A different Brotherhood.

The color red is one primary color that is in many a neon tube that glows in the streets of Amsterdam. Its streets filled with quite literally, a bit of everything. The drugs, the sex, the clubs and the gangs were all parts of their own separate scenes. However, outside the city, one would be able to see beautiful forests and centuries old castles. The dull red glow that came out of a certain castle was one that scared away many a tourist or trouble maker. The glow of red emanated from nearly every window except in the late hours of the night, and the early hours of the morning, where only a handful of such lights would be on. Past the beautiful gothic architecture and the modern twist of the red neon lights that accented the moat around the castle, the fountains at each corner, and in the windows, one would find another shocking, modern twist. The floors were constantly shined and a sharp obsidian color made up the hallways. In the front lobby where secretaries wore dark blue, revealing ‘suits’ and the lower-grade employee’s wore their turquoise uniforms, men awaited their meetings with cold drinks or hot coffee. They debated about the stocks; they debated about their wives, children, their cars. People came and left in flashy sports cars, limos, or simple sedans. For a castle, it bustled.

For the Tsunami Syndicate, it meant money. From his window, the head of the organization stared out and towards the skyline of Amsterdam, barely visible past the trees that were in the back areas of the castle grounds. Bishop turned his head, locks of his dirty blond hair covering his facial features. His piercing turquoise eyes stared at the door that made a sudden knocking sound. His uniform, unlike the ones of the more ‘public’ area of the castle, was all black with a gentle crimson trim. The scorpion’s tail was pinned on his left side of his collar, and small custom scorpion tail cufflinks were attached to his wrists. His suit was far from the standard ‘officers’ attire, as it seemed more professional and less militaristic.

“Come in.” Bishop stated. His voice was young, enthusiastic, but loud. It demanded and commanded the presence in the room that it was in- no matter which room. The door opened and his placid gaze and thin lips gave way to turn upwards at the corners- a small smile. He turned his entire body to face the door, his hands still tightly holding each other behind his back. “Top of the evening, Brother Lieutenant.”
The young lady that entered the room shut the door behind her with her right foot, her high heel gently pressing against the old, polished oak and shutting the door with a gentle click. Her left hand came up to push her spectacles up her nose before looking up to her commanding officer. Her hair was rather short for a young lady, with a splash of bright blond hair dye to give her a modern look that accented her beautiful facial features. The posture however, is what Bishop admired. She came into every room in a professional and tidy manner, and it reminded him every time as to why he hired her. She walked forward with a certain level of grace, and held out the small clipboard in her right hand. Bishop looked down and as he did took in the Brother Lieutenant’s uniform. A short, obsidian black skirt and black stockings made up her lower body. His eyes skipped up her black top, which was a short sleeved dress shirt. Pinned just above her left breast was the scorpion’s tail, and again on her left collar. Bishop gripped the clipboard, and with his thumb and index finger spun it to face him.

“The list for tonight?” Bishop asked, his eyes darting over the written information as his right hand pushed up his own spectacles.

“It most certainly is.” The Brother Lieutenant replied. “They will be here in roughly an hour, the cliental list for tonight has been filled out already- we’re booked for the next month.” Her voice was young, which matched her young looks. She couldn’t be more than twenty years old. She stood at nearly the exact same height as her commanding officer, and so they stared at each other eye to eye. He returned the clip board with a nod.

“Excellent work. Begin the monetary transfer for the last month’s profits to the Sarajevo account before our brothers arrive, understood Celeste?”

“Already underway, I checked off on it myself before entering this wing. The financial area is doing its job with much more precision since the last… Show of authority.”

Bishop entered the large room filled with long, thin desks filled with laptops and row after row of desktop computers. With his CZ-75 selective fire pistol drawn, the obsidian paint flashing in the artificial light of the room, he gave a quick shout.
“Atchung!” He yelled. The men piloting the computers turned. Some were barely fifteen years of age; others were showing balding heads and graying, thinning hair. “This department has, over the last several months, lost its set efficiency. I wanted this place worked twenty four hours, seven days a week. We have lost over 3 minutes in our transfer timing- it was crystal clear and set as stone those three months ago, it was done at Twelve AM local time. It is now being done as late as twelve o’ SIX.” He twirled the gun, placed it to the back of a teenage boy’s head. His acne was apparent, a smoke in his mouth, and a shocked look on his face that Brother Commander Bishop saw only due to the reflection in the flat-screen monitor. He pulled back the hammer, and without hesitation pulled the trigger. As he stared blankly forward- he could feel the flecks of blood coat his cuff, the monitor, and the desk. He holstered the pistol, and his thumb turned off a small black object that was projecting the digital Bluetooth keyboard. “Twelve AM. No later, and not before.”

Bishop grinned. “No need to remind me, Brother Lieutenant. It wasn’t fun. Time to man your post outside that door, Celeste. If I need you I’ll call for you- ring me when the Brother General arrives.”

“Yes, Brother-Commander.” Celeste bowed her head gently before pivoting on her foot, opening the oak door, and closing it behind her gently. Bishop spun back around to catch a glimpse of the skyline. Staring upwards, away from the distant city lights, he picked out familiar and foreign stars. His hand gently pushed open the window- the leather glove pressing up against the bullet proof glass. He took in a breath of slightly chilled summer air, and gave a sigh. “Tsunami… Our business…”

“…Is your pleasure.” The young woman said at the reception desk. “May I help you?”

“Appointment, Brother Bishop- now.” The voice was stern, also youthful. “He prides himself on his timing. Show me that you do as well.”

“Of course sir.” The young woman said with a soft smile. Her fingers pressed against the holographic keys that brought up the holographic monitor. She turned it to show to the man on the other side of the desk. “That room, twenty minutes time to the dot. Would you like a coffee or perhaps something else?”

“No, thank you. We will be in the room.” The owner of the voice took off his black beret, his thumb pressing up to, and stroking, the scorpion’s tail pinned on it. “I certainly hope the Brother Commander doesn’t keep us waiting.

C'est bien. YOu have a knack for writing stories. And a knack for making me want more, i wonder why this has no replys, big story ((for a forum)) -> But well written! :D

I am going to begin to start waiting for your comments Dale :) Thanks a lot for the comments. I was worried that that segment was too short, actualy.

:) Yay. This deserves so many more comments then it has. Bleugh. Damn lazy readers.

How long do you spend writing / editing the stories you write, they're written really well =D

**Takes Notes**

The above segment took about twenty minutes to possibly half an hour- I wanted to nail the character descriptions very well.

Seven minutes to go


Bishop looked through his drawers for... Nothing. He was stalling, looking for an excuse to keep his classical music playing in his office's sound system. He looked up to the holographic moniter, turned it so it faced him instead of away from him, and then turned on the Bluetooth digital keyboard. With a few key shortcuts he switched the song to Motzart's Fur Elise and wbegun his non-sensical drawer searchings. He picked out a few documents that might come in handy at the meeting, and five minutes before- on the dot, Celeste gave three knocks to the door. "Come in." Bishop said, slamming his desk shut while placing the files inside his case.

"Meeting in four minutes and forty five seconds, Brother." Celeste said, opening the door half way and poking her head through. Bishop nodded. Celeste left the door open for him, but placed herself back at her desk. A few moments later the door opened, Bishop closed it and walked past his Brother-Lieutenant. BIshop had his own reception room- a small coffee table, five seats, and Celeste sat behind a semi-circle oak desk with three holographic moniters, a Bluetooth digital keyboard, and a small head set rested beside a half-empty cup of tea that had probably been there for days. She never is good at cleaning her workspace Bishop thought as he opened the second door. He left the warm, carpeted rooms of his Office and Lounge and entered the black and red hallways of the Castle. Red neon tubes accented every three meters on the floor, and flourescent lighting at the ceiling lit the halls. Having three minutes, he walked the long way briskly- around the castle, avoiding the main entrance.


Three... Two... And one. He's la---

The door opened and Brother Commander Bishop sat at the head of the square table in his leather, throne like chair. He looked quickly at the roughly dozen other men that sat evenly spaced around the table. He brought his small leather case onto the table, slipped out a file folder, placed the case back beside him. "Placing bets on my timing yet, Brothers?" Bishop asked. There were a few amused looks, a small snicker was heard near the opposite end of the table. "I suppose not. There is always next time I suppose."

"Business matters, Brother Commander. Business." The Brother General on the exact opposite of the long wooden table said. Once again, the modern hallways and lounge gave way to a soft, 18th century feel. The room was frozen in time except for the men that sat in it, their uniforms black and red. The red and black scorpions they wore shined brightly in the light placed above them in soft, beautiful, expensive crystal form. "The Syndicate recently opened its newest businesses in..."

"Hongkong. Yes." Bishop finished. "Several locations, and one in South Korea. What with the blunder in the 1950's, they are still reeling from the lack of females in Asia. The services given by the Tsunami are appriciated."

"Prostitution." One of the elderly men said, with an edge of disgust. The Tsunami syndicate dealt with many things- Prostitution, expensive, high class drugs, and extortion. They owned and ran the most expensive, lavish, beautiful cabarets and brothels. They catered to only the richest, fanciest drug addicts and sex-addicted tycoons. Statesmen, Celebrities, Drug Barons, and other unmentionable (but of course wealthy) clientell. It was why the Brotherhood of NOD created and allowed such a thing to exist- it brought down the wealthy, it allowed the wealthy to be blackmailed, so when the time came they would be easily swayed.

"Ingenous." Bishop said. "Isn't it?" He flashed a white toothed smile, his spectacles sliding down his nose. His gloved hands were on the table, fingers interlaced as he gave the Brother Colonel a placid look. As quick as the smile was there, it was gone again. "Relax, Brother. This isn't to debate the businesses at hand, but to enjoy the money that is made from it. To spread it around to the Brotherhood, to acheive our One Vision. Our One Purpose. Yes?"

"Yes." The old man agreed, nodding his head before quieting down. He's too old for this new-age work. Brother Commander Bishop thought to himself as he flashed another small smile and sat back in his chair. His right arm dragged along the table, gripped a glass of Single Malt Whisky and dragged it silently along the table. He raised it to his lips, taking in some of the alcohol as he tacked on another thought: Too honorable for this. He'll have to be moved to a much more character-like position. Or dead. Either way...

Yay more :D

I like it, getting into this more now ^_^ -> Can't wait for more, as usual.

If you'd like to talk about my writings/writing in general my msn is kenneh@sympatico.ca or my AIM is Vampire Po :)

What happened to Brother Shut-the-Fuck-Up!?!?

Now, technically, you're...



GDI

Brother General Thanatos gently drummed his fingers on the table. Out of all of the men there, young and old, he was the one most plainly dressed. A Tee-Shirt made of a felt material, but still simply a Tee Shirt, was what he wore for upper attire, with the NOD Scorpion's Tail actualy sewn on his left breast. His berret was tilted sideways, also with the scorpion's tail. His gloveless hands folded after a moment of drumming, and his dress shoes began to click gently against the floor as his leg bounced. Thanatos was one of the youngest Generals in the Brotherhood, and very close to the inner circle. He had a small goatee that matched quite well his typical caucasian appearance. He stood a little over six feet, and seemed plain in every way, shape, and form physically. He took off his sunglasses, allowing his eyes to sting slightly from the crystal above. He opened his glasses case, placing the Rhimestone's in and taking his perscription glasses out. Brother Lieutenant Celeste had entered the room, and without saying a word placed a small, black clipboard down in front of the General before leaving without a trace.

Good girl. Good girl indeed. I can see why Bishop keeps her around Thanatos looked up and across the table at the Brother Commander, who had the entire table (aside from the Brother General, of course) Enthralled in his speech. Bishop moved from his seat, and began to pace his side of the room, using his hands slightly in his speaking. How wasted his words will truly be, soon...

Bishop stopped suddenly, eleven pairs of eyes set on him. He stopped under the highlight of the room; the landscape-like painting of Caine slaying his brother, Abel, was a few inches above Brother Commander Bishop's head. "You see, Brothers. Its all about the overall good for whom we have chosen to be good enough to protect. Not all can be catered to- no one has the resources, and never will. This is what we are Brothers- reaching out and touching those enlightening, and enlightened. We protect and cleanse those whom are worthy, and eradicate those who do not. If you came down to a choice, Brother-Gregory." He stopped, and stared at a middle aged man with a greying beard and spectacles sliding down his nose. "Had to make a choice between a bright, beautiful, artistic person and a dark, morbid, disgusting creature- who would you choose?"

"Is that even a question I need to answer, Bishop?" Was the man's response.

"Unfortunately we don't like morbid creatures in the Brotherhood, which is why Brother-Gregory is strictly resource-geared." Bishop said with an amused smile. A few chuckles passed around the table. Brother-General Thanatos stared annoyingly at the painting. How useless all of this truly is.

"The beautiful, artistic creature survives. We came down to a choice- A choice everybody has to make at one time in their life. The Artistic one may be hurt- devastated by the loss of life beside it. But it survives, lives on, grows in the Brotherhood." Bishop stopped his actions, shoving his hands into his pockets as the door opened. "Allow me to show you one such creature, Gentlemen. Good evening." Bishop exited as the doors opened. Thanatos stood up slightly, a single bead of sweat pouring down his temple The last page...! Thanatos flipped to the back, and in Celeste's handwriting was her instruction, given by Bishop. Great minds think alike- but he thinks too fast. Damnable Bishop! What are you doing?!



Brother-Lieutenant Celeste entered the room, wearing a small- tight fitting blazer to her bodice. It was edged with Crimson, and she stood where Brother-Commander Bishop's seat was. Silently, she withdrew from her blazer with both hands two Soviet PSS pistols- and began to unload. There were no screams- only the quick movement heard of chairs as men tried to move out of the way from the oncoming rounds. There was no noise except this- each gun was integrally silenced. She had fired off ten rounds- both pistols each with one bullet left. They stopped on Brother General Thanatos, who already had his Glock 22 out and aimed at Celeste. The blond haired woman pushed her rectangular spectacles back up to her blue optics, and gave a small wink. She twirled the two small pistols once, backwards, then holstered them in her blazer without speaking. She turned on her heel, a quick pivot- and she was gone. Two men in black uniforms, helmeted, came in and began to move chairs back for a line of men in black jumpsuits entering the room. The bodies would be disposed of cleanly, their locations unknown.

Brother General Thanatos in a fit of rage raised the Glock and fired a three round burst into one of the Cleaners' chests. Without making a sound, his body was zipped up as well. Damnation! This wasn't to happen for another six months, at least! I nearly shot that little pen-pusher. Is she a Blackhand member? Impossible... But that signature. That mark... He stared down at the clipboard, now slightly red with the blood of Brother-Gregory, who sat beside Thanatos. He ripped out all unnecessary pages except the last one- there, under Celeste's writing, was the mark of Kane himself.

Kane has signed off on the assassination plans of the entire European Council for NOD. "What the hell is going on?" Thanatos whispered.

Bien. Yay ^_^ Crofty is an addict to this storyline now :D

"My little loyalist..."

Bishop stared outwards at the skyline of Amsterdam, but stood on one of the many balconies. The warm air came from his left in gentle breezes. His glasses were off, and the city lights were just blur to his eyes. His hands rested on the hips of his Brother Lieutenant, and she leaned into him ever so slightly as she too stared outwards. All up her right arm was the smell of gun powder and blood. She had moved a little too close to one of the Brothers, and the splatter effect was a little closer than she had anticipated.
"Well, Brother Captain, its time to enroll you in some C-Q-B training." He squeezed her slightly, and she smiled slightly.
"I suppose that'll be needed, eh?" She said quietly. "I should change out of this and get this washed... Is the General still in the building?"
"Thanatos is going to want a good explination from me. I'll make sure he doesn't bother you." He turned slightly, his hands dropping to his sides and in a fluid motion he leaned his elbows against the railing, staring inwards at his bedroom. "Go on and get changed up, and you can hit the town tonight if you'd like. Remember to go armed."



Thanatos stared at the paintings up on the wall leading to Brother-Commander Bishop's quarters and office area. He chewed on something quietly, his hands behind his back, squeezing each other tightly. Bishop stepped out of the door after Celeste went the other direction, and closed the door gently. He stood two paces behind the Brother General, waiting. "Do you have a new list?"
"Celeste does." Bishop responded.
"Kane signed off on that, too?"
"Kane made it." Bishop replied.
"Hnn..." Thanatos' eyes dropped to the floor a moment. "We were making progress here."
"Not fast enough, apparantly."
"You piss me off sometimes, Brother. Spending all your earned wealth on insturments, clothes, art. Like some kind of..."
"Woman?" Bishop tilted his head to the side with a small smile. "Women love nothing more than a lion that moves like a lioness. A bear with a tidy cave. A..."
"You and your bloody metaphor's. You can use those for better things." Thanatos grunted.
"But I do. You know that. The removal of the council was a needed step in Kane's plans, and so I obeyed. I just worked faster than he anticipated. A quick action is a confidant action- Kane likes confidence. Relax brother- spend the night, and listen to the sounds of nature while you still can." Bishop risked a hand on the man's shoulder, squeezing it slightly before turning to follow Brother Captain Celeste.

She had a new bar to add to her top.

The lights of Amsterdam were far different from the ones that Alvin Wais Wright currently looked at from his binoculars. Las Vegas was on many a movie, show, and T.V program. In real life it was an epileptic's nightmare, and an insomniac's paradise. The elevator moved down slowly, giving Al enough time to look down one of the many strips of Las Vegas. Alvin placed the Binoculars in the side pouch of his case that rested in his right hand. His gloved hand gripped the gel handle softly, and he gauged its weight for the one hundredth time since he had moved into the Elevator some two minutes ago.

He was pretty visible in the elevator, as it was all glass. But the elevator was made more for show than functionality anyways. The elevator in Alvin's hallway suite would of had him downstairs ten seconds ago. Instead he used this as time to rehearse. He muttered words, held out his hand in mock handshakes, as if he was trying to get down his car sale speech. He dropped the case and as he went to pick it up, opened it instead.

He examined the hefty contents of the bag, sorted through and counted the color-coded binders he had beside his metalic luggage. He then zipped up the bag and picked it up once more, adjusting his blood red tie. Alvin seemed like a very plain gentleman. He seemed mildly fashionable- he was wearing a plain black suit. No real brand name, not too expensive and not dirt cheap. His brown hair was short, combed over to the left, and added a geek look with his spectacles. He looked like he would be clumbsy, despite the fact he wasn't too short or too tall. He was about six feet and two inches in height, and always nodded to people and was always mannerful.


Alvin exited the elevator and exited the hotel altogether. He entered one of the many Taxi Cabs that rested inside the semi circle at the entrance to Caligula's Casino and Hotel. He asked to go no place special- he paid the Cab Driver one hundred dollars to start along with whatever came onto the cost of driving up and down the glamor and glitter filled streets of Las Vegas. This continued for roughly an hour, until Eleven at night hit- roughly. A bit before, a bit after. He thanked the Cab Driver for his patience, picked up his case with a bit of difficulty, and exited outside of the Casino that was beside the one he had been in but a few hours before.


He walked in with a nervous air about him. He bit his bottom lip and walked up to the receptionist with both hands on his case, wringing it slightly. "H...Hello. Could I... Erm, what are the best rooms here?"
"Those would be the suites, sir." The young lady said with a tolerant voice.
"Could I rent one of those, for the night, please?"
"Normally you need a reservation- you'll need to pay a one hundred dollar fee upon the thousand dollars for the suite, sir. You can rent them for a minimum of three days- sorry."
"Oh no no no!" Alvin said with a nervous laugh. "That's okay, that's okay. Eleven hundred then? I just need a view of the strip, that's all..."

**


When Alvin entered the suite, he was a different man. His nervous, sweaty face was gently patted with a disinfectant cloth, then dried with a small handtowel that came from his case. His face was calm, and his glasses came off without a hint of the world blurring. Fake glasses, fake profile- fake person. Al moved to the balcony of his new stakeout, and promptly began to set up the equipment. The telescope that came with the suite for star gazing, if the light pollution allowed such, was set up to stare at the structure to his building's left. Floor twenty one, room 2112. He adjusted it to his 20/20 vision, then patted it gently.

He removed his metalic luggage and began to piece it together on the leather couch carefully and logically. There was no fumbling, no realigning as he pieced the Beretta .50 Caliber Sniper Rifle together. Every piece clicked together perfectly, and the tank-killing rifle was built and loaded in under thirty seconds. He lowered the bi-pod on the front of the barrel, and placed the gun behind the couch. He turned the couch so it faced the door, and at the same time checked his watch- it was nearly one in the morning.

He took off his jacket and his shirt, as he sweated profusely from the heat. He took his coat and draped it over his chest like a blanket, and withdrew from it a silenced Beretta. He took the safety off, rested his right index finger beside the trigger, and with his left hand fished out his sunglasses, and placed them on. To anyone entering the room, he would look like a man staring at the door fully awake and alert- albeit oddly dressed. Thusly when the keycode Bleep! went, he would be awake, and no one would see his opened eyes, giving him enough time to fire his weapon through the safety of his jacket. It was a habit that was hard and uncomfortable, but it was the only way he slept while on the job.

Alvin Wais Wright. Al Wais Wright... Always Right. Assassin of Kane. On the job.