|
Post by Heikki Toivonen on Mar 2, 2005 15:36:37 GMT -5
Heikki is seated by Mikhael, but no one seems to take Mikhael seriously. Everyone is too busy searching the area for those involved with the attack to really care that Mischa was kicked by a rude Finnish tourist. "See, they don't care. They have more important things to care about than your pride."
|
|
|
Post by Peter G. Nielsen on Mar 2, 2005 15:50:10 GMT -5
Trent, his security close behind him, steps out of the elevator and walks across the lobby. He tips the doorman on his way out and steps into the perfectly timed limo that pulls up outfront.
Peter closes the copy of the Times he's been reading and stands up. He hadn't had to wait long at all. He moves quickly up the stairs to Trent's floor. Now that Trent is gone the door is clear.
Glancing around Peter takes a small screw driver out of his pocket and kneels by the door. If he'd known he'd have to break into a modern hotel room he'd have made sure to get one of those cool card code things from Deepthroat before he shipped out yesterday. Still, he'd make due with what he had.
Fifteen minutes of focused work (and a stroke of luck that no one else entered the hallway while he was working) and Peter had the metal case off of the card reader. A little cross wiring and the electronic device popped the door open. He was in.
Peter replaces the plate and slides into the room, checking his gloves for any holes as he does. A hotel this modern would keep records of the key scans on each room so if anyone looked up the records they would be able to find out someone had entered when Trent was away.
Peter would have to make sure there was no reason for anyone to check the records. That ment a soft search. He moves into the hotel room, reflecting on the size of the place of a moment. He had a pretty decent apartment and it wasn't half the size of this place. Peter sets his thoughts aside and begins his search, taking note of everything's placement in the room. Any disturbance to an object's placement was a potential sign of wrong doing. If he screwed up and if Trent's security was good enough, they'd be able to figure out someone had been here.
|
|
|
Post by Valodya Bassarov on Mar 2, 2005 16:46:25 GMT -5
The train rolls along, past flat lands with ugly brown trees and impoverished villages of small shacks.
"I used to think that these homes were ugly. Looking out my window, seeing the landscape of poverty pass by as we roll along the tracks, I do not feel disgust. There is a beauty in less. I would rather live in one of those shacks than in a mansion. A mansion is ugly. Wealth is ugly. These days, whenever I see wealth, I break it down into human labor and the waste of natural resources. A mansion with its fine tudor designer furnishings, is ugly. It is the ugliest thing in the world." Bassarov remarks to his new found traveling partner.
"But then, those people in shacks suffer from not having enough.... there is no beauty in the sufferings of those who should have more, but do not, because some refuse to have less."
|
|
|
Post by alex on Mar 2, 2005 17:18:46 GMT -5
Alexanders plane landed and he enterd his Yukon he had at his hanger. He would need the Four Wheel Drive to get out to the oil field.
Twenty Minutes later he was on his way out to the field to have the meeting.
4 Hours later he walked out of the office, and enterd his car. He headed into town to find a bar. He needed somthing to drink. On his way, he drove alongside a train. He looked over at it and smiled. Trains were intresting things he thought.
Bassarov, would you like somthing to happen, then we can RP?
|
|
|
Post by Valodya Bassarov on Mar 2, 2005 17:28:01 GMT -5
Bassarov looks out the window and sees some large SUV driving along. It stands out against the backdrop of gray houses.
"See, THAT is ugly. I look at that and see people laboring and resources spent." Bassarov comments.
The train stops at a station. They are still a few hours from Moscow.
(I'm on the way to a socialist meeting but if you want to board the train at its stop you can)
|
|
|
Post by alex on Mar 2, 2005 17:43:22 GMT -5
Alexander decides to go for a train ride. He doesent have anything going on today. So what the heck?
He slams on the breaks and turns down an alley, that leads to a main road. He then turns out, and pulls into the train station.
5 minutes later. He gets his ticket and boards the train. He sits down in a seat across from two men.
|
|
|
Post by Valodya Bassarov on Mar 2, 2005 17:45:52 GMT -5
Bassarov looks at the man wearing a suit and really isn't sure how to react. Sure, Bassarov likes to dress up, but this guy seems to exude capitalism.
"Hello sir, going to Moscow as well?" He asks.
|
|
|
Post by alex on Mar 2, 2005 17:50:50 GMT -5
He trusn sideways in his seat and looks at the man who is talking to him. Ah, yes. I guess thats where this train is going. Nah. I'm just going there for a train ride. I have nothing else to do today. Figured I'd go there and have some lunch. The trian lurcherd forward and began its journey.
|
|
|
Post by Valodya Bassarov on Mar 2, 2005 17:53:48 GMT -5
"Oh, I see, you're just going for a ride. Well, it is a pleasant day for that. So...what to do you do?..Besides ride trains that is..."
|
|
|
Post by alex on Mar 2, 2005 17:57:14 GMT -5
Alexander laughed lightly. Funny one Indeed. I own Oil Fields, and gasoline producers. I live in London.
|
|
|
Post by Valodya Bassarov on Mar 2, 2005 17:58:50 GMT -5
"That's nice. Ahem..." Bassarov covers his mouth and turns to Erich.
"We're socialist revolutionaries."
|
|
|
Post by alex on Mar 2, 2005 18:01:21 GMT -5
Alex had a fake smile on his face. How nice. How nice indeed. He pulled out his wallet and checked his cards. Then he put it back in his pocket. So what are you going to Moscow for?
|
|
|
Post by Mikhael Nadyezhda Kirsanov on Mar 2, 2005 18:04:06 GMT -5
The police station is overflowing with people who look like they were just pulled off the streets. Most of them looked homeless. I pull out a knife, and cut the plastic wire connecting Heikki's hands, then stand up.
"I have no reason to stay here anymore. They're going to question you, so stay put." I say, noticing that the corner of my mouth is bleeding. Without waiting for his response, I leave. They aren't really going to question him, I just didn't want to leave with him.
I get back in the car, and start to drive back to the barracks.
|
|
|
Post by Valodya Bassarov on Mar 2, 2005 18:04:42 GMT -5
"I'm not at liberty to tell you that, sir. This is not a favourable time for socialists." Bassarov replies.
|
|
|
Post by alex on Mar 2, 2005 18:07:32 GMT -5
Ah, well. Indeed then. He coughs. He knew this was going to be a long train ride with a socialist next to him. So he pulled out his newspaper, and put on his glasses. He then looked over it. Looks like they are ending the sport of Football in the USA.... He kept reading. I dident enjoy football when i played it.
|
|