08-08-2018, 03:26 PM
Department of Internal Security Headquarters, Litudinem
Aug. 8 - Morning
After nearly 14 accumulated hours of sifting through the body cam fee from the failed capture of Suspect No. 143567, the man who was responsible for the killing of the Maximusian VP, David Von Jí¸nes saw it. It was only in two frames of one body came, but it was all Jí¸nes needed. In the corner of the frame was a van, slowly inching its way away from the scene. This wouldn't be unusual, there are lots of vans on the road at midnight, had it not been for one thing: the trajectory. The van was pointed in a direction that meant it was coming from out behind the motel. This was strange, the motel had no occupants aside from Suspect: 143567, in addition, there was nothing behind the motel except from some jagged rocks and an overgrown plateau. It had been assumed, based on the fact that Suspect 143567's car was still at the motel, that the suspect had escaped on foot. This meant that that was false.
On another monitor, Jí¸nes inputed the extremely blurred license plate number that was only visible in one of the frames: QP7-CT23. The van was registered to an Enterprise car rentals operating in Augustine International Airport. Jí¸nes grabbed a phone and placed the call.
Unknown Location
Aug. 8 - Morning
Vilav Trotsky was, yet again, sitting in the same folding chair sitting in the same dimly lit room as when he had first met Gen. Chloe Conde. This time, a short, blond woman sat in front of him.
"You should be dead," she stated nonchalantly before slapping him across the face.
"Listen!" Trotsky exclaimed suddenly before violently twisting the woman's arm before she could pull it back. Trotsky released after the woman had cried out in pain. That was what Trotsky was after. Hey stared deeply into her eyes, massaged his stinging face, and began.
"Do not believe that I care in the slightest for your scummy nation. It has more than earned its place in hell. The only nation I care about, or are even the slightest bit interested in, is Libertas Omnium Maximus. I will save them from their Democratic state. I will bring them into the light. I will make them see! I am an expert saboteur, that is why you want me. You know that my bomb will not fail. I'm reliable, the best in business even. That is why you want me. You know that I can eliminate, any target you want, so long as I have the supplies. That is why you want me. Yes, that stupid driver may have foiled my plan last time, but I will not fail again! I want 20 of your best covert operatives, $12,000, enough fake ID's to get me and my team back into Libertas Omnium Maximus. If you do this, I will kill the President, I will kill the secretary of defense, I will cut the head off the snake. I just need your supplies. Do we have an agreement?"
The woman snarled and shook hands with Trotsky.
"Pleasure doing business with you. One thing though, if you do fail, we will hunt you down and kill you."
Trotsky smiled, "I wouldn't dream of it."
Aug. 8 - Morning
After nearly 14 accumulated hours of sifting through the body cam fee from the failed capture of Suspect No. 143567, the man who was responsible for the killing of the Maximusian VP, David Von Jí¸nes saw it. It was only in two frames of one body came, but it was all Jí¸nes needed. In the corner of the frame was a van, slowly inching its way away from the scene. This wouldn't be unusual, there are lots of vans on the road at midnight, had it not been for one thing: the trajectory. The van was pointed in a direction that meant it was coming from out behind the motel. This was strange, the motel had no occupants aside from Suspect: 143567, in addition, there was nothing behind the motel except from some jagged rocks and an overgrown plateau. It had been assumed, based on the fact that Suspect 143567's car was still at the motel, that the suspect had escaped on foot. This meant that that was false.
On another monitor, Jí¸nes inputed the extremely blurred license plate number that was only visible in one of the frames: QP7-CT23. The van was registered to an Enterprise car rentals operating in Augustine International Airport. Jí¸nes grabbed a phone and placed the call.
Unknown Location
Aug. 8 - Morning
Vilav Trotsky was, yet again, sitting in the same folding chair sitting in the same dimly lit room as when he had first met Gen. Chloe Conde. This time, a short, blond woman sat in front of him.
"You should be dead," she stated nonchalantly before slapping him across the face.
"Listen!" Trotsky exclaimed suddenly before violently twisting the woman's arm before she could pull it back. Trotsky released after the woman had cried out in pain. That was what Trotsky was after. Hey stared deeply into her eyes, massaged his stinging face, and began.
"Do not believe that I care in the slightest for your scummy nation. It has more than earned its place in hell. The only nation I care about, or are even the slightest bit interested in, is Libertas Omnium Maximus. I will save them from their Democratic state. I will bring them into the light. I will make them see! I am an expert saboteur, that is why you want me. You know that my bomb will not fail. I'm reliable, the best in business even. That is why you want me. You know that I can eliminate, any target you want, so long as I have the supplies. That is why you want me. Yes, that stupid driver may have foiled my plan last time, but I will not fail again! I want 20 of your best covert operatives, $12,000, enough fake ID's to get me and my team back into Libertas Omnium Maximus. If you do this, I will kill the President, I will kill the secretary of defense, I will cut the head off the snake. I just need your supplies. Do we have an agreement?"
The woman snarled and shook hands with Trotsky.
"Pleasure doing business with you. One thing though, if you do fail, we will hunt you down and kill you."
Trotsky smiled, "I wouldn't dream of it."