xp_logs | REMY'S ELEVEN: So We Give You The Fix

They's totalled a casino. Can they make it out with everyone intact?

"Alright sport. Here's your big moment. Just walk in, give him the
key, and get my fucking money. As soon as it's secure, Mr Chambers and
his men will move in." Arcade said to Remy, who scowled.

"That's not going to be a big help to me when I'm dead."

"Relax. We'll get there quick. Plus," Arcade leaned in. "I still don't
know how much I trust you. Your appearance is a little too convenient,
Eammon, and this way, if you are involved in the theft, this will make
you highly motivated to undo the damage. I never trust a good thing."

"Cheers, Jacob. I expect a bloody big check from this." Remy said,
getting out of the giant SUV. He turned up his coat, and walked
through the parking lot and into the front doors of the warehouse. It
was open and lit by track lights, half of them broken or sputtering
erratically. In the far end of the room was an untidy pile of duffel
bags; the very ones that they'd used to steal Arcade's money. Close to
him was a small side table. Remy smiled faintly as he heard Arcade's
whispered instructions in the earpiece he was wearing.

"Go slow, scooter. Just go slow." Remy ignored the tiny voice, reached
into his pocket, and set the encryption key on the table. Haroun stood
in the shadows, watching Remy approach and lay the encryption key down
on the table. He stepped into the light, dressed all in black fatigues
with a kaffiyeh wrapped around his head and face, obscuring his
features. He also raised his HK MP5 SMG so that the business end was
pointed right at Remy's solar plexus. "Filthy human dog." he snarled,
motioning with the weapon for Remy to back off. "Now we complete the
deal." he said after Remy had taken a few steps back, unzipping one of
the bags to reveal an untidy pile of neatly-wrapped $100 bills. "Do
you wish to count it?" he sneered. The key he left on the table for
the time being.

"No. That looks like it fits the money sized hole in my employer's
vault." Remy said, watching the slight twinkle in Haroun's eyes at his
Irish accent. The other man had found it hilarious for some reason,
and Remy smirked in recognition. "Guess Magneto will have to go back
to clipping coupons while he plots his world domination."

"Then we are agreed, dog?" he said harshly. It was easy for him, too
easy really, to fall back into old modes of operation. This was no
different than a dozen meetings just like this that he had done
before. "Time grows short."

"Alright. The cash is good." He clicked the little 'signal' that
Arcade had provided him, to show the money was safe. Chamber's men
would be starting to prep for the entry. "So, tell me. Being a genetic
freak hard, especially after already starting out at the bottom of the
shitheap as a fucking sand nigger?"

Haroun very nearly broke his cover by breaking into a wide grin. "I am
sure your mother ponders that question every night when she sucks off
camels to earn her daily bread." he retorted, weirdly enjoying the
byplay. "Pathetic humans, struggling against the next wave of human
development. You cannot resist the will of God." he said piously. "The
coming storm will wash away human corruption, human greed, human
misery and leave only mutant paradise." He really shouldn't paraphrase
the mullahs like that, but they made it so _easy_...

"With people like you in charge? Yeah, it takes an entire fucking clan
of you ragheads to run a video store. I seriously doubt all
ass-fucking from Allah himself is going to make you genejokes bright
enough to make the next step." Remy reached down to grab one of the
bags. "At least you've always got the Jews to work for."

Haroun smiled thinly, raised his MP5, and opened fire. He took great
delight in the wargasm Remy's body went through as the bullets ripped
through him, spinning his body to the floor in a spray of blood and
aerosolized bone. "I would rather be human than work for a Jew." He
said with very obvious disgust. He stepped to the table, automatically
reloading his weapon as he walked, and tucked the encryption key into
an pocket of his fatigues.

"Fuck." Arcade hissed as the sound of gunfire carried over his com.
Chambers was already out of the car, gun in hand, and his small
security team formed around Arcade as he joined them. They started
towards the warehouse, only to pull up short as the wails of sirens
cut the night air.

They hadn't had nearly enough time to practice this. Nathan had been
forced to settle for a reasonable facsimile of storming the building,
and he tried not to grind his teeth as the kids carried it out with
enough small flaws to be damned noticeable to anyone who was looking
for them. Which, hopefully, Arcade wouldn't be.

He looked up in time to see Haroun blast through the roof and away.
Good man, he thought.

Arcade stopped as the men stormed the building, watching them go
through the doors with MP5s at ready. Most were in quick response
gear; coveralls, flak vests, and full face protectors. A part of his
mind noticed they seemed to be shorter than average, but that was lost
in the other concerns. A big man in an FBI windbreaker seemed to be in
charge, and Jacob made a beeline for him.

Showtime. Nathan turned to meet him, keeping his expression
neutral. "Mr Lowenstein, I presume," he said coolly. "Agent Morrow,
FBI."

"Agent." Arcade nodded. As a major political donor, Lowenstein had a
lot of sway in Las Vegas, and a cordial relationship with the local
FBI field office. Behind him, Arcade's team had quietly holstered
their weapons. "One of my employees is in that building."

"Your employee," Nathan said, "is actually Special Agent Riley of the
ATF." His radio crackled, and he lifted it to take Wanda's report from
inside, allowing his expression to turn bleak as he turned back to
Arcade. "Was Special Agent Riley. He's dead."

"Special Agent--" Arcade said, stunned. "That's not possible. Scooter
was an--" He forced himself to shut up for a moment. An agent was
poking around his casino, and had shot a girl between the eyes. Had
Riley gone dirty or was he setting Arcade up for something?

Nathan gave Arcade a carefully measured assessing look. See the
wheels in my head turning, you little bastard... that's right, you can
start getting nervous now. "We're going to need to figure out
precisely what happened, sir," he said, firmly but respectfully. "The
death of an agent... I'm sure you can understand that. If your casino
was involved, I'm going to have to order a full investigation of the
relevant scenes."

"Agent Morrow is it?" Arcade said, cutting off his anger and forcing
his normally infectious smile. "If Agent Riley was working on a case,
it really doesn't need to involve my casino." Especially not with a
blood soaked office and a dead body in it, he thought. "The money that
was stolen is inside, and if that's recovered, well, I'm not inclined
to press charges on anyone."

Gotcha. Nathan raised his radio. "Agent Maxwell," he said,
using Wanda's alias. "Are you seeing a large amount of money in
there?" He waited for her affirmative, then nodded to himself. "Bring
it out," he ordered, and then turned back to Arcade. "I trust you've
got serial numbers recorded, sir?"

Arcade snapped his fingers and Chambers came forward. "Mr Chambers,
can you phone Ms Locke and have her forward the serial lists from the
vault to my mobile." He turned back to Nathan. "If they match, I'd be
happy to take the money back. An investigation would drive up my
insurance, and I'd hate to add to your own case load."

Nathan flattered himself that he was a fairly decent actor. He looked
at the warehouse, almost speculatively, frowning a little as if
something had just occurred to him, then letting his expression settle
into a certain wary acceptance. "That would certainly simplify
things," he said, then smiled very slightly at the man. "Let's see if
we can't do that. I have the strong suspicion that Agent Riley's
actions are going to be... problematic enough for the ATF that they
would appreciate if one of our most prominent citizens wasn't
dragged further into the mess."

"Agent Morrow, that's exactly what I was thinking." Arxade clasped a
hand on Nathan's arm and removed it. "We'll just get out of your hair,
and let you focus on the real issues here."

Wanda and one of the others - Doug, he thought - were bringing out
duffel bags which he assumed held the money. "Here we are," Nathan
said, looking around for Chambers. "Where's your man with the lists?"

Jacob waved forward Chambers, who passed the mobile into Nathan's
hands. "I'm sure that we can quickly clear up this difficulty, Agent
Morrow."

"Let me see a few of those stacks, Maxwell," Nathan said to Wanda, who
handed over perhaps four of the bundles of $100 bills. Nathan checked
the serial numbers on each stack in turn, matching them to the mobile.
"Good," he said, handing them back to her. "Perfect matches - I think
we can see those back to Mr. Lowenstein here and let him be on his way
while we secure the rest of the scene."

"Agent Morrow, drop by the Excelsior some night. We'd love to show you
our appreciation." Arcade said. Inside, he was trembling. This agent
could cost him hundreds of millions if he wanted to, but fortunately
the big dumb bastard seemed to want to avoid paperwork.

"Just doing my job, sir." Nathan jerked his head at Wanda and Doug,
who handed the bags over to Arcade's men. "Can we offer you an escort
back to your hotel?" he asked, just to turn the screws a little.

"No! No, I think I've got enough support here." Arcade said
hastely."Thank you for your time, agent." He turned and hustled his
men back into the cars with remarkable speed.

Nathan kept his face deliberately blank as he watched them go. "Well,
folks," he said, not absolutely sure whether there might not be
someone still watching, somewhere, "let's get moving. We've got a
corpse to secure, don't we?"