Umbrella Surveillance System
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Chase Dalton     Two weeks ago, a bioweapons research lab in Reykjavik, Iceland, was attacked. Nothing appeared to have been stolen, initially... but once a full inventory was taken, internal security discovered that one of the company's prototype dispersal devices had been taken. Chatter on the dark web pointed to one "Nedeljko Kuzman Milic," a Serbian war criminal, being involved.

    Chase knew Milic from his days in the service -- the man was a textbook sociopath, couldn't wait to crow about his accomplishments, saw himself as God's gift to humanity, had zero emotional capacity, and wouldn't know remorse or guilt if it slapped him in the face and said 'DADDY!' The man was a Serbian nationalist who espoused vehemently xenophobic tendencies.

    An opportunity had come up to take Milic down, once, in 2002, when he'd had shown up at an arms bazaar in Kabul. Unfortunately, shit had gone down more quickly than Montezuma's Revenge in Mexico, and Milic escaped. Chase wasn't happy, and has since had it out for the man. When word came in that Milic had resurfaced in the States, Chase jumped at the chance to put an end to that chapter of his life, once and for all. He was just one man, however, and was no longer in the service, so he had to come clean about his connection to Milic when the man came to the attention of the FBC.

    "Conference room; let's go." Chase said, with a glance around the room, heading into the nearby conference room. "If this guy is anything like he used to be, we don't have time to fuck around."
Prestige William Caldwell Caldwell was busy playing POKEMON THE CARD GAME with some fellow FBC members when Chase RUDELY interrupted and dragged them to the conference room. He was already decked out in full gear, dual samurai edges, OICW, combat knife, the works. The man mutant wasn't sure what the fuck was going on but he'd be sure to help out Chase with whatever he needed. "Soo uhh..why are we here, Chase?" he asks, looking around and scratching his head as he observes the conference room as a very small congregation of people began to trickle in as per asked by Chase. "Dunno what we're doing. Is this a mission?" he didn't really know anything about Milic or any of that VODKA VODKA SOVIET SOVIET CYKA BLYAT nonsense so he wasn't really sure what HE was doing there. But he could help, right?
Chase Dalton "It's a mission... and it's personal. This guy's the white whale to my Captain Ahab." Chase says. "Nedeljko Milic is somewhat of a child in a man's body. Impulsive as hell, short-tempered, and so on. And as of 24 hours ago, we have reports that he's in possession, or coming into possession, of biological weapons. A dispersal device was 'borrowed' from a research lab in Reykjavik two weeks ago. I don't think I need to be any more specific as to what might happen if this guy ends up with the dispersal device /and/ bioweapons. Bad news." A pause as Chase's smartphone rings. He taps his earbud. "Go for Dalton." His expression darkens. "...Shit."
Chase Dalton Chatter on the dark net brings up a potential meeting site: a manufacturing plant in Belgrade, Serbia. Two hours later, the FBC team -- consisting of Chase, William, and Emma -- touches down. On the jet, Chase had secured adjoining rooms at a small hotel. Nothing /fancy/, of course, given the FBC's budget. Chase's phone rings. "Yeah? ... Room 308. ... Vidimo se uskoro, Boban."
Emma Emma isn't much of a fighter. But she is one hell of a medic/future doctor. So she agreed to come along. For her part, the red head is sitting on a bed, making sure her medkit is ready just ij case Which it is. There is no visible signs of nerves on her. Looking up when Chase talks her grey-green eyes study him. "So - so what be tha plan exactly? Run in there guns out?"
Chase Dalton "So, according to my sources, the facility's in the meat-packing district. We need to get in, secure the package, and bail. My guy's got a rough count of OPFOR.. We're looking at twenty, twenty-five on-site, and perhaps a dozen more waiting in the wings." Chase glances between the two. "If we go in hard, it'll be bloody. Soft is good. We take out the exterior security, then the interior, and secure the package. Somebody will need to stay outside and watch the exits, just in case we have runners."
Emma Emma isn't great on tatics, but what Chase says seems to make sense. She nods, and puts the strap over her shoulder. She is ready to go.
Chase Dalton "Let's roll." Chase says, leading the team out to waiting vehicles. A short drive later, the vehicles are stashed, and the team assembled in a staging area caddy-corner to the facility. There's an excellent sniping spot up on the roof, but it provides very little cover. Unless the sniper has his game-face on, he could very well be spotted before he's able to get into position and start clearing things out. The facility itself is guarded by local muscle--men of varying ages, heights, weights, ethnicities. They all have one thing in common: they have more ink than most books have content. And, of course, they're all packing in some form, be it handguns, submachine guns, that sort of thing. At least twenty-five on the exterior alone.
Emma Emma is with the group of others, that are going to go in. Given that she is medic for this, it's easier to get for people. There is a gun at her side, but it's to her, uncomfortable. For now she stays to the side.
Emma Well people are shooting and stuff. But Emma spots one guy coming in and well, decides to be bold. Pulling off her medkit she rushes up - forgetting the chaos and risk, as this guy is going to shoot at someone, and brings her medpack around to swing at him. But it's a poor swing, luckily she is nimble enough to step back.
Chase Dalton Chase hefts out his M104, and begins cooking off rounds. Soon enough, the room is quiet, and littered with bodies, leaving an ominously open path to the Prize. No sign of Nedeljko Milic, though.
Emma It's quiet. Emma stands there, just listening to the silence. Slowly, from where she is kneeling the red head stands. Her first instinct is to check for wounded. Which she does, but it's not looking like there are many. Least her medkit came in handy for something so far.
Chase Dalton "Cover me, I'm going for the objective." Chase's voice echoes across the empty building.

Suddenly, the sound of a handgun's hammer cocking cuts through the air, and Emma feels a man pressing himself against her from behind, one hand over her mouth, the other brushing the barrel of a wood-grip Desert Eagle across her cheek. "Mm," He leans in and buries his nose in Emma's hair, getting a nice deep whiff of her scent. "Someone's been a naughty girl... I think I'll take you with me, introduce you to the other girls." He smells like a man who hasn't seen a shower in a week, at least. Sour, pungent, musky, with a hint of copper.

Chase glances back, the biological agent in hand, one hand going for his weapon. "Milic! Drop the weapon, release the girl, right now! Put your hands up, and get down on your knees."
Emma Before she knows it, there is a hand on her mouth, and weapon across her cheek. Feeling the man pressed against her, catching his scent, it's like a trigger. All those memories of Racoon come back, of that time she was kidnapped before. Her face pales - which makes her hair all the more red. Grey-green eyes widen with total fear. The 'other girls'? She can only guess what that means, and it makes her feel sick. Doing everything within her power to keep calm those big eyes betray her fear, as they spot Chase. Now, this lass is in the middle. A shield to Milic, with a weapon to her head.
Chase Dalton Nedeljko Milic begins heading toward the roof, dragging Emma backwards up the stairs. The sound of an approaching helicopter cuts through the silence. "No, Agent Dalton, YOU put your hands up, weapon on the ground. Drop to your knees." Chase takes a second to weigh his options, before nodding, and going to lower his weapon. The helicopter is closer now, right outside. Milic's grip momentarily loosens.
Emma Hauled up a stairs like some simple object, lost to the power of a smelly, likely womanizing man who by all accounts is evil to the core. Emma trembles just a little. Swollowing the lump in her throat as a few teara tumble down her cheeks though the fear is present in her eyes it's mixed with a renewed strength. Something clicks. This lass is no target. Clenching her jaw some, to keep steady and face what may come the moment the grip looses is when this girl acts. In the best way she can she turns just enough to hopefully slam her knee right into his balls, and if possible, try to break free after.
Chase Dalton As Milic's coin-purse rockets into his trachea like some sort of unholy 'high striker' carnival game, his grip comes loose, and Emma is able to get away. He falls to the floor and curls up in a fetal position. Just then, the helicopter sound grows louder; men and women in FBC jackets make entry and begin sweeping the premises. Red and blue lights flash outside as Chase steps up and holds Milic at gunpoint. "Nedeljko Milic," Chase begins. "You're under--" Milic whips around, gun in hand. Chase fires. The gun skitters away. What remains of the man's hand is... not much. "--arrest." The agents move forward to begin processing the scene, take Milic into custody, and to see to Emma's injuries.
Emma Emma scurries away, landing on her knees in the rush as lights flash around them and FBC come in. Her mind is reeling, there again are trembles that take her body. Still, knowing there was courage to do that helps. Slowly moving to sit, to catch her breath. There seems to be no real phycial injury, mental may be a bit different. Idly, a hand comes up to wipe a tear from her cheek.
Chase Dalton "You motherfucker! My hand! LOOK WHAT YOU DID TO MY HAND!" Milic screams, enraged, as he's lead away in cuffs. "THIS ISN'T OVER! Fa'iin aljhad yaeud 'iilaa 'ard alkiffara!" The man thrashes wildly as he's loaded into a waiting medical transport; Chase moves to support Emma. "You're still alive. Focus on that. You'll survive."
Emma Emma thankfully takes the offered support, she trembles a little yet, but slowly is getting calmer. Her mind went to the possability of not surviving this. But Chase is right, she is alive. "Th -- thank ya." Whispers the lass to him, truly meaning it.
Chase Dalton "Let's get you looked at." And get this case put to bed, but he won't say that. Chase helps Emma up into another waiting ambulance, before hopping in himself. The doors close, and the ambulance begins rolling out, guarded by a convoy of FBC units. As the convoy fades into the distance, the sky begins pouring rain, as though countless victims (would-be and otherwise) are crying in relief.