Internal Affairs

The Market – Downtown Miami

Fresh from being recruited into the FBI Counter-terrorism Task Force’s Office of Special Assignments the team has been summoned to the ‘Market’, a run-down building on the water near Downtown. While the front of the building serves as an operational fish market, with boats offloading their catch on the dock in the rear, the inside functions as an off-site office of sorts for the OSA that comes complete with interrogation rooms and various screens and monitors that connect back to the main office so that the team’s activities can be coordinated and relayed back.

Ellie, who had been standing before one of the larger monitors, turned on her heels and greeted the team with a smile. She motioned for them to sit around the conference table. "The assignment is simple," she stated in way of greeting, "though not without plenty of danger."

The screen just past her shoulder winked on, crime scene photos began to slowly scroll across. "The Mikhailovich’s and some as of yet unknown individuals have been involved in a drug war that has been escalating recently at a significant pace with bodies dropping like it’s the ‘End of Days’. So far the DEA, FBI, and others have been unable to make any inroads into either organization. With the theft of the SEER program, the Mikhailovich Syndicate has shown themselves to be a clear danger to national security so the Office of Special Assignments has been tasked with rectifying the situation.

"But … as they have shown themselves to be hard to infiltrate we know virtually next to nothing on them other than Katja Mikhailovich is most likely it’s leader. Though try getting that statement to stick with her high media profile, social media presence, and philanthropy.

"Fortunately we are less interested in making a case against her than we are interested in gathering intelligence on their various activities here in Miami. So … posing as criminals for hire you will be expected to ingratiate yourself to her organization and hopefully get an invitation for a more permanent position."

With a knowing smirk Ellie motioned for someone to enter from the door leading out to the docks, "I believe some of you may know Nikolai."

The long haired thief sauntered in to stand beside Ellie, a roguish grin on his face as he took the team in. "Nik has some low-level connections and has agreed to make some introductions and assist where he can."

She carefully laid three file folders on the table, "Here are your covers ... so you are encouraged to be intimately familiar with the contents of these files as you will be living these lives for hopefully the foreseeable future."

---

Dozer stood there, taking in the mission brief, a nonplus expression pulling back on his face.

"Well, hi Nik. Good to see you again," Dozer gave a little wave as he stepped up to his file, "I'm just going to come out and say: I am probably going to be the weak link in this plan."

He pointed over at V.

"As the twenty dollars in V's pocket can attest, I am not very good at bluffing.""So y'all are probably going to have to cover for me with all the talking."

He then opened his file, and looked at what was inside. His eyebrows raised.

"'Bill Sheridan, Ex-Army, dishonorably discharged for attacking an allied officer, now a mercenary currently down on his luck.' I almost feel like I'm being typecast," he waved a hand at his chin, "is it the beard? Am I being stereotyped because of the beard?"

V greeted he colleagues as she walked in.

"A mission infiltrating the Bratva? I thought you'd never ask!"

Turning to Dozer, she added, "don't worry about being able to speak the language, remember that crash course I gave you in Russian last week, tovarich?", giving him a hearty slap on the back.

Leafing through the cover ID dossier, she cocked an eyebrow, "Nadya Fedora Kozlov, a blind antiquities dealer from the Ural mountains. Looks like someone took Dozer's joke suggestion to heart.", she said, chuckling.
"That should help get Fenris in as well. I'll need to get darker sunglasses to pull this off.", she added w/ a grin.

"It was literally yesterday, V," Dozer grin-grimaced, "And even then I'm not sure it's going to stick."

Dozer looked over his dossier some more, and started pretend grumbling.

"Darn word salad language, tossing letters around and not even pronouncing 'em like they're spelled," he looked up at Nik with a smile and a wink, "Their boss lady's half Italian, right? Couldn't she have chosen that family name? At least I'd have a chance of remembering it correctly.

"But yeah, it looks like, in my case, we might need to play up that Ms. Koslov was worried about traveling in an area with increasing violence, so y'all hired me. My recent gig fell through, and I'm kinda desperate for work."

"There should be some good addresses in the section marked 'Analysis', Ms. Koslov," 'Sheridan' said, with just the slightest Texan-like twang, as he pointed at the index card collection on one of the tables at V's question about good sites to look up for Appraisal techniques, before turning back to Ellie.

"So let me see if I heard this correctly," Ellie waved a hand as her mind tried to process the suggestion, "You are suggesting... a monster truck? With a 20mm Gatling Gun strapped to it?"

"A'yeah," Sheridan nodded, "Because I'm thinkin', 'if I was a jackass trying to join the Russian mob, what would I drive?'"

He then raised his hands in a 'wait' gesture.

"But also, but also," he did the finger pointing with a goofy grin, "America."

He then thumbs upped.

"But also illegal," Ellie noted, quirking an eyebrow.

Sheridan shrugged, "probably not as illegal as carrying concealed firearms."

"I am reasonably certain that is not true."

Nik cleared his throat, "It also only seats two."

Sheridan paused.

"I was thinkin' we'd strap you to the hood," he said, before waving in defeat as he walked over to the gun cabinet, "Alright alright, 'stuffing an armory under my shirt' it is. Going to need a different holster for my M9."

Sheridan then pointed at Nik.

"Which I've thoroughly cleaned, thank you verymuch," he said before reaching into the cabinet to pull out a sleek bullpup, "and of course gotta thank the boss lady for being thorough. Civilian nine mil AUG converted for autofire, will fit the cover. Will need to leave some of my heavier tools at home, though. I get the feeling what we're taking isn't as strong as my truck."

His monologue quieted down a little as he started going through all his gear, though he still muttered a little as he gave himself a refresher course on concealed carry techniques.

The Market – Downtown Miami

Stephen arrived at the fish market at the appointed time, almost down to the minute. He wanted to avoid fraternizing as much as possible. Despite Dani's assurances, he still wasn't convinced he wasn't walking into a Pitfall trap. He had considered various disguises to use for the briefing but he decided it was unlikely that whatever security this group had would just let some random guy off the street enter the facility. Besides, Dani had shown she already knew who he was.

Upon his arrival Stephen had a brief meeting with Dani to discuss his service fee. The negotiating went surprisingly smoothly, all things considered. Ultimately, Stephen was able to get a very good deal for himself in exchange for using a number of his personal assets for the upcoming mission.

At the briefing, he scanned over the cover identity before setting it back down on the table. "Per the arrangement I reached with Dani, I'll be providing my own cover identity for this operation. We should hold this one in reserve, it may come in useful as a back up down the road."

---

Dozer looked over from the table.

"Ah, he finally speaks," he said, normally, as he walked over to give the guy a back pat, "'You're own cover identity', huh? Must be pretty good at those, then?"

A thought crossed his mind, and he turned to Ellie.

"Hey, uh... he part of that crew we... worked with last time?"

The Market - Downtown Miami

Ellie shrugged in response to Dozer (or Bill's rather) inquiry, her discerning gaze taking in the whole of Stephen through narrowed eyes, "I can't say for sure ... though Jubal couldn't stop giggling like he knew something I didn't so ...

Nik's contact will make the introduction at the Saxony Bar in South Beach this evening so dress appropriately, otherwise you won't be let in."

She placed a key fob on the table, "Here this should help ... and a few ground rules. Obviously we expect you to infiltrate a criminal organization so the legality of some of your activities will be ignored. You do something that puts you on local law enforcement's radar you're on your own. AND NO MURDERS.

"I'll remain as close by as I can in case you need assistance, though anytime you contact me will be risky. Otherwise ... GOOD LUCK."

---

The Market - Downtown Miami

Bill Sheridan shrugged.

"Hey, y'all don't have to tell me ta keep the murder count down to zero. Heck, it's the one thing I'm worried about. These rough 'n tough gangsters are always big on 'proving loyalty', which is usually code for 'kill this guy we've got a bag over the head of'."

He turned to 'Ms. Koslov'.

"In case someone asks, I'm using rubber rounds on your orders. Maybe something about not leaving some kind of smell? I'll let you take that one."

He then turned and leaned on the table. Giving a short glance as Stephen excused himself to leave, Dozer shook his head, possibly muttering "Flatlanders..." before taking a deep breath.

"Okay, less gas-guzzling idea. One thing that both mercs and gangsters love is tattoos. Not much for 'em myself, but maybe one of those temporary ones for undercover work? Then I could go sleeveless, maybe cut up denim..."Later...
Homestead, FL

Dozer locked the door, and quickly walked over to the desk he had hidden the phone. In addition to the phone, he pulled out a spare medallion, different to the one he normally had. As he waited for the phone to boot up, he thumbed it open, before pulling out his first one and repeating with that one. He then tapped the quarter out.

He paused to look at it. He tended to play it safe, so he usually didn't take it out to look at. He looked at the front, with it's eagle-in-star design.



He then flipped it over. The front was standard, but the back was personally customized for each member. In Dozer's case it was a group photo of some stylized Revolutionary soldiers in alt-world tactical gear proudly walking forward, an American flag flying above.In scroll text (ooc- Y'know, that artistic scroll thing they put on ye olde type pictures) above and below were etched the words "Honoring Liberty, Liberty In Honor".

Dozer smiled. Some of the guys thought it was kinda corny, but he was proud of it.

He then carefully set it inside the new medallion, before closing it up.

The phone blipped. He had a message to call.

He quickly dialed up the number, and pressed the app button when he got the tone.

"Hey Dozer, glad you called when you did."

"No problem, Jazz. What's up?"

"First of all, caught wind that you might be infiltrating Mikhailovich. Good, we've been wanting to get eyes on ourselves, so this is perfect for us. Our Micro friends are in on it too, and have sent a guy that handled the hard drive."

"Yeah," Dozer said, his voice flat, "I guessed that cover identity guy might have been related. Good to have confirmation."

"You can extend that to his whole crew, as I understand it. You know what to do."

'Crew'. Right.

"Don't worry, he's taking point," Dozer said, "I'll make sure to cover his six. Gotta say, though, feeling a bit of Inception going on here. Cover in a cover in a cover and all that."

"Probably a blessing in disguise, because that's the other thing I want to talk about. We think someone with resources might have caught your scent."

"Oh crap. What happened? Any of the other guys in trouble?"

"No, Dozer, everyone else has been quarantined and fortified. It's just you in the crosshairs."

"Oh great." Dozer said through gritted teeth, "I feel so much better for some reason."

"Like I said, this might be a blessing. Try to stay in cover as long as you can, and keep your head on a swivel. We can't... confirm who it might be, but I've got guys on the lookout, and the Flores crew is top notch, so trust in them."

Dozer paused."Mmm, c'mon man. That was very weak, even I could catch it. Who do you think it could be?"

"Look... We don't think it's PITFALL, and one of the guys made the crazy suggestion that it might be your old girlfriend. BUT! Unless she's somehow got her mitts on some high grade resources, it's highly unlikely."

"Or she got captured or compromised, and they used the information she had to catch the trail."

"YES! Yes, thank you, that's very likely, too. So if you see her, keep your head down, it might not actually be her, it might be her with brain slugs, just DON'T talk to her! Lives are on the line, we need your head in the mission."

"Jeez, Jazz, relax, I've never heard you this worked up before. You know me. Once I'm clicked in, I'm on point until someone tells me to stop."

"You are going to think of her in your off time, aren't you?"

"ABsolutely."

Dozer heard a sigh on the other end.

"Considering the situation, we are also prioritizing the background check you asked for on Volkova. Unfortunately, there are some question marks that need answering on our end. Keep an eye on her this mission, report back on what you find, she might receive a coin yet.

That said, there is some good news. You've met Nikolai Sikorsky."

Dozer raised an eyebrow.

"The Russian land pirate? The one that helped Sebastian on top of the train?"

"Turns out he was being groomed for CIA duty until his family was killed by his grandparents. It's CIA complicated, you know."

"Oof, I'll bet. CIA, huh? This for us or our martini bros?"

"Normally I'd say this is their guy, but our Intel needs some beefing up, so we've gotten permission to call dibs on this one, with an opt out option to join them instead, if he so chooses."

"Fair enough," Dozer said, holding up the empty medallion, "Though I was barely able to think of what to say to V to get her to join. Sigh. Why can't I just knock him out, strap a Fulton to him, and let you guys take care of the rest?"

"We could try setting that up if you want."

"Guy, I was joking, sheesh. Not least of which, it'll throw the entire mission out of whack."

"Got your spare medallion?"

"Holding it right now."

"Next best thing, give him an empty one, send him to the address I'm sending you now. You can try to prime him yourself if you can, but otherwise I'll take care of it from there."

Dozer looked at his phone, and did his best to memorize it.

"Right, roger that. Actually, it might work out. I need to use the backup for the cover, I can give the usual one to him, the one the Banshee crew had briefly?"

"Roger, we got a picture for confirmation that time."

"It'll be extra easy, because it's a bit scuffed up like someone banged it on a table, or something."

"Understood. I'll be waiting."

"Alright, catch you on the flip side."

"And remember, redhead, red light."

"Yeesh, first you try to get me a date, now you're telling me to stay away from a girl that's chasing me. What a way this world works sometimes."

"Running from exes that won't let go is a time honored tradition, my man. Jazz out."

"Dozer out."

Dozer looked at his phone, and a nagging thought crept back up.

Oh, I am definitely thinking of her when I can. I at least have confirmation there...

Briefing Room

Responding to Dozer, Stephen changed the inflection of his voice to match that of Alex. "Yea, I was the guy you spoke with at the taco stand." Fishing a phone out of his pocket, he added, "I trust you still have that phone. It's the only one this phone will accept calls form."

Stephen stood up, "Now, if you will excuse me, I need to make the arrangements for my Cover ID." With a nod, he started to make his way off the premises.

A corner booth at a random diner

It was probably somewhat telling that Stephen felt safer contacting C.O.B.R.A. from a public diner over the "secure" facility but he was fairly certain that there were fewer people that wished him harm here than there. There were too many people that could too easily be working for PITFALL with the other agents around them none the wiser.

He pulled out his laptop, connected to the local wifi, routed himself through 2 different secure VPNs to make it difficult to trace and left a dead drop email for COBRA that included some details of his new ID.

New ID: Mykola Antonov
Middle Aged (46), Ukrainian man from Rudky
Retired soldier turned arms dealer. The annexation of Ukraine by Russia created supply, demand, and opportunity to transport arms across the border.
Main Language: Ukrainian
Profession: Smuggler
Interests: Cigars, Gambling
Use photo U17-2.


He then went to a dark-web chat room and left a message for his Freelance Network. He gave them some specific online information for them to create to solidify the ID. Both COBRA and his Network were capable of creating fake IDs on their own when needed but between them they had access to areas the other didn't and together they could really lock things down.

---

Briefing Room - Time-warp edit

"I can't say for sure ... though Jubal couldn't stop giggling like he knew something I didn't so …"

Stephen cleared his throat.

"Yea, I was the guy you spoke with at the taco stand." Fishing a phone out of his pocket, he added, "I trust you still have that phone. It's the only this phone will accept calls form."

With a stunned look on his face, Dozer nodded.

"Yeah, I do. That's pretty good. Wait..." a thought crossed his mind, before looking back and forth between Ellie and Stephen, "He wouldn't also be... Naw, that can't be. But Jubal was laughing about it..."

Dozer ran a hand through his hair as he stepped to the side, what was going through his mind evident on his face.

"Oh friggin Miami! Dag nabbed flatlanders and their... ugh!" he said, before turning and pointing at the bespectacled man, "Great, now I live near a beach with half-naked ladies, and you've got me paranoid about 'em!"

Despite his apparent anger, it's pretty easy to tell that he's just flustered, and nowhere near violent about it. Just a country boy once more confounded by life in the big city.

Ellie suppressed a smile.

"Shall I continue the briefing?" she asked.

"PLEASE," Dozer nodded enthusiastically.

"Nik's contact will make the introduction..."

@ Nik: "You must not have been 'round the country much if you think a truck only seats 2!", elbowing him in a joking manner. ;)

@ Stephen: "I don't recall seeing you earlier, have we met?"

"Yeah, it's probably a good idea for us all to pick up some new threads to blend in."

With the briefing seemingly concluded Stephen and Nik excused themselves to confer with their own network and contacts to secure gear, leaving Varvara and Dozer to peruse the Office of Special Assignments impressive collection of gear and supplies.

Satisfied with his selections Dozer left, mentioning getting some things from his home to which V nodded in agreement while mumbling something about telling her husband she'd be out of contact for 'a while'.

---

Saxony Bar, Faena Hotel - Miami Beach



The Saxony Bar is one of Miami’s most exclusive clubs, that is only open three days out of the week and typically reservation only, and widely recognized as THE place for the rich and famous. As the team pulled up to the valet, the line to get into the door was already extended well down the block. A young man in well-tailored clothes was nervously smoking a cigarette to the doorman’s right and upon seeing the team, more specifically Nik, recognition dawned on his face and he flicked the cigarette away and approached, extending his hand to the roguish thief. "YA mogu predstavit {I can make introductions}," he said by way of greeting in Russian, "No u vas yest' svoy sobstvennyy ottuda {But you’re on your own from there}."

Nik laughed and clapped the young man on the shoulder, "Rasslab'tes'. Vy poluchayete nas v dver {Relax. You get us in the door} … My dazhe. I nichto ne srabotayet na tebya {We’re even. And nothing will blow back on you.}."

Taking one last look at the team the young Russian thug nodded, seemingly satisfied. Before turning to the bouncer he paused and in English said, "And I would keep the Russian to a minimum. The boss is a little miffed at the Russian side of our thing so brought in some of her Italian associates." They were let through, past the extremely polite yet hulking bouncer, and descending the stairs were greeted by the loud yet not overbearing beats of the DJ and the beautiful black terrazzo floors, gold leaf ceilings, and art deco design. The staff and clientele were just as well-presented and gorgeous as the room. They were afforded little time to admire the impressive and intimate club as their host beckoned them on with a nod of his head towards a somewhat private table in the back of the room. A man sat at the table, his clothes and accessories of the highest quality – and no doubt expensive, sipping at a cocktail as lavishly decadent as the rest of the décor and yet still not as dangerous in appearance as the woman leaning on his shoulder sipping at her own cocktail. She didn’t need the tastefully revealing dress and expensive jewelry as her beauty dominated the room.



Their young host was quickly dismissed, whatever greeting or introduction that was on the tip of his tongue cut off by a shooing motion of the man sitting at the table’s hand. The Russians mouth closed without uttering a sound, relief plastered upon his face as he inclined his head towards the team and quickly paced towards the club’s lavish bar. The man’s steely gaze washed over them, not nearly as unsettling as the woman’s, before finally meeting their eyes and clearly waiting for them to speak …

---

Saxony Bar, Faena Hotel - Miami Beach

Stepping out of the driver's seat was a rugged looking bearded man, dressed in a western style vest, button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up just enough that you could see he had a tattoo on his right arm, and slacks. He reached into the Land Rover, and pulled out a cowboy hat (normal-sized, nothing over the top) that matched with his steel-toe boots (the boots were an intentional pick, wanted to look like he had a limited wardrobe and couldn't afford the whole outfit). Smoothly putting the hat on, he handed the key over to the valet with a nod before turning to open the back passenger door behind him.

He stood at attention as he waited for the woman inside to step out.

Saxony Bar, Faena Hotel - Miami Beach

V stepped out of the car, dark sunglasses adorning her face, and a velvet emerald-green longcoat accentuating her shapely figure, tapping her prop cane in one hand, the other on the harness of her "seeing-eye dog", Fenris.

She turned her head from one side to the other, as if listening to the scene, playing the part of "Nadya, black-market antiquities dealer"

Turning to Bill, she said "Mr. Sheridan, if you could lead the way, please - we have business to attend to."

"Yes, ma'am," Sheridan said, closing the door before getting into step behind Ms. Koslov's right shoulder, occasionally lightly putting his hand up to guide her, "Going 'round the back of the Land Rover... goin' straight."

He kept his head on a swivel as he identified the clock face of the crowd they walked past, pointing out how it was around the block. Fortunately, years of being in the military made stating the blindingly obvious second nature, because it made looking like he was stating the obvious to a seemingly blind person seem natural.

"Looks like Nik's friend is here, lookin' a little nervous," he said, voice low, "He's walkin' out to meet us, two seconds."

When they stopped to listen, Sheridan stood at attention, head moving back and forth, eyes attentive for any signs of trouble.

Saxony Bar, Faena Hotel - Miami Beach

Mykola Antonov put out the cigar he was smoking, pulled a small cigar case from his coat pocket and put his cigar in it. Little details made all the difference when it came to a proper disguise. No one would ever see him smoking this cigar but the smoke would leave an odor both in the car and on his person. The valet in the car and anyone he met could catch a whiff of the cigar and subconsciously come to accept the overall disguise more readily.

Putting the cigar case back into his coat pocket, Mykola stepped out of the vehicle adjusted his over coat, gave a nod to the valet* and made his way into Saxony Bar.

---

"And I would keep the Russian to a minimum. The boss is a little miffed at the Russian side of our thing so brought in some of her Italian associates."

A little laugh escaped Sheridan's lips.

"Won't hear any complaints from me, pal," he said, tipping his hat at the bouncer with a nod as they passed, before touching Ms. Koslov's shoulder to guide her direction down the stairs.

As they entered the room, he gave a low whistle, "Swanky, all glow-y and stuff," he said, before lifting his hat briefly to a female staffer, "Miss."

The hat came fully off when they got to the ones they were supposed to meet, Sheridan holding it relaxed over his heart. He also stood behind Ms. Koslov, for two reasons: 1.) to show who was where on the pecking order here, and 2.) to better obscure the pistol he had concealed in a holster under his belt. He felt he'd done a good job stashing it there...…And the holster would make it harder to spot, but they were going to be standing there for a bit, so anything to obscure sightlines would be of help.

As their contact walked off in relief, Sheridan leaned in to half-whisper to the 'blind' woman.

"Man to your front, woman just to the right, ma'am," he said before turning to scan the room as the others started introductions.

When it was his turn, he turned back to nod at their hosts.

"Bill Sheridan. Security," and another scan of the room as he listens...