Board Thread:Role Plays/@comment-25389303-20160708180726/@comment-5999656-20160719003121

As the night finally settled in, the first aerial wave of the attack commenced. Three dozen of planes whirred on the horizon, ranging from sleek fighter planes to heavier explosive-ladled carriers. None of them were bigger than a standard passenger airship, but nonetheless they began their onslaught from all four cardinal directions. As the fighter planes zipped around, barely visible in the night sky, the bombs began falling over the Goldmine. it was an elaborate pattern: as one dropper flew overhead and released a load, another was a few hundred meters behind it, in position to maintain a continuous barrage for at least an hour. Meanwhile, divisions of footsoldiers, so heavily armored that it was impossible to tell whether they were man or android, were spread throughout the forest upward of the base. They had with them bulletproof Jeeps and movable turrets, all courtesy of multiple trusted benefactors.

_____________________

Zanipher was sitting at her desk. Now that the conflict with the Patched had progressed to the open warfare phase, far beyond her specialty, there was little she could contribute directly to the fighting. So she was nestled back home, in the safety of her corporate building after closing hours, waiting for a special delivery.

She refreshed her private email for what felt like the twentieth time. Tez had told her that they should finish compiling the information by tonight. Hopefully that meant before midnight, as Zan was no fan of pulling all-nighters.

A knock came at the door, and she positively jumped up to open it. When she did, her cousin was facing her, clutching a neat manila folder in his left hand.

"Heya, Zan. Here's what we were able to gather in just under a week."

As Zanipher placed the folder on her desk and sat down, Tez leaned over her shoulder to read her response.

"We sent some members into Mistral to investigate the top dogs there. By following the drug trade back to its origin, we were able to get ahold of the figure we think Hector was talking about." Tez pulled out a photo from underneath the page Zan was reading. A distinctive pencil sketch of a trenchcoat wearing male figure; a birdskull mask was the most prominent of the drawing.

"One of our artists sketched this based off the descriptions we got from some of the grey market traders. Witch Doctor 2.0, he's the main supplier of some of the most desired drugs in the world right now, and it's very possible someone as major as him would be part of the Patched."

Zanipher nodded. That was someone you couldn't possibly pass by on the street without doing a double take.

"We've yet to locate him, but this image and the fact that all the channels run back to him should be good enough to go off of for further investigations. Apparently he never takes that mask off. And here," Tez said, sliding out another page, "Is Smiler. We ran a database check with the image that one of the team snapped of his face without the mask. We had to photoshop the Glasgow grin and the bigger scars out, but it matches a profile. Veneni Sitis, 23 years old, son of the mobster kingpin Sanguine Sitis.  He fell off the grid after the age of fifteen, probably because he entered the underworld at this time. He has one brother though, probably works in the Patched as well."

Zanipher nodded. This was excellent info, even if it wasn't enough to launch a covert counteroffensive. But even that might not be necessary, now that the Patched's base was about to be razed.

"Well done, Tez," she said, glancing at her right-hand man from across her shoulder. She received a tired smile in response.

"Well, I'll just leave the packet to you. Goodnight."

"Goodnight," Zanipher responded dutifully.