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RP: Bastardpiece Theater [Bastardpiece Theater] Bastard Operations: Ghosts in the Snow


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"Don't worry."

The piercing rush of air that greeted him when the doors of the vehicle opened was nothing compared to such a statement. What minutes ago was the chaotic mix of gunfire and shouting had surrendered to the droning of high winds, and the short bursts of bright muzzle flashes gave way to the dimness of a blizzard-choked afternoon. He could barely make out the dark splotches in the snow that were once his comrades, men that he shared a drink with at the local bar not more than a hours ago.

If it weren't for their rushed movements, he would never have spotted the men in white over the corpses of the dead; some disrobing and disarming them, and some moving and then disappearing as they secured a perimeter. There would be no burials. Violent crime in the Democratic Imperium of Nepleslia was far from unheard of, and this planet was no exception.

Hence why wasn't hurried along at all. There was ample time given to him to survey the carnage that an a invisible hand had wrought. Feelings of disbelief soon gave way to a despaired realization: the hand had been invisible and non-corporeal, but he had given it life. He had allowed it to manifest in this frozen hell to visit a brief but burning moment of violence upon the only real source of warmth he had on this cold, dark planet.

There was a soft crunch as he came to the ground on his hands and knees, and the tears that ran down his face only served to enhance the pain that the cold wreaked upon him. He knew what was to happen to their families, to himself and his own. Everyone would disappear, not just the recently deceased. Worse yet, he knew the fate of those that betray their comrades. The men that stood witness to his betrayal of trust, those that were responsible for such violence were monsters in their own right, yet even they knew the value of comradeship. They knew the punishment one received for violating such a sacred ideal.

He could feel himself being tugged to his feet. Either the man that was guiding him to the abyss was abnormally strong, or he himself was ready to accept his own fate and rose on his own fading strength.

The frigid temperature had become worse, now, as his clothing was put into a container containing the clothes of his comrades, and dropped into the car that he would soon not own. Then, searing and blinding pain accompanied by the muffled report of a suppressed weapon would assault his senses, making him crumple into the snow in a useless wreck.

The sound of multiple vehicles approached, and struggling to get a look at them, he soon found that the projectiles had shattered a majority of his joints, effectively immobilizing him. Frozen in a frozen wasteland.

His ferryman stood above him, and for a brief moment was surrounded by several armed men, who hastily got into the vehicles and left the two of them.

"Like I said, don't worry." The sound of a hammer dropping on a pistol barely registered with him, and the man towering above him offered him what he could in terms of words of comfort in his final minutes.

"The cold eventually numbs everything."

He could only watch as the lights of his automobile slowly disappeared into the distance as the cold took him away.

A few hours later, at "Natasha's Bar," a rather unassuming figure made his entrance by letting the furious blizzard leak in for a few seconds upon opening the door.

The frost on his cold weather gear already starting to melt and pool on the surface of his heavy coat, the newcomer ordered himself a bottle of beer and made his way to one of the empty tables. Soft music had been enjoyed by the alcoholics that made up the customer base of this particular establishment, and the subdued orange lighting made it perfect for drunken men to either wallow or engage in peaceful silence.

Pulling out two pairs of ID cards, the newcomer compared his facial features on the fresh copy to the old one, the owner of which he had buried in the snow half an hour ago. Finding no faults with the copy, he immediately took out a small vial of liquid and dropped it on the picture of the original owner's, waited for it to melt the plastic of the card, and simply dropped it in a small space between his bench and the wall of the bar, to be found in however long his superiors decided to fund this bar as a base of operations on this planet.

"Could have chosen a fucking titty bar..."

At that, Kurt placed the unopened green bottle in the middle of the table and waited, hoping the new recruits remembered the subtle sign that designated him as their contact.


Harbinger of Naproxen Addiction
A short of average figure in a heavy grey trench coat made its way in with another draft of frozen air and moved out of the way a little to remove a black thermal toque and pair of similar gloves. The man then stuffed the articles into his pockets before rubbing his face and knocking the snow out of the treads of his sixty-belows. He then undid his coat on his way to the bar savouring the warm air, regardless of how polluted it was.

Under the coat was a tweed patterned suit jacket, a cream coloured shirt with a maroon tie, and grey slacks. He looked good, but the materials were on the cheep end, disguised to look nice. The man noted the green bottle in his periphery and kept it in mind as he took a stool at the bar.

"Whisky, double, neat," he replied to the bartender before he rubbed his face again. the suited professional then rubbed at the scar on his left eyebrow before placing his forearms on the bar and relaxing, or at least looking like he was. He kept his ears open for noises and such around him, taking special careful stock of anyone who walked behind him without looking, to make sure they moved along.


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Another person walked into the bar soon after. She shook off snow from her shoulder and pulled off a hood of her coat, muttering something about bloody cold. When the hood came down, it showed a wave of red hair, which was combed and braided into two braids. The woman put off her gloves and inserted them into the pockets of her coat, looking around the bar, before she also unzipped the coat. Under it was just a normal jumpsuit, though the thickness of it showed that it was not only clothing she had to fight the winter weather on Purgatory.

At first her eyes just went over the table with green bottle of beer in the middle, not stopping on it. She looked at the patron ordering a whiskey at the bar. Then she just walked forward and moved to the table where Kurt was sitting. Without a word she sat down.

"Gud evening, yes?" she said and looked at Kurt, then without moving her head, she looked at the bottle with her eyes and then back at him. "I am looking for a company and you be the best looking comrade in here. I hope you don't mind me, yes?"
Scarf pulled over his face, Dex attempted to shake the cold from his body before entering the bar. Glancing around as he entered, he saw the green bottle with a man and a woman sitting at the table around it. Pulling a cigarette from his pocket, he lit it before making his way to the bar where a man was ordering a whiskey.

"I'll take a shot o whiskey and a beer, please." requested the man while he he let his eyes subtly wander the bar as he checked for necessary escape routes and other things of tactical value. Finally the bartender got his drinks for him to which Dex placed a few DA on the bar before throwing back the shot.

Feeling the burn of the liquor down the back of his throat, he chased it with a sip of his beer before nodding his thanks to the bartender and walking toward the table with the unopened beer. Pulling a chair up, he sat down before glancing at Kurt and Kira. "Evening. You two look like mighty fine drinking companions. Mind if I join you?" asked the man as his eyes glanced down at the bottle.


Harbinger of Naproxen Addiction
Mr. Trenchcoat got his glass about the same time the guy next to him did. He took a sniff of the contents and sighed as the other passed by him, soon following with his eyes. Seeing the three of them now at the table though, Dick decided he ought to get in there.

The pharmacist laid his payment and tip on the bar and took a sip. He issued another sigh of satisfaction, then made his way over to the table. "Mind if I join you all as well?" the academic smiled, "My sister will kill me if she finds out I'm drinking alone."


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Two weeks ago.
"Discharged?!" Fian almost yelled, incredulously, only more than half a decade of being in the non-commissioned ranks restrained him from adding an expletive to the start of the statement.

"Honorable discharge, Mr. Vel Steyr." The middle aged Captain of the SMoDIN delivering the news was seated behind a desk, Fian could detect a smirk on his face. "Your services are no longer needed. The Mishu War has gone cold, and we are drawing down on footsloggers. It certainly would have been a different story if you made officer, but you have already failed OCS twice and they aren't interested in letting you in a third time."

The Nepleslian Master Chief was angry at being let go by an organization he had pledged his life to, but at the same time he was scared, the army had been his entire existence since he had cut contact with whats left of his family since the Battle of Nepleslia. A bead of cold sweat formed on his brow, he clenched his fists to stop them from shaking. "But I don't have anywhere else to go."

The Captain smiled, picked out a envelope from a file and slid it across the table to the Master Chief. "Someone already has their eye on you, though. Perhaps you could consider their invitation?"

The envelope was stamped confidential, but Fian observed that it was in black, and knew exactly who he was dealing with.


The young looking Nepleslian downed the glass of whiskey he was nursing the whole cold night, he was hoping it would be his first and last, and he was right. Now that he had seen the signal, he didnt have to keep the charade of being an actual alcohol drinker any longer. Since leaving the military he had cut his hair to eyebrow level to reduce maintainence, signs of black bags have formed under his eyes and he now kept a general air of misery about him. Not particularly adapted to the cold, he had kept a grey beanie and a thick and equally dull jacked on even in the bar. Given time, he would have looked like a "veteran", air quotes.

"Water, please.". He then duly grabbed the water that was given, calmly walked over to Kurt's table pulled a chair. "If I sit at the bar I'mma have to keep drinking, so I'm gonna wind down with you people." He announced, with slight slurring.


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"Damn, honey." Kurt leaned forward in his seat, crossing his leg over another and used his right hand on his leg to support himself. "Barely a second in this bar and you're already looking for some action? I must be more of a looker than I thought."

"I'll tell ya what, I don't believe that chivalry is dead...however, I'm also a pretty progressive-minded man. I think that any woman is capable of buying her own drink." At that, Kurt pulled a coin from his pocket; with one side defaced and the other totally clear. "Let's flip for it, eh? If this coin lands with its defaced side up, I'll buy a few rounds for ya. The other way, I'll buy the rounds anyway, but you and I are going to share an intimate moment tonight. I'll even let you flip it."

At that, the intimate moment that the two were obviously sharing was interrupted by the arrival of three other men.

"Fuck, I should have known this would happen..." Kurt slid the coin over to the woman who had joined him and eyed each of the three males that joined them at the table with a look that could only be described as disgust. "You two get your own woman." He said, as the three of them took their seats. "She saw me, came to me first. I don't give a fuck if most of the women in this area are unavailable."

Kurt took the bottle of beer from the middle of the table, and still leaning forward slightly, opened it on the leading edge of the table and started to drink the cool liquid, his hand becoming wet from the condensation on the bottle.

His eyes landed first on the scarred man, the man who looked more female than male, then on the taller of the two. "Fuck, you guys are more desperate than an ex-Marine at the employment office now that the Misshu aren't here anymore."


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"Now, now settle down boys, yes?" The woman said with a chuckle. Then she moved her finger and put it on top of the coin, slowly sliding it across the table until it was laying in front of her. Her eyes watched Kurt the whole time and only then looked down on the coin. She picked it up in her fingers and looked at it.

"A defaced coin? This eez like in the comics I used to read when I a child." She added and chuckled yet again. "Only this coin was used by a bad-guy to decide if he does bad thing or does not do a bad thing. Now I could flip this coin as well. But I not like betting my chastity on leetle flip of a coin. A woman mus have pride you know. Or are you afraid you would not be able to seduce me without the coin mister?"


Harbinger of Naproxen Addiction
Dick shook his head, "I try to avoid competing outside outside the ring." He did, however, take a better look at the red-head and his face changed to that of approval. "I suppose there are times when it is worth it though," the academic smirked.
Shrugging at the man's ribbing of the Corps, Dex took a long drag of his cigarette. Exhaling the smoke from his nose, he leaned back in his chair. "Gotta agree with the man." replied Dex as he jabbed a thumb in Dick's direction.


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"On the contrary, my dear. I think that, in some way, you being here with me means you've already been seduced." Kurt's eyes flashed in the direction of Dex and Dick, their gaze alternating between the two of them. "That goes for both of you..." At that point, Kurt took the green bottle and gulped the beer down.

The clicking sound of a manual safety being engaged was heard from under the table, and Kurt slipped his Styrling Silver into his heavy winter coat.

"I think that she's enough woman to satisfy all of us at once, though. No need to fight over her." Kurt made sure to say that loudly enough so that others could hear it, but not in such a way that it would violate the concept of an indoor voice. "What's say we make it to my car? I've got a place nearby where we can really have some fun."

He smiled, and got up from his seat. "Maybe find out what we're all into." At that, Kurt headed towards the door of the bar.


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"Ooooh your car eh?" THe girl said smiling at Kurt, leaning against the table. This was a funny game. She just hoped that was it. Just a game. And that this was her contact and not just some perverse moron who happened to put his bottle in the center of the table. She then stood up, ready to go. "What car do you have? Can I drive?"


Harbinger of Naproxen Addiction
Dick's ear twitched when he heard the safety catch, but otherwise didn't react having recognized the sound. The Styrling confirmed it for him, and he sighed slightly bored before looking back at the redhead.

The mention of the woman being enough for all of them prompted a smirk and a snicker before the pharmacist pounded back his whisky. "An interesting suggestion," he remarked, then tapped his hand on the table before looking around at everyone else in the group.


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Kurt stopped momentarily at the bar to pay for their drinks, throwing down an absurdly large amount of DA which the bartender gratefully accepted, shoving it into his pocket with hands covered by worn winter gloves.

"We'll get to see how you drive soon enough, girly." Kurt smiled back at her, and kept a cheerful disposition all the way to the doors of the bar. When the cold air and snow assaulted the group, his smile immediately faded away.

"Now the time for jokes and shit is done. I don't want any of you guys distracted when you're being briefed." Kurt pulled a black warmer over his lower face, pulled the hood up on his jacket and lead the group rather slowly through what constituted as a parking lot; a dirt field full of the cars of patrons and abandoned wrecks that the owner of the establishment left sitting out there.

With the snow and wind fiercely assaulting the group, visibility was dropped to only a few meters, as the figure of Kurt advanced in front of the group, barely illuminated by the bright lamp posts that struggled to pierce the swirling darkness around them.

A dark blotch would suddenly appear and illuminate itself in a pulsing red and orange light as Kurt unlocked the doors to the car and opened the trunk.

Using the trunk light, Kurt pulled out a box filled with clothing and firearms from the car and set it down in front of the new recruits. The familiar sound of a safety being disengaged would barely register with the recruits as Kurt adopted a low ready stance far away from the car, as if scanning the area around them.

"Change into those clothes. I'm sure I don't need to tell you to make it quick."


Harbinger of Naproxen Addiction
The chemist's face carried a look of bemused intrigue until he got back out into the cold and snow where it dropped serious. He did not look around too much while following Kurt; but he did keep his ears open to be sure the right amount of foot falls were around him and no more. Dick did end up picking up a sound from the far edge of the parking lot, however a second extra paid attention assured him it was nothing.

"Understood," was all he would say before digging into the box for some articles he felt would suit. Dick pulled out a forest green turtleneck, worn pair of pants, a grey loose and heavy dock-worker's sweater, insulated work boots, and a jean jacket to finish off the needed R- value. The academic also located some webbing, Styrling Silver Special .45 Caliber, and a holster before getting out of the way.

Dick next put what he picked up, down in a pile with the jacket on the bottom and the pistol on top, then stripped down to his thermals and wool socks. The wind bit, but the time until hypothermia was still counted in seconds, so he quickly grabbed the turtleneck and threw it on; next adding the webbing and attaching the holster to his back, barrel up. Once the gun was professionally cleared and put away, the pharmacist piled everything else on.

He then looked over at Kurt as he put his own tuque and gloves back on and asked, "So where does our stuff go?"


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Over the biting cold, a familiar voice cut in.

"Somewhere else obviously."

It was a small case barely large enough to hold a handgun continued to talk. "And you forgot to tell them all about the goods inside the case," it continued to go on, now seemingly directing its annoyance at Kurt. "I can't exactly direct you all or feed images and whatnot if none of you are wearing the earbuds or contact lenses," the person went on, the case finally falling quiet. It simply sat there, rough plastic nestled amongst the firearms and clothing - once again, it was mundane.
Stripping down in the middle of the biting cold wasn't something high on his list of things to do that particular evening, but he knew this man was in charge and so he would follow his orders. Digging through the box next, he pulled a brown wool sweater, some cargo pants that had seen better days, a black beanie with the name of a sports team he had never heard of on the front, and a blue coat.

Unlike Dick however, Dex wasn't wearing thermals underneath his clothes. Stripping down, the wind and cold bit into the man's bare skin as he quickly threw the clothes on. Replacing his NSMC issue boots upon his feet before sliding his knife down the right boot, he strapped his holster to his belt in the same fashion as Dick. He finished off the look with his scarf back around his neck and slid his small medical kit into the jackets inside pocket.

Standing next to the Kira and Dick while he scratched at his neck before readjusting his scarf as he listened to the box, Dex waited until it was finished speaking before lighting a cigarette. "I think it's safe to say I've seen everything now." spoke the ex marine through a cloud of the harsh smoke. Holding his other clothes underneath an arm, he glanced at Kurt and waited for the man to speak up.


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Kurt looked over his shoulder at the rest of them undressing and dressing back in cold gear. Strangely nonchalant about a small little case talking to the group and giving them orders, Kurt walked over and equipped the contact lenses and earbuds.

Looking over at Dex and the rest of them seeing their contact respond to the orders from a small crate, Kurt simply said. "What? This the strangest thing you've all seen? Do what it says."


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Fian looked into the box and noted all the worn out clothes, seems like they are going with the low-end crowd disguise, not very far from what he was already wearing. He simply swapped out his grey jacket and beanie for a mismatching set: faded brown ushanka, moth-eaten dark maroon trenchcoat, black felt gloves and a dirty red scarf. He didn't like the idea of stripping down for strangers in a bloody blizzard so he kept his original shoes, pants and undershirt on. He then also retrieved the ear and eye pieces as told, two Styrling Darts and as much ammo as he could carry in his pockets.

The Vel Steyr was having a mild headache from being alternatively frozen and warm so he wasn't in much of a mood to speak, other than grunting "Now what?"


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Taking off her layers in this cold was not something Kira was very happy about and boy was this planet cold. But a job was a job and it needed to be done. For that disguise was a must. Kira picked a pair of green baggy pants with lots of pockter, Brown leather jacket with fluffy collar. On her head she put a tanker-hat with flaps over her ears and an imitation of combat helmet with a pair of goggles on top. She grinned as she examined her choice, in her mind it was good ganger outfit.

As for her weapons choice she actually picked two guns. A good old faithful god of self-defense, which was really perfect for intimidation. For actual gunfight she took Old Faithful. A gun that would never disappoint.

"Da, I ready now," Kira said, turning around so everyone could see her disguise. "Now mr. talking box can say more to us, yes?" While she said that she actually followed Kurt's action and took an earbud and then contact lenses, blinking to get used to them.