Project Duct Tape [Spycraft]

[Raurth Snowfang]

"Ahhhh, thats good!"

After satiating his needs Matthaniel walks back to his seat and settles in for the long haul to San Fran.

 

[Pbartender]

...He stands up and moves towards the toilets...

On his way back to the toilets, Matthaniel notices a gentleman sitting in the back row. The fellow looks like any other business traveler... Trim haircut and a dark grey suit quietly filling out the crossword puzzle of the London Times. Normally, such a man would be completely innoccuous on a trans-atlantic flight. What catches Matthaniel's eye is fact that he's doing the crossword puzzle while wearing a pair of dark sunglasses.

He looks oddly familiar, but Matthaniel can't seem to place the stranger's face... Deja vu?

...After satiating his needs Matthaniel walks back to his seat and settles in for the long haul to San Fran...

On his way back to his seat, Matthaniel catches a glimpse of the crossword puzzler from behind, and his memory clicks... The crazy driver in the black sedan that brought him to the airport!

 

[Tanstaafl]

Season One: The Case of the Missing Opera Singer;
Serial 1; Mission Briefing.

Mr. Crimson, Mr. Indigo, Mr. Jameson, and Mr. Slate disembark from their planes at approximately the same time - in the case of Mr. Jameson and Mr. Slate at precisely the same time.

It is currently 7am in San Francisco, the sun is rising brilliantly over the mountains. The sky is very blue with almost no haze or smog visible and there is a slight breeze coming in off the ocean. It is a balmy 70 degrees and promises to be one of those golden days that make the rest of America envy Californians.

Mr. Slate pulls a card out of his briefcase with the names Crimson, Indigo, and Jameson written on it & stands near the airport’s exit.

 

[Pbartender]

Mr. Slate pulls a card out of his briefcase with the names Crimson, Indigo, and Jameson written on it & stands near the airport’s exit.

Jameson finds the sunglassed gentleman waiting for him at the airplane's exit gate.

"Mr. Jameson?" The stranger offers a handshake, "Mr. Slate, Global Tours, Inc. I've been assigned as your tour guide during your stay here in California. If you would follow me, sir?"

Mr. Slate leads the way to baggage claim, where he picks up his own small duffle. "If you don't mind waiting, Mr. Jameson, the rest of the tour group is scheduled to meet here in a few minutes." Leaning against a convenient rail, he pulls the Times out from under his arm, and begins reading. Today's headlines read: INDIGO PLANTATION STRIKES CONTINUE and CRIMSON TIDE THREATENS FLORIDA BEACHES

 

[Raurth Snowfang]

"Global Tours Inc? Can't the CIA come up with a better name than that? They are meant to be the Central Intelligence Agency after all..."

Jameson allows himself to be ushered towards the baggage claim, after his quick departure from England he has, of course, no baggage to claim. He carries all he needs, laptop, shades and fags.

"Sure, no problem Mr.Slate. I'll just stop by the duty free and pick me up some essentials."

Jameson dissappears into the crowd of travellers, only to return ten minutes later with four hundred marlboro reds under his arm and an obviously cheap washbag.

Noticing Mr. Slate's strange look he shrugs simply and says:"Heh, well, these are essential, really... I mean, can't go on a Global Tour without em.. heh heh heh."

Jameson chuckles to himself nervously, he hates jobs like these. He often wonders why he strives so hard to be the best at what he does. Then it clicks, he wouldn't be happy otherwise.

 

[Pbartender]

"Global Tours Inc? Can't the CIA come up with a better name than that? They are meant to be the Central Intelligence Agency after all..."

"The C-I-who?"

Originally posted by Raurth Snowfang "Heh, well, these are essential, really... I mean, can't go on a Global Tour without em.. heh heh heh."

"This is your first time taking a vacation with Global Tours, isn't it?" Mr. Slate asks off-handedly, still reading the paper.

OOC: Raurth, could you please disable your signature when posting in-game? Thanks.

 

[Snowtiger]

Jason makes his way off the plane thinking "Nice to be in first class for a change." He recalls the flight attendent indicating baggage claim carousel 4 and heads that way. "Dang. Only an hour to get my bags and make it to HQ. Would've been nice to get a shower and clean clothes before the meeting. Oh well.. they've seen me looking rumpled before." As he walks to the entrance to baggage claim he notices a guy reading a newspaper. Not so out of the norm except for the headlines that blare "INDIGO PLANTATION STRIKES CONTINUE." He chuckles to himself at the cloak-and-dagger. *hrumph* He clears his throat and says "Too bad about those Indigo Plantation talks, isn't it."

 

[Pbartender]

"You've got that right," Slate agrees with the newcomer, "Levi's stock is gonna take a nose-dive."

"You're here for the tour." It wasn't a question. "Mr. Slate, Global Tours, Inc. I'll be your guide and chauffer.

"As soon as the last guest gets here, we'll get going."

 

[Snowtiger]

"Ah, good to meet you Mr. Slate. I am Mr. Indigo. *smiles* So, where's the tour bus? Glad I don't have to go through the #1 Club line to get a rental. Not supposed to be a pain but it always is."

 

[Douane]

* A rather enjoyable flight. It's been quite a while since I could just lean back and enjoy the ride, instead of jumping out of a perfectly fine plane. Ahh, those were the days... *

Conrad retrieves his travel-bag from the baggage claim and strolls casually towards the exit.

* Hmm, nice weather; almost perfect for some sight-seeing. Alas, the job takes precedence, so perhaps later. *

While walking he keeps a constant vigil, always alert to his surroundings. Sooner than later his eyes settle on a trio of men standing near the airport gate, one of them reading a newspaper. When Conrad catches a glimpse of the headlines, he smiles inwardly. Contemplating them he wonders who of them would be "Indigo".
When Conrad hears the shades-wearing chain-smoker talk, he can't contain a slight grin, glancing down at his own old shades, safely tucked away in his breastpocket. He hadn't worn them for a long time, but still carried 'em around.
* I wonder, if he's one of the boys. Oh well, we'll see about that. *


"A real tradegy, that Crimson tide, isn't it?," Conrad asks, indicating the headline with his index finger. "I'll bet the environmentalists will have a field day with it."