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Breaking news: 17/1/13

Four people have been arrested in a daring at Paris Charles De-Gaul airport today raid by France's GIGN in a counter terrorist operation that has been months in planning. The Operation code named Golem was aimed at bringing down an organisation believed to trading in drugs and blood diamonds used to fund terrorist organisations across the world. The mercenaries who have not been named for legal reasons were ambushed just after their private jet landed from Sierra Leone where they had been visiting under the guise of charity workers.

Details are sketchy though it is suggested that the four may be working for a larger organisation.

Sierra Leone 4 update 23/1/13

The four mercenaries suspected of trafficking Drugs and conflict diamonds have appeared in court today at a preliminary hearing at the Parisian Cour du Assize. Speaking only to give their names the four were informed that their trial would be conducted at the Hague on offences of Crimes against humanity.

Sierra Leone 4 Update 31/1/13

The Sierra Leone 4 are to be transported to the Hague to await trial for crimes against humanity including the trafficking of conflict diamonds, arms dealing, and drug trafficking. No further details have been released and rumors that the four may be working for a larger organisation have been quashed.

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0. The initial rule that shouldn't even need to be a rule. This is a literate RP, therfore I want discriptive, Third person, paragraph minimum, novel style posts. Thats not asking too much now is it?

1. No Godmoding, Auto-hitting, Meta-gaming, or use of Deus Ex Machina to escape from scrapes that your character would be utterly obliterated in otherwise.

2. Characters will die, if your character ends up in a situation that they cant escape, then so be it. Just make another one, chalk it up, and then continue with the RP. No hard feelings

3. Be realistic with your characters, you are humans I don't want to see any Neko, demons and the like.

4. Your character is not the best, nor are they unbeatable, unstoppable, or infinitely intelligent. Again your character has strengths and weaknesses stick to them or I will be forced to Blacklist you, Ya feel me?

5. I need ya to PM your profiles to me. Any questions you have for me should also be PMed too. Just for ease and to keep the RP clean without all those unnecessary OOC posts.

6. So I don't ignore your PM completely when ya send it to me I need ya to title it "Deus Ex Machina" just so I don't think its spam and delete it.

7. This list is subject to change, if I gotta add something I will, If I gotta delete something I will. Check back here often just to make sure you don't mess up on any rules that I might add or delete now or later.

9. Now that I remember it, I do like to hear about your fights with as much description as possible. If ya get into a fight I want it just as discriptive as possible. Keeping on the same note, I will allow romance, but seeing as I don't wanna get reported I would like ya to keep it somewhat PG-13. If ya gotta get down and dirty then take it to PMs...AIM...whatever ya want or just skip over it. I just don't wanna see it here.

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Profiles are just a name a picture and a description of who you are and if you're famous enough for people to know who you are your profile will go up

Merc 1 Nick DeLaney
Merc 2
Merc 3
Merc 4
She flicked her cigarette moodily, her mouth twisting into something ugly. It was a disgrace. She was surrounded by incompetent fools. She leaned back in her leather swivel chair after crushing her cigarette. She steeled her fingers over the desk, glaring above them coldly. Would she have to do everything herself?

“Quit squirming Fabrice, it’s repulsive. “ The man froze instantly. He looked like a man about to get fired. She toyed with the thought, savouring it lazily. No. He could be useful still. “Leave, I will deal with you later.”

The man left, hurrying through the room as fast as he could while still walking. The young woman waited till he was gone to tilt her head to the left, watching an other man step out of the shadows. He looked in control. Cold. Professional.

She allowed herself a rare smile, standing from her seat and crossing the room. He fell in step two steps behind her, only stepping forwards to open the door.

“I trust you know where we are going, Leonard,” she said softly, raising a new cigarette to her lips when they stepped in the elevator. He presented her with a lighter as the doors slid closed behind them.

“The retrieval squad will be falling into action any moment now.”
“Are they aware of my instructions?”
“Bring the bodies, alive or dead.”

Again she smiled. Again, it was not a pretty sight, even though the woman in question was breath taking.
“Perfect. Bring out the Mazerati. I’m in the mood for Italian.”
There was a clunk and then a couple more thumps and bumps that the pilot must have presumed was a some turbulence and attempted to correct only to find that the aerilons were locked as was the rudder. Coming out of the cockpit he started explaining in french to the now somewhat annoyed GIGN commander overseeing the transfer that something large had appeared on radar and was now occluding their small jet to which the commander disagreed and poo pooed the problem. Until the plane Jolted savagly

The plane jolted Nick awake. He was still shackled hands and feet and dressed in a dark blue jump suit much like his "Co-conspiritors" though it had been noted by the judges in Paris that the others seemed to follow his lead not that he cared much, they did their job and they got paid no matter what. Leaning back in his seat as he watched the guards look about trying to work out what the pattering sounds on top and beneath the plane were he sucked on his lips pulling them in a little bracing himself for what was to come next. The Guards stood and moved into defensive positions in the plane two by the doors and two covering the prisoners although attempting to take a Jet in flight would have seemed insane to most.

Adjusting his position Nick moved into the closes thing he could to the brace position pulling his hands up to his head just reaching far enough for him to be able to plug his ears as even louder sounds took over from the jet and before anything could happen several of the planes window's exploded and flash bang grenades were tossed in by black clad men in climbing harneses rappelling down from a transport plane above. Keeping his head down Nick felt the boom of the flashbangs before the drop in pressure as the planes doors were blown clean off one ripping into the tail of the plane creating a large hole where there used to be aluminium and windows. The sudden gusts knocking a couple of the GIGN troops off their feet and plummeting to their deaths.

The rest were swiftly dispatched by four men wielding brand new top end sub machine guns that had been contracted to the German counter terrorism units the new soldiers moved through the plan quickly and cautiously unlocking the four prisoners and handing them parachutes and a small pack.Taking the lead Nick clambered to the back of the plane crossed his arms over his chest and let the gusts take him into the air. He was quickly followed by the other three. Descending he looked up to observe the remnants of the plane being dropped from a Hercules C-130 transport plane onto the France Belgium border before the plane banked and set off towards the North sea.

Fifteen minutes later the team were on the floor and setting off a GPS stripped out of hte parachute gear and into the Civvies they had all been provided Nick's being a somewhat unflattering woolen jumper with jeans and Doc Marten boots but at least he was now armed with a sig 22 tucked into his belt and didn't look like a prisoner.
“We just picked up a signal. They must have landed.”

Isabel shifted in her leather seat, changing gears and accelerating on the A23. Leonard looked relaxed enough for one who hated being in the passenger’s seat, but the miss loved driving her cars. Now was not the moment to tell her what to do.

She flicked a butting on her steering wheel. Her stereo silenced itself and the rowdy music was replaced by the sound of a phone ringing. Someone picked up.
“Target has landed. We have four packages. Awaiting orders.”

“Bag them. And kill the shortest one as an example. I want them to know I am not pleased. Then, report with the tree remaining at meeting point B23.”

Isabel hung up without waiting for an answer, pulling off the highway and entering the rural north of france. She entered a small road going through a thick forest, slowing down and entering smaller dusty roads, till finally, a large stone mansion loomed above them, completely hidden by the vegetation till the last second.
It had once been a small castle’s ruin, damaged by world war two and time. Now it was half made of iron and glass, half lime stone, sweat and blood. It pleased her to know peasants had died building what would later be one of her numerous homes.

****** Near Nick, too near*****

The communication shut off and the woman snapped the phone shut. She and her team were obviously military. Or at least they had been at some point. She was huddled up two miles away from the unsuspecting men who were foolish enough to believe they were saved. She had a sniper rifle snug against her shoulder, and was laying flat with a camo cover thrown over her back. Invisible.
She pressed her fingers against her throat, sub vocalising her orders so that only the men hidden all around their target would hear her.
“Bag their heads. The shortest one is my target. Cars incoming in 30 seconds. Now.”

It happened in a flash. The ground seemed to burst open all around them, five clumps of grass, dirt and other plants turning out to be trained soldiers wielding weapons. A duffel bag was shoved over their head, strings pulled so tightly they burned. A muffled impact. A cry of pain, undoubtedly the sound of a man dying. A gurgle. A sharp blow on the back of their skull. Unconsciousness.

The unconscious men were dragged in the car and the crowd drove away, clearing the zone, leaving only a corpse in their wake.
Nick woke up only to find himself black bagged and this time bound to a chair, wriggling a little he figured it was a wooden chair Grunting from beneath the bag he signaled that he was awake only to find his wakefulness a signal for whomever was nearby to tip him back over in the chair and into an ice bath. He went under quickly and with his hands tied behind his back struggled to resurface though he didn't thrash he lay there as calmly as a person could be in such a situation. He heard voices around him and suddenly felt a pair of large hands grip the fetching yet now icy cold woolen jumper and pull him out. Hitting the floor with a soggy thud Nick felt some of the wind rush out of his lung as he attempted to catch his breath again inside the hood. "You killed one of my people" he snarled from under the hood only to catch a steel capped boot into his ribs hard enough for him to hear an old fractured rib crack again hinting that it might be a time to shut up.
Isabel watched Leonard mess Nick up a bit before flicking her fingers out, signalling to leave him alone. She walked over and kicked him in the shoulder, forcing him to lie on his back.
She crouched next to him, and ripped the bag off his head. She smiled that horrible smile of hers. That smile that let people think she used baby bones to pick her teeth after each meal.

“What a surprise, Captain. I thought I’d told them to shoot the shortest one. Care to tell me why I should not drag you back to that basin and drown you with my bare hands?”
Nick looked up at Isabel from where he lay, "Nice to see you too" he retorted as he coughed up the last of the water from his lungs. "Are you implying I'mm short?" he added as he rolled himself upwards enabling himself to kneel before pushing himself upright to stand next to the French woman. "And you won't drag me back to that basin because you got what you wanted from the deal and that's all that matters to you" he paused for a second and looked her up and down before shuffling closer to her keeping his eyes on the goon who had cracked his rib before "And I told you that was a long time ago. Do I look like a captain now?" he asked mimicking the gesture he would have made up and down himself had his arms not been tied. "Did we have to go through all of this? just for you to slap us on the wrist for getting caught?" he asked.
“Getting caught, Captain?” she hissed, poking him where she knew his rib was broken. She took a certain pleasure twisting her finger a little, feeling out for the bone.
“You treat it as if it’s nothing. You failed, and you treat it so lightly? Where is your side of the bargain? You should be in prison as it is, getting ******** in the a** by a Russian thug named Ivan, getting used to gurgling his mayo to see the next day.”

She stepped back, walking away towards her hand bag and angrily digging a lighter and cig from it’s depths. “The only reason you’re here is because between sucking cocks, I fear your mouth would begin to talk. So you don’t give me much of a choice really.”

She dropped her lighter back in her handbag and pulled out a handgun, aiming it between his eyes. It was sleek, black, and had the well polished look and an object that was used often and care for extensively.

“Give me a reason not to kill you and make it convincing. Keep in mind I don’t give a ******** about the carpets, so I won’t think twice about pulling the trigger.”

Nick looked to the floor "They are very pretty carpets" he admitted before looking back up to the woman threatening him He began "Ivan would have stopped breathing before he got time to open his fly and also because" he paused for a moment waiting to see if the woman would pull the gun out of his face. "Because if you kill me who's going to do all your dirty work?" he asked somewhat teasingly "I've got more blood on my hands on your payroll that the most of Langley and Vauxhall cross put together. All on your buck" he waited for a moment, "I've toppled governments for you I've made sure people stayed in their place I've made sure that people have come to where you want them to be and nobody does that better than me" he retorted staring straight down the barrel. "Sure you've got the big lug over there but what's he good for other than baby sitting you does he do any real work?"

Nick writhed his hands behind his back until blood began to drip from his wrist pressing the wound up against his jeans he used his other hand to push a scalpel blade out from just below the skin and into between a couple of fingers behind his back as he spoke to Isabelle. Using the blade to cute the hemp bindings he relaxed his arms down to his side and bent down to untie his legs watching as Leonard came barreling over ready to stop him only to wind up with a number 10 blade scalpel through his hand followed by a blow to the inside of his right knee snapping his leg in a way it should not move giving Nick enough time to retrieve the blade from Leonard's flesh delivering one final foul steel booted kick to his head in repayment for the broken rib before turning back to Isabelle "I'm the only ******** in the world willing o do some of the jobs you want doing, now if you want them doing you'd better learn to play nice. He reached out and placed his hand on the weapon that was still pointed at him and directed it away towards a wall his pinky flicking on the safety. "and don't ever point a gun at me again"
Something grew warm in her chest, her stomach clenching a little, in a strange hunger she didn’t bother to analyse. All for her. Her money of course. But her. She felt like wrapping her fingers around his neck and whispering things in his ear. Like causing him pain and making him yield further. Maybe not only pain. Yes. He was hers. He did as she wanted. He killed for her, lived for her, would die for her.

But still, here he was, standing up against her.

She ground her teeth angrily. Granted. he was a passably good attack hound. But staring in his eyes as he took the liberty of pushing against her good will did a little more than get on her nerves. She had to make a conscious effort not to head but him in the face. Not out of respect, but because she figured he could take her easily.
She was not an expert, only especially good at causing pain. He on the other hand, was a bloody assassin, trained to eliminate and cause pain in a more professional manner than she. She was visceral about the pain causing. He was all calculations. But ironically, while she was all brain on her plans, he was all instinct and horrible, unreliable luck. And the ******** luck was always with him.
He was the brawn and she was the brain. She knew she’d eventually have to respect that.
She held his gaze steadily and tilted the gun, shaking her wrist while pressing the charger’s release button. It slid out smoothly and landed on his foot.
Isabelle smiled pleasantly. She’d respect him later. She hoped it had been painful. She chose to ignore how childish she was acting. She believed in what her father had taught her. Always let your guard dogs know you can hurt them, never let them see your back.
“Then you’d better have a good reason for failing me. If you’re turned useless, I’ve no reason to keep you around.”

Nick pressed the tip of his tongue to the roof of his mouth to stop himself breaking face and laughing when the magazine dropped out of Isa's gun and landed on his foot bouncing off and to the floor harmlessly, he knew she had done it intentionally and ignored it, besides she must have forgotten he wore steel capped boots as a matter of habit. Releasing her weapon he shook his head, "Insider," he commented as he looked the woman up and down, besides you got what you wanted and no one knows you're involved" He turned to walk away "Not one of mine" he added as he stood for a moment dripping ice water and a little bit of blood on the floor before stopping walking across to the somewhat injured bodyguard and reaching into his pocket. "Mind if I take these?" he asked as he pulled a box of cigarettes and a disposable lighter slipping one into his mouth and lighting it before pocketing the rest of the pack. He also took the man's phone and began to dial "Down side is now" he stated pacing a little on the floor, "I'm in need of a new team" he took a long draw on his cigarette and holding it between his lips reached to his nose and with an almighty crack straightened it out "And a new face" the phone continued to ring as he smoked. "Yeah Mike, I need you to do me a massive favor." He paused for a moment. "Remember what we talked about? I need you to liquify everything and then put it into the safe deposit box.............No not that one THE deposit box then I need a pick up from where?" he turned back to Isa and waited for an address.
She rolled her eyes at his antics and arched an eyebrow at him when he asked the address.
“If you think I’m letting you bring anyone here, you’re wrong,” she snapped, slightly annoyed.

Isabel was still angry, but snapped back into business mode. Things needed to be done, and she’d might as well do them. She pressed her fingers against her throat, activating the mico-comunication device hidden beneath a thin scrap of fake skin. “Paisley, let go of your sniper rifle. All’s clear. I have to go, but I want you to clear Leonard out of here. And the others to. They are all yours and need training badly. Meet back in 24 hours in Paris, M spot.”

The young woman turned away from Nick, seeing a red dot appear on the side of his skull for a brief second before vanishing. Paisley liked to make sure she knew she was operational. And prove her point. She smirked briefly before grabbing her bag.
“I’m your ride, Captain. Tell your little friend to drop off your stuff in the crypts beneath the Chapel Sacré Coeur. And tell him to pick a nice face for you while he’s at it. God knows yours could do with improvement.”

With that she walked away, smoke billowing in her wake while she picked her keys from her bag. “You stay here and get better Leonard. The Captain will be my guard till I find something with more brains and less tongue.” And then she was gone from the room.

She pressed a seemingly random spot against a wall in the next room and a massive book shelf popped open, revealing the passage to the garage.
"You hear that?" Nick asked to be met with an acknowledgment from Mike at the other end of the phone. "See you soon" Nick added before hanging up and tossing the phone back to the somewhat sorry excuse of a body guard. "Later Jules" he added as he walked off following Isa's trail of smoke. "So you're my ride?" he asked as he followed her into the secret back passage and down to the garage. "You're wanting to show your face in the middle of Paris with a man wanted by the UN for crimes against humanity?" he paused a moment, took out another one of the body guards cigarettes and lit a new one the old one having just been extinguished under his boot.
She bounded down the steps and down into a large cave where a few cars and motor bikes were scattered, light by halogen lights that wound round a bend, presumably towards the entrance of the cave.

Isabelle pressed on her car key, making to car blip one as it opened, and slid in the driver’s seat. She’d picked an Audi R8, sleek in black with heavily tinted windows. Less flashy than the red Mazerati she’d drove in previously.

The licence plate were official foreign embassy issued, so she was sure there would be no police control. She slid in the driver’s seat and ignited the motor after tying her seat belt, barely waiting for him to close the door before departing.
“Please tell e what happened. After you’re done, any questions you have to ask, ask them. We’re gonna ride for about two hours,” she added without a smile, slipping shades over her eyes as the burst out of the cave and into a dirt path. In a mater of minutes they were on a proper road.

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