Mission Report (3/5)AMR CI/FP Shamrock Tavern HUMINT Source Spotting"Do your research ahead of time. Look at social media posts, corporate and underground news sources, blogs, whatever. Know the basics of the current political climate in case such things come up, you should at least know enough to pass as a local instead of a spacer."
Two operators will case the Shamrock Tavern on Anghabar, seeking to spot HUMINT sources for AMR CI FP for use against the growing insurgency.
Anna, a trained HUMINT Collector, will be the Team Leader, as well as perform most of the intelligence collection. A second operator, Ethan Hunt, will mostly provide security and general support.
Team will secure a small safehouse near the Shamrock Tavern. After first surveilling its patrons from inside the SUV, team will disguise themselves appropriately to match the observed patrons. Ethan will enter the tavern first, messaging Anna ten minutes later if the room appears safe. As security backup, Ethan will carry a sidearm and generally try to keep to himself. Anna will arrive unarmed and apparently alone, to ensure minimum suspicion and maximum approachability. Anna will then attempt to spot HUMINT source leads AMR CI FP can use, such as personnel associated with organized labor.
As security measures, an AS Val carbine will be provided. It should be stored in the safehouse off-duty, and kept in the SUV as backup while on mission. Obviously this is non-overt mission, and all personnel should dress and act sterile.
Despite her OSINT research, Team Leader Anna Chapman, the HUMINT Collector, remains optimistic about the mission. As a newly minted intelligence professional, she understands the need for IPB and gives it her best shot. Whilst the AMR-dominated mainstream media pushes sports headlines into the news cycle, more pertinent news stories are published in the background. Within this background reporting, Anna identifies a B-narrative of law and order stories being pushed. In response to "inappropriate disruptions in efficiency," AMR is no longer recognizing several named United Labor Movement (ULM) chapters. Querying those named ULM chapters against social media, she identifies that one of those banned chapters, ULM 323, is located near the Shamrock Tavern. Furthermore, various puff pieces celebrate law enforcement agencies and their accomplishments. The AMR security apparatus is apparently highly decentralized, with Anna finding nearly a dozen planet-wide agencies with overlapping mandates. On top of that, Anna discovers various local police departments across the planet. Despite her best attempts, no mentions of AMR Counterintelligence/Force Protection are found.
In terms of area OSINT research, the Shamrock Tavern is a local pub in downtown New Dublin. As you would expect, much of the populace claims an Irish heritage of some sort. With a population of just under 20,000, New Dublin doesn't technically count as a city by Old World standards, but still is a notable population center in the Thiel system. The well developed infrastructure of the industrial area near a major steel mill creates an adjacent urbanized downtown. Most consider daytime smog a small price to pay for modern climate controlled apartment blocks with indoor plumbing. Packed buses travel along asphalt paved roads bringing common folk to and fro. The well-to-do who can afford their own transportation prefer to reside in more suburban enclaves.
Without too much difficultly, Anna and Ethan manage to find an unremarkable two bedroom apartment down the street from the Shamrock Tavern. Their landlord explains that the previous tenants unexpectedly moved out in a hurry, probably to run off into the hills with the other hardline strikers. The landlord's suspicions were confirmed when local police "requested" access to the apartment two days later. Anna deduces this is likely not an isolated incident, and that landlords on Anghabar are probably happy to get any paying tenant at this point. Anna quickly negotiates a one month cash lease under an assumed name which the landlord agrees to.
Their safehouse established, Team Leader Anna sets up surveillance of the Shamrock Tavern. An old fashioned vehicular stakeout isn't the sexiest of intelligence operations, but it gets the job done. In urban operations, parked vehicles are a common sight, and provide enough concealment for extended manned surveillance. Luckily, it turns out there's plenty of free parking at and around the Shamrock Tavern.
Anna and Ethan had never spent much time together before, but now get hours together on stakeout in the Landrover. It's boring work, made a bit awkward when Ethan insists on using a piss bottle, but the two get along well enough.
"Hey Anna, you got some Russian heritage in you I take it?"
"Somewhere in there. Why do you ask?"
"Wanna hear a joke?"
"Sure, why not?"
"In Soviet Russia..."
"TV WATCHES YOU!" Anna excitedly blurts out in a comedic foreign accent.
"Wait, what?"
"Oh, that isn't where you were going?"
"No. So in Soviet Russia, they had this joke: Why do KGB agents always operate in threes?"
Anna shrugs, "Got me."
"The first one can read. The second one can write. And the third one is there to keep an eye on the two dangerous intellectuals."
Anna looks at him quizzically, "I don't get it, but I was never big on ancient history."
Ethan laughs to himself, "Tough crowd. A joke is never funny if you have to explain it."
After two nights on stakeout, Anna's confident she has enough recon to go forward. The Shamrock Tavern is an inauspicious blue-collar watering hole, filled with denim and work boots. A heavy-weight bouncer mans the front door of the small one story building. An employees-only entrance leads through a small kitchen area that's apparently kept unlocked during business hours. Window shades don't provide a good view inside of the tavern at all. From the outside, it's unclear if there's any sort of basement or cellar.
From her HUMINT training, Anna knows small gathering spots tend to have tight-knit regulars. Straight-up impersonating an established native is a fool's errand in such an intimate environment. So instead, Anna will impersonate the next best things, "I'm new in town." With the growing planet-wide unrest, surely she and Ethan won't be the only new faces in downtown New Dublin.
"Jesus Anna, you know what you look like?"
"A hooker? That's the plan. Am I the right hooker though?"
"Eh... that's tough. I'm assuming you don't want to go full street-walker?"
"Trashy enough to be fun and approachable, but not enough to give you crabs. This ain't a glitterworld joint, but I don't want to look like something off a street-corner."
"While I dig your boobage as much as the next guy, maybe try a jacket over that crop top?"
"Of course I was going to wear a jacket. You seriously thought I was going to roll in there showing this much skin?"
"Well..."
Anna sighs and rolls her eyes.
Their preparations made, Ethan walks over to the Shamrock Tavern, so as to not be seen in the same vehicle with Anna. At the door of the Tavern, he's stopped by the towering bouncer up front, "Whoa there, Billy Big Iron. I can't let you bring that handcannon inside."
The bouncer points at the Colt Python Magnum revolver on Ethan's hip, "I'm going to have to give you a claim ticket for that. You can pick it up on your way out."
Ethan suspected this might be the case and hands over his firearm. The bouncer admires the weapon for a moment, "Ha, I thought this might be a genuine Colt Python. In good shape too! I'll take good care of her for you. Have a good night."
Ethan warily scopes out the joint. It's the team's first view inside of the tavern, and despite their two nights of recon, Ethan wasn't entirely sure what to expect. From first impressions, the tavern turns out to be a bit of a dive bar with a pseudo-Irish pub flair. Regulars sit on stools around a long bartop. A handful of booths and tables line the walls. A single closet-sized unisex bathroom is in the back, right before the kitchen entrance. As they suspected, the back door is tucked away on the opposite side of the kitchen.
Taking a seat at a corner booth, Ethan can barely see outside through a slit in the window shades. He should be able to spot threats inside the building, but lacks the line of sight to spot much of anything outside. Satisfied with the security of the situation, takes out his smartphone to report the basics to Anna and give her the go ahead.
Meanwhile, Ocean's Ten aren't the only ones conducting an operation tonight.
"Just as we trained fellas. Shock and awe. Violence of action is what's going to keep us safe. Now let's load up and get some.""Watcha drinkin' Hon?" a waitress asks.
Already distracted communicating with Anna on his smartphone, Ethan pauses for even longer. "Wait, does Code of Conduct apply here?" he thinks to himself. "I mean, I am on the job here. Then again, this isn't recreational. But what kind of hooch do they even have here? I don't want Anna's only backup to be completely shit-faced anyways. Yeah, I'll play it safe"
"A club soda, please!"
The waitress partially supresses a chuckle as she takes his order, "Okay, Hon."
The bartender rolls his eyes as he fills the order. Some of the regulars barside catch this and begin snickering amongst themselves. By now, it's a safe assumption that club soda is not a popular drink order in this establishment. Ethan can see a few of them cooking up a plan to approach the nerd in the corner.
The proverbial record skips as Anna makes her entrance into the tavern. She may not be the only girl in the room, but she walks in like a single girl ready to party.
Anna struts up to the bar and props herself amidst the regulars, "So who here's looking to buy a girl a drink?"
The bar erupts in laughter. It's a bold move, but she pulls it off with enough veiled sarcasm to work as a joke rather than a demand. Soon Anna has ingratiated herself with the crowd, and everyone has seemingly forgotten about the nerd in the corner.
Had a third man been keeping watch on the other two from outside, perhaps they would've noticed several vehicles pull up around the the corner of the tavern.
"Central, we are on objective. All elements radio check, and move to REDCON one."Had a third man been watching a radio scanner or spectrum analyzer, he likely would've detected a massive burst in tactical radio chatter.
With the entire bar wrapped around her finger, Anna begins making some assessments on who to focus on. As predicted, the key demographic of the tavern are blue-collar middle-aged caucasian men. Several of them wear small "ULM 323" buttons, which she suspects is an act of defiance against their recent ban. While any of the button wearers have potential as leads for intelligence, Anna is intrigued by one man who notably isn't wearing a union button. He's surprisingly well dressed and in group conversation, all the others seem to automatically defer to him. While this may be due to his classic alpha male personality, Anna suspects he may have some kind of hidden status over the others.
"Why, look at you. You look like a guy who can show a girl a good time."
He smiles and confidently answers her come on, as all the competing regulars melt away to give them privacy, "Girl, I've been all over this planetary system. A beauty like you belongs on glitterworld. Have you ever been to Rivendell?"
"Aw, you're so sweet! No, I haven't."
"Oh the things I could show a sweet little thing like you. What should I call you?"
"Well a guy like you can call me anything you want, but my name is Tanya."
The man's smartphone rings. Irritated by the interruption, he suddenly tells "Tanya" that he has to take this phone call and will be back shortly. Ethan is watching the exchange and sees him exit through the kitchen to take the phone call.
Had a third man been keeping watch outside, he would've then seen the mystery man trot to a parked car and speed off into the night.
Not entirely sure what just happened, Tanya stays optimistic gets back to work on other men at the bar. She settles on another man, a union button-wearer with a beard. He's reasonably well dressed and fairly sober to boot. They hit it off and Tanya establishes some great chemistry with him.
Before she can even get his name, the man's smartphone rings. He glances down at it and quickly excuses himself, "Sorry, I gotta use the john." Both operators see him pull off his union button and duck into the bathroom.
Had a third man been keeping watch outside he'd definitely have seen a dozen armed men pour out of their vehicles and converge upon the Shamrock Tavern. An authoritative figure in black tactical gear armed with a HK USP .40 radios in, "All assault elements stack on objective and prepare for dynamic entry. Breach on my mark."
Tanya quickly deduces that something is afoot, and doesn't want to be unarmed and surrounded by strangers in close quarters when it happens. Hoping to maintain their cover for reattempting operations another night, she signals Ethan for a discreet hasty exfil rather than an abrupt mission abort. As planned, both operators move independently to maintain cover. Ethan goes to the front door clutching his weapon claim ticket. Not wanting to wait for Ethan, Tanya moves for the back door through the kitchen.
Unfortunately, both exits are stymied.
Ethan looks for the bouncer to reclaim his weapon, but cannot find him. The moment he steps out the front door to check outside, he's blindsided and quickly thrown to the ground in a chokehold.
Meanwhile, Tanya tries to leave the bar, but her hand is grabbed from behind. She looks back to see a sloppy drunk making his desperate plea, "You know, a guy like me could take care of you. Why don't we talk for abit? Hey, you kinda look like my daughter."
Tanya tries to brush him off, "Oh, that's so sweet. But I need to go. Maybe we can meet up here tomorrow? Just ask for Tanya. I don't think I know your name?"
"Mark."A metallic canister rattles through the room and explodes in a blinding flash. Armed men crash through the front door, "H&W! ON THE GROUND!"
Impaired by the flashbang, Tanya isn't sure if she hit the ground voluntarily or was pushed down. As she recovers, she finds herself huddled on the ground with the rest of the tavern patrons. Men in dark blue windbreakers hold them at gunpoint, while the clatter of pots and pans suggests more are searching the kitchen. They're collectively armed with a variety of service pistols, and based on the dark blue ballcaps on their heads, not particularly armored unless they're wearing concealable body armor under their matching "H&W" lettered windbreakers. From her OSINT research, Tanya recognizes them as the AMR "Department of Health and Welfare."
For a moment, she's relieved it's not a more lethal agency. Then she sees a HK USP .40 in a drop leg holster. Trying to avoid eye contact, she quickly buries her head on the floor and works up a fake cry. With Greywater on the scene, all bets are off.
The Greywater operator surveys the scene proudly, his boots crunching on shards of glass shattered by the flashbang. "Textbook assault fellas. Just like we did in training. Great takedown on the squirter out front."
The door to the kitchen swings open, "Mr. Bauer, we got a jackpot here. All kinds of off-world contraband and currency."
The Greywater operator with a "J. Bauer" nametape (of course Greywater has a Jack Bauer) calls back, "Good find. Secure all suspects up front. Take them back in the kitchen one by one for field interrogation. You guys got this; I'm just advising and assisting."
The objective secure, the law enforcement agents holster their firearms and begin processing suspects in the tavern. They have no qualms manhandling their suspects, dropping a knee into prone suspects who resist too much. Pockets get literally ripped open in aggressive searches. Perhaps its her feigned weeping, or maybe just her lack of concealing clothing, but the agents are relatively gentle on her in comparison. An apparently all male force, her searcher awkwardly apologizes after hesitantly patting down her bra.
Jack Bauer steps outside to smoke a victory cigar as the lead agent reviews the amassed evidence with a subordinate. "Sir, almost everybody has a locally issued ID and AMR scrip. We haven't exploited any smartphones yet, but nothing stands out there. No weapons except for a few pocket knives. Though we did find some ULM 323 paraphernalia."
"Ha, thought we might get lucky with some ULM 323 shitheads in this neighborhood. Looks like we're going to have a full holding cell tonight. Who was missing ID?"
"The hooker and the squirter out front. She's probably just some refugee who found her way to the big city, but the squirter could be our HVT."
"The doctrinal term is 'Internally Displaced Person,' but otherwise I agree. I doubt she's licensed for erotic services, but we've already got enough paperwork ahead of us. Looks like the poor girl has already been through enough as it is."
Tanya is first to be brought back to the kitchen for field interrogation. She's hyperventilating the whole time, enough to mimic physical distress. Had she seen a mirror, she'd be greatly satisfied at how much of a hot mess she turned herself into. Messy wet tangles of hair with hideous streaks of black eyeliner down her face, she's truly a pathetic sight.
The lead agent offers her a glass of water, "It's all right ma'am. We just have a few questions for you."
Tanya meekly accepts the glass and wipes her runny nose.
The lead agent hands her a tissue from his pocket, "Your full name please."
Tanya blows her nose, "Frampton. Tanya Frampton."
"And where do you live Miss Frampton?"
"Oh... I'm sorry. I'm not from around here. I'm new in town. I don't remember its address."
"That's okay, Miss Frampton. I understand there's a lot going on in Anghabar these days. What kind of work do you do?"
Tanya stares at her feet, "Oh... I'm sorry. But I'm just a girl trying to hussle a dollar with having to give half of it up to Swearengen. I mean..."
The lead agent interrupts her, "This is a big city and you need to look out for yourself. A girl without protection could get roughed up or worse. I know the club fees look like a lot, but it's a small price to pay for your safety."
"I'm sorry. I'm just a dumb country girl who was never good at anything."
"Oh, don't be so hard on yourself. Time's are tough out there, but it'll get better once this labor dispute is settled. I'm sure you've seen stuff on the news, but have you seen anything suspicious since you came to town?"
"I'm sorry. I don't really follow the news. All that political stuff is too complicated for me. Um, so, no?"
"That's okay Miss Frampton. Did you have anything besides your phone and cash? Also, do you need a ride anywhere or can you make it back on your own?"
"No... I'm fine... I'm sorry I couldn't help you... I'm just so useless..." Tanya starts sobbing.
The lead agent hands her another tissue, "It's okay Miss. You know what they say about 'wrong place, wrong time' right? I'll give you a moment to clean yourself up. You can head out the back door when you're ready. Again, I recommend you sign on with a Swearengen Club. Also, don't forget to register for a new ID when you get the chance."
Tanya escapes the raid deeply satisfied that her act worked so well. Stepping inside the Landrover, she's glad she had to foresight to hide the keys inside the vehicle. Getting caught with the keys would have likely triggered a vehicle search. It wouldn't have taken long to find the AS Val carbine hidden under the vehicle seat. She'd sure have a hard time explaining how/why a dumb wannabe hooker is packing a sound suppressed full auto carbine.
Anna drives off in a circuitous route back to the safehouse. Confident such a route threw off any tailing surveillance, she flops down on her bed with a sigh. She can only hope Ethan got out as clean.
The lead agent slams Ethan's head against the side of the paddy wagon, "You can stop lying now. We already know who you are."
Ethan tries to shake off the hit, "Is that so?"
"We know you're from off-world. Tell us about the organized labor terrorists, and I'm sure the prosecutor will go easy on you."
"Easy on me? That's ironic. I sure as hell didn't go easy on your mother last night."
The lead agent slams the handcuffed operator against the paddy wagon again, "Cute, a gorram comedian too. I'll let your hard site interrogator know to get the party favors out."
Perhaps Ethan is abit overconfident in Agent Barclay's planned get-out-of-jail-free-card, but he's otherwise unfazed by this process. If all he has to do is run down the clock, might as well have some fun doing it.
After loading Ethan for transport, the lead agent goes to speak with Greywater's Jack Bauer. "The intel was right. The HVT is here and he sure is a joker."
"Off-world types tend to be. A guy like that isn't going to break on a field interrogation anyways. The sooner you can get him to a hard site, the better."
"Roger that. Dorothy's gonna find out she's not in Rivendell anymore."
Jack Bauer laughs, "You did your part well agent. Enjoy your jackpot, and leave the interrogating to the interrogator. They'll get a clown like him. It's always funny to me how much people's demeanor changes once you start breaking a few bones."
Wrapping up their operation, Jack Bauer decide to take a look at the HVT in the back of the paddy wagon. Ethan isn't blind-folded (yet) and the two operators make eye-contact. There's a glimmer of recognition, and Jack Bauer starts mouthing expletives to himself. He looks over his shoulder discreetly before shrugging apologetically. "Sorry, bro."
After almost an hour since leaving the Shamrock Tavern, Anna decides that Ethan must not have made it out of the raid. She sincerely believed Ethan could talk his way out of custody as well. Not wanted to risk contacting a man under scrutiny, she hasn't tried to call him. Yet again checking her smartphone, there's still no messages. Failure is never easy to plainly admit, but it was now time to call Agent Barclay at AMR CI/FP.
"...Health and Welfare? You got rolled by those pencil pushers? Is this a joke?"
"I'm afraid not, sir. It looks like a PMC has been providing them tactical training. I'm not sure we were even the target, but otherwise it was a competent intelligence-driven raid."
"I'm not sure if that was supposed to be good news or bad news. Either way, I expected better based on your reputation. Go to ground and don't try to contact me again. I'll see what I can do and call you back."
When the bag is pulled off Ethan's head, he finds himself alone in a dimly lit room. His hands are cuffed behind and he's seated infront of a metallic table. His thwarted attempts at standing indicate he's chained to the chair which is also securely bolted to the floor.
A voice behind him calls out mockingly, "Life Pro Tip. When trying to blend in with cityfolk, a foreigner should at least forge a local ID."
Ethan cranes his neck but still can't see who's behind him, "Ah, thank you! I'll keep that one in mind for next time."
"Oh, you're just a funny as I expected. I did expect smarter though."
"What do you mean? I'm so bright my mom calls me sun!"
"Very cute. But perhaps we should get down to brass tacks now? Let's start easy. We both know you're from off-world, would you mind telling us from where?"
"I come from my mother's womb. She's a lady who was really out of this world!"
"Oh, you like playing games I see? I consider myself a bit of a gamer as well. But we'll get to that. Let's try another. What is your business here on Anghabar?"
"Business? I'm not a business-man, I'm a business, man!"
"Well I was never much for classic hip hop, but I appreciate the reference."
Ethan feels a set of rough hands on his and then the handcuffs behind his back come free. "So I see you're a gamer such as myself. Would you so kindly put your hands on the table in front of you, I'd like to play a game with you? It's a game I'm sure you've played before."
"Better not be 'Seven Minutes in Heaven,' that would explain this lighting a lot."
"Oh, you're right that it's a childhood classic. But this one is much more pre-pubescent. You remember 'This Little Piggy,' correct?"
"Can we skip to the part where I go all the way home?"
"Ah, you do remember. You'd be surprised how many people don't these days. Personally, I blame the corruption of traditional Western culture by Asiatic influences, but..."
Ethan interrupts, "Who knew I'd find a white supremacist in the boonies of the Thiel system? Color me surprised."
The interrogator sounds irritated but pretends it doesn't bother him, "As I was saying... It's a childhood classic I'd like to play with you. As a fellow gamer, it seems like something that would be right up your alley."
"Rather basic don't you think? Do you take me as a casual gamer?"
"Oh, clearly you're hardcore. But, let's just say I've updated it for more mature audiences."
"You mean like Ron D. Moore did with Battlestar Galactica? Are we all secretly Cylons now? Spoilers, BTW."
"Not exactly." The interrogator tosses a claw hammer that rattles across the metallic table.
*RING* *RING*
Anna picks up a call from a blocked number on her smartphone. To her relief, it's Agent Barclay.
"Your story checks out. It looks like they detained him awhile ago. I'm already seeing him booked at a hard site detention center. If I were you, I'd make for the space port immediately, just in case they got something off him."
"Frak. Can you get him out?"
"I'll see what I can do. Goodbye."
With assorted chunks of his mangled hand scattered across the blood spattered table before him, Ethan has come to realize his improvised counter-interrogation strategy may not have been a good one.
"So you see, normally this is the part where the child calls out 'Again! Again!' You don't seem like you enjoyed this game that much though. You said you were a hardcore gamer, so I skipped straight to the claw-side game mode. Perhaps you needed the tutorial after all?"
Despite the pain and graphic body horror, Ethan's banter is dimininished, but not entirely defeated. "Well I wasn't expecting the Spanish Inquisition." He winces through the punchline, "But I suppose nobody really does, do they?"
"Indeed, though surely this can't be a surprise. You've been at this line of work long enough, correct? You never thought you'd end up in a place like this?"
"Guess I'm just a glass half-full kind of guy."
"Optimism isn't always misguided. After all, it doesn't have to end like this. Perhaps we can take a break from games and talk like men now?"
"...parlay?"
The interrogator smirks as he checks the tourniquet on Ethan's arm, "Clever, but I thought we were done with games."
Ethan straigtens up, "Sorry, bad habit."
"So, let's try a do over. Reload from an earlier save state you might say. Where are you from?"
Ethan pauses. He expected Agent Barclay would've released him by now, and he's not sure how much longer he can run down the clock. He definitely didn't think he'd be so readily dismembered either. He needs to give up something, but what?
Certainly not Anna. Ethan can only imagine what sadistic shit these animals are doing to her right now. She hasn't given up on him, and he's certainly not going to drop a dime on her for that.
Ocean PMC? Oh yeah, I'm a merc for hire, technologically engineered to cheat death, under contract to various shadowy powers of the often interstellar variety. Explaining that won't lead to consequences at all.
AMR CI/FP? Maybe, but burning the client is the ultimate business failure. If he was Mrs. Ocean, he'd fire him right the moment he got ship-side.
"I'm from off-world. Outside of Thiel even. I caught a ride in on the Mothership Leviathan."
"There you go. We're off to a good start now. Why did you come to the Thiel system?"
"...business. Plain and simple. There are things to be done here, and there's money to be made doing it."
"What kinds of things?"
"Lots of things. Anything really. Month to month, I follow the money."
"Okay, but for who?"
"Anybody and nobody. You know what they say. Got a need?" Ethan catches himself. "We're there with great speed."
"We? Who's we?"
Really doubting his counter-interrogation skills, Ethan decides to change tack again.
"Santa, and the rest of the elves."
"Is that some kind of code name?"
"Yeah, you know. Making a list, checking it twice, finding out who's naughty or nice?"
The interrogator sighs, "Are we playing games again?"
"No, I swear, our whole crew has this Christmas-themed code system. Reindeer are vehicles for example."
"Um, okay..."
"I mean, I'm just an elf, I didn't invent the code."
"Santa did?"
"Precisely."
"And who's this Santa?"
"No one knows. He insists on being called Kris Kringle. He has an intense commitment to OPSEC."
*KNOCK* *KNOCK*
"Not now!" the interrogator yells.
"Yes, now" a younger male voice replies assertively.
"Oh. You again. No need to flash the badge, I remember. I suppose you want to take over right now?"
"That's correct."
The young man crinkles his nose at the gruesome sight on the metal tabletop, "Hardcore mode again?"
"Indeed. Don't forget to keep an eye on the tourniquet. I'll leave you two to get acquainted."
The interrogator wipes his hands on his pants before he leaves, "One last freebee my elven friend. Life Pro Tip, unless you want to end up face down in a hole in the desert, you better answer any questions counterintelligence has for you."
The young CI agent waits for the interrogator to leave before moving to undo Ethan's chains. Exploiting their close quarters, he whispers "Barclay sends his regards. Keep quiet until we get to the car."
Ethan and his seized belongings get checked out of the hard site by the CI agent in relatively short order. His Colt Python revolver is notably missing, and he assumes the bouncer ran off with it. Ethan is guided into the back seat of a parked black SUV with heavily tinted windows. The CI agent takes the driver seat and then turns around to talk to Ethan, "We should be clear now. I'm Agent Lively with AMR CI/FP. Agent Barclay sent me. No offense, but I think it's best if you don't tell me your name or anything about your operation. Agent Barclay is big on compartmentalized ops."
"No offense taken, but what about the other one?"
"What other one?"
"You know, the girl?"
"What girl?"
"You know, from the Shamrock Tavern?"
"Barclay only told me to get you. Does this girl have a name or something?"
Ethan mimes two round mounds over his chest as he fails to recall her alias for this operation, "The hooker with the boobs."
"You want me to find a large breasted hooker for you? Guy, I've got order to take you straight to the space port. If you're looking to score after that, that's entirely on you."
"Gorramit, it's not like that. Just call Agent Barclay before we leave here. Frak, I can't remember her name."
Agent Lively dismissively turns the key in the ignition, "Damn, must've been some serious tits to make that kind of impression."
"TANYA! Her name was Tanya. Call Agent Barclay and ask if you need to pick up Tanya."
Agent Lively sighs and takes the key out of the ignition, "Fine, I'll call Barclay about 'Tanya.' You know, most people in your condition would've been asking for a doctor, but I guess you got other priorities, huh? Try not to bleed too much on the backseat while I make this phone call."
Agent Lively begrudingly steps out the vehicle to place a call. After a few minutes, he returns to the driver's seat. "You'll see her at the space port. Can we go already?"
It's only a short drive to the space port. The SUV stops in an alley nearby, "Safer for us all if you get out here and walk it in. I'm assuming the Hammerer never got down to the toes?"
"Yup, lucky me, right?"
"Heh, you're lucky he finally got the tourniquets all figured out. Used to be like Kill Bill up in there. Safe travels I guess."
Ethan finds his way to space port interplanetary terminal only to realize he's still ops sterile and without any identification. Finally able to safely call Anna on his smartphone, he finds the Wave secure communications app worked as designed: when technicians went to exploit his phone at the hard site, it purged all data from the phone including the Wave app itself. Stuck with a phone without contacts, all Ethan can do is awkardly loiter at the space port entryway.
With New Dublin as a modest sized city, the space port entryway is fairly busy with decent amount of foot traffic. Uniformed space port security eyes him warily, but everyone assumes the battered and bandaged man is some kind of harmless vagrant. Ethan catches on to this development and ends up idly panhandling a few credits in AMR scrip.
It's not too long before Anna unceremoniously finds him and they're both on the flight home to the Mothership Leviathan. However, now freed from immediate operational threats, they can't help but over-analyze how the mission went so wrong. While Anna is understandably horrified about what happened to Ethan, Ethan can't help but be resentful of how Anna got away without a scratch. Furthermore, it was her call as Team Leader to order hasty exfil at the tavern, as opposed to the "sprint to the back door" mission abort. Her optimistic final attempt to keep the intelligence operation viable led to their capture. When he later finds out just how long it took for Anna to call Agent Barclay, he can barely hide his anger. Ethan still likes Anna as a person, and thus never airs these accusations to her face, but no longer trusts her judgment as a fellow operator.
As they dock at the Mothership Leviathan, Ethan picks through his panhandling haul with his one good hand, trying not to worry about his tourniquet'd other becoming gangrenous. One of the folded bills turns out to be a handwritten note followed by a phone number and address.
"Ready to get even? Come find us. Your Colt and club soda are waiting."
Ethan shares his find with Team Leader Anna. She beams, "Ha, looks like we're not coming home empty handed."
"...phrasing..."
"Yikes, sorry. But I think this can be spun into something. If I write this up with my direct collection 'atmospherics,' the customer might pay out anyways."
After rushing Ethan to the medical clinic, Anna uses her HUMINT expertise to write a well-crafted intelligence report. Building off her OSINT research, she explains how the the Shamrock Tavern is/was ULM 323 terrorist meeting site with an illicit cache in the back kitchen. She also provides descriptions for all the people she met, and highlights the existence of an early warning network that enabled an apparent HVT to escape imminent capture. The report concludes with the clandestine note, stressing the tremendous opportunity for CI-driven double-agent operations.
Sam and Neil are impressed with Anna's intelligence product, and formally transmit it with the final deliverables to the customer, Agent Barclay of AMR CI/FP. In less than a day, they receive a response.
"It's a very professional intelligence product, however one-time intelligence wasn't what I hired you for. Furthermore, almost all that intelligence expired with the raid. No shit there was ULM 323 and a cache there, H&W literally just seized it all. Plus, I wouldn't have sent you to the Shamrock Tavern if we didn't already already know it was rife with ULM 323 activity. However, I will concede your confirmation of the HVT presence and the early warning network is of merit."
"What I did hire you for, was to identify and provide introductions for future intelligence assets, who could provide an ongoing stream of intelligence information or other capabilities going forward. Although it largely wasn't your fault, you mostly failed this task. The double-agent lead was exactly what I was looking for, but unfortunately it's tied solely to that clown of an operator I had to rescue from custody. From what I've heard out of New Dublin, that guy is nowhere near being ready for that kind of penetrating undercover work. After the shit I've read from H&W and others, I surprised you let him near any kind of intelligence field ops."
"In conclusion, I'm greatly disappointed in the services provided. Perhaps I was too generous with you last month, and you thought I was running a charity? I'll compensate you appropriately for what you delivered, but otherwise I'm not going to reward this amount of failure."
Mission Results: Mostly failure. Non-lethal opposition by Greywater. 1 WIA. 10k profit. Personnel notes updated on Data Sheet.
Plan Rating: Good (+1)
Roll (2d4): 6
Plan Execution Result: 7 - Very Good
Mission Difficulty Roll (2d4): 2 - Unexpected Nightmare (Critical Fail)
Operator Improvisation Roll (2d4): 3 - Incompetent
Author
Topic: Space Cowboys for Hire [Month 7] (New Blood Welcome) (Read 39720 times)