Meanwhile... (7)

There's more to this campaign than a bunch of naked people breaking and entering in the suburbs. The Meanwhile... thread will include bits and pieces of things going on that relate to the characters but don't directly involve them. Some of this may seem strange, but it will all start to make sense over time - trust me. My players did.
WARNING: This thread will contain potential spoilers. If you are a player in this campaign and want to maintain a perfect mystery for yourself, read no further. If you're more interested in knowing stuff and have no problem keeping player and character knowledge separate and distinct, then by all means enjoy.
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The 100” widescreen monitor on the wall was split in half. The left side had multiple segments and windows displaying status reports and news updates from the various BlacKnight LLC operations areas around the globe.
There was an after-operations debrief from a security team in Iraq. There was a running update of the indices from all of the major stock exchanges. There was a status report for a current joint project being worked with NASA regarding the latest science module for the International Space Station. There were others. BlacKnight was a multi-national conglomerate with ongoing concerns in forty-three different countries.
The right side of the monitor in Sir William Tyrion Black’s office was dedicated to an ongoing videoconference between Sir William and BlacKnight’s New York City Chief of Operations Catherine McMannus. Her hair was pulled back today into an oriental-style bun held in place with two sticks. She was a combination of efficient competency and a feminine if somewhat hard-edged attractiveness that Sir William appreciated.
“Did you get the profiles I sent you?” he asked her image on the screen.
She nodded. “Yes, just this morning. I looked through them and I don’t think there will be a problem.”
Sir William cautioned, “Do not make the mistake of underestimating these people, Cathy. They are terrorists, well-trained and financed.”
Had anybody else called her Cathy, she would have declared war right then and there. But it wasn’t anyone else, and Sir William Black was the only person in the world who could guarantee her hold on the power and prestige of being COO of the New York City office – and possibly more. He could call her Cathy anytime he damn well pleased and she would smile and enjoy it.
“I studied the profiles and we will be taking every available precaution,” she assured him. “We’re using a fox-and-hound approach. I have our best local operative preparing to make contact in order to assess and report in advance of our tactical forces making their strike. If he can, he will lead them into a pre-arranged ambush so we can minimize the chances of force being required.”
Sir William shook his head slowly. “There must be no casualties,” he warned her firmly. “These people are not to be significantly harmed. I want my expectations clear on this.”
“Crystal,” she replied over the link with an assuring tilt of her head. “I’ve authorized the temporary issue and use of some non-lethal weapons systems we have in development for the United States military. The strike team members are all combat veterans. There won’t be any mistakes.”
“There better not be,” he answered grimly, his tone indicating how bad it would go for her if there were.
Sir William turned away from the screen and walked back to his desk, signaling that the conversation was over. Catherine disconnected from the conference and flipped open the black folder embossed with the Black coat of arms on her desk. There were six sheets and she spread them out so that she could see them all together.
Three of them looked to be possibly as dangerous as the terrorists they were cracked up to be, but the others… one was just a girl, and another was a chimpanzee, which made no sense to her at all. Maybe the animal was carrying some kind of disease, she thought. Could this be an effort to quietly quarantine or eliminate a mistake cooked up in one of BlacKnight’s underground bioscience R&D labs?
In the final analysis it was neither here nor there. Catherine picked up her phone and waited a moment for the other end to pick up.
“Where is Fox now?”
* * * * *
Mr. Fox glided his Audi S8 off of Route 36 south and into the large parking lot of the FoodTown. He chose a space away from the press of vehicles near the main entrance to park. He spent a few minutes surveying his surroundings before getting out of the car.
He wore blue jeans and a black dress shirt over a white T-shirt. Over that he had on a light brown casual outdoorsman jacket. His feet were encased in comfortable yet practical black Merrell jungle mocs. His sunglasses and haircut were as stylish as his car, but otherwise he looked like any other suburban strip mall denizen.
Fox took a deep breath to taste the air and held it as he stretched his torso. From the pocket of his jacket he fished out an iPhone and Bluetooth earpiece and turned them both on. Once that was done he made his phone call.
“This is Fox. I’m on station and standing by.”
**Understood,** came the anonymous reply. **Mission parameters are being sent to you now.**
Fox turned his iPhone sideways as the streaming data began to appear on the screen. There were six profiles and he committed the pictures to memory before moving on to the mission objectives.
“Make contact…assess group strength and motivation…report back,” he confirmed. “Anything special about this crew that I should know about?”
**Targets are to be considered dangerous and possibly violent so exercise caution. You are not – repeat not – authorized for deadly force. If things go bad, you walk away. Confirm please.**
“No deadly force, if things go bad I walk away,” Fox repeated back.
**Targets’ location is sent. Mission begins now.**
“Roger that,” Fox replied before ending the call. He quickly stowed his earpiece into his jacket pocket and got back into his car.
A few taps on his phone and the GPS system displayed his current position and a small red dot less than a mile distant on a street map. Mr. Fox started his car and pulled out of the parking lot.
* * * * *
Two minutes later, Fox pulled up to the curb in front of 345 Hillside Avenue. There was a retaining wall about five and a half feet in height along the property’s curb side which partially hid him and his vehicle and gave him a chance to look the place over.
The garage door was open – someone was home. There weren’t any lights on but that wasn’t unusual for this hour of the day. The neighborhood was quiet, most of the residents off at work.
With a sigh, he drew his sidearm from his holster inside his jacket. He never ever liked to go into an unknown situation without being armed, but the mission parameters were very clear. The handgun went under his seat into a small padded box bolted there just for the purpose.
From the center console he retrieved a black leather identification wallet. He checked the FBI badge and ID and then thought better of it. That approach wouldn’t work with criminals if he was just assessing and reporting. He tossed the wallet back into the console and closed it.
So how do I play this? he asked himself in his rear view mirror.
Fox checked his mission data for the location. The property was the residence of John and Christine Scalera. Neither had a record, no outstanding warrants or parking tickets. John was a project manager. Christine a stay-at-home mom.
He looked around quickly. There weren’t any vehicles in the driveway or garage so Christine had likely gone out, but she could be home at any moment. He went back to the data. There had to be something he could use as an “in”.
World of Warcraft subscription for John, no. A new gun permit for the missus, no. He rummaged around some more but came up empty. These have to be the most boring people in the world, he lamented.
“Fuck it,” he finally said. With one last check in the mirror, Mr. Fox opened his door and exited his car. Then he walked up the driveway to the steps that led to the front porch.
- Thrakazog's blog
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Comments
To paraphrase popular horror
To paraphrase popular horror spoof "Whatever you do, don't open the door. It's always some psycho waiting to kill you on the other side."
I'm willing to bet he's not peddling Avon.
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This whole series has been nothing but awesome sauce!!! Good stuff Thrak. You're a genuius!
"Genius" is far too kind,
"Genius" is far too kind, but thank you. I'm glad you enjoyed it.