The Werewolf set down on the landing pad of Buffalo and a man disembarked. On the outside his calm demeanor said he belonged; on the inside, he was a rolling sea of tumult and anxiety. Here he was, in the very heart of the Rogues criminal activities. He was a cop, though no one knew it. And if anyone found out, he wouldnt live an hour.
Jack Sawyer walked steadily not too fast, not too slow to the bar to ask for directions. There he found an irate barman and a rowdy crowd. Violence was not the answer in this case, though: he was one among many, a ghost whose greatest advantage lies in secrecy and stealth. He told the bartender:
I need to see Sylpheed. Where can I find him.
No question was evident in his voice; it was a command more than anything. The only response was a head motion to a door off to the side. Sawyer walked over to it, offered up a short prayer to any gods that may listen, and remembered the orders the Chief had given him.
Heres the message: you tell him what I tell you, and no one but him, got it? I dont want you to die on me just yet, but know that one wrong move and youre finished in there.
Not the Chief at his most assuring, but the message hadnt really needed telling. Sawyer already knew he was walking into a potential suicide mission: things would either go well, or not go at all. He walked through the door and two giants grabbed him and threw him against a nearby wall. Oh s
<span style="color:#FF6666">Division 9... "Just as every cop is a criminal..."</span>
Sawyer woke up with pain all over his body. Bruises mostly. He stretched each muscle as far as he could to check for broken bones, but quickly was made aware of restraints placed on him. Nothing felt broken, but he couldnt be sure. Crusty eyes cracked open, and he saw first that he was sitting taped to a chair. The room he was in was dark: it could be a closet for all he knew.
Ey, the buggers awake, a deep voice drawled. The shadows rippled and a hulking man moved closer. One of the giants that had jumped him.
His head lolled down; Sawyers neck didnt feel strong enough to support it, and there was no reason to anyways. It seemed that things were about to go real bad. What, he rasped and then swallowed. What do you want? Better.
No one gets to Sylpheed as he doesnt know, the big guy continued. Not without getting through us first, eh?
With that, he slammed Sawyer across the face and lifted him up off the ground (with the chair) by the front of his shirt. And boy, youll have fun getting through us.
The beating continued for an immeasurable time. Every time he blacked out, they stopped and waited for him to come to. He felt beaten within an inch of his life, and then it stopped
<span style="color:#FF6666">Division 9... "Just as every cop is a criminal..."</span>
Sawyer saw why the beating had stopped, another giant had stepped into the room, this one wearing a white suit and smoking a cigar. Easily standing over six feet tall, Sawyer noted this one had muscles in places Sawyer doubted he had places.
"Untie him." The suited giant demanded.
"Yes Boss" growled the underlings in return.
Sawyer felt his restraints loosen, and he shrugged his shoulders to get some circulation flowing into his arms again.
"name's Sylpheed, kid." Said the suited fellow. "You wanted to speak to me." Sylpheed threw a punch that connected with Sawyer's ribcage, Sawyer heard the bones crack and felt a sharp pain in his lung.
"That should have punctured a lung. Causing internal bleeding, may kill you if you ain't treated quick. So I suggest you say what you came to say and make it quick, cop."
Sylpheed took the chair and sat on it back to front.
Saint Del is considered a holy healer of diseases of children, but also as a protector of cattle.
I'm dead... was all he could think as he coughed up some blood. These guys are gonna kill me. But he wouldn't have it go down that he just curled up and died. Sawyer turned his head and spat as hard as he could, noting that most of it was blood.
"I got a message from you from the Chief of Police. He wants to," cough "play ball. There's undercover cops around," cough "all around... Liberty. Trying to gather intel. But," cough "the Chief, old b*stard that he is, sent me here to," cough "see if you and your Rogues were willing to," cough "thin... the competition some. He wants you to help us, so we'll leave you," cough "alone and help you. Even the normal," cough "flatfoots would ignore you."
There was a pause. A pause that felt too long. Sawyer was gasping for air, he could swear he felt blood pooling inside of him.
"Kill him." The words froze Sawyer's blood, and he closed his eyes, waiting for it. He could feel the barrel of a gun put up to his head, it's cold metal making his spine shiver in terror. Then there was peace.
"Wait."
Sawyer released a shivering gulp of air he had been holding. The gun was pulled back. When he opened his eyes, it was to be greeted by Sylpheed's hand at his throat.
"Perhaps you should go back to that pig Myers and tell him that Freeport 2 is an excellent vacation spot. Especially this time of year, say, in a couple of days. He's due some vacation time."
Sylpheed threw a rag in Sawyer's face. "Clean yourself up. And you might want to visit the infirmary."
The goons untied Sawyer and they left him there. After thirty seconds, he got to his feet, shakily, and hurried to the infirmary.
<span style="color:#FF6666">Division 9... "Just as every cop is a criminal..."</span>
"Sir, you have someone demanding to meet with you in the lobby. He won't go away. He says his name is Jack Sawyer."
Matt Myer's secretary obviously had no idea who it was. But when the Chief heard the name, his head snapped up from the papers he had been reading and he demanded that Sawyer be brought in at once.
"Don't let anyone know who he is."
A 'yessir' and the secretary was gone. He returned a minute later with a limping Jack Sawyer in tow. Myers ordered the secretary to leave, and gestured to the seat across from his desk. Sawyer gratefully took it.
"Well? What happened?"
"What does it look like? I got the s*** beat outta me," Sawyer snapped back, obviously bitter. He had a few stitches and obvious bruising. "But, I talked with Sylpheed. He seemed to suggest a meeting on Freeport 2 in a couple of days."
The Chief thanked Sawyer, then told him to get himself to a real hospital instead of some 'Rogue quack'. Once Sawyer had left, he called in Deputy Chiefs Hull O'Brian and Karl Agathon. Ten minutes later, all three men were discussing potential ramifications of the meeting, including a second assassination attempt. It was still unknown who perpetrated it the first time, and the only reason Sylpheed wasn't a prime suspect in orchestrating it was that it fit others' MO better. After some debate, Myers decided to go. Alone. O'Brian tried to dissuade him while Agathon sat back, knowing that once the Chief made up his mind, there was little that could change it.
<span style="color:#FF6666">Division 9... "Just as every cop is a criminal..."</span>
"Well neither do I, which is why I want Rogues throughout the damn station, I doubt the LPI would take a chance on an assassination on a Zoner freeport, but them damn BHG would. Be easy for them to crack a crappy deal with someone with less backbone, Danny. I ain't going down like some sack of crap." Sylpheed took a pull on the cigar.
"I don't know what the frakker wants exactly, but it's got something to do with the large amount of Cardamine going missing recently, I'd bet your mother on it.
"You've got two days to sort out security down there. Get it done."
Sylpheed turned and walked out the room. He had other places to be.
Saint Del is considered a holy healer of diseases of children, but also as a protector of cattle.
Karl Agathon stalked back to his office after the meeting with the Chief. In some ways, Myers was right. They couldn't afford to make an obvious LPI presence on the station, because questions would be asked. They couldn't afford to hire Hunters to provide security for the Chief, because questions would be asked. Or even worse, rumors would spread. Who was the Chief of Police meeting in the middle of a war zone? Maybe he was a Rheinland sympathizer. No, security couldn't be afforded in that direction.
But one thing the Chief was wrong in was trusting Sylpheed. Agathon knew this, but didn't have the sway to get the point home. "Someone's gotta put the gun down first," was what the Chief had said, but that wasn't necessarily true.
Once he got back to his office, he sent out a Priority message with as much encryption as could be piled on to Daniel Hunter, ordering him back immediately...
[color=#FF9966]
* * * * * * *
A day later, Daniel met Agathon on Planet Pittsburgh, away from any prying eyes.
"I need you to get your team into place on Freeport 2. The Chief will be meeting Sylpheed there shortly."
A quizzical look passed his face, but Daniel asked no questions. He knew his job. Behind Daniel, Agathon would have asked Sawyer -- but he was still banged up, plus both Sylpheed and the Chief know what he looks like. Agathon was trying to give him protection that he wouldn't know was there.
"Yes sir. We'll be there as soon as possible."
With that, the very short meeting was ended... now all that was left to do was wait.
<span style="color:#FF6666">Division 9... "Just as every cop is a criminal..."</span>
An Armored Transport had just set down on Freeport 2's pad, and a large Matt Myers in plain clothes stepped off of it. No one else was with him. The Zoner guards ran a quick sweep for weapons, customary to all new-comers to the station. Any and all firearms were illegal, and to be left on your ship. The Chief was not armed. He passed the guards quickly, and left Daniel Hunter striding fast to keep up. How can a guy so big move so fast?
Hunter's gaze circled the room, and not for the first time he saw some other folk. And they saw him. He could taste the trouble with those guys, and they could likely tell he wasn't out for a friendly stroll either. A cursory glance said they weren't armed, as none of Hunter's team was 'armed'. Jennifer Carter had the extraction ship hot and ready to go, while John Nelson was waiting in the bar. He had the team's only offensive ordinance, a set of balanced ceramic throwing-knives stashed about his clothes. They didn't show up on weapon scans and worked as well as most things. Not the best for prolonged knife fights, but they did the trick.
Myers arrived at the bar and picked the table farthest from the door, way back in the corner. He turned the chair around, set his back to the wall, and sat with the back protecting his gut. Hunter sat down five tables away, and began scanning the room. It was hard to miss John, as he was a big guy. It was also hard for a man of Hunter's training to miss everyone else in the room. Most were likely just bystanders, but he found himself mentally sizing men up. He had no idea what Sylpheed was gonna pull, and it was best to be prepared. The Chief was a big target...
<span style="color:#FF6666">Division 9... "Just as every cop is a criminal..."</span>
None of the Rogues carried a gun, but each was dangerous. All Rogues were, to say nothing of the bits of sharp metal or broken bottles that seemed to appear when it hit the proverbial fan. Despite their aura of danger, the guards did their best to blend into the variety of visitors on Freeport 2. Visitors that had no idea how much trouble was now on it's way to the bar. The Rogues watched the Chief take a seat, and they watched the two plainclothes officers follow just behind.
Sylpheed set his ship down and cut the engines. With his knives in their usual places, he made his way to the meeting. "Danny better have this down, or I'll have his head," he grumbled. The large man's footsteps seemed to rattle the civilians he passed, though he recognized one as a Rogue. Headed to check on our dear Chief's ship, no doubt. The weapons scanners detected nothing and he was sent on his way to the meeting.
Opening the door revealed his three boys and the Chief. Sylpheed was surprised at the lack of Police guards, until he looked a little closer and recognized the obvious threat by the corner, the bar, and a few other possibilities. Without missing a beat, he strolled to the bar, took the drink in front of John Nelson, and proceeded to the Police Chief. Maybe set them off balance, he thought to himself with a grin that looked more of a snarl. Sylpheed brought the glass down onto the table with enough force to slosh the contents onto the table. He merely bared his teeth and took another pull of his cigar while he made eye contact with the Chief of Liberty Police. How much profit has this one ruined for me? he wondered to himself, Friends close, enemies closer. The big Rogue tasted the drink and spit the alcohol to the floor. "Your boy's got bad taste."
Myers looked up, glanced over at Nelson (who was fuming), and looked back to Sylpheed. Smiled and shook his head. And finally made a mental note to talk to Agathon about the 'help.'
"Maybe you should blame the Zoner bartender, doubt they have a wide selection here. Have a seat."
Some part of Myers, deep inside, was scared; not simply of death or anything bad happening, but of how horribly wrong this whole thing could go. He was trusting a crime boss in the Liberty Rogues not to blow Division 9 open.
"So, it wasn't me that called for this meeting, but here I am. Might be you want to say your bit." Sylpheed took a long drag from his cigar and blew it into the Chief's face and waited.
"You'd think there'd be a little respect for the man who's coming to you with a serious... business proposition." Myers blew the smoke to the side and took a sip from his coffee. "Here's how it works out; we have a group of LPI deep-cover scattered throughout Liberty. And we'd like an angle. It's hard for us to get support. I figured we could maybe... help each other out. You see, I understand how the criminal underbelly works. I really do. You don't head up the Rogues anymore than that bartender heads up this station. Perhaps, you help our guys out... and your competition starts losing profits? Cardamine shipments go missing? Pirates raiding on your turf end up shut down, while your ships are ignored?"
Another sip of coffee, and Myers gave Sylpheed a chance to answer. First, though, he tacked on another thought: "Imagine what operations would be like if the LPI simply stopped bothering with them."
"I won't waste both of our time and say that it wouldn't help" Sylpheed sneered. "So you think that you can help cut away some of the problems then? Only the Junkers can compete with us in transporting Cardamine, you going to stop them?" He mocked, "So far, all I've heard is what you can do for me, but I just know that the catch is coming."
"The 'catch' is simple," he replied. "We want times. Places. Names. I don't expect anything on your people, but say... I understand you're not cozy with most Outcasts muscling in on Liberty at the moment, and me personally, I'd rather they all rot in jail. In short, we want information. And the ability to use your bases to rearm and repair ships. You help point us to whatever crime you don't care about, and it disappears. You get more power, we get more dirtbags behind bars, we all make more money, and everyone wins."
"Outcasts under control?" The big Rogue snorted, "If you think that you can manage, I'll toss you their location all day long. Bases, though. You don't take a leak in your own backyard, and I'm not sure how I feel about boys in blue running in mine," He grinned. "Assure me. How do I know that there won't be a problem? It would be an inconvenience to be seen with my arm around an enemy. I hate inconveniences," Sylpheed growled.
To be continued...
[color=white]RP'd out on Skype
<span style="color:#FF6666">Division 9... "Just as every cop is a criminal..."</span>
![[Image: Del1.png]](http://i14.photobucket.com/albums/a344/Spiderjerusalem1979/Del1.png)
