V.W.A.T. Director's Office (Fort Belvoir, Virginia)

Description: Nothing too showy. A large mahogany desk sits in the middle of the windowless room, a desktop computer resting on the right side with keyboard and mouse. Stacks of paper sit on the left next to a pen holder. A cushioned rolling chair is behind it. The floor is white tile and kept shining. In the back of the room are two bookcases on the back wall, the right side hiding a passage out of the office in case of emergency.

News had just come in that his new recruits had just arrived. Tapping the edge of a few papers against the desk, the Director stood up to meet these men. Pulling his tie tighter, he heard a knock on the door; his attendant informing him they had the criminals there. "Send them in," he said.

Inn <---

Feeling himself thrust into a room, the Executioner could make no sense of the situation. They'd been taken and blindfolded and apparently flown somewhere after the armed men broke up their fight. Judging by voices, they were probably somewhere in the United States again. Something clasped around his neck before the blindfold was removed. He noticed it was a collar, noticing after that two guards had their guns pointed at his head and that some well dressed giant stood before him. "What do you want?" he quite literally spat, dropping a loogie onto the floor as a petty form of rebellion.

From the inn<----

They seemed to have patched him up rather nicely. His bullet wound was stitched up rather well and they had even fixed the one bullet hole on his side. They recovered his things and returned all but his weapons to him. He was led down the hallway, not blindfolded but he did have a small collar tightly clasped at his neck.

Upon entry of the office, her looked quickly over to a corner of the room as if he had seen something. The guards promptly fell for it, in turn he handcuffed a couple of them together before appearing in a chair right next to The Executioner. "I think you should train your guards better sir," he stated rather innocently and factually.

===>The Inn

Still very much unconscious, Ladd was effectively dragged down the hallway to the Office. The vast majority of his life he'd managed to conquer his way through pain and not fall victim to unconsciousness. Now, he'd blacked out twice due to electrocution. Damn bat freak, damn military types with their fancy toys taking advantage of automatic reactions he couldn't do a damn thing about. It was the sudden thump of being dropped to the floor that finally awoke the Chicago mobster. Blinking his eyes to clear the fog, he quickly spied The Executioner as well as that Teatime guy nearby, not to mention several of the assholes that had tazed him with a damn riot cannon. Growling, he slowly rose to his feet and pulled his arms to his sides, to his surprise each wrist was sporting one end of a handcuff. Evidently these bastards had underestimated his strength. "Pansy ass bastards don't have the guts to get the job done the old fashioned way eh?" he said, balling his hands into fists. Without hesitation, the nearest guard leveled his weapon at Russo's head, the muzzel uncomfortably close to his head. Turning his head slowly, Ladd smiled broadly before biting down on the gun barrel. Flexing his jaw, his unnaturaly strength warped the metal, bending the muzzel 90 degrees towards the old man in the suit and pressing an impression of some of his molars into the steel. "I don't like you people but I do happen to like killing...alot. Now tell me what this is about before I decide to start tapdancing on your heads like I'm goddamn Bojangles!"

All three of these men had been as rowdy as expected. Rather than explaining himself, as the mobster had demanded, he decided to show them. Taking a remote from his pocket, he pushed three dials upwards to the number 3, Ladd's to 5. With the collars on all three of them, that should deliver more than enough shock to bring them to their knees, even the large one.

"Gentlemen, I believe we understand each other now; you have no power here. Try to resist my will and you will die. All three of you are wanted criminals. If the police had arrested you, you'd no doubt be sent to prison for execution. But we're not the police." He paused, advancing towards the men. "I'm offering you all a chance to serve this country in a way only scum like you can. This is V.W.A.T., and we fight monsters."

The Executioner fell to the floor, writhing in pain as the electricity surged through his body. Scowling as he listened to the man in the suit, he had no real intentions of going along with his little plan. Even the prospect of "fighting monsters" wasn't going to get him on board this time. "Why should I help you, Sparky the Skeleton?" he growled.

As the electricity began to slow, Teatime grasped the collar and gasped as he shuttered and slid out of the chair. This was the time to play the politics card. As the electricity ended, he looked up at the Director and began to speak immediately.

"You misunderstand this situation sir. You smuggled me into your country, kidnapped me from mine. You do this for no reason under your law considering I may or may not be a criminal in mine. I assure you, tormenting me isn't the best option considering the people I have tracking me daily." He gave the Director a smile as his only functioning eye got larger and his pupil shrunk as he focused. "I might be able to work for you, but the collar comes off. I am sure we can make an arrangement. Otherwise, even if you kill me, you can't cover up a large scale public revelation or one of my associates revealing you on the internet. I hear you can put anything on that Wikipedia these days. Who's to say they don't hear and see everything we do?" His factual and very stern voice made it extremely hard to tell he was bluffing.

Ah crap. was all Ladd had time to think before he was on his knees again, electricity robbing him of moto ccontrol. The damn shocks were really begining to grate on the mobster's nerves. When the pain finally stopped, he took a moment to catch his breath and smile. Slowly he rose to his feet once more and slid his hands into his pockets. His smile broadening, he took a step towards Steeler, drawing the attention of the guards once more but as he'd yet to beome violent, they stayed their hands. "I know yer type old man. Oh yea, reminds me of my uncle. Old fat guy with a bunch a mooks on his payroll. 'Look at how powerful I am! Nobody will ever be able to hurt me! I'm invincible!'" Ladd exclaimed, spinning on his heel in a full circle as he immitated his late uncle's gravely voice. "But I'll tell ya right now mac, nothing get's me more jazzed than teaching you bastards just how vulnerable you really are. So the second I figure out how to rip off this collar around my neck, I'm snapping yours."

(OOC) Hit permitted.

The defiance here was palpable. Meeting the mobster's challenge, the Director took his free hand and punched him in the solar plexus. From his readings, he realized this would do minimal damage, though it was more to prove a point than anything. Cracking his wrist back and forth, ignoring the pain he'd just taken, he turned the collars off completely, the guards becoming even more attentive. "You think I really need these collars to beat you? I'm a lot tougher than any of you shits. If I had it my way, I'd be out there ripping the beasts in half myself, but I can't be in more than one place at a time. That's why I'm offering people like you a chance to do something of worth in your pathetic, blood-stained lives. Whether you accept or not, it doesn't matter; you'll either end up in a cell or in some landfill."

He turned to Teatime now, drawing his unearthly large gun, pointing it at the man's head. "And as for you, I don't care who your friends are or what they do with any information they've gotten here. You think anyone can prove what's going on here? This is America, son; they've already spent billions of dollars hiding this place in plain sight. All your little friends would be doing is adding yet another conspiracy theory to the thousands." He cared little for what the man said. Real or not, his associates had nothing that would actually implicate the United States government in any of this. For all the public knew, Steeler was just an old man sitting at home all these years. His involvement in this would be unlikely, to say the least. He pulled the hammer back, not really intending to fire it, but simply for the effect it would have. "If you'd really like to push your luck, be my guest."

He had to admit, the old man was impressive. Not too many would even dare to hit Ladd, and it didn't even seem to faze him; considering the man was a the equivalent of a truck, the fossil must be tougher than he looked. Cracking a smile at his threats towards the one-eyed freak, he was even more entertained at the fact he was planning to try and shoot a gun like that with one hand. Experience showed he wasn't really planning to -not if he had any sense, at least- but there was no reason for the others to know that. Either way, those guards could handle the slack. When he really thought about it, all he'd have to do is kill people. Even though he'd made a commitment not to fight for anyone but himself again, the situation right now wasn't really lending itself to free-thinking. "I guess killing for you people wouldn't be so bad for now. Not like I'm doing anything important."

"A large gun for a large man, surely you must be overcompensating. I don't fear death, I, in fact have spent time planning how to kill him. If you think that pointing a gun at me makes me afraid, you are sadly wrong." He looked at the Director with his good eye, readying himself to dodge in case the man wanted to pistol whip him. "Now, what do you have to offer me? My life isn't worth much, but my skills are. It would be such a terrible business decisions to kill me, but if you want, I am right here." He then pressed his forehead against the large gun in defiance.

Hands still in his pockets, Ladd didn't bother trying to defend against the old man's punch. Much to his surprise, the old fist had a fair bit of weight to it. It actually stung a bit, it wasn't often that a punch was able to do that to a beast of Ladd's caliber. Thinking the offer over, he couldn't help but chuckle at history repeating itself. Just like with his late uncle, Ladd was once again being given a free oppurtunity to do what he loved most while protected from the law. What's more, the protection this shock collar afforded the old man was far greater than the familial loyalties the late Russo had relied on. More safety meant more arrogance and more arrogance meant all the more fun when Ladd finally got his shot at him. "Hmpf, yer no light weight, I'll give ya that. Tell ya what old man, I'm in on two conditions. You have yer little bitch boys keep any heat off my guys back in Chicago and ya take care of my tailor bills." Pulling out the remaining seat, Ladd flopped into it and casually crossed one leg over the other. "You do that and I'll kill anybody ya want with a bigger smile then that freaky cat from Wonderland."

"Like all of our soldiers, you're allowed the freedom to do as you please, as long as you follow my orders. Your conditions will far exceed any prison you've ever been in. Anything we approve that you believe is 'necessary'," he made sure to air quote that part, showing they did have some freedom in here. "...Will be provided for you." The fact he was negotiating said that the Teatime character was on board, as well.

Holstering his gun, he addressed Ladd's request next. "We'll see what we can do about your family. Your clothes should be covered." Returning to his chair, he sat for a moment to collect his thoughts. "Unless any of you have anything else you'd like to say, the guards will escort you to your room. In two days time, you will be briefed on your first mission together."

Not having much else to say, he allowed himself to be led out of the room by the guards. He was plotting, but he wasn't entirely sure what yet. Escape? Rebellion? Murder? He'd have plenty of time to think.

Teatime heard the word "anything", he simply nodded to show he was in. HE then spun on his heel and followed The Executioner out.

Smirking happily, Ladd gave the director a quick wink before heading out after his two cohorts. He'd have his chance at the old man soon enough. In the meantime, a comfy bed, decent meal, and new set of clothes would be an acceptable diversion before he was ready to cover his hands in blood and bruises again.

=====> Exit

>>>> Exit

<<< Enter from Wall street Mission

Teatime would inevitably get out of the van and make his way swiftly past his cohorts and the guards before making swift twists and turns behind things and vanishing from sight. He would occasionally be picked up on cameras as a blur, but inevitably it was difficult to keep track of where he was.

Teatime would wait until the director was distracted with paperwork or looking out of a window... any opportunity he wasn't paying attention before a semi silent swoosh could be heard by a keen ear and Teatime appeared in a chair, looking expectantly at the man without saying a word. It is even possible he could go unnoticed until the others arrived, but that paranoia of being watched usually counts for something, even with bad hearing.

As quiet as the man tried to be, he couldn't fool the Director. Years of fighting in the jungle had attuned him to even the tiniest of noises. "Try that again and you get a bullet in your head," he threatened, still signing and organizing a few papers. "When the rest are here, I'll tell you what we're going to do next. And for your information, your collar tracks your location at all time; don't bother trying to hide around here." He buzzed a guard, pointing to Teatime as the man entered the room. He was going to relieve of him of his weapons and scan him for anything else; standard procedure for a group composed of murderers.

(OOC) Sorry it took so long. Having trouble thinking of what to post lately.

Teatime would seem completely unmoving until the guard came into range and began to disarm him. He would take him hostage, placing him in an armlock while he twisted the gun out of his hand. He would quickly draw a magnum and place it at his own temple as he places his head next to the guard's.

"Move and you are dead, put your hand on that collar doo-hicky, and we both die. I am already sick and tired of you treating my like a slave and talking to me without any respect. You made a grave error here, thinking I was scared of death. Now, we are going to negotiate or both this innocent gentleman here and I are going to visit Satan and win a one way trip to hell."

"How about we agree that I don't need this collar and I will work for you as an employee, with benefits, including dental, then we can get down to real business. That show at Wall Street was not but a percentage of what I can do."

"Buuut... if you don't want me to help you...." he said as he tightened his finger on the Magnum's tiger.

The guard sighed; how many times had this happened in the past? At least four, he thought to himself. The first two times he'd panicked, but he'd been spared each. Now, he barely even cared. He had no family to speak of, meaning his death would be mostly inconsequential. Even if he must die, at least this crazy person would go down with him.

The director shared a similar apathy, casually drawing his gun and holding it with both hands, pointing it to Teatime's chest, both to increase the odds of wounding him and to account for the massive recoil of the weapon. "Since you're not from this place, I'll explain this to you: I'm American, and we don't negotiate with terrorists. Go ahead and die; the entire reason we use criminals is because you're expendable. I can have three more just like you by tomorrow afternoon, at the latest." More guards would be coming any time now, escorting the other two in. If this hadn't resolved by then, it would at that point. If Teatime were to react in any way that seemed hostile or an attempt to escape, a bullet would come rocketing from the barrel of the over sized handgun, probably more towards his head and neck from the kick. Though loosing both a soldier and criminal would be...inconvenient, he had no trouble replacing both if he had to.

=====> New York

From down the hall a soft tapping could be heard. Faint at first, but growing steadily as the source approached. Finally becoming recognizable as footsteps, an odd dragging sound seemed to accompany them. Closer and closer the sounds came until they paused just outside the Director's office. A pale hand reached around the edge of the doorway and was soon accompanied by the jovial smile of Ladd Russo himself. Grinning happily at the Director, the mobster didn't seem all that taken aback by the situation he'd walked in on. If anything, it was damn funny. Stepping into the office, Ladd dropped the unconscious guard he'd been dragging down the hall onto the cold floor. "Hey geezer! I ain't gonna lie, I had a helluva good time back there in New York. Buuuut..." Ladd trailed off, giving the unconscious guard a light kick. "These bastards ya keep around still piss me off. 'You need to come with me. I'm well armed and in control. Nothing bad will ever happen to me!' It's like he WANTED me to kill him!" Raising his foot, Ladd set it down on the guard's throat, preparing to crush it at a moment's notice. "Tell me ya got another playground for me or I'll help bright eyes over there turn this place into one right here, right now!" Strangely enough, though energy and excitement coursed through Ladd's body, there wasn't much anger to be found. Still riding the high of his last mission, Russo seemed genuinely content with himself. Whether or not that would hold true for the next five minutes was another matter.

The last of the three walked into the room, having been patched up rather quickly. He'd joined Ladd in taking down his guard, keeping his weapons on him. Upon entering, he drew his gun, pointing to Steeler. We're really doing this shit? Fine; someone point at me." Not entirely sure of what was happening, but never one to pass up the opportunity to imitate movie clichés, the Executioner shrugged his shoulder at Ladd, meaning for him to pull a gun on him now. "We going to do this after every mission? Because, honestly, that would be kind of fun."

Teatime positioned the man in front on him and put his neck to the point where a mere quick twist would kill him as he aimed the gun for Steeler's chest. He simultaneously managed to back himself up to a window.

"I am afraid that noone could replace myself, or from what I have seen Mr. Russo or the mummy there. Thirty vampires? What is my compensation? Being talked down to and threatened? I may be highly dangerous sir, but I am not a criminal or terrorist by any means. I merely do what you do and threaten life. Now, here again, I ask you, can we work together without the dog collars? Can we get along and you pay me for my time killing the supernatural, or would you prefer it end here?"

Teatime was ready for a no, quite prepared. So much so, he had his magnum gripped to where if the Director even seemed like he would say no, he was going to immediately begin emptying his clip along with breaking his hostage's neck. But if he said yes, Teatime would remain firm until they talked it out. That window looked mighty high off the ground, surely that would be a fun fall.

"You don't seem to get it, son." Steeler paused to allow a group of ten, heavily armed guards down the hall push through the other criminals their sights spread between all three. "Everyone and everything here is expendable: You are, they are, even I am. I gave you a chance to do some good, to have luxury beyond what you deserve, but that just wasn't good enough for you. All it takes is one spoiled brat to ruin it for everyone else."

Three of the guards moved in closer, prepared to contain the situation. The one in Teatime's arms he'd lost focus on swung his head back, both to free himself and to try and break the freak's nose for keeping him past the end of his shift. It was steak night at his house and he'd already gotten the propane tank filled earlier that day. All the while, Steeler stood idly by. He had no intention of wasting a bullet on this scum, though that isn't to say he wouldn't if he had to. While his talents were obviously quite helpful, he was quickly proving to be more trouble than he was worth. Like a mad dog, it might just be time to put him down.

Chuckling at the Executioner's proposition, Ladd casually pointed his beloved shotgun Blasty at the mummified gunslinger. Holding the weapon with one hand, the gun was pointed at the killer's temple but Ladd had his attention on Steeler and Teatime. He let out an impressed whistle at the verbal exchange, enjoying it as much as a normal person would enjoy a cheesy action movie. "Damn. Couple a stubborn bastards ain't they? I got ten bucks that says Teatime'll shoot first." he said, prodding back at the Executioner to try and incite a bet. No sooner had he proposed the idea, Steeler's additional goons poured into the room and aimed their fancy military guns at his nice bloodied suit. "Scratch that. Fifty bucks says Tea shoots first." Not sparing the guards a second glance, Russo smiled and collectively gave them the middle finger. "The rest of you bitches can go screw yourselves by the way." And just like that, the mobster had verbally dismissed the guards, unwilling to let them distract him from the far more interesting show before him.

"Don't know about that one," he said in response to who might shoot first. "The freak is crazy, but the old man has balls." As the guards arrived, he just sighed. "You guys want to join, too? Fine: Find someone to point a gun at until everyone's got a barrel in their face." Only one guard complied to this, quickly getting punched in the arm by another, straightening him up. "On second thought, I'll take that bet. One-Eye's about to get it; I can feel it." Fifty dollars could be a fun afternoon drinking; more than worth the risk of failure. No matter the outcome, it was a win for the Executioner; he hated both those men.

Teatime was calm as normal, but obviously he was outgunned. Who fucking cared about that though, ten people? He just helped take out thirty Vampires... but time and place. "You really are a terrible boss, you know that, refusing to listen to your employees at all. I heard America was all about freedom, yet here I sit with a collar on me like a slave back in the days before the Civil War. You speak about America, but yet here I am being stripped of any due process."

The headbutt came as a bit of a surprise to him, he thought he had him in a good grip, but Teatime stumbled back and gave a snort before emptying his clip into the former hostage. It may not kill him, but he sure will be hurting if any of those hit and spew Mercury into him. "Now I am a criminal in your country, now you can send me to the justice system," then Teatime did something he never did... curse, "you sniveling piece of shit, punk ass American Cunt who can't even read his own God damned treacherous document."

Teatime dropped the empty gun on the floor and kicked it over to the nearest guard before raising his left hand in the air as his right went to his now bleeding nose. "I am joining a Labor Union after this bull shit."

This ordeal was finally over, a holstering of the gun as proof. For someone so knowledgeable with American politics, he should know Executive Order can trump the law, as long as the Supreme Court didn't exactly notice. Why bother justifying himself to a criminal, though? "All three of them, out of my sight," he demanded, guards closing around the trio to lead them away. He buzzed his secretary, "Someone get a cleaner in here."

That man had been...well, not much of anything to the director, honestly. As far as he knew, no one really cared about his existence. He'd see what he could do in terms of restitution for anyone who might come knocking, though, just to avoid an annoyance. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he sat back in his chair to contemplate the next move. These felons were turning out to be more trouble than they were worth.

Sulking at the way things had played out, Ladd silently cursed over the fact that both Teatime and Steeler were still alive. A double kill might have been too much to hope for but neither of them were even all that hurt for God's sake. The mobster scowled and rested his shotgun over his shoulder, his free hand tucked into his pocket before turning to leave the room. There was no more fun to be had here for the moment anyway. Leaving his initial guard sprawled across the floor still unconscious, Russo exited the room flanked by guards, grumbling all the way. However, he'd barely made it ten steps down the hall way before a bulb went off in his head and skipped back into the room, a guard desperately holding onto his waist to try and stop him. Obviously, the guard's attempts were fruitless as Ladd happily re-entered the room only to hop into the air before bringing both his heels down on the unconscious guard's head. His skull was crushed instantly, grey matter, blood, and bone chips flying across the room towards Steeler. Though the guard was no more, Russo continued jumping up and down on his body, again and again driving his feet into the crimson lump of ruined meat and gore. The guard around Ladd's waist was quickly thrown off in the chaos of the dance and Ladd finally settled down, sighing contently. Smiling, Ladd pantomimed an uppercut with his left arm, using his right hand to smack his left bicep in a silent "fuck you" gesture. And just like that, Ladd turned and exited the room again to find entertainment in parts unknown.

Ushered out of the room, the Executioner didn't bother to watch to see what Ladd did. Hopefully, he'd be far enough away to skip out on their bet. From the sounds coming from the room, his friend probably killed another guy. He didn't resist when hs weapons were lifted from him; he was done fighting for the day, mostly because he was hungry and had to take a piss. They took him down a corridor, planning to throw him in a cell.

---> Room

Teatime looks at the director for a moment, that cold glass eye peering into his soul, before walking calmly to take a seat again in a chair. "Perhaps it is time for a heart to heart."

Teatime then signals over a guard and begins to place gun after gun, after knife, after knife, after gun, only leaving his baby strapped to his boot, in the guard's possession be it laying it at his feet or in his arms.

"I would like to discuss the next mission. Obviously I am not one to keep idle."

The director sighed. A couple guards walked from the room to take the multitude of weapons down to storage. "I'll conference with all of you, so you can wait. I don't feel like repeating myself. We're still in the process of interrogating that vampire you captured, so there's not much to say right now, anyway." He motioned for the guards to begin taking the man to his cell. "You three will be contacted when the prisoner breaks. Until then, I now have a great deal of paperwork to do, due to the recent injury and death of my employees." He was fed up with these men already. A stack of boring paperwork to sort through to take his mind off this incident.

"Might I suggest taking off his face? Maybe an eye or two? Trap him in a room with me... guarantee I can get that information for you sir... with due elegance."

With that he stood and went with the officers. "The offer stands firm."


>>>> Cell

(OOC) Just give me a heads up whenever you guys want to start another mission.

(OOC: Either that or I'm just gonna give Director a heads up that I'm going vampire hunting.)

OOC: I'm good to go whenever.

(OOC) I'll call you guys in, then.

It had been a few days since the mission. He figured the criminals were getting restless; they'd need something to occupy themselves with. Luckily, the vampire broke. He'd told of the group he worked for, how they had a command center in Chicago, how he'd cheated on a math test in third grade; everything they needed to know. He pressed a button on the speaker. "Send them up. We've got a mission." With any luck, they'd be able to take down the whole lot of these "freedom fighters" in one stroke. Anyone left would just disperse and become regular targets. He was concerned, though: Could three men really bring down a whole nest of vampires? Maybe it was time to send him out with them.

Teatime was quick to respond, seemingly waltzing in the shadows on the way in, nodding to the guard as he opened the door. He stopped to tell him politely to send in his things before shifting inward and sitting in a chair, eyeing the director with his only eye silently.

===>Entrance

Stifling a yawn, the mobster entered the room without much fuss. He'd just enjoyed a nice mean in the city so his spirits were quite high. What's more, the fact that Steeler was calling him in could only mean another job and that meant more killing. It was becoming quite the interesting day alright. Sitting down on the edge of the Director's desk, Ladd made a light gesture similar to a nod to acknowledge Steeler's existence before cleaning his prized shotgun. Old Blasty had gotten some use recently and needed a good rub down. Running the rag down the hexagonal barrel, Russo was able to entertain himself in the mundane maintenance task. At least until his colleagues arrived that is.

(OOC) Damn, you guys are fast.

Not far behind, the Executioner shook off a guard who tried to pat him for weapons. Not that he was carrying any, but so what if he had them? He was the only who hadn't killed someone in the building yet. Upon entering, he stood in the corner, prepared to learn what their next task would be. Hopefully, it involved vampires again. He needed to pay them back for his injuries last time; he was still healing up from that. "What's the deal this time, old man?" he questioned Steeler.

They were all here now. "'The deal' is that we've found where the rest of the vampires are hiding." He snapped his fingers twice, a guard running in with a projector over his shoulder. Turning it on, it displayed an image of a grainy photo of what appeared to be numerous vampires. "The vampires you fought before were all part of a liberation front. Their goal is to replace humans as the dominant species on the planet. Clearly, we have a few problems with that." He snapped again, another, similar photo appearing. "These photos were found on the cell phone the one you captured carried. We learned that their headquarters is located somewhere in Chicago, Illinois. You're going to go there and exterminate them." He turned to Ladd. "And off the desk. It's mahogany."

He got up and motioned for the guard with the projector to leave. "From those photos alone, we can expect numbers in the hundreds, if not thousands. Because of this, I'm sending another with you. Honestly, I'm expecting at least one, if not all of you, to die in there. I'd recommend proving me wrong." He wasn't sure whether their newest member was prepared to be deployed yet, but he was willing to risk it for something like this. Even if they did fail at their mission, any decrease in numbers would make it easier for the next batch of recruits to go in and finish up.

Teatime was quite interested in this. He stood and started pacing behind the chairs lined in front of Steeler's desk before he took out his knife and started sawing off his curls in a fit of madness. "I'll need false fangs and some bombs. I'll infiltrate the place and plant them while these two cause ruckus on the first floor, or they can join me planting them. I'll take out the main structures and bring the building down on top of them. That or they could be up in helicopters ready to gun down any survivors."

He grabbed another large strand and began to cut it as well. "How soon before you could replace this eye with a camera?" he asked, refering to his glass eye as he grabbed another strand and sliced it off, now going at a quick effortless pace until his hair was a mess of golden spikes, making him look like a punk. "I also need black dye and maybe some grenades. THey might need some real guns... bazookas if you have them."

Walking into Steeler’s office Jaime smiled, it was a nice place and told him that the man he was about to speak to for the first time after waking up fully was tough. He took everything in and eyed up the prisoners that were waiting for their missions. They seemed like a sorry bunch but he could get along if they weren’t utter idiots; he smiled at the man that paced up and down cutting out his own hair. So far they seemed a funny little bunch; he grinned giving off his best smile.” So yer Direc’or Steeler then Sir?” he said nodding to the old-ish man. He kept his tone respectful but not to the point of being that of a boot licker, he was British and he had pride. He noticed the mummy and the Mobster next, looking at them both he flexed his fingers. “So, I’ve spoken to some of the guards and I think I know who you’re” he said to the mobster, his grin grew slightly wider “Ladd Russo, assassin of the Russo family.” He wasn’t interested much in the rest for the moment, this guy had killed guards. So he was going to make sure he had a fist in his face before that happened again, he leant against the wall. “I’m Jaime Sheffield, I might as well let the Dire’tor here introduce me properly” he left it at that, they would learn what he was about soon enough. But for now he would wait and see what happened.

Still cleaning his gun as Teatime described his plan, Ladd shrugged his shoulders at Steeler's instructions and was in all honesty about to get off the desk until Teatime mention the last bit about "real guns". Eyes wide with giddy, Ladd hopped on top of the desk, trampling papers here and there underfoot in the excitement. "Bazookas! Haha! This is gonna be more fun than the last Mayweather fight!" Spinning around in a small circle, Ladd paused as a new man entered the room. This new freak job seemed to know him, or at the very least know of him. Smirking, Ladd hopped down from the desk and rested Blasty over one shoulder. "Well well, word get's around pretty quick around here eh? I suppose it's only right fer ya to know my name. Chances are I'm gonna wind up killing ya sooner er later anyway. If anything, you shoulda crawled in here on yer hands and knees, GRATEFUL to be killed by me!" Ladd seemed to grow with each passing word, his broad form lurching closer and closer to the new guy, muscles in his arms tensing as he tightly curled his open hand into a fist. And just like that it was gone, blood lust drained from his body and a content smile adorning his square features. "But there'll be time fer that later."

The old man must think they're a bunch of suicides if he really thought the three of them could take out 1000 vampires. Though, as the one-eyed freak explained his plan, it did seem to be more plausible. He might be the idea guy, but the bandages man had to admit it wasn't a bad tactic. "Only one problem with that plan, Corte de Cabelo," he mocked, not really expecting anyone to get the reference to a movie he barely even remembered. "You're still alive. I'm not expert on vampires, but I think they're supposed to hear your heartbeat for miles, or some shit like that." Just then, another man walked in, presumably the extra Steeler was sending with them; another foreigner, from the sound of it. Weren't they supposed to be an American vampire hunting group?

The plan seemed to be coming together. The director was beginning to get a better feel on each of these people and how they worked in a real life situation: Russo was happy and obedient as long as he was able to murder, Teatime was content as long as he was given the illusion of control, and the Executioner didn't seem to much care as long as he able to use his brain. This new information would help as time went by.

He snapped his fingers at Teatime's request, a guard fishing a black glass eye from a box he had on his person. "I'd anticipated this, so I had one made when we first found you. We're working on one that can connect to your optic nerves and restore your sight, but until the, this will have to do." The guard walked forward, holding the box out to the mad barber.

As Russo trampled his expensive desk, he couldn't stop himself from sighing and holding the bridge of his nose. The new recruit entered the room then, with the respect and grace expected from a soldier. "Pleased to meet you, Mr. Sheffield," he greeted, extending his hand to shake. "I trust you'll make the tax payers proud, considering the money we spent to create you." This was his first meeting with the new recruit, but he already trusted the man more than the three felons. Hopefully he would be able to draw the group together and pull off this operation.

Teatime put away his knife and brushed off his hands, his beautiful golden curls shedding to the floor from his final cuts. He looked like a punk indeed, if one were to imagine the black hair on him, even more so, plus he could fit in with a bunch of rag tag leeches.

Teatime took the time to think about The Executioner's words as he looked at him, giving him a show now by reaching it to pluck out his cold class eye, leaving only a sickening socket there. He gave a look to Steeler and gave his usual creepy giggle before pocketing his eye and then replacing it with a 'schlop' and a 'pop' before blinking wildly and adjusting it. "Does this thing have a heat sensing mode on your computer? If so, you should have someone watch and tell me if someone is hiding or behind a thin wall."

"I am use to hunting them, not them hunting me. They usually avoid or ignore me anyways, I suppose I don't look too friendly to them, do I? It takes a powerful vampire to have those kind of senses, and with the rush of an attack, I don't think many will pay me any mind. If they do, I just kill them, easy as taking candy from children."

He looked dead at the new guy, "Have you ever taken candy from children? It is such a rush."