Board Thread:Role Plays/@comment-5999656-20190205035159/@comment-25924729-20190205133421

"Copy that. Ready to move on your signal."

Several miles down the coast, the old police inspector dressed in tactical gear put down his radio and watched the facility through a pair of binoculars. Night vision technology made the distant lights flare green, the music could be heard all the way from here. "Looks like things are starting..."

Two dozen SWAT officers behind him mumbled something incoherent. He couldnt blame them for not being too happy with tonight's events. The men knew they were outclassed in almost every way, just from looking at the outsides, there were hundreds of guards on the walls, possibly hundreds more inside, God knows how many Huntsmen level fighters. The ones inside were literally the most dangerous people on the planet, the entire facility was a bloody death trap!

And on the other side.... a little under 50 people dressed in basic tactical police vests and rifles, a few small boats to ferry them to the site, and that was all. No air support, no backup, no heavy weaponry, nothing. Overall diagnosis, tonight's mission was a damned suicide run!

The superiors were clearly drunk, stupid or both to approve of this. Many times, he'd considered calling off the mission, telling everyone it was hopeless and they shoud just go home. But the threat of losing their jobs, and the lure of so many high value targets in one building was simply too much...

Still... there was a little hope. Nearby, sitting in a sleek white armoured truck, easily the most well equipped of the squad, were 12 people who maybe, just maybe could even the odds. They wore advanced armour, carrying strange weapons and technology even he couldnt understand, emblazoned with a triangle insignia and the words 

The infamous SAINT division of Narreau Tech. Soldiers affiliated with the Atlesian military, but really loyal to the company that made all their equipment, not the most skilled or well trained fighters, but using some of the best equipment any soldier in the world could have. Basically a private army that fought under the orders of the Narreau herself, occasionally sent to interfere in wars, military or police operations that interested the company, like tonight's.

Of course, he had no illusion that they were doing this out of a sense of justice, duty or charity. he had heard the rumours of Narreau's dealings with the criminal underworld.

ANGELs.

Behind the masks of these strange soldiers were men from a strange world. One where vice, crime and violence were simply a natural state of being. Where more often than not, a drink to toast another's health contained poison in the glass; where the path to success and wealth was through stabbing many, many friends in the back, both metaphorically and literally.

Killers, assassins, mercenaries, criminals.

If they survived tonight, whoever sent these people would simply replace the criminals they put behind bars or removed. Killing or arresting a few dozen major players in the underworld would cause a vacuum of power the ANGELs would not ignore. They would move in, subdue or destroy the weakened gangs and take over their business and territory themselves. Perhaps the new rulers would be kinder than the old ones, perhaps the rotten underworld would flourish and grow even worse under their rule. Who knew?

Still... they were here to help, and if just for tonight, having the devil fighting at their sides would help the unlucky officers under his care survive, the inspector would gladly accept...

...then again, he could be completely wrong. Moving over to the truck, he met the young girl with blonde hair, an oversize sword and massive grin on her face. Not at him, but focused on a little device in her hands, little beeps and whimsical music were accompanied by her grunts of concentration, trying to guide coloured cubes into rows and columns.

The commander of this professional army, mere minutes away from entering a high stakes, dangerous mission.... was playing Tetris.

Jaw twitching a little, the inspector cleared his throat loudly, catching her attention long enough to relay what their mole inside the facility said. Jett just grunted, more focused on her game than the instructions… “Right! Men, move out and get the gear ready. I…. I, I’ll be there in a minute… gotta clear this level first, gah!”

As the SAINTs exited the truck and began preparing the boats for launch, the inspector sighed and rubbed his beard in irritation. He really hoped these soldiers weren’t as childish and unreliable as their commander appeared…