Description: Judas Priest (1985). Two men with nothing else to live for but the one mission laid out in front of them. A dramatic situation with only one twist: the thing they're fighting for lacks honor or integrity. Instead, they risk their lives only to selfishly better themselves. But that begs the question: why is the betterment of self acceptable in peace, and yet not during war? Who makes that decision? Oftentimes it's the ones that have a stake in the matter. So why should those that have no stake play by those rules?
The days before a big mission are critical, but no more tense than any other day for Elle. She's done this enough, after all. The most anxiety producing portion is never the preparation. Each minute of the day could be used to develop a countermeasure every last contigency she could possibly face, but it's the time, not the task, the causes any level of concern to her.
Well, that and the fact that she's going into battle with two people she's never even dealt with before.
In the past, Elle knew the capacities of the people under her command like the back of her hand. All their skills and abilities were available to her without a moment's hesitation. She could tailor missions to their unique stations in life without fear of pushing them beyond their means and as a result enjoyed a considerable level of success.
But on this particular sortie, she's saddled with not one, but two relative neophytes. Maybe not to the mercenary business, but to the business of being a mercenary when surrounded by the spectacular. It was easy for a person to get blindsided and dazzled by the special abilities that fighters could set forth. Even easier to be overwhelmed by the incredible fighting prowess that some people seemed to be able to aim at opposition. But reliance on that power held nothing against a team of people trained and ready to do whatever it takes to bring them down.
And it's that organization Elle no longer had. But she could make do with what was available, and hopefully that would be enough to get by.
It remained to be seen if the people that she had hired could survive not just in the business, but working with Elle. She's demanding, expects results, and puts people through their paces not by endless training, but by actual live fire. Training is done on your own time, and if you're not ready for the assignments, then you pretty much pay for it while neck deep in trouble. Elle will do what she can to pull you out... but only to the extent where she feels that it's worth her while to.
And so today, she determines exactly how much worth that while is.
Chinatown has not escaped the ravages of war. However, the ramshackle, disorganized mess that Chinatown has always been has allowed the place to continue functioning even in a time of crisis. There are people that understand that come war, famine, plague or death, there's one thing that trumps all of it. If there are people, there is commerce, and commerce needs to happen. And that's why there's still one fixer bar left in the back alley behind a ruined storefront.
The air is think with the stench of rot and decay from outside only barely overshadowed by the burning of incense and the sticky-sweet smell of drinks spilled on the floor and exotic cigarettes being smoked. She's called her two agents here for one sole purpose: informing them of their first assignment. And it's a doozy.
For someone so relatively young, Jayden is pretty jaded. He's seen the horrors of war--participated in creating some of them--and while he's not totally indifferent to the world, only mostly, he can't help but admire the extent to which the city's been ravaged by this war.
Oh, it'll survive, for sure--cities are hard things to kill outright, like cockroaches. Flattening a city is best done in one fell swoop, and if the whole thing isn't eradicated, it'll come back. Sometimes, even if. Elle still has questions about his reliability--that's fine. They've just barely met, only fought a couple rounds really. She's tough, strong, and vicious--the kind of person Jayden gets along with, really. No-nonsense and dedicated to the mission, whatever the mission is. He may not be particularly fond of authority figures (nor they him), but he knows a good commander when he sees one, and he sees one in Elle.
Despite his attitude, he -does- devote time to an intense training and PT regimen--after all, his body is his weapon, and alla soldiers are trained to maintain their weapons in 100% shape.
Chinatown sure seems to be a lively place, even during the war, maybe even more so because of it. These people, somewhat insulated from the 'horrors' by their very nature, continue to thrive--already he sees cooks in dirty white coats, out betting on a cockfight in an alley during their break, fashion-conscious young women trolling for 'boyfriends'... he shakes his head. Surely one or two have caught his eye, but he -is- here on a mission. Locating that alleyway, he strides down it--confident but alert. Never know what'll happen in a place like this, after all.
Francois has been in enough warzones to recognize the atmosphere. Life becomes cheap in a warzone. When so many people had died for so little, it meant that even walking to the store was something that could be paid for with your life. In that kind of world, the people willing to keep selling were often two things. Crazy, and rich.
In truth, he's not entirely convinced that -anything- he could be asked to go up against would be more stressful than the trial he had thrown himself into to gain Elle's approval. At least if he wound up fighting schoolgirls powered by demon-possessed chipmunks, he'd be /fighting/ them, and not stuck in a metal coffin hurtling to uncertain death at a hundred miles an hour. He liked to think he knew where he stood in a fight.
He also likes to think he knows where he stands in a bar! Contributing his own foul-smelling, home-rolled cigarette ash to the mess on the floor, he makes his way over to Elle, when he spots her in the hell-hole, a glass of bourbon in his free hand.
"Ah, boss! The sights, the smells, I could not ask for a better place to be, no?" He grins, apparently in pretty high spirits. Why not? /He/ had survived the journey to the bar, he was going to enjoy his drink, and find out what it was he needed to do to keep the money coming into his pocket. So far, it'd proved far more than generous, especially considering the amount of work he'd done to earn it.
Well, at least they showed up. That was definitely a plus. Elle's had her share of people who thought that working with her was essentially a free ride. Affiliation with her is a bit more than that, after all. Mission ready and willing are the two musts, and both individuals seem at leasy marginally interested in what's going on.
That being the case, Elle nods, waving the two over, wholly unaware that the men have met before. Her table's in the back of the bar, away from ears and eyes, and she has nothing in her hands but a glass of something clear. While the atmosphere would suggest something powerful like vodka, anyone that knows Elle to any extent knows that it's likely water. Elle's divested herself of many vices. The only one she seems to be unable to shake is her penchant for junk food, and that's only because she rarely has the time or the inclination to enjoy a real meal.
She lets them get adjusted to the place, to the chairs. Launching directly into the job is usually her preference, but these people are new, and she's going to be asking for a lot. Still, she's silent for the most part until she sees that they've settled into their chairs at the very least before speaking.
"I have work. Who here's trained in urban warfare, particularly infiltration enemy installations? Because we're going to be doing just that, plus espionage," Elle says flatly with all the verve of someone asking if anyone knows where the nearest gas station is. "Job's on normal base salary plus the hazard pay kick. The retrieval part of the mission isn't subject to the salvage percentage. To make up for that, if you can pick it up and carry it out and not die, it's yours. But right now's your chance to back out. Ball's in your court boys."
Jayden stiffens when he hears Francois approach. Almost naturally, he'd tucked himself into a darker corner--when the Frenchy appears... he's seized, for a moment, by the irrational urge to punch Francois's face in. The moment passes, however--that fight was just diversion, nothing more. What that means, is, really, he'll settle things with Francois on his own time.
Jayden glances at Francois, then Elle, then grins, his lips quirking up in a sardonic expression. "Chere," he intones, nodding to Francois. Grabbing his chair, he flips it around, straddling it as he sits down; he doesn't betray anything else about knowing Francois. Listening to Elle talk, Jayden's grin becomes less sardonic and more anticipatory. "You jus' described m' fortitude, there, Elle," he says. "Special trained in infil, guerilla warfare, an' exfile, me. Get in, get done, get out." Of course, those are pretty boastful words--but Jayden's pretty confident. Besides, it's not as if he'd be doing it -alone-. In the context of working with a group, he's confident as hell.
"Got any more information?" His way of saying, 'the hell you think I'm gonna back out'. He's faced bad odds and strange odds, and he isn't gonna worry about what might happen. That's just the best way to be unprepared for what -does- happen.
Francois tends to bring out the worst in people. It's a gift. If, though, he bears any ill-will towards Jayden, he certainly doesn't show it. He'd gotten his point across well enough in the fight. Even if he wasn't quite certain -why- they'd been fighting. He might not like the man, but, there was no reason to start anything. Especially with Elle -right there-.
When asked, he puts his drink down, and raises his hand, his smirk completely failing to die. He gives a little nod, letting Jayden say his piece before he speaks up.
"I can do that." He replies, easily. "And I'm not going home." For the first time, he turns his attention to Jayden, and his eye seeks out the larger mans. "The Enfant Terrible and the little dog working side by side... should be fun!" He says, taking a long drag from his cigarette. "Besides. You've paid for my time, and although it has been fun seeing the sights in this wonderful city, I did not come here for a vacation, no?"
That, really, is that. Francois isn't stupid. He knows that there's a pretty good chance Jayden isn't going to live and let live after the fight... but, really, so long as he didn't decide to take it up with him in the middle of the job, Francois could not care less.
That's settled, and it makes like a hell of a lot easier. Elle nods to Jayden on his inquiry. "We're going to be knocking over a NESTS facility located in the park district," she indicates, "And I frankly don't have a lot of intel on that. What I need is people that can act under fire and get me from point A to point B while I do recon work, and then help me cook the place off like a kid juggling nitroglycerine in a fireworks factory during an earthquake."
Although she knows nothing of it, Elle would be appreciative of the restraint that the two are holding. Her empathic abilities are nil, but she can read body language mechanically. There's a tension there, but Elle can't tell why. In all due honesty, she doesn't care, either. Both men seem smart and disciplined enough to keep their conflict under wraps.
Which is promising, since personality problems ran rampant with the last bunch she worked with. At least in this case it looks like these individuals can set aside whatever dementia that they have for a mission, which is quite frankly a relief that, if Elle knew them better, she'd probably share.
"So let's get specific. Gumbo here says this is his forte. That means you get to take point and lead the way in, eyes peeled, head on shoulders, feet on ground," she says, looking the creole commando in the eyes as if to confirm the fact that she wants Jayden as stable as humanly possible before turning to Francois. "Descartes here will bring up the rear, What I want you in charge of is earmarking things to take on our way out, because we're not going to have time to go shoppong once the charges are set."
Charges? Oh right, those pesky things. "Each of us will carry satchel charges, three each. That's about thirty pounds of explosives apiece. The bombs are idiot proof. I'll show you how they work before we go in, but it's essentially as easy as pushing a button." And she pauses, looking at them both to let that sink in before asking, "Any questions so far?"
Francois gets no reaction at all for his little dig. Jayden's already putting it aside. Later. He sits forward, posture indicating interest, attention. "NESTS facility. Alright. We can do that." Funny enough, when he gets to serious business-talking, that Cajun yat mostly disappears. It's still there, just very backgrounded. Not a lot of information... "So, we'll be winging it?" He looks slightly sour at that. The most variables... but Elle knows that, probably. Nothing she can do about it.
"Expected opposition levels? I do know some demo, but if it's anything tricky you might want to have someone who has serious demolitions experience on hand." He thinks for a moment, then says, "Is there any external surveil? Can we drive by with a camera? Anything of the sort? I'll get you where you're going, but I -don't- want to waste time figuring the layout if we can. Assuming this is a base of theirs, they're going to have at least some serious opfor. I don't worry about thugs with guns and neither should you, but they would be crazy not to have heavier-hitting reserves in store. Soldiers are good but it takes a lot of them to equal a man who is -trained-."
Jayden meets Elle's gaze and he's entirely serious and somber, focused on the mission at hand--planning for the mission to come.
Francois seems pretty relaxed, by contrast. Leaning back in his chair with his drink, he sips it, and lets Jayden talk. Francois isn't the best infiltrator around. Better to let the guy who actually knows what he's talking about do the talking. When he finishes, however, the frenchman does indeed have some questions, and he leans back forward to ask them.
"I can do that easily enough." He says, although, in private, he's amused that the man with one eye is the team 'spotter' as it were. He could do the job... if he knew what to look for. And that's the rub, really.
"Is there anything specific we're after? I can keep an eye out for things that look valuable but, I'm not a scientist. I'd hate to pick something that looks expensive, and find out we've made off with their latest microwave, because the real gems look like paperweights."
He shrugs a little. "Not, I suspect, that it'll come to that... these people are pretty advanced, I imagine you'd find a buyer for the microwave if I did mess up, but it would be useful to have an idea before we go in, eh?"
If Elle had all the information, she'd only need one other person for the job. As it is, the mission is extremely dangerous. Elle doesn't like the excessive amount of variable any more than anyone else does. But unfortunately, sometimes that's how these things work. You go in blind with only concepts. These are the missions that have the highest payoffs the worse they get.
But they can end in the worst disasters, too. And that has Elle wondering if this can really be pulled off. Ideally, she'd want one more person to be keeping in line. But between that and wishing she had a pony, she'd likely get the pony first.
"Automated defenses, shock troops. Maybe someone with a name," Elle indicates to Jayden on his question. "I'm expecting opposition all the way. Probably not enough to kill anyone, but it'll be enough to slow us down long enough for anybody with real power showing up in the later game to cause us some serious trouble." It's how these facilities operate, after all.
As for the questions about the layout? A little harder. "Nobody's been able to get close to that area on foot. Luckily, I have some news tape that might cover your needs. I'll make sure you get a copy." While Elle and most others have no access to aircraft, there's no shortage of news helicopters and people with high powered cameras capable of at least getting good external shots of the location.
Now for Francois. While the physical act of perception is indeed hampered by the lack of an eye, the quality of being perceptive is not. The man seems to have an instinct that allows him to absorb information quickly and react accordingly.
Besides, Jayden will have his hands full keeping everyone alive, and Elle will be making sure that charges are set and areas are accessed. Nobody else has the time to do it. "Files, computer access terminals, any prepackaged laboratory samples, someone's leftover flash drive... we're picking up intelligence, not appliances. Make it small and portable. Nothing to weigh us down on retreat. I have the primary objective already in mind... so you're just brining up on the rear to make sure that we come out with alittle extra."
Jayden nods at Elle's answer. It's pretty much what he expected, after all--'Standard Operating Procedure', or so the term goes. "Appreciated," he says, his eyes unfocusing slightly as he thinks through rough contingencies. He might have to bring along some of his own materiel for this...
"I'll look the materials over as soon as you have them to me," he says. The enormity of the mission -is- starting to sink in, but it isn't scary--imposing, but not scary.
At last, though, he looks over at Francois, for a moment. "Sure you're up for this, petit chien?" A sign, maybe, that he's not thinking about the mission for a moment, the little, digging comment made almost out of hand. It seems as though Francois has the 'acquisitions' role in this mission, which is something that can be made almost automatic.
He turns serious again, thinking about what he's going to be doing, what's going to need to be done. Without a serious layout... Well, perhaps things will be clearly labeled, such as the power plant, or any munitions depots. Otherwise... "Hopefully we can find a computer terminal that isn't too heavily locked down. A few minutes of searching there will eliminate a whole heap of trouble later..."
Francois gives a slight nod to Elle. "Of course." He says, simply. That's all he needs to know. He can find files and records and all of that easily enough. He didn't need to know specifics, and really, he suspected, his role was swiftly going to become 'additional meatshield' more than it was going to be anything else. Which is perfectly fine by him. That is what he's good at, and additional bodies on your side so rarely go unappreciated.
He does snort at Jayden's little dig, though, and leans forward to stub out his cigarette, "Don't worry about me, mon cher, you play your part and I'll play mine, and when we are done, perhaps, we will all be breathing at the end of the day."
In truth, Francois was, perhaps, being a little -too- confident about how this was going to pan out. Going in with poor intel, towards a greatly superior force, well, that was part and parcel of being in the French Foreign Legion, and thus had played a major role in most of his life to date. The difference here, is that the camaraderie is a little less, but the pay is vastly more. A fair trade-off in Francois's mind, and more than enough to ensure he feels genuinely good about how it's going. So long as he came out with all his limbs attached and his paycheck still valid, it was all going to be worth it in the end.
Elle's not totally without her resources. There are other factors here. However, all of that is on a strictly confidential level. What they need to know is the bare basics, which is what Elle shifts to next. "Don't worry: our part is through a three prong assault that's been orchestrated. There's two other invasion forces, but they're primarily cover fire for the main objective. They're mostly 'resistance' force members, plus a few extra interested parties here and there," she informs, her tone lowering slightly. The last thing people need to start putting together is exactly how well connected Elle can be when she wants to be.
"That means we're drawing off the fire with three larger forces. In addition, I've taken the liberty of collecting some NESTS trooper uniforms. Between that and the chaos that'll be all over the place, we should manage to get in without too much trouble. The problem is that it won't hold up for any extended period of time. We're going to see action, we're going to respond, and there's pretty much a 100% chance that people are going to end up dead."
"It's you guys' responsiblity," Elle intones, "To make sure that the dead people aren't us." She finally takes a sip of whatever it is in the cup, though her eyes never leave the two soldiers of fortune in front of her. "This is a big score, boys. This isn't nickle and dime shit. I have a big contract that gets filled if we pull this off without a hilt. That'll be more valuable than any one payoff in the long run."
The glass comes down with a thump. "What that means, more importantly to you, is that if we pull this off, I can offer you better, longer term contracts with me. So if you actually want jobs in this business that don't involve getting on your knees while some overblown jackhole jerks off in your face and demands that you tell him it tastes like ice cream, you had damn well do a good job here."
An eyebrow raises. "Am I making myself clear, here?"
Jayden leans back in his chair. Almost looks like a casual pose, but it's more of a tension-releasing thing, with the way he's grabbing the seatback that's in front of him; he stretches, loosening muscles in his back. "Don't think either of us have any interest in dying, Elle." A quick glance at Francois to confirm, but he's pretty sure the man is not suicidal.
He delivers his employer an -almost- scornful look, leaning forward, the feet of his chair scraping along the floor.
"We -are- professionals, Elle." Yes, he is including Francois in this, for some godforsaken reason. Solidarity, perhaps? "I know, you think we're green, but we're not wholly creen. We ain't gonna burn ya. You'll get all we got an' more. That's how we work." Guessing, perhaps, about Francois, but...
"T'ink we don' want the jobs? 'course we do. Wouldn't've come to you if we didn't. So you can damn well expect our best."
Francois can't help but smile, genuinely, as Jayden leaps to his defense. There was just something funny about that, even if the frenchman couldn't -quite- put his finger on it. He does nod along with the little speech, though, and, at the end of it, straightens up a bit. The smile fading as quickly as it had come. Money was being discussed now, and money is no laughing matter.
"Work today so we can work better tomorrow, eh? ... Well, I can respect that." He knocks back the rest of his drink in one, utterly serious all of a sudden.
"Mon cher, I give you my word, you have paid for me to do my best, and that is what I will give. I will make sure that we all get out of there in one piece, if I have to walk into hell and drag you out of there myself."
Then, he is fishing for another cigarette, and grinning. "You too, 'Gumbo'. No, if we screw up... well, it is because we are in over our heads. But, at the least, with a little luck and a lot of skill, we should be able to keep them."
Words are words, and Elle doesn't truck by them for the most part. Still, the level of concentration and drive are there. People Elle liked to work with aren't men motivated by duty to God or country, creed or concept. They're motivated by the desire to be better off tomorrow than they are today. It doesn't have to be money. The honing of skill, the increase of power, the extension of a network. All that is just a means to expanding a person's power base. The capacity to grow, and the drive to grow without needing to have their hand held through it. That's the quality Elle looks for.
And promises are given. Not loyalty, but promises. Loyalty comes with time, patience, and demonstration that Elle delivers on her promises, so she doesn't expect that now. But in the future, who can say?
She looks at both men carefully, tipping her glasses down so that they're not obscured by the darkness of the lenses in front of her. "I'll tell you the truth. I /expect/ to win this. I /expect/ to walk away from this with all the goals met. Whether or not it's your best or your worse doesn't really matter to me in the slightest. When shit goes to pot, and it always does, I /expect/ that we'll all operate in accordance. Intelligence, job integrity, and flexibility are par for the course. As of right now, between the two of you, I've seen two of those. I'll take your promises at face value. Just make sure you back them up when the bullets are flying."
Now that everyone's in? She takes another sip, takes a deep breath, and speaks. "So, that being said, if you have any other non-mission related questions, now's the time to ask them. I don't chit-chat or waste breath when a poorly timed hiccup could kill us all. So if there's something you want to tell me, any personality issues you have, hookups you want to preserve, people you care about that I might conceiveably have to murder in their sleep, now's the time to let me know." Elle doesn't quite relax, but the subtle tone of intensity is gone from her voice. She sounds less abrasive and pushy than before, and is instead about as close to content with what she's received as she's been in a long time.
Things are slowly coming together. People are stepping in line, and the control is returning. And that makes Elle about as close to happy as she ever gets.
Loyalty -does- come with time, it's true. Jayden's pretty careful about his loyalty, in both ways--he's had it smeared before, so he'll be careful about giving it--or taking it away. He pushes up off his chair, swinging his right leg back and twisting so he can spin the chair around to slide it back into place.
"Den, we'll just have t' meet your expectations, Elle." Of course, that isn't a promise either. Promises, in this business, can come back to bite one in the ass. Danger? Most definitely. Jayden expects to come away with bruises or more. But as long as he's alive, that's good enough.
"I think we understand each other, Elle." Obviously, he's getting up to leave, though he hasn't said where he's going. "We've got a lot ahead of us. Best to think on it some while we've time." Tipping an imaginary hat, he turns to head for the exit.
Francois, by contrast, is in no hurry to leave. They had actual alcohol here. Alcohol! For sale! It's a wonderful thing, and he fully intended to take advantage of it until he could do so no longer.
With a little nod of his head to Jayden, the man ponders Elle for a moment. On the one hand, he still knew next to nothing about what -actually- made Elle tick. On the other. Knowing people made it more difficult to deal with them suddenly dying, and, though he had been very impressed with what he'd seen... he had no idea what he was getting into, really. So, perhaps it was better to wait until all parties concerned were certain that they were going to continue the partnership, and that they weren't going to die in the next week, before he made any effort to learn.
"I think, we are all fine at the moment, boss. Now... there -is- one question."
There's a cheeky grin, this time. "Perhaps you would like me to buy you a drink?"
Log created on 12:24:26 05/16/2009 by Elle, and last modified on 23:23:41 05/16/2009.