The chase through the cramped city streets of Mestre begins with Artis gunning the Mustang and catching up with the wounded Ferrari pasta-rocket.

In sight of his prey, Artis jockeys the Ponycar in an effort to provide the now popped-up Carla with an optimum shot at the Ferrari. Steering around a pushcart and narrowly avoiding a group of hapless Norwegian tourists, the Mustang powerslides across the cobblestoned streets just as the Ferrari lays down an oilslick. The Mustang's controlled slide turns into a desperate attempt at averting a crash, Artis slamming down the brakes and turning into the skid, stopping just inches away from careening into a storefront.

Safe for now, Carla unleashes a parting burst, chewing up the Ferrari's rear-end. An acrid plume of blue smoke churns out of the Italian motorcar as it turns up another street and out of view.

Meanwhile...back in the park.

Jess sits down on nearby bench, admiring the solice of the post-gunfight silence. Not thinking about anything much other than perhaps a hot bubblebath and a long vacation, her brief respite is prompty disrupted by the ubiquitious chirp of her phone.

A woman's voice (with a heavy Russian accent) speaks,

You think this is the end. No, Agent Hummingbird...you have no idea what trouble you have caused myself and my organization.

Jess looks about her immediate surroundings, waiting for the other shoe to drop, when she spots a solitary figure silhouetted by the light from the opposite end of the tunnel overpass.

Jess raises the case to the bench and snaps it open, turned away from the figure.

"Au contraire, dear. Your amateurs are becoming something of a pain in the rear. I'm not even that good, and still you seem to have trouble keeping me down. You sure do try, and Kenji...well, I appreciate a cold bitch when I see one, but that doesn't mean I condone that. Perhaps we could meet sometime? I've been sharpening my fingernails for the occasion..."

The figure continues to walk through the tunnel, approaching Jess with a graceful gait, the bottom of its overcoat flowing in the cool night breeze.

Amateur Night...as you Americans say...is over.

Jess fixates herself on the character as it nears the tunnel's exit, also finding several red dots converging on her head and torso. A split-second later, commando-clad men (2 on either side of Jess) emerge from the foliage, their laser-designated weapons of choice in hand.

Jess contemplates going for the gun, but then thinks better. She stares at the two commandos and raises an eyebrow first, then her hands.

"Come to think of it, saying that did feel too good. Karma sucks, hm?"

I wouldn't know. I'm usually the one pointing the guns at the other.

The figure, now coming into full view and her voice within audible range, stows away her phone and closes the distance between herself and the passive agent. Jess immediately recognizes her as the one, the only...Samantha Illiavic.

"You are a hard person to track down, Agent. I commend you on your performance thusfar. I actually didn't even mind you doing it until you started having me implicated for things I have no desire to be part of. For that, you will die a very slow and painful death."

On her last word, the gunman shoot multiple projectiles at Jess, their sting more needle-like than bullet. Jess' vision begins to blur and lower motor functions rapidly grow torpid. Her limp knees buckle as Jess slumps to the ground, still fully conscious but unable to move her appendages.

Samantha and her men stand over Jess as the hardline Russian's voice becomes harder and harder to comprehend each and every seconds that goes by.

"Doooooo yoooou heeeeear meeeee? Yoooou ssshhhould beeee aaaa-ble tooooo mmmmm-outh theeee wo-ooooords if not al-soooooo sp-eeeeak themmmmm."

(OOC: Jess made her WIL save, she may speak if she wants to.)

Inside the Mercedes, Ayumi tries her best to commandeer the vehicle...which in her case means shanking the Russkie bastard through the seat cushion. She stabs violently, but it seems that all she impales is steel re-bar.

Many lengths back, Artis grumblingly throws the Mustang into gear and again heads after the fleeing Ferrari. He spots it a few streets ahead, limping along on its runflat tires. Seeing his chance; Artis accelerates right for the pastarocket executing a pit manuever, sending the Ferrari into a hard spin and right into a fishmonger's storefront.

Sardines and anchovies everywhere, Carla pops out of the moonroof just as the Ferrari's driver sluggishly tries to exit the vehicle...SAWing him with impunity. Spent shell casings are pushed out of the machinegun's ejection port, tinking off the Mustang's roof as the Filipino cuts a swathe of 5.56mm across the Ferrari and into its wheelman; himself taking a few in the chest cavity.

The wounded driver responds with Desert Eagle (point five-zero caliber!), putting several rounds into the Mustang's passenger door in the process.

Seeing the Ferrari's wheelman only get wounded by Carla's weapon, Artis pulls around to finish off the fleeing driver with his own brand of full-auto justice. The guns spin up, sending dozens of rounds into the poor schlub, cutting him down at the knees.

The wheelman screams in agony as he attempts to claw his way out of the situation.

Back in the park...

Speech now impossible, but her vision she holding on, Jess concentrates on Samantha's face and hand gestures. She begins reading Illiavic's lips as Jess watches Samantha check her person for wires, transmitters, tracking devices. Samantha then motions for Jess' bushwhackers to pick her up. While being carried into the neighboring foliage, Jess' has a hard time lip reading a rather expedient dialect of Russian, but she does decipher a few phrases out of the verbiage.

...Get her to the truck immediately!
...She is not to be harmed until the matter involving her friends is resolved, understood?
...I will be on my way back to the mansion. Take her to the airport. If anyone gets in your way, kill them.

Jess' last clear visage is that of being thrown into the trunk of a SUV with the tailgate slamming closed.

Jess' Fate To Be Continued...

Finding a knife blade to throat being the better out on this miscalculated insurgency, Ayumi goes for the driver's throat. The goon struggle's with his would-be assassin, also spotting the blinding lights of Artis' Mustang closing in on him.

*Jab*-*Slash*-*Spurt*

Ayumi gives the Mercedes driver the ole' Yakuza necktie with the man's last pleas punctuated by copious amounts of choked-up blood.

"Yatta, asshole. See you in hell."

Ayumi plunges the now-slippery wakizashi into a seat cushion behind her to get it to stay put, then squeezes her way into the front seat to get at the controls before the Mercedes crashes. Recalling her Agency escape artist training, she tries a few good contortions that fit the job.

Ayumi hastily stows her blade, grabbing the Mercedes' wheel, steering the SUV out of harm's way. The chance of imminent collision lessened, Ayumi hits the "Open Door" button on the Mercedes' key fob while shoving the coup de graced mobster out of the vehicle.

Behind the Mercedes, Goose sees its brake lights come on as the SUV pulls over a short distance away from the discarded goon. Exiting the truck is Ayumi, covered in blood, but from the way she's walking...it doesn't appear to be her's.

Ayumi wipes her slippery hands on her pants, notices it doesn't do much good, and just gives up on the venture. She waves at Artis as she walks around to the back of the Mercedes and opens up the trunk.

"Older brother?" she asks as the door swings up. She squeezes her eyes shut a moment before she gets a good look at her brother and prays for the best.

Quote:

Quote: from Infested Paladin on 11:59 pm on May 12, 2004

"Older brother?" she asks as the door swings up. She squeezes her eyes shut a moment before she gets a good look at her brother and prays for the best.

"Hai, Ayumi...is that you?", leaks out of her mangled brother's mouth.

Kenji opens a bloodshot eye and fixates his vision on his baby sister.

"You...you look like hell. How many times have I told you to stay out of trouble?"

A true sign of his current health or perhaps just the ramblings of an over-protective sibling, Kenji struggles to slink up to a sitting position.

"Where...where am I and how did you manage to find me? I was sure those Russian bastards would leave me for dead face-first in Moscow gutter..."

"Stay out of trouble? I should think the one with the desk job should have a harder time being kidnapped than the field agent, ne? Here, can you stand?"

Ayumi goes to help her brother to his feet.

Bones and muscle tenderized to near-breaking point, Kenji's attempt at exiting the bullet-ridden is met with great pain and discomfort.

*wincing in pain*

"Arghhh. Those Russian bastards are going to pay for this...if I have to kill every last goon this side of Urals..."

The family reunion is broken up by the reverberation of atext message scrolling across the Team's Sat-Comms.

[color=red:c10bf22115]Cleaning crew dispatched at park. Area compromised. No signs of Agent Hummingbird. All agents report in IMMEDIATELY.[/color]

Brian, who had up to that time been enjoying a rather good tasting beer, his feet propped up on the couch and pistol pointed at the only forseeable entry, frowns as he reads the message.

"Fucking hell. That girl gets in more trouble..."

He dials his phone, closing his eyes as he contemplates the likelyhood of a flamboyant, and unnecessarily violent rescue of Jess.

"Osprey checking in, at the Villa."

All signs point to yes.

Ayumi helps Kenji settle back onto the tailgate, then hits speed-dial number 1.

"Ibis here. We have the hostage; awaiting orders."

Artis swears in a whisper, then pops his phone and replies "Goose here."

Carla pulls out her cell phone and checks in, then mutters under her breath, "Frickin' American women, only good for spending a husband's money and ordering food at restaurants."

[color=blue:5c011a28b2]*Begin Transmission*

Mission Directives:

-Proceed with "Operation: Early Retirement."
-Neutralize all hostiles at Villa.
-Apprehend Lara Fischer Decker for questioning.

...Nightengale out.

*End Transmission*
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