OPERATION: SALT THE EARTH - Log 10
Mar. 7th, 2018 09:35 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
xp_changeling posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
xp_logsEmma and North make their way into VECTOR as well.
Once their car passed the initial gate leading into VECTOR, they were committed. Both felt the passage into the range of the suppression system like a physical blow, as their awareness was now limited to themselves and the here and now. If things went wrong, it was only their skills and their wits that could help them now.
"Alina Petrovich," said Emma, softly, rehearsing her cover identity again. She continued in fluent Russian, "Microbiologist, linguist, trusted agent of the KGB. Born in Minsk to public servants of impeccable loyalty and record. I normally work on issues relating to the Baltic states, but was called in to this meeting as it was suggested my PhD in microbiology might prove to be useful, particularly if Belarus wishes to further its ties with Mother Russia."
North guided the car into a lot a uniformed guard waved them into and he took a moment to give his head a hard shake to ease the stinging emptiness in his brain. He double checked his pocket for the photo identification that pronounced him as one Matvei Volkov, microbiology engineer, as he shut the engine off with a friendly smile for his companion. "Very good, Dr Petrovich. Shall we make our way in?"
“Of course,” murmured Emma in response, smoothing down the front of her black skirt, which clung to her curves nearly as tightly as the crimson shirt did to her breasts, the buttons undone to the point where a sufficiently interested person who devoted attention to the task would be able to glimpse her lingerie. The colours she was wearing were nothing like those Emma normally dressed in, but she didn’t think that having a cover identity meant you had to discard long-proven tactics. She opened the car door, sliding a long leg out, stilettoed boot heel tapping on the ground. The sinuous grace with which she uncurled from the car was a conscious decision. Alina Petrovich wanted people to underestimate her intelligence and was well aware that the easiest path to that goal was to provoke their desire.
Amusement at her actions was portrayed perceptible admiration as North took the easiest path of portraying his character of a not quite brilliant but well to do middle-aged scientist with connections in the right places. A guard approached with a clipboard and he held out his ID before it was requested for. "I am Dr Volkov. We are here for a meeting?"
"Identific-" The guard looked up from his clipboard and lost his train of thought for a moment with Emma on full display. "Uh... identification?"
Emma drew herself up to her full height, which, in her heels, was really rather impressive. It also meant that the strain on her shirt increased to the point where the buttons seemed in genuine danger of launching themselves at considerable velocity at the guard. He was saved from what probably would have been a very happy death as Emma exhaled and allowed her shirt to relax slightly. She nearly murdered him again, however, as she reached into her cleavage and fished her laminated credentials out and moved them in the general direction of the guard.
The guard appeared to undertake a close inspection of the ID, although both Emma and North knew that his eyes didn't, at any point, move away from staring at Emma's décolletage. Eventually the guard leaned backwards and his voice was just slightly hoarse as he said, "Thank you, Dr Petrovich. Dr... er... Volkov? Please go to Building 23 and sign in there. You will be assigned your accommodation there."
Emma's nod was curt and her eyes scanned where the guard was pointing and picked out Building 23. "Thank you," she replied, and strode in that direction, barely glancing at North to make sure he was following her.
Once their car passed the initial gate leading into VECTOR, they were committed. Both felt the passage into the range of the suppression system like a physical blow, as their awareness was now limited to themselves and the here and now. If things went wrong, it was only their skills and their wits that could help them now.
"Alina Petrovich," said Emma, softly, rehearsing her cover identity again. She continued in fluent Russian, "Microbiologist, linguist, trusted agent of the KGB. Born in Minsk to public servants of impeccable loyalty and record. I normally work on issues relating to the Baltic states, but was called in to this meeting as it was suggested my PhD in microbiology might prove to be useful, particularly if Belarus wishes to further its ties with Mother Russia."
North guided the car into a lot a uniformed guard waved them into and he took a moment to give his head a hard shake to ease the stinging emptiness in his brain. He double checked his pocket for the photo identification that pronounced him as one Matvei Volkov, microbiology engineer, as he shut the engine off with a friendly smile for his companion. "Very good, Dr Petrovich. Shall we make our way in?"
“Of course,” murmured Emma in response, smoothing down the front of her black skirt, which clung to her curves nearly as tightly as the crimson shirt did to her breasts, the buttons undone to the point where a sufficiently interested person who devoted attention to the task would be able to glimpse her lingerie. The colours she was wearing were nothing like those Emma normally dressed in, but she didn’t think that having a cover identity meant you had to discard long-proven tactics. She opened the car door, sliding a long leg out, stilettoed boot heel tapping on the ground. The sinuous grace with which she uncurled from the car was a conscious decision. Alina Petrovich wanted people to underestimate her intelligence and was well aware that the easiest path to that goal was to provoke their desire.
Amusement at her actions was portrayed perceptible admiration as North took the easiest path of portraying his character of a not quite brilliant but well to do middle-aged scientist with connections in the right places. A guard approached with a clipboard and he held out his ID before it was requested for. "I am Dr Volkov. We are here for a meeting?"
"Identific-" The guard looked up from his clipboard and lost his train of thought for a moment with Emma on full display. "Uh... identification?"
Emma drew herself up to her full height, which, in her heels, was really rather impressive. It also meant that the strain on her shirt increased to the point where the buttons seemed in genuine danger of launching themselves at considerable velocity at the guard. He was saved from what probably would have been a very happy death as Emma exhaled and allowed her shirt to relax slightly. She nearly murdered him again, however, as she reached into her cleavage and fished her laminated credentials out and moved them in the general direction of the guard.
The guard appeared to undertake a close inspection of the ID, although both Emma and North knew that his eyes didn't, at any point, move away from staring at Emma's décolletage. Eventually the guard leaned backwards and his voice was just slightly hoarse as he said, "Thank you, Dr Petrovich. Dr... er... Volkov? Please go to Building 23 and sign in there. You will be assigned your accommodation there."
Emma's nod was curt and her eyes scanned where the guard was pointing and picked out Building 23. "Thank you," she replied, and strode in that direction, barely glancing at North to make sure he was following her.
