Okay, I'm up to the challenge, but hopefully you'll come in sometimes when writing COL2 gets tedious, I have dislocated two fingers, and so I cant write much and very fast, hence for the next few days, I'm dedicated to the Bar.
Posted 02 April 2016 - 02:59 AM Edited by countingfingers, 02 April 2016 - 02:59 AM.
Posted 02 April 2016 - 03:43 AM
Ready whenever you are guys. There isn't much to do in the hospital.
Posted 03 April 2016 - 09:29 PM Edited by countingfingers, 04 April 2016 - 04:16 AM.
Posted 04 April 2016 - 01:05 AM
"Whatever," she mumbled, "But if we're caught because he ran his mouth, it's your name on a gravestone."
"Don't worry," Rudra said, "I'm sure he received the memo. He won't talk."
"You sure?" Questioned Elizabeth, "It'd be safest to just cut his tongue off or kill him." Rudra stared blankly at the man on the ground and shook his head. His expression didn't express sympathy, mercy or anything that would cause him to spare the burglar.
"You're so feisty, and I love it," the wounded swindler continued rambling, " You're-"
"Shut up already!" Elizabeth yelled, "Adults are talking, so shut up and be a good boy!"
Well, I'm back. Was busy doing things, so I was pretty distant from everything.
Posted 04 April 2016 - 08:14 AM
Rudra was irritated.
The thief was not just idiotic, but suicidally so.
He had a steaming wound in his shoulder a .45 still aimed at his head, a murderous psychopath willing to tear his balls out with her bare hands and feed his face to rats, yet he kept up the chatter.
Maybe he was making a mistake...maybe, he should let Elizabeth take this obtuse kid out on a date.
He decided to relent, to let psycholops have her way with this idiot, and he was just going to say it out loud when Santa Claus came up behind them.
You're on cue Mokrie!
Posted 04 April 2016 - 11:08 AM Edited by SRB, 04 April 2016 - 11:08 AM.
" I would of shaved if I knew I'd be picking up chicks today.. " Tyrell continues to say, despite being hurt. "Just shut up, just shut up, you can still live if you just SHUT UP." his mind would tell him. The pirate lady looked over to Indian man shaking her head, as if she couldn't believe I wouldn't stop talking. Tyrell shuts his eyes, ever so slowly pushing himself to his feet.
" I had a really good time today, think I can get your number for a second date?" Tyrell says aloud.
"You're just asking to get yourself killed.. ASKING for it. " his mind would tell him again, brushing it off. He smiles towards the two, shaking his head as he turns and begins to stagger away slowly. He walks slow, taking full deep breaths, making it just out of eye sight of the bar. He looks around at the community, of which he then notices some people looking at him, and one lady on her cell phone. He makes it two more blocks before a police car rolls up behind him, lights off. The officer calmly steps out of his cruiser, and approaches Tyrell. He quick shoulder radio's in for an ambulance to his location, then begins speaking.
"Sir, are you okay, we have emergency services on the way" he says.
"Some concerned citizens called us when they saw you, they wanted to get you help." "Take a load off, relax until the ambulance arrives" the cop said, seemingly concerned.
Tyrell was in no shape to run, and the officer surely wasn't going to let him just leave looking like he did.
Location: Out of sight of the bar, a few blocks to the north.
Posted 04 April 2016 - 11:30 AM Edited by AEsob, 04 April 2016 - 11:34 AM.
I knew I should have killed Tyrell.
AAND I'm not sure that we are going to call the cops on the bar. Which means major sh*t for everyone. We need MD's opinion, and since only the four of us (me, counting and MD and SRB) are writing, we need to have a vote.
I vote that SRB edits this post.
Posted 04 April 2016 - 09:18 PM
I'll try to write my bit soon
Posted 04 April 2016 - 09:49 PM
Posted 04 April 2016 - 11:31 PM
Don't worry, I know better then to write up peoples characters getting arrested, or killed. If I was to happen to do anything to anybodys characters I'd let you decide your own fate,
- Mokrie Dela likes this
Posted 05 April 2016 - 12:56 AM
Okay then. No probs.
Let's see where the cops are going.
Posted 08 April 2016 - 08:34 AM
Posted 09 April 2016 - 11:07 AM
She stomps out her cigarette butt on the pavement with her high heel before turning around and pushing the front door of the bar open. What a lively place. She notices a few men at the bar, but doesn't hold her attention for too long. All she wants is a little bit of silence, and booze. Heading to the basement, she is approached by a staff member.
"Honey, I'm going to have to see some I.D... are you 21?" the man asks.
"Well..?" he raises a brow.
"I'm 24," she slaps her drivers licence into his hand, "Now can I go get a drink?
He furrows his eyebrows, shooting her a nasty look, "Right.. yeah.. go ahead.."
It's not long before she enters the basement. Old retro lights flash, as a smoke machine occasionally farts out its odd smelling fumes. There's a stage, but no performer. A few sit at the bar. A couple, and some kid on his lonesome. She walks over, and sits down on the stool beside him, "I'll have a coke and bourbon."
"So what brings you here?" asks the younger looking male.
"An increasing level of stress.. yourself?" she watches the bartender mix her beverage, before softly sliding it to her. She passes him the cash, and smiles softly.
"That got dark.." he chuckles.
"I am dark.." acting serious for a moment, before breaking her character, "Nah, I'm just f*cking with you. I just finished my shift, so, I thought I'd head to the nearest bar.."
He smiles, feeling his heart flutter. Caught.. almost becoming sucked into something about her, "Oh, right. What do you do for work?" he asks.
For a moment Suzane feels nervous.. and lies, "I'm a check-out chick.."
He raises his glass, "Well cheers to the check out chicks.."
Current Location: Basement.
Posted 09 April 2016 - 02:44 PM
He said nothing, instead crooking his finger for them to follow him. He led them back to the bar, that run-down hub of hell. He let them walk in front - a habit more than lack of trust. He admired the girl's posture and backside, but he'd begun to accept that she would not be his final meal, so to speak. He wanted it to be someone real, not someone paid, and definitely not forced.
He sat down, a bottle of whiskey in one hand, three glasses in the other. He slammed them on the table.
Rudra feared no man. This unnamed asshole had underestimated him, assumed he was a low level goon, but he could see it in the man's eyes; he respected him. But Rudra was no fool. He knew that this man and his mysterious associates could kill him or make his life a living hell. Their skill and experience dwarfed his own, but they were over the hill. But they were friends now, and Rudra had little reason to change that. The fact that the man was covered in blood only added to his brutal aura.
As for Elizabeth, she had something no one else had. Or rather, she didn't have. She didn't fear death; she simply didn't care. Perhaps the old, grumpy man shared her feelings, or perhaps he'd accepted it as an inevitability. There was a dark vibe around him, as though he was Death himself. A pale horse. Everywhere he went, hell followed.
She didn't want to die, of course. But Death held no power over her. She looked at the grizzled man, feeling a touch of pity. He was sick, perhaps actually dying. Such a fate waited for most of them, she supposed. But she still didn't know if he had actually done what she thought. She'd actually felt inside, but obviously there was no clues. Perhaps he hadn't. Perhaps his actions were truly noble.
For a moment - a brief moment - she believed that. She actually considered giving him what he wanted, but the thought quickly repulsed her. She wouldn't be able to keep the bile down. Did she hate the man? No, but she wouldn't mourn his death.
"We're ready to move," he growled, that horrible cough lurking in the depths of his voice. "But you need to come prepared. This is going to be the biggest thing you've ever done. Police will be the least of your worries. FBI, Interpol, foreign intelligence services... They'll all be looking for you. Play it right and they won't know who you are. But one slip up. One tiny fault, and we'll be locked up deep underground in a place that makes Guantanamo Bay look like the Ritz. We have our roles to play, so make sure you stick to them. Usually I'd use seasoned veterans; only they have the experience and skills to do it perfectly. But the problem with veterans is that most of them...." He paused, a cough creeping up his throat. He heaved and roared, his head lurching for the handkerchief clasped in his hand.
When the attack passed, his face red, he simply pointed at it. "Pretty much that."
Rudra and Elizabeth nodded.
"Here's the plan. We're hitting this place - you are not being told what. I have a few men, hired or... persuaded, but our roles are going to be clear. Queen Elizibeth..."
Elizabeth smiled at the compliment, ignoring the sarcasm.
"I've bought you more clothes. Now listen. Your role is to distract a select few people. I have researched them, and if you think I'm bad, you wait 'till you see them. They can't be bribed or leaned on, but they can't resist the pussy. You'll be dressed like an Egyptian beauty queen. It's going to be cold, and yes, you're going to smuggle peanuts. But you're to attract their attention. Get them out, start playing with yourself, shove your pussy in their face, I don't care, but use your woman-hood to keep their eyes where they need to be. You'll then move through the back way to meet us."
Elizabeth nodded, trying to figure out if that was crucial to the plan or just s sick, perverted ploy.
"Red Dick, you'll be with Tom. Suppressed weapons, moving through a maintenance tunnel. Lots of guards but low level ones. Shouldn't be too hard. I'll be taking the long way round. We'll meet with some of my men in the middle of the facility. All being well, there should be no alarms sounded. If there is, it'll be too late to run. Plan B, which I'll tell you later."
"What are we stealing?" Elizabeth asked.
The man shook his head. "You will never know. Only I have the contact to sell it at a good price. And I'm being literal and honest. This isn't a bunch of jewellery to be sold to street dealers. This is specialised stuff, and only one person has access to the funds, a use of it and the ability to use it. To you, to me, it's worthless. But you will be paid, and I mean seriously paid."
"Alright," Rudra said.
"Tom will do the final action to acquire it. At this point, alarms will sound. Miss sugar tits will be offered more protective clothing at this point. You'll have the fight of your life ahead of you."
"US special forces. A black group that doesn't exist. But their soldiers are all from Delta, SEALs, Marines... The best of the best of the best of the best, guarding something secretly."
"No way will we walk through all that."
The man smiled. "The location is defended and we will use those defences to our advantage. We have to hold them off for my second team to do their thing - and that's make a getaway. A decoy. We will slip out the back, through a secret tunnel. Men will be down there, of course, but it's a communications black spot and we'll have set up jamming equipment to be safe."
"Where's it come out?"
The man smiled. "Inside a military base."
Rudra recoiled "How the f*ck are we meant to"
"Relax, naan bread. Most of the soldiers will be attending to the alarm. We will dress in disguises - which I already have - and simply walk through the gates. Or rather, drive, as though we're responding."
"Jesus," Elizabeth said.
"What's plan B?"
"I'll tell you that when i have something from my contact. Talking of which, where is Tom?"
The man, Rudra, Elizabeth location: the bar main room. Tom: Unknown
Posted 09 April 2016 - 04:06 PM
Rudra considered the plan in silence.
A brief plan, borderline insane. The plan B was not going to be mentioned, so he guessed it was even more suicidal.
Not that he cared, though.
He felt that it the plan being a clean infiltration mission, there were too little details to work off of.
This man was impatient, brutal and as it may be, sometimes got carried off with his swiftness and his brutality. He had probably tortured someone to death...he could smell the guts. Not many people knew that human intestines had a distinct smell, but he did. he was sure that Santa did, too.
The major problem of the plan was the man's reliance on suppressed weapons and subsonic ammo. if the 'low-level' goons he was going to shoot up with Tom wore body armour, they were f*cked. If someone in close range heard the shots and called it in, they were f*cked.
A crossbow with cyanide bolts was probably the best option for the infiltration. A crossbow would be easy to procure...but cyanide was the issue.
Maybe Hemlock would have to do.
Plus the team didn't have sniper support. That was the problem. The 50 BMG rifle would go to waste. He was an assassin, he shot people from over a few hundred metres with telescopic sights or sneaked through security and stabbed them in the neck. He never liked prolonged firefights.
He had a couple of flashbangs, a hundred and fifty five loaded STANAG magazines and six ten round 45 ACP magazines. That was it.
A major problem, however was unaccounted for.
"So, this place we're hitting, show us the map, will you?"
Posted 09 April 2016 - 07:01 PM Edited by SRB, 09 April 2016 - 07:03 PM.
Tyrell could hear the sounds of the ambulance a block or two away. The officer approached him ever so slowly, trying to make his movements closer too subtle to notice. Tyrell found that he didn't have many options. The ambulance arrived, with two paramedics moving to the back doors of the vehicle. Out came the stretcher and they brought it straight to him.
"Sir we're here to assist you, it seems that you've had an accident of some kind, let us help you." one paramedic says. The police officer moves to the other side of him, leaving him even more circled. Tyrell decided against his natural instincts to run, and plopped down on the stretcher. He ws belted in, and moved into the ambulance. He stared out of the back door, in disbelief that he managed to get so close to death, and got off. He thought about the Indian man and the girl. The girl he thought of most, crazy for sure but for some reason, he desired her. He assumed that she never had real intentions on killing him, and she spared him for a reason. The picture of the road soon faded behind him, and he found himself jolting awake in a hospital.
He was confused when he awoke, he thought he'd only been asleep for under an hour. It had been a full day. Any and all of his open wounds, had been stitched. His knee had a brace on it. How did they know? He attempts to stand up, getting into a seated position before lifting off onto his legs. An alarm soon sounds, and a nurse comes into the room.
"You can't leave yet buddy, please have a seat." She says to him. "You haven't been discharged yet, we need to make sure you won't hurt yourself by walking." Another nurse comes into the room, and they sit Tyrell down once more. He attempts to relax himself with some hospital TV, before noticing a police officer outside of his room talking to some staff from the hospital.
Posted 10 April 2016 - 02:28 AM Edited by countingfingers, 14 April 2016 - 02:09 AM.
"This crap's ridiculous. Is it really necessary I play a doll?" Elizabeth interrupted.
"Yes, we'll need you to keep 'em company. They're far more important than the usual cannon fodder, so doing anything but luring them out could jeopardize the entire operation," Santa said, "I'm not saying you'll have to sleep with them, just get them away for a while. What? Are you ashamed of showing that lovely shape you were gifted with?" Santa directed a smirk towards Elizabeth. She didn't acknowledge the gesture in the slightest, instead taking a sip of whiskey. She shook her head in denial, but she was lying to them and herself. The ordeal in the bar's upstairs room was humiliating enough, and now she's be tasked with doing it consensually.
"I'm not ashamed," she argued, "I don't want some pathetic role like that being what I'm used for. I thought you'd realize I'd be best suited elsewhere."
"Don't worry," Santa assured, "You'll get your shot in the field. Good things come to those who wait. We'll discuss this some other time, maybe over some hot coffee. But for the time being, let's continue." Elizabeth grunted, crossing her arms as she leaned back onto her chair. She waved her arm to gesture Santa to continue his briefing.
"All right," Santa said, "You wanted to see the layout of this place." Trench Coat pulled a tablet from his coat. Before turning it on, he scanned the perimeter, checking to see if any onlookers may be sticking their nose in what isn't their business. After a few careful glances around the bar, he placed the tablet before Rudra and Elizabeth.
"Take a look," Santa said quietly. The tablet opened to a lock screen, in which Santa entered a long, long series of numbers. It unlocked to an image with a layout of a facility, its rooms, and some words written in white explaining the locations of guards and their routes.
"So this is the place?" Rudra muttered.
"Yes. Now let me explain where you'll all be going," Santa said.
Posted 07 May 2016 - 04:16 PM
The Unknown Assailant had grown impatient for the people at the table to make a move.
He was on the roof visible from the window beside which they sat.
The cold wind hit him like heavy, stinging needles. The exposed flesh had almost gone numb.
The man in the black trenchcoat was explaining something to the other man in the oxblood jacket and the woman.
His rifle was ready. It was an AS-50. Semiautomatic .50 BMG sniper rifle.
He crouched, put his binoculars down and put the rifle on the balcony. balanced by the bipod, any recoil wouldn't throw him off target.
He adjusted for the winter air and took aim at the man in the blood-splattered, black trenchcoat.
His finger was on the trigger.
So, I was busy writing, and I deccided to come back into this, because why not?
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