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High Value Targets - Violette - 08-14-2009
First draft, feel free to add feedback:)
http://discoverygc.com/forums/index.php?showtopic=44648
High Value Targets
Miss Winters stood over her last victim, the blood still fresh on her blade. That was that, she had dispatched of the last High Value target on her small list. The enemies of the Coalition were her enemies.
Target one
After a month of planning her first target had popped up, a perfect time for her to strike, he was doing a public speech to raise awareness about the threats to Bretonia. And Stacy had to be there to make sure he met her blade.
The man was Duke Duchovy of Wellington, a capitalist who was born with an entire drawer of silver spoons in his mouth. He was one of the most widely known capitalists in Bretonia
He was going to share a lot of dangerous information about the SCRA with the public, slander; Stacy had to be there to put an end to his lies.
There she laid, on the window ledge of an expensive motel, with a .50 Calibre, tachyon-enhanced, precision rifle she had stolen from a BAF armoury earlier in the month.
Her sights were set on the podium, in which the Duke was to make his speech to the people. She tweaked the mount just a little bit and set her eyes on the targeted area again.
The podium was just over a mile away, and from here she had a clear view of the whole event.
Stacy straightened up and stretched. Almost time, she thought as she looked up at golden clock on the wall.
Stacy stood up and pulled a small red packet out of her bag, and layed it out on the bed next to the body. She then moved over to the hotel door, clicked the lock and rattled the door handle.
It would hold.
The event was starting to build up now, important representatives from all over Sirius had come to listen to the wise words of the Duke. Stacy had managed to seduce one of the ‘Sirius Star’ Camera men before drugging him and stealing his pass-key. She had a front row pass-key to the main stage. She waited patiently, uncomfortable in her formal attire; she had to look the part, else her plan wouldn’t work.
The Duke had arrived, pulling up in a slick Mercedes-SK13K-Z\33 Hover Limosine, Stacy turned up her nose and glanced down at her watch. A month of full complicated planning and she was finally ready.
He approached the podium and cleared his throat.
Stacy waited till he had cleared his introduction before her move. She reached into her bag and pulled out two small objects, a pad with various buttons and a butterfly knife.
She hovered her thumb over the big red button and looked up to the duke from her seat, he raised his arms to address the crowd, she pushed her thumb down into the red button, hearing a satisfying *click* and a loud crackle of lightning was heard.
The precision rifle had fired, from the hotel room, high up in the distance. The shot had glided through the air in a matter of seconds and collided with the gracious fountain behind the Duke.
The fountain exploded in a big red light and the world went silent and still.
Stacy closed her eyes as she pulled out the button-pad again and pressed the second, orange button. The red packet in the room she left detonated causing the side of the building to blow out, raining debris down on the upper-class shopping district.
Stacy opened her eyes and the event had descended into chaos, the cameras were getting throw over as hundreds of Civilians and VIPs panicked to escape the attack, the Duke was snatched by the BAF henchmen he had hired to protect him.
They were whisking him back to the Limo to escape the rabble.
Stacy jumped from her seat and pounced up onto the stage narrowly avoiding a panicking special service agent. The BAF tried to keep the area under control, pushing the crowd back but ultimately failing.
Stacy had slipped past the services and onto the stage, as news reporters rushed by. She spotted a timid lady in a blue dress and made her way over; the lady was talking in a hurried tone to special service agent.
Stacy flicked out the blade of her butterfly knife elegantly and slipped it with little force into the agent’s neck. The lady in the blue dress stood still in shock her face turned white, Stacy threw one mighty punch towards her throat, winding her and yanked her ID from around her neck. The lady gasped for air and grabbed her throat, Stacy span round and delivered a roundhouse kick to the side of her head allowing her limp body to fall off the stage into the crowd, most likely to be trampled to death.
She slipped the knife into the strap of her bra and made her way to the Limo, all closed up and ready to go.
A service agent stopped her, but she flashed the woman’s ID,
‘Agent Millie Davies – Special Branch of BIS’
The agent let her pass; she opened the Limo door and slipped in.
The Duke was astonished to see her,
“Where’s Millie?” He asked, in his posh pompous voice,
“She’s crowd surfing at the moment, but busy, she said we should go anyway, meet up at HQ” Stacy replied hiding her blood covered hand from him,
“Right on” He said, knocking on the darkened window behind him, indicating to the driver to go.
“What the hell is-” He started, as Stacy brushed her arm across him horizontally spraying herself with blood and the inside of the car,
She watched with glee as the Duke clutched at his throat wound, bleeding far too heavily to survive,
“Sorry, but there is not room for capitalist pigs like you, spreading lies, in the new regime, in the New Sirius, nothing too personal, just you have been slandering my allies for far too long”
Stacy glanced out of the window as they approached a small via-duct; she flicked her knife away. Then removed the Duke’s Purple Heart and chucked a vintage Cuban cigar, at least worth several hundred million, on his lap, as a sign.
She then tightened her boots and dived out of the Limo door and onto the busy road, after dodging one car she leapt into the driver seat of a parked convertible, after a quick wiring job, she slipped away down an A-road.