To Catch a Mockingbird, Operation Dissonant Cadance Options

[Galedeep]

[Ivan Beckett/Dean Keaton]

"Well...shit." Ivan stretches his arms, stands up and downs his coffee in one go. Popping his neck, he shrugged.

"We've all been in worse situations. Hell, this is a bonus; shouldn't screw with the mission too bad. I wish I'd gotten to bring in some reinforcements, but the one little lady I've got, and whoever I can call up on the spur of the moment, should do us fine until I get a little downtime. You have any friends with you, Sam?" he asked, not bothering to try and sense the links in the other magicians aura.

"Besides," he added with a grin on his face, "I love this part. It's like Christmas, but more dangerous...well, depending on whether Uncle Pete got you anything." Still occasionally blinking and checking the astral skies, Ivan walks back and forth.

"Oh, and we can probably cut that travel time down, if you fellas want to just study up here, in the comfort of an abandoned building. I can get us there pretty quick; Aslimir can speed us up pretty good."

"Ya'll keep on talking, I'm going to check out the gear we got to play with," he drawled, his southern accent taking on an Alabama twang. As he walks out to the vehicles, he thinks about the new complications that are going to come up with the lack of preparation time.

Hell, I hardly know the basics of my ident yet...shouldn't have spent the morning wrestling with Bergelmir instead of sleeping. Oh well...I can sleep in the van. Now...ooh, what have we here? Opening up the trailer on one of the vans, Ivan grins widely. It has racks of armaments, racks of clothing in various styles...even a few shelves of customized commlinks. No doubt the heavier stuff is in one of the other transport units. Stepping up into the trailer, he begins digging through the clothing, whistling happily to himself, looking for a new outfit to wear in his new persona.

[Fortune]

[Ashley]

The elf stares in amazement as Ivan goes on about how this is a good thing, but that is nothing compared to the look that crosses his face when the mage actually walks out right in the middle of the Commander's last official briefing without even a 'by your leave'.

[Cthulhudreams]

[Mosby]

John leans foward, arms on the table during the commanders briefing, committing the details in a sketchy shorthand to his comm link and memory, then nods through Ivan's overoptimism. When Ivan slips off his stool and walks off, John stares at Ivan's back as he walks off in first in slack jawed disbelief, his gaze coming to focus in a laser like glare.

"Beckett!" he bawls in his best parade ground window rattler "Get your stupid ass back over here right this second soldier!"

He then turns back to the commander as though that never happened, saying in an entirely more reasonable tone "All our intel on these guys is back at base - we went over some of it last night, but is there any chance of getting a copy of some of the less sensitive dossiers off you right smart, or do we just run this as an adhocracy from here on out?

I also don't want to turn up at the meet with a motorcade. Maybe a van and two bikes... is one of the teams hidey holes on the way, or should I just improve and find some parking?

Oh and before we start cleaning ourselves off -we all have new clothes in the transport.. right?"

After asking his questions, he reaches down to his bag and pulls out a roll of garbage bags, ripping one off for each team member and slipping it too them - sending everyone a text message via the commlinks.

"You guys know the drill - everything you've got on now, even your underroos, comes up off and goes in the bag. I don't care where you got it or if you burnt out the RFID tags. Take it off, and stick it in the bag. Change of clothes in the transports."

He then sends a second message to Ash "Hey, Ashley, mind if we throw all this gear in your hummer? I the rush I forgot to arrange for transport - I'll fall back to the commander if having my socks in your car for 12 months just isn't cool!"

[Galedeep]

[Ivan Beckett/Dean Keaton]

"Yessir!" Ivan snaps a sharp salute and heads back to his seat. Thinking for a second about how that had just looked, he almost smacked himself; talk about presumptuous. Still, he does love fiddling with the new gear.

"Sorry, Commander," he added as he took a seat, grabbing one of the bags from Mosby as he does so. Pulling off his jewelry, he counts his rings and earrings, setting three items to the side and dropping the rest into the bag.

[Fortune]

[Ashley]

The elf ignores the garbage bag he receives from Mosby for the moment, and mentally fires off a responding text.

"Makes me no nevermind, but being that it ain't really my jeep, I can't be held responsible for its contents."

[Ol' Scratch]

[Rozhenko]

It takes a moment or two for Nick to realize that he can simply set his cup of soycaf down while he changes. Up until that point he was sort of hopping on one foot while trying to kick his boot off without spilling the drink. He's just grateful no one seemed to notice; or at least if they did, they had the decency not to mention it.

As he continues to strip down, he pipes up with a concern. "I was watching a few of those old shadowrunner flicks last night when something dawned on me. Everyone seemed to a nickname they used to hide their real identities, even those who didn't have a SIN or were using fake ones. Seems to me that we should probably think of one for each of us as we head down South if we want to earn any kind of credibility with these assholes. Because, like, I really doubt anyone's going to be all, 'Hi, I'm Alex Conklin the serial rapist and I'll be your driver for the evening' if you catch my drift."

By the time he was finished, Nikolai was as bare-assed as the day he was born and looking around for his new outfit.

[Fortune]

[Ashley]

The elf watches in amusement as some of the others start to strip down right there and then. He casts a quick inquiring glance in the Commander's direction, a small, wry smile lifting the corners of his mouth.

"If'n Ah got yer permission, Ah'll go 'n fetch us all some of them there duds y'all got packed away in the truck."

[ZenZen]

[O'Kerrigan]

Samantha was coughing hard as the tie between trying to swallow the last gulp of her lukewarm SoyKaf and bursting into laughter resulted in her nearly choking on it.
Finally managing to force it down the right part of her throat and getting some breath back while still chuckling hard, she addresses the stark naked ork, a broad grin on her face:

"Ya know, Nick, if you repeat that Chippenelf routine in front of them, I don't think your credibility as a registered sex offender will be questioned...like, at all.
Or did you even plan to drive like this, 'becoming one with the machine' and stuff?"

Suddenly turning towards the rest of the team, Sam instantly regains her composure and proceeds with a straight-faced proclamation, radiating the authority befitting her rank:

"Chief Warrant Officer Nick Rohzenko's dedication to his new identity is admirable.
We should all laud his efforts and strive to follow the prominent example his devotion sets for us!

...though maybe not right here, right now." she adds, an impish smile creeping back on her face.

[Ol' Scratch]

[Rozhenko]

Nick catches Sam's comment just as he bends over to pick up his boots. His reponse? A tantalizing wiggling of his arse. When he finally finishes and sets the entirity of his clothes on the table, he flashes a toothy grin and a wink. "Just following orders."

[Cthulhudreams]

[Mosby]

John grins back at Ash and says "As Nick's bare arse is the stuff of nightmares I'd be appreciative if you got him something yeah. Or just a towel. Ick."

John then stuffs his jacket in his bag then drops it at his feet for the moment.

[Ol' Scratch]

[Rozhenko]

Nick blanches. "You know, I am standing right here."

[Cthulhudreams]

[Mosby]

John starts to laugh at Nick's hurt remark "Well, I could say that you are actually a very taut and lean hunk of ork flesh with fine washboard abs, and shapely arse, but you are the sex offender! It's not public indecency if they enjoy the spectacle." grinning back at Nick with a sly wink.

[Fortune]

[Ashley]

In quick order the elf returns with a double armful of assorted clothing, dumping it in the middle of the blackjack table. Rummaging through, he picks out a pair of jeans and a bright yellow t-shirt, and then steps away so that others can get theirs while he changes.

"Y'all are just gonna have t'git yer own socks 'n shoes when yer ready."

[Ol' Scratch]

[Rozhenko]

Rummaging through selection, Nick pulls out a pair of blackened jeans and a fire-engine red t-shirt featuring Stalin, Lenin, and Rasputin celebrating someone's birthday while throwing confetti around. The caption "Communist Party" is stenciled underneath, complete with a backwards R. Once permission is granted, he runs off to grab a pair of comfortable hiking boots and some socks as well. So help him if the quartermaster only supplied the team with Hello Kitty socks in ork-size again.

While he was pulling on the shirt, the grizzled old pilot caught a glimpse of his Airborne tattoo on his arm. "Shit," he proclaims as he finishes sliding it on, "almost forgot about the tats." At that, a small command window appears in his line of vision and he prompty reprograms a few of the hard nanites in his system to go fix that oversight lickity-split.

[Mister Juan]

[Byrne]

Through most of the rather short briefing, Vincent had been quietly seated, silently running everything he knew in his mind. From the get go, he had disliked the fact he was to work up profiles with little information and a very tight time frame.

Now, he had barely scratched the surface, and they were getting shipped out.
Tonight.
With the intel blackout now in order, he'd have to work solely from memory and raw instinct. That made him rather uncomfortable. He had been tasked with a job, and now, he couldn't do it.

As his teammates around him started to joke around, probably venting out their anxiety before they hit the road, Vincent started to undo his tie first, then the cuffs of his shirt.

“If I may; I do have a question for you Commander.�

He threw his tie in the garbage bag.

“How are we supposed to I.D. El Sinsonte? I've started working on a profile, but it isn't finished yet, so this little hitch in the plan has me rather worried.�

He threw his jacket in the bag, followed by his right shoe, then his left.

“We have no idea what our target looks like, or how we are supposed to confirm his identity. How can we take out a person, without any sort of way to confirm that it really is him?�

[TheOneRonin]

[TheOneRonin]

[Galedeep]

[Ivan Beckett/Dean Keaton]

"In earnest, Commander, I think we'll do alright. Rehearsal might have made it easier, but like I said, and like you so succinctly summed up, we've been in tighter spots. I'm not worried about the lack of prep time, just the lack of intel, and gathering intel is something of a specialty of mine. I know some don't approve of my methods," he adds, tossing a glance towards Samantha with a shrug and an apologetic smile, "but no one can deny their effective. Work from the bottom up, and before too long, you've got a better picture of what the organization looks like."

Tossing his celtic robes and heavy belt into the bag, he pulls up a pair of tight gray pants, grabbing one of the more outlandish shirts from the bunch. "And hell, it might take time to get the intel, but you've more than set us up for the job," he said appreciatively, tucking in the swashbuckleresque shirt and sliding into a tight, long coat, double buttoned in the antiquated confederate (the first ones) style. Pulling on a pair of beige cavalry gloves, making sure to slip on his ring first, he slides his earring back into his ear and grins, picking up the thickest belt he can find among the assortments and snapping it into place, low on his hips.

Sliding his own tall boots on and situating himself, he runs his fingers through his hair and laughs. "Hell, I'm gonna need me a hat," he said, his voice dripping Alabama twang.

Standing, and leaning on the table, he grins. "I know some of you think I'm overoptimistic to the point of stupidity sometimes, but I think we oughta just relax and trust our skills and training. We'll have plenty of drek to clench up over later, so lets just do our jobs, rehearse in the van, and go step by step. I do know that when we get there, we need to see about accomodations; Sam and I are going to need to set up lodges, so we can perform the more interesting styles of spellcasting and conjuring, but that'll take some time."

Flipping his hair back, and braiding it tightly as he speaks, he looks around. "Think we can get a decent history together by the time we do the meet? Above and beyond the basics of our own identities...jobs we've pulled, and the like? I'm sure some of you have some unsolved cases you've looked into, not too high-profile, but substantial stuff. Ya'll wanna work anything like that into the team identity?"

[ Spoiler ]

If any of you have seen 3:10 to Yuma, Dean is going to be a whole lot like Charlie Prince. Except less gay.

[Mister Juan]

[Byrne]

Grabbing a few almost random articles of clothing, Vincent dressed himself back up. His mind was already racing in his head, putting together what little facts he knew about their target. Hopefully, they would get enough down time for him to have something solid up. It probably would never be as precise as he'd like, but it would be enough to get some sort of rough picture of who El Sinsonte might be.

Slipping into a bland gray t shirt, over weathered dark blue jeans, Vincent ran his hand in his short hair a few times, trying to rough them up a bit.

“Commander� the special agent started, speaking but not looking at her “I'm afraid I'll need you to call Helen for me... Just tell her I won't be coming home.�

There was no sadness or apprehension in Vincent's voice. It sounded so simple and to the point, as if the whole affair was but a minor nuisance.

Grabbing a black and red checkered shirt, Vincent looked toward Mosby.

“I believe we should get on the road, Colonel.�

[Cthulhudreams]

[Mosby]

John jokingly responds "I just like to make the process of stiffing me on intel and prep as painful as possible so it doesn't happen next time!" switching to a more serious tone "But I understand commander. We'll hit the road." He holds up his garbage bag "But you'll need to take these back and stick them back in our quarters. I don't want to throw them into the cars, might tip the hat to someone. I'll look forward to hearing from you. Might personally arrange for a 'trix dead drop with Nick if you want to smuggle the Intel across."

With that he turns back to the team and nods his head towards the vans and bikes "Time to scout out the goodies I suggest. While I almost hate the idea, can I suggest you all tag a van or bike as," he reaches into the air "a 'personal transport' for private use. I'm guessing we'll need it.

I agree with Ivan about coming up with some shit about stuff we've done before, we want to look like pros infront of this guy. Nicknames too if you want to do that.

I'd like to toss one more idea out there, might be a good idea to buddy up with someone else, then you can cover each others ass when the team isn't together, shack up, whatever. Not sure if it might be better to split up more though?"

With that he peels off his t-shirt, disconnecting his commlink from the datajack at the base of his spine and throwing it in the bag, sighing as the AR overlays disappear, leaving his ring on and pawing though the pile, saying mostly to himself "And now for the fun bit, I'm a construction security supervisor, its the south so it is kinda hot and humid, but I want to conceal a gun and possibly some other sensors and gear."

Eventually he compromises on a worn set of jeans, a tight white t-shirt and a red and white checked flannelet shirt which he leaves unbuttoned. Then he clips the cheap Chinese TCL commlink onto his belt, perching a set of sunglasses on his head which he then syncs to the phone, sticking the subvocal mic for voice control onto his throat, and slipping in a single earbud, twisting the tiny cables together, making sure the breakaway works and sliding them down his shirt and connecting them to the comm.

[TheOneRonin]

Cmdr. Haney agrees to tie up the last couple of loose ends, and bids you all good luck and godspeed on the mission before she walks out of the old casino building.

[Fortune]

[Ashley]

Now dressed, Ash tucks his pistols into the waistband of his jeans, then lets his loose-fitting, now sleeveless t-shirt drop to cover it.

Fetching his bag, he spills its contents of Glock pistols and spare clips over the blackjack table before catching the other's attention.

"Obviously Ah ain't had no chance t' check the rest o' the gear, but Ah put these here shooters together mahself, so's Ah know they's good t' go."

[Cthulhudreams]

[Mosby]

Mosby nods to Ashley, picking out one of the Glocks, checks the action, loads one of the magazines, chambers a round, then carefully puts the gun back down. He then slides an in belt concealed carry holster onto his right hip, jamming the glock into the holster, then carefully adjusting the position of the grip so it will be masked by the cheap commlink before pulling his t-shirt down over both, using a mirror behind the bar to make sure the gun isn't printing.

"Well, you heard the lady, lets grab our kit bags and hit the road. Ash, Ivan, if you can try and get to the meet, say 20 minutes in advance, and give it a quick astral and physical once over. Don't want any prying third parties, though I think thats probably low risk."

As he speaks he takes one of Nick's hacker grade prepared commlink and clips it into the datajack at the base of his spine, giving a little shudder as he does so.

"Nick, if you can have an eye in the sky, or just run an electronic sweep staged out of their comms, that would be peachy.

We've got all day to come up with a solid set of nicknames, cover stories, previous jobs and find an apartment or three, or six. Depending on how much you think you can stand the sight of each other." he gives a big grin with this, pleased to be on the go "I reckon we ditch the two big bastards" he nods towards the bigger vans "with trailers in a nearby carpark, just because I think turning up with trailers is weird. Thoughts? Oh, and if get some mojo from the mages, we can probably get there real early, and do some house hunting or the like."

While chewing the fat with the team he heads over to the vehicles, quickly checking the contents of each, looking for the armoury, saying "Oh, and I call dibs on the Toyota, I don't drive American!" as he grabs a skinlinked PP2000 from one of the assorted anonymous duffel bags, checks the action, grabs a pair of magazines, slams one home, checks the silencer and the syncs the smartgun with his cybereyes via the commlink in his spine.

He gives a grunt of satisfaction, then clips in the spare as the butt, doing a few movements to get a feel for the gun before unplugging the spare and putting them in the Toyota's glovebox, burying it under the spare tissue box, stuffer shack wrappers and other odds and sods.

"Guess I'm ready when you guys are."

[Fortune]

[Ashley]

The dark haired elf nods to Mosby, then casts his eyes towards Ivan, a sly grin curling the corner of his lips.

"I'm bettin' that you'll be wantin' t' take a bike, right?" Despite the question, Ashley continues on without actually waiting for a response. "I'll be takin' the other one then."

Ash winks at the mage, his grin widening and his eyes twinkling with excitement, the way they always do at the prospect of beginning a new assignment. He nods towards the trailers containing their gear.

"Jus' chuck whatever y'all be needin' for the meet into the car. The stuff ya can't carry on the bike, that is."

[ZenZen]

[O'Kerrigan]

Samantha sits at the table, sipping her SoyKaf while Cmdr. Haney starts to recall one of the fun moments for each Bravo Team member in their respective careers in order to expose how pampered they've been since joining ConsOps.
Azerbaijan '56 - complete off the books, hm? Guess I'll have to squeeze this story out of Nick sometime...

Nodding as the Port-Au-Prince rescue gig is mentioned, the revitalized memories of this exciting mission lighting up her eyes, she mutters a "...the part about the boots is vastly exaggerated, y'know...", more to herself than anyone else.
...and we didn't make it in time for 7 of them, regardless... a stream of thoughts surfaces, before she wills it back into the emotional graveyard of her subconscious, discarding it as futile reminiscence.
Snapping back as the Commander finishes the motivational part of her speech, she answers the rhetorical question with a sharp "Yessirr!", sporting a confident smile as she gives a short salute, using the hand not occupied with holding a coffee cup.

Cmdr. Haney finishes with restating the impressive amount of intel they got on "El Sinsonte": nil, nothing, zero.
Yeah, our target could in fact be everyone, hell, could be a shadow, a straw man invented by the real powers in charge, for all we know - talk about a clear mission objective there...
...well, time to find out who's better at hide-and-seek, I'd say...
...or chess...or whatever it is that mockingbirds play...

Just a her mind starts getting sidetracked, Ivan takes over talking, soon addressing Sam indirectly: