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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Calinon" data-source="post: 1538476" data-attributes="member: 13737">ChinaKevinYou don't have to wait long.  With the high pitched whine of high powered engines, a long line of motorcyles, most on wheels but some using hover-technology, roar into town.  People scramble to get out of the way of the bikers, who bring their bikes to a halt in the market and in front of the town hall.   There are at least 20 of them, all dressed in grey and red leathers, with red helmets.  One exceedingly large man gets off his bike.  He stands a hand over six feet, and is extremely muscular.  His gloves are spiked on the knuckles, he has chains forming an X over his chest and has a few oriental looking weapons tucked in his belt.  His helmet has a red rose emblazoned on its front.  As he takes it off, you see he is Chinese, and has a long scar on his left cheek. "You two," he says to two bikers next to him.  "Go pay a visit to the old man."  With that order, the two peel off and head towards Master Wen's compound. "Listen up!" he shouts, making himself heard.  "You listened to that fool on the hill, and stopped paying us your tribute?  Well, we're here to collect what's due us!  Your back-payment is due today, and we'll take it in cash or out of your property!" With that, the other bikers dismount, drawing clubs, crowbars, staves and a few swords threateningly. Note:  All talk is, of course, in Chinese. Raisa"Maybe I don't want peace and quiet," she harumphs. "Oh, pout well practiced!" Master Wen laughs on observing Dara's face.  "But not work on Master Wen.  You do homework.  Tomorrow, instead of dojo training, you spend time in meditation with Master Wen.  It be nice to speak to someone in Chinese for change too," he says cheerfully. You hear the faint buzz of what might be a motorcycle engine in the distance. X12Xi thinks for a while.  "I think our father believed that teaching us certain things would prevent us from asserting free will.  He was always attempting to force us into, what he called, emotional deta... ...chment.  Without it, you will be vulnerable," you heard your father say as you tried, without success, to strike the trainer.  The trainer mocked you at every miss.  It enraged you, and you swung with violent power.  But too much power, and never enough skill, missing more and more wildly as your moves became telegraphed. "Your rage makes you weak," you heard your father say disapprovingly.  You wanted nothing more than to attack him, not this fool instructor.  "Clear your mind.  Do not pay attention to his insults.  Focus yourself; watch his movements; and strike him." Despite yourself, you listened to your father, trying to lose the rage within you.  It was hard, and you knew why.  Directive 10 was manipulating your emotions again, driving you to anger.  You would not let it work.  Slowly you forced the emotions down, muting them.  You felt them bubbling beneath the surface, but refused to acknowledge them. "Yes, that is it," you heard your father say.  "The emotions make you week.  Drive them from your mind and use it instead to analyze your target for weaknesses." You felt Directive 10, that lapdog of your father, driving his power into you, and fought back. Pop! It was nearly audible, your victory over the emotional control of Directive 10.  They were gone, or rather, locked away.  You saw your instructor's moves more clearly.  They were flawed in that he didn't see that you weren't angry anymore.  He was being sloppy; leaving openings.  Openings you could exploit.  Moments later, you stood over the unconscious man.  You found no joy in your victory; you had succeeded, and that was all that mattered. "Well done," said your father, coming from his booth.  Directive 10 looked just like Directive 7, but was nothing like her.  7 had always tried to aid you.  10 was always working with your father to break you.  "What have you learned?" "Detaching myself from my emotions can bring me success," you replied. "Good.  Now, a test.  You consider Directive 7 a friend, do you not?" he asked.  You nodded in response.  "She is in the mess with the others.  I want you to take this knife and kill her," he said, handing you a long knife. You took the knife, looking at it.  It's edge gleamed, and it had grooves in the top to allow for bleeding.  It was heavy, and could be used to chop as well, probably better than a hatchet.  You were already walking towards the mess, thinking of the most efficient method to kill her. You blinked your eyes as the vision faded, and found yourself holding your hand as if you wielded a knife.  You open it, half expecting to hear a clatter of the blade on the floor, but instead hear the sound of approaching motorcyles.  Xi is standing by the door, looking out towards town with a cautious expression on his face. Flying Towards New YorkAs you approach New York, Vincent lets you know he's on his way back to HQ.  Then Mendez contacts the plane. "Johan, I need you to fly directly to Methesda Ironworks.  Thunder is en route as well.  The other team ran into some problems it sounds like.  I'm sending Tara by air that way as well. (OOC:  Don't ask me what happened to Tara, I lost her somewhere! <img src="https://cdn.jsdelivr.net/joypixels/assets/8.0/png/unicode/64/1f61b.png" class="smilie smilie--emoji" loading="lazy" width="64" height="64" alt=":P" title="Stick out tongue    :P"  data-smilie="7"data-shortname=":P" /> )  And tell Cosmo to be careful.  Landing a jet in a parking lot isn't exactly a piece of cake, and his rating on VTL isn't all that great." New York -- Methesda"I'm quite certain you are mistaken.  We don't do business with mercenaries, and certainly not ones wanted by the law.  It's probably just an old entry before he became such a noteable criminal," Falcon says smoothly.  "In fact, if memory serves me, he was passing himself off as a security company," he adds.   "I still can't allow you to simply walk off with sensitive materials, regardless of whether it involves former or current clientelle.  And any further damage to our property by you will simply be added to the bill our insurance company shall be sending EPIC," he says to Sanjay, unaffected by the intimidation tactic and gaining confidence. "Since this Split person is a criminal, I will be more than happy to provide you with the information we have on him.  However, if you do not hand over the papers you have illegally obtained, which, I might add, makes them inadmissable in any sort of legal venue, I will instruct the Chief and Captain here to take them from you," he says looking around and noticing that you are relatively banged up.  "I may consider spending the time to contact our client who had their trucks stolen to secure permission to release confidential data, but I will not do so if you continue with your criminal actions." "Wow," SJ's dad says to him.  "I'd like to break my foot off in his arse, I tell you what." Both the Chief and Captain remain where they stand, but do shift very slightly, in case they are ordered to take the papers.  A second cannon appears on the Chief's left arm with a shifting of plates and circuitry.</blockquote>

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