A pair of men spoke discreetly under the balcony of a grand, four-star hotel, their clothing miraculously dry under the rapid rainfall which had cursed the city of Mist for many days now. They wore the finest of suits; jet black coats, fedoras, expensive foreign shoes and navy silk ties.
They were wearing the traditional uniform of Mist's Union political party. One of the men, short and plump, was carrying a large brief case under his right arm. The other man was the quite the opposite; he was tall and lanky, with clearly Asian characteristics. The fact that he was a foreigner made the meeting even more suspicious. The plump suit monkey handed the case over to the Asian one, who glanced within it briefly, smiling. It had exactly what he needed, though to the common person it would just seem like a bundle of neat documents. To him, it was so much more. The two tipped their hats to eachother, before setting off in seperate directions. When the two had built a nine metre distance between eachother, the Asian man's plans seemed to change. He drew a pistol from his coat, spinning swiftly to face the other man's back. He aimed it steadily for a few moments, smirking sadistically, before pulling the trigger. The light "twang" noise of the trigger's spring pierced through its metal casing, followed by the fiery bust of a platinum bullet which dived head-first into the skull of its prey. The plump - which is really just a nice way of saying fat, because that's exactly what he was - man fell forward, his fedora hopping several feet through the air, landing softly upon the concrete steps which he was about to walk down. His landing, was not so soft. A heavy thumping noise rumbled down the street as his body rolled along harmlessly, a trail of blood following his corpse.

The Asian lowered his pistol, placing it into the case he had received. He then pulled a single sheet of paper from the case, and left the rest behind. With the document lying snugly within his coat, he departed. By the time the authorities and press had arrived, he was already making his way out of the city.

That day was a big day for not-so dull political meetings. In a small, secluded bunker which didn't technically exist, sat another portion of Mist's most powerful criminals; more members of the Union party. A particularly flashy man was holding a lecture, a thin pointer in his right hand which he used to occasionally slap the monitor behind him when he wanted to point something out, or attrac the attention of the bored audience. As the listeners grew inches away from slumber, the man hit a small red button which he had been holding his left hand for over an hour. At first it was a curiosity, but after so much time it had become forgotten. This was the man's plan. Let the crowd become bored, then regain their concentration with the main event of the conference. A pair of thick letters in bold appeared on the monitor behind. Together, they spelt a simple pair of words.

The crowd stirred with conversation, and the lecturer couldn't help but chuckle to himself. Like sniping building from two metres away... He thought to himself.

Days past, and just as the rain continued to fall, so to did the competition of the Unionist party. Suspicions were raised but ultimately, nothing could be pinned on the Union. It was their win. That is, until members of the Union party also died, and a single man raised an army of private investigators specialising in Espionage tactics. He led a personal vendetta against the Union, digging up every inch of dirt on the Union that they was hiding. Corruption schemes, conspiracy to kill, every major offence under the sun of politics. Eventually, this man's - Jeyman Larz - agency was revealed, and his agents were forced to cease their work. Instead, he initiated Plan B. Plan B, was "Operation Rage Quit".
A particular group of seemingly-normal civilians of several classes, were selected for this operation. Each one was accused of crimes they didn't commit, and were informed that the only way they could earn their freedom was to investigate the political assassinations that had taken Mist by surprise and left it in a mess of gossip and anxiety. Conspiracy theorists galore, of course. These civilians had been deployed to the most recent scene: A bank where two women (both from the Union party) had been assassinated simultaneously, sniped through bullet proof windows. It shouldn't have been possible.

The agents arrived at 2:36pm, armed with nothing more than simple revolvers hidden under their clothing, and a set of fake N.I.B. (National Investigations Bureau) badges in the unlikely case that suspicions were raised towards them as being fake agents. The bodies had been left inside the bank for purposes of investigation. The only objects of interest found on them, was a safety deposit key for one of the boxes in a currently-unknown train terminal, and ID badges. The women were Sarah Jell and Ria Mindle, both born and raised in Mist's noble district. The only other information given to the agents, was that there were a pair of nearvby skyscrapers which would have both been ideal for this particular assault.

[OoC I assume we can create our own crime]

Ezekiel thumbed the letter in his hand, penned to the name of Master Godfrey, and tried not to drop it in disbelief. Earlier he had been accused of a crime that would require both effort and cunning, which, while something he possessed, was not a quality he often showed. How could he have stolen money from the government through tax evasion, he didn't even understand how taxes worked, they'd never seemed terribly important, just let the accountant handle them. Now he regret it deeply.
Still, such an unusual request. A request which intrigued Godfrey more than scared him away.
"Investigate a series of political assassinations?" He murmured to himself, "Sounds like a challenge I simply can't refuse. Imagine that, an opportunity to sit around and just think about a problem until it is solved. Should be awful good fun"
Ezekiel was delightfully misinformed, though lucky to be informed by letter. He was assured that not everyone could expect such formal notification.

[OoC Sorry if I've bodged this up, wasn't sure how to begin]

[OOC: 'Tis fine. I didn't mention the crimes, purely so that you yourselves could create them. Though you may want to add in a bit detailing Ezekiel's arrival at the scene of their first destination - the bank.]

[OoC Ezekiel, while interested, is also incredibly lethargic. Thus he will arrive late, no matter how enthusiastic he is Give everyone else a little time to introduce and set off]

OOC: But my guy is already a criminal. Whatever, I'll just modify my parameters a bit.

IC:
Scott dived into an alleyway as he rounded the corner, taking cover by a stack of old boxes. Right on cue, his pursuers ran past him, oblivious to his trick. "Just like in the movies," thought Scott as he came out of his hiding spot and ran the opposite direction.
He wasn't sure what went wrong. He picked his battles carefully, and still managed to attract the attention of some head-honcho. Before he could reflect on his actions further, a car pulled up in front of him. A sharply dressed man climbing out. This day was full of so many media cliches.
"Mr. Lansing," the man said.
"I'm sorry... sir... but you caught me at a bad time."
"Well, I could just tip off those gentlemen who were after you a minute ago," replied the man. The comment caused Scott to break out in a sweat. "Touched a nerve did I?" the man continued, as he got back into his vehicle. "How about we take a ride, talk business."
Scott bit his lip in frustration, but complied to the man's request. He got in the car, closing the door behind him.
"So, what do you want?" Scott asked.
"Well Mr. Lansing. Our organization has been investigating a series of political assassinations, and we want someone with your qualities to assist us."
"A job like that has to pay pretty well."
The man chuckled. "Oh Mr. Lansing. We don't intend to pay you for your cooperation. No. Why do you think we would choose some random salesman to do this kind of work?" Scott froze. "That's right. We know all about your activies. We've uncovered enough dirt to turn you in to the authorities."
"So you basically I either work for you or you're going to send me to jail."
"Pretty much."
Scott sighed. "Alright, what are the details."

[OOC: Soz about delay, school's been a pain.]

Zeck stepped off a cherry red motorbike. There was a small patch where extra paint was clearly added on, near the ignision. This was where the motorbike's brand crest had been removed, and the evidence of this act poorly concealed. His footsteps were enhanced by the heavy rain as he slowly walked along the concrete kurb, approaching the scene where he had been told to go to.
"Mister Layman, please ... Let's talk." A bald man, dressed in a navy pinstripe suit and pants with a yellow tie, his shirt a light grey approached Zeckary. He drew a thin, long pen from his coat and when he was just a few metres away from Zeck, he pressed the trigger of the pen. This created an agonizing screeching noise within Zeck's ears, immediately telling him that this man knew the truth. As if reading Zeck's mind, the man spoke with a smirk. "That's right, Zeckary Layman. We know the truth, the WHOLE truth about you and your origin. That, you may have guessed, is why I am here." The two were standing within a large empty warehouse. Its walls and floorboards creaked sickeningly frequently, and the windows had been shattered. Apart from a poorly-built table in the centre, the building was completely bare. Just days earlier Zeck had received the envelope stating that it was in his best interest to meet the man at this address. Zeck was a cautious man - He had to be in his situation - but felt it necessary to comply. Now he regretted it. This man somehow knew too much, and it was bound to bite Zeckary in the ass at a later point.
"There's no turning back now ..." Zeckary said, frowning. "So what's this about?" The man sighed with relief.
"I'm glad to see you're so co-operative. Most of the folk I've met have been more ... Challenging. I don't need to stress to you the importance of your secret remaining a secret. For that reason ... I shouldn't need to explain to you why you shoul comply with the proposition I'm about to give you." Zeckary bit his lower lip; a blackmail.
"I suppose this has something to do with the recent series of political assassinations, yes?" The man retorted with a simple confirming nod. Over the half hour that followed, Zeck was informed of what was going to happen to him, and what his duties would be. He didn't like it, in fact he hated the idea of working for scum like this, but he had no choice.

Zeckary reached the bank at last and with a brief glance at his surroundings, he could tell that there were a mere three witnesses waiting within, anticipating questions from the group of agents. Meanwhile, Scott Lansing had been told everything he needed to know in the limousine. He was to be transported to the bank where the most recent killings had taken place. There, he was to investigate the killings and build upon any and all leads he came across, with the help of other agents who were caught within similar boundaries as his; They were basically forced to do the job. Or face imprisonment. Evidence thus far, suggested that there were two assassins working simultaneously, and that their elite skills suggested they were trained Espionage agents, possibly from foreign nations. It was also expected that at least three more agents would be joining Scott. Ezekiel Godfrey's letter had also explained this information, and included the address of the bank where they were to first meet.

Ezekiel approached the hired car and opened the door. He gave an address close to the bank they were to meet at, but kept his business for going a secret. He had no patience for talkative drivers.
"So, why doesn't a man like you have his own transport?"
Zeek shrugged.
"O.K" the driver said slowly.

After several minutes of peaceful silence, the car stopped, Ezekiel payed the driver, and stepped outside. Within minutes he arrived outside the bank and glanced at himself in the reflection of the window. Up and down he wore a brown trench coat, black scarf and striped brown hat. "A true detective." he whispered to himself, admiring his image - even if a little scruffy.
He looked within the window and noticed several people. Hesitantly, he waited by the door, unsure whether to enter or wait for approval.

Scott stepped out of the car, turning around to meet the gaze of the man who briefed him. The man smiled a waved goodbye as the window to the limo rolled up and drove away.
"Classic."
He glanced around his surroundings. Sure enough, he was at a bank. Some other agent had beat him here. By the looks of it, someone from the slums.
"I thought they hired talented individuals," Scott said to himself as he walk towards the man. Before he could properly introduce himself, another car pulled up. Another man stepped out, dressed up like a stereotypical detective. "Glad to see someone's enthused about this job."
The three stood around in awkward silence. None of them sure of how they were supposed to pull this job off.
"Let's just get this over with," sighed Scott as he finally managed to get himself to walk through the glass doors.
"Hello there," he addressed the people inside, flashin his fake badge. He kept his posture proffesional. He was an investigator ment to be here.. "Lansing. The business for which I am here should be self-evident. I have a couple questions I would like to ask the witness a few questions."

Ezekiel frowned as another man made an astonishingly brilliant entrance. Zeek followed, dumbfounded but pleased to follow in the footsteps of one so confident. In a desperate attempt to maintain an air of professionalism, he stood upright and with a quick glance to the man still outside, began speaking.
"Ezekiel Godfrey, I'm with him." he said confidently, "And that's our third outside, he's taking a quick scope of the area. For security reasons we would like to ask that those we interview do not associate with those yet to be interviewed until we are finished. It is essential that all statements are made without much forethought, so as to prevent influenced testimonies."
With a light cough he finished his opening, "As soon as our colleague joins us, we will be ready to begin."

[OOC: I have plans to have some characters' histories interrupt the story on occasions.
Yes, I'm talking to you Ryuga!]

Zeckary finished observing the area. He had glanced at every nook, cranny and corner in the surrounding area, taking it all in. He entered the buidling lazily, opening the spinning glass doors with his shoulder with his hands resting harmlessly in his pockets, his face kept low and hidden behind his red coat. Zeckary approached one of the witnesses (the one currently in question) and after Ezekiel had finished talking, he spoke.
"Villiam Kartous, Mist detective. As you can see ... We're in this together, us three. We all have different personalities and our own preferences on how we deal with "stubborn" civilians. So if one of us seems to be forgiving, you can bet your ass that one of us will be the opposite. So ... It's in your best interest to co-operate. Now, questions ... Firstly, can you confirm that the two female vicims were in fact killed simultaneously? Secondly, Can you describe exactly the angle from which the bullet came from. In other words, the directions that the women fell towards." Zeckary donned a smug grin on his face, only now realising that he had bluntly interrupted his "allies". He waited to see what questions his allies might have, before he would allow the man to answer.

He was a clearly well-built man, roughly six and a half foot tall, with broad shoulders and a titanic pair of arms. He wore a green, sleeveless bomber jacket with a black T-shirt underneath and a pair of baggy navy tracksuit bottoms. He clearly wasn't a man who could be intimidated.

OOC: YEAH!

IC:
Scott smiled at Ezekiel's performance. This guy knew what he was doing. Being paired with him would make the job much easier. And then the peasant decided to open his mouth. Scott couldn't help but place his hand on his forehead, clearly disapointed.
"All bark and no brain."
He sighed before getting back on topic. "Excuse Mr. Kartous. He's new to this." he paused to look over at Ezekiel. "Godfrey, you get to work collecting everyone's testimonies. Kartous and I will go investigate the crime scene."
He signed at "Kartous" to follow, who reluctantly did so. He made sure no one was withing ear-shot before speaking up. "Kartous, if that is your real name, could you do us a favor and shut your mouth?! I bet it's hard to understand, but you just can't go around threatening anyone you want. Like it or not, we're investigators now, and we have a set of rules to follow. Now that you went and ran your mouth, these people, who are the only leads we have by the way, are less willing to fork over information."

Ezekiel was taken aback, but decided it was best not to say anything at all. If he was going to get on anyone's bad side he would at least wait until he knew which one was better to side with. He did as the first man said, took the witnesses to the other side of the room, and began his questioning.
"I'd like to ask that everybody form a line over here, away from the evidence, and please wait until I say so. I will take you aside one at a time and take statements. After I have taken your statement you are free to join the others, though we would prefer you to keep to yourselves. After initial testimony you may be called back for cross examinations, if not then we will ask for some contact information and you will be free to leave. We are sorry for any inconvenience this may cause and we will try to make this as swift as possible. Your cooperation will be greatly appreciated."
He looked from one witness to another and spotted a rather worried, mousy woman.
"You," He said, "Over here." He continued, indicating to two chairs that seemed to have been set up.
Ezekiel couldn't help but notice how frightened she seemed. Whether intentional or not, the three of them had done a 'good cop, bad cop' number on these people.
"Could I have your name please?"
"Jones. Miss Patricia Jones. I work here."
"Well miss Jones, could you start by telling me everything that happened to you on that day?"

[OoC What happenndzz? ]

Zeckary smiled at Scott. This was not because he found Scott funny. No, it was a smile of triumph.
"It's really quite pathetic ... How someone can be so rich, yet so ignorant at the same time. I applaud you dear fool, most impressive." Zeck then yawned, allowing his mockery to leave its mark before walking towards Ezekiel who was now questioning a witness.

"It ... It was horrible!" Particia began explaining the events of the day to the agent. "I was ... I was just withdrawing money from my account, when suddenly I heard this ... This screech! The screech was then followed by a big explosion-like noise, and then the bullet proof windows just erupted, and ... And the two women died, just like that! They fell directly forward, and were both discussing something in front of the window to the left of the door, so the bullet must've come from the abandoned old folk's home just across the street, but sir I tell ya' I was mighty scared and didn't even look at the building so I don't got nothing more to say ..." Patricia was shaking lightly, licking her lips frequently as her eyes rolled wildly around. Suddenly, she flinched with shock about something. "Uh, sir I ... I almost forgot; a kind Asian gentleman asked me to hand you this when you arrived ... He seemed like he was in a hurry about something, and also seemed to know that you'd be coming here but I'm not one to pry so I just said "OK sir ..." and he went on his way." She pulled a small fragment of paper from her pocket. On it was written six digits; 447619. "I don't very well know what it means but ... Maybe it'll be useful to you?"

Zeckary was listening in on the conversation, taking down notes. Suddenly he noticed something that was very out of place ...

Ezekiel took out a notepad and jotted down the key details of the woman's account - most notably the screech. He'd written down everything that seemed important when she handed him the piece of paper, he wrote down the digits and gave the woman a inquisitive stare, "Can you describe this man at all? When did he give you this? Who was he with?"
Zeek glanced back down at his notes:
"Patricia - withdraw money.
Screech - explosive noise
bullet-proof windows 'erupted'
[instant?] death of women - fell forward. Discussion by window <-- door
~abandoned old folk's home~
-rolling eyes, licking lips, nervous behaviour. Note: 447619- Asian man?"
His eyes flickered upwards again, his pen ready to work its magic. For a moment he was thankful for his ability to do work quickly to sleep during his classes back in school. His handwriting was fast, loose, and barely legible. He glanced at Zeckary while Patricia stuttered up the ability to answer his questions. Focused eyes, lowered brow, tensed lips: The other detective had found something.

[Oh em jee! Plot point!]

Zeckary grinned, glancing at Ezekiel out of the corners of his eyes.
"Well, he had uh ... A short mop of black hair and had some finely pointed features, like his nose and ... Chin. And he gave it to me ... Just a few hours ago, and he was alone but I ... That's all I can recall." She was now sweating a lot, as if reacting to Zeckary's behaviour.
"Tell me miss Jones ... What is it you were doing at the time of the assassination?" He asked, growing more serious.
"Well it's as I said, I uh ... Came in to withdraw money from my account, whe- ..."
"So you came in to withdraw money, with the intention of leaving afterwards?" Zeckary continued, interrupting the woman. She retorted with a simple affirmative nod.
"But ... I thought you worked here? That's what you said to my comrade here, so were you not working at the time?" She flinched heavily, almost falling off her seat before pulling a handkerchief from her pocket, wiping her forehead and neck dry of sweat. She didn't answer. "I'll ask you again: Were you working here, or were you withdrawing money? Or ... Is there something else?" That was it. She bit into her lower lip, her fists tightening so much that they left marks in her palms where her nails were.
"Bastard ..." She whispered.
"What was that?"
"I said fuck you! I'm not losing my contract because of some cocky old son of a bitch!" Her tone had turned to a near-painful tone. It became apparent that she was on the verge of bursting into tears before she hopped from the chair, dashing behind a large desk. The barrel of a pistol could be seen sticking out from behind the oak desk, and she leant out briefly to fire at Ezekiel and Zeckary. In her haste, she had failed to aim at all and missed, but Zeckary still made sure to take cover of his own, drawing the pistol which had been given to him by the organization which had put the unfortunate agents into this wild goosechase.

Zeckary hesitated. He was clearly unwilling to take a shot at her for fear of actually hitting the woman.
"Listen; I'm only here for Scott Lansing! If you hand him over now, I'll kill him and be on my way. Then I get my payment from Mister Voster, and you get to continue your little "investigation" ... Deal?"

"Holy shit!" Ezekiel screamed, diving for cover. He felt for his gun then realised he must have left it at home, then realised he'd never been given one at all. He turned his head to Zeckary, "How good a shot are you?" he whispered, slowly standing up with his arms raised.

Scott was fuming at this point. It wasn't because "Kartous" had called him an ignorant, but because just the presence of this one man was going to jepordize the whole investigation.
As "Kartous" turned to leave he shouted.
"You'd better watch your back! I'm getting my life back, and I'm not going to let you mess this up!"

He turned back to go examine the bodies. Once at the site, he put on his gloves. They weren't the plastic ones that real investigators used, but they would be enough as to not arouse suspicion and keep his prints off. The bodies were quite a sight, but Scott did what he must. Distancing himself from reality wasn't a tough job for him anymore. After rummaging through the pockets he managed to find ID's. "Sarah Jell and Ria Mindle," he mumbled to himself.
He continued surveying the area for more evidence. Since he wasn't a real investigator, he was sure he was missing small details, but they were likely irrelevant since they didn't have a forensics lab to fall back on anyway. Although one thing didn't escape his gaze. A key in the hands of one of the women.
"You won't be needing that anymore," he said as he pried it from the corpe's cold grasp. Just then he heard gunshots.
"That better not be Mr. Funnybones, or I'm gonna kill someone."

"I'm only here for Scott Lansing! If you hand him over now, I'll kill him and be on my way. Then I get my payment from Mister Voster, and you get to continue your little 'investigation' ... Deal?" he heard as he made his way back to the lobby.
"OH SHI-" escaped Scott's lips before he convered his mouth, and ducking behind a desk. Luckily, no one had seen him yet.
Damnit! Here too!" Scott thought as he pulled out the revolver he recieved from the man in the limosine. "Just who on earth did I cross to get this kind of treatment?"
He peered out from his hiding place. A women was holding up her gun to his two teammates. Scott could potentially ambush her,but he thought it too risky. One: he had never use a gun before in his life. Two: couldn't possibly know how many of the other witnesses were set up to capture. If he went after the lady, he might be caught by suprise by someone else. Three: his "comrads" may be considering accepting her bargain. He would bet his money that "Kartous" would happily put a bullet in his back to save his own skin.
Scott sighed, weighing his options.

Zeckary held the pistol, biting his lower lip when Ezekiel finished speaking.
"Miss Jones, it's alright." He came out of cover, his hands raised as he dropped his pistol to the ground. He had spotted Scott, and could only hope that he'd catch onto the trick. "I agree to your terms. Do as you wish with Scott, just make sure to do it now." Patricia (obviously it was an alias) lowered her gun, aiming it slightly towards the ground. She was clearly surprised by Zeckary's behaviour. She let out a mild smile, before speaking.
"You've made the right choice agents, I assure you. You couldn't possibly have matched me in combat, so by handing Scott over, you're only helping yourselves and your investigation." She prepared to continue her speech, though if Scott caught on he'd hopefully ambush her while she spoke, while her guard was down.

Scott listened carefully. Right on cue, his comrads engaged in coversation with the hostile.
""I agree to your terms. Do as you wish with Scott..." he heard "Kartous" say.
"Bastard I knew it!" Scott thought before he registered the last part of the sentence.
"just make sure to do it now."
Scott's mind raced. The tone there was different from the rest of his sentence. Perhaps a mental cue? Whatever, this was his best chance. Scott was going to go for it.
He swiftly jumped out from under his hiding spot, aiming at Patricia. As he hoped, she had her guard completely down. He fired one shot, which evicted a response from Patricia. She turned towards him but it was too late. By then Scott had managed to adjust his aim and continued to unload on the poor women until she fell to the ground.
Rather than keep himself open for too long, Scott again sought cover. Afterall, the other two witnesses could be spies as well.
"Well, that went better than expected," he said to himself as he checked his ammo. He had used nearly all his shots in that encounter, only two bullets left. "Let's just hope there's no one else after me."
He took a few seconds to catch his breath before calling out to his comrads.
"Kartous? Godfrey? You two alright?" he asked before giving them time to respond. "Don't let your guard down. The other two 'witnesses' could be spies for all we know."

Ezekiel was still stood, barely, with his torso crouched over himself. He felt paralyzed as the shots continued to ring through the air. He had to keep some kind of composure.
"I.I'll take the witnesses to the other room. They don't need to see this." He stammered, showing the people to a door towards the back.

As Ezekiel took the witnesses away, Zeckary ran to check on Patricia Jones (though wit hevery passing minute, it was growing more and more unlikely that Patricia was her real name). He examined her briefly, and she seemed heavily wounded but very much alive. Most of the bullets had struck her legs and elbows, with only two managing to actually strike her torso, the most vital of which being a bullet that had passed through her lower chest.
"Mister Voster, your employer... Who is he?" He asked, glaring briefly at Scott. Patricia simply chuckled to herself.
"Wh-who is Echadil Voster...? Y-you're obviously not real agents, since if you were y-... You'd know that Voster was one of the most p-powerful men in the world. And your friend here just so happens to have crossed him."

Minutes later, police arrived accompanied by a pair of ambulances. But by then... The three men were gone. Scott, Zeck and Ezekiel had begun an investigation of the abandoned old folks' home. One the roof, two snipers could be seen while the interior of the building was clearly worn-down, with damp and the occasional cockroach. It was not a place that one would expect to find in that grand utopia that is the nobility district of mist. Nonetheless, it was there, in all of its eight-floor-high glory. One had to wonder why an old folks' home would be eight floors high.

OOC: Are the snipers still there? And we can see them?

IC:
Scott paced back and forth through the abandoned corridors as his teammates and himself were attempting to think of further action. Scott wasn't doing so well, what Patricia said earlier had bothered him.
"Just who the hell his this Voster guy?" he mummbled. "I have no such name in my records."

Ezekiel fumbled his way behind his colleagues, unsure of the mess he'd ended up in.
"Can someone be as kind as to tell me what the hell is going on?" He asked

OOC: Yo. Trickster. We could use a little guidance here.

[Lol, I know. I was hoping to give some time for Kyng to post, but apparently that ain't happenin' >.>]

Zeckary strolled casually up the stairs to the roof.
"It's obvious that the assassins will have attacked from the roof. I'll search up here though to make sure, you search the bottom floor Scott. Ezekiel, you check the accommodational areas." Zeckary knew that they probably wouldn't want to follow his lead, but he simply continued ascending the steps before they could react. The wind had grown heavy, colliding heavily against his hair and coat, knocking it back wildly. Suddenly, he collapsed, slumping harmlessly across the roof as a screeching disturbance rang in his ear; a screech heard only by him. The building's windows shattered violently, the glass bursting inwards while every door in the building was simultaneously blown to bits. Yet no one entered. No guns were fired and no explosives detonated. It was a brief moment of noise and destruction, followed by silence.

Footsteps tapped lightly against the carpet flooring of he building. The sun had begun to set, and the building was being embraced in shadows, the shadows of a demon lurking.

[OoC quick question, will we have noticed the doors bursting or not? I'll assume we will have.]

Ezekiel shrugged with indifference and decided to do as he was told, as he could contribute without much effort. He had barely given a nod to Scott and walked to another room before he heard a shattering sound, like wood breaking. He turned back to the previous corridor and began running up the stairs - throwing caution to the wind.
He stopped with a halt, a gust swept him.
The windows had shattered. A messy air flung itself against him. Something was definitely wrong.
"Zeckary?" he said, moving up the steps slower, "Zeckary! What's going on up there damn it?"

Before Scott could object the other two had already begun their search.
"Whatever," he replied as he made his way to the basement level.
He found nothing out of the ordinary. No people to ambush him, no hidden items. Just the regular boiler room, cleaned out storage room and the whatnot.
"Waste of time," mummbled Scott before he could here the faint sounds of glass shattering. This wouldn't have moved him, unless he heard Ezekiel shouting for Zeckary moments later.
"We really need to be more prepared for this!" raged Scott as he made his way up the stairs, drawing his gun. As he reached the first floor, he could see all the windows had been broken, and the doors were blown to bits. "Oh S***!"
Scott put his back against the wall, gun raised. He peered around the corner. No sign of Ezekiel or Zeckary. He saw shadows flicker from the corner of his eye. He broke out into a cold sweat. This was bad. He only had three bullets, and there was no telling how many intruders there were. His best chance for survival was to regroup with his comrads. Scott took another look around the corner before making his way to the stairs as quickly, and quitely as physically possible.

A large shadow gripped Scott.
"Wrong place... Wrong time." A whisper seeped into his ears. It seemed to be coming from every direction, as did the sudden breeze which had broken through following the destruction of the windows and doors. Suddenly, a block of solid substance struck him in the back, knocking him several metres forwards, slamming against a wall. A caped figure with long, rough grey hair stood before Scott. He held no weapon, simply clenched his fists. His face was pale and distorted, his eyes a sickly yellow colour. His body seemed lanky; he had sharp edges at his knees and elbows, and a thin waist and forearms. Every step he took was met only by silence, as if the sound was desperately trying to escape but was being restrained by the mysterious aura of the man (woman? Thing?) who was clearly not human. He (it?) stuck his face up against Scott's, gazing into his eyes. "Death is all that awaits you, dear friend. This is what you get for following orders. For being a puppet, you shall die like the weakling you are. Only the puppet masters serve a challenge to me... You are a pile of nothing. Simply a sheep who foolishly seperated from the flock, for your fellow sheep shalln't find your corpse. No matter how long Zeckary and Ezekiel look, they will fail to locate you." He raised his left hand while picking Scott up with his right. "Wrong place, wrong time. As I said." He slid Scott along a table, his head smashing several whiskey bottles and empty glasses on the way

Zeckary meanwhile, showed signs of death. No pulse. No heart beat.
But on street level, an expensive looking Mercedes had just pulled up near the building, several men in suits emerging from the doors. One particularly well-dressed figure held a megaphone, and spoke up to Ezekiel.
"You have to exit the building! What you are fighting... You cannot hope to handle it!" The man was clearly of Asian descent and donned cropped black hair which clung to his head in the humidity and rain. "Take mister Echon with you, mister Godfrey. Though I'm afraid... If Lansing isn't here with you then the enemy has him. It's too late for him. Mist does not make a habit of abandoning Nobles to their deaths, but... Here it is necessary."

Ezekiel was unsure what he was doing. He received a clear order, to grab Zeckary and go, but something stopped him in his tracks. Below, he swore he could hear bottles smashing - Scott was in trouble.
He rushed over to Zeckary and took his gun, muttering some intangible promise to return it, and took off down the steps. The steps echoed his urgency and made sure to thump as loud as possible.
He turned the corner to the source of the noise, sweat dripping down his face. With his arm outstretched, he flicked off the safety and searched for the attacker. As far as Ezekiel would take it, what was in there was just a man, and living your life in fear of some unseen force is a far greater suffering than facing that force - his pupils widened as he spotted the thing, and realized how wrong he had been.
Shaking with uncontrollable shock, he began pulling down on the trigger.

OOC: Poor Scott. Can't seem to ever catch a break.

IC:
"Oh Shi-" thought Scott as he was slid across the table. His head erupted in pain as he was smashed against empty glass bottles along the way. He looked one last time at his attacker, before his vision failed him. He could hear the famiular sound of gun shots ring as he drifted in and out of unconciousness.

OOC: Lol, the first encounter with Patricia was meant to happen. This was merely a conincidence that he happened to be the only one on his own at the time.

IC: bullet soared through the back of the being's neck, tearing a chunk away with it before coming to a halt as it collided with the concrete wall. The being glared at Ezekiel.
"F****ng. Ow." Was all he said as the chunk that had been ripped away by the bullet began to regenerate. An oozing, sticky substance spread across the wound filling the empty gap and leaving it as good as new. "I don't have to wrroy about that killing me and the wound is gone harmlessly... But it still hurt. Perhaps I'll enjoy killing you more?" He leapt towards Ezekiel at great speeds, gliding through the room. Suddenly, just as the being was readying itself to deliver a fatal kick to Ezekiel's face, footsteps could be heard as soldiers dashed down the stairs, overpowering the vague sound of a helicopter blade which grew more and more silent as the helicopter flew off the roof, away from the scene of the incident. The soldiers wore bullet-proof armour and night-vision goggles, and were all armed with automatic weapons. Yet they were defenceless against the being. The riddled him with electronically-charged bullets, all of which regenerated with ease, as he walked closer and closer to them. He crushed the skull of one of them with a clap of both hands. Another was left with a gaping hole in his stomach after receiving a punch to (and through) the gut. Yet the final soldier, the captain, threw a simple-looking earpiece to Ezekiel moments before being shot by his own weapon as the being disarmed him.

Ezekiel instinctively picked up the piece, listening closely to a recorded message set to permanent repeat.
".. Ust us. Replaying message: You only have one way of surviving. Ignore the Hack, and leap through the window. We were expecting an encounter here and as such, we have planned this moment very closely and specifically. As I said, jump through the window and the situation will come to an end. Trust us. Replaying message: You onl..."

Ezekiel considered the situation. His body felt numb as fight or flight took over, and the morals he tried to hold to slipped away into cowardice. The grim figure had left him desolate, wide pupils, shocked, fixated on the one thing that could make sense: The window.
He charged towards it, for a moment he looked toward Scott, his eyes welling with fear, "I'm sorry, I'm out of my depth." he muttered to himself - leaping.
The open frame welcomed his presence, then towered above him as the air cut by his face. He landed a few feet below with a thud, a mixture of sweat and tears falling from his face. He picked himself up and sprinted, unable to look back at the monster thrown into his world. His legs carried him effortlessly, his entire body warm with a tingling adrenaline - the end was behind him, but where did that mean he was going?
He collapsed minutes later, not sure how far he had ran or even where he was.
Nothing. Nothing prepared him for that.

The earpiece still bore its message into his head,
"we have planned this moment very closely and specifically. As I said, jump through the window and the situation will come to an end. Trust us."
he turned back the way he had come. Approaching cars stalked him, slowing to see what the commotion was,
"You only have one way of surviving. Ignore the Hack"
Ignore the Hack?

Scott watched as Ezekiel lept out the window. He didn't blame him. If the situation was reversed, Scott would have done the same thing. While the monster was distracted by the soldiers that stormed in, he decided to perform one last act for self-preservation. The counter he was flung across contained compartments like a cupboard, Using the last of his strenght, he crawled in, trying to hide. It was a long shot, but maybe the monster would be too preoccupied to remember to finish him off.

The men watched in fear as Ezekiel escaped... Alone.
"D-... Damnit..." Suddenly they all hid behind the car, the Asian man pulling Ezekiel behind it with him. A brief beep coud be heard, followed by a single blast. The wall on the side that the now-destroyed window was on (somehow, that window had survived. It seemed nobody noticed except for the Asian man and his "soldiers"), was blown to pieces throwing concrete in every direction The blast began specifically on that side, since the men knew that the Hack would follow at least a little bit. A little bit was enough to get into range. The table where Scott hid within had protected his back from the explosion, while the Hack and walked slowly towards the window, getting closer yet remaining defenceless. However it would not be long before the rest of the trap came into play. The explosion caused by the smashing window had in turn, triggered a set of C4 explosives hidden behind paintings and mirrors on the wall. Another beeping sound rang for each explosive object and each beep was followed by another, albeit smaller blast. Scott had been safe from the initial explosion bu the rest would surely kill him along with the "Hack".

Zeckary dashed out of the car, dropping an empty syringe on his way out. He hopped into the fire caused by the initial blast, rolling through it with enough speed to stop himself from being set aflame, and with enough grace to show off. With some strange blue lines having been added to his eyes somehow, he stopped beside Scott, dragging him out of the cupboard which hadn't protected him for long; the back had gone dark and thin, becoming a dark wafer. Zeckary dragged Scott by the arm, firing a few rounds at the Hack. But of course, it was futile. He shoved Scott out, before leaping out himself just as the beeping of the smaller explosives had come to an end. The two were knocked over a dozen metres closer to the group by the second wave of blasts, which spread to a string of blasts set deeper into the building.
"Today, you've done nothing! Understand! The Hacker shall still know the pain of his code..." The monster roared out in a painful tone to the group, before fading out of existence beneath the cover of smoke and heat waves.
The Asian man sighed heavily, wiping his brow with a tissue before talking to the three.
"It's very important that you come with us to our HQ... We have much to discuss."

Ezekiel shivered wildly as he followed their commands. So far out of his comfort zone, it was a one way trip.
He broke free from the arms of two men helping him, and stumbled away from the car and away from the flames. In desperate reluctancy, he lurched over and emptied out his breakfast onto the floor. He threw his face back, wiped his mouth with his sleeve and stumbled back. The adrenaline kick ended and shock took over. He waited for further instruction, crossing his arms against him to hold in his warmth.

Scott rolled over on his back, battered and bruised. But the pain from being knocked back by the explosion was overshadowed by his screaming headache. He swore he had suffered some kind of head trauma, and the piercing sound of the C4 didn't help. It was a wonder he was still conscious. His vision continued to blur as he looked up at his rescuer. Kartous?
Despite being an utter dick to Kartous, it seemed that he was still willing to work as a collective.
"I'm going to have to thank that bastard later," thought Scott before everything went pitch black.

Scott, Zeckary and Ezekiel were driven to a mysterious location. The main reason for it being mysterious, is due to the fact that they were not only wore blindfolds throughout the journey, but also ear muffs. According to the Asian man, it was part of a "privacy policy".
When he car arrived at a heavily secluded location in the countryside after a three hour drive, the three men were taken from the car and guided down a tunnel somewhere. Once inside, the eaer muffs and blind folds were removed, and they were met by a dark-skinned man, who was incredibly lanky and tall. His voice had an undeniably African accent, however his English and grammar was perfect. He donned a completely neutral expression, one which didn't shift an inch. He briefly analysed the men, taking in every detail of them.
"Mister Layman, mister Godfrey and mister Lansign... I can hardly say it's an honour to see the three of you, since the conidtions of this meeting are quite... Negative. You see, the creature you encountered in that building was a "Biologically Enhanced Agent of Social Termination", or B.E.A.S.T. for short. However, we of the CNM have codenamed it the "Hack". Its cellular structure, and man-made organs have all been made by Mist's top scientists; the same guys who created the Augemenational Applications. His goal is unknown, but make no mistake; this is no man, nor is it an android. The Hack is the ultimate mix of natural life and cybernetic construction. We have our suspicions of what created the Hack, however thus far wehave no solid evidence. That... Is where you come in. You can act freely since you are working for Alice Prixei's current government, whereas we would all be placed under suspicion, not to mention that you've actually encountered the Hack face-to-face, while about 90 percent of the agents in this HQ are yet to do so. In other words... We need you to act as Double Agents, aiding us in finding out who created the Hack so that we of the CNM know who our enemy truly is."

The man shuffled nervously, twisting the ring on his left thumb with his right hand. "That is... All you need to know for now. Any questions?"

Ezekiel, having recovered, looked the man in the eye. He shuffled his feet, took out his notepad and smiled, "Just tell us where to start."

Scott saw no need to have blindfolds and earmuffs over him. He was unconcious for the whole car-ride and then some. But policies are policies he supposed.
He gestured to speek as the african man finished briefing them, so to speek.
"And is there any other details that you're not sharing which could potentially get us killed?" he asked, in a snarky manner. "I wasn't a big fan of being the 'hack's' rag doll. I'd like to know what to watchout for, thank you very much."

[OOC: For real life reasons, I'll only be able to post on Mondays and Thursdays for the next month... Sorry for the inconvenience.]

"What to watch out for? Heh... You're fighting a biological weapon of mass destruction, which has mobile capabilities and a mind of its own. If you have anything to watch out for, I don't think it'd as dangerous as the Hack. Anyway... There is one last thing before you start, and to answer your question mister Godfrey, you will be starting at the scene where we suspect the next assassination will take place. But, as I mentioned earlier, this fine world of ours contains Augementational Applications and it just so happens that... We have a decent selection of them right here. We would very much like each of you to pick one, for your own sake." The man led them to a small outside bunker, surrounded by nothing more than dessert. Zeckary had to wonder why they blindfolded and ear muffed the group in a dessert since there were no sounds or sights that could be used to identify the base's location, but still he understood the necessity. Under Mist's law, they would be considered terrorists after all.

The bunker had several large, electronic interactive maps which agents were using, writing notes down, as if creating strategies. At the centre, lay a desk with several small orbs lying upon it, as well as an odd looking drill-like machine. A doctor approached the group, frowning heavily as he picked up the machine.
"Mister Jep tells me you'll be needing some "Apps"... In that case, this will hurt a lot." He drove the machine into the forearm of all three of the men slowly, one by one, making a set of openings within them. He then rested his hands upon the desk, allowing the men a minute to get over the pain of having the veins in their arms re-directed to make way for the Apps. "Now then... Take your pick. There is the Scorch App, a simple fireball fired from the user's palm to inflict fire damage. Also the Volt one which launches swift bolt of powerful electricity which damages and stuns enemies. Then there's the Shockwave, a simple blast of energy which can push heavy objects and enemies and the Nitrogen Jet app which fires a jet of liquid nitrogen from the user's palm. The Frost Wave app then, releases a collection of icey particles from the palm, freezing anything they touch. And finally the Concussive Wave which produces a wave of energy that is designed to be aimed at the head to heavily stun an enemy and the Gas Wave, with which a wave of Hydrogen is fired from the user's palm, emitting an extremely flammable gas into the air.

As you can see we have quite a selection so I ask that each of you take your pick of one before you leave." Zeckary was immediately drawn to the "Gas Wave" app, setting it into the newly-formed gap in his arm which still contained traces of fresh blood which the doctor has apparently failed to cover. A set of root-like spikes sprouted from the orb, setting it firmly within Zeckary's arm. He whinced with pain, before turning to the others, curious to see what they would pick.

Ezekiel, horrified by the process, had gone through with it for one reason alone.
He walked forward enthusiastically, lurched for the Scorch App and has it attached within moments. "I think I'll be playing with fire." He laughed timidly. A thought occurred to him all but suddenly, "Fire and hydrogen, that's a potent mix. That thing before didn't seem to like explosions."

OOC: That's too bad Trickster, but I understand how life gets in the way sometimes. Thanks for letting us know though.

IC:
Scott was found of the procedure he just underwent. But he didn't complain, he'll be getting an app out of this. Not that he had a choice anyway.
Zeckary and Ezekeil had already made there choices. Apps that were synergistic with each other.
"Well as much as I think synergy may be important for this mission, for the sake of diversity, I will be taking that Volt app."

Zeckary glanced at the apps chosen by the other two out of the corner of his eyes.
Fire, electricity and a flammable gas. Fire and gas will make a nice fusion, and that electricity could be rather effective in this wretched weather... He thought to himself.
"You say that we'll be starting at the scene where you expect the next assassination to occur... I presume that will be the conference that's due to take place in a few hours, where politicians from every party in Mist is expected to attend and answer question. It'd surely be a good target." The man smirked lightly, but although his lower face seemed pleased, his eyes were glaring harefully at Zeckary. As if he was impressed by the way he quickly worked out the objective, but was irritated because he wanted to say it.
"Y-yes, that'd be about right. We'll be transporting you to a landing point on the roof of a hospital. As far as they know, you are a group of bodyguards attending the conference so act accordingly. You are to make your way from there to the conference, where you will remain alert at all times. There's one more thing... You won't be awake for the trip." He grinned sadistically into the eyes of all three men.
"G'night,"

The back of a rifle thudded heavily against the backs of their skulls, all simultaneously. They were carefully moved to the helicopter, and would not awaken until they landed, where they would be manually awoken by the pilot.
Zeckary however, simply feigned unconsciousness.

Scott awoke abruptly as the helicopter landed. He rubbed the back of his head, trying to ease some of the pain he was still experiencing.
"You guys really need a better system," he remarked as he watched the escorts awaken Zeckary and Ezikiel. "I swear, I'm going to be a vegetable if I keep sustaining head injuries."
He hopped out of the helicopter along with his teammates. They watched the helicopter fly away before asked. "So how are we going to do this. Should be inspect the other buildings for snipers, or do you think the assassins will try a different approach? Also, should be split up or stick together? I'd rather not get caught off guard by that hack, if it decides to show up again."

"That's true, the last time it seems as though the Hack was attacking while we were solitary. It makes sense for us to stay together, especially since the streets are much large than a confined building. However... By sticking together, it means that if it does attack, we'll all be done for. Those agent guys won't be here to save us next time, I reckon..." Zeckary spoke in a nervous, light tone. "For now, I say we should try to get to the conference and from there, try to secure any nearby buildings that would be suitable for an assassination."

"I like the plan. Although I wouldn't be too worried about the Hack wiping us out at once. We've got App's now. Not that they'll kill the damn thing, but they'll likely slow it down long enough for at least one of us to escape," replid Scott as he pointed at his arm. "Well... we should hurry to that damn conference. We need to clear secure the perimiter before the politicians bring themselves out into the open."

[OoC Sorry for lack of posting... ]

Ezekiel hopped off the helicopter, wielding his new weapon with an exuberance of cockiness. He pointed his palm towards a graffiti ridden wall, eagerly scrunching up his face in thought. With a slight twitch of his fingers, a plume of smoke spat from his App and splattered against the wall with a light flash.
"Once we get these things warmed up they're going to be quite the shock to our little friend, no pun intended Scott." He said confidently.

"More importantly though" He began in an unusual, foreboding manner, "We have to ask ourselves how this thing came to be, and why it does what it does. We can't just protect the men in that meeting - that's a job for soldiers - we have to interrogate them, but we have to be so discreetly that they never even notice we're doing it. I mean, let's ask ourselves, why would all these powerful people meet when such a threat is present? Well at least one of them must have supported such a meeting, and half of them would have to agree. At least one man in this meeting is responsible for the Hack, that much is a fact."

Zeckary glared briefly at Ezekiel; he had thought of something which Zeckary had failed to consider, and quite franktly it pissed him off more than it should.
"Indeed..." Was all he said. He let out a deep, delayed sigh, rummaging calmly through his pockets until he had a firm grip of something within. He spat to his side, watching as the soliva was dragged away with the wind, before making his way to a stair case leading deeper into the hospital. "Either way, Apps or no Apps, we need to be careful. But we also need to hurry up and get to this conference." He led the way down, whincing lightly with each step he took as the sound of shoes colliding with metal echoed through the stairwell with every step he took.

The hospital's main floor was bustling with activity. White coats flailed neatly in every direction like a highway of doctors, and Zeckary had to force his way through, not even bothering to look back on Scott and Ezekiel. He eventually reached the streets outside, frowning at the sight. It was the slums. The conference was being held in the slum district, where Zeckary had reportedly "grown up". He allowed an expression of despair envelope his face as he looked back, checking to see if his comrades were following.

Ezekiel emerged into the slums, he instantly turned his head up and frowned disapprovingly, "The slums? You're kidding me. They're hosting the meeting here? High class security fails, so they resort to hiding like rats. That's not even counting the innocents who could be harmed out here."
He shook his head and examined the area.
"It's disgusting. When I signed up for this I thought we'd be walking around immaculate offices with magnifying glasses, not slums. You can't do detective work in the slums. Oh well..."

Scott was nerely taken aback after entering the slums. He hated everything about it, the lack of cleanliness, the desperate people, how it managed to remind him of his childhood. He still managed to keep his composure. Afterall, someone was already doing enough bellyaching for the both of them.
"Well this makes the job both easier, and more difficult," Scott sighed. "Its going to be difficult blending in. We don't look like the average slum dweller. Luckily, once we find the damn conference, securing the perimeter will be a lot easier."