Cut Off One Head (Language)

Summary:
June 04 2014: Hydra dies, when the Partisan goes to war. Hell will rain down from the skies, when the Partisan goes to war.

Upper Manhattan

A nice part of town, this place closes up at around five in the evening. This time of night its all but deserted. Which makes it perfect.


Characters

NPCs

  • Adison Meyers - reclusive investor
  • Private Security Mooks

Mood Music:
[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hj2vU2nr5Jw]


Quietly, she lifts her left arm to study the neat little photo she'd found after a few hours with google. Keeping the face fresh in her gaze, before sinking silently to her knees and waiting. Patiently waiting as still as a statue in the shadow of a dumpster, as she watches the street. Waiting calmly, for the trio of black escalades to drive past. Well drive past the mound of black trashbags that wasnt there a few hours ago anyway, right into her very own personal killbox.

The fucker's name, was Addison Meyers. Professional rich fuck, who ran this joint called Polyglobal. An arrogant asshole who liked to surround himself with ex-legionnaires and throw their borrowed weight around when anyone got on his nerves. Being an asshole, isn't what got the stupid fuck into this position though. No his associations did, which is actually sort've funny. It was an associate of hers, who clued her into -him-.

Anyway the Partisan waits, letting one hand fall to the detonator in her lap. It's twin balancing that pilfered RPO on her shoulder, she just needs that little convoy to get a little closer. Just one more block, and she can get back to work. Her work, the work she brought to the world. You could call her a terrorist, or a criminal, or a murderer but most just call her what she truly is. A Partisan.


The convoy is five black SUV's. Meyers is paranoid to a level that makes even conspiracy theorists look sane. He never lets himself get seen entering or leaving the vehicles and it's rumored that he gets into a different one every time to make targeting him that much harder. No one ever says directly, but it's been hinted that they're full spook-mobiles. Run flat tires, souped up engines, bullet proof doors and windows, the whole works. Some of those features aren't street legal in the US, let alone New York City, but having money buys many, many prvilages not afforded the everyman. It's waiting at a light. And then the light turns green.

Half a block away kneeling in an alley (roofs were too risky, there's an excellent chance the guard detial has NODs) is an associate of the Partisan. He'd initially been set up to provide her tech support offsite. He didn't want to get in her way, he said. But when she mentioned who the target was, he changed his mind. Had a personal interest in this one, he said and wanted to be there to gather any intel that might survive the firestorm. Knowing that Partisan - Parti he's started to call her, and privately when she's not around Parti Girl - wanted 'Propaganda material' from this hit, he's already assured that everything he sees is being recorded and as a bonus, every traffic cam, security cam and CCTV cam is, for the night, their exclusive film crew. He checks the safety on his new Kriss SMG. Someone had suggested that he do something about his kit. He seems to have taken that advice, at least, to heart.


You can make a hell of a bang with four pounds of C4, but alot've that energy gets wasted if you don't know what to do with it. The Partsian of course, knows what the fuck she's doing. Which is why it's been packed inside an eight inch drainpipe, with one end welded shut and the opposite end plugged with a slug of copper. As the first black Escalade swerves around that pile of garbage, the detonator pops and instantly the charge cooks off. That plug of copper gets fired out like a cannon ball, the cone shape reversing upon impact with the A pillar before penetrating the armored SUV's outer fender. The blast is terrific, throwing everything foreward of the firewall across the street in a shotgun of shrapnel and killing the four men inside. The rear of the SUV flips over onto it's side and slides to a halt, neatly blocking the street.

Every manual on protective detail work has the same advise for a situation like this, reverse back they way you came and flee. Which is where that RPO comes into things, ever seen what a thermobaric warhead does? It's a simple thing, really. Theres a flash as she lights it off, before the rocket screams over the pavement in a lazy spiral. Striking the rearmost SUV in the windshield, before it spills its contense. Atomizing a little over two kilos worth of fuel, before a simple explosive charge sets off the cloud a second later. The resulting pressure wave and fire, causes a localized high pressure zone which collapses, causing a violent vaccum. It's sufficient to spiderweb the windows of every SUV trapped in the killbox, kill some unfortunate souls close enough to the detonation outright and cause the EFI systems in every single caddy to flip the fuck out and stall.

Casually, she dumps the RPO over her shoulder before she begins the second phase of her assault. AKSU swinging up to her shoulder, as her free hand tosses out a single white phosphrus grenade in the middle of the mess. "Come on you tryhard motherfuckers, lets fucking go!" Out she comes, advancing on the remaining three SUVs quite rapidly.


All the doors fly open on the three remaining SUV's. The men inside all looked banged up and startled as hell, both at the violence of the assault and the fact that it's just one woman advancing on them. Disadvantage of travelling in cars? It's really hard to fit a credible longarm in an Escalde, at least, if you want everyone to have one. So it's MP5K's in evidence, and yes, NOD's. The guards cover behind armored doors and vehicles. The forth SUV back has an extra guard in it and two, plus a balding man in an Armani suit dump out of the far door and crouch, looking for a chance to make a run for it. A hail of 9mm parabellum arcs out from the cut off SMGs.

A bit up the street the Partisan's associate takes aim. WHUPWHUPWHUPWHUPWHUP .45 ACP at 1200 rounds a minute. Not a minigun, but more than enough to light up some armored car doors and make the people on the far side think twice about moving.


She drops a knee, dumping down into a baseball slide ending just past a massive junction box. Immediately, she goes to work. That little carbine starts cranking off rounds, and holy shit it just doesn't quit. Running full cyclic as she pours 7.62 AP downrange, switching targets without ever letting up the fire. Walking a dense string of fire from one man to the next, chewing them apart with a few rounds a piece like it's going out of style. Still the moment she lifts a hand from the carbine's foregrip to source a fresh magazine, a pair of 9mm rounds snake past the collar of her body armor with a dull -thwap- and a wet choking wheeze.

With blood pouring out've her neck and throat, she stands and gets her carbine back into the fight without missing a beat. "Come on you worthless fucking amatuers. Your getting beat by a girl you fucking pussies!"Dropping that carbine as she ducks back to reload a second time, pausing for only as long as it takes her to wing a frag into the opened doors of that nearest SUV. Then she's off again, coughing wetly behind her mask, as she breaks into a sprint along the sidewalk towards the back of the convoy.


9mm rounds smack into her armor and whine past her. They've dropped a full mag's worth from each of their guns into her by now. Under ordinary circumstances one has to think that it might be enough. The forward most un-wrecked SUV pops the hatch. Oh. It turns out you can get a longarm into an Escalade if you're willing to break it into a couple pieces. Two Styr AUG's, both with LMG barrels and Bipods take aim at the Partisan and open up. The fire from the middle SUV suddenly picks up as well. Looks like a classic setup for a leapfrog 'break from contact' maneuver.

A voice breaks in on Parti's radio. "They're trying to rabbit. Let me know if you need an opening." More Kriss fire pings off the armored doors on the opposite side as Partisan, all of it near where Meyers is hiding. The message is clear. "Run and you'll just die tired." Watching several video feeds Parti's associate raises an eyebrow. Those were killshots. Or at least, on a normal person they are.


There's a leap, as she rolls her body mid air. Her left hand swings wide from her chest rig, flinging a pair of white Phosphrus grenades skyward before she completes her little flip. Hitting the ground boots first, and getting right back into the thick of it as the grenades pop. The immediate effect is to shower anyone standing outside the convoy with burning chunks of phosphrus, which is somewhere way past napalm in the "Ow fuck" department. The secondary effect, is why she wears that gasmask of course. A caustic, choking smoke that shrouds the convoy in ultra dense sheets of white punctuated by the glow of burning phosphrus. Sure there are worse ways to die, but few of them can be thrown in a grenade format.

Her Gasmask, despite the little war raging down here has remained intact thankfully however so she moves amongst men struggling to breathe, and those currently burning to death. Dispatching any she comes across with a neat little burst to the head, before she approaches the only SUV thats closed up. Wincing as her neck stitches itself back together, albeit slowly. She gives just a momentary pause, before producing a pair of anti tank grenades from her chest rig. She slaps one against the B-pillar, before setting the other just below the driver side window. A pair of rings come clean with a little pop, before she turns and ducks to sheild herself from the blast.


Of the twenty one man guard detail only eight are left alive now. Click. BOOM. Make that five. The blown SUV catches fire. Seeing the moment going against them two of the guards move out while the other three attempt to bolt with Meyers. One of the approaching guards dumps a mag into Partisan from ten feet away. The other draws a knife and rushes her.

More .45 ACP rings out. Parti's associate wasn't kidding. The lead guard goes down and the remaining two haul Meyers around toward the wreckage of the burning SUV.


The Partisan is fast, but she isn't -that- fast. She eats rounds, and it's sufficient to make everything much worse. Her AK clatters to the ground, but up comes a SiG-P210 in a flash and with just six quick rounds she downs both of her attackers in a record two target mozambique. The fleeing guards get a few moments however, as she sinks to her knees with a groan. Blood pouring from the purge valve of that gasmask, with that much blood it'd seem she's got to go down right? Clumsily, she holsters that SiG and reaches blindly for her AKSU.

One.

Two..

Three…

Slowly, the woman rises to her boots with a grunt, Then up comes that AK, and she gets right back to work. Sending fifteen rounds a little low, aiming for Meyers legs. "Get back here you fucking cuntnuggety motherfucker! I'm not done killing you yet!"


Meyers goes down with a groan but his guard grabs him by the lapel and hauls him for one of the alleys. The other doubles back toward the woman who refuses to die. He only makes it half way, though before he takes three .45 rounds to the head. Pop. Squish.

"They've moved round the wreck!" Parti's associate calls out as he moves from cover, slapping a fresh magazine in.


She rolls her shoulders, pitching a Thermite grenade towards the convoy before she renews the enguagement. "Whooooo, run you fucking cowards. The big bad wolf is coming!"With Carbine raised, she sidesteps around the alleyway. Throwing a volley of suppressing fire down the alleyway at about shoulder height, before dipping her hand down to that SiG at her side. She's looking a little rough of course, her spare rifle mags are full of holes, her chest rig is a mixture of bullet holes and ominous dark stains. She's got blood smeared across the inside of that gasmask, and yet more of the stuff is still pouring from that purge valve. Even as the sticky red shit fills those jungle boots of hers.


An agonized cry rings out. The suppressing fire caught the last guard. The alley itself is shrouded in darkness but the MP5k comes clattering out of it right into the light. "He's down." Her associate confirms. "Meyers is crawling up that alley. I've got him on IR."


Partisan finally lifts a hand to her throat mic "Get your fucking ass over here, and bring a videocamera then." Walking slowly after the man, kicking the MP5 aside as she passes. Then slowly, she dips a gloved hand around his collar and hauls him up to his knees like he weighed nothing. "Remain still bitch, do exactly as your told and I won't geld you on camera."Circling around to cuff his hands in a pair of off the shelf industrial strength zipties.


The Partisan's associate walks over. Two rounds go into a guard who wasn't quite dead yet. He's got the camcorder in one hand and the kriss in the other. He approaches her, leather coat swaying in the breeze, cowl covering the lower half of his face. "Where do you want it?"

Partisan smirks "Just handhold it."Nestling the barrel of that SiG behind the man's ear. "State your name for the camera, how many guards did you have two minutes ago, and how many do you have now?"Click, goes the safety. "Don't play stupid, tell them what organization you belong to. It would be wise to remember, exactly how little tolerance for bullshit I have right now."


Adison Meyers is shaking. Parti's cameraman looks detached and markedly unsympathetic as he steps to the side and films. "My name… is Ad-Adison Meyers. I had twenty one guards two minutes ago. Now, you murdering psychopath, they're all dead. It doesn't matter what you do to me. Cut off one head and two more will take it's place." He fixes the Partisan's gas mask with a murderous stare. "Hail. Hydra." He grits in pain and hate.


She leans over, ripping open the man's shirt before slapping a sticky backed stencil on his chest and going over it with a mini-spraypaint can. Once done she pitches the can aside, and rips off the stencil to expose a wolf's skull. She lets Meyers squirm for a moment or two more, before putting one round behind his ear and letting him slump to the asphalt."Death to fascists."and then just as calm as you please she holsters that SiG and walks away. "Lets go, shall we? I need to get fucking laid."


Her companion chuckles and closes the camera. "Not sure what I expected to hear you say, but that wasn't quite it." He doesn't inquire into details. Before he turns to join her he kneels down and takes the cellphone out of Meyer's coat pocket and then eyes the wrecked and bullet riddled SUV's as he walks half a pace behind and to the left of the Partisan. "Where do you want the vid? Well vids. I think we got that from about twenty different angles."


"I'm the actor, not the editor. I trust in you to clean it up, and post it wherever it can be seen. The internet, times square, I don't give a fuck."And just like that off she goes. Coughing and hacking as she wanders on, lifting that snubby little AK to rest against her shoulder as she folds back into the night she came from. "Be safe, keep in touch. I need my targeting list updated regularly."


Shaking his head with a smile Jericho walks over to the wreckage of the SUV's to comb for some actionable intel… and anything to help on his personal project. "Yes ma'am." He says into the night, trusting that she heard. She is, after all, the Partisan.


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