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Bakamono · (This post was last modified: 07-22-2011, 12:51 AM by Bakamono.)

Sarin wriggled uncomfortably in the tight fitting uniform of the Curacao Coast Guard, already missing her expensive civilian attire. The picture on her identification was, obviously, an unflattering shot: featuring the savage wound crossing her left cheek. Indeed she drew no-few stares from the disgusted few they had met on the way to the harbour. Without a mask to hide behind, she felt naked, exposed. Thankfully the team she had been assigned to were bound out to sea, in search of some executives on a Norfin hunt or Pirasharq or some fish-related-killing: so hopefully she would not have to endure the attention for long.

***

The small boat holding six Cryer operatives sped across the waves, toward the tastefully designed yacht bobbing below the horizon. Their presence betrayed by little, save its wake and the Coast guard identifiers plastered over the hull, the team quickly caught up to the yacht, waving their friendly intentions upon approach.

The first guard to meet them wore a confused smile on his face as he greeted and admitted the team. 'What's that? We gotta make port?'

'Yeah that's right, see that storm front moving in...' the disguised cryer technician pointed to the darkening skies of the east.

'Yeah I see...huh!...' the guard softly exclaimed as he was struck with a needle, and soon slumped to the deck aided by two of the apparent 'Coast guard'. The team exchanged nods and quickly split up, subduing any crew they met in a similar style.

***

Near the prow of the ship, Sarin and two of the team advanced on the fishing executive, their target for this mission. Michael Vincent Bueren: an elite member of the brokering community, and suspected long term cardamine user.

The man turned casually, his mood quickly faltering to alarm as the two cryer men closed from either side.
'What! How did you get on my Yacht?! Why are you disturbing my fishing?!'
'Relax Mister Bueren, we're doctors: trust us.'

Sarin surveyed the man, casting her gaze over him from head to toe. Nothing appeared outwardly awry: in fact even whilst taking his ease at fishing, the executive dressed in the latest Robert Geller: cutting quite the dapper figure.

Her ocular implant detected an artificial cavity within the mans' forearm. She nodded to the two technicians flanking the well-dressed man.
'So, executive Bueren, how long have you been using?'
'How dare you slattern! Do you know who I am?!' Bueren struggled futilely, his voice near cracking.
Sarin quickly stepped into his reach and immediately dragged his sleeve up. 'Open it.'
'Don't touch me you wretch! Open what?! My arm?!'
Sarin drew a small knife and quickly struck at the exposed flesh, a small piece of synthetic skin flew to the deck.
'Aaa! Crazy Whore! What the..'
His words were cut short as Sarin pointed the blade at the (now exposed) small display blinking on the mans arm.
'Open it.' Sarins repeated, a tone of impatience carried with her words.
'O christ' The well-dressed man seemed to visibly sag, as his arms were released and he tapped at the interface in his left forearm. Momentarily the technicians to either side relaxed, assuming Buerens co-operation.

A heartbeat later, Sarin stood shocked as Bueren threw a lightning right hook into the technician on his left, before propelling himself over the already falling Cryer man, toward the ships port side rail. The second standing technicians gave chase, unfolding his baton with a quick whip of his arm. Upon reaching the rail, Bueren spun around to face his armed pursuer, his face set in an uncharacteristically defiant grimace.

The technician kept his pace, taking a ugly overarm swing at Bueren. His haste cost him, as Bueren pivoted, grabbed handfuls of the technicians garb, and threw him over the rail. The sound of the technician shouting his alarm was immediately followed by a large splash. Sarin arrived near the rail, sparing a brief glance at the water and the flailing technician.

Bueren stood for a moment, his attention on the splashing cryer employee re-diverted Sarins' gaze once more. As the technician splashed and shouted, churning white spume into the air, a large spined dorsal-fin rose above the waves. A cruel smile painted Buerens face, whilst Sarin held the bridge of her nose in disappointed resignation. The beast rose just above the water-line, it's maw of spiny teeth held open to consume its prey. The first of a terrible dirge of visceral screams erupted from the technician as the shark brought its teeth down, messily tearing into flesh. The thrashing site of white water suddenly shifted to pink as gallons of blood seeped into the sea. Bueren turned to Sarin as the primal display closed.

'Fancy your chances scar-face?'
'Give it up Bueren: your men are unconscious or worse; I have three more capable men below deck. Unless you want to end up like that poor sod, come with us, we'll take good care of you I promise.'
'And what: spend a month being poked and prodded by you goons?'
'Something like that' Sarin grinned as one of the three cryer men she alluded to, crept up behind the distracted executive. 'Sweet dreams Bueren'.

The executive started to speak, before his words were cut short as the stealthy security operative shot him in the back of the neck. The small dart wobbled as the man instantly crumpled to the ground, the effects of the general anaesthetic quickly took hold. 'Nicely' said Sarin as she winked at the Cryer operative. She opened her line to their shared communications link 'Alright ladies and gents, looks like we got our catch of the day: let's clean up here, call the transport in, and get the target off-world.'

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