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My name is Nikita. Seven years ago, I was taken off Death Row and forced to be an assassin for an elite, covert ops unit of the U.S. government. They called it a second chance, a chance to right the wrongs I'd done. They lied. Four years ago, I got away and started over for real. I became a ghost, living off the grid, and striking from the shadows with my allies. The tide was turning, we had them against the ropes, but then they caught me and dropped me here, on a tropical island purgatory I can't leave or inside my mind. And they've been hunting me. Everyone says today's the day it all goes down. If we can just make it through til tomorrow, the nightmares will stop. Maybe they're right. But if this is Division, if this is Amanda, they made one fatal mistake. They gave me someone to fight for, they gave me Alex and Jason. And now they're screwed...
At first light, Nikita and Alex move out from their extremely well protected hut. They have the ancient pistols they've managed to scavenge from Rapture, the knives, and Nikita has Michael's knife. They hide in the trees, low on intel, unsure what to believe, but trusting what they've picked up from ITF chatter and island-wide notices.
They don't have long to wait. The first group of Division agents hit the perimeter ground wire before the curve of the sun breaks the horizon. There are three of them that get roasted in the fires of impromptu Molotov cocktails. Alex cocks her head, lifting an eyebrow to ask if they should go down and kick the weapons out of the fire.
As much as Nikita wants to, there were three. Standard first deployment team from Division, Amanda, Gogol's going to be at least six. She shakes her head and mouths, 'We wait'. The next three come to strip their fallen fellows of their weapons, shooting the two that have a few breaths remaining to end their pain.
They advance on the second circle of Nikita's defenses, careful. They've been warned. Nikita is their bogeyman. The one who got away. The one who always gets away. Nothing could've prepared them for a Nikita gone guerilla, though, not with Alex at her side and Alex to protect. One, by one, by one, they step into beautifully hidden traps and end up upside down in hemp nets.
There will be more, but not until these fail to report in. Nikita nods to Alex and they drop from the trees, avoiding errant gunfire, and show no mercy in snapping the necks of the two men and one woman who've come to kill them. No mercy, no hesitation, and they waste no time in stripping them of every useful bit of weaponry and technology, trading their island clothes for lightweight black Kevlar, tac vests, weapons, and boots.
In silence, they wire the door of the hut with a spring-mounted automatic and pray today's not the day that someone who isn't Jason or Cassandra decides to come looking for them. Jason will see the signs. They will know not to come any closer. They will know that if the grass is scorched, Nikita is not inside.
The plan all along has been to lead any pursuit out to dinosaur territory where they can get some help picking off the teams from the local fauna. It's a good plan, but they pick up radio chatter mixed English and Russian. Nikita can't tell if it's Amanda and Ari's people or Division, yet, but they're talking about taking hostages. About the island innocents. About having a bead on 'Nikita's little band of merry idiots'.
It's got Amanda written all over it, and even though they know it's a trap, even though Michael's dead by Brandt's hand, or Division's if what she's overheard is true... even though Birkhoff, Michael, Ryan, Sean, Owen, Alex are all dead according to what she heard in the days before Alex arrived, there's nothing else they can do. That kind of loyalty can't be bought, it can't be twisted, it can't be turned. Nikita won't leave them, dead or alive.
They agree to stay in contact by radio and that the first one who finds Jason gives him an extra radio and reads him in. It's not Nikita's favorite plan, but even on an island this small, without Birkhoff QBing, they have to split up. "I will see you when this is all over," she tells Alex, hugs her hard, and then sprints off before she can doubt her own words.
Six down, Amanda's Gogol-fluffed Division to go and it's not even five a.m.
[ooc: the final thread of this is locked to Nikita, Alex, and Jason and will take place in Division in dinosaur territory. Until then, feel free to encounter black-clad extremely well-trained Russian and English speaking assassins and/or Nikita anywhere else on the island. Note: warning for violence, murder, killing, death, but probably no torture or anything especially gruesome.]
At first light, Nikita and Alex move out from their extremely well protected hut. They have the ancient pistols they've managed to scavenge from Rapture, the knives, and Nikita has Michael's knife. They hide in the trees, low on intel, unsure what to believe, but trusting what they've picked up from ITF chatter and island-wide notices.
They don't have long to wait. The first group of Division agents hit the perimeter ground wire before the curve of the sun breaks the horizon. There are three of them that get roasted in the fires of impromptu Molotov cocktails. Alex cocks her head, lifting an eyebrow to ask if they should go down and kick the weapons out of the fire.
As much as Nikita wants to, there were three. Standard first deployment team from Division, Amanda, Gogol's going to be at least six. She shakes her head and mouths, 'We wait'. The next three come to strip their fallen fellows of their weapons, shooting the two that have a few breaths remaining to end their pain.
They advance on the second circle of Nikita's defenses, careful. They've been warned. Nikita is their bogeyman. The one who got away. The one who always gets away. Nothing could've prepared them for a Nikita gone guerilla, though, not with Alex at her side and Alex to protect. One, by one, by one, they step into beautifully hidden traps and end up upside down in hemp nets.
There will be more, but not until these fail to report in. Nikita nods to Alex and they drop from the trees, avoiding errant gunfire, and show no mercy in snapping the necks of the two men and one woman who've come to kill them. No mercy, no hesitation, and they waste no time in stripping them of every useful bit of weaponry and technology, trading their island clothes for lightweight black Kevlar, tac vests, weapons, and boots.
In silence, they wire the door of the hut with a spring-mounted automatic and pray today's not the day that someone who isn't Jason or Cassandra decides to come looking for them. Jason will see the signs. They will know not to come any closer. They will know that if the grass is scorched, Nikita is not inside.
The plan all along has been to lead any pursuit out to dinosaur territory where they can get some help picking off the teams from the local fauna. It's a good plan, but they pick up radio chatter mixed English and Russian. Nikita can't tell if it's Amanda and Ari's people or Division, yet, but they're talking about taking hostages. About the island innocents. About having a bead on 'Nikita's little band of merry idiots'.
It's got Amanda written all over it, and even though they know it's a trap, even though Michael's dead by Brandt's hand, or Division's if what she's overheard is true... even though Birkhoff, Michael, Ryan, Sean, Owen, Alex are all dead according to what she heard in the days before Alex arrived, there's nothing else they can do. That kind of loyalty can't be bought, it can't be twisted, it can't be turned. Nikita won't leave them, dead or alive.
They agree to stay in contact by radio and that the first one who finds Jason gives him an extra radio and reads him in. It's not Nikita's favorite plan, but even on an island this small, without Birkhoff QBing, they have to split up. "I will see you when this is all over," she tells Alex, hugs her hard, and then sprints off before she can doubt her own words.
Six down, Amanda's Gogol-fluffed Division to go and it's not even five a.m.
[ooc: the final thread of this is locked to Nikita, Alex, and Jason and will take place in Division in dinosaur territory. Until then, feel free to encounter black-clad extremely well-trained Russian and English speaking assassins and/or Nikita anywhere else on the island. Note: warning for violence, murder, killing, death, but probably no torture or anything especially gruesome.]
no subject
Date: 2012-12-12 11:08 pm (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2012-12-12 11:21 pm (UTC)From:And Nikita won't. There's nothing they can do to her to make her recant. Division's a cancer. It has to be eradicated. Percy, Amanda, Ari and Gogol, they all need to go down, hard.
"They know I'm not alone out here, so you need to stay sharp." Because there's nothing they can do to her that will make her recant, but they all know by now, you don't hurt Nikita by hurting Nikita. You hurt Nikita by hurting the people she loves. "Keep your heads down. I'm counting on you to get me out if it doesn't go down the way I plan."
She looks at each of them, a good long look, no just in case, but she wants their faces fresh in her mind, in case she forgets why she's doing this when the blows start falling. "Are we good?"
no subject
Date: 2012-12-12 11:54 pm (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2012-12-13 10:37 pm (UTC)From:When she asks Jason, "Do you speak Russian?" the question might seem like it comes out of nowhere, but Alex needs to know. At least half the comm chatter has been in Russian, not English, and while Alex trusts Nikita not to bring him into this fight if he can't handle it, better to ask now than find out too late an assumption's bit them on the ass.
no subject
Date: 2012-12-21 01:58 am (UTC)From:But.
"Russian's not safe, babochka. We've got no idea how long Amanda's been working with Ari, and Russian's in the standard field ops training package anyway." She hates over-riding Alex's instincts, and normally she wouldn't, but if they're going to survive today, she can't take any extra chances. Not with their lives. "Use Mandarin."
And just like that, in a way Jason's probably used to from his 'family' and Alex is from Nikita-on-a-mission, she's off, trotting ahead into the jungle toward the last place in the universe she wants to be. They know what to do, and she has to trust them now to do it.
The first signs are the bodies. Not Division bodies, but civilians. They're faces she recognizes from around the island, but there's no time to identify them, to grieve, to apologize. Tomorrow's going to have to be soon enough for goodbyes and apologies. If...
No ifs, no ifs, Nikita, you know that. If you start thinking in ifs, you're dead already. The only way to be invincible is to believe it. Which is why, when she fakes being "found" a half an hour later in clear sight of the entrance tunnel to "Division", the only thing she says, loud enough for both her partners to hear is, "My name is Nikita, and you have one chance to save your own lives."
It doesn't work. It never does. One of the soldiers tells her to shut up, in Russian, and knocks her in the back of a head with a rifle butt. She's unconscious before she hits the ground.
no subject
Date: 2012-12-21 09:03 pm (UTC)From:"Mandarin, then if we have to talk," she says once Nikita's moved off toward Division HQ. "But with Russian ears on them." A tip of her head suggests let's go, and she's all business. "Every one we draw out and put down is one less that can touch her, right?"