A steady rain begins to fall, soaking the perpetually saturated landscape surrounding the safehouse. Pellets of sleet bounce off the windows as the visibility narrows from kilometers to under 100 meters.

The silence of the early morning hour is broken by the sounds of shattering glass followed with a flash and a bang.

As the aluminum powder from the F-B dissipates in the house, Ayumi can see iron hinges on the heavy oak front door beginning to buckle.

A battering ram...at this hour???

It looks like whoever is on the other side is about three or four good whacks from breaking down the door. She trains her pistols on the entrance, ready to plug the first unlucky SOB that storms through.

As the siege precipitates, the F-B effects on the others are starting to fade.

(Edited by Dieter at 10:48 am on Oct. 21, 2003)

The door shivers on its hinges as it is repeated the struck with a heavy force. Plaster surrounding the door frame begins to crack as the thick wood begins to splinter under the impacts. A bead of anticipated sweat flows down Ayumi's brow as the immovable force prepares to meet the unstoppable object.

Seconds later, the house lights go out as the emergency halogens flicker on in their place. With one hand on his service pistol and the other dialing on his phone, Ian prepares for the inevitable.

"Bullocks! This whole operation has turned into Grade-A clusterfuck. Thames House is going to hear about this serious breach of internal security. (phone picks up) Yes, this is Cloverleaf. Greenfield 12 has been compromised..."

The door finally succumbs to its intruders, falling by the wayside as smoke grenades roll in...but not before Ayumi and Brian get their shots off.

Doing her best Mr. White impression, Ayumi unloads her pistols on anything moving by the door.

*blam* *blam* *blam* *blam* *blam* *blam*

As smoke billows out of the cannisters, the door-breacher slumps to one knee, dropping his battering ram and recoiling in the shock of multiple gunshot wounds...leaving a clear headshot of a silhouette behind the breacher for Brian.

Watch the birdie

The trigger is squeezed as the bullet travels down the rifled barrel and screams towards its target, going right between the eyes and out the back of the skull.

Jess draws down on the entrance, watching the man Brian plinked slump to the ground like a ragdoll as his counterpart writhes in agony beside him.

The scene (not counting the writhing man in the front yard) goes deathly quiet. Jess' phone rings.

About 5km away from the safehouse

The rain and fog made Artis' fast and furious commute from Glasgow into a stop-n-go traffic just outside of Edinburgh...this didn't stop the hot pursuit of the Scottish constabulary.

Officer Tony Parks was also sitting in the traffic, four cars behind Artis, his siren and lights blaring and flashing in futility.

"Mind me, Junior. Maddy as I am, I'll be chuffed when we finally tan this knobdobber, I'm gonna skelp the bastirt, give him two keekers, then throw him in the midden!"

Alright, weirdness level reaching the end of my scale. Time for another extension upwards - and I'm already up to 18.

Jess clicks the phone open, accepting the call - with Samantha's voice.

"Da ?"

Quote:

Quote: from Gatac on 6:17 pm on Oct. 24, 2003
Alright, weirdness level reaching the end of my scale. Time for another extension upwards - and I'm already up to 18.

Jess clicks the phone open, accepting the call - with Samantha's voice.

"Da ?"

Pozdravlyayu! Ochen rad chto u tebya vsyo khorosho. (Congratulations! I hope you are fine.[/i])

Catesby says, as Jess checks herself for injury.

"My apologies for this exercise, but you of all people understand that the game we play is a dangerous one. We had to test the waters. My men wait for you outside. Fear not. They will not harm you unless I give the order. I trust your people inside weren't harmed?"

Ian is very edgy as the conversation and disquietude continues, still posed in a over-tweaked attack stance.

"For God's sake, Jessica...What the hell is going on? Who are you talking to???"

Brian gets up from his crouch, moving closer to Jessica, hoping that, in the odd event that their cover has still been preserved, his presence can contribute to it.

And if not, so he can send another one of their mysterious attackers to an untimely..divine experience.

Jess winks at Ian, then shoots a short series of russian curses in his direction to shut him up.

"Gospascha Catesby, you are either quite ruthless or have an overabundance of personnel. In any event, I have ordered my accountant to transfer the agreed-upon sum to your organisation."

She does an audible smirk.

"I *will* have to deduct the cost of ammunition we wasted tonight, though."

"Of course. Please hold while we wait for completion of the transaction..."

Behind a computer terminal in an undisclosed location sits Harry, wildly hacking away at misappropriating the funds to Catesby's account.

I never get to fun stuff anymore.

With a few decryption/encryption commands and keystrokes, the transfer is complete. Catesby's PDA reflects the computer transaction.

[color=blue:fc09c653fd]£5000[/color]

"Spasibo. Pozhalujsta, Comrade Illingworth. You will be contacted again after the contract has been finalized."

The line goes dead as the sound of doors slamming shut and tires peeling out are heard outside the safehouse.

Stuck in traffic, Artis decides to phone-in to the Team and appraise them of his current situation...when he realizes he had left his Sat-Comm in the "OFF" position the whole time he was gone.

As soon as he turns it on, the LCD flashes:

[color=red:bd902a631d]ALERT! CODE RED. CALL-IN IMMEDIATELY![/color]

DOH!

(Edited by Dieter at 1:25 pm on Oct. 27, 2003)

"Well, that was fun."

"Indeed", Ian replies as he safeties his pistol and reholsters. He approaches the door and examines the leftovers laying on the safehouse's front entryway, kicking away his weapon then checking his vitals.

"Alright, (looking at Brian) you know the drill. Pattern sweep of the area, check for stragglers. (Glancing over to Ayumi and Carla) Let's get these two inside. Agent Hummingbird, I believe your matron skills are needed at this time."

*beepity beepity*

Artis makes sure "the filth" aren't closing in on him, and anxiously taps his fingers on the van's wheel.

Nightengale picks up on the other end.

"Agent Gossard, where the hell have you been? Five more minutes and I would have disavowed."

"My battery needed charging. I'm stuck in traffic, I got the vehicle, what's wrong?"

Nightengale sights then pauses for effect.

"It's good to hear you're still alive. Catesby and her men paid a visit to the safehouse while you were gone. The details are pending a full report, but I need you to get back there ASAP. Understood?"

"I'm on the sidewalk as we speak, sir."

Artis guns the van's engine and takes her down the sidewalk, leaning on the horn, the bobbies be damned.

Artis pulls onto the ajoining sidewalk leaving a trail of broken and battered pedestrians, wheelchairs, newstands, and yes...the ubiquitous fruit cart in his wake.

Still idling in traffic, Patrolman Tony Parks watches the scene of destruction and mayhem, only realizing after the fact that it is his quarry in action.

-Dad, the man's gettin' away.

-Away an bile yer heid, junior. He was playing hidie n' now hoaching up the whole way. That Bampot isnae gonna lose us! We've got 'em by his jauries now!

Tony throws the police cruiser into gear, veering towards the sidewalk...and right into the side of a public toilet.

-Dad...I think we're goosed!

-Haud yer wheesht, junior!

Carla keeps her ski mask on as she drags the unfortunates into the safehouse.

"That's a nice T-shirt ninja there, darlin'. I always get mixed up on the folds, myself."