Post by altogemini on Jul 4, 2021 7:14:39 GMT
UNTIL MIDNIGHT
A roleplay centered around field operatives and spy-craft to infiltrate, and dismantle external threats.
A roleplay centered around field operatives and spy-craft to infiltrate, and dismantle external threats.
He'd lower himself down on the ground, as quietly as possible, as he slowly let go of the ceiling pipe. Carefully transitioning into a crouch, he'd push his pistol out - pausing for a moment to let his night vision adjust to the barely-lit passageway. Identifying a plain door at the end, he'd make his way towards it. The several months of training, and years of experience teaching him to stick to the unlit part of the wall. 'Darkness is concealment,' he'd repeat himself as he'd monitor his breathing. Offset to the door, he'd press his ear against its cold surface holding his breath to hear on the other side. Nothing but the hum and occasional mechanical whirr of an air conditioning unit. Leaning backward, and resting against the wall he'd slip off a long and thin case going the length of his lower right back. Lifting its magnetic lock, he'd take out a gadget: flexible steel beginning with a poly rubber grip and ending with a small ball camera. Slipping the device underneath the door, he'd use his free hand to take out a smartphone-looking device. Another tool of his craft, he'd use it to connect to the camera. Going from left to right, he swept the room, from rows of shelves holding boxes he'd see the only currently lit part of the room. What looked like the back of a desk, a Kzyri guard stood with his back turned filling in a booklet. Unarmed, and too far to hear the door turn.
Kevlar gloves slowly gripping the doorknob and twisting carefully. The blast of cool air greeting him, as he trained his pistol towards the guard. Closing the door behind him, he'd look up and identify a single solitary C.C.T.V camera posted high on a wall. He'd edge along with his back to the wall, headed towards the rear, as low and slow as possible. Barely distinguishable only with the help of his NVGs, he'd read the Kzyrigi characters for "ACCOUNTING" printed across a plastic slab for a particular set of shelves. Crouched, he'd place one hand on the floor, rolling into the row to conceal himself. Immediately laying prone, crawling to the edge of a shelf and peeking. The guard stood with his back turned, oblivious. Military installations such as this one have their cameras record 24/7, sacrificing quality for length. If the camera even caught him, it'd be nothing more than a strange trick of the shadows. He'd once more pull put the same device he used to connect to the camera, inputting no more than 5 letters.
IPATV
(In Position; Awaiting Target Variables)
He'd wait, reaching two measured breaths before the screen filled with lines of text
...
.......
...ARO FOUNDATION FOR WOUNDED VETERANS...
...BETTER LIVING CENTER...
...CHARITY FOR THE SONS OF THE FALLEN...
...DAMAGED WARRIORS FOUNDATION...
.......
...END
Standing up, he'd holster his pistol as he'd translate the marker handwriting on each of the boxes. 'There we are,' he'd grab onto a particularly heavy cardboard box, sliding it as carefully as he could. One hand supporting the base, and another gripping onto the sides he'd lower the box down. This one was from the Aro Foundation. He'd adjust a small square-ish object located near his shoulder, feeling the top of it until he felt a small indenture dipping his finger. This would activate the hands-free IR/FLIR recorder as he scanned through the documents. Giving each relevant paper enough time for the recorder to catch it, as he'd take photos of particular billings. If intel was correct, and the coordinated work of three agencies wasn't for nothing, shit was going to go down.
That was 9 hours ago. Now he sat on one of those foldable metal chairs, feet propped on the back of another one. He was back in Bildsblau Air Field, in a conference room with a manual projector that belonged to a spy noir B-film. Standing behind that projector, with a curled hand around a Henry University mug was the broad-shouldered, bald figure of Mitch Irons. "Thanks to that paper trail you discovered," Mitch would gesture to the seated spook, "Counter-Terror Finance's working to track and smother all accounts connected." Mitch would take a loud sip from his mug, "Kinda shitty for Kyrigs to finance terror groups through veteran care foundations." The seated spook would nod, "Goddamn rogue state. Though these NGOs run through the entire Hagi subcontinent." That meant while the four NGOs were the end of the pipe, there could be hundreds of scumbags pooling in cash at the start of it. Mitch would tilt his head, "Anyway while that's going on, Ground Branch called in. Gave a 'Nice job, and fuck off.'" It was the in-house euphemism for a reward given followed by a bureaucratic stab in the back. The spook's eyebrow would raise, "What's the 'Nice job?' Mitch would grab a blue paper folder, leaning to hand it over, " R&R, Hotel Samara, Tamira City, you'll get an entire 4 hours rest before you tag-along with a Company field team." The spook would skim over the details, "So...security analyst for an Ashkelon-Kyziri prisoner exchange?" To which Mitch would nod, as the spook looked up "What's the 'Fuck off?" Mitch would simply turn around, turning on the projector and sliding a transcript.
"You'll be sharing the room," Mitch would wave off the spook's groan "Ground Branch deemed it necessary to work with the DS." Mitch would pause as he'd lift the mug to his lips, "The 'Equilibrium of field intelligence and asset sharing' or some other bullshit." The spook would cross his legs as he tilted his head back, "-sake. Alright, when's my ride?" He might as well, no use in arguing, plus four hours rest was a godsend. Giving a light stretch and groan, he'd step forward shaking Mitch's hand. "There's a K-228 waiting for you by the tarmac, you're the only passenger." "Oh, and Tourbridge" Mitch would call out as the spook would turn, half already through the door "Good hunting."
PLOT:
Welcome to the "Until Midnight" universe, a not-so-different mimicry from our own. While the countries are fictional, their identities and convictions are similar. Where you will roleplay as a field operative from the Intelligence Security Service, a national-level intelligence agency under the authority of the Home Office. In contrast to your partner, Alexander Tourbridge works for the Strategic Intervention Agency under the Ground Branch. His organization was pressured by upper external forces to cooperate with another agency in order to fully maximize and leverage state-of-the-art equipment, and infiltration tactics. You operate at the highest level of discretion, your training and selection only yields two percent out of a hundred. If you are captured, your existence would be denied, no attempts to rescue you on paper will be held. You are the shadow of democracy
BACKGROUNDS:
In completing your field operative's biography, I'm going to give you a default background you can either choose verbatim to follow, or take inspiration from. They will also shape your future actions, and attitude to the work you're given. They will act as a framework, and a tidy bit of lore you can use as reference.
SOLDIER
Your exemplary military career made you stand out among a selection of other candidates. Whether you submitted that application yourself, or you were handpicked is knowledge privy only to you. Your father was a military man, and the superintendent for the Horatio Academy for Military Science - which you fondly remember as the "Cadet House." Although it wasn't nepotism that got you into the ranks of your fellow cadets, but through your own abilities. In PT qualifications, soldiering was second nature to you, able to clear any obstacle, able to run faster and longer than any of your peers. Your knowledge of military theory, coupled with detailed observations earned you the grudging respect of your teachers. You graduated top of the class, and commissioned. Your first deployment was your worse. You learned that combat was nothing like the Cadet House, your platoon was always in the forefront of probing attacks to support the tip of the spear. You came back, changed, more mature and less sure. Yet through your actions, hardships, and leadership you received exemplary citation, medals, and honors and your name was fast-tracked as a recruit for the Scout Commando. Your participation in this elite fighting force cemented your reputation, as you participated in forward reconnaissance, direct action, HVT extractions, kicked down doors, and blow up walls. For reasons your own, you switch to field work under the I.S.S, receiving infiltration tactics, passive and active intelligence gathering, and taking several foreign language electives. This is your second field work assignment, while not entirely green, there's a lot more to learn.
CS
Name:
Personality:
Biography:
Appearance: