sharpershooter:
    That was entirely why heâd chosen to approach. A military officer working with interpol wasnât supposed to be seen with high-ranking members of criminal syndicates, so heâd have to play covert. It looked like theyâd both traded war games for games of a different sort, chosen based on how theyâd started trying to cope with what those war games had done to their minds and bodies.
    âAnâ you know me. Born into it, canât get myself out of it, always up to my sodding ears in it. Finally made Major, too. All I had tâdo was get my fuckinâ legs blown off. Just⊠hold off on the Ghost in the Shell jokes, Iâm not that much of a cyborg yet. Gettinâ there.â Not quite a brain and a spinal cord in a robot body, but practically a third of the way there with how many augmentations they were cramming into him. But he wasnât sure Nigel would get the joke, so instead he just lit up one of his own cigarettes. Herbal. It was either that or an e-cig according to the team of doctors who were working on him, and he sure as shit didnât want to vape. Wasnât his kind of crowd, that, so heâd stick to what he knew best.
    ââ Good. If his armâs really fucked, send me his medical bill. Heâs a good kid, follows orders well, donât want him to suffer on my account.â
    Classified information was not to be shared with âciviliansâ. But. If Nigel really was top of the heap in Bucharest, that meant he had connections. Connections he could exploit. âWe think there might be a group hiding here thatâs stockpiling for a terror attack. Thing is, we dunno if theyâre gonna hit here, or if theyâre using the city as a staging ground for a hit on the Serbs.â The way he held the false cig in his hand was pretty typical of him. Underhand, no visible light from a distance and it kept the smoke down. Looked odd as shit, but he wasnât about to break the habit. Not so long as he was stuck playing detective in places with a lot of good options for a sniperâs nest. âWouldnât happen to know anyone who deals in military surplus, would you?â
A joyless cackle follows suit as Silas finishes his little speech about synthetic limbs and Ghost in the Shell references. Heâd seen the goddamn movie and was left rather unimpressed, despite Scarlet Johanssonâs futuristic costume that had left little to the imagination. âWell, my friend, what can I say? It seems like the both of us have found ourselves positively swimming in shit without shovels at hand.âÂ
But the bitter humor dissipates as soon as Silas reveals the reason behind his presence in Bucharest: Oh yes, the terrorists...Indeed he knew exactly where they were and what they were doing: He was, after all, dubbed the King of Bucharest. Which implicitly meant that nothing moved on his territory without Nigel eventually learning about it. And it was rather fortuitous that those assholes had bigger fish to catch than the fear and attention of the Romanian government. Mainly because despite his influence, Nigel doubted he could prevent such an attack, in the eventuality that the capital would be targeted. He didnât have enough men, and those that worked for him were too soft and cowardly, untrained for such a mission.
âIt so happens that I might know just the fucker you are looking for. Mind you I would never get tangled in the affairs of the Interpol, but terrorism is bad for business: Iâd rather have my associates fear no one else but me...Not to mention that, in the eventuality of an attack, my clientele would be reduced considerably.â A throaty laugh, followed by the lighting of another cigarette, from which he took a long and hungry drag. âI mean, have you seen this Godforsaken city? One tiny explosion and Iâm pretty sure the whole Bucharest would sink like the fucking Titanic under its own weight: Most of these buildings have survived the Earthquake of â77 without any ulterior consolidations. And I have no intention of reigning over a pile of ash and rubble.â
