9256/From Mexico, with love.

From Mexico, with love.
Date of Scene:	19 September 2019
Location:	Tenosique, Mexico
Synopsis:	Only 1 fatality!
Cast of Characters:	Sowa, Fiona Glenanne

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Sowa has posed:
    The Cartels had started picking up scum bag Special forces types years ago, the most notable faction of course were the Kaibiles from Guatemala. The CIA had built them from the ground up during the late unpleasantness, and turned them into elite counter revolutionaries with a penchant for ultra-violence. In Cartel service they were savage, and unlike your typical cartel sicario? Well these guys spoke English, had been formally trained to evade capture, to slip through international boarders without detection.

    One of these scumbags in particular, some jackass they called "Serpiente"? Well he'd been more than a little involved in the cartel's -other- primary money maker, human trafficing. He'd have gone unnoticed too, but even Kaibiles make mistakes sometimes. About fifteen miles outside of Gotham he'd gotten spooked, "Liquidated" his cargo and walked away. Only in his wake he left eighteen dead women in the back of a semi-trailer, and a single frame pulled off a hotel security camera.

    The DIA had picked up his scent from a handoff by the DEA and FBI. From there they'd sleuthed out his cellphone, and followed him back south all the way to Tenosique. It was outstanding, timely intelligence work which they passed on to the CIA. Only the CIA field office leaked.

    Not that any of this concerned JSOC, who with DIA intelligence had their own plans. Confident the CIA would somehow bungle the take down of their own asset, they rousted anyone in the area with priority tasking. They snagged Berna, who'd been down on entirely seperate and no doubt deeply classified matters that involved drinks with little umbrellas.

    Tenosique is a little frontier town, most famous for the amount of dead bodies they pull from the river that runs through the town. Cartel warfare upstream destroyed the town's previous business interests as a fishing resort. These days it was a quiet little town nestled in the forests of southern Mexico, just one step removed from the jungles of Guatemala.

    Serpiente slips out of his Cadillac in the dark of night, giving his shoulders a roll as he scans deserted late night streets. Confident, he sets off. It's a short walk to the hotel, he'll be back across the border by tomorrow for certain. His stride is long and lazy, shoulders slumped. Unafraid and clearly unaware of the eyes on him..

Fiona Glenanne has posed:
Fiona Glenanne, Mexico. Ordinarily she'd be sipping tequila and mojito by the pool, but she's down here to sell weapons. That was what she'd done. Bribing a few border guards to let a convoy of semi trucks through with weapons and cheap liquor. Bribing the police with better, more powerful guns. Or just selling the cartel's weapons to them for a nice profit. Fi heard all about it from her sources. One in particular was taking bets on just how the CIA would bungle this one, and how badly they'd be in the shit really. Fi was warned to be careful with the cartels, but she's made a living doing this.

So she's on a rooftop, tranq rifle in her hands. She's got night vision goggles on, and she's come prepared. Oh she's come prepared. She's set up a 'distraction'. Which in Fiona speak....means, things detonate. Fi's got her plan in place. Detonate a house a few miles away as a distraction to draw the firefighters and cops, and....if all goes well, block the road up ahead. If it doesn't, she's just blown up a derelict house and made sure people get the land. Win win either way realy. But back to this scumbag. Fi's itching to take him out, but she's waiting on the okay from the Mexican authorities. She's also waiting on the go from a rival cartel boss. She's got two people willing to tell her to take the shot. And she's waiting. Just waiting. Just stalling. Just....just....

Fi's got her car hidden away in town, a two second jog either way, and she's watching Serpient. Oh he'll get what's coming. Karma has a name, and thy name is Fiona. Or the CIA. Or whoever gets to him, but Fi's not about to cross a cartel boss. She likes living way too much. Plus she's selling guns to Guatemala from this little town, to. There's Guatemalan groups waiting across the border with shipments in beaten up pickup trucks hidden in crates of everything from alcohol, to books, to bags of sand and grain. Fioona's got a great little scheme going here. It'd be better without the scumbag mind. She's already missing a truck's worth of bullets. Sure. Serpient will make a great scapegoat.

Sowa has posed:
    Serpient pauses, bowing his head to light a cigarette. In the darkness behind him however, the shadows move. It draws foreward, concealed in his shadow. He half turns, more out of habit than anything really. Theres a single pregnant moment, the awareness of a -something- in the darkness.

    He doesn't even have time to drop his hands to his gun before she's on him, one gloved hand grasping at the very turf of his scalp to drag his head back. That knife dives in just below his jawline, plunging neatly through his spine and thats all she wrote. His attacker follows him down, twisting that dagger and twisting his neck. The result is immediate, Serpiente goes limp and hits the ground in a pile.

    Berna pauses, easing that slender blade back into it's sheathe on the inside of her forearm. Swiveling her gaze around in the dark for a moment, and well her gaze pauses on the rooftop Fiona's situated on. Under that hood, those full spectrum goggles she's wearing are easily described as "Spooky" even when not viewed with NVGs. Those two big "Eyes" look for all the world like the eyeshines of some animal, only animals don't wear balaclavas.

Fiona Glenanne has posed:
Fiona fires when the knife plunges in. She's not waiting for the go any more. Somebody just offed Serpient. She's shot him with a dart full of ketamine, mercury, and, because she got paid to be insanely cruel, ricin, too. That'll royally fuck with the autopsy. Plus, Fiona's not the nicest when it comes to hurting women. One of those in the semi was a friend. Fi. Mad. Mad Fi means things go boom. She sets the rifle down and taps her phone, setting off the bomb a half mile away in a derelict house. The night lights up.

There'ss 'just enough PETN'. Then there's 'how much Fiona uses'. She's used her whole stash, which was an entire Taliban's tunnel stash worth. Or, in other words. There was a house there. Instead, it simply vanished.

Fiona's got this magic thing down pat. C4, PETN, and RDX, at least that's what she said she put there. In truth, she's put a dozen types of explosive in the house to make it vanish. Naturally, that's cracked everything under the house. There's the stink of a broken sewer main, and cracked road. Fiona's gone right past 'overkill', into 'why did she think this was a good idea'. And she's enjoying it. Sure, she's just wrecked a bit of the town. But not her problem. She'll just pin it on the boss. He did say blow up the house. So Fiona's just a patsy and doing what she's toldunder threat of being murdered.

Sowa has posed:
    Theres a wince, as she grabs onto the fucker's collar to haul him behind cover. Pausing to hold a cellphone over his face, gathering biometrics to confirm the kill. Hitmen just snap photos, agents have a stricter burden of proof. Care is taken to pluck that dart free, delicately slipping it away for later study. Then the explosion, and well things get complicated. She had planned on melting back into the shadows without anyone the wiser, but well now the whole damned town's awake.

    Overhead what looks like a Raven glides through the night's sky, diverting off from the target area to peer through the darkness with thermal and night vision. Searching for Fiona amongst the towns folk.

    Berna just grunts, rolls onto her boots. Theres a moment taken to sweep that poncho over her shoulder, exposing that neat rubberized chestrig and the suppressed P90 that had been hidden under one arm. Armed for more, energetic action? Well she's off, sprinting away from the murder site and down a nearby alleyway to take stock of the situation and see if her bird/drone can locate Fiona.

Fiona Glenanne has posed:
The whole damn town is awake. Fiona's made sure of that detail. And she's carefully setting it up so the cartel boss gets the rap for the bomb and the kill. See. Fiona can be thoughtful at times. She overdid the explosive and falls off the roof with a crunch. Her foot goes at an angle. She yells out afew choice words in German, and she's just jarred it, the pain'll subside in a moment. She does though make her way to her car, but she can't shake the feeling she's beng watched. Or followed. Her getaway vehicle's a stolen one. Disposable. With enough packed in to make it blow up with little evdence left. Still, Fi's a careful if damn quick driver. Peeling out through town is noticeable. Very. Very noticeable. Sirens are heard off in the distance, and then more sirens. Oh and just to add insult to injury, there's several houses on fire too. If Berna's looking to tail Fiona. Fi's making it too easy. it's almost like Fi's wanting to help Berna get out of here, and then some, by dragging her along an escape route via tailing her. Or, something like that.

Sowa has posed:
    "Kurwa..."Theres a sigh, glancing skywards towards where her robotic bird is sailing through the night. She rushes through the alleyways, hurtling through the darkness in a dead sprint which she keeps up far longer than any woman ought to be able to. Sprinting as the crow flies, as it were does mean she makes it to the edge of town in record time. Panting as she skids to a stop.

    She punches out a truck window parked by the side of the road, before reaching foreward to pop it into neutral and let it roll out into the middle of the road. Impromptu roadblock secured, she takes up position behind it and waits for Fi to roll up.

    That camo is fifteen shades of grey, matching custom built chest rig, nevermind that poncho flipped over her shoulder which seems to have changed colors from black to some sort've shade of grey. A P90 with a carbon fibre and kevlar stock, and thats before you get to the mask.

    Those goggles are two oversized lenses with some sort of mechanical iris bolted ontop, a neat black Balaclava and well none of this is cartel kit. None of it is Russian kit either, or British for that matter. To the trained eye, Berna's clearly SF from god knows where. The sort've person who likely has a predator drone somewhere up there, watching over her.

Fiona Glenanne has posed:
Fi's not slowig down....till she spies the roadblock and tugs on the handbrake, the truck screaming in protest as she slams it into higher gears and brings the truck, rocking on its wheels, to a halt. She's joined in the making a roadblock game, and has got one side of the road blocked off now. Climbing out, Fiona watches the road. Her tranq rifle's back on the roof and she sprints off to start getting it. No sense in leaving Birds property. She's running to grab her rifle. Nope, not leaving that behind. And credit to her. Berna's not been shot, yet. Instead Fi's calculating and cunning. Suits the former IRA bomb maker down to the ground, as she runs back several long, long minutes later with rifle in a bag.

Sowa has posed:
    Berna steps back out of the headlights, and well she's not going to press the issue and start a god damned gunfight out here. They weren't paying her to be Nancy fucking Drew afterall, right? So she glances skyward, before stepping back and pulling that poncho back across. She steps off the road and down into a ditch, before turning and jogging back off into the tree line to exfil on her own terms. Glancing back as a robotic raven swoops down through the canopy to perch on her shoulder.