Silver Bullets Chapter 1:L'Arruolamento

[Imerak]

Boston, MA, U.S.A.
14:00 Local Time

The sky is grim and overcast after a recent rainstorm. The ground of the graveyard has turned to mud, adding more darkness to the resting place of the dead. Kneeling and bowing his head at one of the gravestones despite the environment is a tall, black-haired man.

Roger is snapped out of his reverie by a deep clearing of the throat. He opens his eyes and glances behind him. A tall man dressed in all black, his face shadowed by a large, black cowboy-style hat. "Mr. Thorton?" the man asks.

Earlier that day...
2:00 Local Time

Today was a good day for Cyrus Wolf. After pulling off a reasonable job, his employer had allowed him to stay in his house's basement. The man was currently curled up on a couch, breathing softly.

A tall figure dressed in all black leans down towards Cyrus, and loudly snaps his fingers into the thief's ears. Cyrus's eyes shoot open, peering up into the man's shadowed face. "Mr. Wolf?"

Paris, France
19:00 Local Time

Deep inside the grimy underbelly of Paris, Jean-Jacque Renaud sat inside his garage bored. Business had been slow lately, and the incidences of crimes in the neighbourhood high. The short, skinny man smiled when a man finally entered. Dressed head to toe in black, including his strangely menacing cowboy hat, the man was a bit stranger than his typical customers, but not much.

"Mr. Renaud, I presume?" the man asks in perfect French, but with an American accent.

Somewhere in Greece
12:00 Local Time

James Bronin peers curiously at the markings on the tablet fragment before him. He seems to be able to make out most of the Ancient Greek words, but some are obscured by millenia of weather and other circumstances.

"Having fun?" a deep voice says behind him, causing the brown-haired man to jump suddenly. He turns around to see a man dressed in all black behind him. "Mr. Bronin?

Cote d'Azur, Monaco
22:00 Local Time

The mysterious, beautiful woman laughs elegantly as she gambles a bit more of her money. The grinning lights and vibrant colours around her are as intoxicating as the drinks, and Monique finds herself truly getting into the games.

A tap on her shoulder causes the pretty blonde to turn away, puzzled at the man approaching her. He is a tall man in black, wearing a black cowboy hat. "Excuse me, Ms. er...Monique."

London, England
7:00 Local Time

Andrew Preston types away at his computer, at work despite the early hour. He is almost done taking care of his last job. With a 'ping', an Instant Messenger widnow pops up--strange, Andrew had turned off messages. He opens it, curious.

Are you Andrew Preston?

 

[rangerjohn]

Boston, MA, U.S.A.
14:00 Local Time

The sky is grim and overcast after a recent rainstorm. The ground of the graveyard has turned to mud, adding more darkness to the resting place of the dead. Kneeling and bowing his head at one of the gravestones despite the environment is a tall, black-haired man.

Roger is snapped out of his reverie by a deep clearing of the throat. He opens his eyes and glances behind him. A tall man dressed in all black, his face shadowed by a large, black cowboy-style hat. "Mr. Thorton?" the man asks.I]

Yes, what business do you have with a man in his hour of grief? Roger asks the stranger. As he turns from his contemplation of the grave.

 

[Imerak]

Yes, what business do you have with a man in his hour of grief? Roger asks the stranger. As he turns from his contemplation of the grave.

"Forgive me, it seems my timing leaves something to be desired," the man says in a tone of dark humour. "However, I have a proposition to make to you. I represent the mercenary organisation the Silver Bullets. Due to your knwon expertise in combat, we would like to offer you a job."

 

[rangerjohn]

"Well since loyalty goes for squat these days... What's the going rate for being a bullet?

 

[DrZombie]

Paris, France
19:00 Local Time

Deep inside the grimy underbelly of Paris, Jean-Jacque Renaud sat inside his garage bored. Business had been slow lately, and the incidences of crimes in the neighbourhood high. The short, skinny man smiled when a man finally entered. Dressed head to toe in black, including his strangely menacing cowboy hat, the man was a bit stranger than his typical customers, but not much.

"Mr. Renaud, I presume?" the man asks in perfect French, but with an American accent.

"Bonjour monsieur. You are lost, non? This is not the area you wanna get lost in, monsieur. It's perhaps good to leave while there is still some daylight left. Eiffel tower is third street on the right, then follow for twenty miles, oui?....

Or is there something else you want to discuss with me? You better come into my office then."

Jean-jaques motions the man to proceed to a small office in the back. The door is open, the stereo is at full blast. When they enter, Jean-Jacques turns the volume down to a somewhat less deafening volume.

"Miles Davis, un americain comme toi. Absolute best trompetplayer ever. He was a bit smarter and moved to Paris, though." he says, smiling at his own wit.
"Now, to business. You don't have any cameras on you so I doubt you came to see the eiffeltower anyway"

 

[reveal]

Somewhere in Greece
12:00 Local Time

James Bronin peers curiously at the markings on the tablet fragment before him. He seems to be able to make out most of the Ancient Greek words, but some are obscured by millenia of weather and other circumstances.

"Having fun?" a deep voice says behind him, causing the brown-haired man to jump suddenly. He turns around to see a man dressed in all black behind him. "Mr. Bronin?

"I'm sorry, I didn't hear you come in." James picks up a rag and slowly wipes his grimey hands, studying the man as he does so.

"Am I having fun? Why yes I am, as a matter of fact. This tablet," James thumbs over his shoulder towards his study, "is probably older than any of our ancestors. I'm not sure what it says but I will. I always do."

He puts the rag down as he finishes with his hands. Over the years, James has learned not everyone can be trusted. As he extends his hand to the stranger, he watches for any sudden movement or change in attitude.

"Is there something I can help you with?"

 

[Awakened]

Earlier that day...
2:00 Local Time

Today was a good day for Cyrus Wolf. After pulling off a reasonable job, his employer had allowed him to stay in his house's basement. The man was currently curled up on a couch, breathing softly.

A tall figure dressed in all black leans down towards Cyrus, and loudly snaps his fingers into the thief's ears. Cyrus's eyes shoot open, peering up into the man's shadowed face. "Mr. Wolf?"

Cyrus, being painfully hungover after a drinking binge from the night before, awakens startled by the finger snaps. The incessant flicks sound to him like a thousand hammers connecting with steel. As his eyes focus on the man in black, Cyrus reaches slowly into his black trenchcoat.
Cyrus pushes his long dark locks to the side with his other hand to view the mysterious figure without obstruction.
"Mind telling me just who the hell you are, buddy?" Cyrus says as his right hand feels for the hard grip of his Ingram. "I was told that I wouldn't be disturbed as long as I stay here, and my employer isn't one to lie. I'm telling you right now that if his corpse is curled into a bloody mess upstairs, I'm gonna be upset." A nearly imperceivable grin forms on Cyrus' unshaven face.


(OCC- GM, please see OCC thread.)

 

[Jarval]

London, England
7:00 Local Time

Andrew Preston types away at his computer, at work despite the early hour. He is almost done taking care of his last job. With a 'ping', an Instant Messenger widnow pops up--strange, Andrew had turned off messages. He opens it, curious.

Well that's weird. Who'd be messaging me? And why the hell are they asking me my name? Andrew looks doubtfully at the screen for a moment.

Aww, heck, if someone was out to get me, they wouldn't have used my name now would they? He thinks, then starts to type.

Yeah, it's me. Who're you?

 

[Lichtenhart]

Cote d'Azur, Monaco
22:00 Local Time

The mysterious, beautiful woman laughs elegantly as she gambles a bit more of her money. The grinning lights and vibrant colours around her are as intoxicating as the drinks, and Monique finds herself truly getting into the games.

A tap on her shoulder causes the pretty blonde to turn away, puzzled at the man approaching her. He is a tall man in black, wearing a black cowboy hat. "Excuse me, Ms. er...Monique."

A hint of worry crosses the woman's forehead before she flashes a charming smile. "Bonsoir, Monsieur!" she goes on in english but with a heavy french accent. Unnaturally heavy, in fact, but most people never noticed it.
"How curious, Monique is my second name. My full name is Françoise Monique Treville, but most people here know me only as Françoise. Have we already met, monsiur? I think not, for I would remember such a homme. Would you join me for a couple hands of Blackjack?"
She picks a couple hundred euros of fiches from her stacks and puts them in front of the empty seat beside her.

 

[Imerak]

Roger

"Well, it depends on the job," the man says, amused. "But it's usually fairly high...in the five or six digit range per contract."

Jean-Jacque

"Actually, I've come to offer you a job." He pauses, seeming to consider something. "Not that we aren't impressed with what you do here. In fact, it is because of your skill that we are questioning you. Would you be interested in helping some mercenary work along."

James

The man shakes James's hand. "Yes, your field of study is well known to me. In fact, it is due to your expertise in this field along with your other skills that I am making this offer. I offer you a high-paying but dangerous job as a mercenary."

Cyrus

"Relax," the man says in an amused tone. "Your employer is perfectly fine, at least at the moment. I am sorry for breaking his promise, but I am not here to harm you. Who I am is not important. I represent the Silver Bullets mercenary group, and we are interested in hiring you."