"I...Think I might do that." She blushes just slightly, before he lets go. "Ahem. I've taken the liberty of sending the details of Marisol's operation to your headquarters. It's not much - just her safehouse and a few properties, and some contacts we put her in touch with. She was very private in how she ran her business." Windigo feels her eyes on his back as he exits the room. Washington DC, USA It's several hours later when Windigo returns to his base - the elaborate European style estate on the edge of the city. He feels the chill of being in a scope's sights as he heads into the driveway - clearly someone's on guard, which is always good. Heading inside the building, he sees Olivia at the top of the stairs, eyelids drooping, clearly recovering from some depravity the night before. "This arrived for you." She says, holding up a manila envelope. Examining it, Windigo sees that Nicolette kept her word, sending him the scant information on Marisol's operations in Bogota.
Fighting off a persistent urge to find some way to go down and introduce herself to the woman, Olena thinks about her options. She recalls seeing dresses in the wardrobe where she found Lyudmila's stash. She could also wait in the hope he goes to his office or gallery.
Olena truly wanted to put on a disguise, if only to introduce herself to that interesting looking woman... But the mission had to come first. The redhead wasn't the best at disguises or seduction - not that she was bad at it, it just wasn't her strength. She was made to meld with the shadows and strike with the precision and power of a viper, not hide in plain sight. In short, her improv skills could use some work... The balcony didn't seem too high off the ground. Olena could climb down if she so desired. That would make the office a good ambush site... Hopefully Lyudmila had gagged the bastard. With that, she propped the door to the office open - hopefully, if Andropov happened to be passing by, that would cause him to come investigate. If that didn't work, she also left the balcony doors suspiciously open, so that he might glance up and see something was off. Worst case scenario, he would send a guard or servant, in which case... The Vixen needed to find a decent place to lay in wait.
Spoiler: Luck Roll D2: 1 Olena only has to wait a few minutes before she hears the soft thump of footsteps ascending the staircase. Risking a glance from the doorway, the redhead gets a peek of Andropov's grey hair before she darts back inside to safety. "Pavel?" She hears when he reaches the top of the stairs, Ukrainian accent worn away from years in government. "Damn it, Pavel, I keep telling you people not to leave doors open! We did that back at Kursk, we'd wake up with a fucking Kraut cutting our throat. Stupid new generation..." She hears the man muttering, footsteps sounding steadily as he walks towards the office. "Never been bombed. That's your problem - you kids are spoiled. Always expecting..." Andropov's words degenerate into irritable old man murmurs. Olena has more important things to worry about. Looking at her surroundings, they're not perfect for an ambush. She can either hide in the antechamber, or the office itself. The former offers some couches as cover, while the latter has the desk. Alternatively, she could always hide behind a door - the tried and true classic.
(nice pic) Windigo nodded as he took the envelope, while glancing at Olivia. She was one of his agents, but one of those who were on thin ice. "Anything happened while I was out?" He asked as he opened the envelope and made his way to his office, while motioning Olivia to follow him.
(Thanks. Wasn't quite sure about it.) "Irene and your French cow had something of a tiff. I hardly know the details but I believe it was in regards to the war." Olivia says in that crisp, haughty British accent of hers. "It didn't get violent, but it sounded as though it was headed in that direction before your young negr- before young Laura intervened and calmed the situation." Olivia says, strutting as she follows him. Windigo finds his office empty - the hair he set up at the door undisturbed, suggesting that no one came in here, at least through the front. Olivia follows him inside. "So, might I ask what the assignment is? I resisted the urge to peek inside the envelope. I know you did get ever so cross with me last time." She purrs.
(oh, it is a very good picture) Windigo hummed. Biscuit was showing potential more and more he had her. With proper training, she would grow to be a great operative. He knew Monique could be... temperamental when it came to Irene, so he was not surprised about a clash, it was not the first and not the last. He doubted that the French woman would lose in the clash. Irene... was useful when he recruited her, but with the years, she became less and less useful. Her knowledge was long outdated, her temperament was becoming a problem, and her skills... were what he kept her for. But he should start looking for a replacement for her. The former Nazi was the first on the list to be replaced. Olivia shared a second spot on the list, with Grace. Both women were useful, but also, on thin ice as the situation stood. The Elena... was a different subject, yet undecided. "It's good that you did not." He said as he grabbed her bra and yanked it up. "Because I would have to kill you then." He grabbed her breast and squeezed it. He sat down, with his legs apart, by his desk and started reading the documents given to him by Nicolette.
Well, who could resist the dramatics? Olena hid behind the door, unholstering her silenced pistol and holding it close by her head. She wouldn’t have time to waste to get her weapon to bear, but she didn’t want it so far out Andropov could grab the gun or her wrist. If he turned and looked like he was about to scream, she would put a bullet through his head without hesitation. As it stood, it would be preferable if he didn’t do that and cooperated so she could confirm she had the primary objective in her possession…
Spoiler: Stealth Roll D100: 73+10 (Deft Feet) https://www.rolldicewithfriends.com/rooms/coldwarrpg (Using a new dice roller. Let me know if you can see the roll) "Pavel? Where'd you go, boy? Come now, I wasn't being serious..." Andropov walks out into the antechamber, heading right past Olena as she lurks in the shadows behind the door. He's looking around for his guard, not at all noticing her.
"Eek!" Olivia gives an unladylike cry as Windigo roughly pulls aside her expensive lingerie, moaning as she feels his fingers paw at her breasts, still pert and full despite her age, the glory that was able to catch the eye of a lord and government minister. "I believe you..." She exhales tersely, before obediently getting on her knees and crawling underneath his desk. Soon, he feels his cock freed, breasts wrapping around his shaft as the noble's tongue circles around his tip. As he enjoys, Windigo flips through the pages of scant documents, learning about how Marisol structured her operation. Spoiler: Marisol's Operation - La Corona del Magdalena A three layer operation, with equal distribution of labor. Cocaine is sourced from plantations in Bolivia and transported up the Magdalena river to an airfield in Northern Columbia. From there, smuggler planes are sent north, to drop their cargo over the United States. The organisation has three heads, including Marisol. The first page of the document is about Marisol herself. There's a dull official file photo. Alistair decides to replace it with a more interesting one he took of her back in the day Spoiler: Marisol Varga Marisol's role is simple but important - she ensures that US air detection 'isn't working' around drop zones, and that investigations by the Bureau of Narcotics don't get off the ground. She also handles selling the product once it arrives stateside, making her irreplaceable and able to command a high share of the profits. Spoiler: Pedro Nogueiro A former commander in FARC - Columbia's communist insurgency - who was kicked out of the organisation quite brutally after his superiors realised he was more interested in profit than revolution. He provides the muscle of the organisation - sicarios who protect the product and deal with competition. His expertise in jungle warfare also means he's in charge of setting up jungle camps for cocaine production. Spoiler: Amalia de Guzman A London-educated chemist and the bastard daughter of a Columbian cabinet minister. Guzman's role is bringing in bringing in the chemicals needed to turn coca leaves into cocaine, and to supervise the process to ensure that the product is high quality. Alistair flips through the next few pages, looking at the photos of sicarios, mules and other low-ranking members of the organisation. None of them are particularly interesting. The last page, however, changes this, as he sees a familiar face. Spoiler: Nadine Percival A former British WAAF (Women's Auxiliary Air Force) officer during the Second World War, Nadine desperately wanted to fly for her country. Unfortunately, though, only a handful of female pilots were ever allowed to actually fly, and so it seemed her dream wouldn't come true. Then, Wendigo stepped in. Nadine flew Black Canaries into German territory on deniable missions - never an actual member, but a close associate - and proved herself as a skilled and utterly fearless pilot. On the other hand, though, she's completely fucking insane. Alistair still has weird memories of that time she insisted he put a loaded Webley in her mouth as he ploughed her ass, or the time she decided it would be a good idea to fly the plane while giving him a blowjob in the middle of a German flak field. It seems she's the head pilot flying the product to the US. She's not part of the organisation's leadership, but she's undeniably important. Moreover, she knows Marisol fairly well from her Black Canary days. Spoiler: 16 El Cardenal, Bogotá Headquarters of La Corona del Magdalena. A three story colonial era building - nice but not too eye-catching. Marisol's safehouse is a few blocks away. Spoiler: Industrial District, Bogotá Warehouse where cocaine is stored for transit to the United States. Beyond that, Alistair finds reports on the Policia Federal, FARC and a high profile cigarette smuggler in the region by the name of Bartolomeo - all of whom receive regular pay offs from Marisol's organisation to keep things running smoothly.
(I can!) Olena firmly closed the door at the same time as her pistol descended, sights aligning with Andropov's head. "Comrade Andropov-" she started, stepping out of the shadows once she had his attention, "-the Soviet Union thanks you for your service. It will need one more from you." Presuming she didn't have to shut him up with a bullet to the head as mentioned above, the Vixen would take a couple extra steps towards the older man, still out of arm's reach but close enough that he would understand what he was dealing with. The redhead's blue eyes gave him a once-over, ensuring he wasn't obviously armed, before returning her hard gaze to his face. "The container from the portrait. I want it open." She commanded simply. If he waffled, she would start off by remaining unnervingly quiet - the muzzle of a gun being pointed at one's face was its own kind of speech. Hopefully, he would simply cooperate and either spill the beans or hand over a key...
( ) Spoiler: Intimidation Roll D100: 17 (Failure) https://www.rolldicewithfriends.com/rooms/coldwarrpg Andropov freezes a few steps from the door leading to the office, letting out a long, slow breath, leaning his head back. Finally, he turns slowly, inch by inch, footstep by footstep, until they're making eye contact. The old man smirks, eyes glinting, and he suddenly seems much younger than he is, almost boyish. "The Soviet Union is very kind." He chuckles. "But frankly, it can kiss my ass." He makes a show of looking her up and down. "Though I have to say, I like the prospect of being comrades with you. I like the KGB's fashion sense. Very...flattering." He says, staring at where the swell of her breasts is hugged tightly by leather. "And those bright blue eyes of yours. Very pretty." He chuckles. "You shoot me, you're not getting that box open. You don't open it here, you won't know if you got what you came for. By the time you can get far away for the alarm not to be heard and come back here, my body will have been found."
Olena made a show of humming at that. "Oh, Comrade, you're right~," she admitted breathlessly, as if she were about to tear open her suit and kneel before- Thwip! The silenced pistol jumps as Olena shoots a round past Andropov's head. She didn't really care about where it went, as long as the bullet didn't penetrate anything fragile and hit or alert someone. The balcony doors being open was a bit concerning, but the low caliber of the pistol combined with the distance and sound from the party would hopefully keep her indulgence in terror under wraps. "Or I could loot your body after I turn your head into a canoe. I don't want to hurt you, Comrade-" a lie, but he didn't need to know that, "-but I won't hesitate if I have to." Another lie... In fact, Olena didn't want to hurt Andropov. The way he was looking at her... Like she wasn't a threat even with her weapon or the way she had penetrated his defenses. Her grip over her weapon tightened as the older man gave her a once-over... Her back arches just a bit as he visually weighs her leather-encased mounds... Her eyes narrowed the slightest bit, a dangerous smolder she desperately tried to pass off as predatory - but it could come across as a prey fawning. All of these things the Vixen recognized within herself, tried to keep it under wraps, long enough to show her target - everyone that she was to be taken seriously...
Spoiler: Intimidation Roll D100: 22+10 (Gunfire)-10 (Previous Failed Attempt) https://www.rolldicewithfriends.com/rooms/coldwarrpg Andropov flinches as he hears the crack of a bullet past his head, the breeze disturbing his well-coifed hair before the bullet lands in the opposite wall with a thump. After a moment, though, he straightens, chuckling. "I don't doubt it, comrade. I'm sure you're well trained and can end a man's life as easily as you breathe." His gaze returns to her body. "But not every death is equal. Did your masters tell you the Nazis caught me once? Compared to that, this is comical." He laughs, before taking a step forward. "When the train to Poland got derailed, I made a promise to myself that I wouldn't waste a day of life." "I was like you once. All patriotic. A model socialist. But then I spent 40 years shuffling money - our money - around for degenerates in the politburo." His gaze grows more intense as he takes another step towards her. "Dachas, art, women, investments in the West. I moved it all around for our great leaders. And I learned that anyone who doesn't take a taste for himself is an idiot. Socialism, capitalism - none of it matters. There are only people who enjoy their lives, and the fools who don't." He takes another step, closing the distance quite quickly if she doesn't back up. "You want to shoot me? Fine - I should have died far worse, long ago. You want the microfiche? Take it - my clients can't hurt me when I'm dead. But if I'm dying, I'm dying..." He looks her in the eyes, hungry. "...Happy."
Olena didn't shoot again - she took a step back, then another. By the time she realized she was giving up too much ground, her back had met the wall and the muzzle of her pistol met Andropov's chest, over his heart. It would be just as quick a death as if she had shot him in the head as soon as he entered the room. It would be easy to dress him up for his friends and family at his funeral, at least... Even at such close range and with such a certainty to kill him, the Vixen's naiveté (and daddy issues) shown through. "... You're not my primary objective, comrade. Tell me how to disable the alarm and you can disappear - find a beach and a bitch and die like we all wish we could." Olena's voice came out in a quiet whisper. If she spoke any louder, the inflating of her lungs might cause her nipples to drag along the inside of her already tight bodysuit, then there would be nothing stopping her from putting her gun away and taking Andropov's gun out. Her back was still arched, both with stress and lust, and her thighs pressed together as she tried to ignore the feeling of sensual warmth between her legs.
"That's a nice image. If you want to let me live, that's up to you. But I'm the kind of man who, when he sees something he wants, can't stop thinking about it until he gets it. If you want that box open, I think you know my price." He reaches out with both his arms, planting his hands against the wall to either side of her, trapping her there with him, gun notwithstanding. His look is predatory, staring at her face and her cleavage with knowing lust. He slides one hand, bringing his fingers to ever so lightly graze her cheek. "Put the gun away, my dear. You know, you really are quite beautiful."
Olena hesitated for a moment. Andropov was still dangerous, could still call for help. By himself, he probably wasn't a threat, and yet... "When he sees sees something he wants... He gets it," echoed in the redhead's mind, with no question as to what "it" was. Her knees shuddered, growing weaker as an invisible weight descends on her shoulders. It wasn't the slutty maids that had caused her to walk out of the shadows. It wasn't the muscular guards who had pressed her against the wall. It wasn't Lyudmila's voluptuous excess or the slender woman's grace that caused her to lower her weapon... Perhaps it was none of those things or some combination of every one of them. But there was no denying that the Vixen's resolve had failed as she submits to Andropov's iron will, tilting her head in tune with Andropov's wandering fingers, and sinks to her knees with a horny whimper. "Yes, sir~," Olena obediently and huskily whispered, her rural Ukrainian accent slipping out at the familiar sensation of demonstrating subservience to a man. It was a lengthy and difficult process to get through the KGB's training without revealing just how deliciously vulnerable the farmer's- daddy's girl she was. The Vixen's mouth fell agape with a passionate sigh followed by light, aroused panting as her body seemed to realize she had succumbed to her baser instincts at last. She put her weight on her legs as she naturally spread them wide (a technique that did not require much training during her seduction training), thighs thick with fat and muscle in equal measure widening as they were compressed between her derriere and her legs. Her back remained arched the entire way down, ensuring the tight leather material caressed and held her chest in place, the slightest protrusions revealing both how skintight her apparel was and where her nipples were. For Olena, that seemed to be enough getting her ready. Her gloved hands fell upon Andropov's belt and trousers, her head tilted back and her eyes hooded with arousal and smoldering with submissive intent as she steadily began to fish the older man's cock... Lost to his presence, for now at least.
"Good girl" He says, switching to Ukrainian - maybe sensing her daddy issues through how ready she was to submit, or perhaps it's just regular old dirty talk for him - either way, it's exactly the right thing to say, her body burning as her fingers move, shaking slightly. His cock springs out as she undoes his pants, a thick, meaty thing of seven or eight inches - not the biggest she's had, but more than enough with how turned on she already is. He gazes down into her eyes, sitting on a nearby couch, watching her as she begins to please him. "Mmm, my dear..." His voice coos, soft and deep like the purr of a cat who's got the cream. "What a good girl you are indeed..."
(Oh, this is a great post!) Windigo hummed as he felt warm lips wrap around his length, tity flesh squeezing his dick from the sides. Oh, Olivia just got little farther from the top spot on replacement list~ Smart girl. Through, he did not appreciate the tone. He started checking the list - he doubted that one of the boxes would be the responsible party, but he could not exclude it. This avenue he would leave for later. Nadine... He remembered her alright. She witnessed many things he done with his enemies and once she tried them, she realised she enjoyed the rush. He considered recruiting her into the core of his group, but the woman was to unstable. He enjoyed those little games, but not when it endangered mission. Nadine was adrenaline junkie. She also would be a person to start... But before that, he had a place to check - Vargas's safehouse. This was were he would begin. He checked the documents one more time, making sure he lost nothing. Then started planning. Blue Dancer and Biscuit would go with him to check the apartment. Whisper for overwatch... Maybe Razor as well, he should start training the kitten. "You are loosing your touch, Olivia." He teased the woman as he pulled her to standing position, turned her around and pushed against the desk. He pulled down her thongs, and slid his dick into her pussy.
(Thanks so much!) "Then I shall reclaim it, my lord..." Olivia breathes as he pulls her to her feet. The form of address had been his idea - when he first broke her, he'd forced her to say the words, an insult to her noble heritage, making the haughty noble bitch acknowledge him as her superior. He's long since stopped demanding she say it, but despite her best efforts, it still slips out now and again when she's turned on. Alistair hears that posh voice sound again, moans of pleasure filling his office as he begins to fuck her. Despite her long sexual history, her cunt clings tightly to his well aged rod, sweat pouring down her body as she begins to lose herself. He doesn't need to say anything as he pulls out of her and lies back on the desk himself, the Englishwoman climbing atop him, furiously slamming her hips down upon him, fucking him in a frenzy. Her voice grows more strained, and he feels her shake against him as she cums.
