\ Haven:Mist and Shadow Logs/SR Fred-Rosa Into The Breach

SR Fred-Rosa Into The Breach

When Rosa enters the briefing room, she is met by an impeccably dressed man of middle-eastern descent. There is a sense of cold calculation to the fellow and his brilliant green eyes seem to drill into the world like augurs. He is immaculately dressed in a black suit that seems to have been made specifically for him, a bespoke thing in truth. On his right hand he wears a signet ring set with a clenched fist. "Miss LeBlanc," the man says, his head tilting towards her. "Thank you for coming." He gestures to a nearby seat. "I am Imad al-Hussain. I believe we share certain associations." There is a faint smile on his lips. "There is a former asset that has... let us say gone rogue. We need to find out where he is and, more importantly, who he has shared this information with." He nods to a device set on the round table in the center of the room.

"That will help maintain the appropriate link into the Nightmare, where we will find the asset -- along the psychic plane," Imad adds, his tone crisp. "I will help with the target acquisition once we are in the dream, but, I need you to..." He smiles thinly, "Help convince him to share with you the information and the organization that he is currently working from. I could force it from him, but, I imagine you have a lighter touch. If he does not realize what has occurred? It will make acquisition in the real world much simpler."

Rosa smooths her tongue freely from French to English, and she finds herself sliding into the seat the man has gestured to, clad in nothing more than bra and panties. Either she doesn't notice, or she doesn't care, comfort being of utmost importance to the woman. At the man's explanation of the scenario, she nods, seeming quite appropriately dressed for such a task. "I can do that," she says with a seductive drawl to her French accent. "Drawing out information subtly is on of my specialties... Mister Al-Hussain. But I'm sure that's why you've brought me here in the first place, isn't it?"

"Indeed," Imad says, nodding to Rosa. "The target is Mikhail Urbanski. He was, at the time, an asset in Kiev. Mortal, but, well-bound. Or so we thought." There's a twist of his lips. "He's gone to ground. Given the nature of the applied bindings, it seems that this has been a counter-strike planned for sometime. An unfortunate affair, that." His voice is bland, expressionless and his eyes the same. Flat. Unemotional. "Once we enter the dream we will review the status of the environment. If necessary, adjustments to our appearances and personas may be required." He opens a black leather folio and draws out a manila folder, which he hands to Rosa. "This is the profile of our target."

The dossier describes the named fellow as a low-ranking asset, with ties to the local corporate and law enforcement communities in Kiev. He is a Russian national that, apparently, likes to party. The provided picture is of a good looking, if slightly stocky man in his late twenties. There's a note in the dossier that describes his handler, a woman by the name of Katarina Abramov. She is listed as missing and presumed dead.

Rosa accepts the folder, using delicate fingers to flip through the pages as she looks over the available information. "Mikhail Urbanski," she repeats, glancing over the picture attached, then through separate file notes. "He's handsome, so this won't be such a chore. This missing woman.. When was the last time she was seen?" she inquires, pressing her bow-shaped lips together into a slight frown. "He can't be that dangerous. He's a human." She grins, looking up to Al-Hussain once more and then giving him a rather intrigued look as she scans his body from top to bottom.

"Obviously. The danger is what might have been passed on to others -- and whether or not that will require sending additional assets to contain the possible breach." At her description of the man, Imad offers a bland chuckle. "For certain definitions of the word," he offers, his tone richly amused. "Katarina has been missing for a week. The assumption is that she has been slain. Part of your objectives will be to confirm that or determine if she has been suborned as well. Given her particular profile, it is viewed as unlikely, but possible."

"Do you have any questions, miss LeBlanc?" Imad asks.

"No questions other than 'when do we begin?'" Rosa says with an easy shrug of her shoulders, leaning back in her chair into a somewhat relaxed position. "Oh, I suppose I have one more. You mentioned our.. Identities possibly... Needing to be reassigned in the dreaming. What form would you like me to take on?"

"Immediately," Imad says, his fingers moving to the device on the table. He begins to enter a few commands into the display unit attached to it. Mikhail's information and target profile are linked and he reaches into the inside of his jacket, drawing out a small phylactery. It is set into the device itself and he nods, once. "It will depend on the nature of the environment we find ourselves in. We will discuss this once we are in the dream itself." And, with that, he taps another button on the device and a series of electrodes attached to coils come out. He places two of the leads onto his temples, waiting for Rosa to do the same.

Rosa accepts the fallen electrodes, placing them against her temples and relaxing back in her chair. "We'll be going together, then," she says, peeking one eye open to look at the man in the tailored suit with a pleasant smile. She sets her hands in her laps and wiggles her hips some, looking excited. "Oh, this is going to be so fun," she says happily, unable to hide the wide grin on her face.

"Indeed," Imad says, giving Rosa a dry smile. "Given the nature of the information. Think of me as your handler in this." Then, he adds, "And it will serve to flesh out your usefulness for future endeavors." His tone is amused, but with a touch of an edge to it. Seeing that the electrodes are attached, Imad touches his hand to a pad that appears to be fitted for such. Reality starts to run like so much molten wax and they begin to lose consciousness. When they awaken, they would find themselves in a blasted hellscape of a ruined city. In places, kudzu has begun to take hold, but there are also signs of habitation in the city and Imad's eyes narrow. With his head bowed, he mutters a few words, drawing a circle in the air. In less than ten minutes, he nods. "Good. He is not far. He is with a group of humans. I do not see Katarina, so, if she is present in this... she is not bearing her usual form."

"Tattered and patchwork clothing. Grungy. I assume you can play the ingenue?" Imad inquires of her, his tone amused. "He appears to have gathered a small court for himself. The small king of a petty kingdom. Mortals." The last is said with a touch of derision.

Rosa slides her fingers over her form from top to bottom, and as she does everything about her seems to change. Her hair becomes silken and black with subtle waves that fall down to her shoulders. Her eyes darken to a chocolaty brown, and more noticeably, her fair, pale skin becomes toughened and tanned by the sun until it takes on a lovely shade of caramel. She shrinks down in height, now no taller than five feet even, and turns to look at the man as her lips visibly become more plump and full. "Y-Yes, sir," she says quietly, lowering her eyes as she slips into character.

"I will be watching you from afar," Imad says. Is that a hint of approval in the slight smile he gives her? Perhaps. Without preamble, his form collapses into itself, seemingly congealing into a ball of black, necromantic force. When it re-expands, it becomes a swarm of angry, black hornets that buzz in the air. That swarm begins to lead the way to one of the ruined skyscrapers. Most of it appears to have been sheared away from whatever cataclysmic event happened here. Signs of habitation are present on the bottom three levels. Buzzing, the swarm forms into a point towards the building and then flows into the number three. About two thousand feet from it, it veers off. One of the hornets lands on her hair, burying itself inside those flowing waves.

"Third floor," Rosa says quietly as she makes her way down the hill overlooking the ruins with small, feminine steps. She adopts a sway to her hips as she walks, traveling over and around debris with ease. Soon the building is towering over her, and she glances up at the third floor for only a brief moment before finding herself inside. She looks around for any signs of life- refugees, fugitives, vagrants- and clears her throat, preparing for a swoon at the next sign of life.

The approach to the building is made with a certain ease. Though the roads are cracked and broken, there are signs that some work has been done, gravel and the like filling some of the holes. Thankfully, there is still enough light to see. About fifty yards out, Rosa would see what appear to be guards dressed in patchwork leathers, though they also all wear better looking dusters with a red leather badge over the heart, tooled with a black crown in the middle. They also all have what look like machetes belted to their wastes. Several of them carry shotguns as well. Taking note of Rosa, one of the guards says, "Identify yourself." His tone is commanding and harsh as he looks her over. One of the other guards smirks and nudges the speaker, whispering something in his ear. This receives a roll of the speakers eyes, but he does offer an acknowledging nod, his eyes shifting back to Rosa.

"I.. I am called Owl," Rosa says weakly as she approaches the men, her hands clasped at her stomach. She wobbles to the side, her eyes slipping closed as her legs seem to fail her. "I... W-Water..." she pleads before crumpling to the ground on her knees, legs hanging limply at her sides before she topples over entirely, her face pressed against the dirt as she faints before the large group of men. Her clothing is tattered, but not unattractive: a patchwork leather crop top which reveals her navel, and leather hot pants cut just above the lower crease of her ass. She is barefoot, and covered in dust and dirt from her travel and imminent collapse.

"Fuck," the speaking guard says, upnodding his partner. As she falls, the man hands his shotgun to another guard, draws his pistol and moves over to her. "Grab some water, Will," he barks, before giving Rosa a quick, but thorough patdown. Brisk but not handsy. "She's clean," he says, reaching down to haul her to her feet. "Welcome to Bastion. I'm James."

"J-James.." Rosa says, her voice thin and papery as the man reaches down and pulls her to her feet. She gently lays a hand against his chest, along with her face for 'support' when he does, her legs trembling. Should Will return quickly with the water, she would accept it graciously, tilting the bottle or canteen up to her lips to drink long and slow. "Thank you.." she says with a shy, embarrassed blush on her face. A droplet of water rolls down her chin, dripping down onto her chest and rolling between the curves of her breasts before disappearing between. She offers the receptacle hesitantly back to Will when she has finished.

"You're welcome," James says, offering Rosa a kind seeming smile, his eyes tracking her over. Looking to Will, he says, "Looks like an outlier. Given her state, my guess is a raider hit." He seems okay serving as a brace, giving her a nod. "Go ahead and lean on me. Be a good girl." Then Will speaks, "The boss'll want to see her you know." He gives her a long look, watching with a moue of amusement. James raises a brow. "She's a bit the worse for wear, Will." Then he pauses, "But that won't stop the boss. Alright, lets bring her into the perimeter. She'll need more water probably. Some quick bread too. Give her an hour -- then we'll bring her up to the boss."

Meanwhile, the hornet buried in her hair remains still, though easily felt.

"The boss?" Rosa asks innocently as the men likely start to lead her into the ruined building, her hand on James' chest clutching as though she needs him to remain steady. Her bare feet stumble on expertly as she walks with the two men, possibly more, but she can't see any others the way she's pressed up against the leader. "Bread would be nice.. And more water.. I'm so hungry," she says, though the way she says 'hungry' hints at something a bit darker in her mind, a subtle influence of her psyche.

"The boss," James says, offering Rosa a small smile. "He's a good sort. Keeps everything organized. Forward thinking man. Working to help rebuild." He gives her another look, shaking his head. His fingers move to her hair, giving her a gentle stroke. "It's going to be alright. No raiders are going to find you here," he says to her. When they get past the perimeter, Will makes a beeline up the stairs. A few minutes later another man comes down the stairs, moving to one of the tables. He looks Rosa over, flashes a grin and nods to someone. "Yep. Boss'll want to see her. Definitely need to get some food in her though. Looks like she's about to faint." There's a roll of James' eyes and he walks her to a table, helping her to a makeshift seat. There's bread, cut into small portions, along with another jug of water. "Go ahead and eat. Just, slowly," James says, compassionately.

Rosa is obedient, malleable as James leads her to her seat. She takes up a small piece of bread between her fingertips and setting it between her lips, chewing on it slowly. "Th-Thank you.." she says again, taking up the jug with both hands and tilting her head back to drink just as slowly as she ate. "Who... Is the boss?" she asks quietly, not wanting to invite the ire of the much larger men. "Will he be kind to me?"

"Yes. He's taken to calling himself Baron Urbanski," James says, with a grin for Rosa. "He's, uh. Well he likes pretty girls," he admits, with a shrug, giving her a long look and a whimsical smile. "You'll be fine," he says, patting her shoulder. After a while, Will comes back down the stairs, enough time having passed to allow Rosa to eat, drink and rest. "The boss is ready," he says. "He wants to talk to her," he says. His smirk hints at more and James gives him a quelling look. "Lets go, Owl," Will says, shaking his head at James. "Boss wants to see you." He offers her an arm, moving to lead her up the stairs.

The third floor of the skyscraper is fully enclosed, signs of repair work present. Several rooms appear to be sleeping chambers and she is led down the way to something that appears to be an audience chamber. Resting on a throne that screams Atilla the Hun is the man from Rosa's dossier, wearing a black steel circlet. He gives her a once over, nodding. "Acceptable," he says, offering her a smile and a nod to Will. "You may go," he says. With one hand, he gestures to a pillow in front of the throne. "Please. Sit. Your journey must have been exhausting. You are Owl, yes?" A young woman, rather pretty and in ornamental seeming clothes (that conceal very little) rests on a pallet, seemingly asleep.

Rosa takes Will's arm in a loose fashion as she is led up the stairs and into the throne room. The sight of Mikhail on the throne gets a smile, and she softly bats her eyelashes as she approaches him. Quietly she takes a seat on the pillow and folds her legs beneath her, her plump bottom resting beside her ankles. "Y-You're the boss?" she asks, looking up at him. "Baron Urbanski..?"

"I am in fact," the man says with a grin. "And this is Bastion. The last hope of humanity -- well, at least that we know about." He mutters something under his breath about, 'if they'd only listened'. "Welcome to our little corner of the world," he continues, flashing her a smile. "Let me guess -- raiders?" he asks her, his eyes raking across her, the smile on his lips rather pleased.

"Raiders," Rosa confirms as she rests upon the pillow, her eyes glancing over the nearby sleeping woman before returning back to Mikhail, unquestioning. "They said you would want to see me... Why?"

With a laugh, Mikhail beckons her closer, tapping the edge of his throne. "Come closer, my dear. I won't bite," he says, offering her a wink. His eyes flit towards the window and he shakes his head, before looking back to Rosa. "I wish to see every new citizen," he adds. "You were born after the collapse, weren't you," he says, eyes narrowing as he looks to her. "This city was once so lovely." He shakes his head again. "I won't hurt you, I promise."

"Tell me about the city," Rosa says as she starts to move towards Mikhail, shyly, inch by inch on her hands and knees as though she still felt he was a dangerous man. "And her... Who is she...?" She points to the other woman in the room who appears to be sound asleep.

"Berlin. That was the name of the city, pre-collapse," he says. There's a glance out the window again. "But, we'll rebuild. Better. It will be a better world," he says, nodding to himself. "Much better." A sharp, stinging pain at the back of her neck where the hornet's stinger pierces her flesh has her passing out before Mikhail can explain about the woman.

"Well done," Imad says, nodding to Rosa. "That tells me what I need to know. Berlin. That means Order. Katarina is still a concern. If it were Temple, I would have been certain. As it is... there is some doubt." His nostrils flare. "A matter for another time, miss LeBlanc. Your assistance has been most valuable." A nod is given the door. "You may go. I will be in touch."

Rosa gasps to life and clutches the back of her neck, her eyes wide for a brief moment before relaxing back in her chair. She looks at Imad, adjusting the bun atop her head with a nod. "Thank you... I look forward to finishing the story."