Commander Kreft stepped into the quietly humming room, surveying the regulars that stopped here for a mid-day meal or a late breakfast. Making his way to a table in the corner he sat down and smiled at the old comfortable feel of the chair and the subtly-hidden hook for his cane.
Aide, a coffee and a paper would be excellent. It’s high time that I caught up on the news here in the region.
an aide approached the table, sat down and spoke quietly
Commander, there are rumors of some rather odd construction going on in the Free Pacific Suites. We are hardly secure here if the rumors are close to true, but then they couldn’t be…
the aide shuddered
If they are even partially true, there may be no safe place in the region.
Down the street a bit, in a four door sedan, two men in suits sat, one smoking a cigarette, the other drinking a cup of cofee. “So, whos watching him again?” the one with the cigarette asked.
The other man sat up in his seat, and pointed out the winshield. “That black car, over there, is the local police. The white van, parked there, is FPSIA, the green truck, over there, is probably Packilvanian, and the blue minivan is NKVD.”
“Who the hell uses a green truck as a surveillance vehicle?” the first man asked.
The other smiled. “From what I can see, the Packilvanians take the opposite approach that we do. Like…say your trying to get through airport security without getting recognized. Theres two ways. The first is to be quiet, and obedient, and keep your head down, but, at times, that arouses suspicion. The other is to be as loud and obnoxious as possible, thus causing such a ruckus that the authorities assume that you couldn’t be trying to get past them. The packilvanians are taking the latter approach, were taking the former.”
The other man nodded. “Pretty smart. What do you think Kreft and his aid are discussing?”
“Probably budget plans or something. Heh…this is Kreft were talking about. You could put a nuclear bomb ten feet from him, and he wouldn’t realize that he was in danger.”
Both men laughed, and went back to watching the people who were watching Kreft…the diffirence being that, whereas all those agencies were there mainly to make sure that a major EP leader wasn’t assasinated or injured, the two agents were watching the agents and Kreft with a more…malevolent purpose.
OOC: Wasn’t sure what else to post, but I didn’t want to leave Wachovia to post alone. Plus, a bit of random suspense is always nice.
OOC, the IL intel is the NKVD.
OOC: Thus modified.
A packilvanian sitting at a table clighlty askew from Kreft’s perked up at his last statement.
Neko can hear well.
“Pardon my interuption, but there was no safe place in the EP beforehand. I seem to recall a huge war, and tense rivalries. Oh, and if you haven’t noticed all the traffic outside, it seems your being spyed on. That green truck out there is ours, and I’d think it safe to say that the rest are the other nations spies.”
Taking the opposite approach again. Sometimes you can learn more by listening to what is NOT said when a rival knows your listening.
Kreft gives the Neko an ironic smile.
Have you seen any of those Old West movies? In them, the main character never sits with their back to the door without knowing where every nearby challenger sits. If a person hasn’t learned that, they’re in sorry shape here in The East Pacific.
Kreft turns to his aide behind the bar
Make sure this Neko’s food is taken care of and that any other friends outside you find are well served. Oh, and some music for them too if you wouldn’t mind.
Kreft stands up slowly as his aide at the bar turns on the local Packilvanian station.
While there have always been threats, there are tunnels that neither I nor you can imagine the end of.
Leah stands on the street, in front of the Bar and Grill, looking at all the cars on the street. She shakes her head a bit and pushes open the door with the palm of her hand. She blinks a bit as she steps into the Bar, she walks up to the bar and takes a seat. Smiling at the Aide behind the bar.
“Well now seems to be a few more cars outside this day.”
She tries to hide the small laugh behind her hand.
Kreft sees a woman enter the bar and sit down. Certainly it couldn’t be. It was. He walked over to the bar and leans both elbows on it, looking at Leah in the mirror behind the drinks from around the world.
Yes, it does seem we have many friends outside doesn’t it.
Another green van with ‘Uncle Chow’s Cajun Salsa Filled Key West Fish Sticks’ written on the side pulled up and parked behind the other vehicles.
“Looks like everyone else is here, I wonder what this party is about?”, the driver said as the Fish Island Uklana van parked.
“I have no idea but whatever it is it’s big…” Kahn Dunaga replied and then began watching the watchers trying to figure out what they where watching…
On a building across the street, 3 agents, clad in black uniforms that matched the color of said building, looked down among the street. One of the agents, with binoculars in hand, looked at Kreft and the other man talking.
“Apparently, Kreft is just doing his usual duty.” Binocular agent said, flatly
“With Kreft it’s never the usual. Do you know why we were sent here?” Female communication agent hissed.
“To protect the Commander, especially since we’d like to see him at the meeting table for talks with us.”
“Exactly. You see all those vans down there?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Do you know what many of them plan to do?”
“Kill the Commander?”
“Exactly. Now what is our job?”
The third agent in the group, a young girl with a sniper’s rifle, smiled as she lay on the asphalt looking out at the street.
“We, Agent Dumas, are to protect the Commander, and kill those who try to do him harm.”
“Wait…” Binocular agent stated, There is a green van pulling up nearby. ‘Uncle Chow’s Cajun Salsa Filled Key West Fish Sticks’."
"Good news, Harket. That’s Fish Island. A bit obvious for them, though. They’re usually more discreet. My question is dealing with that black car down the street. It’s too shiny, " Dumas replied.
“Want me to take out their tires?” Sniper girl asked.
“No. We watch the area. Anything happens, we need to give cover fire and alert Kreft.”
“Aye, agent. By the way, has anyone heard from Agent Double seven-oh?”
“770 is inside the bar right now, sitting nearby, waiting for our signal.”
“Fun fun.”
Kreft and Leah continue to talk as the static chatter continues. A subtle hand movement alerts his aide behind the bar who opens his pocket computer and dashes off a quick message: “Black licorice all around.”
Nessereff mopes in, she hops up on a stool and puts her paper down,
“Tomato soup with saltines please, and a Sweetened Iced Tea”
(ooc she is depressed about Nie being away, as she was her nanny)
the bartender smiles and sets an iced tea on the counter
That soup will be on the way. It’s been a little while since we’ve one from The Race here.
“Ive been busy” she lies, “So whats with all the surveylance going on outside?”
she sips her tea,
the aide leans on the counter
Ah, well. It’s never really quiet around here anymore you know. And Kreft, well he’s quiet which makes people nervous sometimes I guess. It does seem that they are especially abundant. But that commander, why he told me to serve the teams outside some food and drink. You should have seen the look on the faces of those spooks. Like a kid who’s been caught playing hooky. They didn’t know quite what to say. Maybe next time, they won’t all block main street like that.
he finishes with a wink and turns towards the kitchen. in a moment he returns with a large steaming bowl of soup, some crackers and a spoon.
Here you go. Enjoy. And if you want to tell me what’s really bothering you. I’m here.
he winks and begins to clean some dishes behind the counter
Rillanon Police Unit A-17-23
The driver looked at the sergeant in the passenger seat. “What do you mean, ticket them all?”
The sergeant smiled. “Well, excepting that black car over there, all these vehicles are in restricted zones, are parked over a line, up on a curb, or haven’t paid a parking meter. And I’ll bet that rooftop is a restricted area.”
The officer in the backseat sat forward. “But aren’t we supposed to assist foreign agencies in their operations in Rillanon?”
The sergeant nodded. “Yes, but not when theres twelve of them in a one block radience, causing a traffic nusiance. I mean, that green van is parked halfway into the street!”
The officer sighed. “Are you sure about this, sergeant?”
The sergeant nodded. “Look, he doesn’t need three dozen people watching over him. Really. Hes x-military, and in a public place, and the enemy of no one. Three local cops, and maybe a couple Wachovians should be the only ones watching him.”
The driver nodded. “Alright then. Lets do it.”
The sergeant reached forward, and picked up the police radio. “Northwest Dispatch, come in…”
Street outside LadyRebels Bar and Grill
The four FPSIA agents were sitting and eating, when they suddenly heard a siren. “What the hell?” opening the door, one of the agents exited the van…
To have a RPD car hit him at about half a mile per hour. Stumbling back into the van, he automatically reached for his weapon, but pulled his hand away as both officers jumped out, one with a shotgun, and aimed them into the black van.
Across the street, the Fish Island van was similarily blocked by two police cars, and as the IL minivan attempted to escape, it was suprised to have the vice squad car pull out, and ram it in the side. The van crashed into a tree on the side of teh road, at about seven miles per hour.
Back on the FPS side of the street, the Packilvanian SUV pulled forward…only to move across a spike strip set moments before. As a SWAT van moved into place in front of the SUV, a highway patrol motercycle pulled in behind it.
On the roof of the building next door, the three Milesandian agents laughed. “Man, look at those agents and newsmen try to run!” The cops were dragging away, and chasing after about 3 dozen undercover agents, and news reporters at this point, as one or two attempted to drive away, and the rest ran.
Their laughing was cut off by the cocking of a shotgun behind them. Turning, they saw a policeman, and three building guards, all armed, blocking their way off the roof. “Do you guys have a pass to be up here?” the officer asked.
Kreft looked up for a moment. The aide’s smile disappeared quickly as Kreft turned back to Leah
Give me a moment will you?
Kreft snapped his fingers and an aide followed him outside. The site he saw was one of near pandemonium. Police officers, secret agents with obvious ear buds, disguised agents dressed as repairmen, newspaper agents and a clown ran this way and that. “A clown?” Seeing the Rillanon police chief standing nearby, he made his way to him with some difficulty.
What is going on here captain?
His voice was much icier than normal, thought his aide. Inside, the bartend turned the Nessereff.
Ooh, this is going to be good.
The captain turned, her smile quickly turning to a frown. Behind her, the cheif could be seen cupping his face in his hands. “Uhm…Commander Kreft! It’s really nothing you need cocern yourself with, sir. Simple police matter, thats all. We’ll take care of it.” As she finished, the black sedan went flying by, causing around thirty people to jump out of its way. Several police cruisers followed closely behind it, and a helicopter could be heard in the distance.
Next to her, the cheif raised his head, and a lightbulb seemed to go off. “Commander Kreft.” He asked himself aloud. “So that’s why all these people are here. They were all watching you!”
The captain turned to the cheif. “But…what about the clown?”
The clown had now beaten off nearly half a dozen police officer, and, despite being attacked by about three times that many, was still holding its own. “Well.” The cheif said, “I’ll bet you thats a Cylon from Unimatrix 0…”
Let the clown be. Cylons are peop… we’ll they’re something anyways. Oh and when this whole shenanigan is over, make sure you’ve taken care of that pack of squirrels in front of the bar and grill. They need to be sent to detox.
Kreft’s aide nearly bursts out laughing as Kreft re-enters the bar and grill.
Don’t mind him. He was trying to get reaquainted with an old friend and I think the shere volume of surveilance here caught him off gaurd.