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Post by Alexander Chronos VI on May 5, 2015 8:51:25 GMT
A mid-sized condominium recently converted from three studio apartments in a brick and mortar tenement building on the lower-east side, ironically called Olympus Estates. The lease and post office box downstairs are registered under the name William Wintergreen, but he's been dead for two years. Yet, checks come in with his name on them at the first of each month like clockwork.
Despite looking like another rundown apartment form the outside, a number of improvements have been made within. Only two of the former apartments are in use, the wall having been torn down between them to make a spacious if spartan living quarters. All the windows have been replaced with bullet-proof panes and various security measures placed along the entrances. The third apartment is used as a supply room for the tools of his trade, the doorknob containing a biometric lock and door itself reinforced with cold-rolled vault-grade steel. The surrounding walls have been replaced with steel-reinforced concrete.
The decor is quite spartan, bare as if its occupant expected to have to vacate at any moment.
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Post by The Astronomer on May 5, 2015 9:02:23 GMT
One day a runner drops off a package. This particular client seemed to have an affinity for starving orpans he could easily find through Starcrown to deliver their requests. The letters were always embossed with a distinct Alpha symbol, and the money had never been anything but prompt and clean.
He was not the most frequent client Ryker had, but certainly one of the most professional. 'Mr. Alpha' almost alwats provided detailed floorplans in advance, and occasionally even a timetable of the target's predicted movement. He also always paid beforehand, with the explicit understand that failure would mean a loss of future contract.
The only twist was the absolute anonymity of the relationship. Streetrats were a quarter a dozen in Starcrown, and quite willing to deliver any item for a quick 20 from any random stranger.
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Post by Alexander Chronos VI on May 5, 2015 9:33:40 GMT
Fenris accepted the package, hand-rolled cigarillo glowing red in his mouth, as he used unnaturally nimble toes to deactivate the M18 anti-personnel mine facing the door. He tipped the runner a few bucks and closed the door, rearming the security measures as he sat down in a wooden chair by a small table where he took his meals. There was a combat knife buried in the cheap pine, which he wrenched out and used as a letter opener to crack the seal and read the assignment at hand.
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Post by Alexander Chronos VI on May 5, 2015 11:07:06 GMT
///
When the dossier was read, its details studied, and a rough plan cobbled together; Fenris opened a drawer that was full of burner phones. He shot a text to his arms dealer, Andrew Schroeder, naming a time and place for a meeting near Grassrow North. Schroeder would know it was for business. Ryker did not make personal visits.
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Post by Alexander Chronos VI on May 7, 2015 20:54:46 GMT
///
Safely returning from his successful job, Ryker cleaned and oiled all his gear before depositing it to its proper place in his storage room. When that was done, he cracked open a beer to celebrate the easiest 600k he had ever made, checking his bank accounts with noted amusement. He laundered all his money through various shell corporations into offshore accounts in countries that did not extradite. He turned on the television, checking for news of his escapades. William Wintergreen had a cable subscription.
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Post by The Astronomer on May 9, 2015 8:38:52 GMT
The House of White Lace shooting was indeed top billing in the news, along with a peculiar apartment fire in the Euphoria Point Apartment Complex. The police had not named a suspect in either case, but witnesses had reported a buff white male who may have been the masked suspect in the first case, and confirmed at least three casualties. Their identities have yet to be released.
In other news, Trustwell Corporation opened up a scholarship fund for aspiring physicists in the name of the late Dr. Yorick Vaughn, Britain's government had publicly admitted training Starborn children as possible weapons, and the University of Ambrosia was opening a memorial in honor of America's sacrifices during the Reign of the Supermen. Dr. Hans Willingham would serve as keynote speaker in place of Dr. Vaughn, who had originally accepted the honor before his passing.
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Post by Alexander Chronos VI on May 10, 2015 0:01:23 GMT
Fenris hand-rolled a celebratory cigarette, taking a deep drag from it as he watched the news. With a regenerative healing factor, any damage done to his lungs was laughable.
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Post by The Astronomer on May 12, 2015 7:13:46 GMT
****
Later in the night, Fenris recieved an email in one of his secure accounts. Even then. the email appeared to be a just a harmless advertisement for a pleasure cruise to Shanghai. Every one of Ryker's clients, except the mysterious Alpha, had been assigned an exotic location. Harlan Slade himself had been assigned Maui, with the Russian players being assigned Barcelona, the Japanese being assigned Bora Bora, some corrupt politician being Zurich, and so forth. If anyone ever managed to hack Ryker's account, they would only find an overabundance of travel agency advertisements.
Shanghai was Agnetha Megalos, the queen of Megalos Shipping. It was not a large outfit in terms of muscle or prestige, but their control of the docks at least made them wealthy enough to afford Deathstar's services on occasion. The bland email signified that somewhere, Agnetha needed someone dead, and was waiting to be contacted for the details.
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Post by Alexander Chronos VI on May 12, 2015 18:16:58 GMT
Fenris pulled a new burner phone out of the drawer and dialed Agnetha Megalos, or at least her her representative in the matter at the number provided. He considered that she must be in dire straits to reach out to him with her meager means compared to many of his other clients. Then again, without desperation, he would have no work in the first place.
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Post by The Astronomer on May 13, 2015 19:36:47 GMT
An indistinct, professional voice from 'human resources' answered. It only took a quick peek at the file to give the proper response before being put on hold. Eventually, a rough but decidedly feminine voice answered. "Is this line secure?"
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Post by Alexander Chronos VI on May 13, 2015 19:41:59 GMT
"Would I be on it if it wasn't?" he asked, deadpan, lazily tossing and catching a combat knife.
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Post by The Astronomer on May 13, 2015 19:46:23 GMT
"Harlan Slade died last night. His muscle's going their own direction. Right now, they're sitting on a pile of product Slade never paid me for. I need it secured. Are you available?"
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Post by Alexander Chronos VI on May 13, 2015 19:51:44 GMT
"That depends on what the product is worth to you." he replied simply, with a thin smile. It was always nice when one job necessitated another.
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Post by The Astronomer on May 13, 2015 19:59:28 GMT
"Fifty thousand for the product, with twenty five more if you can avoid alerting authorities. No witnesses. I already own the warehouse, so I'm already expecting attention after this."
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Post by Alexander Chronos VI on May 13, 2015 20:30:29 GMT
"You know my rates. I don't get out of bed for less than a hundred thousand." he countered. "What's the product?"
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