Sarah Willis
I AM THE JUSTICE, NOT YOU
Vicinity of Cabezon de Valderaduey, Valladolid, Spain.
Local time 4:32 PM.
Sarah leans back, smiling, the tree offering scant shade. She was dressed light; while 78 degrees isn’t exactly hot, it’s clear she’s more used to cooler climates. “You see that new building? Only one in town that looks like money went into it in the past decade?”
It’s pretty obvious. 2 stories, concrete and glass a stark contrast to the stucco walls and corrugated tin Modus Operandi that the rest of the town settled into sometime in the past eternity. The distinct impression of looking at a bad photoshop job comes to mind.
“Place is a farming village. No money for something like that, right? It was Morninglight, at first. Now, who knows.” She finally stands, pulling her loose ponytail a bit tighter. “You up to find out?”
Anna’s dressed light too. Khaki-colored, vaguely military (though vague enough that it could be taken as a fashion statement) pants, white tank top, and a hiker’s backpack with the rest of the gear she’s brought along contained within. Needless to say, it looks a bit on the heavy side. She nods, “Yeah, let’s. You can take th’ entrance, work from there, I can start from th’ roof and work my way down.”
“Arright. They probably don’t expect us, but intel shows they’re armed, so don’t get killed.” Sarah grins, offering a thumbs up. “Folks just left to go work the fields a bit more before sundown, so we’re moving quick. Look for anything that screams ‘filth cult’; from my understanding, up high is a little more interested in finding something to rub in the Templar’s faces than doing their job for them, so the more egregious, the better.”
She stands, a knife, a pistol, and the clothes on her back, and nods at Anna. “Lemme know right before you enter. I’ll make some noise.” With that, she jogs down the gentle hill to the edges of town, settling into a casual saunter as she walks openly down the main streets toward the imposing structure.
“Understood. I’ll let y’ know.” She follows Sarah but branches off from her as they get into town, taking side-streets and alleys to a spot behind the building, crouching down out of sight as she preps her own gear, snapping her mostly flashbang-and-smoke laden harness in place over her tank top, checking her pistol, and attaching her trusted blackened steel machete to her harness. She takes a deep breath, closes her eyes, counts down from ten. Work face time.
She hoists a pistol-like device out of the pack and fires it up at the edge of the roof, an ultra-high-tension bundle of monofilament wires attached to a spike embedding itself in the concrete with little more than a “whoosh - chnk”, and begins to quickly, quietly, carefully scale the side of the building. If she spotted an entrance on the roof, she’ll make her way up there, otherwise she’ll take position by a window, hanging just out of sight, occasionally glancing in to get a read on what’s inside and time herself accordingly.
No roof entrance, but as Sarah suggested, the building is mostly empty for the time being. One tired-looking fellow shuffling papers in what could be charitably called a classroom (though the Morninglight symbology implies a more religious bent than one might expect) on the second floor, but the other three rooms seem clear.
No obvious office windows, either, on the fairly small structure. It seems the exterior bits of the second floor are entirely outreach, no administration. If there’s anything, it’d be deeper in.
Sarah crackles in. “Yo, inside, in the bathroom. You want me to make some noise, or chill for a while?”
Anna responds back. Voice flat. Statements terse. It’s her but it’s not her, “Clear. Chill. I’ll scout ahead.” She’d check to see if there’s a way to get in from her position first, then, if she doesn’t spot anything, takes the ultra-sharp glass cutter from her belt, and cuts a circle into the window, large enough to fit through, climbs in, landing in a crouch, moving quickly to find a hiding spot, then starting to explore the second floor. Ideally she’ll want to skip past the outreach rooms - not what they’re looking for.
The windows are willing to creak open, but only under duress and with much very loud complaint. Inside, it’s rather clean for a dusty farming community, a vacuum being audibly run on the first floor evidently a common measure.
The interior of the structure is beige walls and blue floors, a network of offices on one side, stairs dominating the other. No windows into the offices, either, just clear labeling on the outer door. There’s no obvious sounds coming from within, either. Seems like the bulk of their work is during some common afternoon break, likely the peak heat of the day, when the central air conditioning must feel like a luxury sent by the divine.
Even still, it’s possible some hard worker is preparing an uplifting spiritual message for the next day, sitting in their office.
Anna starts to check offices and closets, one by one, each time opening the door slowly, tensed, ready to quickly silence and KO anyone who spots her, searching through quickly, rummaging for anything important-looking, moving onto the next. Her time in Retrieval & Recovery has taught her what important things tend to look like, and how people usually try to hide them.
Morninglight paraphanalia, instructors guides, and more than a few manuals on post-post-modern farming techniques generously donated by Zagan and Plethron of Orochi industries abound, but all these are commercially available.
What isn’t so easily obtained, though, is something a lesser eye would have missed. A set of keys, thumb drive on it, and more relevantly, a tiny blue triangle insignia on the thumb drive. It seems to belong to a facilitador de extensión comunitaria named Phillipe Benson, an odd name for the heart of Spain.
Of more particular relevance to the mission, however, is in the next room over, a small sealed jewelry box. The lock isn’t particularly difficult to force, and inside is something that any occult egyptologist would shudder at: a tiny sigil, crafted from gold, in the shape of the symbol of Aten. Direct line from Administrador Cervantes to Atenist groups. Troublesome.
Sarah crackles in again. “Yo, dude just went upstairs, aryan looking fucker, you might wanna boogie. Suit says important. I’m almost done with the bottom floor, nothing but a bunch of crap.”
Anna snags the thumb drive and the jewelry box. She crackles back in, “Understood. Found some things. Atenist connection.” Tone still weirdly terse. She slips out of the room, closes the door behind her, and with the same quick, quiet movement, surveying her sides and attempting to stay out of sight, makes her way to where she came in so she can make her exit.
Just as she slips into her entry classroom, she hears muffled cursing under a man’s breath, in English, French, then slipping casually into Russian, invective of frustration with no particulars. He pushes into the office area, and disappears from sight and sound.
It’s simple enough for Anna to make her escape, the window shutting with considerably less complaint than it opened with. “Checking out, then,” Sarah comes in over the radio, more clearly. “We’ll meet up out of town, arright? I’m just glad I didn’t have to beat the shit out of people and act like it was armed robbery this time.”
“Gotcha. Yeah. Glad we didn’t either. Much smoother than m’ used to.” She climbs out through the window, grabs the zipline gun she’s left dangling there, and uses it to aid in her descent. Once she lands in the side street she tucks away her gear and the box back into her backpack that she’s left hidden there, slings it back over her shoulders, and takes off, quietly taking a few breaths and counting back down again. When she crackles back in she sounds much more like, well, Anna, “Jus’ tell me where - an’, again, surprised an’ glad I didn’t have t’ fuck anyone up.”
“We’ll meet back up at that tree, then. I’m a little disappointed on some level, but, not everything can be blood and steel, right?” She’s leisurely strolling down the main street, not paying much obvious attention to those around her when she comes into view, walking back to her backpack under the tree with a bottle of water in her fist.
Technically, Anna’s support, and this is Sarah’s mission. What’s she going to hand over, though? There’s a sense that Sarah would just turn the flash drive right over to her handler, without bothering to take a peek.
“Yeah - well, I’m sure we’ll both get t’ do what we’re best at soon…” Anna remarks back to Sarah. She meets her under the tree, takes the flash drive out of her pocket and hands it over to Sarah, though not before asking, “Wonder what th’ fuck our logo’s doin’ on it... “ She seems a little unsure about the drive and hesitates briefly before handing it over, an unspoken question written across her face, though… her desire to just get her job done is far, far stronger than her curiosity. She unzips her pack next and shows her the jewelry box. “Told y’. Atenists. They were tied t’ some bad shit.”
Sarah stares at it for a hot second, then shrugs. “Ours is not to wonder why, ours is but to do and die. Not you, though.” Sarah grins wide, shoulders on her pack, and smiles. “Extraction’s a bit north of here. Car, to copter. Thanks for coming again, Anna. I know not doing shit eats you alive, I just wish I could give you cooler shit to do.”
“I’m plannin’ on just doin’ for a while, Sarah.” She flashes a grin back, and nods, “‘Preciate it. I’m jus’ it’s over with, t’ be honest. If y’ that worried though… Could always volunteer us for raidin’ whoever shipped em’ that box. Don’t ‘xactly need to go quiet dealin’ with straight-up Atenists.” She’d follow Sarah to the extraction zone, remarking lastly, “Just lemme know when y’ need me again, OK?”
Local time 4:32 PM.
Sarah leans back, smiling, the tree offering scant shade. She was dressed light; while 78 degrees isn’t exactly hot, it’s clear she’s more used to cooler climates. “You see that new building? Only one in town that looks like money went into it in the past decade?”
It’s pretty obvious. 2 stories, concrete and glass a stark contrast to the stucco walls and corrugated tin Modus Operandi that the rest of the town settled into sometime in the past eternity. The distinct impression of looking at a bad photoshop job comes to mind.
“Place is a farming village. No money for something like that, right? It was Morninglight, at first. Now, who knows.” She finally stands, pulling her loose ponytail a bit tighter. “You up to find out?”
Anna’s dressed light too. Khaki-colored, vaguely military (though vague enough that it could be taken as a fashion statement) pants, white tank top, and a hiker’s backpack with the rest of the gear she’s brought along contained within. Needless to say, it looks a bit on the heavy side. She nods, “Yeah, let’s. You can take th’ entrance, work from there, I can start from th’ roof and work my way down.”
“Arright. They probably don’t expect us, but intel shows they’re armed, so don’t get killed.” Sarah grins, offering a thumbs up. “Folks just left to go work the fields a bit more before sundown, so we’re moving quick. Look for anything that screams ‘filth cult’; from my understanding, up high is a little more interested in finding something to rub in the Templar’s faces than doing their job for them, so the more egregious, the better.”
She stands, a knife, a pistol, and the clothes on her back, and nods at Anna. “Lemme know right before you enter. I’ll make some noise.” With that, she jogs down the gentle hill to the edges of town, settling into a casual saunter as she walks openly down the main streets toward the imposing structure.
“Understood. I’ll let y’ know.” She follows Sarah but branches off from her as they get into town, taking side-streets and alleys to a spot behind the building, crouching down out of sight as she preps her own gear, snapping her mostly flashbang-and-smoke laden harness in place over her tank top, checking her pistol, and attaching her trusted blackened steel machete to her harness. She takes a deep breath, closes her eyes, counts down from ten. Work face time.
She hoists a pistol-like device out of the pack and fires it up at the edge of the roof, an ultra-high-tension bundle of monofilament wires attached to a spike embedding itself in the concrete with little more than a “whoosh - chnk”, and begins to quickly, quietly, carefully scale the side of the building. If she spotted an entrance on the roof, she’ll make her way up there, otherwise she’ll take position by a window, hanging just out of sight, occasionally glancing in to get a read on what’s inside and time herself accordingly.
No roof entrance, but as Sarah suggested, the building is mostly empty for the time being. One tired-looking fellow shuffling papers in what could be charitably called a classroom (though the Morninglight symbology implies a more religious bent than one might expect) on the second floor, but the other three rooms seem clear.
No obvious office windows, either, on the fairly small structure. It seems the exterior bits of the second floor are entirely outreach, no administration. If there’s anything, it’d be deeper in.
Sarah crackles in. “Yo, inside, in the bathroom. You want me to make some noise, or chill for a while?”
Anna responds back. Voice flat. Statements terse. It’s her but it’s not her, “Clear. Chill. I’ll scout ahead.” She’d check to see if there’s a way to get in from her position first, then, if she doesn’t spot anything, takes the ultra-sharp glass cutter from her belt, and cuts a circle into the window, large enough to fit through, climbs in, landing in a crouch, moving quickly to find a hiding spot, then starting to explore the second floor. Ideally she’ll want to skip past the outreach rooms - not what they’re looking for.
The windows are willing to creak open, but only under duress and with much very loud complaint. Inside, it’s rather clean for a dusty farming community, a vacuum being audibly run on the first floor evidently a common measure.
The interior of the structure is beige walls and blue floors, a network of offices on one side, stairs dominating the other. No windows into the offices, either, just clear labeling on the outer door. There’s no obvious sounds coming from within, either. Seems like the bulk of their work is during some common afternoon break, likely the peak heat of the day, when the central air conditioning must feel like a luxury sent by the divine.
Even still, it’s possible some hard worker is preparing an uplifting spiritual message for the next day, sitting in their office.
Anna starts to check offices and closets, one by one, each time opening the door slowly, tensed, ready to quickly silence and KO anyone who spots her, searching through quickly, rummaging for anything important-looking, moving onto the next. Her time in Retrieval & Recovery has taught her what important things tend to look like, and how people usually try to hide them.
Morninglight paraphanalia, instructors guides, and more than a few manuals on post-post-modern farming techniques generously donated by Zagan and Plethron of Orochi industries abound, but all these are commercially available.
What isn’t so easily obtained, though, is something a lesser eye would have missed. A set of keys, thumb drive on it, and more relevantly, a tiny blue triangle insignia on the thumb drive. It seems to belong to a facilitador de extensión comunitaria named Phillipe Benson, an odd name for the heart of Spain.
Of more particular relevance to the mission, however, is in the next room over, a small sealed jewelry box. The lock isn’t particularly difficult to force, and inside is something that any occult egyptologist would shudder at: a tiny sigil, crafted from gold, in the shape of the symbol of Aten. Direct line from Administrador Cervantes to Atenist groups. Troublesome.
Sarah crackles in again. “Yo, dude just went upstairs, aryan looking fucker, you might wanna boogie. Suit says important. I’m almost done with the bottom floor, nothing but a bunch of crap.”
Anna snags the thumb drive and the jewelry box. She crackles back in, “Understood. Found some things. Atenist connection.” Tone still weirdly terse. She slips out of the room, closes the door behind her, and with the same quick, quiet movement, surveying her sides and attempting to stay out of sight, makes her way to where she came in so she can make her exit.
Just as she slips into her entry classroom, she hears muffled cursing under a man’s breath, in English, French, then slipping casually into Russian, invective of frustration with no particulars. He pushes into the office area, and disappears from sight and sound.
It’s simple enough for Anna to make her escape, the window shutting with considerably less complaint than it opened with. “Checking out, then,” Sarah comes in over the radio, more clearly. “We’ll meet up out of town, arright? I’m just glad I didn’t have to beat the shit out of people and act like it was armed robbery this time.”
“Gotcha. Yeah. Glad we didn’t either. Much smoother than m’ used to.” She climbs out through the window, grabs the zipline gun she’s left dangling there, and uses it to aid in her descent. Once she lands in the side street she tucks away her gear and the box back into her backpack that she’s left hidden there, slings it back over her shoulders, and takes off, quietly taking a few breaths and counting back down again. When she crackles back in she sounds much more like, well, Anna, “Jus’ tell me where - an’, again, surprised an’ glad I didn’t have t’ fuck anyone up.”
“We’ll meet back up at that tree, then. I’m a little disappointed on some level, but, not everything can be blood and steel, right?” She’s leisurely strolling down the main street, not paying much obvious attention to those around her when she comes into view, walking back to her backpack under the tree with a bottle of water in her fist.
Technically, Anna’s support, and this is Sarah’s mission. What’s she going to hand over, though? There’s a sense that Sarah would just turn the flash drive right over to her handler, without bothering to take a peek.
“Yeah - well, I’m sure we’ll both get t’ do what we’re best at soon…” Anna remarks back to Sarah. She meets her under the tree, takes the flash drive out of her pocket and hands it over to Sarah, though not before asking, “Wonder what th’ fuck our logo’s doin’ on it... “ She seems a little unsure about the drive and hesitates briefly before handing it over, an unspoken question written across her face, though… her desire to just get her job done is far, far stronger than her curiosity. She unzips her pack next and shows her the jewelry box. “Told y’. Atenists. They were tied t’ some bad shit.”
Sarah stares at it for a hot second, then shrugs. “Ours is not to wonder why, ours is but to do and die. Not you, though.” Sarah grins wide, shoulders on her pack, and smiles. “Extraction’s a bit north of here. Car, to copter. Thanks for coming again, Anna. I know not doing shit eats you alive, I just wish I could give you cooler shit to do.”
“I’m plannin’ on just doin’ for a while, Sarah.” She flashes a grin back, and nods, “‘Preciate it. I’m jus’ it’s over with, t’ be honest. If y’ that worried though… Could always volunteer us for raidin’ whoever shipped em’ that box. Don’t ‘xactly need to go quiet dealin’ with straight-up Atenists.” She’d follow Sarah to the extraction zone, remarking lastly, “Just lemme know when y’ need me again, OK?”