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Post by Tacey Epona on Jul 18, 2014 13:46:06 GMT -6
I DON'T need the promise of
HEAVEN. | Tacey stretched the bags under her eyes with her fingertips, wondering if she held them long enough they'd stay like that. She rubbed her eyelids; when she blinked to refocus on the mirror, it revealed she'd smudged mascara on her cheeks. Dammit, how was it even still on there? She wet her fingers, rubbing off the black smear on the edge of her cheek. She looked like she was not only a foot in the grave but actively trying out for the part of a corpse in the newest apocalypse film.
Allen had called her after the, well, they'd been referring to it as the event, even though it was becoming rapidly clear it deserved a level of severity beyond that of a holiday parade or marriage. He'd been brisk, words muddled with the sound of a car engine, telling her he was safely out of Domhan Tir (and it'd been nice to know he was there, wouldn't it?). But for the information she'd forgive and forget. Domhan Tir was not precisely covering up the event, and see, that made it feel singular, that the action ended there instead of being perpetuated. They had responded to Aquavia's inquiries, of course, but they were not being entirely forthwith. Understandable, with the rumors of their god having disappeared into the forests, though obviously not preferable.
Yulon, a sallow-faced man in the employ of the military, had reported that other Aquavian's at the event had been found and debriefed - with the exception of her husband, for they did not know he had been there, and a mercenary participant, whose location was currently unknown. Tacey resisted the urge to press for a man-hunt and perhaps that had been a poor idea. She took to the defense that she was grieving over the death of Dym. Grieving - was that under- or overstating what she felt? Her body was consumed by stress and the pound of her heartbeat kept it from being weighed down with misery. Dym's death had went a posse ad esse, from a possibility with no contingency plan to an actuality.
The council had sanctioned a memorial to be built, a balm to the mourning masses. A temporary sanction and that was all they had. Temporary sanctions, temporary restrictions, everything made for the moment. Without a replacement for the faith Dym had garnered, the populace could turn to rioting, or, far worse, begin to the trust the liars that stood on streets corners, preaching of false gods. Tacey had given her opinion on the matter. She'd been heard without the subtle sneers oft passed in the council and from that, more than the silence that supplanted her speech, the despondency of the members had been made explicit.
Meetings were the new measure of her day. Today was a fiver, one for each finger on her left hand. She'd been surrounded by people too much, their voices fighting for survival in the ocean of her mind. Some were called by her comrades, but others she had set to assuage her own disquiet. In her department - for if there was to be war, there would be soldiers and what did soldiers do best? They got sick, they got sliced up, they got dead. The labs existed to rectify the problem. Out of her department - for war brought collateral damage and how would they protect the city? Tacey advocated immediate evacuation, weighing life over drowning when the dome came cascading down. It...it wouldn't with the number of security measures they undertook and it could be that they were safer in Shinsoo than on land.
She raked her damp fingers through through her hair, righting it. Exhaustion worsened her anxiety, rooting into childish fears her therapist tried (and failed, he hadn't known her well at all) to absolve her of. She wouldn't let them consume her. Tacey tucked a loose corner of her cerulean blouse back, straightening her blazer. It was dark black, embroidered with Dym's emblem, same as the ones being marched through main street. Tacey sighed.
The clock said she'd spent seven minutes standing in front of the bathroom mirror. Dammit. Tacey left the bathroom, beckoning for the guardian at the door to follow her. She took the phone she'd left with him, murmuring a thank you, and sent a message to the council head that she was heading home. After, she called Allen, relaying the same message. 'I'll be out in a half-hour. Do you want to meet somewhere for dinner?' he said and she could picture him leaning back in his chair, tapping his pen against the desk. 'Not tonight, Kier. Can you pick up something on your way home?' He replied that he would and she hung up as she walked out to the streets. It was crowded with mourners.
So, this was the state of her dear city, with this psychology that cut both ways, laboring under delusion. The gods wouldn't give them anything (would Dym have even appreciated the halt in business and life?). What was the use of these displays? Another guardian fell in line behind her. Tacey just kept her head down, hoping she'd get home without an incident.
| 7:20 pm. eight-hundred sixty-five. open
[katya of ote]
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Post by Deleted on Jul 27, 2014 23:00:20 GMT -6
THE SUN'S GONE DIM, AND THE SKIES TURNED BLACK. ❝ Ever since Dym’s death, the ‘Night Raid’ division’s spec ops command had been on full alert for any signs of conflict and chaos. What had happened was a traumatic loss for the people of Aquavia, and it went great lengths to show that their military just wasn’t prepared enough. Even if sanctions and restrictions were placed on the civilians for their own protection and keep the society from falling apart, it was inevitable that everything would crumble without some sort of figure head to keep them all together. Something had to be done, but what could a lone soldier do other than take orders from his superiors? All guardians could possibly do was to have their guns loaded, and brace for the unknown that would take the city up like a storm.
Would such storm end bring about an end to this nation? Who knows? Damien had studied history and all kingdoms were bound to rise and fall, the only thing that soldiers could possibly do was to fulfill their duty – just like what he was doing now. Under the orders of the command, he was to keep an eye on a woman named ‘Tracey Epona’ with his squad sniper ‘Kexis Raganarok’, a well-known sharpshooter, and infamously known as the ‘Cannon Bitch’ amongst both men and women of the spec-ops command.
Usually, the ‘Bravo squad’ always stuck together whenever missions came up, and these missions usually involved either search and destroy, or reconnaissance. Doing an escort work like these… that fell under the security forces, so why them? For this reason, Damien asked his superiors, but the details of the mission had been rather vague, and he heard something along the lines of her giving both the lieutenant and the specialist orders. As odd as this might’ve seemed, they had little choice in the matter, especially when it came directly from the command, so Damien lied wait within the dark. His soot black armor blended in with the shadows, the feint orange lights that illuminated from the hulking metal beast gave it form of a faceless creature on two legs with a myriad of sharp teeth, as if grinning at its victim.
While the armored figure appeared to be alone, he was not. A few more guardians were positioned within the building as her primary guard, but they were unaware that the Night Raid had been keeping a close watch on them. In addition, Damien had their squad sharp shooter tactically positioned directly on top of the building as an over watch to keep a close eye on the streets for any lingering threat from the outside. She was their first line of defenses against any ‘unwarranted guests’ wanting to barge in here without any form of invitation or clearance. If necessary, she would drop them. Dead. Thus far, the night had been quiet almost as if hell froze over.
Eventually, the motion detector on his heads-up display in his helmet flickered to life when he saw movement in the bathroom area where a soldier had been guarding her. It would seem that their guest of honor had finally finished her long shower. As she left out into the streets amongst the crowd of mourners. Damien shadowed behind her, keeping her within his sights, but away from the crowd and the soldiers not to be noticed. It was time to check up on the sniper.
“Bravo Four, eyes front. The woman has left the building, keep a close watch on the streets, do you copy?”
MADE BY MINNIE OF FTS & GS |
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Post by Kexis Ragnarok on Jul 28, 2014 0:45:55 GMT -6
I see you... KEXIS RAGNAROK SPECIALIST - SNIPER NIGHTRAID CODENAME: GHOST
| There was a man once in a philosophical book she'd studied titled "The Soldier's Mind" that spoke of peace as a literal period. He believed that through discipline an entire people could achieve serenity and the detachment that preserves every molecule of the world it renounces. He wrote that only through discipline one could learn to preserve what is necessary and essential to true happiness, success, and more adverse circumstances.Discipline, in perfect practice, abandons easily and with simplicity that which would have else seemed indispensable: that we come a little to see the world without such a gross distortion of any other desire other than to be happy. Through accepting earthly privation and horror. Through discipline. She had taken plenty from this man's view. The fact that he believed so heavily and whole-heartedly in the rewards of discipline pointed to the opinion that it wasn't immediately objective. In its nature.. it involves the subjection of one's very own soul to a minor end. And that end?.. Is very real. Suppressed. Leashed.He believed that all things that evoked that discipline - that study it and its duties to man and the commonwealth, the war, and personal hardship... ought to be greeted by the rest of the world with gratittude and pride. Maybe.. someday.. her father would greet her with those. But perhaps she wasn't yet disciplined enough. Either you are controlled by your own selfish soul, or the highest evolved human form of natural discipline - the way man was meant to be. Only then can a soldier attain to the very least detachment.. and only then.. can a soldier know perfect peace.Right now her peace existed against the cold rim of her rifle's sight. She'd sat against it, the bipod mounted on the corner of the metal roof between two units for air, for an hour already in-wait for the woman to leave Point Alpha. The red laser was shut off to ensure she remained perfectly unseen by the public. The only thing that lit was the tiny mic that rested in her ear.Kexis saw her target, the one she was to protect from a distance via the Lieutenant's orders. She didn't question why she'd been brought here alone.. nor did she question why on earth they were doing this. She was told to do something and she did it. No complaints, ifs, ands, or buts. She was obedient to a 'T'. Often far too obedient.. Kexis kept her rifle steady within her.. awful.. inorganic hand as well as against her shoulder. It still felt like home in her grip - it always did and always would.“Bravo Four, eyes front. The woman has left the building. Keep a close watch on the streets, do you copy?" The speaker buzzed in her ear which immediately received a reaction from her, two fingers lifting to keep it in place while he spoke."Clear copy, Bravo One," her low voice was straight and patient, "Streets are sound. I have eyes approximately three-quarters of a mile ahead of the target. More than enough room.. Will await your signal for any action, sir."
coded by LILITH of ADOXOGRAPHY
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Post by Tacey Epona on Jul 28, 2014 18:10:09 GMT -6
I DON'T need the promise of
HEAVEN. | Trouble had always came to her in sync. Never neatly sequential, never allowing her full attention to rest on a single issue. The tournament and the escaped donor - but somehow better, in escalation, rather than in addition. She twisted the wedding ring on her finger, clenching her jaw. She hadn't been told of the emergency immediately and, certainly, had they been able to rectify the issue she would have only been notified in a monthly report. The lab had scrambled to retrieve the missing donor, designation K-Z, aliases possible. The girl was wily enough to avoid their attempts at capture - if she had been informed earlier, there were measures to discretely seal the city, surveillance that would have received temporary authorization, action that could have been taken. Well, no use thinking on what could have happened.
Tacey, as child stepping in Maris' footsteps, had given only a rare thought toward actual science. She was so much more consumed by possibility and potential, idealistic without concern to reason. But then Maris had died and she'd refocused on those things tangible. The human potential and all that accompanied it. She viewed their age as one of tremendous scientific development, yet unrealized by the general public, and with it came the questioning of previously formative standards, a bevy of problems new and old, some inexorably linked.
The casually titled Donor Program was one of them, the program full-fledged years before her birth. They had examined other options. They'd tried printers and ended up with disaster - hearts that would lose cohesion after transplant, liquefying in a patients chest within a year (Maris had ranted for hours, telling her that everyone involved was fired and should be grateful they had gotten off so lightly) and even that had been an accomplishment compared to the numerous other trials where life could not be persuaded to take root at all. The labs were messing an essential protein, a chemical - if there was anything which would make her bring Allen into the light, it would be for that. But. Again, these were as useless as any thought tended to be.
She'd made a discrete request. Beyond the lab and herself, there were scarce few who knew and Tacey intended to suppress the information as much as was in her power. And she could do that, would do that, once the donor was...once she was dealt with. Tacey nearly appreciated the problem. It was one with an obvious solution, clear steps that needed to be taken for success. Unambiguous, neat. Not now, of course, but afterward.
Her house was a quiet attachment, dark, subtly lined with technology. An incredible amount of security, the fact freely shared, an accommodation she had to make to ensure her privacy. The guardians were never far - a press of numbers against the embedded walls and she could have a force present in minutes, if she were inclined. She locked the door behind her, flicking on the light in the foyer. Dim motion-activated lights came on as she passed through the lower floor, settling only when she reached the porch. Secure, as well, but to a lesser degree, made less when she deactivated the barricade.
The conversation she wanted to have suited her office, her authority infusing every inch of the space. Only her office was too public to be secure. The sleek, spartan look of the lower floor was for more reason than aesthetic; any bugs were fried when the house recognized them as foreign. It was the safest place she had - and it was about time she conveyed a proper invitation.
| 7:35 pm. six hundred and three. come on in!
[katya of ote]
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Post by Deleted on Jul 30, 2014 17:05:27 GMT -6
THE SUN'S GONE DIM, AND THE SKIES TURNED BLACK. ❝ “Clear copy, Bravo One. Streets are sound. I have eyes three-quarters of a mile ahead of the target. More than enough room. Will wait for orders for any action, sir.”
“Copy, I have my eyes on the streets as well. Keep up the overwatch, Bravo Four.” The man gave a brief moment of pause, briefly looking over to the streets before tapping the side of his helmet, "Bravo One, out."
Damien continued to track and keep an eye out for any potential threats. Only thing that filled the streets tonight, however, were nothing more than woes and gnashing of teeth of people who despaired over the loss of their beloved god. However, one could never be too careful – even at times like these. This was exactly the reason why the soldier had put his sniper on an overwatch duty, and as expected out of Kexis, she had been doing an excellent job of keeping her scope ahead of the target while the lieutenant acted as the rear guard. However, trying to spot their VIP amongst the forest of bodies was not easy. Therefore, Damien was forced to switch his position from time to time simply to keep his attention on her while keeping himself under the cover of shadows to keep himself from getting spotted. However, he imagined their squad sniper must’ve had a much easier time tracking her down not only due to her position, but her lack of worry of having to be spotted in the public.
Nonetheless, the two soldiers managed to follow the target down to her home and Damien made to clear for Kexis to come out from her position when their lady was secured at a safe location – meaning her home. It went without saying that the woman’s home was no less than impressive in terms of security. Despite the simplicity, it had guardians lined up and he imagined that someone of her status was capable of affording the very best state-of-the-art security system to protect her home should the invaders somehow was capable of withstanding wall of hot lead coming down on them in a deathly rain. Even the well-trained forces like Night Raid would have difficult time getting through just with the brute force alone, not unless they brought the heavy guns in on this. Someone knew what they were doing when they picked this estate to be their home.
Fortunately, they wouldn’t be raiding her residence, not without orders anyway. So they wouldn’t have to worry about any sort of incoming hostilities on the security forces. However, it was part of the Night Raid’s protocol to remain anonymous – even when coming into contact with those that knew them, so Damien would be keeping his helmet on for the time being and he expected Kexis to do the same, or at least, cover up her face with something feasible. As the two approached, a group of soldiers took notice and pointed their weapons.
A warning shot. It seemed like these men were on edge tonight.
“Stop, identify yourself, now!”
“We are ‘her’ guests, let us through.” Damien coolly explained as he stopped in his tracks, “But our identities are to remain anonymous.”
“Fine, but don’t try anything funny while we try and get in contact with her....”
Now to play the waiting game.
MADE BY MINNIE OF FTS & GS |
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Post by Kexis Ragnarok on Jul 31, 2014 22:09:59 GMT -6
I see you... KEXIS RAGNAROK SPECIALIST - SNIPER NIGHTRAID CODENAME: GHOST
| Hundreds of people flooded the wide streets, some holding up signs dedicated to their deceased god and others holding the hands of their family members and friends. All wore dark colors in mourning.. So the grey-haired woman was not hard to spot out in particular. Her safety remained on, finger off the trigger as she only monitored her movements and the movements of others around her. She'd have the safety off in half a second should anything look remotely strange.. but so far, all was sound. Kexis lifted her rifle as soon as the Lieutenant got further up, hopping easily from one building to the next with the little gap that lined between them. It was no real feat. She'd set it up time and time again to see clear shots of all around their target - maintaining her distanced safety at each and every turn. The Lieutenant blended in well, even in his large suit, along with all the other dark figures among the crowd that were packed shoulder-to-shoulder. As soon as they'd made it to a more residential area, still not too far from the heart of the city, Kexis pressed down the barrel of her rifle and slung the heavy weapon onto her back where it clicked and locked in-place. A cold prick hit her cheek and she looked upwards. Drizzling barely.. she didn't mind it. Kexis climbed atop another home, a taller home, overlooking the backyard and the wellbeing of the woman until signalled and ordered to do differently. She heard his exchange with the guards at front.. one of them repeated 'we?' without the sight of the sniper, but it seemed the other just went ahead to the back in order to await acknowledgement from the owner of the home. Kexis bent her legs, waiting at the corner of the building with patient breaths and an elbow resting on one of her thighs - the other.. awful metal thing they wanted to call her 'limb'.. hanging down loosely. When he mentioned their identities, the sniper flipped her visor down - the machinisms at the sides of her jaw locking it into place and leaving her mouth free to speak. The woman seemed to know.. even as she spoke to her guard, she was perfectly comfortable with letting him know that she had company visiting.
It was to the other's surprise, after questioning where the other soldier was, that she'd dropped down from the corner of the building and landed heavily onto her feet by the Lieutenant's signal to break position. She stood then, eyeing him through the black visor - armor much thinner and lighter than her superior's. Not so much a suit.. rather than functioning uniform. And this one? Displayed no smile. Just one, dead, glossy mask as empty in emotion as the lips beneath its rim. coded by LILITH of ADOXOGRAPHY
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Post by Tacey Epona on Aug 1, 2014 13:34:13 GMT -6
I DON'T need the promise of
HEAVEN. | She heard the shot while she was putting her tablet away. She took it out again to make a note to have that guard transferred the next day. Trigger-happy meant unpredictable. While the situation was especially tense this week it didn't justify an emotional reaction. Besides, there were families in this neighborhood; no reason they should be startled. She sent a text to Allen after another second of thought, telling him to take his time coming home this evening (he responded that he'd stop for a drink, accompanied by an unhappy emoticon - he had accepted the reality of her job but he was decidedly upset at being kept in the dark).
A guardian came around to the back. 'M'am, you have 'guests'. A man and, uh, a woman. Won't identify themselves,' the guardian said, finger uncomfortably near the trigger of the rifle. Tacey stood, smoothing her skirt. She let a genial smile settle on her face, default and unreal. False expressions were like currency and, boy, was she affluent.
"Thank you," she said, keeping her tone light. "They're here to reassure me that my security is up to spec. Those in the business are always so paranoid, aren't they?"
The man nodded, a little uncertainly. He had nice smile, she thought absently, wondering if she'd ever see his face again after this night. She never thought of her guards as disposable, per se, but she had no incentive to know them personally (was that heartless? she couldn't tell.) Tacey dismissed him to his position - she'd greet the guests herself, that would be alright. Passing through the living room, she paused, her hand resting on the edge of the couch. She took her blazer off, setting it neatly over on its arm. Leaving it diminished her intensity, severity, but wearing it in her own house was just uncomfortable.
She opened the front door to see that they were still being kept at a distance. Two of them, as anticipated, up to the nines in armor. Hardly subtle in her opinion, but as they apparently suffered no consequence for it, she'd bite her tongue. Tacey altered the security of her house to disable termination of foreign technology, set to expire in an hour, trusting them to not be carrying anything unwelcome. Paranoia, silva, relax.
A nod to the guardians and they stepped back; she made a gesture of welcome to her visitors, beckoning them into the house. She murmured something inane in greeting. A pleasure to have you here, perhaps, restraining herself from telling them to watch the door. Presuming they'd simply follow her inside, she led them to the living room. It was windowless and more of a study than anything else, but uncluttered and quiet, with only the faint hum of a electricity emanating.
Her hand settled over an intricate glass stopper, a bottle of a liquor in a shelf against the wall, with the suggestion of a smile. Glancing at them again, she removed her hand altogether. She wasn't going to apologize for the behavior of her guards, wasn't going to offer them a drink, wasn't going to ask them to show their faces (because wasn't it obvious who they were?). These were thing that were immaterial. They didn't matter.
"I mean no rudeness, but we'll keep this brief." Out of official appearances, where the words she spoke were lined with steel and promised nothing, her natural voice was soft, with an calm evenness. "I have an assignment for you."
| evening. five hundred and seventy-four. damien & kexis
[katya of ote]
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Post by Kexis Ragnarok on Aug 10, 2014 14:04:11 GMT -6
I see you... KEXIS RAGNAROK SPECIALIST - SNIPER NIGHTRAID CODENAME: GHOST
| No noises escaped the sniper, no small tinge of movement to make the guardian question, and her eyes only kept to one thing; his gun. He was holding it oddly.. not wrong, but not right. It was making the back of her throat itch. These men were well-trained, but the one so quick to pull the trigger here was not.. eh, experienced.. It bothered her to no end seeing someone in a uniform shouldering an automatic with his hands the way they were. It would slow him down from aiming in his sights.
Just a small thing, she supposed, that annoyed her. But no one would ever know that from how still and silent she kept. The door opened to the woman Kexis had been watching in the back - taking quick note that she had taken her blazer off from the few minutes passed of when she'd seen her - a clear choice the woman had made regarding the circumstances of Night Raid's arrival. Though Kexis wasn't quite sure why.. to make things seem more casual? To loosen the tension of their coming? To display a lack of fear in their presence? It earned a small head-tilt from the sniper as she honestly attempted in figuring out why. Maybe she was worrying too much.. studying too hard.
As they were welcomed in, she followed the Lieutenant in-line and stopped when he did at his right-hand side. In all honesty, Kexis appreciated the lack of anything but business that came out of the woman's mouth. She stood at attention, hands behind her waist with the large rifle hooked onto her back across her shoulders. An assignment - .. privately contracted? Kexis wasn't aware why they were here, nor who the woman was. All she had been told was that she was accompanying her Lieutenant.. and following his orders. Obviously he knew the reason why they'd been called here. What was the sniper's part in this?... Kexis looked once over to Damien before looking back to the woman - just a small tilt of the head - and awaited further instruction.
coded by LILITH of ADOXOGRAPHY
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Post by Tacey Epona on Aug 10, 2014 18:52:46 GMT -6
I DON'T need the promise of
HEAVEN. | The woman was the daughter of a military veteran, one retired long before she had taken office, and of a doctor within Shinsoo Medical, Summer, wasn't it?, whom Tacey had met less than a handful of times. A work-a-holic as far as the rumors went, apparently quite reserved, not unlike Kexis. The sniper was everything that her file had proclaimed her to be - skilled, quiet, obedient, a perfect soldier. A definite contrast to her brother, the permanent smear on their family's name; if she began to act out, Tacey expected she'd see the inside of prison cell sooner than a written reprimand.
Her lips quirked in the suggestion of a smile. Ragnarok and his group had evaded them for years, categorically attacking any facility tangentially associated with the donor program. She could remember the man's first attack. For a few months, she had worked as support for the team assigned to track them. But when they had turned up with exactly jack-shit on the terrorists she gave them a pretty smile and transferred. How ironic. One sibling giving his best to destroy the program, the other assigned to keep it from ever being exposed.
Tacey said a social nicety to the Lieutenant, barely listening to her words. The man had cursory information, in regard to the mission, but it would serve him little to sit through her briefing. She gestured for the sniper to follow her into the attached office, a proper one, expecting she'd attend. She left the door cracked behind them, the current weather showing on the smooth black panel embedded in it.
She leaned against her desk, fingers gripping the edge, her jewelry clinking softly. "Everything I say to you is in complete confidence, as I'm sure you understand," Tacey began, trying to keep the exhaustion out of her voice with limited success. "A short time ago, there was an incident at...well, before I continue, I'll assure you that you receiving this assignment is entirely due to your skills and is unrelated to any personal history." A warning of a thunderstorm appeared in neat white letters on the door, rain tapping on the walls as if in evidence.
"There was a complication at a facility specifically used by the HDI." The Humane Donation Initiative, an archaic title; it was much more commonly known as the Aquavian donor program. "A donor escaped. We need her back."
| evening. four hundred and two. kexis
[katya of ote]
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Post by Kexis Ragnarok on Aug 10, 2014 19:21:43 GMT -6
I see you... KEXIS RAGNAROK SPECIALIST - SNIPER NIGHTRAID CODENAME: GHOST
| Kexis' visor dimmed slightly from underneath - easing up on the artificial light that it kept her seeing clearly outdoors. Bright night vision didn't exactly help her any to see within this home. When she gave a small smile, the sniper's expression underneath became rather intrigued. What, within the silence between the three in the room, could have caused it? There were plenty of things about this woman she had no briefing on that she was trying to piece together. An important figure, obviously. Governmental? Military? Scientific? An economic icon? Her fingers beckoned Kexis forward, strictly only looking at her and not her superior. She cast a quick glance up at the Lieutenant again who only gave her a strict nod and a chin point to go on ahead. Was this her purpose then? It seemed like the woman wasn't the one who needed escorting.. rather, the sniper herself to a next mission. An interest fueled her slight curiosity as she stepped forward quietly through the large room and towards the office door. Though the woman had left it cracked an inch, she shut it politely behind her. "Everything I say to you is in complete confidence, as I'm sure you understand."
This earned a nod from the sniper - her hands once again going behind her back at attention. Yes, she understood confidence.. "Mine is not to question why," she finally spoke out. The voice was plain, answering, submissive. If anything, it only reassured her loyalty to the militaristic cause and to orders themselves."A short time ago, there was an incident at...well, before I continue, I'll assure you that you receiving this assignment is entirely due to your skills and is unrelated to any personal history." Kexis mouth barely twitched in response. Again, even though it was apparently making no 'relation' to this mission, her traitor-brother seemed to haunt her. Without him?.. She would have been well-known within the ranks of the Spec-Ops already. But her name was no longer trusted. Soiled. Muddied. It was obvious, now, that the woman had already looked into her file. The need for identity mattered little, now, and as a sign of respect in front of the current-ordering other individual at the desk, Kexis put her hands to the sides of her visor and pressed down two buttons simultaneously before it shrunk and folded away down towards the back of her head and sides of her jaw. She was face-exposed now, brown dreadlocks tight against her head, skin tanned, and grey eyes gazing forward. The opposite of her brother's appearance.. as far as she could make it. "There was a complication at a facility specifically used by the HDI. A donor escaped. We need her back."
An escapee.. it made sense now. One sniper, confidentiality, tracking and hunting down a single target. It was quiet and efficient without alerting any press or grabbing any attention towards the HDI. Kill the loose ember.. and no flame would start to bring light to the situation. Well, she assumed she would be dead. But that wasn't her call. The sniper nodded and let her eyes slide over her shoulder a bit to the storm warning before looking back to her new 'buyer'. "Then you will have it back. What skills of mine do you require?" Sniping.. camouflage.. tracking.. a bullet through the skull, a dart in the neck? coded by LILITH of ADOXOGRAPHY
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