Meth and Monsters (Language)

Summary:
June 15 2014: Aspect and Partisan begin targeting the 'secondary networks' that enable their foes to extend their influence. First up, an independent meth lab loosely affiliated with organized crime.

Office Building, Upper Manhattan Island

A nice, nondescript office building in a rather boring commercial zone in Upper Manhattan island. It's the sort of place one drives through quickly unless one works there, simply because there is nothing interesting here


Characters

NPCs

  • Meth Lab Workers
  • Meth Lab Werewolf?

Mood Music:
[*]


It's a nice building, if nondescript. A four story office building in Uptown Manhattan. It's also a meth lab. They don't even make these like they used to anymore. A small time group connected to the Silver Syndicate - pretentious name for a bunch of drug and gun runners - owns the whole thing. They blend well. They're well dressed, they keep normal hours. The building is secured with cameras, electronic locks, a fairly sophisticated alarm system and of course, a fence.

As per their new arrangement, Jericho is actually several miles away. Window shopping and scouting out some place good to eat. In this case, a cafe with a wonderful club sandwich. He's also running tech support. Eye in the sky for Partisan and available to counter any digital threats to her op. "Right then Parti. Need the run down again? Labs are on the third and fourth floors. Targets will be mostly there. The place is part of the way Hydra moves money when they need to. Sadly not part of the primary network but every node we knock out in their secondary reduces their options. The occupants will probably be armed. Handguns and suppressed subs, I'd expect. They'll be more apt to bug out than engage in an extended firefight. Let me know what you need on the electronic end."

*

There's a shift of her shoulders as she cinches that backpack down, before grabbing her rifle from the trunk of that BMW. "Run a one minute delay on the security cameras,freeze frame when I'm going to work in frame and continue once I exit the frame. Monitor their phone network closely, and be prepared to cut the power on my signal." Down comes that gas mask with a soft sigh of familiarity. The kit is all new, really, all of it. From those dull grey fatigues to that ultra lightweight bump helmet, even her arms of course.

The rifle is the important factor here though, a light weight 16" Surgeon action and barrel with a lightweight stock and no end to the custom work involved in silencing the hammer and firing pin. Hand trued and tailor made for the truly dead silent work a city provides.

Quietly she rolls that bolt forward to load the stick up, before creeping up onto the roof of her BMW and making it across the fence in a single hop. She touches down as silent as a shadow, before smoothly easing back into the darkness to eyeball the lone guard standing infront of the back entrance. A gloved hand delicately touching her throat to key up that mic. "Danger close, not alone. Confirm vid feed is controlled."

*

Digital feeds flow by Jericho, invisible to everyone else on the cafe patio. "I own every feed within a block in any direction. You're clear to breach." He pauses turning slightly in his seat to manipulate another part of the grid. "Power on standby. Phone traffic… tapped. Nothing unusual yet. Police and emergency bands clear." He pauses. "Though there is a scheduled patrol in your area in five minutes. Work fast, Parti."

The guard is armed with a nine mil. Nothing too ostentatious. That wouldn't do. He looks pretty bored. This is a nice neighborhood. That's the point.

*

There's a soft sigh, as she thumbs those scope covers off and draws the rifle up to her shoulder. Pausing just a moment, before -clink-. That's all the noise the rifle makes, just a soft pat of the hammer against the firing pin really. Downrange the result is immediate of course, as a hundred sixty eight grain round rocks through the poor guard's eye socket. Immediately she strokes that bolt back, working the knob with her thumb as she grabs the empty casing with her middle and forefinger. Then nudging the bolt back closed and stalking foreward, stuffing that casing in a neat little dump pouch. "Domed."Is her only immediate report.

She slips across the open space, before grasping the guard by his collar and dragging him up to the door. She swipes the man's ID card, before tugging him through the door. The emptied receptionist's desk serves to hide the man's fallen form from plain sight for the moment, before moving towards the staircase. "Third story, oscar mike."

*

"Roger that. Switching feeds." He pauses, watching as Partisan moves through the stairwell and then switches the feed. "Eight occupants on the third floor. Two suppressed Uzi's and a bunch of handguns. One 12 gauge with magnum slugs. Lots of flammable lab equipment. Two closest to the door will be on your left. Snag their books from the right corner office if you can. I'd be curious to see where this money trail goes."

The poor meth making 'employees' have no idea anything is amiss. Not yet anyway.

*

Fun fact, Jungle boots come with a steel shank in the carcass. Jerk that out, and they become disturbingly flexible and thus silent. In that stairwell they carry Part upwards in utter silence, before she reaches back to doff her pack. She straps her rifle down one side, before tugging free a mason jar filled with dehydrated rice and a fragmentation grenade. She discards the pin, fills the jar with water and screws the cap down before delicately setting it in the middle of the doorway. Then out comes her kerambit in her left hand, and the VP9 in her right.

"Making entry."She delicately works that latch, before working the door open by fractions. That stubby suppressed pistol raised as she slithers through the gap and moves along the wall. There's a soft -fooosh- of that handgun, snapping the closest guard through the base of the skull. The moment warm gray matter splashes across his face, it's too late for the second guard. She's on him in a blur, grasping his collar in one hand as she -drives- that steel claw through his throat into his brain stem. Delicately lowering his suddenly limp floor to the ground. "Two down."

*

He looks like he's enjoying a soda. He's actually watching Parti work. Damn she's fast. He's really glad now they never squared off. Well, strike that, he's been really glad of that since he met her.

Inside the remaining six start to react. One runs to the opposite wall where there's a fire alarm. Tripping that will, in theory, summon the police and fire department in a hurry. The others raise their weapons, an Uzi and a set of pistols. Nine mil parabellum fills the air and those pistols are definitively not silenced. That might be heard upstairs.

"Two minutes in." Jericho reports in her ear. "You've got a pair working around your right near the fume hoods. They're going for that shotty."

*

Partisan dashes forward, switching to her more offensive kit as she baseball slides behind a sturdy desk. Out comes that MP9 from it's race holster, swinging up to plough rounds into the man going for the fire alarm. Empty casings tumbling free, but the first one hasn't even hit the deck before she can roll back and prone out to engage the two sweeping towards that shotgun. Dumping twenty more rounds in a single dump, which catches the first of the pair around the shoulder and throat and spills him into a pile. The second eats a round literally, but freezes at the injury only for a stream of suppressed subsonic 9mm to cave in his brain case. "Fuck, not sneaking anymore."

She sweeps that translucent mag into her dump pouch before smashing home a fresh 30rnd stick and dumping the bolt. "Come on you fucking amateurs, you wanna fucking go!"

*

It's with a clatter of glassware that the three remaining syndicate workers in the room knock over tables for cover. With any luck, they think, their fellows will summon the law and deal with this. They'd rather lose the lab than lose their lives. "911 call outbound from the next floor up." Jericho informs her. "And… killed. No more phones for these guys. Cell towers going dark as well. Standing by on building power on your signal." The gunshots must have alerted the fourth floor crew because a moment later he calls back. "Three men with shotguns coming down the stairwell opposite you, across the room. ETA ten seconds."

*

"Going explosive."Comes her instant reply, before whipping her trademark White phosphorus grenade against the opposite door. "Kill the power in three."Then a trio of those little golf ball RGN grenades with one pitch, thrown just sort've casually against those makeshift barricades. Each little sphere exploding instantly on contact, hurling tiny fragments all over the fucking place never mind the concussive power of three little explosives popping off in short order. By the time she rises over cover, that first grenade has finally popped. Showering bits of burning phosphorus everywhere, never mind the driving white smoke. Then there is of course the light, it's as bright as a welding rod and well it tends to cast either extreme shadow or blind the fuck out you.

*

The light burst scrambles the feed for a moment on Jericho's end too. "I think they're all down." He checks the stairwell camera. "Yeah… they're not getting up. Six more up top. They're getting ready to bug the hell out." Above her Partisan can certainly hear running feet as people hurry to shut down, grab crucial evidence and get out. "They're splitting up. Three down one stairwell, two down the other. Also, the room you're in is on fire. Give it five mikes before the smoke attracts attention."

*

The mason jar? Yeah see that's an old trick, and it's a fucking nasty one. The rice expands once in contact with the water, the process being sped up by a few trace chemicals which don't need to be named. This tensions the jar until it's spiderwebbed with cracks, the moment somone so much as stomps near it? That glass shatters, and the grenade rolls into the stairwell. Exploding the moment that spoon comes free, fucking F1 booby trap grenade!

Anyway, Part's got shit to do yo. Rather casually she moves to collect those documents, stuffing them into her bag before moving towards the window to simply shoot it out. "Where are the runners, give me targets."

*

"There's still one upstairs." Jericho says. "I have no idea what he's doing, but he ain't moving. There'll be two on your left passing by the door you came through in… ten… the other three are about half a flight behind them on the other stairwell. They'll make for their cars if they get to the bottom floor, I'm willing to bet." Sure enough Partisan can hear echoing footfalls, panicked and rapid, in both stairwells.

Partisan Shoots that window out rather casually, fire is sort've low on the freak-o-meter at this point in her life apparently. So instead she just kneels right there, flips the buttstock out and draws the red dot upwards. Streaking tight little 2-3 round groups into two guys as they do indeed make a break for their cars. Rather casually inching back just a tad, to wait for the other three. It's like shooting fish in a barrel. "Keep an eye on the solo act while I clean house, do you have eyes on him?"

*

"So far yes. He's mixing some chemicals. I've got no idea what he's on about." The other three come pounding down the stairwell, their panic obvious even to non-enhanced ears, let alone Partisan's. "Shit… that's not meth he's mixing. Standby, Partisan, running some analysis. I'd hurry if I were you, I get the feeling this is captal N not good." One fires blindly through the doorway with a nine mill pistol, the rapport echoing in the room.

*

Partisan sighs, wincing as the round goes way wide. "Proper sight picture first next time you fucking asshole!"She turns, up comes that neat Red dot and out go rounds. A full on proper magdump filling that stairway, before following it after with the last grenade in her chestrig. Thermite. Guy mixing random shit upstairs, dumbasses in the stairway with a thermite grenade/ Yeah she's done here. Sweeping her legs over the edge and falling three stories with a soft grunt. "Out, on my way out. Have documents."Granting the funeral pyre another glance, before making a dash for the fence.

*

"Parti didn't you say there was a viru-" Jericho's voice is drowned out by a snarl upstairs that shakes the building. "Shit. Okay. Fur. Claws. Lots of muscle. I make him at about twelve feet. He's moving your way. I'm killing the power when you clear the building. Fire department will probably be there in ten." Metal creaks and concrete shatters as something big behind her just slams a door open.

*

Partisan skids to a stop at Jericho's aborted word, yeah yeah she knows where that's going. "What in the -fuck- do you think you're doing you worthless cocksucking cuntnugget! "Huge and furry sure, intimidating well that's complicated. This is the motherfucking Partisan, she's been alpha wolf for like ever and she's got the fucking attitude to back it up. "You wanna play games do you, you wanna fucking go at me is that it?"

*

It's not at all clear that the thing coming at her has human intelligence anymore. But it's big. It's strong. And it's pissed. There's a snarl as it bears down on her, ripping a chunk of concrete wall support to hurl at her before it closes to claw range.

"Crap." Jericho can see this all quite clearly. "Check, please." He signals the waitress at the cafe. He may need to get down there to delay the fire response if this takes too long.

*

Partisan almost snarls herself, before she goes to work. She ignores the more typical targets perhaps, because well he'll heal it. No she falls back on that old law enforcement adage:"Pain, equals compliance." She dumps her MP9 from the hip, right at the wolf's crotch. "Sit'cher fuckin ass down you mangy piece of shit, who the fuck do you think you are coming out here like you're something to give a shit about?"Free hand reaching back to grasp the hilt of her blade before sweeping it out into the firelight. It's not a sword, and it isn't really a machete either. It's 16" of spring steel, with a ringed hilt on one side and a straight bar beyond it that's been brought to a -razor- fine chisel's edge. No stabbing point here, it's like the bastard child of a wood chisel and a golok for sure. "Back off motherfucker, or I'm gonna hurt your fuckin feelings."

*

Words the thing may not understand, but pain? Oh pain it gets quite well. Partisans well targeted attack and tirade buy her about two feet of space as the creature rocks back in shock and eyes her, nostrils flaring and clawed hands flexing. The look in its eyes still says it wants to rip her head off and spit down her neck, but it hasn't tried. Yet.

"Partisan, FD response in seven. I'll delay them as long as I can but you need to wrap that up." Jericho says. He's already moving through the grid as he moves through the city, shutting down fire department networks to slow their response.

*

Partisan isn't just hanging out, you know. No she's not going to be fucked with by some fucking amateur weekend pup, that blade comes up not down fast enough to -whistle- like a flute swung by one end. The blow is, well terrible. That blade bites in hard right behind the wolf's skull, and she immediately steps in to finish the job. Sweeping under those jaws to drive her boots against it's thighs, before her free hand grabs the spine of that blade and she -PULLLS-. Producing rapid convulsions, as she half cuts and half tears the fucker's head right the fuck off! "nnngh! Fuck your couch!" Hey pop culture reference!

*

Werewolf thing or not, this isn't exactly playing on Partisan's level, and it drops with a pitiful whine and expires on the spot as she messily eviscerates it. "All targets down." As if she needed to hear that. "The building's clear. That's one less meth operation to support subversive activities." However indirectly. Hey, support is support. And it's one less meth lab to fund criminal activities that also benefit the damned snakes. "Scratch one Silver Syndicate operation off the list. I'll do some digging and see where the hell that wolf came from."

*

She sweeps that blade a few times, before stuffing the blade away. "Silver Syndicate huh, gee what a Coincidence."Kicking the dead body just for good measure, before the Partisan coolly moves back towards her getaway beemer. "Come on you stupid git, the 5-0 will be here soon."She clears the fence with little trouble, before grumbling about all the blood. "Get in the car, the cops surely won't be far behind the fire trucks."

*

Jericho swoops down from the rooftop he'd just arrived at. He hadn't been that far away after all, just a few miles. Quickly buckling up, he nods. "Right. Though man, we'll have to get the interior of the car cleaned, I suppose. One thing at a time though, I'm sure we can find the stuff we need back at the safe house." And with that he watches the scenery roll by as Partisan takes them quickly away from the now obviously smoking building. One down. Who knows how many to go.


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