as written by Ottoman and Azrican
The arrival was a quiet one, and one under escort. The air-car carrying the Imperial Emissary and his diplomatic staff from their embassy was flanked on either side by both Coalition and Imperial craft, both to protect the Emissary from threats both foreign and domestic here in the homeland of their enemy. Still, the noble reminded himself as he looked out the window to the lightly urbanized landscape below him, their hostilities were, for the moment, suspended. They had a mutual nuisance, after all, and it would suit them both well to dispatch it through cooperation, if only to completely dispel the involvement of either party. Petar sighed at such thoughts, rather preferring to remain in their state of cold war than allow, or at least propose to allow, Coalition operatives inside of their borders. It was a vulnerability that he would rather not expose.
The craft's landing was swift when it came, as was the diplomatic staff as they disembarked, eager to be on their way to the meeting. There was no briefing or hint that the Coalition delegates might have arrived first, a slightly irksome matter but nothing that truly amounted to any significant insult, and so with only a momentary pause upon entering the conference room Sir Petar Stojanovic examined the opposing delegation before offering his greeting: a snap of the heels and a rigid imperial salute accompanied his accented Belkan. "Grüß euch Gott." The jet-black uniform of the Landwächter and the violet Waffenfarbe trim of the various items that comprised it showed that he was a ranking member of the Imperial Foreign Ministry, though the various colorful ribbons and medals that adorned his breast contained neither the colors of House Kampf or the Reich itself, but rather those of House Drazovic.
Petar was a Stovak knight before he was an emissary, after all.
Only upon acknowledgement of the greeting did he moved to sit, bidding that his retinue do much the same. There was no need to waste time after all, not with a potential terror cell on the loose. It was known that this Faith individual had claimed responsibility for the acts, yes, but what her base of power and support was was unknown. With deliberate movement the man snapped the fasteners on his briefcase loose, propping the thing up on the table beside where he sat and removed the relevant papers and documents. "I take it that my office has forwarded the basic information regarding our meeting?" Petar soon ventured, his accented Belkan giving way to heavily accented Aenglis. "I would prefer not to waste time with rituals and niceties with civilian lives at stake."
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The windows of the suite were dimmed, drained of the bright light shining from inside save for two small illuminations where the diplomats were seated. As the Belkan delegate entered the empty floor strobed with a few whirs, holographic projectors winding up underneath the transparent tiling of the room. Shutter slowly drew over the windows after the suited figure returned a slow salute and the Stovakian Landser took his seat.
“Yes indeed, Herr Stojanovic. As we speak there may already be events underway to forward this person’s agenda.” He said, features unchanging while he lowered a hand towards a brightly lit display in front of him. “Unfortunately the attacks in the Hegemony’s Western Frontier could not be stopped but, when a Apparatus special forces team compromised what we believed was a locally-based insurgent group it was discovered the same individual who had organized the attacks in the Hegemony was also responsible for several operations in the Razorbacks.”
Several images burst into focus in the gap of space between the two delegations, everything from star maps and unit citations to after-action reports and articles pulled from tabloids and newsrooms. In one of the windows, gun-side camera footage scrolled over a man sprawled out on the ground above a puddle of blood: a red armband tightly wrapped around his left arm.
“We believe organized crime and the international network Red Halo may have an affiliation with your, ‘Faith’.” He remarked dryly, and slowly drew a pair of eyeglasses off the table to his ears. “Our assets in the intelligence and action divisions have workable information but, only half of the story -- this individual is, as we understand her, incredibly dangerous and a threat to just more than either yours or ours’ governments safety exclusively.”
An emblem of Apparatus COLSOG was juxtaposed over several of the journal entries and a news anchor silently debating the origins of the attack. Several unit designations scrolled down through a list of active and standby formations before one in particular strobed for a few moments. “Cooperation for the arrest and or elimination of this individual would, I believe, result in a much smoother and effective operation. The Apparatus will provide all the information it has about her operations on this side of the border, and we will stage a counter accordingly.”
01-31-2015, 10:15 PM
Ottoman
Stojanovic watched the various displays and took in their contents with a thoughtful visage and a silent voice. Their own intelligence forces inside of the Coalition had confirmed that the attempted attack that had taken place in their territory was tied to the same cell, and even the same leader, as that which had struck Kosterbrau. It was simply a matter of waiting until the Coalition either contacted them concerning the event, or released the information of the attack publicly - the latter had come before the former. Long had the Hegemony had dealings with the Red Halos, to Stojanovic they were much more unpleasant than in reality, but regardless of his naivety regarding the matter he was aware of a connection. "We are familiar with the Red Halos. The Lord-Emissary and Kaiser thought that it would be a gesture of good will to offer our complete cooperation in apprehending this terrorist, especially since according to our intelligence... she is headquartered in our own territory."
It was a matter of no small embarrassment, but it was something that really couldn't be helped from where he sat. With a slight bow of his head he looked to the table, to the reflection of the other man and the various displays of light that had been summoned. "She, if such things have genders, is also Erutin." The diplomat spoke simply. "And of course, in the spirit of good will and cooperation, what we have gathered is yours if you're willing to exchange data." The last thing that the Hegemony needed right now was the Coalition thinking that it had staged these attacks, either out of genuine hostility or as a false-flag to produce some sort of desired outcome. They weren't currently ready for a full-scale war on the Western Frontier - though they could be given a short time - and it was something that the Crown didn't wish to bother with at this moment. There were bigger issues, not that the Coalition diplomat across from Stojanovic would ever know of such things until it was much too late.
"Are there any specific questions or concerns that you might have regarding the matter that we might be able to answer?"
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Brody swung his arm out quickly, the cold glint of the AP-50 caught in the throbbing shine and pulsing lights as he found his target. The figure in front of him buckled as eight rounds suddenly burst through his chest, black streaks leaping into the prickling twilight and thumping tone as the agent sprang forward. The bouncer collapsed onto the floor as Brody k-vaulted over a table, spilling drinks and splashing two women with their vibrant cocktails. He brought the pistol back up, swinging it into another suited man as he gripped at Brody’s right arm and tried to sling him downward.
Before he even left the table the man could only mutter a short gasp before he emptied another five rounds from the automatic pistol into his stomach. His body slid, the Scatterran’s powerful form bringing the bouncer down underneath him to cushion his fall from the vault. He couldn’t hear screaming -- he hadn’t even heard the gunshots, the music was pounding so loudly.
His shoes slid neatly on either side of the bouncer’s own as the two dropped to the floor, Brody seated atop the man’s chest with his weapon aimed. His pistol cracked again and again, the automatic spraying nine or ten more rounds into the crowd before him: a man’s kneepcap burst onto a woman’s sleek dress, suddenly painting her leopard print a vivid red. Then the light’s switched again, everything was aglow in neon.
The next bouncer to approach him got the rest of his magazine in the face, as Brody rose up from his seated position and simply emptied the weapon into the lumbering Oriyak in front of him. Blood streamed out from the man’s ears and nose as he fell back onto a scrawny figure leaning at a table, his focus on the women seated in front of him.
Brody wasn’t even able to hear his thoughts, music clouding any mental process he had. Stepping over the lifeless corpse, and noticing now that there were more than just the bouncers staring at him, he reached over to the figure. His hand gripped firmly about the man’s attire, a simple polo shirt that made him think of those shows the kids would watch when they wanted a “real” drug story.
This is Scatter …
Wide, frightened and confused eyes greeted him as Brody wheeled the man around. His weapon laid rested against his chest, packed tightly against his form to perhaps confuse any other security that might suddenly be coming to avenge their comrades.
Down in there somewhere, however, Brody knew he had found just who he was looking for.
Before he let the man make any remark Brody drew his hand up once more. This time, however, instead of a pistol slamming into the man’s chin it was a knife. A push-dagger conveniently hidden amongst Brody’s attire, wrist specifically, went plunging into the man’s neck. Brody felt bone and ligament tear, blood vessels rend and the man's throat split as he gave one, two, three good shoves.
The man bent backwards, hands flailing wildly and revealing the small handgun in his palm. It went off prematurely: as it was known for the little fish to do so easily. While he knew instantly the weapon fired nowhere near him, all he saw was one of the women’s head shoot back the instant the pistol shot. The black, sticky spray that came from the back of her skull only confirmed his suspicions.
Brody made sure to bury the dagger as deep as he could into the man’s neck, only ceasing to impale the man until after the weapon dropped from the narcos' hand. Then, as his reality came crashing back, he left the only survivor crying helplessly at the table with her hands folded atop her mouth in horror.