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The train to Timber arrived late; the few minutes might cost Larsa his success. Or it might cost someone else their life. He strode onto the platform with the same purpose and irritation as the professionals he rode in with, and sped off the platform into the city. He had received the briefing just after leaving Command, but would need to review it before starting the mission. He crossed into a nearby restaurant and took a seat in a booth, ignoring the waitresses' greetings and the other patrons. A few seconds passed and a waitress approached his booth with a menu. He looked up at her through dark glasses.
"Hey, there, welc--" she began with a practiced smile. "Mimosa, to drink. And a patty melt. Onion rings. Hot tea, with milk, as well. Thank you." He said.
The waitress's smile widened as she turned and left. Larsa heard the curse she whispered as she left. He took a cell phone from his pocket and flipped it open. As he observed the screen and restlessly pressed the buttons he went back in his mind to the briefing documents.
The objective had been to secure a data cache from the personal computer of Melinda Bailey. Bailey is expected to be a Timber Owl, which is an organisation which currently exists as a branch of the Galbadian power base. The data was crucial to some of ShinRa's goals, but Larsa neither knew nor much cared what they were. He moved on in his train of thoughts to consider Melinda Bailey.
Bailey was obviously female, 49 years old, blonde with brown eyes, tall and athletic, and had a hostile attitude. If discovered, Larsa would have to use force to subdue her. If Bailey was, in fact, a Timber Owl, Larsa was given clearance to let her live. However, if she was discovered to be an agent of any other organisation or company, she was to be eliminated before Larsa could leave Timber. Again, Larsa had no idea why, but it did not matter. Attached were her work hours for the day.
Larsa reviewed the briefing again, then sipped the mimosa the waitress quietly placed on his table. He considered his approach and thought, as usual, the less directly he approached the cache, the better. He would get Bailey to bring the cache out of the house to a more secure location, and intercept it before she reached it. He could tell by the method and execution of the transport whether Bailey was Owl or national. He'd also know the true importance of the cache. But first, he'd need a reason for Bailey to think the cache was compromised.
Larsa was going to pay a visit to Daniel Bailey. Melinda Bailey's son. He enjoyed this meal and tea and left the waitress a tip from the Silvanus expense gil. He appreciated her silence.
Following the leads included in his briefing documents, Larsa made his way to the Timber Maniacs, where Daniel was working as an editor.
It must be convenient having a son as an newsprint editor,
[/b]Larsa thought, considering the Timber Owls' operation, He would also be an easy scapegoat if any sources of propaganda were discovered.
Larsa's nose crinkled with disgust at the thought. By any means necessary, indeed. But who was he to judge the actions of the Owls, when he had killed dozens innocent and guilty people on the orders of people he had never met? He banished the pointless thoughts of morality and focused on his mission.
He tossed his bag in an alley trashcan, then turned the corner and stepped into the Maniacs' lobby. There were seven people waiting. He decided that once security arrived, it would be easier to escape onto the street from whatever room he was in, rather than trying to leave through the front door. He wanted as many people seeing him as possible, but he did not want to risk being grabbed or touch by someone trying to "be a hero" and breaking his cover. He had his long, red-gold hair pulled into a tight bun and sprayed black with a super-temporary dye which looked convincing, but washed straight out with water. He wore a tailored suit, and while already tall, its straight, pin-striped legs made him look positively towering. He had false tanning product sprayed on his visible skin, which could also be washed off. All he needed was fifteen minutes alone to become completely anonymous to everyone not paying close attention.
He softened his expression as he stepped up to the counter. The receptionist looked up at him. Her cheeks were rosy and her smile was genuine. Larsa thought she would be attractive with darker hair and in a more relevant job.
"Can I help you, sir?"
"Yes, hi, is Dan in? I can't reach him in his office." Larsa said.
He hesitated for a moment, looking a little embarrassed. Daniel Bailey, 24 years old, homosexual, single. Editor at Timber Maniacs... Larsa quickly recalled from the briefings. He considered his coworkers and their schedules as well.
"We were.. supposed to have a... um, lunch. He said he might have a meeting today with Lydia.. Banks, I think? Maybe it ran long?"
The receptionist clicked the keyboard for a few moments. "He did have a meeting this morning, but he should.. yes, it's been over for about an hour."
"Oh.." Larsa said, quietly, frowning a little. "Maybe I could call him for you? Let him know you're here?" she offered, sympathy dawning in her expression.
"Yeah, that would be great!" Larsa said, immediately.
He looked over towards the people in the lobby, noticing some of them had become very interested in the conversation. He looked mortified, then turned back and attempted to smile. The receptionist, seeing his face, peered after him at the waiting guests. Her hand paused on its path towards the phone. "Um.. You know, why don't you just go on up? I'm sure it'll be fine." she said with a smile.
"Okay, thanks." He said, relieved. Then, he mouthed "Thank you," and turned toward the back.
Larsa almost felt bad that the woman would surely lose her job. But she never really stood a chance. His face fell into an look of cold determination as he climbed the stairs and strode into Daniel Bailey's cramped office. He had only seen two security guards in the building, but seven viable escape routes. Luckily the shades were drawn, so he could keep his facade going for a little while longer. He smiled at Daniel and sat down in the little chair beside his desk.
"Do we have an appointment?" he asked politely.
Daniel was clearly very tall and thin, even behind his desk, and he wore large clothes to hide what Larsa assumed he thought was a lacking physique. His hair was very neatly combed and so blonde it was nearly white. His dark blue eyes were narrowed behind black, horn-rimmed glasses. Larsa stared at him for a moment, suddenly paralysed by mixed feelings towards the young editor. Daniel Bailey was very likely going to be seriously injured or killed in just a few minutes, and that bothered Larsa.
"Um.. hello?" Daniel said, sounding irritated.
Larsa severed those feelings and placed them aside to be considered after his mission was complete.
"I'm not going to lie to you Mister Bailey, i've come here for information my sources say you have. Very important and classified information." Larsa said quietly, his voice cold and smooth.
Bailey's pale eyebrows raised. "I'm not a reporter, so I have no idea what you're talking about. I think you want--"
"This concerns your mother and an organisation called the Timber Owls."
Bailey's hand shot towards the phone, but Larsa's hand closed around his wrist before it made it halfway. He struggled for a moment, but Larsa turned his arm and Bailey froze in sudden pain, his body turned awkwardly. He opened his mouth to scream.
"If if I hear anything more than a whisper from you, I will tear you apart with my bare hands. Do you understand me?"
Bailey's mouth closed. Larsa turned the arm just a little, and Bailey's eyes sparkled with tears, though he was silent. Larsa carefully dismissed them.
"Good. Your mother has an Owls data cache. Do you know about this?" Larsa whispered.
Bailey hesitated, then nodded.
"Good boy. Where is it?"
Bailey was quiet. Larsa sighed.
"I won't kill her. Or you. I want the data secured, not your lives. Now, tell me, or I break it. Then I -will- kill her. Just to spite you."
"At home. Her house." Bailey said at once. "Specifically." Larsa said. "In her bedroom on the second floor. The largest bedroom. There is a safe behind the headboard of her bed. The hard drive with the cache is inside it."
All information Larsa already had. With the exception of the precise location of the safe. But he knew it was hidden. But there was one more piece of unnecessary information to extract from Mister Bailey.
"You're hiding something. What is it?" Larsa said.
Bailey closed his eyes for a moment, then looked at Larsa, his eyes full of pain and rage. Larsa smiled.
"The files can only be accessed from her computer. The cache has an IFF protocol installed into it. It will self-destruct if it doesn't get the return signal from her computer." he said, very quietly.
Larsa stared at him again. He could see the devastation he felt from having to betray his mother. He did not realise that his mother would throw him in front of bullets meant for her at any time.
"Your mother set you up for this. You were the weakest link. All of the information and none of the protection. Poor thing." Larsa said. To punctuate his point, he turned his wrist and Bailey's arm broke with a snap. Bailey's face turned green and he screamed.
Larsa had just enough time to stand and pulled Bailey in front of him as a shield before people filled the room. An armed security guard squeezed to the front, drawing his gun. Larsa smiled more broadly as he shuffled him and the distraught Bailey towards the back window. He positioned himself in front of it as he say the rosy receptionist peeked her head in; horrified. The guard was screaming orders, but Larsa turned and sent his free elbow into the window, shattering it.
"I nearly feel bad for hurting you. Don't tell anyone." Larsa whispered in Bailey's ear.
He pushed Bailey into the crowd across the room and as they were distracted in catching him, Larsa turned and leaped through the window, falling into the back alley. He grabbed his bag from a trashcan as he ran away from the Timber Maniacs.
---- Word Count: 1750 [EDITED: 7/31/2012 for accuracy.] Updated Word Count: 1803
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Last Edit: Jul 31, 2012 19:51:00 GMT by Larsa Gott
Larsa did not slow his pace as he tore through the Timber alleys at an incredible speed. He could see the city's map in his head and followed the paths he remembered to a nearby bar he previously selected as one of several locations to change his appearance. He reached the back door and stopped suddenly from his previous motion. He grasped and turned the rusty knob. It was locked.
He leaned forward and pressed his ear to the door, listening carefully to the sounds on the other side. He focused and heard the bar sounds, and closer to him the voice of the bartender. Closer was the sound of a woman on a phone near running water, most likely in a bathroom, and closer than that was nothing. He put more pressure on the doorknob and a second later there was a sharp sound as the locking mechanism shattered. He jiggled the knob and the door fell open. Larsa checked that the alley behind him was empty, then stepped into the cool storeroom.
He closed the door gently behind him and pulled off his sunglasses as he crossed to the door and stepped into the hall. He waited, then listened as the chatty woman left the bathroom and returned to the bar. Larsa inched to the end of the hall and peered around the corner. The hall was empty and no one was visible nearby. He turned his attention to the door of the men's bathroom and felt power surging within him. He took a step forward and in a blur of motion he was standing in front of the door. Just as quickly, he pushed it open and stepped inside. [Blur used; -10 MP. MP = 190] Looking and listening, he confirmed that it was empty. He turned and luckily spotted the door had a lock. He clicked it into place, then immediately dropped his bag and set to work. He loosed his tight bun, allowing waves the colour of copper wire fall over his shoulders and down his back. The top of his head was caked with black and he bent it over the sink as he turned on the faucet. He scrubbed the water over his head and scalp, watching as black water ran down the drain. He raised his head and squeezed the water from his hair as he gazed at his reflection. The dye has rinsed from his hair completely. He could only be glad it hadn't rained.
He pulled a towel from his bag and wrapped it around his hair and head. He splashed water onto his face and hands and used the bathroom's paper towels to wipe the tan from his fair skin. He stuffed the soiled paper towels into his bag as he pulled jeans and a light blue t-shirt from it. He quickly stripped out of the suit, slipped it into the bag and donned the casual clothes. He switched his black shoes with white trainers. He reached into the bottom of the bag and pulled from it a square backpack made of thin silvery material with a straight handle jutting from its top, looking similar to a tennis racket. Larsa swung the backpack onto his back by its white strings, then grasped the handle and pulled. With a series of clicks and a quiet tear Larsa was holding a long, complex, but clearly deadly sword. He looked over the blade for a few moments, then clicked a tiny mechanism as he pointed it forward. Within seconds the sword had clicked itself into an enlongated, triple-barreled pistol. Larsa smiled, clicked another mechanism, then swept it back into the torn pack. It was no more than a block of blue and white with a handle. Within a few seconds the silvery pack mended until it was whole. Larsa continued smiling as he bent and pulled a long cord and a thumb drive from the bag and stuffed them into his pockets. He swept the towel from his head and stuffed it into the bag. He pulled a fisherman's cap from it and slapped it onto his damp hair. He zipped the bag, picked it up, then turned to the mirror again. He looked normal enough, but ran his fingers through the dry parts of his hair to give it a more natural curl. He turned, unlocked the door, then strolled out into the bar.
He approached the busiest bartender with a frown.
"Barman! What happened to the shots I ordered?" He said over the noise in a distinct Alexandrian accent.
The bartender turned and glared at him. "Look, kid, we got a lot of customers. I need to see some ID, anyway."
"ID?" Larsa said, making an indignant gesture, "Why do I need ID, now? I ordered ten minutes ago!"
"This isn't Alexandria, boy. No ID, no drinks!"
Larsa rolled his eyes and sighed with irritation. "Fine! I'm leaving. Don't think you won't hear from me, again! You've just made the worst mistake of your life!"
"Yeah, yeah..."
Larsa stormed out of the bar into the street, escorted by the bouncer. He crossed and started towards main street. The other operatives were often bemused by his tendency to make a spectacle of himself while on assignment. Larsa liked to leave a very clear trail of his activities and demeanor during a mission, because law enforcement would tend not to look for a tiny thread to examine, which may lead them to the truth, when they have several large events to examine, which could take months to investigate but will inevitably run cold and leave the officers frustrated and ready to lay the case to rest.
But, Larsa was heading back towards the Timber Maniacs, and he was in-character and he was focused. He would need to discover Ms. Bailey's location, and follow her to the trade off point. As he walked over a bridge, he dropped his bag over its edge, and briefly watched it disappear under the flowing water before walking off. It had been less than a half-hour since he made his escape from the Maniacs' building, and as he expected, there was a crowd forming around the police line. Larsa, looking interested, approached the back of the crowd and got up on his toes to look over the crowd. A short young man next to him nudged him as he tried to spot Ms. Bailey. He lowered his heels to the ground and looked down at the young man.
"Hey, what's going on up there?" he asked.
"I'm not sure, there are police going in and out and talking to people. What happened?" Larsa said, his accent still Alexandrian.
The young man looked pleased to have extra information. "Well... I heard that some loony broke in and attacked one of the editors."
"No! Why?"
"I dunno. Probably didn't like a story."
Larsa shook his head, laughing inside on how easily the truth is distorted. "Gracious. There are some very ill people in this world."
"You're telling me! Just the other day I--"
"Please excuse me! My son's in there!" a voice rang out behind them.
Larsa turned to look right in the face of Melinda Bailey. If he had not been so well-trained he would have reached out and snapped her neck. Instead, he stood aside.
"Make way! Make way!" he said, helping Ms. Bailey reach the front of the crowd. He noticed the young man using this opportunity to move in closer to the front.
The police pushed him back, and he protested weakly, but he was listening to Ms. Bailey talk to another policeman. Another man in a suit was fast approaching them. He reached them, dismissed the officer, then pulled Ms. bailey past the line. Larsa turned his head to listen as they spoke in a carrying whisper.
... called you right after the incident... ... had to grab... had to see to my son, I couldn't... ... brought it with you? Are you insane?! ... inside, it's more secure...
Then he allowed Ms. Bailey to pass and ushered her inside. Larsa continued to wait and play the part of an interested citizen with very little else to do during the day. He stared whenever someone walked out of the building, and exchanged in inane small talk with the annoying locals. But almost two hours had passed and Larsa discovered that Mr. Bailey, whose arm Larsa had broken, had not been removed from the building, although paramedics had arrived almost immediately, and Ms. Bailey had not appeared again. Larsa was certain Mr. Bailey was being interrogated.
Larsa was upset and not particularly chatty when Mr. Bailey finally came out on a stretcher. Larsa looked at him, and noticed that he had a blackened eye and there were cuts on his arms. When Larsa left him, he was unharmed with the exception of his broken arm. Ms. Bailey followed closely behind him, looking incredibly angry. But her anger was dwarfed by Larsa's, who inexplicably felt a storm of magic ignite beneath his skin. He heard the young man gasp beside him, and quickly diverted his glance and tried to calm the power within him. He turned toward the young man, looking no more than curious.
"What?"
"I saw electricity on you! Like a little lightning bolt!" he said, staring, wide-eyed, at Larsa's shoulder.
Larsa jumped and quickly brushed off his shoulder. He looked up at the power lines at the end of the street. "You don't think they could reach that far?"
The young man shook his head, slowly. "I don't know. Weird day..."
"Quite." Larsa said, turning to look as Ms. Bailey left the area with the man in the suit.
Larsa waited with the crowd for a few minutes, then said goodbye to the young man as he wandered off with the first few to leave. He left the area as part of a group, then returned and went in the same direction as Ms. Bailey and the suit. He discovered them more quickly than he expected, and found them talking with a third man, who Larsa recognised as Galbadian intelligence agent, Samael Fischer. Larsa slipped into cover and opened his ears. He knew that whatever he heard would not be good, as that particular agent had come across Larsa twice, before today.
"We can't be caught out in the open like this. We need to keep mov--" Fischer said.
"No!" Ms. Bailey said, "We need to know what we're dealing with here. Tell us about this operative."
"There's not a lot I can tell you about him. Most of his file is restricted. But he's very skilled at deception, and there's no reason to believe anything he did with your son had anything to do with his plans. He's difficult to track or stop because he leaves multiple trails and only actually pursues his goal when it's too late to try and stop him. The best thing you can do right now is come with me to HQ and stay under guard with the cache until things die down."
The suit was quiet. Larsa figured he was watching their surroundings, looking for signs of an operative that was beginning to sounds like Larsa, himself.
"I can't. You take it. This cache isn't the only data I have at home. Not to mention cash and notes and--"
"Alright, alright. Give me the drive. Then hurry home. It's not safe out, and the sun's going down." Fischer said, quickly.
Larsa was suddenly moved to look out of cover. The conversation seemed too convenient and too focused. He couldn't help but think it might be a set-up. He had been caught, surprised, by their location, but none of them had heard his approach. They were discussing vital and confidential information just off of the main road and at a normal volume. Fischer was a good agent, but he wasn't Larsa. Larsa smiled as he spotted the "drive" was actually a thick book, and painted black. If Larsa had been a normal person, he would not have been able to spot the fake. But Larsa was not and would never be any definition of normal.
He moved back, quietly, and slipped off onto the main road. He knew Bailey's address, and he figured he could enter her house and secure the data, which was most likely still inside her safe, before she made it back. He could complete his mission and avoid breaking the promise he made to Daniel Bailey.
Larsa raced to Melinda Bailey's house, taking the quickest route he could calculate from the map of Timber he had committed to memory. This was the final act in his mission, and it had to go absolutely perfect for him to achieve success. He was almost certain that the cache was still inside Bailey's house, and probably still locked in her safe. If it was not there, and the decoy was with agent Fischer and his guard, then it would be in a third location. As Larsa turned into an alley, reaching the halfway point, he quickly considered those alternatives.
The most likely third location would be in Bailey's office, either in Timber or Deling. Surprisingly, the Timber office would be more secure, so it would likely be there. Then Bailey's Deling residence, and her son's residence, which seemed unlikely. Other than that, Larsa considered the possibility that the cache was handed off to another Owl. If that was the case, it would take Larsa a day or more to track the new holder, by which time the data would surely be encrypted or erased.
Larsa increased his speed, hoping his initial hunch was accurate, as he could not afford to lose this data. It was labelled highest priority by command, and Larsa was instructed to go in dark, which almost never happens. Pushing those thoughts from his mind, Larsa considered the house itself. It was located in an odd spot and couldn't be accessed from its roof, so Larsa would have to enter via the ground floor.
If Bailey had guards posted, which she almost certainly would if the cache was there, Larsa would have to take all of them down, securing both floors before searching for the device. Things could get very difficult very quickly if the police arrived at the house before he secured the cache. If Larsa had to kill police to escape or finish the upload, he could become undesirable number one in the country of Deling, and that prospect was unacceptable.
Larsa slowed at the corner, and looked out at the small yard between the building and the fence that surrounded Bailey's property. He couldn't see any guards outside the house, but he could see the lights on both floors. He would need to get as close to the master bedroom as he could without shots being fired, to minimise the chances of police involvment.
Larsa crept from the shadows of the buildings as quickly as he could, and surveyed the area as he moved. There were no guards in the back or sides of the building. Larsa assumed that, unless they were very inept, there were no guards posted outside of the building. Larsa lowered himself to the ground as he very quickly crossed the grassy patch and knelt on the steps in front of the back door. He had checked it for security flood lights on his approach.
He pressed his ear to the door and listened to the voices inside. He heard two distinct ones immediately.
"Mel just called. The decoy's in play and the agent is convinced the other operative is in pursuit. She'll be here in about 20 minutes." He said.
Larsa smiled to himself. He had never been so pleased to be identified. He continued to listen.
"We should move the cache. I have a bad feeling--"
"No," said the first voice, "we have orders to hold the cache until Bailey gets here."
A third voice chimed in. "He's right, we're not in any position to make that kind of decision. Just keep your ears open. I'm going upstairs."
He listened to the steps on the stairs, but could not hear anything upstairs. He assumed there was at least one other guard upstairs. Now was the time to enter the house. He tested the knob. Of course it was locked. He could break it, but the snap of the lock would alert the guards. He looked around and saw the window over the sink was open. Only a mesh shade stood between him and the inside of the house. He moved silently off the porch and back into the grass.
With a light click, he removed the gunblade from his back and transformed it into its sword configuration. He stood back, and with two sharp movements, cut the shade until it fell open. He closed the weapon and returned it to his sealing pack. Completely silent, Larsa pulled himself through the window and placed one foot, then the other into the empty sink. He hopped onto the tile floor a second later, staying low to the ground. He crept to the edge of the kitchen and peered out, briefly.
The two guards were watching television. The volume was low, so Larsa was extra careful. The living room was small, and the guards were sitting in chairs on either side of it. The guard on Larsa's left side was sitting in a squashy comfortable chair, and would be the slower to rise. He made his plan, and drew his sword. He ready to begin the final phase of his mission. Victory was his only thought.
Larsa stepped into the living room and focused on the guard in the spindly armchair. They turned towards him, starting to get up as power surged within his body. With a blur of motion, he was on him before he could fully rise. Larsa grabbed the guard by his throat and plunged the bluish blade into his chest.
BATTLE INTELLIGENCE PROGRAM - Silvanus LLC.
Larsa Gott - HP, 300. MP, 190 status: none Uses "Blur" technique (10 MP) to enter melee range. Attacks TIMBER OWL with an attack rating of 306. His attack is melee.
Gregory Pierce; Timber Owl - HP, 300. MP, 50 status: none Attacked by LARSA GOTT with a melee attack rating of 300. Defense rating is 100. Unable to block or evade attack.
Larsa turned as the other Owl got to his feet and reached for his gun. Larsa put one foot on the low table between them, and pushed off with his other foot, using the other Owl's falling body, and threw himself at the Owl. He slashed across his body, cutting across his stomach and arm. He screamed as he fell back.
BATTLE INTELLIGENCE PROGRAM - Silvanus LLC.
Larsa Gott - HP, 300. MP, 180 status: none Attacks TIMBER OWL with an attack rating of 306. His attack is melee.
Ryan Pierce, Jr.; Timber Owl - HP, 300. MP, 50 status: none Attacked by LARSA GOTT with a melee attack rating of 300. Defense rating is 100. Unable to block or evade attack.
Ryan Pierce, Jr. - HP, 94. MP, 50. status: critically injured
Program Complete. ... ...
Larsa turned and sped up the narrow stairs, leaving the moaning, injured Owls behind. The third Owl appeared at the top of the stairs, a sword in one hand, and a gun in the other. He raised the gun and fired. Larsa focused his attention on the bullet, and soon he could see it moving through the air. He raised his gunblade at the right angle and the bullet struck it and ricochetted into the wall. He did not stop his ascent, and swung the sword in and upwards arc. The Owl leapt into the air and brought his sword down on Larsa's. The metal clanged as he parried the blow. Larsa charged forward, forcing the battle into the hallway. The Owl holstered his gun and gripped his sword with both hands.Larsa could hear a fourth guard moving. He needed to be quick.
Larsa and the Owl squared off, preparing their next attacks. Larsa allowed the Owl to strike first, and he did, swinging his sword in a powerful arc. Larsa stepped to one side, raising his sword beside him to allow the strike to slide across it, throwing the Owl off balance. Larsa moved his sword into the way of the Owl's fall, and the blade slid across his stomach as he fell.
BATTLE INTELLIGENCE PROGRAM - Silvanus LLC.
Larsa Gott - HP, 300. MP, 180 status: none Attacked by TIMBER OWL with a ranged attack rating of 200. His attack is melee. Larsa GUARDS against the blow, then attacks. His attack is GUARDED against and has no effect. Turn ends. Attacked by TIMBER OWL with a melee attack rating of 210. Larsa GUARDS against the blow, then attacks, with an attack rating of 306. His attack is melee.
Aaron Lancaster; Timber Owl - HP, 300. MP, 50 status: none Attacks LARSA GOTT with a ranged attack rating of 200. Larsa GUARDS against the blow, then attacks. GUARDS against the blow. Turn ends. Attacks LARSA GOTT with a melee attack rating of 210. Larsa GUARDS against the blow, then attacks with a melee attack rating of 306. Defense rating is 100.
Larsa spotted the fourth guard as he stepped into the open and fired from his rifle. Larsa raised his gunblade, but was too late. Pain washed over him as the bullet struck his left shoulder. He raised his gunblade, which transformed into its gun form, and fired. The crystalline bullet struck the Owl in the forehead and he dropped, heavily, to the ground. Larsa heard a choked cry from around his feet, and looked to see the third Owl reaching for the gun at his side.
He had moved too far, and his wound opened. Larsa aimed the gun at his head and fired. He went limp, immediately. Larsa turned back to the stairs and went halfway down. He looked at the first two Owls, and saw them moving feebly. Two more shots rang out, and Larsa was alone in the house.
BATTLE INTELLIGENCE PROGRAM - Silvanus LLC.
Larsa Gott - HP, 300. MP, 180 status: none Attacked by TIMBER OWL with a ranged attack rating of 270. Unable to block or evade attack. Larsa's Defense rating is 200. Attacks TIMBER OWL with ranged attack rating of 304. Attacks TIMBER OWL with ranged attack rating of 304. Turn ends. Attacks TIMBER OWL with ranged attack rating of 304. Attacks TIMBER OWL with ranged attack rating of 304. Turn ends.
Raviv Tovar; Timber Owl - HP, 200. MP, 100 status: none Attacked LARSA GOTT with a ranged attack rating of 270. Larsa's Defense rating is 200. Attacked by Larsa with a ranged attack rating of 304. Unable to block or evade. Defense rating of 100.
Aaron Lancaster; Timber Owl - HP, 94. MP, 50. Attacked by LARSA GOTT with a ranged attack rating of 304. Unable to block or evade. Defense rating of 100. Turn ends. Ryan Pierce, Jr.; Timber Owl - HP, 94. MP, 50. Attacked by LARSA GOTT with a ranged attack rating of 304. Unable to block or evade. Defense rating of 100.
Gregory Pierce; Timber Owl - HP, 94. MP, 50. Attacked by LARSA GOTT with a ranged attack rating of 304. Unable to block or evade. Defense rating of 100. Turn ends.
Larsa checked his wound, determined it was not serious, then ran back up the stairs and into the master bedroom. He kneeled beside the dead marksman to check his pockets, and discovered a PDA. This would make things much easier. He opened the back, pulled the long wire from his pocket and plugged it into a socket beside the battery. He moved over to the bed and pushed it aside, revealing the wall safe.
He kneeled before it, opened a panel and pressed the other end of the wire into it. The PDA beeped and numbers flashed on the screen, cycling for a few moments before settling on seven. 2 4 8 1 9 4 7. Larsa cycled it again. 2 4 8 1 9 4 7. He punched the numbers into the safe. It beeped and sprang open. Larsa's heart pounded as he pulled it open.
There were bags and stacks of gil, bond notes and the black brick Larsa hoped would be there. He sighed with relief, then sprang back into action. He pulled the hard drive from the safe and moved it to the computer desk. He plugged it in, and with a series of key strokes, triggered the IFF protocol and accessed the cache. The files were encrypted. Luckily, Larsa was able to break that type of encryption within a minute, and soon he was viewing and memorising schematics of Galbadian military facilities, a member list of the Timber Owls, itineraries, weapons prototype schematics, research data, and a file on Esthar secret projects. Larsa froze, then opened the file.
New research on Project LARSA was inside. He read the files with wide eyes, hesitated, then deleted them from the cache, making sure to remove obvious flags to its deletion. He uploaded the rest of the cache to his flash drive, formatted the hard drive and computer, then drove his sword through them both.
He had removed the traces of his presence he could find (including the bullet that tore through his shoulder) and disappeared into the alleys before the police finally arrived at the house. Larsa was esctatic at the victory, and the new information about himself. He had technically betrayed ShinRa by keeping the information from Silvanus, but based on what he learned, he may be in more danger with the information in their hands. Larsa's power may soon increase exponentially, and ShinRa would not see it coming. Larsa slowed as he walked and allowed the storm of magic within him to churn and calm and it ran from his body in cool waves of green light. It swept over his injuries and healed them, leaving him looking mostly whole. He was a dusty and bloody, but the mixture looked like grimy dirt, and his shirt still had a hole in it. He tied his hair into a messy bun and hoped he looked more like a bum or labourer and less like a murderer.
Larsa turned into the train station and dialed a number on the PDA. He pressed it to his ear, and it rang once. A woman with a thick accent answered.
"ID." She said.
"One, niner, niner, Beta, Gamma, One."
There was a short pause. "Request."
"Transport. One operative. Galbadia. Alpha Quadrant. Coordinates are 2-3-1 dash 5-5-3. Two hours." Larsa said.
He reached the automated ticket booth and paid gil for a ticket out of Timber. He grabbed the ticket and jogged onto the train, just as the doors closed.
"Understood." The woman said. She hung up.
Larsa hung up as well, and promptly took the battery out of the PDA. He smiled at an old woman as he dusted himself off and looked for an empty compartment. He did not find one, but chose to sit in a compartment with a young woman and her daughter. He looked at the child and suddenly wondered if the Owls he killed had children. He blinked with surprise at the thought, and looked away from the little girl. His vision began to blur, and it took all Larsa had to banish the unusual thoughts and emotions. He wished he could go back and kill Melinda Bailey. But he had other priorities. And, he had made a promise.
Larsa reached a station far away from Timber about two hours later. It was pitch dark, and Larsa was tired, but smiled when he saw the single car parked in the tiny lot. He opened the door and got inside, closing the door behind him. The seats were leather and so comfortable. He picked up a metal case from the passenger seat, typed his ID into the pad and pulled the keys out, when it opened. He hesitated as he looked across the empty expanse around the station, then closed his eyes.
"Rest in Peace." He said.
He put the keys in the ignition and started the car. He pulled out of the station and drove towards Dollet, where he could return to Midgar. Mission Accomplished.
---- Narrative Word Count: 1887 Total Word Count: 2804 ---- Grand Total Narrative Word Count: 5723 Grand Total Word Count: 6640
