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Post by Sara Pezzini on Jan 12, 2006 22:42:21 GMT -5
“Five nine, long legs, good skin… Alright baby… I suppose we can make an exception. I mean if Jimmy is sick then Jimmy is sick. You got the money?” Sara’s eyes looked from the glossy hungered stare to the briefcase in her hand. “What’d you think this is amateur night?” she shot back with a glib tone. The sizeable man shifted sausage like fingers about the bolt slide and allowed her access to the dingy apartment. Sara was dressed to kill, literally. From the too tight white button down shirt to the soft leather pants and heavy boots, the homicide detective was prepared for this type of night in more ways than one. Her conniving feminine side knew that it was easy to manipulate men when it came to appearance, but the practical cop knew enough to pack a little more heat. Tucked at her ankle, she housed a snubnose .357 and it was by sheer luck that the though pat down didn’t reveal it.
“Sorry bout that, but you never can be too careful these days. If Mr. Franchetti gets word that we let another narc in here he’d do more than just take away our parking passes you dig?” She always hated undercover work when a partner was involved. Her eyes looked over to the spiky haired boy who was handcuffed and on his knees adjacent the hollowed out television. Jake. They’d been working on him for a while now. His cheek was bruised, lip split, shirt torn. Quickly her eyes assessed the damage. “Don’t tell me you feel sorry for the guy?” “Would Uncle Frankie send me here if I was sort to go soft on a Fed?” “I dunno… who says Frankie sent you?” Her eyes rolled. There was always a catch. Sara tossed the briefcase on the table, tilting her head to the side and shooting him a look that clearly stated she wasn’t intimidated at this. “Yeah, who does?”
Casually, almost predatorily, Sara stalked in Jake’s direction. With a soft creak of leather she knelt, reaching out to grab up a fistful of his hair, forcing him to look at her. Green eyes blazed with anger, teeth flashing with a dark grimace. “Did you really think you could double cross us? Did you really think we wouldn’t smell you out for what you are?” She jostled him a little trying to make it look real. It was hard to tell from the look he was shooting back at her if he believed she was still on his side, and the thrill of the moment was near intoxicating. Her fist closed tight, as she slammed it hard against Jake’s cheek. Her eyes studied his reaction as if for the first time. “You got spirit kid, I’ll give you that.” Her fingers slyly transferred him a handcuff key, and then she stood, eyeing down at him with a sneer. “See you in the next life.”
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Post by Jake McCarthy on Jan 13, 2006 3:07:18 GMT -5
Things weren’t going as he’d expected them to go. New York was a big change from California. Even the criminals in California were laid back. In a sense. Sure there was the big names, but most of all they had that sunny coastal state of mind. New York was just about as opposite as you could get. Hard nosed, feel like they have to rush around just to get things done, rude. He chose it, this was his life now. He was the one who chose to leave Med School. Become a cop. Now there was the brief train of thought that said the life of a doctor was less hazardous to his health.
When the New York transplant woke up the side of his face stung. Body ached. The joints of his shoulders were starting to burn with having been cuffed so long behind his back. From the snide remarks and occasional free blows, he’d say they were rather enjoying this. Internally he cursed. There were a few choice words he was feeling that he’d describe his partner as, but to have been turned on. Of course he understood that undercover work had it’s risks. Adrenalin was what kept him going in moments like this, but his relationship with his new partner, Sara, was off to a bad start.
Teeth grit as he was knocked against the backside of his head, while the door was answered. And there she strut. Different than the Pezzini he knew. She moved like she was one of them, comfortable with this sexy side. He knew better, or at least he thought he did. By then he was starting to lose the feeling in his legs, and wrists were becoming red and raw from straining against the cuffs. Eyes lifted under narrowed brows as she neared. Fingers pulling into his sandy spiked hair. In any other situation he might have lingered on that thought, that feeling. Now wasn’t the moment.
“Did you really think you could double cross us? Did you really think we wouldn’t smell you out for what you are?” Jake licked the blood drying on his lower lip. As his eyes trained up to meet Sara’s. There were mixed emotions in his gaze. Then the corner of his lips twitched as he almost smirked. “And what’s that…someone who doesn’t have a stick shoved up my ass…” A moment after the hit he didn’t move. As jaw clenched shut, then blue orbs shot back up at her. Then felt the small key slipped into his possession. Discreetly as he could he unlocked the cuffs as Sara backed away from him. Waiting for the moment Jake dove into action.
If he knew one thing about his partner, she always packed heat. Her ankle was the logical choice. Eyes trained down Sara’s leg as she sneered down at him. As the cuff swung from his wrist he moved. Hand pulled the small concealed gun from the woman’s ankle holster. Jake shifted and fired a shot between Sara’s legs into the hand of an on coming thug. In another movement he was on his feet. “Don’t move!”
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Lara Croft
Sergeant
You know I can't resist a bit of fun.
Posts: 53
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Post by Lara Croft on Jan 13, 2006 14:51:55 GMT -5
Why she was doing this was well… utterly beyond her. Twice she had thought about turning back, after all what had Chase ever done for her? Not much, unless you counted getting screwed over by him. It was times like these that Lara wished she wasn’t female, because then feelings wouldn’t worm their way into her mind, nor would a guilty conscience. She knew if she didn’t try to get Chase out of what was most likely his worst scheme to date then she’d never be able to fully live with herself. So she had done what she could, researched and then within her discoveries she had found out just how deep the blonde playboy was in over his head, he was out right drowning.
Now here she was suffering from a slight hint of jet lag and in New York City… just why was she in New York? Because in her researching she had come across an old journal of her Father’s when he had gone after the exact same artifact that Chase was currently chasing (no pun intended) and since her Father was no longer living, Lara instead had to track down his old friend who had gone on the uneventful hunt with him, Kenneth Irons. Now Lara knew a bit about the mogul of a man, most of it not too trust-worthy but she didn’t have much choice in the matter and she planned to deliver a right good beating to Chase once she tracked his sorry arse down for all the trouble.
Hazel eyes slowly traveled the building before her, a brow arched ever so slowly, “ Impressive.” And she was somewhat impressed, the building was a well noticeable skyscraper that shined like a well polished gem in the sunlight. For a moment she actually felt slightly underdressed in her black slacks, deep blue sleeveless turtleneck, black tweed blazer and slightly dresser boots than normal. Too late to worry about proper wardrobe now, she thought to herself and made her way inside the building and then dealt with the cheesy elevator music as she watched the numbers count up to the floor she needed. Finally the much anticipated ding was heard and Lara most willingly exited the elevator and made her way too the desk of Irons secretary, “Afternoon. Is Mr. Irons in?”
The woman looked up from whatever it was she was doing and nodded giving Lara a very curious look over, “ Yes. Do you have an appointment Miss?”
“ No, sorry I don’t. And it’s Lady Croft.” Lara decided to go down the proper route with this and use her title instead of just going by Lara, for the moment anyways.
“ Very well, Lady Croft. I’ll alert Mr. Irons of your presence. Just a moment.” Lara nodded at the woman’s over professionalism and waited as patiently as possible… which wasn’t a very easy task too take on for her, especially when like him or not Chase’s life was on the line.
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Post by Sara Pezzini on Jan 18, 2006 23:54:29 GMT -5
The gunshot rang out against her eardrums, deafeningly loud in the small space. Sara backed away from Jake, raising her hands into the air as she continued to play the part. She could hear voices shouting behind her, and rattle for guns and a bellow for her to get down. They still didn’t know she wasn’t one of them. They still trusted her. The aroma of burnt powder barely registered in her nostrils before she broke persona and assisted her partner. A boot kicked back as she bent in half, throwing it and the briefcase sailing toward Louie.
He went down like a sack of wet potatoes, and Sara nodded to Jake as the pair worked as a solid unit now to clean up the rest. In the next few moves, detective Pezzini dodged, punched, and kicked her way toward the three remaining thugs. The first wasn’t as much of a challenge. She head-butted him with a grimace, revealing a flash of white even teeth, but the near grab from behind caught her off guard. Before she had time to register the near capture, Jake took him out. Again Sara breathed a sigh and nodded her thanks. The pair of them moved in toward the remaining dealer, Sara let Jake make the final arrest.
Thirty minutes later
“Don't get angry with me because you got pinched as a narc. It’s not my fault you practically bleed the penal code!” Sara was acting on the defensive as the pair entered their shared office. It was a smallish room with book ended desks and a pile of paperwork; mainly on her side. Despite the cramped work conditions each of them had added a few pieces of flair to their workspaces; Sara’s included a photo of her and her old partner chumming it up at the local bar, and a paperweight that had once resided on her father’s desk when he was a cop. Her eyes held the truth in them. She wasn’t angry about the situation, if anything she was amused.
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Sydney Bristow
Moderator
CIA Agent
"Write this down. E. M. E. T. I. B. Got it? Now, reverse it."
Posts: 67
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Post by Sydney Bristow on Jan 30, 2006 22:03:38 GMT -5
Morocco Tucking the black veil into place over the lower part of her face, Sydney peered around a heavy drapery. Smoke from the hukahs hung heavily over the room as the group of men gathered laughed and talked. They were all dressed impeccably, seated on giant velvet pillows as belly dancers draped themselves suggestively over them. Narrowing her hazel eyes, Sydney spied her mark and stepped out from the alcove. She was dressed like the other women in the room, wearing a skimpy halter top that concealed little and chiffon harem pants gave a generous look at her long legs. She had had darkened her skin with make-up to blend in with the other dancers. Just another day at the office,she thought to herself. Getting into her role, she danced her way over to her mark, a heavy set German who was sweating heavily. Syd swayed her hips suggestively at him, making the ornaments hanging low on her hips jingle with the movement. He groped at her with thick fingers and she used an immense amount of self-control to keep from breaking his nose with a quick punch. Mercifully, the other girls began to lead their men from the room and Sydney sighed inwardly as the German got up to follow her. No sooner had he closed the door to his room than he started to strip. He was so pre-occupied with sex that he failed to notice Syd reaching for the bag she had hidden under the bed. Only when he was down to his striped boxer shorts did he realize she had a fully loaded Beretta levelled at his face. "You know what I want," she said in German, her eyes narrowing as he gaped at her. His face turned a deep crimson as his mouth worked, trying to produce sounds. Syd moved in to silence him, landing a heavy blow with the butt of her pistol. He slumped sideways, crashing into the dresser beside the door. A mirror on top toppled to the floor, shattering. Sydney cursed as she quickly searched the German's suit jacket for what she was after. She could hear the running footsteps of his guards as they pounded up the stairs. A fast search of his briefcase revealed the jump drive she was after and she fired a few rounds at the door as it crashed open before diving out of the room's window. Hitting the awning below at an awkward angle, Syd was catapulted onto the busy Moroccan street and landed in a bone-jarring heap. Angry voices shouted above her head and she was on her feet, running before her body could even register pain. Syd dodged people in her path, her pulse roaring in her ears as adrenaline drove her. Bullets whined overhead and she ducked, turning sharply into a narrow alley. Her shoes slid slightly in the loose sand on the pavement and she cursed her outfit. Whoever said being a woman was easy never had to run in her slippers, heels or flats. Finding the doorway she needed, she skidded into the coolness of the building. Plastering herself flat against a concrete support, she heard her pursuers run past the doorway before she headed the other way. "Back there! She must have gone in there!" a voice yelled in Farsi and Sydney began to run again. Her lungs burned and the muscles in her legs were trembling with fatigue by the time she saw a huge basket. Glancing over her shoulder and seeing the shadows of her pursuers on a building wall, she jumped into the basket and pulled the lid down over her head. Sydney worked hard to make as little noise as possible as she regained her breath. She stifled a cry of surprise as the basket moved and then was lifted. Tightening her grip on the Beretta, she curled her finger around the trigger. She was damned if she would go without a fight. The basket was hefted and slid onto something before Syd heard the unmistakable rumble of a diesel truck engine. She was jostled in the basket for what seemed like forever as the truck bumped over ruts and headed out into the open desert. Finally, it came to a halt and the basket was lifted down. Sydney shifted position and aimed the Beretta at the lid of the basket, ready for a fight. The familiar face that peered down at her frowned when he saw the gun. "A little nervous we weren't the ones picking you up?" he asked, extending a hand to help her stand. Sydney accepted the help as she climbed from the basket and smiled at Michael Vaughn, her CIA handler. Vaughn was one of the the good guys, the one who helped her straddle the line between good and evil. Handing over the jump drive for copying, she put her hands on her hips and raied her eyebrow at him as he looked her over. "Well Vaughn, you never know in this line of work who will be on the other end."
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Post by Jake McCarthy on Mar 3, 2006 3:13:22 GMT -5
The New York transplant was fuming, the bust had gone every which way but right. Eyes rolled as Sara walked next to him. Commenting about how he’d been pinched as the narc and that he gave himself off as a cop. “So what, every time something goes wrong you’re going to hit me!?” The blonde was bent out of shape and for a Californian, that was saying something. Boots moved up the stairs following his new partner. He was coming to expect the bustling pace of New York, even in the work place. To Sara it seemed more amusing, watch the new guy take a fall.
Leather jacket was tossed over the back of his chair at the small workspace he’d been assigned. Like Sara’s it held elements of himself. Some pictures mostly of the surf. And then his family. That was his second life, the surf. East Coast water was colder than West Coast, and the waves weren’t quite as good. But it was something, anything to take away the stress. Hands ran through his short spiked hair as he turned around looking towards his partner. There was still a mess of paper work they needed to do or have Siry on their asses. And he learned quick you didn’t want that. “You know…I think you owe me a drink, roughin’ me around. Hell make it two.”
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Post by Sara Pezzini on Mar 3, 2006 3:17:43 GMT -5
“Aww I didn’t hit you that hard you big baby…” Sara walked over to the bleach blonde surfer and ruffled his hair. “But if you really wanna play the martyr card I guess my only choice is to buy you a drink. Maybe then you’ll stop complaining so much… jeeze it’s a wonder you surfer-cops get any arrests done at all; they train you to wear an apron and snivel over love taps out in LA?” With her tongue in her cheek, Sara straightened her partner’s tie and brushed some invisible dust off of his shirt. “Come on… you know the big guy is probably chomping at the bit just knowing were back in the building, and if you wanna make out a misconduct report I’ll try not to take it too personal.”
Sara looked over Jake’s shoulder to see Joe Siry leaning in the door. A cigarette was chomped tight in his teeth and he seemed to have an expression of anger mixed with constipation on his face. “Pezzini, I’m not about to let you waste 40 minutes of my time when I could be at home right now eating my wife’s fried chicken. So I’m making you a deal. You and McCarthy get your report straight and on my desk first thing tomorrow morning, without a hiccup, understand? Jake I know your new to working with Pezzini here, and she’s a royal pain in the ass I ain’t gonna kid you, but I’d prefer if you two can settle this without the red tape. Internal affairs is just dying to see me into early retirement and I put my ass on the line for you two, but I’ll be damned if they’re gonna take my pension just cause of a little misunderstanding.” Sara shot her partner a look and then one to Siry. “I’m sure we can work something out Joe.” Grabbing up Jake’s jacket, Sara winked to him before tossing it in his direction. It wasn’t long before they were walking out to the parking lot, Sara’s helmet dangling from her fist. “I’ll meet you over at the Whiskey Tango?”
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Post by Jake McCarthy on Mar 3, 2006 3:20:47 GMT -5
The whole New York way of life was something he was still getting used to. As well as his partner. He heard the comments half of the precinct had said when they found out he was assigned to her. Even after his first initial meeting with her he was sure he was being punished. Slowly but surely their relationship was growing. At least he knew she had his back, though sometimes he did wonder about the woman. Head moved as she came and ruffled his hair, eyes shooting up to her. “Ha, ha.” Still slightly sour he moved as she got even closer, straightening his tie and smoothing his shirt.
Once she’d released him index finger worked the knot of his tie, loosening it once again. Then hand ran through his short spiked hair. Shoulders straightened as Siry’s voice caught him off guard. Turning he looked to the superior officer. Head nodded his direction. “Yes, Sir.” Once again eyes shot to Pezzini. At least she got them out of sitting there, for now. Catching his jacket mid toss he followed his partner outside. “ Sure. You’re buying first round…and I’m going to hand you you’re ass in pool.”
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Post by Sara Pezzini on Mar 3, 2006 3:24:31 GMT -5
After tucking her hair into her helmet, Sara’s Buell roared to life. And as Jake started to make his demands that she buy the first round she held her finger up to the side of her head, pretending she couldn’t hear him. “What? I’m sorry, I can’t hear you!” she shouted over the engine, grinning behind the protective gear and then taking off in the direction of the bar. She parked the monstrous machine in the side lot of the Tango and walked inside. The place was friendly enough by her standards, and other than herself and now her newly acquired partner, it wasn’t frequented with off duty cops. That suited her well.
When she wanted to unwind from a long night on the job, she wanted to get as far away from the familiar faces in the office as possible. She noted the bar regulars seated at the bar; Rocco, the MacManus brothers Connor and Murphy and then took a table adjacent the pool table. She waited for Jake to arrive, his beer already waiting for him. She racked up the resin pool balls getting prepped to shoot a game of nine-ball and then leaned against her cue. “Since I did the breaking back at the bust, I think you aught to do the honors.”
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Chase Carver
Rookie
Run, run away...live to love another day.
Posts: 18
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Post by Chase Carver on Mar 3, 2006 23:08:31 GMT -5
Note to self: Don't ever borrow money from the mob.
He had made that note to himself two years ago, the last time he found himself in debt with a mob boss. It seemed as though he didn't learn his lesson the first time. Actually it was difficult to learn a lesson that you were never taught. Why did he come back to New York in the first place? Perhaps he had forgotten that he was in debt in the first place. It had been two years. Or it was probably the fact that he was so confident in himself that he had forgotten about the long standing debt all together. Uncle Frankie however didn't forget about anything that had to do with money.
He had only been in the city for three hours before two armed men in trenchcoats came up behind him and forced him into a car. Thirty minutes later he found himself ushered into a cold meat freezer. They sat him down in a chair and he waited until the boss arrived. Frank "The Butcher" Franchetti, the boss of the Franchetti crime family. He had no interest in finding out why the man was call "the Butcher" even though he was quite aware that meeting in a meat freezer was most likely not a coincidence. The man looked down at Chase and smiled. It was a very deceiving look. "Mr. Franchetti! I was just on my way to see you..." He was quickly cut off as the man didn't seem to have the patience for small talk. "Chase... Chase... it has been a long time. I was wondering if you had forgotten about poor old, Uncle Frankie." Chase lowered his head only to have it lifted by one of the men that had brought him in. "You know, Chase... when I found out that you were back in town my first thought was to have one of my boys introduce you personally to the Hudson river. Then I thought I'd let you see how quick a drop it was from the top of the Statue of Liberty. But I had a drink and I thought, I haven't seen you in so long, I'm sure the only reason why you would show you face in my city is if you had my money... with interest."
Chase couldn't even remember how much he owed the man and even if he did there was no reason that he could pay the man back right now. In other words if he didn't think quickly he was as good as dead. "You read my mind, Mr. Franchetti. That is the reason I came back to New York. I have a business proposition for you, one that will eclipse the debt that I have with you." Frankie eyed the man somewhat annoyed but he knew that if he killed him the debt would never be payed and he was all about lining his pockets. "Ok, I'm listening... but I warn you Carver if your bullshitting me you'll be found in here hanging with the rest of these carcasses."
Chase took a deep breath, the cold air burned his throat as the condensation flowed from his lips as he began to tell the man about his plans. "A couple of months ago I came across a rare item of extreme value, it is infact a part of a larger ancient artifact call the Vajra. and if you allow me to find the other peices I will be happy to turn the artifact over to you. It is worth atleast ten times how much I owe you and that's just a ball park figure. With your connections I'm sure that you could name your price and dealers would fall over trying to outbid each other for it."
Frankie eyed him then pulled out his gun cocking and aimed it at the man's head. "Do, I look like a fucking relic enthusiast to you. I just want my f-ing money." He placed the safety back on his weapon. "In saying that, if I kill you I don't get anything. Except maybe the pleasure of getting rid of another pretty boy smuck like yourself. Lucky for you, money is more of a personal pleasure of mine. Here's what I'm gonna do. I'm gonna let you live and you're gonna bring me this artifact. You have two months, and so you don't try to double cross me, I'm gonna send one of my own to tag along." Frankie already knew the perfect person the send along for a job of this caliber although he was quite certain that he wouldn't be happy about it. "Somebody get Jackie on the phone and tell him that I want to see him.
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Razor
Rookie
You think I'm trying to hurt you? I'll put it this way, I don't try.
Posts: 5
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Post by Razor on Mar 5, 2006 5:05:28 GMT -5
New York City, New York Manzinetti Apartment Complex Sub Basement: Torture Room, Soundproof Tortured: Nunzio Alengzetti
She didn’t need much reasoning for anything she did. Hell… torture was her job, she loved it as a mother would her new born babe. However, Razor was something different. She was-well, dangerous, even if she was trying to have fun. A sadistic grin ran over her features as she plucked at the tied mans back, her knife going in and out-soft and poetic like a deranged opera as the music flowed on in the background. Those she often work with even cringe at the sight of the gore she creates.
A side glance, a simple movement of the head, and she smirks. She’s done with her masterpiece upon his back… her hand raises and the gauntlet retracts the blade she was all-too familiar in using. A grin appears upon her face again and her ‘fans’ stare, a slight smirk-behind the green of sickness-appears upon their own lips.
As if finishing in intercourse, her body pulls itself away, the straddling she had at one point been doing over with, and her hand pulls upon the lever that brings him to a vertical position rather than a horizontal position. It was interesting, to look at her own work. It was like the Sistine Chapel to her, something to stare in awe at before she found herself eye to eye with her companion. “Are we going to talk?” she whispered, her dark lips just centimeters from his ear.
Tired eyes looked up and he coughed, a splatter of blood went to her shoulder. For some odd reason, she didn’t even flinch, didn’t move, as if it had never happened, her face only went from bad to grim. “That’s a yes I take it.” Before her clawed fingers of the gauntlet she wore caressed his beaten cheeks. His body was shaking-fighting from going into shock… but it didn’t matter to her. Metal clad fingers dug into his hair and pulled the head connected, his back arching from the sudden change in position.
“GAH!” his voice whimpered and he tried to pull back to no avail, so he gave in-quickly… blood rushing off the rack-like table as the fresh cuts on his back twisted to unnatural positions. “Alright, Alright….” He whispered and moaned, trying to not let her see the tears that traveled down his cheek. “It’s in the warehouse! We thought we could double cross you…” his eyes traveled to the two fresh corpses on the right of him, Giovanni and Tony lay dead and motionless-and as naked as a new born babe. His body shook again, but he fought off the shock for a few more moments. “I’ll admit it! Just let me go. It’s at our warehouse on 17th and Mill in Olde Town. I swear, check the first floor office, second shelf in the third filing cabinet. All $50,000 should be there I swear.” his voice was a pathetic whimper by the time she finally let him go.
“Keep him there while I go check this… information.”
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Sydney Bristow
Moderator
CIA Agent
"Write this down. E. M. E. T. I. B. Got it? Now, reverse it."
Posts: 67
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Post by Sydney Bristow on Mar 19, 2006 12:15:52 GMT -5
Sydney was working diligently on her report about her mission in Morocco when the envelope hit her desk. Glancing up, she felt her stomach clench in a knot when she saw Arvin Sloane.
Sloane was her boss at SD-6 and a loathesome man. Seven months before, Sydney had tried to leave SD-6 to pursue a normal life with her fiancee Danny. She had revealed her secret life to Danny and Sloane had found out while she was on a mission in Taiwan. When Syd returned, she found Danny dead in his apartment at the hands of an assassin hired by Sloane himself.
Since then, it had taken all Sydney had to keep from killing Sloane every time she looked at him. He had lied to her, deceived her about what she thought was defending their country. The only thing that kept her from murdering the man and getting herself killed in the process was her work with the CIA. It would ultimately dismantle SD-6 and all of its sister cells, bringing down the very man she despised.
Sloane's lips twisted in a smug smile as he splayed his fingers over the envelope. "Your mission in Morocco went very well. We were able to obtain some valuable information from the jump drive concerning Rambaldi's journals."
Syd forced a smile, taking just a tiny bit of pleasure in the knowledge that Vaughn had modified some of the files on the jump drive to give SD-6 false information. "Thank you." Pushing her glasses up on the bridge of her nose, Sydney went back to typing.
Sloane cleared his throat and leaned against the corner of her desk. "I have another assignment for you, a long term one. I need you to go under cover as an assistant to an art currator at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York. I'll be sending Marshall with you as back-up and Dixon will be checking in perdiodically."
Syd's eyes slid to the envelope Sloane had his hand on. "Leave it and I'll read it when I'm finished with my report. If I have any questions, I know where to find you." She flashed him a smile that was more a baring of teeth.
Anger flared in Sloane's eyes for a hot second before something like a cloud passed over them and his perpetual smug smile returned. "Very well. You leave tomorrow morning at 05:30, bound for JFK. You'll have transportation waiting at the airport."
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Jackie Estacado
Rookie
"Looks like me and my darkness is stronger than you and your light."
Posts: 12
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Post by Jackie Estacado on Apr 7, 2006 16:24:09 GMT -5
She stepped out onto the catwalk her eyes fixed on the crowed of gawking onlookers. A long pole extended in front of her she reached out and grabbed it pulling her body forward and using her momentum to spin her around and then back to the floor. Seductively she turned her back to the crowd and tugged at the string that was tied behind her back delicately and held her top against her body as she turned to face the crowd once more. She lowered herself as a bald man pulled out a face bill of high denomination and place between her lips and as a reward she placed the top on top of his head revealing her twins to him aswell as the rest of the drooling crowd.
Jackie sat at a table a few feet away watching the scene as he sipped on a glass of dark alcholic liquid. The two eyes met and she found herself drawn to the dark haired man and hoped off the platform and made her way over to him. He watched as she climbed onto his table and seemed to dance for his own personal pleasure a gesture that for a normal man would be appreciated but for him it was a mere tease, testing a taboo that he wouldn't dare approach. She turned back to the crowd and slipped off her bottoms giving him the real show and for her effort he placed a bill in the only place that she could hold it. She reached back and grabbed the bill and turned to face him once again when his phone went off. He reached into his pocket and answered. "This is Jackie... I'll be right there"
Slipping his phone back into his pocket he finished his glass and brushed the woman away as he removed his wallet and dropped the payement for his drinks on the table. The woman seemed dissappointed by his reaction but quickly got over it as she moved back to the bald man that was seemingly being generous with his money. Jackie stood to his feet and made his way to the exit not giving the woman a second thought. There was no form of temptation that was worth the consequences that would follow a night of carelessness. He knew this more than most and for reasons that no mere person could even fathom. Uncle Frankie had requested to see him and he didn't plan on keeping the man waiting.
It had been two weeks since the boss had given him an assignment and in all honesty the lay off was beginning to become frustrating. Think of it as a form of stress release, one that he couldn't get in the fashion that he would of probably liked. He exited the gentleman's bar and stepped into the night of New York as he made his way to his car. The dimly lit parking lot was a haven for those that would try and take advantage of those leaving the establishment and unluckily for the group of men that approached Jackie didn't have the time to play. "We'll take your money and that slick ride of yours..." Jackie paused at his car door and noticed the flicker of the dim light. "If only I had time to play with you guys." He quickly pulled out his gun and fired a shot shattering the light above them and placing them in a blanket of darkness surrounded by the light of the other street lamps around them.
"Where the hell did he go? "I don't know man..." "I feel like chicken tonight, like chicken tonight..." "What the hell was that?" "Hey boss, can I have the one in the middle... the chunky one." "This is way to weird man, let's get the hell out of here."
The three thugs ran to the light leaving Jackie to get into his car and his darklings annoyed at the fact that they weren't allowed more fun. "You know, boss. You could always try the whole create-a-chick thing again." "Then you could have her do anything you want, if you catch my drift." "Bang, Bang, Bang" "Be quiet!!!" "Bang, Bang, Bang" "Shut up!!!" "Bang, Bang, Ba...."
The darkling quieted unable to talk with the barrel of Jackies gun lodged in his mouth. "Would you like me to finish it for you?" Jackie replied cocking back the hammer. "Sorry Boss..." a muffled voice answered among the snickers from the backseat as Jackie placed the gun back to his side. "So, where to, boss?" another asked. "Uncle Frankie wants to see me." "Ooooooh, boss is in trouble..." He reached for the gun with his right hand and they quieted once again as he pulled up to the Franchetti estate.
Parking the car he walked out placing the gun back in his jacket although he knew that the guards would search him and remove it once he entered. A man of Franchetti's power could never be too careful. Stepping into the building he approached two large men that he knew well but not personally as they never spoke and paused as they frisked him and pulled out his weapon removing the clip and the extra shell before handing it back to him before setting the clip aside for him to recover after his meeting. Walking into the room he found Frankie sitting at his desk and the man smiled as he saw his adopted nephew. "Jackie my boy... good to see you." he walked over and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "You sent for me Uncle Frankie?" He nodded and moved back to his desk. "I have an important job for you. An associate of mind has brought to my attention some priceless artifacts that have peaked my interest. I want you to accompany him in retrieving them for me."
Jackie couldn't believe what he was hearing, arguably one of his top hitmen and he was relegating him to babysitting some prick archeologist. "Uncle Frankie, I'm pretty sure one of the other guys would be better suited for this, what about Tommy...?" Frankie gripped the glass in his hand and threw it against the wall in a rage at Jackie's comment. "You questioning me, Jackie...?" He nodded, "No Uncle Frankie, it's just..." he was quickly cut off. "Good, I treat you like a son, I would hate to find out that you cant be trusted with something like this. You can find him at Warehouse 56, he'll explain to you the rest in details." One more thing Jackie, dont disappoint me."
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Post by Arvin Sloane on Apr 22, 2006 13:51:10 GMT -5
Arvin Sloane's fingers curled into fists and uncurled. He kept doing that as he sat behind his desk, staring at the closed door. Curl, uncurl. His hands shook as they worked, more with anger than strain. Sydney Bristow was becoming a problem.
Sloane had known her for most of her life as one of her father's closest friends. He thought of her as a daughter and it had pained him to send the hit man after her fiancee. There was collateral damage in their business and Sydney had to learn that lesson at some point in her career. It was her fault he died; it was her words that doomed Danny.
Ever since then, Sydney had been insolent, cold and defiant. She stopped just short of being completely insubordinate. They both knew if she became a serious discipline problem, she wouldn't be alive much longer. The younger Bristow was an excellent field agent, better than her father had been at her age.
Sloane put his hands flat on the desk top and reached for the phone. Sydney just needed a reminder, a shot across the bow if you will, of the consequences if she continued on her current path. Punching in the familiar numbers, the phone rang once before a woman's voice answered.
"I have a job for you," Sloane said. "You'll need to go to New York City."
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Deverick Masters
Rookie
I am the salvation of many and the damnation to many more, Before you run, check your shadows
Posts: 1
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Post by Deverick Masters on May 3, 2006 19:47:14 GMT -5
The door to the back alley access of the Tender Kitten night club flew open with an exploding force as a man in a Armani suit sailed over the dumpster with a blood curdling scream and striking the concrete divider with a very wet splat, bouncing off and landing upside down as he slid down the side. A large towering figure stepped out from the now bent door, straightening to his full height which ascended higher than doorframe reaching almost past 7 feet. There was no emotion upon his face as his steel grey gaze fell upon the man and watched as the nearly broken figure on the ground.
The man in the suit, began to stagger as he regained his footing feebly and raised an accusing figure to his attacker. " YOU DUN KNOW WHAT YA GOT YOURSELF INTA, JUNIOR!!! I RUN THIS TOWN!!! YOU THINK THE COPS ARE GONNA KEEP TONY DA BULL IN THEIR FUCKING BIRDCAGE?!? YOU BETTER WISE U-..UGH!" The tall man stared as Tony was struck in the jaw by his own shadow in the privates. Gasping his voice quieted as he struggled to breathe. The tall man walked over slowly and leaned down, almost bending in half as he looked into the man's eyes. Tony's eyes barely held focus as they were tearing up. " 2314 Indiana avenue..." The tall man's grey eyes blazed inwardly with a controlled rage.
Tony looked at him quizically as he gasped like a gold fish out of water, or he trying to swallow his nuts back to where they belong. " What?" He croaked with his mouth agape.
"2314 Indiana Avenue.... Chicago, IL... The home of Marcus and Elizabeth Moorehead..." he voice was barely a whisper as he stared at Tony, who's eyes widened as recalled the CPA and his family. " They had a daughter, in her early teens... a very pretty girl..."
Memories began to flow back into Tony's head as the pain subsided leaving a throbbing and a smile crossed his lips. Once more from his shadow, a large fist came streaking forth, but this time the ethereal fingers were extended and reached out and grabbed Tony's nether region in a vice tight grip that seemed to grow stronger and stronger. the fist pulled him closer to the tall man.
" You killed her family and you and your friend took turns with the girl.." A snarl came from the tall man's throat as he watched Tony's pained face begin to change hues. His eyes were locked upon him as he continued. " You left the girl to die after you slit her throat after you finished your sadistic endeavor and went out the front door..."
Tony's eyes began to bulge to the point of almost popping from his skull as he gasped and leaned against the tall man. " So, what was...( gasp) she to you?"
The grip on Tony's groin lessened and then disappeared as the tall man stood up, Tony fell to the earth and curled into a ball. The tall man's eyes blazed as they looked down upon the man who had raped a child. " She was no one to me..." His eyes began to glow as his hands ascended and the shadows began to grow denser around himself.
At this point a cry came from inside the club , " BOSS!!!" as five men carrying automatic machine guns came running out and began firing at the tall man. The bullets passed right through where his body should be, but they couldn't see it. And his face revealed no acknowledgement of the bullets even hitting him. That is when they heard no longer there, but the body of Tony 'the Bull' Mindelli lay lifeless, his body riddled by the deadly projectiles."Jesus Christ, Tony..." Shouldering the weapon, the man reached up and pulled at his hair as a breath hissed thru his teeth and looked skyward. " FUUUUUUUUCK!" He had just killed the head of the family with his own gun.
One of the goons who had helped began to falter with his words as fear crossed his face. " What the fuck happened, Jackie? What da fuck happened?" He began to stammer as his mind was trying to find the logic of the situation. " JACKIE, WHAT THE FUCK DID WE DO?"
Leaning up against the wall, Jackie ' the Jackyll' was trying to pull his head in anguish, frustration, agitation, rage, you name it. He looked up as he had a focus for his emotions. " WHAT DID WE DO?" He shifted his gaze as he fell into deep thought. His nerves were were, but somehow he found resolve. " We... just fucked up... Royally!" The shocked realization struck his boys as they began to understand what was going to happen now. They had just signed their death warrants...
Jackie hands bega to shake as he tried to recall what he had seen. A big man came into the club, roughed the security up and made for the VIP room. He had a denim jacket on, hell he was wearing all denim and a badge was dangling from his neck. But it wasn't a PD badge, Jackie had seen enough of them in his life to know he wasn't no cop. He had long hair like one of those hippy or rocker freaks. He knew exactly who he was after, and then lights went out, his men tried to fight the guy off but it was like he couldn't be touched. They had run to back room and grabbed the UZIs and c "Stash the guns, call the cops..." One of his men began to protest, but Jackie raised his hand to cut him off. " Tony just got whacked by a rivel gang!!!" He looked to the one that seemed to be the most shaken by what had happened, but he was also the best liar and Jackie knew he could pull it off. " Chuck, go call Tony's wife, his brother and his sons... they need to know what has happened here. " He looked to another. " Call the fellas, we need to figure out what our next move is..." came out back to help Tony...
"Stash the guns, call the cops..." One of his men began to protest, but Jackie raised his hand to cut him off. " Tony just got whacked by a rivel gang!!!" He looked to the one that seemed to be the most shaken by what had happened, but he was also the best liar and Jackie knew he could pull it off. " Chuck, go call Tony's wife, his brother and his sons... they need to know what has happened here. " He looked to another. " Call the fellas, we need to figure out what our next move is..."
"JACKIE!!!" One of the men screamed as he pointed to the ground where Tony's body was laying, only Tony was no longer there. All that remained was the bloody outline of where his body had been. Out of the corner of their vision, they catch sight of a shadow as it moved down the alley.
"Okay, you know what... let's just say that.... Tony just found a skirt and ran off with her to Rio... Sound good?" He stared after the shadow for a moment and then looked to his men who began nodding slack jawed.
Six hours later, the sun was rising as a team of doctors came stumbling out of an OR at Mt. Sinai Hospital after they stablized the condtion of Tony Minelli and had him moved to the ICU. Tony had not died in the alley by his own men, but he was really close to it. The doctors stood in their break room as three uniformed officers took their statements as to the condition of Mister Minelli...
ICU: Room4 : Tony Minelli eyes began to flicker as he began to come around, the saline drip felt cold going into his veins and his mouth felt like a sandbox. Through blurry eyes he began to focus on someone moving in his room. " Mister Minelli?" The voice was fairly deep and distant to Tony. He managed a soft groan as he tried to focus. " Sir, I am here to enforce the bond you placed upon your departure from the Kent county Lock up last September..."
( Oh great, ) Tony thought, ( A fucking Bounty Hunter) " wha..?" he managed to squeek out.
" Mister Anthony Minelli, I have a warrant for your arrest and extradiction orders from the Kent County court house, along with the cooperation of the Local Police..." The man pulled out a series of blue folded letters and showed them to Tony. But Tony wasn't looking at the papers, he was looking at the man's jacket. Denim! He began to look up as his heart monitor began to beep more rapidly. his eyes widened in horror. He fumbled for the call button and depressed it.
Within seconds two nurses came running in as the ashen faced Tony was staring into a corner, his heart racing faster and faster. One of the nurses called for a doctor as the second one prepped a needle. Tony's eyes never left the corner as they tried to get his heart rate down.But there was nothing there. As one of the nurse passed by Tony's vision the large figure of man appeared before his eyes. He let out a scream and tried to point but his hands were restrained. One of the nurses looked to where he was focused, but saw nothing.
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