Scene #1055: Planning an Operation

Owner	Pose
Taro	Unsurprisingly, Hellsing has a fair number of conference rooms. This specific one is equipped with a projector and screen along with a couple of whiteboards to compliment the usual table and chairs and other assorted office decor. Hopefully one of the chairs will be sturdy enough to handle Nine's weight. Taro's already spread out a map of part of the Great Ocean, which he's marked up in places to give frames of reference in what is otherwise a very vast and featureless body of water. He's also borrowed what appear to be wooden game tokens from somewhere, which he's setting up on top of the map. He's missing his holoprojector table right now, but this will suffice.
No. 9	Conference rooms are kickass. They're bright and crisp and professional, all things that he is not, and they're usually alone. It's when they're full of people that they make him feel bad and uncomfortable. Usually because they were full of the kind of people who wanted him to keep his head up and his mouth fuckin shut. He hated those times. He remembered them, all too well. And he hated them. It's nice, like this though. Alone. Quiet. Still. He seems... nervous, for some reason, looking over that map. Really, rather nervous. Must be the conference room. He's not in a chair. He's up and pacing. Making suggestions... but pacing.
Taro	Taro lets him pace. Taro also lets him talk. Taro knows that the Golem has a brain in there, somewhere, which has some keen insight that shows itself when the rest of his mind is functioning. Taro is not sure why Nine is nervous, though he's willing to blame it on the general unease that his brother's been feeling while they've been working, training, and generally living within the confines of the Hellsing Organization. "We're not going to be absolutely certain where the ships will be that day, since these galleons," the unfamiliar word is a bit slow in forming, but he pronounces it correctly. At least in British English - he's been working on picking up his master's native language, "depend so much on the wind, and we can never be sure of the weather." The game tokens are set up in the general pattern of a sailing convoy circa the Spanish Empire. "I feel that a quick strike to disable one of them, divest it of silver, and leave in haste would be best. Do you think that would work?"
No. 9	Sometimes it shows itself when he has the rest of his mind distracted. His flaws are many and numerous, considerable both in scope and in depth. His boots tromp, tromp tromp tromp, pause, three back, tromp tromp tromp. Another three, tromp tromp tromp, pause. He comes back to the table, looking down at it, eyes narrowed a little. "...Have we considered tagging it? No, no that's, dumb, that'd tip them off. Hrmh." Thoughtful. "I'd suggest Emet but I'm not sure he'd keep his head on straight in this situation. He likes playing in the ocean." His metal hand brushes his jaw, scrubbing over it slowly.
Taro	There is a certain rhythm to to the pacing, at least. Taro doesn't join him in that. Instead, he rests his gloved hands palms flat on the table, until he's ready to add or move another token to those already set. He glaces over at Nine, head tilting to one side in question. "Emet?"
No. 9	"Half dragon, half APC. Golemized draconic lifeform. Found him in the Rookery. Found out his tech was... compatible with mine, more or less. Was surprised, but, hey... he's... not, the smartest thing. Go figure." A chuckle. "He has the intelligence of a very keen... golden retriever. If I tell him what to do it aint so bad, but, yeah." A nod, and a shrug.
Taro	Taro gives a nod at that, then looks down at the map again as he considers. "How would he be as a distraction, do you think? Even if he can't be fully trusted to stay on task, something large and menacing in the sky would certainly draw attention away from our own ship."
No. 9	A thoughtful pause. "...Even if he's playin in the ocean, he'd be a helluva distraction. He IS a giant-ass dragon with floodlights all down his stomach. Not to mention th' gatlin laser breath weapon. He'd prolly think he wus playin wif em. Not be half bad at a distraction, I s'ppose." Thoughtful.
Taro	"Mm." Taro picks up a yellow token between thumb and index finger, and places it to one side of the convoy of tokens. Emet has presumably been added to the field. "In which case, we will approach from the opposite side of wherever he chooses to play." A variable which he cannot completely account for in his plans, but he's already decided that this cannot be a precise to the second attack. Perhaps to the hour is the weather is favorable. "Are there any other cards in those wide sleeves of yours?" he asks lightly, though he really is interested in the answer.
No. 9	A snicker. "As long as I throw sumthin he likes t' chase, he'll keep after it, even with a ship fulla people t' play with." The degree of play versus 'play' is debatable here, and he's not specifying, though his grin is less then trustworthy, or reassuring. A shrug. "Three hundred plus troops, stun grenades, a handful of high level teleporting boys. Hell I could thaw out some of the Divers, but I wouldn't recommend it, they tend t' spread like wildfire when they get out."
Taro	"Perhaps when and if we need to launch an invasion by sea," Taro decides, presumbably referring to the Divers. "For what amounts to a smash and grab operation, they may be a bit much. The stun grenades would be useful though, I believe. Neo Arcadian ones are mostly intended for machines, not organics." He picks up another token, but this one is idly turns over between his fingers. "A few extra sets of hands for the transferral. I'd planned to use some of my drones for that, unless your troops need the exercise?" They'd already discussed that Hellsing would best not be implicated in this scheme, even if it's outside Sir Integra's territory. Best to not stir the pot, and in any event most of them wouldn't be keen on piracy even if it -is- in roundabout service to The Queen. Then, in a small non-sequitor, "There's a cricket match on tonight. You're welcome to watch with me, if you like."
No. 9	A nod. "Our models don't have you sleepin for a week but they got you coughin yer lungs out n' rubbin yer eyes. Gives ya sumthin t' think 'bout other n' fightin back. Do we wanna reduce casualties or jest slaughter em all? I could make golems outta em or we could let em go, pitch em overboard I dunno." A shrug, but then a laugh. "My troops dun need shit really. There aint nobody there, and they do bout as well sittin in their freezers as movin about, though I 'magine that maybe Jones might need a bit a legwork, e' might be gettin fat." Not that golems can really get fat.
Taro	"This is not officially a Hellsing operation. Therefore, we do not need to strictly follow their protocols." Taro sets the token he's been playing with on the map at last, off to the other side of the fleet from where Emet's token was placed. "While I think you know my feelings on outright murder, if they consider the cargo worth more than their own lives, feel free act accordingly." Nine's done as well or better than expected in keeping himself leashed while he's here. He should be given the chance to let loose for a bit. "Bring Jones, then. He may be useful if more than the usual number of Union Elites come to stop us."
No. 9	He shrugs. "I tend to kill if it has a point, and not bother if there aint. It seems pointless n' stupid to do it any other way, now." he'd had his kill tendencies put off by a year. Now he kills when he wants to, but he has to really want to, or if it's an accident. He doesn't really care, but it's a matter of professional pride now. Or something. Shrug. He's lost a lot of his taste for blood. Or at least a taste for it as a relishing thing. Quality over quantity and all that. A glance over. "...You think the Unionites would spare him?" They've been shoot-in-the-head-happy enough. And he doesn't want Jones taking one to the skull.
Taro	Another nod, this one pleased. "Of course. Still, feel free to knock their heads together if that would put some sense into them." Then, Taro furrows his brow at Nine's understandable concern. "Mm. A fair point. Perhaps best to stick with only drones, then. They are intended to be more expendible than the rest of us." One more token, this one smaller and green, is picked up to be neatly stacked on the yellow taken he'd just placed. "I'll be sure you get a teleporter bangle, just in case you take a tumble overboard."
No. 9	A chuckle and a thumbsup. "Sounds like a fun time." He looks thoughtful, then nods. "Yea. Former civvies turned mindless drones. They're dead anyway." In every way that matters. A nod, then, coughing. "I'd appreciate it. Without it, if I fall overboard and the Queen can't find me, I'm dead." He isn't keen on dying.
Taro	Dying is highly overrated. Just ask Taro. "We do have to watch out for each other, after all." Which Nine wouldn't be able to do for him if he's at the bottom of the ocean. "Aside from those...our usual personal arms and armaments." He looks thoughtfully at the map for a long moment, then nods to himself in satisfaction. "Once the cargo is loaded and any resistance fought off, we'll head for open sea, and then make our way to this island here," he taps a spot on the map an arm's length (Taro's arm, not Nine's) away, "And then return home with whatever we've procured at our leisure. Any other thoughts?"
No. 9	His nod is quiet, his eyes far away. But he reaches over, laying a simple hand on Taro's shoulder. A hand Taro built. A hand Taro gave him. His eyes are heavy... and he offers a grin. "You always have the best plans..."
Taro	He does, doesn't he? Taro flashes a ghost of a smile at the appreciation, resting one of his hand atop Nine's. "Then we will see how well it stands up, once committed." And then he drops his hand to slip out from under Nine's. "I consider this meeting adjourned." The tokens are swept from the map to the corner of the table, to be put away later. "I'll let Master Hellsing know of our plan when I meet with her next."