9111/It's Business. Not Personal: Part 2, The Hit

From United Heroes MUSH
Jump to navigation Jump to search
It's Business. Not Personal: Part 2, The Hit
Date of Scene: 07 September 2019
Location: Whistler, British Columbia
Synopsis: Ravager as Deathstroke completes a contract paid for by Victor Creed.
Cast of Characters: Sabretooth, Ravager




Sabretooth has posed:
Gear up, Rose Wilson. It's time to work. The contract, lucrative and high profile as it is, has taken Ravager to British Columbia. Starling. This location, while beautifully scenic and often exclusive to the more affluent... is set to erupt into a whirlwind of activity and speculation. For most everyone except for a certain well informed, highly paid and extremely efficient killing machine named Rose.

The resort town of Whistler brings both the rich and famous, the middle class and the occasional mega wealthy member of royalty or old money politics. Last night, it brought Senator Burchmeyer and his security detail. The older gentleman in his early sixties has kept in remarkable shape for his age and occupation, cutting a lean and distinguished figure as he stares solemnly out the tall, ceiling to floor windows that over the expansive slopes of green that have quite some time before they are filled with skiiers and snowboarders. For now, the view is peaceful.

The mountainside estate is expansive, remodeled to reflect an ultra modern flair with its excess of glass and steel, marble and too bright art work that Victor would call garbage. If he was around.

Ravager is left to her own devices, a mile out with the gear chosen for her work. Ahead of her is a near monumental task. A secured, open floor plan. Six men of professional standard, mercenaries in ill fitting suits. One Senator and... a man Rose would almost immediately recognize as Saul the Shake, arms dealer from South Africa with a chip on his shoulder and aims of selling what Rose was told to be a prototype toxin, completely untraceable. Why the Senator is there for this arrangement? Hard to say.

Wind howls, clouds darken as rain approaches.

Ravager has posed:
Ravager arrived in Whistler in a shithole two-seat plane and dropped her bags into a shithole cabin on the far side of paradise, remarkably shitty sitting on the edge of the forest at the base of the mountain. At once, she checks her cute lil PADD, looking over the geography, and planning her day, which would not involve tourism. She unzips her bag and it begins.

DEATHSTROKE later emerges from the shithole cabin and climbs toward the estate, taking the long route, which takes her slightly longer than expected. It's quite dark as she peers out from the treeline at the front of the estate, then puts on her nightvision goggles because she's badass. Deathstroke sets up small devices on the treeline as she makes it toward the edge of the forest and looks up as it starts to rain on her, probably planning a distraction of some kind. As she completes her hike, Deathstroke ends up on the opposite end of the estate and uses her binoculars to scout the area clear of the trees.

Sabretooth has posed:
The two-seat plane was indeed a crapshoot. The pilot talked too much and after likely being threatened with stab wounds, talked -way- too much. Likely glad to be rid of the man, Ravager sets up shop on the mountainside. Tall, lush green grass. Massive pine trees. Extremely varied topography. The more she scans, the more she plans, the more she realizes that she has a distinct advantage of stealth while working solo. More people would make being spotted from on high all too easy.

Surprise is on her side.

When she hits the treeline, the rain starts in fat, lazy drops. Few and far between, nothing near a downpour as of yet. Planting her trinkets, she goes undiscovered and unhindered. A bird may flutter off. The scurry of a woodland critter perhaps but nothing of note until she takes up a vantage point to further scout. Forty yards out, a flashlight cuts across the dark at a downward angle. Nowhere near her. A lone man, her sharp senses picking up gun oil. Leather. Kevlar. Whiskey and sweat. A tall, lanky sentry making his rounds beneath the high terrace of the estate.

Through the binoculars, Rose sees the salt and pepper haired Senator Burchmeyer have a seat across from Saul the Shake. Saul is all smiles, the Senator looks bored. Four guards posted inside, none of them in the same room as the two men of the hour. Two of the guards walking toward the balcony, one sparking a cigarette as he goes.!

Ravager has posed:
Deathstroke has sharp senses and lowers her binoculars, watching the single man wander around the grass near the estate. She stays there for a moment and pinches herself as a flash of the future passes over her. She raises her chin, trying to catch the mysterious details about the dark and the next few minutes. She doesn't end up as a corpse, so she feels somewhat self-assured to stride from the treeline, but her visions are often mysterious.

Striding quickly forty-yards ahead, Deathstroke draws her gun like a cowboy and PHEW PHEW PHEW PHEW tries to shoot the guard with four quick surpressed shots. She was going to ambush and kick his ass, but apparently changed her mind. The noise would probably he nothing from inside, especially as it may be now thundering. She tries to locate a safe spot for the body.

Sabretooth has posed:
The sentry has no idea that Rose/Deathstroke was on the prowl. If he knew or even had a hunch, he would have asked for far, far more money. He's looking for locals. Low level theives at most. He's not expecting the superhuman adversary dressed in combat armor, bolting out of the shadows.

THAPTHAPTHAPTHAP! The rounds all connect with close grouping, hitting the kevlar vest of the Merc and stopping the first two rounds. The next two, kevlar ruined, finds purchase in lung and heart. Dead on. The man doesn't even utter a sound as he he hits the ground. Gone from this world and, considering the low-key war crimes all of these hired soldiers have committed over the years? None too soon.

The guards don't hear a thing and as she's on her fallen adversary so fast, they don't even catch the wild swings of his flashlight. She's got him tucked away. Radio chatter whispers from his earpiece.

'Roger, roger. Come back up when you finish. Over.'

Her timing was perfect, she got him after his radio confirmation. She's free to move up.

Ravager has posed:
Deathstroke leans down and hears the radio conversation, so knows pretty much what's going on and what to do next. She takes a step back from the shadows and looks up the side of the estate, at it's levels, and the lights of course give away the position she's aiming for. She then enacts Plan Chaos. And turns on her tunes.

Deathstroke holsters the tiny lil piss-ant gun, and takes the semi-automatic Ruger SR15 her father probably stole from some lazy NATO bastard. She sets off her distraction, and the explosions light up the treeline, which is interesting to look at. She empties the clip into the windows of the first level, which doesn't take very long because she's not trying to be precise. Maybe she catches some men gazing at the explosions, maybe not. It doesn't really matter, because her plan becomes clear as she throws in two EG18X smoke grenades she ALSO stole from her father. The smoke will fill the first level in 20 seconds, or your money back. She keeps ducked under the terrace as the chaos starts and cocks her Ruger, waiting for them to come out.

Sabretooth has posed:
Quiet night in the mountains, they said. It's off season so it'll be secluded, they told him. Saul the Shake was absolutely having his doubts as explosions go off in rapid fire succession. Startled out of his chair, the famed scumbag smuggler and arms dealer, Saul crab walks under the table as fast as he can.

Chaos plays and Deathstroke/Ravager directs the band with the click of a button. Orange light flares, fire blossoms down the slope and turns night briefly into day. Bullet fire pings and pops against bullet proof windows. The guards on the balcony startled, taking a second to compose themselves before training weapons down toward the detonations. Exactly what she wanted them to do. The shorter of the guards on the balcony, a woman with a severe expression and a blonde ponytail, trains a sniper rifle down below. The man beside her putting his back to hers and leveling a submachine gun to watch her back.

Those inside? They're having a bad time now. Smoke blooms, filling the first floor rapidly. Coughing and wheezing, shouting and anarchy are heard above her on the terrace as feet stomp out and bodies rush to fresh air.

Ravager has posed:
The smoke starts to come out the broken windows as Deathstroke pops up to rattle off some shots at those coming outside the terrece doors. She counts two or three, and fires at others doing the same, having to change positions across the backyard porch because some might come out different doors. Either way, it takes only a moment to gun down those rushing outside and for her to go inside, changing her clip on the way. Any sniper will have to peek their head down towards the porch and that's not a good position for any mercenary, so she doubts anyone will do that as she keeps her position tight.

Deathstroke steps inside. She tries to gun down those immediately inside too, still lingering there and enduring the smoke. She looks up the stairs of the open villa, taking note of the nice-looking architecture, which helps her spot targets and shoot them thanks to the holes and spaces in the brick.

Deathstroke climbs up the stairs to the second langing after she's sure the others downstairs are dead or have stopped struggling. She takes a flak grenade and starts going ape. She rolls one into the hallway, then another in the opposite direction and that should pretty much set the place on fire and crack all doors. She takes another M67 grenade into her hand (which she stole from her father) and readies it also.

Sabretooth has posed:
Smoke floods thick and choking, a hot cloud of throat burning fog that calls that little shady business deal to a close. If the explosions and the gunfire didn't do it, the smoke definitely does. As bodies rush to the doors, one Merc hoists the blonde sniper up. She takes to the roof just as Deathstroke begins her assault in earnest. The guard with the SMG takes a shot to the gut and neck, dropping in a writhing heap. It's not a good way to go. Not at all.

One rushing out the doorway, coughing and trying to aim his revolver with teary eyes takes a shot to the head and chest. Dropped instantly. The sniper above dares a quick shot, it misses by inches. With Deathstroke/Ravager stepping inside, she catches one of the guards as he staggers coughing and wheezing from the bathroom. Boom, boom. Thrown off his feet by the rounds, he hits the floor, red smearing on marble white.

Saul the Shake has made a run for it, darting outside to his car. The engine rolls and the arms dealer takes off as fast as the Honda will allow him. The Senator? This is the weird thing. As Rose starts going full ham with a grenade launcher, the security detail is wiped out in full but the Senator?

Standing infront of the fireplace, the man is in tatters... metal and synthetic flesh, charred bespoke suit scraps. The decoy turns its head, looking to Ravager/Deathstroke with glimmering yellow eyes through the smoke.

"You were supposed to kill the dealer, Deathstroke. S-S-S-Saul the Shake. NOT MY MEN! And definitely not ME!" It roars through speakers as the mostly metallic hands grip at its own chest.