| From: | Gian-Paolo Musumeci <musumeci@***.LIS.UIUC.EDU> |
|---|---|
| Subject: | SK Run (DA, Clown, Irish) |
| Date: | Sat, 23 Apr 1994 10:41:45 -0500 |
your
share of the profits into your account: same with you, Irish.
***** Begin AudioVisual Upload
A group of seven people sits around a circular oak table in a brightly lit
room: five humans and two elves. The elves are both lightly cybered and
wearing heavy armor jackets, while three of the humans are heavily cybered and
armored. One of them is carefully reassembling an Ares Predator heavy
pistol. Another human is dressed as a clown, and the last is clad in black,
his silver-grey hair neatly trimmed. Spread on the table are detailed
blueprints and a three-dimensional model of a corporate building and the
surrounding areas.
DarkAngel: "A word of introductions. I'm Dark Angel, that's Clown (points to
the one dressed as a clown). The humans are Michelis, Stephen, and Alexander,
and the elves go as Patrick and Alexandra. We need to get into the building,
intercept the target here (he points to a room on the blueprints) and get out
again. How we do it, well, I run a fluid team. We need a general plan, but
you are free to do as you wish: just don't get yourselves killed or endanger
the rest of the mission."
Alexander: "I think we ought to just go in and tear up as much as we can. They
can't do all that much damage to us, they've got two squads to cover a whole
building."
Patrick: "Not quite buisnesslike. Can we intercept him at some other point?"
DarkAngel: "Not really. He generally has a rather extensive bodyguard."
***10.1 Mp's Deleted by Operator -- Discussion***
Alexandra: "What we might want to consider doing is going in individually,
as maintainance crews or somesuch, then terminate the target and try to slip
out quietly."
Stephen: "Not a bad idea."
Michelis: "Here's my idea. Let's split into two squads. One will hit the
roof -- I can get us there without too much trouble, I think -- and the other
squad will do individual infiltrations, like Alexandra suggested. Then we
launch a coordinated strike and lift out of the roof."
DarkAngel: "Sounds good to me. I'll go in and fake a registered helicopter
landing on the roof, then we go in. Sound good to all involved?"
All agree.
DarkAngel: "We'll meet at 2200 hours back here. See you then."
***Fade to Black***
The nightline of Seattle sparkles bright in the cool night air, polluting the
dome of the stars with the tawdry lights of the city. A light cloud cover has
settled over the sky, and a slow, cold, drizzling rain has begun to fall.
The strike team is once again sitting around the table, each member wearing a
small radio headset and clad in what ranges from armor vests to half-suits of
hardened milspec. Dark Angel himself wears a long black trenchcoat and a
weatherbeaten fedora.
DarkAngel: "Alpha Squad will be Michelis, Patrick, Clown, and myself. Beta
Squad will be Alexandra, Steven, and Alexander: Anyone have any objections?"
No objections are raised.
DarkAngel: "In that case, keep in radio contact with all team members. The
links are encrypted, so we shouldn't have much to worry about. Remember, if
you have any brilliant ideas, don't hesitate to use them -- but think about
what they're going to do first."
The squads stand up and depart.
***Fade to Black***
The low hum of helicopter rotors sounds through the city as the Wasp, piloted
by one of Michelis' friends, settles down on top of the building. A slightly
obese, graying security guard watches the helicopter with disinterest. The
'chopper lands, the rain making for a slightly shaky landing.
DarkAngel: "Beta Team, we are down. Here we go."
Alexandra: "All set."
Steven: "No problems here."
Alexander: "I'm ready."
Dark Angel gets out of the helicopter, then walks over towards the security
guard. He stands up tiredly and puts his hand out.
SecGrd01: "Your pass, please?"
Dark Angel smiles and hands him a small slip of paper. He peers at it in the
rain, holding it up close to his face. Dark Angel swiftly and silently pulls
a small pistol and shoots it into his stomach. The guard groans softly and
falls over, and Dark Angel feels for a pulse, then gestures towards the
helicopter. They all run towards the down staircase that leads into the
complex.
Michelis: "You killed him?"
DarkAngel: "No, put him out for a few hours. He'll wake up with a terrific
headache."
They hit the staircase, sprinting down the steps. Michelis spins around a
landing, and a heavily armoured guard opens fire with a Predator, barely
missing him. He returns fire and the rounds glance harmlessly off the armor.
Michelis: "We've got some opposition here: heavily armoured guard."
Steven: "Same here: looks like two guards, medium armor."
SecGrd02: "Station 32A1 reporting: Intr --"
The commlink is drowned out with the electric whirr of a Vindicator as Patrick
opens fire. The security guard falls in a spray of scarlet, staining the
floor the color of a rich wine.
Patrick: "Come on!" (gesturing downwards)
The group sprints down the stairs, finally reaching the desired floor. Michelis
blasts the door open with a well-placed shot. They run in a loose formation,
in a half-crouch, down the corridor.
DarkAngel: "We're heading down the primary corridor into the target area. How
is it on your end?"
Alexandra: "We're moving down our corridor. Oh dre --" *sound of weapons fire*
Steven: "We've got a guard with a LMG on us. Taking another corridor, there
is one here to the left..."
Patrick: "Anyone hit?"
Alexandra: "I'm fine."
The squad turns a corner and looks into another corridor that ends with a large
steel door.
DarkAngel: "We're in position. Get there as soon as possible, please. I don't
want the entire security force of this place here..."
Alexandra: "Hold on...just a few more meters...got it, squad in position."
Patrick raises his Vindicator and reduces the door to a twisted scrap metal as
the rest of the squad scurries into a large room, lined with desks and computer
equipment. There are three doors into the room, two on one side and one on the
other. A large concussion resounds as the other squad enters the room through
the shattered remains of the adjacent door. A rather stout man with greasy
black hair stands in the middle of the room, along with six heavily cybered and
armoured guards and a handful of corporate secretaries. The secretaries and
man turn to run for the other door as the guards start to open fire: two with
heavy pistols, one with an assault rifle, and three with SMGs. The room is
filled with bits of flying lead as Patrick opens fire with his Vindicator, and
Alexandra and Steven open up with assault rifles. Alexander fires a round from
a grenade launcher, neatly tearing one of the guards in half.
DarkAngel: "STOP!"
He pulls a glistening black rifle from beneath his trenchcoat, and a red dot
springs into life on the back of the stout man's neck as he sprints toward the
door. Dark Angel carefully lets all the breath out of his lungs and squeezes
off a single shot, which tears the man's neck in half and shatters his spine.
He then turns and engages in a furious firefight with a guard, eventually taking
cover behind a desk. A man runs crouched towards him.
Irish: "Sorry, I'm a bit late."
DarkAngel: "No drek, chummer."
They return fire over the desk and take out one of the other guards, and then
rapidly help the rest of the team clean up the others.
DarkAngel: "Patrick, how many rounds do you have left in your Vind?"
Patrick: "Enough, why?"
DarkAngel: "Michelis, Alexandra -- you guys go and get the helicopter in front
of the building. The rest of us are going to cause damage. Any objections?"
None are raised. Michelis and Alexandra take off towards the roof.
DarkAngel nods to Patrick, who opens up with his Vindicator and indiscrimitely
sprays the room down with minigun fire, tearing through delicate computer
equipment with no effort whatsoever. Dark Angel places a grenade in every desk,
working rapidly, and then the squad heads down the corridors towards the front
lobby, shattering every cubicle with a quick burst from an SMG or assault
rifle. At one point, Dark Angel stops and pulls a bulky soft plastic
container from within his trenchcoat and shoves it into a corner. Steven
raises an eyebrow:
DarkAngel: "Three kilos of C12. A birthday gift from a friend...let's go."
***End AudioVisual Upload***
Well, chummers, that's it. We all managed to get out okay, although Patrick
took a round into his forearm in a duel with a guard. Clown patched him up
okay: he was sticking around back in the chopper.
See you in the shadows!]<<<<<
-- Dark Angel <10:42:13/04-23-55>
