetheless. He exhaled, the straight-pull quick to use as he chambered another round, watching around.
"You are clear. Go." Mark called over comms, as he moved down a little further, reestablishing another spot.
"See what you can do when you get inside. The others are coming closer. Better you're inside and in a safe spot to watch on CCTV than anywhere else. See what you see from there on out." He added, continuing to observe, and waiting for the fire to start from Ross and Athena.

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

Ross nodded to Athena, taking an H&K 416 from the bag, modified with an ACOG and a simple vertical grip on the lower receiver. A set of backup iron-sights were on the side of the weapon, as something to use when the 6X optic on the weapon wouldn't cut it at range. An exquisite tool to bring for the job, and Ross did wonder how on earth Mark had gotten one of these. Scooping a tactical loadbearer out and throwing it over his shoulders, he then took the rifle in both hands, inspecting it over. German-made version of the American classic. Kinda like his old M3 GTS's V8-powered soul.
"Ehh, it's not my speciality. But loud it is." He added, slapping the bolt on the rifle, magazine inside and ready to spit lead.
"I'll follow your lead, but it's better you tell me when. If we're up against Sicarios, shit is going to get real." He said, setting up by her, letting her take the first shots. The ACOG wasn't as good as her scoped G28, but he could just make out Sicarios on the roof, as he joined in. He planted a couple of the men on the roof, taking single shots at a time, a little tremble as he took the first one down, before he took the second.

"Okay, we're done here! Athena, let's go!" Ross called out, tapping her on the shoulder as he led their way back towards the Jeep, his rifle held down as he ran back from their spot towards the vehicle. Leaping in, he hit the ignition, keeping the 416 on the passenger seat, there for Athena to take as a higher-fire rate alternative to her G36 derivative.

Putting his foot down, the Jeep dived down the loose scree, as Ross took it as comfortable as he felt he could. It was not comfortable by most standards, but he wasn't going to die doing this.

"Couple of them, up front!" Ross yelled out, as he saw a couple Sicarios head toward the front of the compound, by the gate of the site. He ducked his head down as rounds smashed into the windscreen, before skidding the car to a halt right in front. Taking his Glock, he put three rounds into one, letting Athena handle the other pair that were there, the compound now fully awake of what was going on. Ross looked up to her, nodding, as he put the Jeep back into first.
"Fuck this is stupid......Athena, hold onto the bar!" Ross yelled, as he drove towards the steel gate. And what followed was not fun whatsoever. As cool as it may have been, there was a reason why a big steel gate won against a big moving piece of American metal.

The impact was heavy as it smashed through, enough to barge an entrance, but not enough to fully open it. They hadn't gone very quickly into it, and so they wouldn't feel whiplash, well, nothing noticable with all the adrenaline they had going through them. Ross was barely able to open the door, and clamber out, using it as cover as a Sicario came out across the driveway, with an Uzi of some kind. Bullets riddled the car, as he peeked the corner of the door, putting two rounds into his upper half, before Ross sat back against it.
"Mark, we're in! What the fuck next?" The bullets were flying in every direction, and Ross was completely aware of just how insanely dangerous this was becoming.

------

Mark looked on, the carnage already building. After Ellie had made her way around, he had begun running down, heading around the compound in a similar path to her, the chaos at the front already enveloping most of the attention.

"Ross, Athena, remember what we're here to do. Get some solid cover, and eliminate anyone that comes out of the front door. Ellie, just stay put for now. Keep watching it and tell us what you see...keep an eye on your back. I'm going to go and pay them a housewarming visit." Mark replied, drawing his P226, R700 now left behind. He was going light, very much so compared to the rest of his crew. But Mark didn't need a lot of weaponry to kill people. He just needed to be in close proximity to a few and his spare mags would do the rest. Firepower wasn't required when you were a skilled wetworker and Royal Marine, not a Sicario thrown an Uzi and told to spray.

Ross nodded to Athena, letting her lead, aware that they'd have to find something a little more substantial in the driveway of the villa, and get ready for an onslaught. He had a strange feeling that Mark was going to do his thing, and that thing was something he did as good as John Wick on a rampage.
Natalie was already smirking back, a shit-eating grin on the other titan's face, simply impressed. After all, her lover had a way of putting things and she couldn't help but agree, the weapon in her two hands heavy but worthwhile, a talent that she had for bearing the tools of her trade.
"Far, too, long. I agree. It is....something I miss too, no?" She said, her cutting Russian accent like fire burning on an ice lake, as she took the rest of her arnament, aware that if the situation changed, they might need to retool. The PMC's considerable arsenal, and no doubt their imminent forward operating base would at least help if that was the case.

Turning towards the exit, the noise of titanium and carbon-composite coupled with armour plating was echoing in the so-called bunker, Natalie's blonde hair tucked into the neckbrace a little more, her cold steely eyes already running the situation through her head. And she had much to think about, given the operation in place. He was right, Thule was mostly useless. The mostly part being important.

"You are right, it is mostly an signals intelligence, and nuclear detection site. It serves little purpose....or perhaps, it's the perfect location for a server farm you want out of any known view. After all, it's almost impossible to reach. Perhaps they are breaking the encryption as we speak, but to bring a force like that, must mean that there needs to be something greater at stake. Something so important they invaded a US Air Force Base and killed a lot of people, capturing the rest, and that worries me." She paused, turning the corner, the noise of the ammo belt clattering against her armour, as she looked back at him.

"I have a feeling we are specialist contractors going in for a reason, and that's because they don't even know themselves what the fuck we might be up against. They're too scared to send in their Marines or send more recon in of their own kind because they are shitting themselves it might go loud, or worse, to the public. As in, they lose a Battalion of hardened soldiers....they are going to lose whatever deniability they were working on up there. And they need it back, clearly. They aren't making a big...fuss about this, there's nothing on the news, nothing at all. It's dead quiet. Like we're going to go fight an invisible war. And for them, that's how they want this to be handled before it escalates." She said, her tone to the point, knowing what she had read in the file, the officer in her coming through strongly, stopping mid-way in the corridor, the two hulking titans occupying the tight space entirely, as she put her gloved hand on Victor's chest. The change from funny, half naked Russian giantess to hardened, Spetsnaz titan had been like a switch had flickered back to rest.

"Victor, I've never seen it go like this. Even sensitive operations for the Motherland are usually left to our own people. Whatever it is, I imagine we will be forced to not disclose what we see, or what we do, and that this ends quickly before they make their next move. The CIA and FSB will be watching and no doubt, will want whoever we blow into a billion bits identified and their networks exposed open. Perhaps they are playing all their cards at once, and we are about to go call their bluff. And that's on top of all of this shit we already do. We will have an enemy making their last stand, for whatever it is there, they might see worth in it to buy themselves time in whatever anarchy they plan. And that....cannot happen." She said, the last part of her phrasing harsh, almost to the point where even Victor's body must have had a little chill running along it, as she nodded, gauntleted hand still on his chest, before turning back, avoiding her ammunition pack swinging into him, leading the way out into the sun.

"I do not get uneasy so easily.....you know that. I imagine it may even give us answers on who these people are in this organisation, and end whatever they had. Clearly we stopped them, but we need more. And given what we saw these people can do, I am willing to tear them a new asshole." She said, her icy charm turning to a wry smirk, as she awkwardly took her gauntlet to chest, taking a pair of sunglasses. Whilst her hands were like claws in the suit, she managed to somewhat pull them loose from the armoured pocket and slide them onto her neckbrace's lip, where she opened it up with her mouth and pushed it gently onto her face. She had to say, for having several inches of armour along her arm and a couple at the hand, she was still impressed that she could find that dexetrity. There was even a pad in the fingers for using on her left arm's haptic pad, a smart move given it augmented her HUD too. Black wrapround sunglasses on, the Spetsnaz Major was ready, even knowing the fact that they were about to head to the antipode of the planet.

The sight of the runway was on the horizon, a number of Blue Sword operators stopping to see them both, as Natalie looked on to the two C17s parked up, ramps open, and Pandur II APCs loading inside.
"That's our ride. One on the left." She said to him, looking over, each step feeling like it was stamping a hole into the gravel, and Natalie had to admit, it had been far too long since she had been in this thing.
"We've got a long flight. Hey, we might still be able to cuddle, Brute. Even if it's more difficult." She giggled, sliding back her GAU to her side, walking onto the tarmac, and towards the aircraft, side by side with the only partner she'd ever choose to go into hell's kitchen with.

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

Andrew gave a soft clap, as Ross watched on, pretty amazed.
"Holy shit....." Ross commented, gently whistling at the sight of it, barely even able to see down the range that far.
"You are fucking bionic, or some shit." He added, Andrew chuckling, looking down at Nolan from his spotting perch on the sandbag.
"He is, no shooter I've worked with like him. Good stuff. Free beer works for me." Andrew chuckled, as he put his rangefinder back into it's case, looking at the Private that was running in, the sniper team and Ross still there.

"Captain, it's Merlin. He needs to talk, right now." He said, the Private a US Marine of sorts, maybe a runner, or one of the ones kept back in the reserve of the rotation. Either way, Ross didn't ask, as he took the paper the Private gave him, having a look. It was short and succinct.

"Fucking hell. Redeployment. Looks like our specialist skillset is going to the arse-end of fucking Greenland. Is this a fucking joke?" Ross asked, the Private looking on coldly, Ross being joined as Andrew peeked around the tall West Countryman's broad shoulder.
"It isn't.....damn. That isn't a designation me or Nolan have seen in years. Sensitive shit. Whatever it is, the spooks really did a number and they're calling 911." Andrew said, looking across to the other Canuck.
"We need to go talk to him. I'll get Carl. You guys go meet the boss and I'll meet you there." Ross said, Andrew nodding as the Captain headed over towards the Barracks, knowing he had to get Carl. There was little more beyond the fact that they were redeploying to Greenland, but the lingering thought of what Andrew had just said was in his mind. This was something peculiar, and whatever the fuck it was that was pulling them away from an active engagement site where they were as popular as kids selling lemonade on a hot day, was clearly something significant enough to cause him worry.
First proper RP post in months! It's not gonna be great- but enjoy!

So- I've laid it out quite open-plan here. Basically, play the situation how you feel like it- I've moved us onto Monaco as I thought it's a scene that was in my head in a while, and I want to basically see what George/Cassie/Drevan are like when in a situation where there's a lot of dialogue, and a lot of ways to play the situation. I almost don't want to interfere too much- as it should basically fuel itself here. Feel free to NPC characters- basically, run riot a little bit here.
Thom let the big man take the lead, George doing what he had to do, as he covered him and watched him pull it off. It wasn't dramatic, but it got the job done, as he swept around, keeping an eye open for anyone else that was with this man.
"Target is under, repeat, target is under. We have our man." Thom said, looking to George, nodding.

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

Kingmaker watched, Martin observing the scene unfolding, as he crossed his hands, watching on.
"Good protocol, Bugcatcher. It's en route then. I'll have the crew....well, understand what the situation is." He said, as he walked away from Bugcatcher, taking his phone out, and dialling a number, leaving the room for a moment, fully aware that he didn't need to. Bugcatcher would know precisely what he was up to as Martin went outside, but it happened so quickly, that nobody there would have understood it entirely.

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

The ambulance carreered to a halt outside, people running around, and anti-terrorist police rushing past into the cleaned out station, as Thom and George carried the man towards it. It felt strange to be in this environment, and he was almost glad that the MPX wasn't as easily seen, and the cops that had arrived had their orders. This felt strangely in sync, like someone above had pulled strings perfectly, like a violinist playing a tune pitch perfect. It was thanks to a man that managed to handle this clusterfuck of agents he had at his disposal, and it had worked.

The ambulance crew ran out with a wheeled stretcher, slowly picking the man up out of Thom and George's arms and putting him onto it, as they followed, moving quickly yet not running to the parked ambulance. He was slammed in faster than anyone could percieve, and inexplicably, George and Thom were in the back. The door shut, as the three-person crew were inside, and away with George, Thom and the purple-hoodied man.

"Well, that happened." Thom said, leaning back as he exhaled, looking at the man in the purple hoodie, checking him over for any cyanide or weapons, any cavity he could, the ambulance staff looking on quietly, ordered not to speak a word. Thom nodded, looking to George once more.
"I have a feeling we're going to have a busy evening."

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

"The Interlude"

Five Days Later

Martin Thatcher was a man that had a lot of shit on his plate. The explosion at the tower had not been coincidental. Whatever it was in Pakistan that Sierra had unearthed, a raft of people were scrambling to hide their interests, Martin had concluded. The purple hoodied man was now in a container, that was classified as being a part of the property of Jordan, at an unknown RAF base in the countryside. He didn't know that of course, because in Jordan, torture laws were more lenient. Inteligence work was gritty at times, but Martin got his way of doing things and well, that was the best place. For now, it wasn't his ability to get answers- those would come in time from those who knew what he was doing. Instead of that, he had to explain how a major clusterfuck had happened on Sierra's watch. How a near-terrorist incident nearly hit the London Underground. That was frightening stuff. And now, his responsibility to go over.

Sitting in the office, the other MI6 intelligence director looked across with a steely glare, shaking his head. A faceless bureaucrat, no man of action but someone who ran a desk and not much more. But someone who was chasing this tail up, to clear the facts. And of course, authorise Sierra's remit.

"So, your conclusion, Martin?" He asked, as he sipped a little water, barely flinching in his chair as he did so.

"The data breach was something someone was closing down. They destroyed the server alright, turns out the plug got pulled not soon after that explosion. The signal went dead....we got what we wanted, but someone wanted to limit their damage. And someone knows that we were there."

"Limit their damage? What do you mean?" The grey man asked, as Martin sat up.

"There is someone working in collusion. Financiers, investors in groups such as our Taliban friends. I think it's connected. They want to make sure that they don't get exposed on whatever transactions were on that server. A secure one, may I add. One that was unconnected to the internet, and used through encrypted channels. One that cost my hacker an awful lot of time." Martin explained, as he poured himself a different drink, a small glass of whiskey, no less. He needed it after this bullshit.

"Interesting. That still leaves the loose end of who this shadow client is. The one that wanted to...cover their tracks. The one that did this, the person who needs their damage limited. We need more than a speculation of financiers."

"The man we captured was Iranian. Potentially, government investment from them. Or, just a former operator. He still hasn't given in, so we won't find out until he coughs up. It's possible that the Islamic Republic have a beef to pick with us." Martin cautiously spoke, the other man noticing it fully.

"And yet you don't sound convinced, Martin."

"I'm not. Because I think I know where we might find answers. There was one name that rang out in there in particular. There was nothing else that we found particularly interesting, just plenty of shell accounts and proxies, and none of it is substantial at all. But the biggest name on that server was Hans Rosenquist, CEO of Nectar Pharmaceutials. A Swedish CEO on that list doesn't make sense. Even with all of the noise removed, his name stuck out, as the main name on that server. A man with no political investments, but he had links to financial funding for Islamic terrorist groups, if that server says so."

"And what do you think then? Where does that put Sierra in chasing this down?" The director asked, a half-rhetorical question but addressed simply and plainly, rather than to undermine him.

"I suggest we have a chat with him. And probably dig up more data, because Bugcatcher just loves harvesting through people's personal lives. Of course, he's too busy. But his daughter seems to be rather prominent on social media. Careless, given her father is quieter than a mouse. And yet she is as shouty as they come. And, this girl, she's going to Monaco, it seems...on daddy's yacht."

"I see. And you think that could work?" The director asked, Martin chuckling, shaking his head.

"Not for certain. But we haven't got any other leads. No sane father would leave a multi-million pound boat in the hands of a 23-year old in a harbour like that. Not one at the top of a major drugs company. Victoria Rosenquist, pretty young thing....it would be rather convenient if one of our agents were to get close. A man I might know would be good at it."

"Good heavens. You aren't serious?"

"What, has old school spy work never worked? I need a man who can do whisky, casino tables, and young girls to protect the United Kingdom. Oh, and our resident American to keep him from going off the rails."

"I was going to say. Don't let your man get too attached to her." The director added, as Martin nodded, calmly sipping down a bit more whiskey, and loading up the post on his tablet, the one that had caught his eye. Victoria Rosenquist. A young woman in a skimpy bikini and a view of Monaco behind her, on what was certainly a ridiculously expensive boat. She was wearing sunglasses and from the looks of it, was exceptionally pretty. As Swedish a stereotype as ABBA was. The sort of girl that daddy bankrolled, and right now, had probably just given up her father's wherabouts.

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

The Monégasque Gambit

Three Weeks Later

Monte-Carlo, Monaco


--

The plan was simple.

And so long as Sierra didn't totally fuck this, it would remain as such. Kingmaker had briefed the team beforehand, and whilst it felt strange to be going to this sort of work, he had to guess that from an extended debrief, and the fact that it was a disappointing haul from the tower server in London simply that hadn't made up for the effort they had made, this was going to be something to find a better understanding.

George had been put in as a civilian, flying from London to Nice, then getting a helicopter to Monaco's Heliport as a VIP, under his psudonym, and no doubt, was going to be rather chuffed to bits about that very idea of that happening. All in the while, Martin had Cassie on the ground after leaving Nice Airport, also in civilian attire, and as a seperate guest to the Casino de Monte-Carlo. The. Thom was with Drevan and Martin in the van, who unlike his usual self, wasn't sitting in a room in London, but in the thick of it.

It felt very, very James Bond this. This was about finding Victoria Rosenquist, in the Casino, and letting George....do his thing. However he pleased. He was such a gentleman that he probably was going to try and use his exquisite charm on her, as Martin had seen him do before. But, any other option was open. She needed to fess up to where daddy was, and the moment that happened, Martin was aware that they'd have their man to chase. A warrant or an arrest would just be too suspicious, and give him too much time to clean house. So this was the only way they had, and Martin fucking hoped that there would be results from this. Only difference? The support team involved, and the fact that it wasn't just one gentleman spy doing his thing. It was a team of highly trained intelligence operators that weren't meant to be there, at all.

Something about it felt connected to Martin, wondering about it still. MI6's AI programmes had run it through a Fraud database, deciphering links in documents and data and it came up to him, mysteriously. Nonsensically, of course, because how on earth did an Iranian operator, a Al-Qaeda and Taliban data farm and a Swedish CEO connect. It had something in there, and he was going to find out, one way or another.

Looking at his watch, he checked the time. It was time to report in with the two.

9:30pm,
Casino Square
Monte-Carlo Casino, Monaco

"Cavalier, Liberty, report in. We have eyes on you by the entrance of the Casino. CCTV is limited inside, due to the nature of the estabishment- I'll let Bugcatcher see what he can do but you'll be mostly on your own in there. Remember the op. Find our girl, given she last checked in here about 15 minutes ago, and find out what you can on where her father is. Remember, you're unarmed and we don't want to pick a fight here. Cavalier, you should probably be the first to make a move, Liberty, I suggest you watch for security around our girl." He spoke into his headset, checking the silenced Browning Hi-Power in his suit jacket, looking to Drevan's mobile setup inside the van.

"Go time, Hackerman." Martin said, nodding, Thom looking out through the back seat.
"Why the fuck aren't I in there, boss?"
"Because....well.....you're gonna need to fucking floor it when Cavalier gets slapped by our target and runs out followed by half a dozen bouncers." Martin said, deadpan serious, before cracking a smirk.
"Ah. Right." Thom replied, shrugging as he just took the section chief's advice, looking through the window across the square, still amazed he'd found somewhere so close to park.

The two operators going in had comms hidden on them, and Bugcatcher would be able to watch their every move too, if the hidden cameras they had were placed correctly.
ooooh, that's pretty good.....flows nicely.

I have a post saying "To Post" on my desktop, and it's still not finished. Basically, my drive for RP has of late, for the first time in eight years, decided to completely and almost utterly dry up.

What was something incredibly interesting to me has suddenly gone really to shit, and I can't tell why. That said, I'm gonna try and write a post before I disappear again for another week- I think it's still there but I just haven't actively joined many RPs in a while and it's kinda killed my creativity a little. I have got some ambitions for this RP though- there's definitely plenty we are still in for a treat of!
In order to make their aerial insertion work, Mark and Ellie had figured it out quick, using a simple map of the area. Ellie would use her wingsuit, while he'd drop in, straight down. It worked out better than the earlier plan- after all, she could cover far more distance silently, and the less the plane was overhead, the less chance they had of being detected. It was a surprise after all that they were even coming. And Mark had a score to settle. Kill every bastard he found, and recover whatever it was they stole for himself. That was his job. The rig on his back, goggles on his forehead, and altimeter on his wrist with the R700 at his side partly-disassembled, he felt prepared. Ready, even.

Ellie was confident, calm, collected, that much Mark could tell, as the door opened and the wind rushed in, the sight of darkness outside only illuminated by the moonlight peering through a clear sky, as he looked to her.
"Remember the plan, I've got you on comms!" He yelled, as the engine slowed down, Mark moving to the back of the door, and looking out. He nodded, as Ellie set herself up, and taking a breather, fell out of the plane into the abyss.

Mark's leap out first meant he was watching Ellie fly away from the aircraft in a far more dramatic fashion and into the black oblivion, as he whooped. This was....fun. Chaotic, strange, but it was fun as hell, and he could only guess that Ellie was far more comfortable right now than he was, as this felt strange and insane to him, an operational need, not a day-to-day.

Deploying in pitch black wasn't too different to the operations he'd been on before, but it made navigation difficult, given how far away the house was, a small light in the distance. He looked on, taking the toggles of his grey parachute, and steering himself down, finding the outline of the rocks below, and steering himself in gently. No need to break bones, he reminded himself, this had to be careful.

Landing quite a far way away from the site, he set himself down in the rocky hillside overlooking the mansion, knowing Ellie was going to be close in, up close and personal with the outer perimeter given the fact that she could fly for miles with her suit. Seeing her parachute above, he knew she was going to be on her target, or at least, as close as she could get. She was accurate, a professional after all, and he was impressed. Mark ditched his own rig and left it, aware of it's expense but the fact was that he needed to save weight and get moving. That was priority now. Setting up the rifle, getting into position, and being ready for what came next.

"Okay, I've got you in visual. You're a hell of a lot closer to the site than me." He said into the radio, as he scarpered down the rockface, the moonlight illuminating her chute, knowing it wasn't without noise, but was near enough silent compared to the crashing waves of the rocky coastline.

Finding a position, Mark set up the R700, optic and all, looking towards the mansion nestled on the cliffs. A silencer sat on the end of the barrel; if he did have to use this thing, he wasn't waking up the locals with it.
"I've got a main guard post at the front, looks well staffed, lots of security. Not many guards around, looks like it's mostly lights out, but there's a few on the roof." He simply said, as he looked over the area a little more, exhaling and taking a breath to ponder what else there was through his scope.
"I've got the rifle ready now, so if you need a shot, let me know. Don't use your pistol unless you absolutely have to, Ellie, let's keep this neat. Can you get a closer look at any security systems, or buildings up close?" Mark asked, aware he couldn't see a lot from his position, apart from outlines and structures, rather than what Ellie may have been able to from her position.

------

Meanwhile, Ross was following her, and it felt strange, strange indeed to not be leading and following suit. Then again, Athena was a rather confident woman and would be used to leading teams of men in an armed response unit, so it made sense. Stealing an SUV though, that was something new to see. Breaking the law, breaking the law....Ross liked this side of her increasingly, something about a holiday on the other side of the border brought something out of her, perhaps.

The Jeep roared into life, Ross sitting in the passenger seat, bags in the back, as he pulled out one of the M4s, eyeing it up.
"Fuck me." Ross said, shaking his head, the road bumpy as he kept it unloaded, albeit scooping out a couple of mags as he looked to Athena.
"It should be in and out stuff. I think Mark has most of it covered. He hasn't let me down before. Guy's a criminal mastermind." Ross said, aware that small chat like this with an operator working for the police was always going to go one way, and it was better he did it than her, in some strange sense.

The roads got worse and worse, as they drove on, Ross watching the GPS and seeing the fact that each trail was getting smaller and smaller, shittier and shittier.
The aircraft landed with a bump on the tarmac, the Cessna skidding to a halt quickly and turning off the runway, taxiing over.
"Alright. There's benches in the back, no comfy seats for us." Mark said, stating the obvious, as he watched the plane pootle along the tar, and slowly turn to the crew that were waiting by the Range Rover. The plane stopped, but the engine kept running.

The pilot opened the door but stayed in, Zane a man that Mark could trust, a pilot that had been refered to him through one of his contacts in this world. He had no intention of asking what he did with that Cessna Caravan, given he was able to fly between Mexico and the US, but something gave him a feeling it wasn't always legal. An old diplomatic bag sat on the passenger seat, marked "DIPLOMATIC BAG OF BELGIUM, DO NOT TOUCH" in very clear and scary font. He was about 5"8, with long flowing brown hair and tanned skin, with a distinct grin on his face and a pair of aviation headphones on his ears. He gave a thumbs up, indicating they were going straightaway, and they weren't shutting the engine down. Mark nodded, running to the left rear of the aircraft, keeping behind the prop and opening the shutter door, as he piled his bags that he was carrying in. Helping out Ellie, Ross and Athena, they loaded their gear inside,

Clambering into the plane, Mark gave Ellie and Ross a hand, pulling the latter in and shutting the door.
"Okay!" He yelled, as the plane ripped, the brakes off and the propeller now pulling them forwards. Shutting the door, Mark moved past the benches and their luggage, moving up to the front of the aircraft.

"What's the rush?" Mark had to speak up, almost yelling to hear himself talk over the engine's increasing roar.
"We haven't got long in the airspace clear for our run- we're gonna get going now, while we can boss!" Zane replied, as Mark nodded, looking back at the other two, taking a seat on a bench. His accent was strange, it almost sounded Australian from what Mark could tell- he remembered talking to him years ago, but hadn't seen him in years, much like Ross.

"Well, looks like we're going quickly!" Mark called out to the others, as Zane quickly took the Caravan onto the tarmac, and with clearance, hit full throttle again. The engine was clearly not the Caravan's standard, it had a lot more poke to it, and brought the small cargo plane off the ground quickly, albeit far more noisy than any regular aircraft.

Clambering to altitude, Mark had the chance to at least clamber into the front, taking a seat by Zane's diplomatic bag and grab a spare headset. It was possible to talk without it, but for extended periods of time, maybe not.
"Thanks for coming by." Mark said, as Zane nodded, turning on the flight path for south-west, their route to the Baja with only one brief stop.

"No issues. I was taking her south of the border anyway, you're on my way down." Zane replied, looking back for a moment at Ellie, Ross and Athena in the back.
"Who's that lot?"
"Couple of friends of mine. It's just dealing with a bunch of crooked bastards for an old associate. Nothing too big." Mark said, Zane confused as he looked over.
"And you're going to all this effort? Then again, you're partly covering my bill."
"Yeah, don't ask. You alright to hold us at altitude over the west of the town, when we're running in? Me and one of the girls back there are going to drop in. We've got a compound identified that we want to hit and need a...well, unorthodox approach."
"Can do. Just make sure you get the fuck out and your friends shut the door once you're out. This isn't a jump plane. We'll be six hours till we get there." Zane was striaght to the point, as the clouds were close, as they sat at a cruising altitude of 9,000 feet. This was a way to travel, given they didn't have to stay on roads, and Mark knew that what was to come was going to be insanity. Clambering out of the seat, he put the headset down, Ross looking to the other Scots blood that wasn't Ellie.

"This thing is fucking loud!" Ross yelled, as Mark chuckled, looking to Ellie.
"Look at her, she doesn't even seem to give a shit. Totally normal to jump out of one of these, right?" Ross asked Ellie, still a little bemused at the idea that she even did that insane thing she did, knowing Ellie would be used to this sort of aircraft, given it's common application as a airdrop plane.

"It's called not being a pussy, Ross. Try it sometime." Mark cooly replied, chuckling, knowing Ellie might join in.
"We're going guns fucking blazing into a compound full of angry Latino hitmen and gangsters, and you're calling me a pussy?" Ross was a little on edge, no doubt from the crazy shit that had happened in the past few hours, but it was also something else.

"Ross....chill the fuck out. Unless...you're not scared of little planes?" Mark replied, as the gears turned in his own head, chuckling as Ross's face turned to complete mush.
"....no, I'm not......okay, yeah, I'm a bit scared of planes." Ross replied, as Mark laughed, shaking his head.
"Shit....well, you need to shut the door after we go. Athena might have to." Mark said, looking across to the other woman in the crew, knowing maybe she would be a bit frightened of this, but probably had more balls than Ross did, he jokingly thought to himself.
And Ross was on the pedal, the Range Rover's V8 roaring into life as they left the bar, the pursuit of vehicles behind them clear to Ross, as he knew he had to drive, and drive like mad. He didn't take the roads they came here on, but opted for even shittier gravel and sand-banked roads, putting every brake horsepower of throttle down to drive, and evade the cars behind. He could hear Athena smash the rear window, and begin spraying, taking shots as he focused only on what was ahead. It was like escaping the cops, only the stakes were higher.

The rough roads were hard and horrid, bumping like hell but Ross was taking it in, hugging each corner as best as he could, the Range actually four-wheel drifting on the loose sand, the noise of rounds flying past reminding him to keep on the throttle.

Mark stuck his upper body out of the car window, putting his M4A1 outside, as he joined Athena in shooting at the people after them, popping off bursts of rounds. He took out the passenger from the one that had replaced the previous chase car, the glass shattering as he swore, the bumps making it hard to shoot. Ross was on it, and putting distance between them, but Mark was aware that they had to get away, and fast- he had to end this here.

Taking a breath, Mark sent a single 5.56 into the driver side, slamming into the man's chest, as the car skidded and tipped over, Mark holding on from his position as Ross turned the corner hard. Mark tightly held onto the side of the pillar as he watched the car behind crash, chuckling as he took the mag out, sliding a new one in, looking back at Athena. They'd ran out of cars it looked like, for now at least.
"Nice shooting. Kept us out of trouble." Mark said to her, as he leaned back into his headrest, looking at Ross.
"Drive us somewhere off the tracks. We have information to extract. Go further away than you think you need to."

--

Putting the pistol up against Luis's temple, Mark looked in, the middle of nowhere as good a place as any for this, given they had left the road.
"I know you speak English." Mark said, coldly, calmly, utterly remorseless, as he sighed.
"So, I want you to talk to me. Tell me, where is the rest of your gang. And how many." Mark started slow, Luis on the floor, tied at legs and arms, left to the baking sun for a little while before Mark had started the process.

"Shit.....I can't, or I'm dead!" He screamed sheepishly, knowing it was very true, but Mark wasn't taking that for an answer.
"Way I see it, only way I go from here is torturing you. And some of the body bits you might lose during that, might not come back. My friend here knows my reputation." Mark said, tutting, as Ross watched on, Mark looking at Luis, chuckling.

"They call me the Surgeon. Because what I do, is I can do things to your limbs that no other medical professional will do. What I do, is I start first with the nails. Rip a few out. If that doesn't work, I work my way up. Take a toe, take a finger. Then a hand, or a foot. Then a forearm. Do you know how long it takes for you to bleed out?" Mark said, shaking his head, sitting down by the man, legs buried in the sand, chuckling.

"Not long enough, because it'll be tourniqueted, and I'll work on the other parts of you that you don't need to live. I'm thinking you're a really juicy specimen." Mark said, shaking his head, taking Luis's heavily tattooed arm.
"My friend here has seen what my work can do. It's really pretty. And that sleeve of yours must have cost you mucho dollares. Lemme see. I might start with that one first." Mark said, as he shoved the sharp shank into his arm, Luis roaring with pain, drawing it out, as he then yanked his arm tight, the pain searing through Luis's body, smirking.
"Let's see. You clearly don't fucking clean your fingernails. Let's fix that." Taking the toolbox closer, Mark pulled out the pliers, and did his thing.

What happened next nobody wanted to watch, because Mark was unrelenting, it was pure torture, and nothing more, nothing less. Luis was not co-operative, and he was changing his mind, fast. Mark knew that when he broke, it would be everything. A professional would leak slowly, but Luis was prime material for this style. He was perfect.

It took a bit of fear, and only three fingernails to be completely ripped out with pliers to get it working. Luis was sobbing, as Mark looked on into his eyes, burning from tequila and rage.
"Now. I'm going to repeat my question. Where, are, your, friends?"

Luis cried, and if he hadn't shat himself already, he was now.
"It's in Baja, Baja! There's a mansion in the Sud, I swear!"
"Go on. I want GPS co-ordinates. Now, I'm going to free your other hand. I'm going to give you my phone. I want you to type in the GPS co-ordinates. I know you know them. Do that, and I'm going to let you live, and get you far away from here." Mark added, pulling his hand free from the zip-tie, holding his other arm behind his back, the bloody stain pouring down his shirt.

Luis did as he was told, slowly typing numbers in, doing as he was told, a good little boy. The numbers were coming up with a site, and there was a building there. It was the place alright, as Mark nodded, snatching the phone out of his hands.

"How many?"
"All of the gang, I swear. I'm the only other one!"
"Sure? I want to try your other hand."
"I swear! There aren't any more. They have lots of guns, lots of security. Maybe 20, 30. They're going to leave soon!" He said, as Mark nodded.

"Good. You saved us a lot of trouble." Mark said, as Luis looked up, his legs still tight, as he tried to get his legs, Mark kicking him hard in the ribs.

"I'll save you yours." Mark coldly said, drawing the P226 and cleanly shooting him between the eyes, straight through the nose with a gentle piss of blood trickling out as he kicked him over.
"We got what we came for. Cartels, or his crew would have made him a goner. We don't leave loose ends. Not when they seem to be willing to kill a pregnant woman and her husband." Mark said, Ross looking on in horror, as he knew the rest would.

"Seriously, after you said that to him?" Ross exclaimed, looking on in horror, a little taken aback by what Mark had just done, especially after all that had just occurred, the promise he'd just snapped on.

"I won't repeat myself. I told you what this would be. We need to go, now." Mark didn't stutter. He had a point, but knew at that moment, he wasn't going to be anyone's favourite person, least Athena's, given he just summarily executed a man.
"I'm going to come up with a plan. It isn't going to be easy, lads, but we might need to hurry up."

----

Two Hours Later

Aeropuerto de Nogales, Mexico

Luis's dead body had been left in the desert, buried beneath a tarpaulin off the road, in the midst of nowhere. If someone found him, they'd think it was another Cartel hit, not what was going on. It was as dead as he was right now, and while not a moral decision, it was for the better. They wouldn't have been able to extract him, nor guarantee his safety. It was better they killed him there, then let him live to be shot in the back of the head in America.

It seemed that the place he had described was fortified, a mansion west of Cabo San Lucas, a town at the southermost tip of Baja California, looking out to the Pacific. A modern one, with all the trimmings, for some rich millionaire's vacation home, given a helicopter and numerous cars were parked there, at least in the old satellite photo on Google Maps. It was perched atop a cliff, and a seriously difficult place to hit, given the fortified walls all around it. It was not going to be easy. Remote, desolate, there were rocky mountains with sweet fuck all, and only a crappy dirt track following the coastal cliffs to it, with dry riverbed valleys inland of it. There was going to be a serious security presence, but Mark didn't know exactly what. If he knew where it was, they were going to be able to rip through it, but not unless they knew what they were up against.

In all, Mark knew that it wouldn't work, not unless they did something better. But then it occurred to him, on the car drive down, and at the airport. There was one girl that knew something a bit more extraordinary, and she happened to be with them. After all, they had no idea what they were in for, but Mark took a guess that Ellie, if she wasn't good with a gun, could do something a little more than any of them. They needed someone to do some recon, and getting in was nigh-on impossible from any other angle. Apart from one.

Above.

Mark knew she didn't need to do much, but what she was good at, would be infiltration. She was skinny, and no doubt a good athlete, so she would go in good stead to get it done. They needed to fly out to there anyway, and the timings of this had to be like clockwork, or they wouldn't get it. Mark hadn't told the team the plan, but knew that no doubt, he was going to get a lot more weird looks.

"Zane said he'd be here any minute. Flying a Cessna 208 he told me, should have the fuel to carry on to Cabo San Luis. They're going to take their time at customs, but luckily, that man over there was very partial to the idea of us carrying weapons. Turns out he really wanted a Range Rover. See, it has it's use." Mark said, as he stood up, opening the boot of the open Range Rover, and sliding a few cases out of it, two containing rifles, one containing his own kit, and the other containing Ellie's stuff, as per instruction from the last time they'd set out for here.

"Looks like this Mansion, whatever it is, is our last destination for our tour. The entirety of the gang, and any affiliates are there. I might have an idea for how we deal with it." Mark said, as Ross pitched his head over.

"Ramraid and kill everyone we find? Or have you got a better plan? You heard what he said. It's not going to be easy." Ross replied, Mark nodding.

"I think we have an advantage. They don't know we're coming. Or they won't, given we have a plane at our disposal, and some kit I called for coming in." Mark added, Ross looking to the Royal Marine, a bit bemused.

"What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking Ellie and me drop in from the plane. She happens to be the only one who knows how to use a chute apart from me on this team. We sneak in, and we find out what their weaknesses are, and what supplies they're packing. That's all while you and Athena fly into the airport in town over the course of the evening. You'll need to rent, or just find some off-road motorbikes or rough transport, and get into the hills...it isn't far but there's tracks going that way and we'll all meet near the mansion, on a GPS co-ordinate in the valleys. When night comes, we take them from the angle nobody would really give two thoughts about, and take them down knowing where they're weak. We eliminate anyone we come across, take down their files on anyone they were tracking, find transport, and get the fuck back to the plane, and out of country, before any Federales show up and ask why there's lots of dead people." Mark was meticulous, but it sounded completely insane, to whatever observer was listening.

Ross was speechless for just a moment, looking to him.
"Are you...you know, fucking mad?"
"Only a little. But the alternative is a ram-raid, and I don't like the idea of that. 30-40 people is a suicide mission, but with the right planning, we can make it work, but only if we're using speed and aggression, from an angle they won't expect, with a thought process they don't think of." Mark said, as it sunk into the rest of the team, Ross shaking his head.

"You are off your head. And how exactly do you expect you can infiltrate a highly guarded secure compound, without making a single mark?"
"Leave that to me. Ellie's proven herself capable, and we will make that side of it work. Anyway, I don't see you having a better plan. I give it 24 hours before they leave and scatter, then we're fucked, and we won't ever be able to solve your problem. As it stands, we're lucky to have this opportunity."

The noise of the Cessna flying in from the distance could be audibly heard, as Mark sat up from the chair, throwing the Range's keys to the Customs Agent, taking all the bags he could carry and smirking.
"Come on then. We have a job to do. If you have anything to add to the plan, we'll clear it in the plane. I promise you won't have to do much Ellie, but I need your eyes and ears for this one."
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