Difference between revisions of "4824/Requiem for a Corporation"

Latest revision as of 16:36, 29 November 2016

Heinkel Wolfe (Dropped) has posed:
Winter's had a light touch over the mild, sunny Mediterranean. Where most of Europe is buried in snow there's barely been a dusting over St. Peter's Basilica. Tourism throughout Vatican City is booming as usual, while the sun shines, and the place turns into a ghost town when the stars come out.

There are a number of plain, unmarked buildings not found on tourists' maps. One of these unmarked buildings is an apartment, and it's the coordinates to this building that were transmitted, with hefty encryption, to Alexis Maaka.

On arrival, Maaka receives a languid bid to enter from inside, right before she reaches for the doorknob, whether to knock or open. Maybe there are cameras?

Once the door opens it'll reveal a studio apartment. It looks like a place that isn't much lived in, with Spartan furnishings and windows left open to the night breeze. Despite the hour there are no lights on inside. There's also a lineup of houseplants crammed together on the tiny kitchen window's sill, shockingly healthy for a tenant who's never there.

The only real touch of individuality in here is what looks to be a small Catholic altar set up at the far side of the room, with a cluster of candles burning softly beneath a crucifix.

Heinkel herself is sprawled on the apartment's solitary couch, hands folded behind her head, legs crossed one over the other at the knee, one boot braced on the tiny coffee table. She's eschewed her coat for a grey halter top and black fatigue pants. Her iron cross rests conspicuously over her chest, gilded in orange candlelight, tied on its customary thong of leather.

Despite the hour and the darkness, she has a pair of sunglasses over her eyes, which is either a really stupid fashion statement or a significant tell that something's not really normal with this woman. The German grins, visible only by reflected light from her teeth in the gloom.

"Willkommen." Her head tilts, and Heinkel's head faces Maaka more directly. "I'd say 'to my humble abode,' but it's not really humble. Also, it's not really mine. I just borrow it, if you vant to be technical."

Alexis Maaka (571) has posed:
Rome is surprisingly sunny for winter time. Maaka hasn't been to Italy before in her world, but this is definitely much of an improvement. She's kept to the quieter streets even with the city as silent as it is at night, trying to make as little noise as possible as she tracks down Wolfe's apartment.

She's caught off guard slightly when she's bid to enter upon arrival, but she opens the door regardless. On her head is a Santa hat, considering the season it's to be expected, and she's brought wine! It's good wine too, if Heinkel's inclined to drink that stuff.

She isn't surprised to see such modest surroundings for Heinkel, she doesn't seem the type to splurge on her home anyways.

Setting the bottle on the counter, she removes her coat, revealing she's kept those twin pistols sent from Iscariot, holstered at the small of her back. Those come off as well when she hangs up her gun belt, and the gloves follow suit. "Figured I'd bring a gift, Merry Christmas and all." She says, tapping the bottle. "So, schematics were what you wanted to discuss, right?"

Heinkel Wolfe (Dropped) has posed:
The assassin's head tilts up just slightly, and the way it stays there for a few seconds suggests Heinkel might be starind blandly at the cheery red Santa hat. Eventually she shakes her head and flicks a hand at the door, gesturing for her guest to close it.

Although her eyes aren't visible, she does seem to look at the label of the vintage for a long few seconds. Apparently deciding that it's acceptable, she pushes herself up off the couch, reaching for a very plain-looking cupboard to dig out two wine glasses. They're not even all that dusty.

Leaving those on the table, she folds her arms, leaning her hip against the cupboard and tilting her head. "I don't drink too much, und it's vasted on me, but danke. I'll enjoy it." It's hard to get motivated about it when her body outprocesses alcohol faster than it has an effect on her. Regeneration's a pain in the butt. "I'm not much of a Christmas person, but I guess you can consider the pistols a gift."

"That's right. I vant to know the ins and outs of the building." She gestures, folding her arms and raising one hand to push her sunglasses higher onto the bridge of her nose. "You haf a team you're bringing, but I'll be better served if I can infiltrate separate from the others. Sniping is my specialty, although I can handle myself in a firefight, too. If you haf targets that it vould be better to neutralise, I'd be better served pursuing those targets on the side vhile your noisier compatriots get everyone else's attention, ja?"

Alexis Maaka (571) has posed:
"They'll do, they're fine shooters since I modified the grips." Alexis nods, before she opens the bottle. She takes a moment to let the vintage breathe, as she pours herself and Heinkel a glass each. "Cheers." She doesn't really get drunk either unless she switches off her processors, and she keeps them on for the sake of practicality.

Alcohol plus circuits tends to be nasty anyways, just as well she stays sober.

As Heinkel says what she wants, Alexis gets to business. She produces a data pad from her belt, and a holographic display is brought up. The base forms in its entirety, before it zooms onto the entry point. "We're going in through the docks, I got contacts within the Sino-Coalition, China and friends basically, that are gonna be ferrying us in through submarine. We'll be going in through transport pods launched by torpedo just outside of radar range, and those will go too fast for them to lock down borders. We'll be in by the time they're trying to find out what happened." She explains, a diagram of three torpedo-like craft zooming through underwater patrols as a submarine scurries away.

"I had an idea of splitting the team up, Team 1 will go with me to get the package and kill the project lead, Team 2 will be handling the diversion. The base is on a mountainside, which means if we move fast enough we can use the high ground against the on-site personnel. I've got ideas for who'll be on what team, but Team 2 could use you providing overwatch."

A user friendly interface comes up, holographic icons that Heinkel can touch that translate into German for her to read easily. The icons lead to data entries for various weapons, the soldiers using them, unmanned drones, and other security measures.

Heinkel Wolfe (Dropped) has posed:
True to her word, Heinkel opts not to pour herself a glass of wine for the moment. It would be wasted on her. Instead, she rifles through her pockets, producing a cigarette and chrome lighter. The cigarette is lit, the lighter dropped back into her pocket, and her hands follow suit as she takes a generous draw.

"Hunh." She crosses one leg over the other at the ankle, craning her neck to see the holographic torpedoes. "Hope none of the people you're bringing are claustrophobic. That might be a problem."

She reaches out, fingers dancing over the floating icons. Despite technology leaps and bounds beyond the limits of her own world, she navigates it with relative ease and doesn't seem to get hung up on it. She's in full business mode, frowning as she studies the display and systematically flicking through weapons, soldiers, drones, and the building's layout and security measures.

"Uh huh. So you vant me vatching over the team that's going to be making a lot of shit and noise for them. Vell, I guess I can do that, but I vork better if you haf a goal for me to pursue. I prefer to vork alone; I do most of my vork either alone, or in teams of two. Three, at the most." She frowns, rolling the cigarette to the other side of her mouth and exhaling a puff of smoke. "I guess I can vork vit that, though."

Alexis Maaka (571) has posed:
Alexis takes a sip as she listens to Heinkel, nodding. "I pick my teammates carefully when I go on missions." She says.

Heinkel will find a lot of interesting tidbits about the equipment soldiers use, especially weak points where the shoulder and arm meet the torso and gaps in the neck, where armor-piercing rounds will tear through. Robots also tend to be structurally weak around the joints and a few points around the torso area, in gaps between armor plating. Shooting them in the optic sensors will mess with their tracking too.

"Your objective will be to take out priority targets onsite; officers mostly. There's a contingent of combat personnel on the base that are training intensely for winter warfare, which means they count on their armor to keep them alive in subarctic temperatures." Alexis says, taking a sip of wine whether or not it does anything. "That dome in the diagram can adapt to any climate, in this case it stays winter all year. You see those heating packs on the soldiers?" She points to the bulky packs in question, LED lights indicating they're in use. "Those are heating units socketed onto the armor of all personnel operating outside. Shooting there will leave them freezing within seconds, not a good way to go for most people." She says cooly. "But I wouldn't worry about that, Izunagi combat elite tend to get their neural cores extracted if not copied straight up, and implanted into new bodies. Hell, their issued shells aren't even their natural ones." She adds. Awful callous there, Alexis.

"Anyway. Teams 1 and 2 will split up once we get here," The diagram briefly pulls up an umbilical leading from the storage facility to research, that also leads outside to a ridge line wrapping around the mountain. "Team 2, including you, will be busting through the umbilical tunnel and holding the fort on this ridge. You'll get ten minutes to set up any traps and dig in before they send in armor support and combat operatives. I wager their best troops will be sent after you guys, which means some of the local officers will be going in as well. They hire special forces veterans and mercenaries of high renown, which means taking them out will fuck up morale."

She eyes that cigarette for a moment, before she produces a Cuban cigar and unwraps it, a clipping snipping off the end as she takes a sniff. "By the way, mind if I borrow your lighter?" asks Alexis, as she bites down on the other end of the stogie.

Heinkel Wolfe (Dropped) has posed:
The blonde arches a brow at the mercenary's explanation. Hopefully, this means that there won't be any trigger-happy glory hounds coming along, because there's no place for that kind of nonsense in a mission like this. The clock is going to be ticking.

Folding her arms, she leans closer to study the corporate armour. The heating packs are also given a close look, exhaling a wreath of smoke through the hologram. "So cripple them in the snow, and then leave them for the cold. Can do that. The thermal packs look like they'll be nice, obvious targets. Easier than aiming for a ghoul's heart."

"High ground. That's good." Heinkel lowers her cigarette, tapping it into a nearby ashtray on the table. "I can fight on low ground, but it's easier to pick off targets from on high. Ten minutes is more than I need to get my equipment set up." A hand is flicked at the sniper rifle in its case. It looks like a Dragunov SVD; too recent to be a proper antique, and not quite old enough to be obsolete. She at least takes excellent care of it. "As long as nobody gets in my vay vhile I'm making my preparations, that should be fine."

She looks down, reaching into her pocket and tossing the lighter to Maaka. It's surprisingly heavy, chromed and etched with the seal of Section XIII on both sides. "Here." Catch.

Alexis Maaka (571) has posed:
Alexis is certain she'll keep a hold on any ego going about on-site, but thankfully the team she's assembled might be able to police themselves. She catches the lighter without missing a beat, and lights up the cigar with a puff of her cheeks. The cigar has a pleasant smell to it, and Maaka makes a satisfied noise as she lights up. "Thanks," She mutters, handing the lighter back.

"Yeah, I got a contact named Elise Leroy who'll be coming with us. She's a damn good shot, a goddamn artist with a sniper rifle. I'd be with you two, but I gotta be with Team 1." Shrug. "Anyhow. Devon-7 and that robot ninja guy...the non-cowboy one, will be mopping up hostiles in close-quarters. I also got Reina Kinney for tanking enemies, I may have room for a few of Elise's people as well. I trust XCOM not to fuck up, even if this isn't exactly fighting aliens. Reina on the other hand..." She makes a face and shrugs.

Hopefully you got a suppressor you can use for that Dragonov, by the by. If not, I..." She pauses, and mentally goes through her inventory. Literally no less, she has a list of equipment in her manipulator thanks to databanks. "I'll be issuing PDWs with suppressors to anybody who lacks a means of stealth anyways, not like the movies where you're just invisible but they're useful regardless."

Heinkel Wolfe (Dropped) has posed:
"Hunh." Heinkel grunts in response to the thanks, taking the lighter back and dropping it into her pocket. Most of the time she prefers matches, but this apartment isn't stocked with anything. There's not even any food here.

She glances back at the Dragunov. "Ja, I haf a suppressor," she adds, pulling a face. "Vhat kind of idiot vould I be if I didn't haf suppressors for all my equipiment? They von't hear anything. And I'm not stupid enough to hang about the area vonce I fire the first shot. Ghouls are von thing, but live targets... they'll be looking for vhere that first shot came from. I don't intend to let them find out."

Returning to the cupboard, she leans her hip against it, comfortably, tapping ash into a second ashtray. She might not keep any food in the apartment, but there are at least ashtrays. "Nobody's invisible. But I haf every intention of getting as close to that as I can."

Alexis Maaka (571) has posed:
"No worries," Alexis grins. She pulls out a device that's meant to clip onto a belt. "Everyone who needs it will be wearing stealth gear, they come standard with optic camo that blends with the environment. May be a bit snug but they'll keep you warm."

She nods as Heinkel confirms having the other gear. "Regardless, gear's not my issue, I'd be spoiling you guys but the Sinos tend to be stingy with their gear when they share with people. They maaaay ask for the suits back afterwards."

She takes another puff on her cigar, enjoying the scent of tobacco. "You got any other questions since we're here? May as well, I try to be an open book when I'm working with comrades."

Heinkel Wolfe (Dropped) has posed:
"I don't know if I'll need it, but it couldn't hurt to take it anyvay. Worth it just to keep from freezing." Heinkel folds her arms, letting her cigarette dangle from her lower lip a little. "I von't need to keep it, so I don't care about giving it back. If I vant to stay varm, I vear a coat. If I don't vant to be seen, I exercise a little common sense." One hand uncrosses to tap the side of her head with a forefinger.

Her head turns to face the displays again, and she frowns. "Ja, I do, actually. They're going to be up in arms by the time ve're ready to get out, and they're not going to vant to let us go after vhat ve do in there." A hand is flicked vaguely at the display. "Vhat's our exit strategy going to be?"

Alexis Maaka (571) has posed:
Alexis nods. "It's also a wetsuit, so you may need it for this op." She says, before the data pad projects specs on the suits proper. They look like a mix between Colonel Snake's old sneaking suits and modern wetsuits, with web gear for holstering equipment.

"I was gonna get to that." She says, before she produces a device from her manipulator. "It's a teleport beacon, links up to my ship. We'll be going to the furthest edge of the cliff peak before we teleport to the Crimson Spectre, my starship. By the time we're there we'll be off world and they won't know where we ran off to. Crazy, but it'll work."

Heinkel Wolfe (Dropped) has posed:
The paladin looks over the specs on the suit with some disdain, although it's easy to hide it when her eyes aren't visible. It's hard not to feel naked without her coat. It's more than a coat; it was a gift from Psyber, and it has all kinds of convenient features that can't be found in others, like hammerspace pockets and subtle enchantments that bring its weave up to the level of light armour.

"Crazy, ja." Heinkel rubs at her jaw with one hand, speculative. "I don't know if I like trusting in something like that, but if that's vhat ve haf, then that's vhat ve haf. If you're sure they don't haf some vay to jam something like that, than I guess it's faster than anything else ve can use. And involves less blood."

She rubs her jaw some more and eyes the schematics a little longer. The question is, would it be easier to snipe these targets from a comfortable distance, or would it be easier to go in close? There are a few options she could entertain, but can she trust herself to fight up close without repercussions?

Heinkel eventually shrugs, stubbing the remnants of her cigarette into the ashtray, and neatly lighting herself another without any apparent guilt. "I think that's about all I haf for now. You got any questions yourself? Now's as good a time as any for that kind of thing, ja?"

Alexis Maaka (571) has posed:
"Gonna only work once, so we may as well make it count." Alexis says, shrugging. She has a similar coat, albeit without the benefit of hammerspace pockets. Those pockets do make hiding an SMG or a sawed-off shotgun easy however, which is nice.

She thinks, as she's questioned about questions, before she finally speaks, exhaling smoke. "Only one; How long have you been working for the Church? I can't imagine you to be green in any way, shape, or form that's for sure."

Heinkel Wolfe (Dropped) has posed:
Never mind that the coat is stylish, and works well as a substitute for a priest's robe. In most cases, that's exactly how she wears it, with her starched collar sticking up from beneath the coat's collar. It's a lot easier to carry things around that way without having to worry about cargo space or being too conspicuous.

"Hunh." Sighing, she glances at the schematic. "You know, if someone told me five years ago I'd be teleporting around like something out of that von American sci-fi television programme, I'd haf told them they're delusional. Alright, so that's our exit strategy. It vorks. At least, it had better vork."

Folding her arms, Heinkel taps ash from the second cigarette before taking another unhurried drag. She seems to consider the question for a few minutes, rolling the cigarette from one side of her mouth to the other as though in contemplation. "Iscariot? Hunh."

She frowns, as though doing some mental math. "I actually hafen't thought about that too much... I think I vas thirty... nein, that's not enough time." Heinkel snorts smoke. "It vas eleven years ago, I think."

"Ja. Eleven years ago." Curiously, she doesn't look a day over thirty. "I vas a professional mercenary before they recruited me. A lot of Iscariots vere raised by the church, but not me."

Alexis Maaka (571) has posed:
Alexis laughs, "Yeah, this coming from the cyborg. Even my world doesn't have that kind of tech yet, we're still trying to crack the folding space...you know what, never mind." She says, taking the cigar out of her mouth briefly.

She nods as Heinkel explains herself, thinking. "Yeah, I've been doing this for about fourteen years or so. I'm 27 now, so I was thirteen when they made me...well, let's just say puberty was interesting. I had a couple shells before this one, mostly upgrading if not outright replacing components of myself. I guess it's kind of the same thing, in a fucked up way." She muses, shrugging. "Where'd you work before you joined Iscariot, if I may ask? Had no idea you were the mercenary sort, figured you as a professional regardless, possibly military."

Heinkel Wolfe (Dropped) has posed:
"Twenty-seven?" Heinkel raises a brow, raising her cigarette for another draw. She seems to study the mercenary for a few minutes, as though she were running some kind of mental calculations, or maybe sizing her up in light of new information. "Hunh."

She folds her arms once she returns the cigarette to her mouth, idly tapping forefingers against the opposite forearm. "I didn't haf a job vit the military. I vas a professional assassin, and I did most of my vork for competing criminal elements. I vas recruited by Iscariot a little later."

She splays the fingers of one hand, as though ticking off some mental math on them. "I had my first contract vhen I vas sixteen, although I could've done the vork before that. That's just vhen they trusted me to do the vork."

"I vas shot on a job ten years after that, here und here." She points to a spot just below her ribs on the right side, and then the opposite hip. "I vas in pretty bad shape; and I'm pretty sure I vould haf died if I hadn't managed to find sanctuary in the nearest church. It vas in Brugge, in Brussels; the sisters took me in and called in a doctor-friend to pull out the bullets und sew me back up."

She leans back against the cupboard, twisting and stubbing out the remnants of the second cigarette. This time she doesn't light another. "They vere able to rehabilitate me, mostly, so I put my rifle avay and decided to take care of the grounds and garden for them. Early retirement. I vasn't interested in going out there and getting shot again, because next time whoever vanted me dead vasn't going to miss."

"As for Iscariot... that vas about ten years ago, give or take. I vas still valking vit a cane vhen Chief, I mean Bishop Enrico Maxvell, approached me the first time. I turned him down, so he sent Father Alexander Anderson. I relented and accepted their offer." She frowns, as though mentally checking her numbers. "I vas... about your age, actually; a little younger. I've been vit them since. Technically, I do haf the credentials of a priest, too, but it's more appropriate to say I'm a paladin. A varrior of God."

She shrugs. "It's not glamourous vork, but then again, that's not vhat I signed up for. Iscariot doesn't even exist, officially. Ve hunt down and dispatch threats to our flock of the faithful. It might be freaks von day, or ghouls the next; although I hafen't heard of anyvon killing any verevolfs lately." Heinkel scratches at her jaw. "In fact I'm not sure if there are any of those left."

"Anyvay, some people might look at my past history and think I haf no ties to the church, but that's not true, either. I just don't haf the same... zeal... as Chief, or Father Anderson." She shrugs. "It vould be a mistake to say that I don't beliefe in vhat I'm doing."

Alexis Maaka (571) has posed:
Alexis listens intently, rolling the cigar around in her mouth as she listens. "You were a busy one, that's for sure." She muses quietly, folding her arms. Her eyes make small whirring sounds, it's creepy how they bridge the gap between cybernetic optics and realistic eyes, as they autofocus.

"I can't imagine you settling down to be honest. I guess you got lucky they had a place for you after all." She says, looking where Heinkel points. It's weird, Maaka can't really point to any one place she's been injured where it mattered, maybe a lost arm or getting shot with a high-velocity rifle, but she only has faint scars now.

"What we do isn't supposed to be glamorous. We're the people who get the job done, no pomp and circumstance. Just the way I prefer it, myself." She muses.

"When I look at you, I don't doubt for a second you believe in what you're doing, regardless of zeal or no." She offers a faint smile, before she puffs the cigar. "Anyhow. I guess, I guess I must raise a lot of questions just by existing...and I don't get a chance to talk about myself often either."

Shrug. "Though honestly that might be better explained when we got everyone around for the briefing." She says.

Heinkel Wolfe (Dropped) has posed:
Heinkel shifts to lean against the wall, folding her hands behind her head. If she's unsettled by the mechanical nature of the eyes, she doesn't comment on it at all; the fact that her own eyes are completely hidden is probably not really comforting for Maaka, either. Neither does she seem to have any trouble whatsoever seeing anything – her motions aren't cautious at all, and she had no trouble reading Maaka's diagnostics.

"Busy? Nein, nein. Busy would haf been taking jobs vhile I vas recovering. I probably should haf been a cripple, but those sisters had some good contacts." The scar aren't visible under her clothing, and she doesn't seem to exhibit any particular weakness when it comes to the old wounds.

What's visible is a broad splash of scar tissue over the left side of her neck. It looks suspiciouly like a bite mark from jaws that must have been truly gargantuan, and the sheer area covered looks like it should have been a lethal wound. Heinkel raises a hand to rub at the paled, knotted flesh absently in unconscious gesture. "Hunh."

"Settling down? I vouldn't mind so much. This kind of vork is exhausting, even if there's no von else to do it... but you're right. I'd get stir-crazy after a few years, probably." The blonde folds her other arm, elbow braced against hip, still rubbing at that broad stripe of scar. "Didn't haf much choice, back vhen I vas put out of commission. I couldn't haf fired a gun even if I vanted to. I could barely valk even vit a cane."

Heinkel flashes that sharp-edged grin, thumbing at the plants on the window sill. "Got pretty handy vit plants, though. Don't need to vorry about them up and running off on you."

"Really? Some people at me and they still see just a mercenary." With a half-smile, she lets her hand drop from the scar at her neck, folding her arms. "Not that I care. I do vhat I do, vit or vitout their input... and not really. Ve don't haf that kind of technology here, but I hear it's a thing that happens in the Union." She points to indicate Maaka's ocular lenses. "Cyborgs. Our technology's not quite there, but ve haf machinery meant to vork in the body. Devices for keeping a steady heartbeat, and that sort of thing. Prosthetics for those who've lost their limbs to accident or injury." She waves her cigarette to underscore her point.

She shrugs. "Vhat you haf is leaps and bounds ahead of the technology of my vorld, but I could see it happening, in a few decades, maybe." Heinkel eyes the mercenary speculatively. "I vouldn't go for it, myself, but to each his own. But ve're a little touchy about vhat ve consider human and vhat ve don't." She grins that mirthless grin, eyes still blocked by the lenses. "After all, half of us are like monsters."

"Some people might think ve're the monsters. Ist that true?" That grin widens into something altogether more predatory; an expression that wouldn't be too alien to a wolf that just cornered a rabbit. "Maybe."

Alexis Maaka (571) has posed:
Alexis looks over Heinkel, especially glancing at the scar she sees brief glimpses of. She seems more curious as to how Heinkel is pulling off the 'face masked in shadow' thing, than being worried at the lack of seeing her eyes.

"Well, I wouldn't be opposed to retirement either, maybe in a few years. I don't see myself settling down until I'm in my forties, honestly, but as long as I get maintenance, I'm pretty sure I'll be living a lonnnnng time." She thinks, before she quirks a brow. "How'd they fix you if you were that badly injured?"

"I...let's just say what the Izunagi did to me wasn't by choice. They took away my old life, blamed terrorists, and turned me into a killing machine. I found out when I was twenty-three, and just...I dunno, I did a lot of damage to them before I bailed entirely. I went dark, before I went to Hong Kong and got work there, as a mercenary for the reigning boss Zhen-Zhen Zhang." She sits back, looking both wistful and melancholic at the same time as she thinks back.

"You'll get to meet Zhang in time, everyone will. She's...she kind of helped me get on my feet, taught me to always be looking for the next job. Guess working for her gave me some perspective, otherwise I'd have gone crazy and got cornered by the Izunagi's SAINT unit."

The grin Heinkel gives makes her blood chill briefly, but she doesn't seem to disagree. "I'm used to being seen as the monster myself, I know the feeling. I guess it doesn't matter long as people like us do what we can for something productive, even if we're too busy doing black ops. I like what I do, long as I got a cause behind it. The Union might've gotten to me after all, if not people like Kotone and Rory."

Heinkel Wolfe (Dropped) has posed:
"I'll consider myself lucky if I live that long." Heinkel shows her teeth again, cigarette pinched between her canines. "I vas never really expecting to make it past thirty, to be honest. I might actually hit forty, and that's pretty surreal to me. Von of these days, it'll all catch up to me, I'm sure."

She stubs the end of her cigarette in the ashtray but doesn't quite put it out, looking out the window again. "Surgery," she offers, shrugging. "Lots und lots of surgery. They had to get the bullets out somehow, and that doctor friend of theirs vas really good at her job, and villing to vork vitout asking too many questions. Then they had to do more surgery, because the bullets had done a lot of damage. I'd lost a lot of blood by the time I got to the church itself."

"Right here." She reaches down, pulling the edge of her halter top up to show a round scar just under her ribs, faded and white. She thumbs the waistband of her fatigues down to show the matching scar at her hip, which looks like it was considerably more severe. "I could haf had it vorse. They missed my head, and they missed my heart, and there vasn't any serious nerve damage. If they'd taken out an eye or my hand or my arm, that vould haf been it for my sort of vork. 'Course, if they'd hit me in the eye, I'd probably be dead anyvay."

She's not superhuman, despite the appearances of certain associates of hers. Anderson is an exception to the general rule. Her arms return to folding. "Sounds tough," she says, though not without sympathy. "At least you vere able to take control of your own life. Maybe you'll haf a chance to meet some of Iscariot's paladins. My usual partner is Yumiko Takagi, and Yumie; von's a mild-mannered nun, and the other is a berserker. Nobody else has the patience to deal vit the latter."

"I guess I should mention they're the same person," she adds, with that toothy grin. "Yumie has vhat they call disassociative identity disorder. Yumiko's a pacifist and Yumie throws herself into the bloody mess right by my side. More so, in fact. She vields a katana. It gets messy." Fingers drum against the opposite forearm. "She vas raised in Vales, from vhat I can tell, but she's Japanese by descent. Yumiko vears glasses; Yumie doesn't. I can influence vhich of the two is avake. Yumie and Yumiko both respect me; I see them as two different personalities, and they appreciate not being trivialised as a 'disorder' or a 'fluke.'"

She tilts her head, the directness of her stare betraying where her eyes are – she's looking directly at Maaka. "Zhang sounds like an interesting character. Chances are I'fe known some paladins like that," she muses. "SAINT? Heh." The paladin snorts. "Cute acronym, but I bet they haf no connection to anything even remotely pious. It really pisses me off vhen people use that kind of symbolism in vain. People are going to do vhat they're going to do, but... God, it's so tasteless and pretentious."

Folding her arms behind her head again, she leans back against the wall, as at ease there as if she were sitting on the couch. Her head remains pointed straight at Maaka for a few long moments, as though she were considering something. "Guess I haf von more thing I should probably share..."

Alexis Maaka (571) has posed:
"Yeah, the Izunagi tends to be pretty pretentious. It's Special Augmented...fuck it, I don't even care anymore what it means." Alexis makes a face. "But yeah, they're only still kicking because their cybernetics tech is something everyone needs and wants, they're monopolizing the whole thing."

She puffs on her cigar again, and grins. "You'll like Zhang. She's...she's a very special case of Triad, I'll say that much. Long as folks pay their taxes, she tends to be pretty protective of her people, and her reach is pretty far across Hong Kong. I'd know, she's had me kick doors down to deal with the pricks who thought they could horseplay with her girls and get away with it. She used to be the mistress of the last guy that ran her organization, and even then she'd borne six kids, and was already helping him run the outfit up until a car bomb maimed her, and killed him."

Puff puff. "Her revenge was...'colorful' to say the least. For a gangster, she's a fan of the old fashioned wrath of God type of stuff when it comes to personal vendettas."

Before she gets off-track, Alexis stops herself, and cocks an eyebrow as she stubs her cigar in a tray, assuming there is one. "What's up, Wolfe?"

Heinkel Wolfe (Dropped) has posed:
"Our Sections are named after the apostles." Heinkel stubs her cigarette around the ashtray, head dropped as though to watch. "The vons I vork vit most are Section III, John, in charge of information distribution and suppression, and Section II, Matthew, in charge of retrieving relics of the Church. They catalogue, store, and requisition out relics as they're needed, vhich sometimes they are."

Lifting her cigarette, Heinkel drawing the last of it and carefully stubbing the remainder out with slow deliberation. "You'll probably meet some of them, at some point, if they continue to haf me vorking jobs vit multiversal help."

The paladin steps away from the cupboard, facing Maaka fully once the smoke fades away. "I'll be right back."

With that, she trudges over to the small bathroom, and emerges a few minutes later in an appropriately fuzzy bathrobe, feet bare, still tying the sash off as she heads for the windows and flips the blinds closed on each one.

"Stay vhere you're sitting. And try not to make any noise. This apartment building isn't even supposed to exist," she adds, dryly. "I von't hurt you, and I haf full control of vhat I'm about to do."

With that, apartment plunged into total darkness but for the candles, she pulls off her sunglasses and sets them on the cupboard.

When she turns around to face Maaka again, the eyes that peer out from her face look more suited to a cat or beast than a human's – the pupils are round, but they throw back candlelight in far more measure than a human's should. It's more accurate to say they reflect than to say that they shine; catching the candlelight and flaring blue-white, perfect crescents of irises in the gloom.

Heinkel grins.

And something in her seems subtly different. Something changes; then, in the blink of an eye, form blurring and hunching over. The bathrobe flutters to the floor, and standing over it—

A wolf, stepping delicately over the robe, claws clicking on the floor, and settling down with all the fastidiousness of a cat, ears perked forward, head cocked slightly, those same blue-white eyes flaring in the candlelight and fixed firmly on Maaka.

Heinkel somehow manages to bare her teeth, tongue lolling.

I told you I work better alone.

Her mouth never moves, and there's no voice to speak of, but her intent is somehow clear all the same.

Alexis Maaka (571) has posed:
Alexis cocks an eyebrow. I guess that would make sense, now that she thinks about it. At the least this makes a good refresher for the whole religion thing.

"I look forward to meeting the gang, at this rate. Should be interesting." She says, before she watches Heinkel walk off.

Crimson brows raise as Heinkel returns in a bathrobe, and she tilts her head, but remains still and silent as the grave. Thankfully she doesn't scare easily, as Heinkel can tell with what comes next.

Then Heinkel shapeshfits. Maaka's eyes widen, but she keeps the cigar in her mouth, and suddenly before her very eyes Wolfe becomes an actual wolf.

It's nowhere near like the movies, not even the ones where the transformation is horrifying and painful looking.

She doesn't' dare break eye contact, and she stays stone still regardless. "...wow." she whispers, awed and visibly surprised at the same time.

Heinkel Wolfe (Dropped) has posed:
There's no pain to the transformation, and no apparent discomfort. It happens easily and smoothly, like slipping on a pair of favourite blue jeans. The change is quick, too; too quick to see any details in the instant between the bathrobe falling and the woman dropping down to her hands and knees.

Hands and knees become paws, hard paws with short claws and leathery pads. The snout is blunt, with too much of a broad muzzle and Roman nose to be mistaken for a dog. Never mind her size – even for a wolf, she's massive, with muscle beneath the hide, and fur of a colour somewhere between ruddy and sandy, a few shades darker than her hair. Only the eyes are the same, that blue hue just a few shades shy of blind white.

When she stands, she's at least four feet tall, and looks solid despite a fluffy winter coat; enough to knock someone down, and do serious damage with those teeth.

Heinkel grins, red tongue lolling.

See, this is why I love the multiverse. You learn something new every day. She shuts her jaws, standing and padding closer to Maaka. My eyes are better the other way, but I have to have those lenses. I can see in daylight like this, but my eyes aren't as good. I can't see any colours right now, and it's hard to focus when things aren't moving.

She sits down again, fastidious as a cat, tail curling loosely around a hind leg. I can smell and hear better than any human, though. It's been this way for seven years. Iscariot never gave up on me, even when I became one of the very things we're sworn to kill, and that's why I'll never give up on them.

By the way, as far as you know, you're just hallucinating. This doesn't exist any more than Iscariot does. Even to Iscariot, what I am is a closely-guarded secret. Yumie, Father Anderson, and Bishop Maxwell are the only ones who know about it. There weren't any witnesses when I was attacked. Her ears flick back. And there weren't any witnesses when I changed except for Yumie and Father Anderson.

If I can get in there alone, I can deal with your targets and neutralise them. It'll be much faster if you send me in alone, to a tertiary target if necessary. Nobody else has a nose like mine, and nobody else can hear them breathing like I can.

Alexis Maaka (571) has posed:
"I feel special." Alexis says, keeping her cool to an admirable extend as she watches the wolf before her stand on hind legs. She's surprised Iscariot hadn't dealt with her, but then again, it'd be a waste of a perfectly good asset; Helps that being a wolf tends to have their own uses anyways. She imagines Heinkel's senses are very improved in this form, if they're not like that anyways.

"Alright, then. I'm convinced. If you have a shot, I want you taking out any officers you see, whether with fang or bullet. They won't see a wolf coming, that's for sure." She says calmly.

"There's one guy on-site who'll relish a chance to get some action; A Commander Rossovich. He's former Spetsnaz and a real piece of work, you'll know when you see him." She says, before on cue, the holographic display reveals a profile of the Russian.

He's forty-something, with icy blue eyes and platinum blond hair, a real Aryan ideal if not for his Russian background. His cybernetic enhancements are evident by the glow of his blue eyes, and also footage of him swiftly and viciously clearing rooms personally along with his subordinates, assault rifle blazing as he tracks targets through walls and shreds, ripping one unfortunate insurgent through thin drywall and concrete. His armor's distinctive, with a sickle in lieu of a combat knife as well as red and white stripes.

"His unit's the one that's currently posted in the facility, handling security when they're not training in the dome. They're hardcore, to say the least."

Heinkel Wolfe (Dropped) has posed:
Don't fool yourself. Heinkel opens her jaws, showing her teeth, though the slant of her eyes suggests it's more of a languid expression. A sardonic half-smile, if she still had human features. I'm only showing you this because the mongrel's bound to be out of the bag sooner rather than later. My ability to track targets is superior in this form. And it would be less of a risk to fall back on this for your mission than not.

The smile vanishes, and she licks her nose in distinctly lupine gesture. This is what I am, now. Seven years ago, I was bitten by a lycanthrope. I won't say 'werewolf.' Even those Protestant fools in Hellsing think there aren't any of those left. She can't help a grin, showing teeth again. This still has its uses. And this is still a liability.

Very well. I'll track this Rossovich. She licks her nose again, one ear swivelling forward and the other back as she considers. If they're handling security, they're bound to be bored between training drills. If they're bored between training drills, and if they're half as bloodthirsty as that footage suggests, then manipulating them should be easy.

That blunt muzzle drops, and tiny whiskers stand out as the candlelight catches them. There's a slight frosting of grey around her nose, but it seems to be more natural colouration than any sign of age. Licking her chops, she considers what she's read of the facility, and the footage she was just shown. I'll see if I can isolate him. Damn shame you can't store olfactory data on that device of yours. If I were familiar with his scent, I could know ahead of time.

Whatever. It's not a problem. Bowing and stretching, she stands again, and in the blink of an eye she's shifted again, scooping up the robe and shrugging into it with a practised motion. By the time there's any time to register what's happened, she's already tying the sash again.

She opens a drawer on the cupboard, reaching for another cigarette and lighting it with another lighter stashed in the drawer. Dropping the lighter onto the cupboard surface next to her sunglasses, she glances back at Maaka, arching a brow. "Oh, and don't turn the lights on." She taps a finger at the corner of her eyes, which flash as the candlelight catches them. "It's something of a problem. I vas always light-sensitive, but vhen I was cursed, it got bad enough that I haf to haf special lenses if there's much light. I can deal vit moonlight and candlelight, and it doesn't bother me as much in that form. But like this, I guess it's a trade-off."

"Vell," she says, puffing on her cigarette, "that, and controlling the beast. Father Anderson's the reason I'm not just another slavering rabid monster to be put down by Iscariot. But it's a constant tug-of-var. The part of me that turned into that thing... it isn't human. It isn't me. I can feel it in my head, sometimes; in my heart. I constantly haf to prove to it that I'm the stronger von."

Alexis Maaka (571) has posed:
Aleixs shrugs. "I'm the girl who won't say squat. NDAs are what they are, and the Iscariot sent me plenty of those when I got signed up for this little contract." She says calmly.

She taps her chin, before she snaps her fingers. "He does like his vodka, if you're familiar with the scent. Might be strong enough for you to smell through his helmet if you can, though he does go without the mask. Macho bullshit, really. He likes to dare his enemies to take a shot at him, and considering the climate it's a show of how augmented he is."

She tries to let Heinkel have her modesty, looking away as she shifts back and ties her robe back on, only turning back when she knows the Paladin's back in human form again.

"Anderson sounds like a hard case, if what I hear about him is true. I'd hate to be in his way on a hunt." She remarks. "The fact you're still sane says it all about your will, if you ask me." Standing to her feet, she stubs out the cigar and finishes her wine. The rest can be saved for later, assuming Heinkel ever invites company. "You can keep that data pad, by the way, or I can send you a copy of the files for future study." Alexis offers.

Heinkel Wolfe (Dropped) has posed:
"Tracking a single man or voman because they happen to drink vodka is like telling me to track a single drop of vater through the ocean," Heinkel scoffs. "I'll do my best, but I'll probably haf better luck vonce I actually see him. If I'm that close, I can smell vhat he smells like."

Heinkel taps the side of her nose. "I can't really explain it to somevon who hasn't got that frame of reference, unfortunately, but everybody has a scent. You, me... though you smell more... artificial, to me, if that makes any sense."

"Doesn't vear his helmet?" Heinkel smiles. It's not a pretty expression. "That just makes my job easier. If I can pick him off, I vill; if I can't, I'll get in close." And tear his throat out, is the unspoken implication. "Either vay, he's going to be considerate enough to give me an advantage."

She tilts her head slightly. Anderson? "Hard case? Maybe, if you happen to be a blood-drinking creature of the night. He von't haf any mercy, as vell he shouldn't. Those kinds of things can't be reasoned vit, partly because some of them don't haf a brain any more, and anyvay, he's... a fair bit more dedicated than most."

"I don't trust anyvon more at my back, though." She reaches up to scratch at the back of her head, brows furrowed. "I'm vondering vhat kind of fires Iscariot must be dealing vit. I hafen't heard from him for a vhile, or Yumie, either. They're both assigned somevhere else. Ve'fe been trying to track down who or vhat is churning out these freak chips."

Her arms fold, and she shakes her head. "Danke. But it is vhat it is. Either I keep my sanity, or Father Anderson might as vell put a bayonet through my throat. I vouldn't haf it any other vay." Wait. Bayonets?

"Datapad? You can keep it." Heinkel waves a hand, dismissive. "Send me a copy. Hard copy, if you can arrange that. That's a little more in line vit vhat I'm used to." The paladin pads over to the windows, flicking open the blinds and letting the breeze and the starlight back in. Once that's done, she pads back over to the couch, plopping down on the other side and lacing her fingers behind her head and letting her eyes fall to half-mast. "Rossovich. Send me vhatever dossier you happen to haf on hand of him and his men, too."

Alexis Maaka (571) has posed:
"Yeah, I remember the village." Alexis says. She saw the results, dead walking everywhere and an artificial vampire pulling the strings. SHe's still questioning that part. A chip that makes vampires? The hell kind of stuff is that?

"In any case, the bastard's not exactly known for subtlety either. Rossovich is known as the Butcher of Bangkok, and he's proud of that fact. He and his unit have been getting cocky for the last few years, and it's gonna catch up to them. I'd be happy to give you a clear shot at him, just to see the look on his face when you rip his throat out." She says, tone ice cold as she retrieves the data pad. "I'll send what you need to know over fax machine if you can access one. My software's adaptable but I'm more used to digital files myself, sorry."

She raises an eyebrow, before she shrugs a shoulder. "Well, if he hasn't put you down, you're doing something right."

She goes to retrieve her gun belt and coat, before she looks behind her. "I'll be thorough in the profile, believe me on that."

Heinkel Wolfe (Dropped) has posed:
"Ja. Now imagine that, only orders of magnitude bigger, because that's vhat's going to happen if ve can't put a stop to this nonsense." Heinkel closes her eyes, and for a brief instant she seems somehow more vulnerable; scarred and exhausted. It's gone as soon as her eyes snap open again in determined expression. "Ve haf some leads in South America. Ve think that's vhere the goods are coming from. Right now I'm vaiting on intel from our Section III operatives, and vonce it's ready..."

Leaning forward, she rests her elbows on her knees, head hung low. "Cocky. That's good. Sorry, but I don't plan on letting the Volf do it unless I haf no other choice. The more I dance that death-dance, the harder it is to stuff the bloodthirsty bastard back in a jar, if you know vhat I mean. The last thing you vant to haf to deal vit is me losing my mind in the middle of a mission." Heinkel wrinkles her nose, glaring at the candlelit altar on the other side of the room. "It von't be easy if that happens. So no. I von't rip his throat out unless I haf no other choice. I'm going to put a bullet in his eye if I haf half a chance to."

"It's faster, in any case, and there's less chance of something getting blown all to hell." She pulls herself upright again with a grunt, knees crackling and hip popping. Apparently she's still a little creaky after her brush with death; but it's late at night, and maybe it can be forgiven by the hour. "Ja. I can get to a fax machine. I'll send a number to your frequency."

Her head tilts, fixing Maaka with a flat look from those eerily pale, photoreflective eyes. They flash with every subtle shift of the eyes, and the light they throw out makes it even more obvious. "For now. I haf enough sense to know that could change at any time. Don't get me wrong; I don't vant to become a monster, and I don't vant to die. But I know that I'm valking a tightrope, and vill be for the rest of my life."

"If it comes down to choosing between hafing to put me down and saving innocent lives, I'm going to choose the latter, every time." Resuming her place by the cupboard, she leans against it, folding her arms and tucking her hands into the robe's long sleeves. It looks like Turkish cotton, superior to any hotel standard-issue; its fine Baltic craftsmanship suggests it's one of the few things in this apartment that actually does belong to Heinkel. "But... danke."

"Good." She lifts her chin, fixing Maaka with a reflective stare. "Be thorough. Anything that helps me track the quarry vill be helpful; the more thorough you can be, the faster I can put Rossovich down. The faster I can put Rossovich down, the faster ve can get done and get out of there."

Alexis Maaka (571) has posed:
Alexis is already compiling a report for Heinkel to browse later; Troop strength, tactics, equipment preferences, specializations per unit, that sort of thing. She nods, before she checks her Iscariot-issued guns. "See if you can keep me informed about the Freak thing, that might be a problem in the future. I'll do what I can to help solve it. Not my speciality dealing with vampires, but it's still assassination, and that I can do."

She holsters both guns, letting her coat drape over them and hide the sidearms entirely from behind, and she heads for the door, coat trailing behind her stylishly.

"I'll let you know when it's time for the mission, until then keep in touch. Take care of yourself, Wolfe. I hate to cut and run early, but I do have a busy schedule. Nagato wants me for something in the next few days, so that's a thing."

Heinkel Wolfe (Dropped) has posed:
"Ja, I'll keep you informed." Heinkel flicks a hand almost dismissively. "Iscariot has you on retainer until ve can clear up some of this issue, so as soon as I learn something, so vill you. Right now, I hafen't learned anything. So neither haf you." She sighs, almost morosely. The waiting is the hardest part.

She looks up. "Nothing special to keep in mind, aside from 'shoot it in the head or heart,' and 'don't let it bite you.' They just move faster than your average super-soldier." The fact that ghoul armies are basically self-replicating masses is pretty horrifying. Any army that fights an infestation of ghouls unprepared is only throwing fuel onto the proverbial fire.

"Ja. I'll be in touch, too." The paladin reaches up and rubs at one eye, before reaching for her sunglasses and putting them back on the bridge of her nose. It looks a little silly in a cotton bathrobe, but she doesn't seem to care. "If I hear anything from Section III, I'll forvard it over to you as soon as I can."

She pads over to the door as Maaka makes her way out, offering a lazy wave to the retreating mercenary. "Valk vit God," she adds, grinning from her door. "Be seeing you."