 | A little red light flashed, followed by one of the world's most annoying sounds. The alarm clock. A slender hand reached over and dutifully smashed down onto the clock, shutting off the steady "beep beep", but probably breaking a few of its internal pieces as well. Another day in the grinder, Sam thought. He sat up and looked at the calendar on next to the clock. Rent day, and Sam didn't have any cash at the moment. No matter, landlord wouldn't be by for another couple of hours to collect the money, and he had a job today so he wouldn't be around till late, when he could slip the cash under the landlord's door. "The way it usually worked," Sam thought idly as he stepped out of the shower, "Go until rent is due to get a job, then turn it in just before mid of night." Sam laughed. It was good to be working with for the team. He looked over at the clock and grimaced as a blank face greeted him. He really wasn't a morning person. Grabbing his watch he left unhurried out the door. He was on time, for once, so no need to rush. He might even stop and eat something before the job. | Personality: Sam sat down at the cafe. He hated the place, didn't have tea, and he hated coffee. But they had some damn good biscuits and gravy, so he ate breakfast there, when he ate breakfast at all. The waitress was cute too, but that hardly mattered to him. He ate quickly and then left, paid with a credit card. It was a fake, but when they found out, it'd be a fellow that lived in uptown that'd get pinned for the fraud. Set up perfectly, the fellow even ate at this cafe from time to time. Sam smiled, the man had cheated him on a job. The least he could do was buy him a good breakfast before a job, and a cab drive Uptown. |
 | | Strength: | Standard Normal human strength. | Agility: | Superior This fighter can dodge, weave and move
with the grace of an Olympic gymnast. | | Body: | Weak BELOW normal human endurance.
Goes down easy and stays there. | Mind: | Superior Highly educated and ingenious.
A smart cookie. |
 | Spy Games |
Covert Intelligence isn't always what it's cracked up to be, but Sam loved it. He loved his toys. A multitude of minor, small, hard-to-detect listening devices. Sam shoved a suitcase of them onto the side of the cab seat next to him. They were actually some small cams in there as well. All rigged into a central bank. Individually they would catch a word or two. Or three. An important phrase now and then. When smothering an entire building... Well, he'd never had to cover an entire building. Even if he had, he'd have to tie them into the Companies Databank if he did. Whether they were his current employer or not. That was how he would have to process the information. Couldn't afford the computers needed to do that in his hovel and keep it looking like a hovel. He looked up at a tall imposing building as he stepped out of the cab. Corporate Headquarters of Grim Towers Inc.
 | Spy Games |
Inside the reception lobby Sam was greeted with the cool formality that was professional indifference. Smiling at the young lady that was sitting behind the desk he whispered a couple of things to her, flirting with a god-given grace. She ignored him, other than to tell him that she would inform him when the Director was ready to see him, and to take a seat. As he walked away he gently taped her computer, placing a small bug on it, so as to warn him if there would be any threat to his person while he was in the building. Standard procedure. Didn't always work. Didn't always work in time. But it helped sometimes.
 | Spy Games |
- Power: Illusion Creation
- Level:Superior
- Auto-Hit This mental attack hits the target automatically, but may or may not effect them.
Walking out of the elevator Sam planted a small pressure-pad on the button for that floor, and quickly disguised it to look like the normal button. A special skill of his. He could quickly make any of his toys look like just about anything. That was why he was the best at covert operations for the Company. In and out and everybody knew, but nobody thought him but a poor man from the new slum of industrial sector, with an above average IQ. He could extend this skill to himself. No one knew his real face, that's why he was never caught. Even he forgot what he looked like now and then. He walked into the Director's office.
 | Spy Games |
He spoke to the Director for maybe half an hour. During which time, the inevitable time when the interviewer would decide Sam just wasn't what he was looking for would happen, and a look would cross over the Director's face, as he excused himself for a minute to "check some records" or some other such. Sam wasn't paying attention. The second he was out of the room, Sam walked over to a potted plant over in one corner and added a nice little package. Infrared camera. A sweet little piece of work. Gifted to him by another company he had the fortune of doing recon on. He of course, would have it back in a week when he can back for another interview, or, another person with highly qualified credentials would come in. The Director came back in the room and smiled. Standard speech. Always boring, Sam hated it. They'd call etc etc. All lies, but curtiesly avoided hostilities.
 | Far Sight |
Sam walked out of the very tall and imposing Tower. A rather beautiful building. Tall, blank, imposing, and if he got sent in on a real job a lot of technical goodies. Sam walked down the street and into Industrial towards the restaurant he where he had lunch at. He saw a can off in the distance and threw a rock at it. Easy shot, he knew, but he was bored now. Oh well, practice makes perfect is what they said. Sam didn't buy it, but then, he practice anyway, so he didn't care.
 | Bloodletter |
- Power: Projectile Attack
- Level:Standard
- Ranged and Melee Attack! Attack is equally effective at range and up close.
Sam walked back into his apartment building. Inside he immediately noticed something was wrong. His door was unlatched. He cursed, softly and pulled out Bloodletter, a small hand gun, easily concealed inside of a boot, or shirt sleeve, but none the less deadly. Cocking the gun he swung the door open and aimed. Land lord. Would serve him right if he blew his damned head off right there.
 | Trouble |
Sam dived out the door in a gentle roll and ran down the hall. Wouldn't do to let the landie know that he was packing heat. Besides, if he heard rapid footsteps he'd think it was a thief and he'd get the hall out of his place. As he passed the landie's room he slipped an envelope under the door with his name and the cash for next months rent underneath and then crept around the long way and back to his apartment. He found the door closed and locked. Another long damn day. He'd take a break tomorrow. The library sounded like a nice place to spend the day.
 | Background |
Sam walked over to his desk as he continued to ponder what books he would read tomorrow at the library when he noticed an envelope laying there. A plain, white envelope. Nothing worth note about it. Other than who had sent it. WeaverTech Etc. WTE. The Company. He sighed and opened it, feeling regret for the library he wouldn't be able to visit in the morning. Another job. Oh well, this would be a fun one. Pure Black. One of the darkest of operations. No disguises this time. He unfolded the blueprints and the small piece of paper with the mission objective. Seek and destroy. Well, looks like he'd be getting to practice his marksmanship after all.
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| Dead Sky |
- Power: Projectile Attack
- Level:Superior
- Seeker This attack hunts and follows its target.
- Ranged Attack Attack usable at a distance (only).
- Armor Piercing This attack ignores normal defenses which are not Reinforced.
Sam sat on the window ledge, staring out over the endless sea of lights that made up uptown. He sat, and waited. It wasn't time yet. But, his target would be there in an half an hour or so, and in the meantime, it was a rather pretty view. Dead Sky, his Sniper Rifle was set up the next window over. Sam stood up and walked to the small, camping chair he brought with him and sat down to think. This was a good job. Company wanted someone offed, and they always payed very well for that. Very well indeed. Maybe well enough that he could take a vacation. Or not. The small clock on the floor chimed and he stood up and looked through Dead Sky's scope, and there was his target, right on time.
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