To Catch a Mockingbird, Operation Dissonant Cadance Options

[Mister Juan]

[Byrne]

As the door slid open with a light ping, Vincent waved with his hand as if he was discarding something.

“Thank you very much Colonel, but there's no need for that.� said Vincent in a rather sad tone.

It wasn't a secret for anyone at Con Ops that Vincent's family life wasn't fairing too well. It happened way too often that the couch in his office was covered with a blanket and pillow for people not to know.

“I'll do my best to find out what is going on... Our friends from DIA are probably expert in counter-intel, so don't hold your breath.�

Stepping out of the elevator, the Special Agent turned around and held the door open with his hand.

“I'll use what little time we have to swift with you through all our current intel concerning the current state of the underworld. It won't be easy to prep everyone on all the movers and shakers... it would simply take too long... We'll need to summarize everything...� he finished with a sigh.

One week. That was all they'd get. One week wasn't nearly close enough for everyone to prep and study for their respective “roles�. If anyone questioned them intensively about the local criminal elements, they'd come up short.

“I'll try to use the rest of the time to draw up respective profiles, and study all the case files.�

With that he released the door.

“See you later Colonel.�

[Cthulhudreams]

[Mosby] Lift Shaft @ 1350

Mosby catches the door before Vince can get out of sight.

"Vincent, try not to get to caught up in the underworld figures side of the equation. You'll be around to dispense advice and coaching on the job - and hell, we don't even know if our identities are from around here. I suspect they won't be. Gotta hit HQ and get that dossier ASAP.

What we need is the information on the mark. Thats the big priority. Need to know what he wants done so we can do some positioning as prime candidates in his market segment. So you need to tell me what he's buying so I can structure our sell side offering. I'll be with you after I've been to HQ and the armory."

With that Mosby hits the button for the lobby and beats feet for the mess, a shower, shave, and then back to HQ.

[Mosby] Team Ready Room.

Mosby slips into the room shortly after Nick, clad in his worn fatigues adorned only with his rank insignia and ranger tab, polished brown leather combat boots and holding his tan beret in his hand. When he catches site of Nick he flashes him a grin and rattles off in quick fire sucession "Bloody good to have you back on board. How was your junket across the pond? You've got a copy of the briefing and the Q&A session afterwards right?"

Mosby hooks a chair with one foot and slides it over to the table next to Nick, rifling through the pizza boxes for anything that looks both edible and hot.

[Ol' Scratch]

[Rozhenko]

Reaching up with his mind, Nick grabs the three windows he had open and slide them out of view as Mosby speaks up. Nodding a bit a the breeder asks his questions, the ork replies. "Yeah, got the briefing but not the session. Thought that's why we were here. If was just a bunch of Q&A, you can just sum up the shit I need to know." And, with that, he takes a rather large bite out of his pizza. You could almost hear his heart clogging as he did so.

[Cthulhudreams]

[Mosby]

Mosby grins manically back at the Ork, then starts to tick the points off on his fingers, waving a slice of pizza around erratically to lend emphasis to his remarks.

"Well, three key points are that..

A - the agency has been infiltrated by a mole, so for the two year deployment time we are out in the cold unless we call for extraction. If we call for extraction, it is all over. Only a tightly controlled list of people know we are out there.

B - They are holding Sinclair's family hostage while paying him a whole bunch of money, which is what I call an incentive.

C - Geller's view is we eliminate the target ASAP, the commander's view that we should at least ask some questions first. I want to see how the situation develops before I draw any conclusions on that front. I suspect we might just have to let the dice fly high on that one.

As you know we are shipping out in 7 days, and need to screw together gear packages to sustain us for two years earning our dishonest living. Ash is the armorer, you're the motor pool and drone support, the mages are prepping spirits, and I'm doing sensors and prepping some intel under Byrne's supervision. So spend some time with logistics when you get the chance."

Mosby pauses just long enough to wolf down a bite of pizza.

"After Q&A then the team worked through some issues to do with the lethal force authorization and the usage thereof. Two viewpoints, first that force will count for extra credit with the target, and second that lethal force is just killing a bunch of CAS citizens for no good reason. You can probably guess where we all sit on that one, but I really want to get to grips with the mission and profiles of target side of this operation before I get stuck into that mire."

Mosby takes another bite of the pizza.

[Fortune]

[Ashley]

Although almost totally absorbed in a miasma of ammunition payloads and weapon calibrations, Ash can't help but overhear the conversation between Nick and John. Even after over two years together, the elf is still often surprised at how Mosby is capable of laying out a problem in a manner stripped of bias, despite his personal feelings on the subject. He nods slightly, more to himself than anything, slightly reassured that if nothing else, John was capable of seeing things from all sides.

[Ol' Scratch]

[Rozhenko]

Nick simply grunts as he nods in understanding. "A week should be plenty of time to get this preliminary list I've put together in order. Got any word on our IDs yet?"

[Cthulhudreams]

[Mosby]

Mosby gulps down a mouthful of pizza, "Nah, not yet, Commander said she'd give us the heads up as soon as they were through, and there has been not a peep from that quarter.

The other thing on your 'to do' list beyond getting to grips with logistics and your new identity is memorizing as much of the Intel as you can, because we're not going to be able to carry any of that into the field beyond whatever capability we've got between our ears."

Mosby leans over the table and swipes a one of the beers, cracking it open with a mutter of 'yeah, yeah, duty, duty.' and taking a long swill.

[TheOneRonin]

1752 Hours, Bravo Team Ready Room

Your commlinks beep with an incoming message. It seems your mission identities are are complete and ready for review.

[TheOneRonin]

0417 hours, Wednesday, June 10th, 2071

The soft beeping of your personal commlink rouses you from a deep sleep. You had finally settled down for some rest after a furious night of preparations, planning and study with the rest of your team.

Bleary-eyed, you check the display screen.

Incoming Text Message-
SENDER: Aunt Connie
MESSAGE: Grab your kids and pack your bags, we're going to VEGAS!

[Ol' Scratch]

[Rozhenko]
Time/Date: 1753 Hours, June 9th 2071

Bringing up the recent text message featuring his new identity, Nick blanches. "Oh joy, I get to be the registered sex offender again. I swear, if I ever find out who makes these..."

[Mister Juan]

[Byrne]
0417 hours, Wednesday, June 10th, 2071

A faint buzzing in the back of Vincent's head pulled him out of his light sleep. As gently as he could, he simply slid to the side, his bare feet dropping to the soft carpet of his bedroom. Sighing internally, he massaged the back of his neck as he held his head low, reading the message behind his closed eyelids.

Apparently, things were moving much faster than expected.

Behind him, he heard the rustling of the covers. Helen was awake, he could feel her stare on his turned back.

“I have to go.� he simply said, pushing himself off the mattress.

A few years ago, Helen would have gotten worked up over him leaving in the middle of the night. She would have asked where he was going, or when he was coming back. She would have cared. Now, it was a different story. Vincent's wife simply didn't care for the man who pretended to be her husband.

“Try not to wake the kids up� she told him in a half groggy voice, turning around and going back to sleep.

Vincent dressed himself up, not bothering to turn the lights on, headed downstairs, took the keys to his car and was off into the night.

It wasn't quite clear what the message was about, but he knew the place quite well. If for some reason they were pushing off ahead and moving out tonight... then the kids would have to do without him for some time.

[Galedeep]

0417 hours, Wednesday, June 10th, 2071

"Damn you, Bergelmir!" Ivan spat, his arms crooked and his hands splayed as he tried to control the energies surrounding the troublesome Storm Giant he was attempting to summon from Thrudheim. The giant, bent down with his arms splayed wide, cackled, spitting electricity and gusts of wind before bursting into a gale force, leaving Ivan in a blast of painful wind as his CommLink went off, distracting him and making him lose control of the spirit.

Wiping a bit of spit from his mouth, Ivan quickly checked over the message. It certainly seemed odd that they would be meeting so soon, unless the commander wished to add certain instructions away from the prying eyes of Geller, but there were easier ways to do that. It would just have to wait and see. Hopefully, they wouldn't be heading off already; he only had Sangrith bound at the moment, and he had hoped to add to his cadre of spirits before embarking on the mission. It would be easier to do in familiar, safe environs than without.

Grunting in irritation, he decided to summon one of Bargelmirs cousins, the less troublesome, but equally irksome Aslimir, another Storm Giant Ivan had dealt with before.

"Might un maine en Midgard, skomm Aslimir sigla stadhr commentha!" Feeling the pulsing energies build in his arms, sending jolts of energy down to his hands, he curled his fingers, shaping the portal that the being would step through. In a few moments, the giant lumbered through the invisible opening, accompanied by a gust of frigid air. Its long, blueish black hair hung down over his hideous face, and his misshapen limbs were almost comically distorted, his huge head hung down between his gangly legs, his arms cocked back as far as they would go to fit in the small room.

"What do you require of me, mortal?" Aslimirs whispy voice drifted to Ivans ear. The elf smiled, pleased that this giant was more subservient than his difficult to manage cousin.

"You are to accompany me to my vehicle, and use the wind to speed my journey to a different location. During this trip, you are to watch the spirit world, and alert me of any traffic within a few miles. You have standing orders to protect me should I be in danger, either physically or astrally. Do you understand your instructions, drole?"

The giant shifted his head once to indicate an understanding, then drifted from sight. Ivan gathered his things, and went downstairs to his bike, making sure his gun was in its holster before setting his helmet on his head, and starting up his motorcycle.

"Let the winds accept you in your travels," came the ghostlike voice of the giant, and as Ivan eased his vehicle out into the streets, he could feel the very air around him open up. It made a path for him, and pushed him along behind; it wasn't quite the same as speeding up, it was merely covering more distance for the speed. It was a difficult concept to grasp, but one that many magicians made use of.

(OOC: Summoned a Force 7 Air spirit, using his movement power to speed my travel. Out of six services, four have been used; to use his movement power, to watch on the astral and alert me of any activity within two miles, and protect me should I come to harm, and to watch on the physical and protect me. )

[Ol' Scratch]

[Rozhenko]
Time/Date: 0420 hours; June 10th, 2071

It took Nick a good 60 seconds of fumbling around with his hand to realize that the sound he was hearing was neither a telephone nor an alarm clock, but instead his augmented reality answering machine alerting him to a priority message. It took him another 60 seconds to wake up enough to remember how to make it stop whining at him so he could get back to sleep. Modern technology. Bah!

Relinquishing to its electronic will, Nick rolls onto his back and sighs deeply. "Join special ops and you, too, can never get a good night's sleep again!" But no, they never tell you that during the recruitment drive, do they? Double bah!

It took Nick another good 60 seconds before he finally decided to roll out of bed and get ready. By the time he got out of the shower and shaved, he was starting to get on the clock. Once he shoved the SoyPopTart in his mouth and was locking his door, the adrenalin had finally kicked in, his engine was revving, and he was raring to go. God bless the miracles of SoyPopTarts — the cornerstone of any successful black ops mission!

[Cthulhudreams]

[Mosby] Time/Date: 0417 hours; June 10th, 2071

John is in the midst of a bad dream when the commlink starts to beep aggressively. He leaps to his feet, grabbing for his gas mask and filling his lungs to shout, then pausing to stare bleary eyed across the room at the wall of his unfamiliar Colonel's quarters on base, his fingers having closed on the trashcan next to his bed, rather than the gas mask canister he was expecting.

After a brief moment of contemplation on exactly how much he hates been woken up unexpectedly at o'dark thirty, John picks up the casually discarded commlink next to the bed, sliding it into his datajack and checking the mail.

"You've got to be... pull the other one, its got bells on. What the hell do these clowns think this is. This operation already felt underdone."

Mosby hastily showers, shaves, pulls on one of his few pairs of civvie street clothes, then grabs his go bag from under his bed and jogs over to the base motor pool in 5 minutes flat, signing out a car from the electronic attendant and making for Vegas - stopping at an all night drive through on the way to grab something hot and greasy, and a dim memory makes him search for a particular song, before streaming it to the car's stereo

"It's my baby callin', says I need you here, It's half past four and I'm shifting gear"

[Fortune]

[Ashley]

The horrendous crash of the toolbox impacting against the wall echoed throughout the armory, accompanied by the musical clatter of metal tools scattering across the concrete floor, and punctuated by an impressively colorful string of curses.

The black-haired elf once again reads the short text message, clenches his jaw shut, and just barely resists the urge to hurl the offending commlink straight after the mangled toolbox.

Ashley's face is streaked with gun oil and sweat, his black tank top soaked through and clinging tightly to his torso. The muggy night was still quite warm despite the hour, and promised to give rise to yet another uncharacteristically hot June day. The work bench in front of him is littered with Glocks, a few fully assembled, but most still in various stages of completion.

Muttering under his breath, Ashley gives his hands and face a cursory once over with an already greasy rag, then after grabbing the prepared pistols and rummaging around the bench for a box of ammunition, he heads toward the armory door and the Hummer parked just outside.

[ZenZen]

[O'Kerrigan]
Time/Date: 0417 hours, June 10th, 2071 (Wednesday)

The obnoxious beep of the commlink is met with utter disregard.

A mere 4 hours had passed since Sam stopped reviewing everyones' new identities with their respective owners, memorizing facts, inventing and synchronizing all the little pieces of trivia and 'shared memories' that made a new ID come alive, enabling it to hold up both to rigourus scrutinity and casual smalltalk.
Now she was soundly asleep and a mere alarm clock had no chance at changing that fact while she was in the safe embrace of her own bed, the well-known signals arriving in her ear being filtered out way before reaching her dreaming self.

But her comm was prepared.

After 3 minutes without any significant reaction to the priority message it initiated its Urgency Protocol and contacted the apartments' other subsystems, kicking them into action.
As the high-powered luminous wallpaper filled the room with a bright approximation to 'the first sunlight of the day shining through windows', Samantha finally reacted, blinking into the illusory sunrise, her tiredness betraying the idea of morning.
Sitting up, she reaches over to the commlink, her eyes displaying the coded order as soon as her skinlink initiated contact, muting the alarm at the same time.

"Aunt Connie, eh?", yawning extensively while checking the time twice, just to make sure it really was as night as her body indicated, she continued to mutter, a smirk on her face: "As usual, the perfect time for a happy family vacation with our steely aunt. Couldn't have waited until we actually had some sleep, now, could ya?"

Finding her way into the kitchen, Sam takes a big gulp from the readied double-caffeine SoyKaf (all part of the UP), providing her with the acuity and quickness needed to hurry through her morning routine and pack her essentials before leaving for the motor pool.

Munching a BreakFAST™ while speeding down the sparsely populated highway towards their personal 'Vegas', the VirtualWeather trying hard to keep up the illusion of daybreak, Samantha muses:
Can't ged rid of the feeling that prep time is over before it actually started...and I still wanted to bind a couple of astral assistants with Ivan - apart from actually going on a long-time, deep undercover mission prepared for a change.
Chances are, this is just the beginning of a series of unpleasant surprises.

"Ah well, it could be worse Samantha", she tells herself, "you could have a boring job..."

[Fortune]

[Ashley]

Activating the vehicle's internal pilot, Ashley turns his attention to the stack of pistols and empty clips piled up beside him on the passenger seat. Cracking open the box of 9mm ammunition, he falls into the long-mechanical task of loading the clips, the familiar routine serving to ease his fiery mood as he makes his way toward 'Vegas'.

[TheOneRonin]

0500 hours, Wednesday, June 10th, 2071

The rusted and dilapidated hulks of old factories and manufacturing structures litter the landscape as you drive through Roswell. The Grand Marquis Casino on the northern-most side of town is is a sorry state of disrepair...only an inkling of it's former glory visible under the years of dirt, grime, and soot caking its exterior. In reality, what you see is a clever facade for a Consular Operations deployment center. This building is used to consolidate and deploy ConsOps assets as stealthily and quietly as possible. And this morning, it's going to serve its purpose once again.

As you and your teammates pull your vehicles into the parking garage, you notice a handful of aged and weathered vehicles along with a few "u-haul type" moving trailers parked near the Casino entrance. Those must be your mission transportation.

Once you make your way inside, you spot Cmdr. Haney sitting at an old blackjack table, several steaming cups of StarYen soykaf crowded into a carrier before her. The sour expression on her face shows that she is about as happy as you are to be here. She motions to the soykaf, and to the barstools clustered around the blackjack table.

[Fortune]

[Ashley]

After pulling in to the Casino parking lot, the elf spares a moment to stuff all but one of the now-ready pistols into a small canvas bag hauled from the rear of the Hummer. Ashley jams the remaining Glock into the waistband of his fatigues at the small of his back before pulling on a matching urban camo blouse, leaving it hanging loose and unbuttoned.

Khaki bag in hand, Ash grits his teeth as he briefly surveys the assembled vehicles, before breathing a deep sigh and heading for the meeting.

[Ol' Scratch]

[Rozhenko]

Nick yawns as he pulls in just behind Ashley. Normally he'd be upset for not being the first on the scene, but at this hour he couldn't give a rat's ass. Before the door slams shut after he exits, his Porsche Winter is pulling itself back out and heading to his garage back home. "See you in a couple years, baby," he wistfully sighs to himself, patting the old girl just before she drives off.

After watching her go, a slight jog brings him up next to the old gun nut. No words were said. An ork just felt better when he was in the company of friends and family.

[Galedeep]

[Ivan Beckett]

Thanks to his spirit improved rate of travel, Ivan has been sitting at the table for several minutes, sipping a hot cup of coffee. There are several more sitting around, extras that he'd picked up, forgetting that the Commander would most likely have them there.

He looks a bit out of it, and he is; his spirit is flashing around in Astral space, watching for intruders, but Ivan is doing the same. No harm in being cautious. His face goes momentarily slack when he extends his astral form a bit farther away, but he always darts back, sitting up with a jolt as his consciousness returns to his body.

[Cthulhudreams]

[Mosby]

Mosby turns down the stereo with a mental order as the car glides towards the casino, wary as an unidentified set of headlights pulls out of the casino and heads towards him, but he soon recognizes the driverless Porche. As he pulls up next to the big humvee he orders the car to remain parked for 30 minutes before driving back to the motorpool, then posts an AR sign asking the motorpool attendant to take his bag and stuff it in his locker in the gym, as he pulls it out.

John then reaches out electronically for the others as he walks in, reassured as his comm link establishes as tactical network with familiar commcodes. John grins broadly as he surveys the 'cheerful' faces of his compatriots, tossing his jacket across the back of his chair, which reveals a faded grey Tennessee Titans shirt and some equally tired cargo pants.

Looks like the usual 5am bundle of joy. Guess you have to laugh or cry

Mosby says to the commander "I'm hoping this isn't the jump off, but your expression doesn't reassure me at all Commander." as he grabs a cup of coffee and a stool.

[ZenZen]

[O'Kerrigan]
Time/Date: way too early, June 10th, 2071 (Wednesday)

Driving past the barren ruins of Roswell's industry, The Grand Marquis Casino barely in sight, Samantha notices a familiar figure zipping around.
Seems like Ivan had an escort today... Let's see, this pattern..must be ..yes of course, Aslimir!
A smile spreading on her face, she waves at the storm giant, unveiling her dual nature:
"Hi there, big fella! How are things over in Thrudheim?"
As Ivan appears shortly afterwards, she blows him an astral kiss, her masking hiding any signs of tiredness and worry about the unexpexted emergency meeting in her aura, instead making it read the usual cheerful serenity that her physical body shows.

Upon entering the casino compound, Sam takes over control from the AutoNav and speeds her open convertible into the garage, hitting the brakes late for a more or less controlled drift into the parking space, sliding a bit too far, coming to a screeching halt mere inches from Mosby's car.
A barely noticeable "Chi.." leaving the corner of her mouth, she jumps out, the hardtop reconstructing itself on her mental command and the chameleon paint taking on a simple black colour.
Making her way to the stairs, Samantha takes notice of their 'new' cars, another undeniably clear sign of their mission starting right now, way too early:
Ugh, those better be properly tricked out on the inside despite their looks, else Nick will be seriously pissed...

Once inside, Sam finds 'Aunt Connie' and most of her crew assembled around a blackjack table, their expressions showing a wide palette of emotions ranging from sour to icy, tinted with a hue of tiredness.
She beams: "Good morning guys," with something between a cheerful nod and a salute to Haney: "Commander."
"Had I known about the raving party in here I would've brought some snacks."

Her playful smile still in stark contrast to the serious expressions around her, she turns to Rozhenko while grabbing one of the SoyKafs:
"Jeez, Nick, did you see our new rides? Will we ever get undercover identities with style?"

[Fortune]

[Ashley]

Ash runs his hand though his black hair.

"Shee-it! Ah ain't even had a chance t' give mah ID more than a quick once ovah yet."

[TheOneRonin]

Cmdr. Haney drains the last bit of soykaf in her cup and stands up from the blackjack table, pacing as speaks.

"As you've probably guessed, we are getting an early start on this op. Yesterday afternoon, Phillip Bourgeois contacted Sinclair and requested is assistance with gathering a team for a job. The only details Sinclair was able to give us are that the job is an extraction, the mark is or will be in Baton Rouge, and the job has to go down Thursday evening. Bourgeois wants to meet the team and pitch the mission himself, which is why we have to get your shit together and have you down in Louisiana tonight. Flying you is too risky, and a team with your gear would probably be traveling by road anyway. Bourgeois is looking to meet you at 6PM in a commercial parking lot of the 7500 block of Jefferson Highway in central Baton Rouge. It's about an 8 hour drive from here, and you'll change time zones once you get out of Atlanta. I figured this would give you a few hours to go over your gear and make any last minute preparations you may need before getting on the road."

"I did the best I could with the preliminary gear lists you all put together, and it's all loaded up in the trailers and vehicles parked outside. It's not all you've asked for, but it's pretty close."

"Look, I know what you all are thinking...this mission is fucked...7 days prep time cut down to barely 12 hours. But this is an opportunity we just cannot pass up. HQ figured it would take 3-6 months of working for Sinclair before you could get tapped to work for Bourgeois. This puts us ahead of the game. That means we get to bring you guys home that much sooner."

Cmdr. Haney looks away from you for just a moment, the brings her gaze back to the rest of the team.

"Before I go, are there any last minute questions I can field? This is the last official contact you all are gonna have with me for a while. Best make the most of it."