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Fallout 4: War Never Changes!


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Tally smiled at Sam. "Don't worry. You'll do fine. You were always good at Medicine, and you know how to calm down even the most...disturbed...of people. Remember that one time in the Vault when we started going a little bit crazy over the Overseer's newest set of rules? It was hard for us. There was going to be a riot over the earlier curfews and heavier radiation suits, but you were the one who convinced the ringleaders to back down and surrender." She laid a hand on his arm. "I was amazed. I still am, Sam."

 

She turned to Mei Wu. "I'd like to try the Cam-Eye," she said brightly. "I always was curious about being a spy, though I never had the chance to because I was too busy in the...Vault..." She felt a wave of dizziness come.

 

"Are you all right?" the Director of Marketing asked. Tally nodded unsteadily.

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Sam's arm tingled from Tally's touch. It was like warmth radiating out from it.

" Thank you" He whispered as he grabbed the serum and left. He turned on his Pip-boy, typing in the directions towards the Asylum.

" I hope this will get me something good" Sam said absently. Eventually, he arrived at the Home for the Unstable, as it said on the sign. Nice way of putting it Sam mused.

He entered unnoticed, no one was at the reception. He slipped into the lounge, were the 'patients' and the orderlies husseled about. Sam made eye contact with one, she was young, had long black hair, and deep green eyes. He beckoned her with a twist of his head and his hand. She came over, nothing seemed wrong with her until she opened her mouth.

" You're the master, you've seen my thoughts, everyone's thoughts." She said in a sultry voice. Sam would regret what he was aobut to do.

" Look ,this will help you" He said, holding up the vial of greenish liquid " You would be able to hide your thoughts from anyone."

"Master, why would I want to do that? That would include you." She answered. Sam sighed and put the needle in her arm, pushing down the plunger.

She looked at him with fear, then she fainted. He grabbed her before she hit the ground. He put one arm under her knee, another looped between her arms and her back.

He walked out the door, no one bothered to stop him.

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"Excuse me," said a voice as Sam exited the Home for the Unstable. He was wearing a white lab coat, so he was more likely a doctor than a patient. "I'm Doctor Huxley. I was just spending some time with our patients out in the courtyard, helping them get a little fresh air." This "Doctor Huxley" character had white hair and a white beard, but those were the only two ways in which he began to resemble the mythical character of Santa Claus. "We usually don't let anyone into the Home for the Unstable unless they've been either employed or court-ordered to be here." He looked at Sam. "I don't mean to accuse you of anything, sir, but why are you here? Walk with me, please."

 

Sam and Doctor Huxley reached the flowery, fragrant courtyard of the asylum. Sitting down on two wrought-iron chairs, Huxley leaned forward.

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Schmidt had reached Washington D.C. relatively quickly. It was almost a welcoming sight to see so many people moving around. It was a sign of the times.

 

And then Schmidt remembered his line of work, and the sights of a flourishing city angered him. It wouldn't be long before peace was rampant. And he may have to retire early.

 

He slowed from a run to walk, relaxing as he walked, much taller in his armor then the crowds.

 

He began to draw lots of stares, and everyone began to give him alot of room. Eventually the stares stopped, and absolutley no eye-contact was made. They were visibly hostile, Schmidt had a feeling why.

 

An armored officer suddenly stopped in front of him.

 

"State your buisness." Schmidt said to the little man in his way.

 

The Officer raised an eyebrow, "What are you doing here? Come to terrorize more people? Cause a little disruption?"

 

Schmidt chuckled, "No, the thought crossed my mind though. I'm looking for a job. Point me out to the Conglomerate HQ. You have 45 seconds before you become a major annoyance."

 

The Officer wasn't intimidated, but he still had no reason to engage Schmidt and combat.

 

The officer sighed, and rolled his eyes, saying, "You'll find it 2 blocks down. Look for the big sign."

 

Schmidt nodded, and noticed that nearly everyone around had stopped what they were doing and were staring at the scene.

 

"Thank you for your compliance, officer."

 

He continued klunking down the street.

 

As he neared Conglomerate HQ, he thought he might've seen the familiar faces of those he had met earlier....

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Once inside the Conglomerate headquarters, Mei Wu tried to collar Schmidt and explain the organization's latest products in need of testing. Before she could do so, however, a tall and broad-shouldered man with a dark business suit and a palm-crushing handshake quickly wandered over to the armored stranger. "Well, hello!" he cried jovially, his smile stretched taut over his facial muscles. "I'm Bowden Shoales, CEO of the D.C. Conglomerate branch. Please excuse the 'little woman' here," he smiled, gesturing over to the scowling Mei Wu, "but she clearly doesn't see the kind of job I have in mind for you. Mei Wu is our Director of Marketing, but I don't think that you'll be satisfied testing our products for a paycheck. Right?" He grinned glibly.

 

"I'm more interested in you as one of our TSS's--Trade Secret Specialists. My good man," announced Bowden, "THIS is the age of hypercompetition--not just a 'dog eat dog' world, but a 'dog eat cat, eat rabbit, eat everything' world! Some snooping people are always trying to steal our trade secrets or expose them as so-called "evil", and so that's why we need men like you. If this espionage reached the slimy agencies of our competitors, we in the Conglomerate would be out on the streets begging for caps! What do you say? Will you help track down these saboteurs for a hefty salary, sir?"

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Schmidt listened carefully and smiled. This guy had quite the sales pitch.

 

'You've convinced me. I'll take the job, make sure the salary is good."

 

Schmidt hoped there wouldn't be any further problem. Why? He hated paperwork, because when Schmidt Thorwald gave his word on a contract. That contract is DONE. No question.

 

But there wouldn't be a problem if this employer paid well.

 

Perhaps merc work was still needed. Schmidt liked that thought.

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(Threadmaster's Note: Rearrange the letters of Shoales' name. I think you'll laugh! :))

 

"Excellent!" said Shoales. "Step into my office, if you will." The two men did so.

 

"Now, you'll get 150 caps for this first contract, as sort of a little 'test'. There's an environmental do-gooder who likes to call herself Linda Leaf. Normally, these kind of whacked-out people are perfectly harmless, but Leaf has her own talk show. She just isn't satisfied with life here in D.C., even though it's been terraformed by the G.E.C.K. She still feels sorry for the poor little animals that provide us food and cosmetics and all that. Leaf has introduced new legislation--Environmental Bill 2100--that would ban the use of animals for scientific and cosmetic testing purposes, and it would also outlaw any meat that hasn't been raised free-range. We here at the Conglomerate have meat-processing plants all over the country, and also testing sites and laboratories. Now..."

 

Shoales grinned again and put his hands on his desk. "Linda Leaf's talk show must end right now, and her bill, too. Take out the one, and you'll take out the other, good man."

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Schmidt nodded. He could see now what this buisness was like. And as he remembered from earlier contracts, it was this type of buisness that paid best.

 

"No worries. That talk show won't be airing any longer, have my money ready."

 

He gave a very small bow, more like a nod of the head, but the powered armor exaggerated the movement.

 

He looked at the women called 'Mei Wu.'

 

"Maybe next time I'll purchase some of the products. Maybe test a few."

 

He smiled and stood at ease.

 

He looked back at Shoales, "So, is there anything else?"

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"Yes. I would like definitive proof of the removal of this...ahem...obstacle to our success, whether it be electronic or more...organic in nature. That is all for now. Good hunting!"

 

As the armored man left, Bowden Shoales poured himself a glass of single-malt whiskey, which he forbade to his employees on the job. He was the CEO, not an 'employee', so perks of this sort were the kind that he'd risen to the top to take advantage of. As for the heavily-suited 'employee' of his, Shoales had to laugh to himself. Men, or perhaps cybernetic creatures, such as himself were a dime a dozen in this town--or in prisons. Shoales knew he could have hired convicts for this sort of work, but as a rule, he hated them. They were no different than Raiders--after all, weren't Raiders criminals who just hadn't been caught yet? Far better to hire men like Schmidt than to trust any slab of 'cellmeat'. As he left his office to check on Mei Wu and her quarterly figures, he noticed her talking with another beautiful woman about the Cam-Eye product.

 

"Excuse me," he said to Tally. "Are you discussing the Cam-Eye? I have a proposition."

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Lyon walked through the newly reformed Washington D.C. He remembered what it used to look like, buildings destroyed everywhere, and Giant Ghouls wondering everywhere. Even if this place gave the illusion of peace, Lyon still gripped his .35 pistol that was holstered on his wast. The sooner he found out what this 'Conglomerate' was up to the sooner he could get back on the road to where ever.

 

After thirty-seven minuets of walking Lyon finally stood in front of the Conglomerate Head Quarters. It was a tall newly reformed building, probably once owned by the Vualt company, but that was only an assumption. Lyon walked in casually pulling the rim of his hat down to cover his eyes. He chuckled slightly as he entered noticing no one was at the receptionists desk.

 

"Well isn't this a wonderful welcome." he said to himself as he walked up to the empty desk and leaned his elbows upon the desk. There were papers scattered all about the desk, nothing looking too interesting. Lyon picked one up and started reading it.

 

Dear, Miss Lane

 

It would be a great honor to have you on our staff here at Galactic Starting Point. And please understand that we here at Galactic Starting Point we understand your capabilities to and are fully prepared to put them to work in our Scientific Department. If your current employers don't fully understand your capabilities then it is there loss. Your payment will be great and we look forward to working with you.

 

Sincerely,

Mr. Don Corgin C.E.O

 

Lyon thought the letter interesting, unfortunately the letter didn't include any address for him to check this place out. Lyon sighed a little and placed the letter back down. Once thing he learned so far is this place had a very bad way of greeting guests.

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A tall and shapely woman, her blouse provocatively unbuttoned, suddenly sashayed up to Lyon. "Excuse me?" she asked, pursing her glossy lips. "May I help you today, sir?" She gazed at him with a suspicious eye, because the man fiddling with the confidential papers and correspondence on her desk didn't exactly look like an employee of the Conglomerate Headquarters. Even if he were employed here, he wasn't allowed to go snooping around in the secretary's pile of paperwork. "I'm Lois Lane, the receptionist."

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(( i laughed at your choice of a first name there Tysyacha, nice choice. :D))

 

Lyon stayed leaning upon the desk keeping his head tiled down, he moved his eyes to look at the shapely woman. Now he knew one more thing, so far he's meeting a lot of rude people today.

 

"I heard the advertisement over the radio." He said simply "I'm looking for more information on it."

 

He stood up and took a step away from the desk as the lois took a seat at her desk. She placed the papers in a pile and stuffed them into the desk then locked it. He grinned slightly, an easy lock to pick later at his convenience he thought.

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(Did you mean "convenience"? Continence means that you can hold your pee! :))

 

"Ah!" Lois cried. "Looking for work? There's always Mei Wu, the Director of Marketing, who's looking for guinea pigs--I mean, 'product testers'--for our latest offerings here at the Conglomerate. There's also Bowden Shoales, our CEO, and if you rearrange the letters of his last name, I'm sure you'll find out what kind of person he is. If you're of the more 'special needs' sort, you can apply to work at any of our factories or processing plants. We make everything under the sun, except Nuka-Cola and a few other things."

 

Lois backed up and almost sat on the desk. "If you're looking for something more direct, however, I'm not just a receptionist. No one's looking at the moment, and if you have 100 caps or so, I'll--" She shook her head. "Never mind. This one's for free. You wouldn't believe how many Ghouls, including Shoales, have tried to 'make their way past the receptionist', but I had the security guards deal with them. What do you say, Mister Handsome?" She kicked off her six-inch high heels and took a sip of her coffee.

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(( I wont ask how you know that ))

 

Lyon wasn't exactly looking for work, just information. But doing some work he knew did get him the information he was looking for. He was curious too what exactly this 'pretend' receptionist was talking about. Lyon crossed his arms over his chest and raised his head to look into Lois eyes. It occurred to him after everything he has done, still no one knew who he was and that fact made him laugh a little.

 

"What exactly is your point Miss. Lane" Lyon said.

 

He felt a slight rush of excitement, something he hadn't felt in a long time. Maybe this place would prove to be entertaining, if not then he would just simply be on his way.

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Lois rolled her eyes. "I mean that I work at night, too, although I sometimes tend to my other duties during the daytime. You're far more handsome than any of the other men who bow and scrape and snivel in here, trying to get a job with the Conglomerate. As I said, a lot of them are Ghouls, and what's worse, there have been some Brotherhood of Steel and Enclave remnants trying to have their way with me. Without pay, of course."

 

She beckoned with a long-nailed finger. "I'll give you some information if I get--you."

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Lyon took a step back and glared at Lois. This woman's actions were disturbing to say the least. She wanted something from his that he wasn't going to give to her. He sighed realizing he'd have to go about getting the information a different way. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and looked around the room aimlessly as he sorted through idea's in his head. Then he thought of something, maybe using some of his charm could be useful.

 

"Alright Miss. Lane. I'll make you a deal, you let me use your computer and I'll meet you any where you'd like." Lyon said.

 

Part of him hoped that some one would come along and pull her away from his desk, everything would be a whole lot easier then. He smiled at her, trying to reassure her that he had every intention on meeting her later.

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Lois pouted. "No deal. That computer contains our employee payroll information, status of product rollouts, and other 'tricks of the trade' we won't let non-employees see. Since you won't be one of mine, I hope I won't have to call Security to escort you out."

 

"Lois?" called Bowden Shoales. "Could you deliver the Rad-Gone files to Tad's office?"

 

"Right away, sir," responded the "receptionist," and she grabbed a hefty file folder from the top of her desk. "Either get out or go see Mei Wu," she told the mysterious stranger.

 

Shoales turned back to his previous conversation, which piqued the stranger's interest:

 

"So, you're interested in the Cam-Eye, eh? I might have just the job for you, if you're interested. At the Washington Monument, heads of state are gathering for a private meeting on our new President Parson's stimulus package. Instead of being a sensible man and automatically granting us no-bid contracts to terraform sections of the country, among other things, Parson may see fit to cut our corporate subsidies. I want you to go to that meeting, record its proceedings on your Cam-Eye, and return to me, dear girl."

 

Tally blinked. "Isn't that treason against the United States, Mister Shoales?" she asked.

 

"There is no real 'United States' anymore," replied Bowden matter-of-factly. "There are just wastelands and cities, metropolitan areas. It's every man or woman for himself nowadays, and I promise you, if you complete the mission, you'll receive 1,000 caps."

 

"And if I refuse?" Even though Tally had been a Vault Dweller for all of her life, she still knew a shady deal when she heard it. "If I'm caught, it's the firing squad for me, sir."

 

"I wouldn't recommend refusing," answered Shoales, "or getting caught. Now, go, darling."

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Schmidt stood in front of the large building that practically served it's use as a celebrities apartment complex.

 

Complete with doorman.

 

That would make things difficult, the odds of them allowing an armor man armed with a minigun may draw attention.

 

Of course, he had no intention of going like that.

 

Which is why he had recently changed into a maintenance man's uniform. He carried a bag that had his weapons, and his armor was being repaired, so he needn't worry about that. The only thing that would catch the doorman's eye would be Schmidt's face. He had a few scars, and if the doorman would remember, the scars would be an easy thing to pick out. The local authorites would make short-work of this activity, and that could bring down his employer. Something no one wanted.

 

He'd just have to be careful.

 

He walked up to the door and made sure the shadows hid his face.

 

He smiled, with what little good it would do.

 

"Hello! I was sent here to handle a spot of trouble that the person in room 207 had."

 

The doorman, "Oh, Linda Leaf? Alright, I heard something about that. Go right in, and have a nice day."

 

Schmidt nodded, "Thank you."

 

He walked in and immediatley took to the stairs. Elevators were far too confining for a contract like this. He would need more room and less surveillance to get this done.

 

He finally reached the room, and prepared himself for the final phase of the contract.

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Linda Leaf finished putting on her lipstick and opened the door. "Oh!" she gasped as she saw the "maintenance man". "You startled me. You can go on in and fix the tub faucet, which doesn't seem to be working correctly at the moment--at least not the hot water."

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Lyon walked behind the desk and sat in the chair. He felt a little disgusted sitting in the same chair as that woman but sitting in the chair would draw less attention then him squatting on the ground. He tried the computer only to be stopped by a encryption he couldn't bypass. He sighed with a little frustration then turned his attention to the desk itself.

 

Any kind of lock he could pick it was after all one of his major skills. Once the locks were out of the way he opened the drawers and started sorting through the folders. Apparently she kept some pretty important stuff. Lyon started to wonder if she copied these blueprints or if her employers trusted her enough to keep them guarded. Either way it had information he was looking for, but it wasn't safe to read the files while in the company headquarters itself.

 

Lyon stuffed the folders down the back of his pants and hid them with his shirt. He closed the drawer and stepped away from the desk. He walked towards the door to leave thinking that all of this was a little to easy.

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That may have been why he did not notice the shadow behind one of the doors, poised to strike, with a ball-point pen cleverly modified to act as a blow gun. Lois Lane, receptionist by day and 'lady of the evening' by night, had been trained by several of Bowden Shoales' thugs to fight with the only weapon she really knew how to use. Ever since the stranger had turned her down only half an hour ago, Lois knew he was trouble for the Conglomerate. Thus, as he started to walk out the door with her important papers, she forcefully projected a tranquilizer dart out of the end of the pen, hitting the man in the neck. It was only a matter of seconds before he went down.

 

***********************************

 

"Good morning!" sneered Lois when Lyon awoke, tied to a chair with ropes so tight that they almost cut off the circulation to his hands. "Welcome to my 'other office', which is one of the safehouses for Mr. Shoales' men." She was standing next to four burly thugs, wearing dirty jeans and tank tops. "I'd like you to meet Brian, Brendan, Bond and Bones. They'll be serving you this afternoon, and I must warn you that their brand of 'massage' is a bit rough."

 

She strode up to Lyon and stroked his cheek with her claw-like acrylic nails. "Don't worry, honey. Only Brendan is of the persuasion to prefer his fellow 'bro's', as he likes to call them. Cooperate, and it won't be too painful. Oh, and did I forget to tell you that there are security cameras all over the Conglomerate HQ? I can't believe you'd be so stupid as to try and take my files without noticing that. I took them back, by the way. Thank you in advance--you're going to provide me with quite a bit of entertainment this afternoon! I'd better go pop some popcorn." Lois grinned, and her smile was absolutely vulpine. "Boys?" she asked. "You can go ahead with the massage."

 

*********************************

 

Tally had a plan. She was going to turn herself in to the authorities at the Washington Monument as soon as she got there, revealing the plans about the Cam-Eye and the secret meeting with the heads of state. She figured that if she revealed the Conglomerate's dastardly plans and betrayed them immediately, she'd be a hero instead of a heel. Nothing would stop her...

 

...except a funny feeling that she'd better run away from the smelly, run-down flophouse nearby. Either that, or investigate it to see what was going on. Steeling herself and finding a length of metal in the trash pile nearby to use as a weapon, she opened the door as quietly as she dared. The whole place smelled like cat urine, or more likely, anhydrous ammonia to make meth. No one seemed to be in the decrepit place, but she still had that warning sense that told her something was about to go really wrong, really quick.

 

There were stairs leading down to the basement. Tally crept down them...

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Schmidit put on his best smile as Linda Leaf let him in.

 

This was almost too easy. Killing was always too easy, it was what happened afterwards that was never easy.

 

He walked as casually as possible after Linda Leaf, as she led him to the bathtub faucet that was in need of repair.

 

He spied a letter on a nearby table, written by Linda Leaf. On the way he grabbed unknown to her, and began to study her handwriting.

 

As they reached the bathroom, he took out his silenced pistol.

 

"Miss Leaf. You have troubled my employer too long."

 

She turned around, her mouth wide-open in surprise.

 

He fired a silent shot, which hit her right in the mouth.

 

She immediatley dropped dead, something Schmidt liked. As much as a cold-killer as he was, he never wanted to put his targets through suffering. He became notorious for his single shot kills, he was glad he had practiced it so many times.

 

A pool of red began to form around her head, and Schmidt found a nearby piece of paper.

 

Luckily, he was wearing gloves, so there would be no fingerprints here for the authorities to follow.

 

He took out a pencil and studied Linda Leaf's handwriting some more.

 

He then began to write down her 'suicide' letter. It was now a fact that once her body was found, she would've thought to have commited suicide.

 

He finished the letter and placed it on a nearby night stand, at the same time disposing of the letter he had used as a template.

 

He then took out a regular pistol, no silencer, and one-bullet less in the magazine. It would seem to work out perfectly with the suicide.

 

He rubbed the gun's trigger and handle in the cold hands of Linda Leaf, he then put a few inches away from her dead body.

 

He stepped back and looked at the crime scene he had created. Then he noticed a picture of Linda Leaf and a group of other people on the table.

 

He then saw that it was her family in the picture.

 

Instant remorse flooded into his mind, but he shook it off, he needed to be cold in order to get the job done.

 

He then needed to find proof of the kill.

 

He saw that Linda Leaf was wearing a bracelet with a fragment of a sentence: "LL's Talk Show, Best of the Year!"

 

He went over and grabbed the bracelet and placed it in his pocket.

 

The mission was done, the proof found.

 

With that, he left, no one suspecting that Linda Leaf was dead.

 

Remorse and a distant sadness preyed at Schmidt's mind.

 

He began his return to the Conglomerate.

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Bowden Shoales was quite pleased once his newest "Trade Secret Specialist" returned to the Conglomerate headquarters. Not only had the man made the "obstacle removal" quick and efficient, but he'd also brought back very valuable proof of Linda Leaf's untimely "suicide"--a golden engraved bracelet bragging about her latest accomplishment in the world of talk shows. Shoales chuckled to himself. Hiring this armored thug had been a sheer stroke of luck, but he preferred to think of it as a stroke of genius. He had another task for Schmidt Thorwald, for which he was to increase the "salary" fourfold.

 

"Thank you for taking care of this matter so speedily," smiled Shoales. "As I said before, this was a little 'test' for you, which you passed with flying colors. I really didn't expect that little waif Linda Leaf to put up much of a challenge, but this next one will require a bit more...fortitude, shall we say.

 

"Your next target is one Rodion Skolnik, a United States Senator. In the past, he has been heavily bankrolled by the Enclave, and now the Conglomerate has taken up the task of funding his campaigns. Recently, however, Skolnik has had one of those disgusting 'fits of conscience' when he heard about the 'cleansing of the D.C. slums', so to speak. He has broken ranks with us. I need you to capture Skolnik, rough him up, and bring him to me alive and beaten. He needs to know who his bosses are and get 'reacquainted' with us.

 

The CEO of the D.C. branch of the Conglomerate leered. "Six hundred caps."

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Schmidt nodded, "I shall do so immediatley. Have the money ready."

 

He turned, but quickly came back, "Also, I was wondering if I could speak to your Marketing Represenative. I am interested in any new products you have offer."

 

He knew that he'd need something much more effective in the way of weapons for this mission. Something he very much enjoyed.

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Lyon grinned he couldn't honestly believe this person could be so foolish. He had planned this from the start, but he was rather disappointed in this assistant. He sighed heavily then started to laugh histarlically making himself seem insane. Getting beaten wasn't anything new to him, after having bullets shot threw his body, beaten with lead pipes. By all reasonable measure he should have been dead long ago. But people always underestimate his resolve in such things.

 

"Now Miss. Lane I can't believe you'd be so stupid to believe I didn't notice the security cameras."

 

Lyon noticed that his little knife he hid up his sleeve was still present. Apparently she didn't check him thoroughly, which was another disappointment. Anymore strikes against her and Lyon might get bored with her. He slide the life out of his sleeve and started cutting through the ropes. If she thought these were tight then she needed to learn the meaning of a good knot. As he was making the final cuts of the ropes he smiled at Lois with his head tilted down slightly.

 

"I also can't believe your so foolish enough you didn't check me thoroughly." with saying that the ropes broke and he was free. Quickly he launched and shoved the knife into Bones neck, twisting it and ripping it out at an angel. As the man fell Lyon quickly ripped the gun from the mans side and shot down the last three men hitting them in the head or in the throat.

 

Lyon stood there pointing the gun at Lois smiling "Please don't underestimate me in the future Miss. Lane. You don't know the things I have been through, or the things I have done. Now I only want information on the company you work for, like whether or not they pose a threat to the future of the world."

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