@ImAWanderer Tsorbaev Dacha - 10 Miles outside Sevastopol, Ukrainian SSR Olena Stepanova shivers slightly from the feeling of damp leaves under her chest, separated from her skin by only the skintight material of her bodysuit. She doesn't much mind the cold, though - despite the wet, it's nearly summer, and her training had her enduring far worse conditions than this, as she lies prone on the forest floor, looking out at the Dacha through a pair of binoculars, covered in leaves to stop any glint that might expose her to the people she's looking at. There are a number of cars out in the front courtyard, and more arrive as the hours tick on. They tend to be European and Japanese models, with a few Fords mixed in. Precious few are of Soviet make, reflecting the high status of those pulling up to attend the party. The old Dacha was constructed for one of the nobles of the Tsar's court, a haven by the Black Sea for the privileged, and it serves the same purpose today, as the holiday home of one of Gosbank's leading figures. The guests are mostly favored members of the Ukrainian Presidium, and some members of the national party as well. The mission is simple. Olena thinks back to her documentation, now destroyed, recreating it in her mind and making sure she's got a crystal clear grasp on her target's features. Spoiler: Operation Baba Yaga (Burn after reading) Target: Oleksandyr Andropov Andropov is the chief of the Gosbank (Soviet State Bank) in Ukraine. Born in Kronstadt in 1920 to a sailor and a tractor factory welder, he's been a member of the party since 1938. He studied economics at Moskva State University and graduated with honors. After spending the first few years of the Great Patriotic War in an advisory role, he volunteered to join the Red Army - as an enlisted man, even though he was qualified for officer training - in 1943, and mustered out following the Fall of Berlin in 1945. His final military rank was Мла́дший сержа́нт (junior sergeant). Post war, he returned to his work as an economist, joining Gosbank and steadily rising through the ranks of the organisation. Andropov has, for an indeterminate number of years, used his position to funnel money both to his foreign accounts, and to a number of figures both within and outside the Soviet Union. Additional Details: - Psychological profiling has identified Andropov as a charming sociopath with a compulsive desire for expensive goods and a luxurious lifestyle, with a sexually promiscuous streak. He's paranoid and careful, but not enough to refrain from flaunting his wealth, or engaging in liasons with women half his age. - Andropov is a combat veteran, but there's no indication that he's been in a fight since the Hitlerite invasion. His threat level is estimated as low. Mission: Infiltrate the Tsorbaev Dacha and retrieve a microfiche film containing a list of Andropov's transactions and their recipients. The microfiche should be hidden within a painting in Andropov's office, according to a KGB source. Andropov is a secondary target. If possible, agent should terminate him - though the microfiche is the priority and Andropov's life should not be taken if it will prevent the agent from acquiring the film. Time passes as Olena observes, more cars arriving, the party in the dacha beginning in earnest once the sun is down. It's about time to make her own move. She looks at the exterior of the Dacha. In the front, party guests arrive - mostly older men with younger women on their arms. Two guards stand by the door, but they don't seem to be checking anyone particularly thoroughly, probably afraid of offending high ranking party officials. At the side, Olena sees maids step out of a servant's entrance, taking long drags of cigarettes in between shifts. On one of her slow patrols through the woods around the dacha, the redhead spotted a set of stairs heading down into the the dacha basement. There's a guard posted there, but he has a tendency to wander off to flirt with the maids every now and then, leaving the basement entrance unguarded. Finally, looking across at woods on the other side of the dacha, she sees a mirror glint from the trees, and raises a mirror of her own - signalling to the two other agents hidden by the car that everything is fine. With her observations done, Olena starts planning. - The first option is to go through the front door. Her contact for this mission - one of the Ukrainian presidium members attending the party - has offered to bring her with him as a plus one. Seeing how lax the guards at the front are being, she could use this to get inside without being searched. She'd have to wear a dress, though, limiting her movement somewhat. Also, the contact is pretty handsy, and will probably take the opportunity to make a move. - The second option is to don a maid uniform and head in through the side entrance. She's been provided with the paperwork to get in this way, and it should give her a reason to go into some of the non-public rooms. However, maids will probably be pretty closely watched to stop them from stealing. - The third option is to make a break for the back once the incompetent guard leaves, infiltrating the building stealthily and making her way up in the shadows. - Another, less subtle option, is to signal her fellow agents and attack the building directly. The guards seem pretty incompetent and shouldn't be too hard to deal with. There is however the threat of Alfa Group, stationed with the Black Sea Fleet at Sevastopol, which is in range to respond by helicopter within a half-hour or so, meaning she should probably make sure she does things speedily. Still, she thinks, there's no need to confine herself to a few options. She might want to make her own fresh plan. Finally, another thought appears in her mind - not about the mission, but what happens afterwards. Her CIA minders would also be highly interested in that microfiche, just as much as her official paymasters in the KGB...
Olena scanned the cars' makes and models as she finished conducting her reconnaissance... She was an unusually chipper person in the espionage business, something noted by spies and their agencies on both sides of the ocean. She wasn't a cruel person who enjoyed all the aspects of her work, she was merely an optimist that believed in the inherent good of people... Despite her defection, she was still an ardent Socialist. To see supposed "comrades" using foreign luxury goods almost to a man was... Upsetting, stirring a cold anger in her heart that she hoped would be quelled by "Comrade" Andropov's blood. But that wasn't the job, at least not the primary mission. The job was to secure the microfiche... But what to do with it? Olena lowered her binoculars, gazing over at the lights of the dacha as she considered that question. Her gaze was drawn to the mirror signals from her comrades, fellow agents ready and willing to pull her ass out of the fire if it came down to it... Above all else, she didn't want to risk them. Any treachery she indulged in, she had to try to avoid it coming down on those who relied on her as much as she relied on them... If she could get a copy of the microfiche, somehow, then the CIA and the KGB could both walk away happy. But if she couldn't... This was her first operation after being "recovered" from CIA custody. She had to give the KGB a win, if only to keep her job. Once she had some legitimacy in the eyes of the Bureau, she could start giving some wins to the Agency. That left how Olena was going to get the microfiche and neutralize Andropov. A direct assault was right out. While she was made to be a commando, she didn't like her chances of going head to head with Spetsnaz, to say nothing of the fact they were comrades that didn't necessarily deserve death. Next was the maid disguise. It was an attractive idea, but the increased scrutiny made it a bit difficult to justify in her head. That left the pure infiltration route and being the companion of one of the very men she was judging rather harshly for not supporting their countrymen... Once she shook her contact and any observers, she could knock off the heels and really get to searching, and if she was discovered she could pretend to be a drunk airhead. On the other hand, even though she had the advantage of being relatively local, her specialty was in infiltration and commando wet-work, which earned the endorsement of her gut. "Choices, choices..." With that thought echoing in her mind, Olena reached into one of the subtle pouches sewn into her bodysuit and procured a coin... She chose to indulge in a habit she picked up from one of her American handlers - let fate decide with a flip of the coin. Up it goes... Lands in the palm... Flip to the back of the hand and... "Heads. Looks like I'm thinking with that instead of shaking my ass." She sighed, studiously ignoring the streak of excitement that flittered through her abdomen at the though of being pawed at, before sending a mirror signal to her comrades. "BEGINNING - INFILTRATION!" With that, Olena began making her way to the back entrance, checking the rest of her equipment as she goes, seeing what she had available if she came upon a guard... Or was surprised by one in turn... Not that she wasn't confident in her ability to knock their lights out.
(Great post! Feel free to let me know how I'm doing.) "UNDERSTOOD - HOLDING POSITION" Olena sees the guard at the back light a cigarette, his youthful face illuminated by a brief flash of flame before he heads off around the side of the dacha, looking to test his luck on the maids again. With him gone, she creeps forward up through the garden at the back, deftly dodging any flowers or vines that might expose her presence if she crushed them underfoot. Looking down at her waist, she examines her weaponry. Unfortunately, the speed with which this op started meant that she didn't have an opportunity to choose gadgets, so her loadout is rather...primitive. Strapped to her thigh in a holster is a Makarov pistol with a suppressor. Spoiler: Makarov Small, low calibre handgun. Low damage, low noise. Bonus to use for targeted assassination attacks, but a malus to use in gunfights. Strapped to her left shoulder is a compact SMG, small enough not to interfere with her movement or to rattle around and make noise. Spoiler: Kiparis Low calibre smg. Mid damage, high noise. Small capacity. Touching her belt, the spy checks the buckles to make sure everything's secure. She feels her knife in a hip holster, next to three stun grenades. There is, however, something new. A strange, blocky contraption of rubber and plastic hangs off her hip, opposite her knife. According to her KGB superiors, it's a modification of a device recently developed by the CIA - a "TASER". From what she's heard, the original design was deeply flawed, so the KGB have made some changes. Spoiler: Prototype Taser A device which uses electricity to incapacitate enemies. The original American version, made a year or so ago, is flawed - often dispensing too little electricity, or too much and causing a heart attack. This one has been modified to solve that problem, and is reliable. This comes with the drawback, though, of needing to be used in melee range, and too many uses in a short period can cause it to short out. Equipment check done, she creeps forward towards the basement entrance. Taking position by the stairs, she listens for a moment, and finally satisfied that no one is down there, slowly descends the stairs. She resists the urge to sneeze as she reaches the bottom. The stairs lead into a wine cellar. In front of her are several wooden rows housing bottles of alcohol, and beyond them, at the back of the room, are some barrels and a table. Moonlight filters in through the window, and off to the side, she can see stairs leading up into the Dacha. The cellar is deserted, but she can see dust particles flying wildly in the moonlight, suggesting that the place has been disturbed recently and frequently - probably maids getting drinks for the guests upstairs.
Olena unholstered her taser as she entered the confines of the basement - she wouldn't feel bad about popping a guard, but if she could avoid unnecessary suffering, that would be ideal, to say nothing of the fact that even a suppressed pistol such as a Makarov could still compromise her... Especially as the thought that it was only maids coming down into the wine cellar rather than guards. With that thought in mind, it was best she made herself scarce, and quickly at that... Still, it was worth taking two minutes to inspect the room with a closer eye for details. For example, the papers on the table might be worth something, perhaps a suspicious ledger or schematics of the rest of the dacha that she was about to walk into. If anything of the sort caught her eye, she would retreat into the shadows by the room's passageway to the rest of the manor as she scanned the document. If nothing of interest caught her eye, Olena would creep forth, continuing on without further ado and with an abundance of caution.
(Sorry, I didn't realise you'd replied ) Spoiler: Luck Roll D100: 23 Sadly, as she creeps forward to examine the basement table, Olena sees only pages of an old wine inventory, detailing the cellar's stocks. As she examines the disappointing find, her ears perk up as she hears movement near the stairs leading up into the dacha proper. The rickety old steps lead up and to the left, blocked from sight by the wall, but she can hear a door at the top opening, heavy footsteps slowly coming downwards, along with a woman's giggle.
(It's okay, I figured you were busy) Olena inwardly cursed, but showed no reaction as she waited in the darkness. The heavy footfalls suggested the giggling woman was being accompanied by a man - perhaps the young guard had gotten lucky after all? Pushing the amusing thought aside, Olena grimaced as she hoped her red hair wouldn't mark her out when the duo came downstairs... Once they did, she reckoned could slip past them and go right back up the way they had come, staying on the side of the steps closest to the wall to avoid giving them away with any creaking wood. Nonetheless, the amazonian woman would unholster her taser - she could neutralize the female and deal with her partner without any fancy gadgets, if it came down to it. Women made more noise when they scream and she was certain she could handle some hired thug.
Spoiler: Stealth Roll D100: 83+10 (Deft Feet Trait)=93 (Crit) Olena presses herself against the wall, her feet silently sliding back across the decrepit floor boards, shadows enveloping her. Standing silently, controlling her breathing as she's been trained so that only the faintest hint of breath enters or leaves her lungs - the stretched fabric of her bodysuit not appearing to move. To all but an alert, careful viewer, she's effectively invisible. And the pair above are far from alert or careful. The redhead hears a few steady, heavy thumps on the wood of the stairs, before a series of far faster ones, followed by more high pitched giggling from the woman, and a bassy male Russian voice. "Cyka, I can't believe I let you get me so drunk." He laughs, voice a little slow. "Heh, I don't think you needed much encouragement." The woman says, slurring in Russian, too intoxicated to keep her rural Ukrainian accent from emerging through. She sees them as they emerge at the bottom of the stairs, stepping out mere feet away from her and not seeing her for a second. The pair are red faced and smiling, a buxom blonde and a tall Central Asian whose muscles stretch his suit. They're on each other in seconds, wet sounds filling the room as they clumsily share a kiss, the man's hands reaching up to undo the buttons of the blonde's dress, getting frustrated as he fails, before tearing the garment open. The blonde protests angrily, but her anger doesn't last long. Olena watches as the women bends over the table, impatiently swiping away the papers Olena just examined as the man pulls up her dress and enters her. From there, the room is filled with moans, groans and the rythmic slap of flesh on flesh, and Olena's pretty sure she could dance her way up the stairs without being noticed over the racket. The stairs are open to her now, and she'll have no problem ascending. Alternatively, if she likes, she knows from experience that she could easily first take down the couple she caught in flagrante delicto and take them off the board with basically no effort, having gone unseen while they're so distracted.
Olena silently watched as the couple passed her, failed to look back and see her, then slipped past them with nary a whisper of shifting fabric or clunking boots against the wooden floor. Perhaps she ought to have carried on up the stairs without looking back, but look back she did, just to make sure neither of the lovers had looked up to see her... And stopped for a moment. Olena couldn't help but look both the local woman and the muscular Central Asian - perhaps a Khazak or an Uzbek - up and down, tracing every soft pale swell and every hard bronze edge. She took a sharp breath in as the guard brutishly tore parts of the maid's outfit just to get at her body, a pale fire in her gut beginning to grow at the display of dominance and sheer desire. The double-agent's thick thighs began to subtly rub against one another as she watched the woman meekly accept the damage to her uniform and bend over the table. Olena's thoughts wandered as she stimulated her clitoris between the skin of her thighs and the fabric of her bodysuit. Did the maid do this often? Was the guard her partner or did she make herself available to everyone? Perhaps it was the guard who liked to play with other women in the manor? ... What would happen if the redhead made herself known? If she sidled up behind the guard and pressed her body against his? Would he finish having his way with the maid? Would hold her close so she couldn't escape sharing the maid's fate? Would he make her kneel or bend her over the table right next to her fellow slut as he made her clean him, made her take him- Olena shook her head, pulling herself out of the perverted fantasy - and her hands away from her increasingly wet crotch. "Madness. What kind of person would fuck an intruder in that scenario?" She chastised herself, before tearing her eyes away from the erotic pairing and moving on... The amazonian Ukrainian decided against knocking the lovers out. The pair would likely wake up and raise the alarm long before she could escape with the microfiche and assassinate Andropov...
With a new dampness beneath her suit, Olena creeps up the stairs, making it to the top and walking out of the doorway after slicing the pie and making sure no one's in the doorway beyond. She steps out into a long hallway decorated with fine art. To her right, she can hear the sounds of a piano playing - something by Tchaikovsky, she thinks - and the constant rumble of conversation. Clearly the party is that way. Looking right, she can see the hallways leads to a small foyer area separated from the main ballroom. It's empty, and the doorways should allow her to peek at the guests to see if Andropov is there. In the opposite direction, she can see a stairway leading up to the second level - where she recalls Andropov's office being located. Behind her, she still hears the sound of the blonde moaning and begging her lover to take her harder.
Olena considered taking a moment to peek at the ballroom - it would be good to have an idea of where Andropov was at the moment. But the risk of someone happening to glance in her direction was a bit high for her tastes. She would find her target when- The redhead's thoughts were interrupted by the impassioned cries of the lucky maid below, causing her face to redden and her thighs to press together. "Good Lord, woman, do you have any decency?" Whether the farm girl was chastising herself or the maid was unknown to even her. Olena stuck with her original thought, as well as the increasing need to join- get away from the couple in the basement before they clouded her judgement any further. The Amazonian Ukrainian keeps a low posture as she creeps closer to the stairway - before she commits to going up the steps, she ensures there's no security watching it. Whether there are or not, she also tries to see if there's an alternative way up that isn't quite so obvious.
Creeping up to the stairway banister and casting an upwards glance, Olena can't see any hint that there's anyone in eyesight of the stairs - though it's hard to say for sure from here. Thinking about alternate ways around, she recalls there's some laticework for hanging vines out back, and recalls from examining the blueprints that there's a dumbwaiter in the kitchen.
Olena could hardly go back outside after the work (rather, emotional labor) she had put in to get into the building just to climb her way back up from the outside. The dumbwaiter was a clever idea, but she didn't like the thought of being stuck within an enclosed space with no idea who was waiting for her at the top. That was to say nothing about whether there was kitchen staff catering to the party in the ballroom. "Nothing for it, then." Olena figured, before she began to creep up the stairway, trading her taser for her Makarov. Ideally, she could stay close to the banister and hop over to avoid detection if there was someone coming out from one of the rooms on the second floor, such as another maid. Worst case scenario, she would have to either threaten them with her gun or shoot them right off the bat - in the latter case, she was praying only a guard would face that possibility...
Spoiler: Luck Roll D100: 51 Olena lets out a breath as she reaches the top of the stairs, seeing no one waiting for her. Gun still at the ready, she begins moving forward, using her memory of the blueprints for guidance as she heads towards Andropov's office. She makes it a few steps, entering into a hallway. As she passes one of the doors, though, she jumps slightly in surprise as she hears a loud noise come from behind it - a toilet flushing. Already, she can hear someone's shoes on a tiled floor and water running.
Olena didn't waste any time - the only way through was forward. The only question was which way. She was tempted to quickly swap back to her taser and rush the person in the bathroom. But she chose to try to go for one of the other doors, avoiding the conundrum of leaving an unconscious person in the lieu. Worst case scenario, the individual in question may follow her into the room, where she could deal with them in a more controlled environment...
As Olena hears the water in the bathroom stop, she darts forward, going for the nearest door. The handle rattles but doesn't move. She tries another, only to find it too is locked. Behind her, she hears the sound of a zipper being redone. She tries another door handle and bundles into the room as it opens, letting her get inside and out of sight as she hears the bathroom door open. She closes the door swiftly behind her, beginning to turn and- "Sorry, ma'am. If you'll wait a few minutes the room will be ready soon." A woman's voice says in Ukrainian-accented Russian. Olena looks down to see a maid scrubbing the floor, looking bored and not yet having looked up to see that Olena isn't dressed like your average party guest.
Olena froze as she noticed the maid for two reasons, technically three. There was the comically ironic conundrum of being stuck in a room with a member of the house while trying to escape the notice of another, of course. But also, good Lord! The infiltrator couldn’t help but stare at reason two and reason three. “She could mother a whole generation with a chest like that, holy SHIT-,” she thought. She had quite the bust herself, but this woman put the redhead to shame. Right, she needed an answer. “Oh, that’s alright. I just, uh… Need to check the closet.” Olena said, trying to keep it cool and casual as she tore her eyes away from the maid’s mammaries, looking for literally anything to disappear in to. Whatever could keep her out of sight while the maid finished up and left, hopefully.
Spoiler: Perception Roll D100: 89 "Closet? WAIT! I-I'm not finished cleaning in there!" The maid looks up, her voice betrayed by genuine worry as Olena steps past her, hands gripping the handles of the wardrobe doors. It's a small wardrobe - set a foot or two into the wall - and despite the maid's warning, Olena can't find a hint of cleaning agents to indicate that it's somehow unsafe to go inside. Her eyes narrow as she spots a wooden box tucked into the corner of the floor, nearly blocked from sight by some fine Oxfords - as if purposefully hidden.
"I'll be just a moment!" Olena replied breezily as she rushed into the wardrobe - hopefully the maid would simply believe she needed to get into the back to grab something. And grab something Olena does she curiously picks up the box, head tilting like a confused dog. "Huh," she intoned, intrigued by what seems to be a hidden secret. Still bent forward, bodysuit hugging tightly to her callipygian derriere, the not-so-local Ukrainian proceeds to open the box then and there.
(Today I learned the world callipygian ) "Wait, no!" The maid cries out as Olena's fingers undo the metal clasps holding the box closed. The lid pops upwards, flying open mechanically, and the force of the movement jostles a shining object off of the rim and to the floor. Following it, Olena looks down to the floor to see a diamond necklace. "срака..." The maid mutters under her breath in Ukrainian, as Olena's eyes trail back to the box, seeing a scattering of bangles, earrings and necklaces. "Those aren't mine, I-" Turning back, Olena sees the maid's eyes widen as she takes in what Olena's wearing - along with her not insubstantial armaments. "...Who are you?" She asks. The woman jumps violently, as a banging sounds at the door. "What's all the racket? Everything okay in there?" A man's voice calls out in gruff Russian.
(Glad to be of service. Lol) Olena's eyes widened as she froze and watched the jewelry scatter both in and out of the box, like a dog that wasn't quite sure what happened or how she caused it. Her blue eyes slowly rose to meet the maid's, whose gaze fell on her bodysuit and accoutrements, revealing she wasn't just any guest... But then, perhaps the maid wasn't just any staffer. Between the maid asking too many questions and the sound at the door, Olena dropped the box and flowed towards brunette. "Don't move," she hissed, attempting to grab the maid and pull her close, unholstering her pistol as she did so. Presumably, the KGB-trained spy would be able to successfully subdue the working woman, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and throat to keep her from going anywhere. If there was any trouble, she could choke her into unconsciousness with a rear-naked choke. Meanwhile, her pistol rested just above the woman's hip and on her waist, aimed at the door. "Tell him you were just cleaning in here," Olena instructed the supposed maid, ready to render her unconscious and shoot dead any man who walked through the door.
