Wintermute
02-14-2010, 03:58 AM
Manhunt : The Agency (http://role-player.net/forum/showthread.php?t=2721)
An introduction, a rainy night in New York City.
It was a rainy night in New York city, the smell of wet asphalt and exhaust fumes hung over a narrow side street that was all desolate, a lonely sort of still. The big city rush a few streets over could have been a word away, someone jumping on their brakes, bald tyre screetch and and the wail of a car horn blaring over the rush of tyres on wet roads.
There was a black Mercedes Benz parked in front of a hole in the wall sort of restraunt, low slung and sinister, like a black panther poised for the attack. The restraunt wasn't much more than a window smeared with something written in Turkish in a garish brown that could have been purple twenty years ago.
Inside was tense, so thick it was suffocating, men in dark suits sat around a booth near the door to a filthy kitchen that smelled like cooked meat and cigarette ash. They spoke in muted tones, there were no customers to speak of, picking at a mostly finished dinner and sipping on glasses of red wine.
"So what do we do?" Asked a man in a red tie, fishing a pack of Parliaments out of a breast pocket, lit one with a disposable lighter and dragged on it nervously.
He was Robert, head of the gang's drug smuggling operations down south.
All attention was on another man, much larger than the rest, salt and pepper hair clippered short and he had big and gold cufflinks that glittered in the low light. He had an air of authority to him, round face pockmarked and lined with age, a mean looking scar cut awkwardy from the corner of his mouth to a cheek bone that was a kindly and middle aged sort of soft.
His name was Alfred, a big German who ran his gang with an iron fist.
"We hire an outsider." He said thoughtfully, almost like he was chewing on his words before he spoke them. "Someone who can get the job done."
And then there was a long silence, another man, this one wearing a blue tie lit a little black cigar and wiped his forehead with a monogramed hankerchef.
"I know just the person."
All eyes on the man with the blue tie and the big man made an inquisitive sort of noise, dark eyes fixated on his subordinate, a man called Carmine. He was the head of the gang's gunmen, a general in times of war, head of a vast spy ring in times of peace.
"Who?" Robert asked, taking another pull on his cigarette and rolling the ash into a metal ashtray between his mostly empty plate and his dwindling glass of red.
"An outsider, a real crazed gunman, works for the private sector but I've heard that he's gone freelancer."
[+]
The Agency is a secretive organization that specializes in hiring out it's operatives to anybody with the money to pay them, being responsible for assasinations the world over. One of their agents has gone rogue and others have been tasked with hunting them down and bringing them in, or if that's not possible, then with killing them.
The RP will be a character driven sort of story, co-operation and communication are important and all that.
Anyway, all the rules apply and stuff and I'll post more info about the story in a litle bit.
Rated R for potential violence, sex and drug use.
[+]
If you're interested, post a CS using the following format. Also, all characters should be agency members or associates involved in the hunt for the rogue agent.
Note: Agency members have code names based on the NATO phonetic alphabet (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/NATO_phonetic_alphabet#Alphabet_and_pronunciation) , and Jill the Ripper has dibs on November. Also, Iris calls India.
Code Name
Name
Age
Appearance (Just a description, no pictures)
Bio (Not required, and if you post one, keep it short)
Edit, my character sheet.
Zulu
Michael Metzger
29
Tall, pale, dark eyes and hair.
Former operative for The Agency, he's since gone rogue and started taking freelance work on his own. His latest job is as a hitman for a New York based drug cartel.
An introduction, a rainy night in New York City.
It was a rainy night in New York city, the smell of wet asphalt and exhaust fumes hung over a narrow side street that was all desolate, a lonely sort of still. The big city rush a few streets over could have been a word away, someone jumping on their brakes, bald tyre screetch and and the wail of a car horn blaring over the rush of tyres on wet roads.
There was a black Mercedes Benz parked in front of a hole in the wall sort of restraunt, low slung and sinister, like a black panther poised for the attack. The restraunt wasn't much more than a window smeared with something written in Turkish in a garish brown that could have been purple twenty years ago.
Inside was tense, so thick it was suffocating, men in dark suits sat around a booth near the door to a filthy kitchen that smelled like cooked meat and cigarette ash. They spoke in muted tones, there were no customers to speak of, picking at a mostly finished dinner and sipping on glasses of red wine.
"So what do we do?" Asked a man in a red tie, fishing a pack of Parliaments out of a breast pocket, lit one with a disposable lighter and dragged on it nervously.
He was Robert, head of the gang's drug smuggling operations down south.
All attention was on another man, much larger than the rest, salt and pepper hair clippered short and he had big and gold cufflinks that glittered in the low light. He had an air of authority to him, round face pockmarked and lined with age, a mean looking scar cut awkwardy from the corner of his mouth to a cheek bone that was a kindly and middle aged sort of soft.
His name was Alfred, a big German who ran his gang with an iron fist.
"We hire an outsider." He said thoughtfully, almost like he was chewing on his words before he spoke them. "Someone who can get the job done."
And then there was a long silence, another man, this one wearing a blue tie lit a little black cigar and wiped his forehead with a monogramed hankerchef.
"I know just the person."
All eyes on the man with the blue tie and the big man made an inquisitive sort of noise, dark eyes fixated on his subordinate, a man called Carmine. He was the head of the gang's gunmen, a general in times of war, head of a vast spy ring in times of peace.
"Who?" Robert asked, taking another pull on his cigarette and rolling the ash into a metal ashtray between his mostly empty plate and his dwindling glass of red.
"An outsider, a real crazed gunman, works for the private sector but I've heard that he's gone freelancer."
[+]
The Agency is a secretive organization that specializes in hiring out it's operatives to anybody with the money to pay them, being responsible for assasinations the world over. One of their agents has gone rogue and others have been tasked with hunting them down and bringing them in, or if that's not possible, then with killing them.
The RP will be a character driven sort of story, co-operation and communication are important and all that.
Anyway, all the rules apply and stuff and I'll post more info about the story in a litle bit.
Rated R for potential violence, sex and drug use.
[+]
If you're interested, post a CS using the following format. Also, all characters should be agency members or associates involved in the hunt for the rogue agent.
Note: Agency members have code names based on the NATO phonetic alphabet (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/NATO_phonetic_alphabet#Alphabet_and_pronunciation) , and Jill the Ripper has dibs on November. Also, Iris calls India.
Code Name
Name
Age
Appearance (Just a description, no pictures)
Bio (Not required, and if you post one, keep it short)
Edit, my character sheet.
Zulu
Michael Metzger
29
Tall, pale, dark eyes and hair.
Former operative for The Agency, he's since gone rogue and started taking freelance work on his own. His latest job is as a hitman for a New York based drug cartel.