In reply to helbent4 (msg #248):

"I remember the comment that Brownstone wouldn't like cops in the area," Clarke said.  "This should be interesting."
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:59, Tue 30 Dec 2008.

After downing a couple shots of Kentucky's finest, Bear took the two on a tour of the building. Not the full tour, but at least enough to impress them.

They left the office by a door different than the one they came through. It led to a corridor into the rear of the building and a service elevator. Up to the roof, they looked over the machine-gun position, although they didn't stay too long in the cold drizzle.

Andy saw the building across the street where he and Tyler had set up an OP of the club, and knew that there was an unseen police sniper element somewhere there now.

"The gun works, we just don't keep 'er loaded. Not much call."

The top fourth floor were living quarters for the Angels and the girls, not to mention the office. The club only occupied the corner of the building above the intersection. It would be possible to climb up onto the roof from the building next door or somehow come in from the abandoned part of the same building. Third floor were rooms for the brothel, second was the club and bar. Ground level was a restaurant that was closed and used for storage. The rear of the ground floor was a secured area, as was the 4th floor, connected by the rear stairs and the service elevator (also in the rear). It was intended to impress upon the men how affluent the bikers were and it was impressive.

They headed back up to the bar. "Okay. You guys wait here. Brownstone will be by in an hour."

It was coming up on midnight.
This message was last edited by the GM at 05:02, Tue 30 Dec 2008.

"Mmmm nice.  If we can put a face on their number one and neutralize, that would be quite a coup."

In reply to Kelsey Sarah Champlain (msg #251):

Lee nodded in agreement.

"That was one of the problems with busting the Angels before the war. They were extremely individualistic and loosely organised on a local and regional basis. There were few recognised leaders."

"Basically, HA chapters are, or were, structured more along the lines of cells than other gangs. No one really knows or controls what goes on in a given area, having no bosses makes them hard to predict, hard to take out their top echelon leaders."

"I would be surprised if this "Brownstone" character has taken over, like a Mafia boss, especially if he's an outsider. But then again maybe things have changed?"

She sipped her coffee, thinking of the implications.

Andy made himself comfortable and waited for "Brownstone" to come. It would be good to put a name to a face and he might even be able to talk sniping with the guy, hell, if he was Canadian he might know him. Chances were however, the guy was another off-comer from the US.

At the HAZMAT (electronic intelligence) van parked outside the "forward base" at the VPD's old downtown police station, Kelsey picked up a long-range radio transmission from Brandie's.

Bear was trying to get ahold of Brownstone (located parts unknown) and not having any luck. He managed to raise 4 other stations (manned by HAs) who reported Brownstone was not around and they didn't know where he was. Kelsey determined that one signal seemed to be coming out of Coquitlam, one from Surrey/White Rock by the US border, another from central Surrey (identifed as the "Pig Farm") and the fourth from east, up in the Fraser Valley. This was important information, they already knew of the Coquitlam and White Rock HA chapters, but the second Surrey location and the chapter located in the valley were largely unknown to them, if only suspected.

Kelsey suspected from the way he was calling, that while Brownstone might be found at any one of the other locations Bear was calling, he probably also had another undetermined location that Bear was expecting him to be at, that not responding at all. Probably a separate location not at one of the club houses.

In the downtown club, Andy and Tyler waited. And waited. After a couple hours and a couple beers later, around 0100, Bear came by their table looking disappointed.

"Aw, sorry guys. Can't get him. Must be out having fun. Tell you what, come by tomorrow night and ask again. For that matter, you want to work here we can use you right away, come by any time. You know how to ride? We'll get you some real hogs underneath you!"

"So, you want to stay around for the show? Some of the chicks get it on with others or with dudes, and we also got live animals in here later, it'll fuckin' blow your mind!"

Tyler tried not to make his glances all that obvious, nor suspicious, but he knew he and his companion were starting to get very deep into this rabbit hole of deceit.  He cleared his throat, and looked at Andy, hoping the sniper would get the message, and look over at him.

If anything, he would have to give his buddy the signal that they should play it safe with these drugs, whores, and what have you being offered.

"What's this Brownstone's deal anyway?" he asked his HA host.

In reply to helbent4 (msg #254):

Kelsey digs deep into the intercepted communications, passing the intel on to Clarke as soon as she has it verified, and with thought given to better receive and track this band.  She makes sure her people know what channel/freq it is on and to spend extra attention to it.

In reply to Tyler Gabriel Hope (msg #255):

"Brownstone? Hell, I heard stuff. He must have been a Ranger or Special Forces. Fought the Sovs up in Alaska, they say he got over 150 confirmed kills, but the real number was double or more. He was too hard-core about wasting Ivan and anyone else that got in his way. He was accused of "unlawful killings" but shit! He got results! Finally he went AWOL, took out his CO. So they say."

Bear shrugged, it didn't matter to him. A dead pig was a dead pig, be it a cop or a military officer.

"Crazy sonofabitch, wierd fucking tribal tattoos all over his body, an Anarchy symbol on the back of his neck and a skull on his face... one freaky dude. Carries one of them .50 Barrett sniper rifles, kill you a mile away. All I know is don't piss him off!"

Looking like he maybe said too much, he continued, "well, ah, you want another drink? We got shit coming up on stage that'll blow your fuicking mind. We got Kandy and the snake, plus we got a real live bear... I don't want to spoil the surprise, but man, that's fucking something else!"

He winked conspiritorially.

"I hope they pull out soon.  Whoever this 'Brownstone' is, we have enough of a description to recognize him.  He seems to be a no-show and they need to get out of there."

"Well," Andy said, "if he ain't likely to show tonight, I guess it's time for us to be geting back. We'll be around again soon, so no doubt we'll see him sometime. You ready to go Tyler?"

Tyler's eyes widened at the thought of a guy rolling out with a Barret Fifty.  He smiled at the man's exploits, and gave one of those impressed frowns, complete with raised eyebrows, and an accompanying 'hmmmm' sound.

Tyler nodded to his comrade, and drummed on the table a few times.

"I sure am, buddy," he said lazily, feeling a tiny bit offish from the shot of whiskey.  "Let's make like a tree, and get the fuck outta here."

In reply to Tyler Gabriel Hope (msg #260):

Politely declining more booze and the opportunity to witness an exotic "floor show", the pair made their excuses and called it a night. They hadn't been everywhere in the building, but their trained eyes had picked up many useful details, and the wires recorded much crucial information.

As per plan, they mounted up and headed 10 blocks east to the old VPD station on the edge of the downtown, where Clarke, Lee and Kelsey were waiting with the UBC ERT/reaction team.

It was time to decide whether they would go home that night or stay in the building and go in the morning.

In reply to helbent4 (msg #261):

"I think it's time the locals knew there was a presence here.  We've made this place comfortable for ourselves, let's take advantage of it.  We'll spend the night here and go back in the morning.  We can have additional personnel relieve us in the morning.  That way, this station goes back into operation."

In reply to Andrea Clarke-Sullivan (msg #262):

Tyler and Andy were fed some hot chocolate to warm them up after their ride through the light rain. The ERT sniper team that had been providing their overwatch returned in their SUV a little after they arrived.

The team settled down for the night, bunking down in converted offices in sleeping bags. Not that comfortable, but warm and dry. And safe. Their vehicles (aside from the ones already there this included the SUV, HAZMAT van and 2 motor bikes) were parked in the large underground garage, which had been closed and secured.

Currently, aside from Clarke, Lee, Kelsey, Tyler and Andy, there was a section of 8 Militia under a Corporal and a detachment of 6 RCMP, also under a Corporal (both lightly armed and with 1 pair of NVGs to share between them). The ERT reaction team decided to decamp for UBC immediately, in case they were needed closer to home. They would remain on call in case of emergency. At the "cop shop" a night watch was maintained of 2 lookouts and someone on the radio at all times.
This message was last edited by the GM at 06:22, Sat 03 Jan 2009.

Tyler sat in the small common room as he made a little spot for himself.  He set his gear aside, and went about cleaning his rifle.  He looked up at all the police and civilian odds and ends throughout the room.  He seemed to be in a time machine of sorts, noting that most everything with a date on it was over two years old, evidence that this place had been abandoned in terms of upkeep long ago.

Tyler finished wiping down his weapon, and moved through the building until he found his companions.  He then proceeded to shoot the breeze.

"Hey there," he said to no one person in particular", got room for another?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 06:22, Sat 03 Jan 2009.

In reply to Tyler Gabriel Hope (msg #264):

Kelsey had set herself up next to an old desk, radio gear hot and in nightlight, lightly buzzing with the traffic she can pick up on low volume, another setup scanning for transmissions, main hot on the main freq.  She was cooking some hot cocoa on the stove and sitting, watching the flame.  Her bedroll layed out and looking comfy.  Dressed down to bdu pants and a t-shirt, the corporal's arms are very thickly muscled for a woman's, and tattooed in tribal design in black.  Taken apart from the woman, they could easily be the arms of a smaller and very athletic young man.  Her rifle is nearby, and sidearm still on her hip, she is idly cleaning the ammo for the pistol as she watches the flame.

"Sure bud, pull up a seat"
This message was last edited by the GM at 06:22, Sat 03 Jan 2009.

Tyler's observations on the historic nature of the building was spot on, more than he realised.

The building interiors really did look like something out of a 70's TV cop show.

This large solid building was once the VPD's main police station, and when the new VPD station building was built closer to City Hall it was still important before and during the war, used for training and administration. The adjoining building has been the City Morgue and Coroner's Court, which also contained the Vancouver Police Museum.

The police station was built when Main and Hastings had been the political heart of the city, around and just after WWII. City Hall and the main library had been nearby. Chinatown was just a few blocks over, and the bustling port a few blocks the other way.

Over time, the neighborhood (known as the Downtown East Side) had become rougher and poorer. The retail shops and dance clubs closed up, the hotels and bars' clientele declined in character. By the 70's and 80's the blocks around Main and Hastings had become a crime-ridden cesspool of despair, an open-air drug supermarket. City Hall and the main branch of the public library long moved elsewhere. The streets by the port had become a notorious hooker stroll, and Chinatown was under siege by a flood of cheap and pure heroin brought in by the Tongs that had always been the underbelly of Chinese society. The area was also the heart of the city's vibrant and short-lived punk scene, a scene that had faded away by the late 80's. By the 90's there was little to recommend the area and it was the city's shame.

During and after the evacuation of the city, this desperate neighborhood had seen more rioting and looting than anywhere else. Debris still littered the streets: the remains of burned furniture and mattresses, the skeletal remains of burned cars and buses, carpeted with broken glass from shattered windows that were never swept up.

Outside, the rain intensified until it was pounding. The roof was basically sound, but there were some drips and leaks and one area of the upper floor where a pool of water formed.
This message was last edited by the GM at 07:09, Sat 03 Jan 2009.

In reply to Kelsey Sarah Champlain (msg #265):

Tyler sat down near the woman, and smiled.  He leaned back, and slouched a bit to get comfortable, and crossed his legs at the ankles.

"This rain sucks," he said", been like this since I met you all pretty much.  Maybe you guys are bad luck."

Tyler looked over the small maintenance job he had done earlier on his weapon, and put the rifle back into his lap.  He cupped his hands over its stock, and sighed, taking in the view of the room.  The water stains, dirt, and overall lack of upkeep similar to the room from which he came.  It gave him a sense of sorrow, and depression.  Things weren't like this back on his island.

In reply to Tyler Gabriel Hope (msg #267):

Clarke got ready to bunk down herself, setting down a sleepingbag and and getting into sweats to sleep into.

"Sure, Tyler, you're welcome to stay.  You're part of the unit on a trial basis, as a liaison to your father's group."

Back at the Uni Taras just received a quick briefing from the control room of the RCMP dispatch. He didn't expect much action as the overall zeitgeist of the city was already seeping through the souls of their inhabitants.

True to be told the situation was far from normality but the character of the citizens of Vancouver or, better said, British Columbians in general, was pretty laid back. The legal and power vacuum has been already filled by certain entities that were far from desirable but certainly kept a line of work not far from that of a pre war situation. In the great picture the reconstruction program was advancing leaps and bounds as judged by the Univerisity Council or provisional  Government. Taras seriously reflected about the direction where the enterprise was going. A mixed team of military and paramilitary troops didn't seem like the right tool to proceed in the fight against the Hell's Angels. He wondered how far they could stray from the mere recce work requested by the military command. This troubled him. The Smirnoff bottled helped to spin things around while the team was working the downtown.

Shevchenko analyzed the situation. Probably too much. He remembered the times the soviet military had to deal with purely criminal activity behind the enemy lines in the Caucasus and specially in Chechnya and Ichkerya. The sheer brutality of the military command didn't left room for any serious police work and that translated in an eternal vicious circle of hate that echoed through history since the times of Shamil Basayev more than 200 years ago and what-not.

The whole purpose of the mission was certainly focusing too much in an end job task: Supressing the opposing forces to the established nomenklatura and not expanding the recconnoisance envelope towards more demanding issues like the floating Chernobyl in New Westminster or the current situation in the surrounding cities of the Lower Mainland core.

The brief from headquarters was also a game change in itself. "The Bear", if he was true to his word, could be easily talk into a fruitful cooperation and therefore rendering the whole operation against the stickmen moot. It was the Hell's Angels authority represented by this "bear" the first and foremost entity willing to get rid of "outlaws" and criminal elements and also the ones to truly acknolewledge the guilt of the "jumping ship" or "knee jerk" reaction of a fleeting government.

Then it was the outstanding description of the "Brownstone" fellow. Taras was familiar with myths and heroes. After serving hard years in a historical conflictive area like the Caucasus he came across many of them and knew how to face them at a face value. He knew about snipers. After many years as a senior Lt. in the Soviet Army he met some of them. The humble personality of calm shooters from the country side, mostly from far away locations like Siberia that WW2 or Great Patriotic War, would make famous they will never fit the description of a warlord or rather larger than life character. Same could be said of the respectable enemey that they fought. Troops that they were trained througout and professional to the last word caused tremendous damage and fright but eventually were hunted down before they could systematically terrorize the Krasnaya Armiya .

But Shevchenko also knew that myths were almost impossible to defeat in nature. In times of harshness they became the proverbial stone where to base belief and faith. He was not scared not impressed bu he was worried about the effect that such stories could have in a civial landscape void of any civial authority.

A mix of thoughts and PTSD syndrome concocted the evening for Taras. He felt lonely. Terribly lonely. The reckless rain accentuated the pain and the evanescence of the smokes and alcohol were whirling a tornado inside. The last time he checked his watch was almost midnight. He couldn't remember the last time he got a good night sleep and recurrent nightmares about the air attack back in the North kept on hammering his brain with flames, cries and charred memories. He tried to get a hold of the female reporter. The red headed girl that gave him a crush a week ago but he could not contact her.

Taras went to the toilet. He spent almost half an hour seating in the porcelain observing the surroundings. Mostly obscene drawings from students and funny occurrences. One of them even brought a smile. "GOD IS DEAD" stated a red marker sentence in capital letters only to be seconded by a blue pen scribbled "Don't worry. Mary is pregnant again".

What appeared a tremendous effort only tranlated into a few pellets down the can and Taras headed for his room. On his way and without any cause he punched the feeble drywall leaving a telltale scar in the form and size of a fist. He realized what he did only to have a couple of tears doen his once rosy cheeks. He looked left and right but nobody was to be found. After washing his face in the sink and barely brushing his teeth he quickly removed his uniform and went to sleep.

The rain was pounding outside. In the window, a persistent drumming of water and wind prevented Taras from falling into the arms of Morfeo.

"Welcome to the Pacific Northwest.  It rains here.  A lot.  At least we don't have droughts."

She relaxes back, regarding him levelly, seemingly comfortable next to the stove, with her hot cocoa in hand.  Truly, likely she was, having been pretty much in the field since the war began, comforts such as this, even if below expectations of others like Tyler, were small treasures to her.

Andy finished his coca quietly, much happier with this than the white stuff he'd been offered earlier. The sound of the rain was comforting, lulling him into a sense of peace. Before turning in he feild stripped and cleaned his weapons and did a thorough check on his equipment.

Just as he was about to turn in, he turned to Commander Clarke and said, "Ma'am, when we were on the OP, if Bear had insisted we take the drugs, I would have, I thought about it and wondered what position we'd be in. If we had to commit a crime as a part of our duties in order to protect our own cover identities and lives, would we be able to argue neccessity? Duress would be out, but what would the authorities view be?"

In reply to Andrew Montgomery McRae (msg #271):

"The Crown would almost never press charges.  You are doing what you have to do to protect your security and your lives.  I think you handled it pretty well, though.  You showed a willingness to go through with it but made it clear that you were not comfortable with what they asked you to do.  I think that honesty is what got you out unscathed.  They really don't want you compromised in a way that could make it difficult for you to operate.  Keep that in mind when you deal with them."

In reply to Andrew Montgomery McRae (msg #271):

"I guess I should clarify, having done some undercover work. Commander Clarke is correct. Basically, almost anything goes as long as you don't kill anyone in cold blood. You can't make a narcotics bust without sampling and buying product. Sometimes you have to break into a car, even steal one, and so on. The Crown will leave it to your better judgement and take that into account."