Inheritance Inc. [John Smith Mission]

Description: Worldwide headquarters for Benjamin Langely's Inheritance Inc., this 50 story office building is a gleaming symbol of the old man's corporate empire. There is a helicoptor pad on the roof as well as three floors underground making up an employee garage. The tinted windows lining every wall of the building are constructed from reinforced, shatterproof glass and every floor is coded for security using an identification pad in every elevator.

To maintain a reasonable amount of security, there is a security station every five floors with three men at any given time, all of whom are ex-military of some sort. While they and the elevator codes would normally be substantial security in their own right, Inheritance Inc. employs a first line of defense at the first checkpoint in the main lobby, utilizing a database of current employee's DNA to determine who has access into the building at all, let alone reach their assigned floor.

The security stations remain in constant contact with one another and video feeds can be routed up to Langely's personal office on the top floor which can only be reached by a private, hidden elevator. The office itself has had its windows and doors reinforced against bombs and can automatically lock down the entire facility with the press of a button or activate the sprinkler system which, for whatever reason, emits holy water.

This was the place. Awfully high security for just a business, even with government contracts. If there was a better indication of shady activity, he couldn't think of one. Aside from any Orwellian signs about productivity, or something.

He'd checked the place out earlier, finding a major lack of information concerning floor plans and the location of the office, though quite a bit about how dangerous the place was supposed to be. It seemed like disguise would be the best way to go about this. He'd taken a gray suit and briefcase before appearing at the building, brushing some hair out of his face before proceeding inside.

He came in as loudly as possible, pretending to talk on his phone to someone named Greg. After an intense amount of shouting about lemons and combustion, he mimicked hanging up and placing the plastic square into his pocket. He leaned up on the reception desk, taking up as much space as possible. "'Scuse me, there. Got an appointment with your CEO up there. Tell him Doctor Stein is here for me, would you?" It pained him to feign such a sociable attitude, but it was important for what he had to do next. He scanned the desk, looking for anything of importance he might need, like keys or cards or keycards. Passwords left out in the open were fair game, too.

Working the reception desk was a mixed bag. On the plus side, it allowed the employee plenty of activity to help pass the time. The downside was that much of that activity involved difficult cases like the loud, obnoxious man currently approaching the desk. The guard did her level best to avoid outright scowling at the man as she opened up the black leather scheduling binder containing all appointments for the day. However, a quick visual scan did not turn up any mention of a "Dr. Stein."

"I'm sorry, sir. You're not on the list." With an almost bored shrug, she closed the binder and returned it to her desk drawer where it covered up the lost and found box from that day.

This was about what he expected. Time to act inappropriately angry. "What?" he yelled, slamming a fist on the desk. He pushed his way behind it and opened the drawer. He grabbed the binder with one hand, using it to the other digging through the drawer, taking a few wallets he managed to find and slipping them in his pocket disguised by his rage. "What do you mean I'm not on the list? The list is wrong! Do you know who I am? I'm Doctor Francis Stein! I called your boss three months ago to make this damn appointment, and now you idiots didn't even put me on the list?" He slammed the binder on the ground after he'd finished taking everything of value in the box. "Fuck this! I'm never doing business with your company again!" He stormed out the front door, no doubt with security having been mobilized during his tantrum, taking one last look around to establish the position of the elevator.

As the man became increasingly outraged, the female guard was eventually forced to rise from her seated position and bring one hand to rest on her holstered sidearm. This madman had the gall to just reach into the desk and rummage through the contents. "Sir! Step away from the desk, now!" she ordered, stepping forward and undoing the clip of her weapon holster. Thankfully, it appeared as if his brief look at the schedule had calmed him somewhat and he quickly made his exit just as two more guards arrived on the scene.

The female guard simply shook her head and reclipped her holster before returning the binder to its proper place. While she returned the desk to order, her fellow guard leaned over the console and punched in a few buttons on the security feed, temporarily rewinding the footage to a frame that offered a decent view of the insane man's face. Regardless of what his name was, after an outburst like that his face was going on the proverbial black list for the building's security department. With that image uploaded to the linked security terminals throughout the building, there would be no excuse for a competent employee to allow him on the premises again.

He ducked into an alleyway to look over what he'd gotten. Four different ID cards rested in the wallets, along with some money he kept for himself (because he might as well go all in when stealing from these guys). He tossed the wallets on the ground after taking the cards and placing them in his briefcase among his work clothes, keeping one in his suit pocket. His arm extended, a portal opening against the bricks and leading directly into the elevator.

It was a rather spacious setup, all things considered. He walked right through and into the steel box, swiping the card he had on him into a terminal. To his surprise, it did not, in fact, allow him to select a floor. It simply went up. He quickly opened the briefcase, checking all four of the cards for the highest floor number, swiping another before the elevator could reach the destined floor. As the machine continued upwards, he hopped to the railing around the perimeter of the car, jumping to the ceiling and knocking a maintenance hatch loose, which he crawled through, thanking the fact his upper body strength was just so amazing.

He felt the elevator stop at the first destination, but it was of no concern. Being up top gave him the chance to change. He opened the briefcase to retrieve his default clothing, leaving the uncomfortable suit behind on top of the car, along with the stolen cards and case. Straightening his coat, he sat atop the elevator until it finally ceased moving at the 38th floor. Most executives liked to be at the very top, so it was a "mere" 12 floors up to the top. Calling once again upon his fantastically toned arms and chest, he began the arduous task of climbing the cables up to the top. Though it was nothing he wasn't used to, it was still rather time consuming. Around the 45th floor, he got lucky and was able to ride up two more before needing to climb, using the moment to catch his breath and stretch his hands.

Finally, after quite a long time of climbing (he wasn't really keeping track), he made it to what he assumed was the 50th floor. Moving to the very top of the cables, he jumped into small space for the doors on that floor, stabbing a knife between them as he landed to keep from falling back down. He nudged the doors open just enough to fit his other hand in, forcing them open enough to slide through. To his and the various workers surprise, he was not in the super secret offices of the CEO, but just another floor of cubicles. He retracted the knife into his sleeve, looking around awkwardly at the gawking people in suits. He noted cameras all around, figuring he'd probably been seen already, meaning security was on the way. He sighed, moving off into a corner as he waited for the people to arrive who probably had answers. He avoided the cameras all the same. He couldn't make it too easy for these kids.

It was a relatively uninteresting day for the young intern by the name of Steve Stevenson stationed on the 49th floor of Inheritance Inc. That was, until the strange white haired man pried his way would of the elevator shaft with a knife. Immediately dropping the stack of papers he'd been holding, Stevenson and two of his coworkers who had been passing by took cautionary steps away from the armed intruder before Stevenson himself was able to summon the courage to speak.

"S-security!" he screamed, grabbing a stapler to protect himself. Despite the fear and confusion gripping them, Stevenson and his coworkers kept the intruder in their line of sight, following him at a safe distance until he came to rest in a nearby corner. After what seemed like an eternity to Stevenson (actually about 90 seconds), two security guards appeared in the forest of cubicles and jogged over to where the frightened intern was waving.

The newly arrived twosome were former military men with express orders to maintain the safety and privacy of not only the workers on this floor, but the CEO one floor above. Unholstering their sidearms, the guards cautiously approached the trespasser while staying well outside of his reach. "Get on your knees and put your hands behind your head, sir! You're trespassing on private property!" the first guard ordered, training his pistol at the intruder's chest.

There was a reason he went to that corner. Behind him was a fuse box to control the power on that floor. Just as he'd expect, two goons showed up with guns to try and take him out. Coincidence, luck, or cosmic laziness was on his side, since only one of them actually brandished the weapon at him. He gave a sigh, moving his arms up slowly before whipping to the side and grabbing the guard's wrist, hoping to cause them to shoot right into the box. By being to the side, he'd put another person between himself and the second person, which would probably discourage them from shooting. If not, then they'd just end up killing their coworker.

He hoped to use the darkness as a means of sneaking around the room. His steps made no noise, so the guards (and the workers not directly next to him) would probably be unable to find him. From there, he'd be able to pick them off with a bit of leisure. He'd refrain from killing anyone, though. A guy breaking into the building and fighting some guards was of less concern than a murderer, and he still had to make the guy up top look like an accident.

Suddenly jerked forward by the white haired intruder, the armed guard involuntarily discharged a single shot into the nearby fuse box. The box sputtered a few unpleasant looking sparks before abruptly cutting out entirely to plunge the entire room in near darkness. Relying upon his training and instincts, the first guard, who happened to be named Chad, struck out with a short range sidekick aimed at where he believed the intruder's knee would be. Specifically, the guard was attempting to drive the kick into the vulnerable side of the joint to drive the trespasser to the ground.

Though unable to fire his weapon for fear of hitting a fellow employee, the second guard, named Chet, drew his pistol along with a large maglight nonetheless. Holding his light in a policeman's grip, the guard flicked the beam of illumination around the room to try and keep a bead of visibility on the white haired stranger.

Before long, Chet's flashlight was not the only source of light within the room. Two flashing red emergency lights soon flared to life. The first indicated the location of the staircase to the floors below. The second, strangely enough, was directly over an out of order water cooler devoid of both its tank and the spout for warm water.

The kick would meet nothing but floor, as the assassin had released the guard and darted off the moment the power died. At the sound of a gun, the workers fled from their cubicles to run down the stairs and away from danger, as most people would. The running and screaming gave him ample time to find a nice space under a desk to camp out as the emergency lights began to flare up. One was over the stairs, as expected, but another was more unusual.

For whatever reason, it was above some water cooler. Apparently, some explaining was in order. Since he couldn't afford to kill one of these guys, asking some questions would be a bit more difficult. If they didn't report back sooner or later, they'd probably send up some backup, too. No harm in a concussion, at least.

Drawing inspiration from the isolated antics of an alien, he checked for the guard's position by light beams to make sure they weren't directly in front of him before getting out. The faster he took care of this, the better, so he couldn't afford to make this very quiet. He planned to sneak up behind the one he was unaware was called Chad (whether or not they stayed in a group or split up, it mattered little). When in position, he'd bring a bit of karmic justice into the mix by kicking out his knee from behind, wrapping an arm around his neck and another to brace it and cover his mouth. Leaning back, he'd be able to choke the breath out of him without disturbance. This wasn't the plan, though. He wanted to make noise. Draw the other to him. After a good few seconds dedicated to any surprised gasping or struggling, he'd fall backwards and maneuver his body to smash the man's head into the ground with as much force as he could, delivering a quick strike to the temple if he was still conscious after that.

Hopefully, all this would go off well enough, the guard's competence and training doing little to protect him from a sneak attack by ninja within the span of six seconds, at most. Using the last of his time to collect himself off the ground, he'd simply have to wait behind another desk for the man's partner to come around for an interview.

(OOC) 3 recharge.

With the numerous employees filing out of the area in short order, the two guards on the scene began their patrol through the darkness. However, the twosome functioned as such for only a short period of time before the intruder was violently dispatched. A major setback for the building security team to be sure, but emergency protocol took over soon enough. Within a few moments of the lights going out and Chad being rendered unconscious, the third and final guard assigned to the floor team arrived with his weapon and flashlight at the ready. Surveying the scene, he and Chet quickly locked eyes.

"I called in for back up from the floor below. The building's on lock down and they'll be here soon. Where the hell is Chad?" he new arrival asked, sweeping the room once more with his flashlight.

Visibly confused, Chet spun around to try and locate his partner only to curse in surprise at the sight of the unconscious guard on the ground. "Jesus! He's down! No visuals on the target," he said, sparing a glance back to the other guard who silently motioned towards the water cooler. Nodding in agreement, Chet linked up with his fellow employee and slowly moved towards the out of order water cooler while covering one another's blind spots. Upon reaching the cooler, the two men placed their backs against the wall and began alternating sweeps of the area with their flashlights. The priority now was to keep the target contained to this floor until the security personnel below arrived to mop up the situation once and for all.

Apparently, there really was something going on with that water cooler. Obviously, he had to go check it out. He grabbed a stapler off the desk he was behind and chucked it as hard as he could at a computer monitor, hearing a loud smash on the other side of the room. Yeah, what's that sound, right? Go check it out like a giant asshole. His hope was that only one of them would go to see what happened, separating the two so he'd be able to drop the other and question the last. He kept a watch from the corner of his cover to see what would happen next.

(OOC) 4.

The sudden thump of the thrown stapler was enough to grab the immediately attention of the two guards standing by the water cooler. However, it was because of situations just like this that Inheritance Inc. employed properly trained veterans. Rather than completely split up once again, the men exchanged a brief series of gestures and a nod of agreement before moving as one towards the source of the noise. To avoid the mistakes of the past, they split to either side of the group of cubicles dominating the center of the room so that they could close in on the intruder's likely location without allowing him an opportunity to slip away again. While aggressive, the men still moved with care, keeping one another within view and their backs against a wall as much as possible.

Flashlights and guns at the ready, both men were operating on kill on sight orders now but the intruder didn't need to know that just yet. "C'mon out, ninja boy. Make this easy and we won't kick your ass too badly," Chet said, finally coming across the stapler on the floor. It was an outright lie but that's just how Chet was. Would you really expect anything less from a man named Chet?

Well, they were obviously lying. But they were doing fine. From where he was peaking around the corner, he could see one of the two coming down the aisle, seemingly indicating his strategy had worked. Picking up a computer monitor, he waited for the footsteps to approach as close as possible, then gave up all pretense of subtlety and slammed the damn thing at the guard's head.

It was an older piece of hardware, as these office jobs usually have, so it was of considerable weight and heft. Like most multibillion dollar companies, they spared much expense on their laborers' hardware, giving them computers straight out of the early 2000's, at best. Still, it worked for his needs, which was probably the best compliment Windows XP had gotten in a long time.

What he hadn't expect, however, was that both of these guys had come to find him. Granted, the other appeared on the other side, judging by the beam of light that came streaming through as he was busy doing the dead of bashing a computer monitor into people, but it would still be a problem. Assuming the one guy went down after having heavy electronic equipment impact his skull, he'd have to find cover before the other one started shooting. Otherwise, it'd be Bad News Bears for his heroic shoulder, or some such non-fatal body part.

Where does he keep getting these references?

(OOC) Recharge 5.

Keith didn't consider himself to be an overly mean man. Sure, he was pretty sure he worked for Satan or something but that was probably just a side effect of watching too much Doctor Who. At the very least he was a decent guy in comparison to that jerk named Chet. Why would he go an lie to the poor kid like that? Of course they were going to shoot him on sight, that's just how evil corporations worked. Come to think of it, where would he rank if life really was a spy movie? Considering he was just a guard without much authority, probably pretty high. Definitely not high enough to get dropped into a tank full of sharks, that was for sure. Wait, did they even have one of those? They had better considering how much they saved on cheap computers in the office, one of which was currently being swung straight towards his head.

"Brk!" was the only nonsensical comment Keith had time to say as he reflexively jerked away from the computer and brought his arms up to cover his head. The heavy computer screen slammed into his left hand, causing him to drop his flashlight with a blow that more than likely broke his arm. Falling to his back, Keith awkwardly fired a single shot from the hip at the silhouette of his attacker illuminated from behind by what he assumed to be Chet's flashlight.

And right little Keith was as Chet had rounded the corner just in time to see his far more pleasant coworker take a the brunt of a painful shot from a weaponized computer. With full view of the light haired intruder, Chet squeezed off three careful rounds, leading his target while aiming for center mass.

This plan was just amazing. The guy he smashed over the head might not have hit him, but the other guy got a much better shot at him. The only thing that saved him from taking three bullets straight through the back was a quick response to trying to take out the guy the stupid computer couldn't manage to. An elbow drop at the nose as he went to grab the gun out of his hand allowed him to slip below two of the bullets. The third, though, managed to graze along his side, splintering on impact with his coat and lodging a good number of pieces into his skin.

Getting shot never felt any better, no matter how many times it happened. If it weren't for his coat, he'd be in a lot worse shape than he is now. Its valiant sacrifice would not be forgotten. He couldn't waste more time down here, though. Reinforcements would be coming pretty soon. This tall-ass building was putting itself to good use, though, and was still buying him some time.

Whether or not that elbow drop and body slam managed to put this guy under (and, damn it, it better), he'd still most likely have a grip on that gun, since most people don't hold onto objects too well after being clocked with a big weight. He'd roll off him, attempting to wrench the gun from his hand as he ducked behind the walls of another row of cubicles. It'd agitate the bullet fragments inside him, but he couldn't worry about pain right now. If he could get this room down to the last guy, he'd be set to figure out the mysteries of the water cooler.

(OOC) Recharge 6, done.

Despite his good karma for donating record amounts to local orphans, orphans with diseases no less, Keith was really not having a very good day. First this crazy man broke into the office right before he could give kindly old Nancy her birthday cake, then the power went out (likely deleting his latest Minecraft creation), then he got with with a computer, then his lucky bullet missed its mark, and now he was on the wrong end of a WWE match. As Keith blacked out and his gun hand thumped limply to the floor, it was all he could do to exclaim the foulest expletive that he knew of.

"Poop."

Chet, on the other hand, was having a decent day. He did get to kinda shoot a guy, after all. After letting off the first few rounds of his magazine, Chet advanced on the intruder and poor, innocent Keith. Though he didn't get there in time to prevent that saint among men from being knocked unconscious, Chet rounded the corner a moment after the intruder rolled to try and avoid his bullets. Attempting to capitalize on the intruder's position on the ground, Chet delivered a heavy kick aimed at the side of his head to disorient the villain before firing two more bullets at his chest.

He'd collected a handy new firearm to help complete this task. Not entirely sure what good it would do, he unloaded it just in time for that dastardly liar to come charging around the corner. A kick wouldn't do much for him, though. All he had to do was catch the heel and the top of his ankle to avoid it, rolling back with the force of the kick and giving a hefty pull to try and knock the guy off balance, causing him to fall to the ground with his poor, abused testicles smacking against the floor with the force of all his body weight on top of them. If this worked, any potential bullets fired would probably go off into various other directions as he lost balance and began falling to the floor. After that, it'd just be a quick flick of his wrist to produce a knife and toss it through poor Chet's own wrist to get rid of that pesky gun.

It sure felt good making people break their balls.

Poor Chet. Poor poor Chet and his horrible ball pain...is what someone might say if anybody actually liked Chet. Luckily, Chet was a jackass who sort of had it coming. Pulled off balance by the intruder, the guard wildly sprayed the rest of his ammunition in the crazy man's direction. However, it was a short lived offensive swiftly halted by a cringe worthy impact with the office floor. Screaming in pain with his legs spread eagle, Chet's cries only grew louder as a knife pierced his wrist. All thoughts of his empty firearm abandoned, Chet fell backward cradling his bleeding wrist while a stream of profanities poured from his lips.

OOC: Reinforcements will arrive at the end of my next post.

The bullets of an off-balance man falling to the death of his sperm were of no consequence. Taking a second to kick that bastard Chet right in the face, giving him exactly what he deserved - a piece of something he stepped in earlier in that alley back there. No one could really be sure what it was. Probably trash of some sort. Filthy trash.

With the blaring lights, it seemed like the water cooler was the best bet. That one guy with the gun wouldn't be of much help. The other one, though. He seemed like he'd have offered the solution. Something about him seemed nicer. Can't dwell on what could have been, though.

He frantically started slapping everything in sight: Buttons, spaces where buttons could have been, the area where the tank no longer sat, the wall behind it, the legs, and even the floor. He even tried pushing it over. He's so bad at puzzles.

Between the intruder's wild, flailing attempts to operate one of the simplest devices ever created for office use, he somehow managed to get lucky enough make it work. An errant slap against the remaining water nozzle rotated the spout 90 degrees to the left and with the hidden mechanism engaged, an entire section of the seemingly bare wall slid back to reveal a small elevator.

Unfortunately for the intruder, more company in the form of reinforcements arrived just as the elevator was revealed. The first three men seemed relatively ordinary, clad in the same guard uniforms that the first group had worn now with the added benefit of ballistic vests and pump action shotguns. The fourth though, was a bit more interesting. A recent hire by the name of Randy, this guard chose to forego the traditional uniform in favor of an all black ensemble complete with a full face mask and sword sheathed over his shoulder. Letting out a terrifying battle cry that brought to mind the dying screams of a family of gophers, Randy unleashed a hail of razor edged shuriken at the intruder.

It worked. Clearly, he was just too smart for this building. He should just go home now, learn some school. Maybe get a Ph.D in physics, or something. All that was left was to walk into the elevator. But then these assholes just had to show up, including Maskface Magillicutty over there.

Apparently, a simple, "Hello," just wasn't good enough, requiring a pterodactyl screech to fully introduce himself. All that came of it was shuriken, though. He'd had plenty of experience with deflecting them before, almost like he was an actual ninja, or something. Not one of those Naruto ninja who could warp space and time, but a real ninja. Wait...

Anyway, he flicked his wrist, producing his other knife. As he squatted to evade a portion of them, knocking the others out of the air as he backed into the metal box. He slammed his free fist on the up button, staying low and retreating further into the back and against a wall. The smaller he was, the less likely to be shot he was. That last hit was still bothering him, too. Any more and it'd be pretty uncomfortable. "Uncomfortable" probably meant deadly, in this case. The doors wouldn't be open for long, though. Soon, he'd be up in the highest floor drinking a martini and choking a guy on some hard candy.

The intruder was truly a master strategist. Who would have ever imagined he would be daring enough to duck!? Though his shuriken may have been bested, the great ninja Randy would not lose heart just yet. Staying low, the insane guard made his way across the office floor on all fours. Torso parallel to the floor with a gap of only a few inches, the ninja advanced on the intruder like some kind of horrible demonic spider with far more speed than he had any right to possess in that posture. During his entire dash across the floor, the fearsome Randy continued screaming a shrill battle cry much like a malfunctioning animatronic mascot being forced into a blender, foam bubbling through his mask.

To their credit, the other guards stayed the hell away from the insane ninja thingy and were content to level their weapons with both hands, opening fire on the open elevator car. Being of a smaller size than average, there was less space for the intruder to hide from the initial trajectory of the rounds, let alone any ricochets that may be bouncing around the elevator interior.

As the elevator doors finally began to close, Randy took a final leap towards his prey, pulling down his mask to reveal a dart gun held in his mouth. The crafty psychopath blew hard into the bamboo tube, launching the neurotoxin-laced dart straight at the silver-haired bandit. Though not deadly, the toxin was very fast-acting and would soon give rise to disorientation, nausea, and hallucinations if it struck its intended targets. Unfortunately, the terrifying Randy would not be able to see whether or not it did indeed land as the elevator doors sealed shut in the immediate wake of the dart.

Well, if a lifetime of horror novels and B movies taught him anything, it was about time to leave. These assholes were going to force him to use his skillz again, though. Those guns aiming directly at him were a sign that bullets would soon come, so a portal magically appeared to redirect them away from the elevator. A second one was in the air out in the office, aiming at the masky man from every 9 year old's dreams after watching a bad movie. Not fatally, but more at the leg area. Luckily, the same would hold true for any blow darts that came through, with the portal closing at the same time as the doors.

It was a smooth ride up the single floor to the top. As it rose, he smashed the control panel off the elevator, pulling at some wire to bring them into full view. The doors opened to the office, at which time he clipped through a handful of the brightly colored things to disable the buttons from being pressed again. From there, he just stepped in to see who he was really dealing with here.

Having successfully evaded the overly violent guards and awkwardly angsty ninja, the intruder's ride on the elevator would be a short one. The car only had a single floor to travel up before it shuddered to a sudden stop. As the metallic doors slid open, the first sight directly ahead would be the elderly owner of the building himself, Benjamin Langley. White hair hanging down to frame his gaunt features and oddly mismatched eyes, the transportation tycoon had a smile on his face and was already waving as the doors opened. Unfortunately for the intruder, he was only waving with one hand as the other hit one of the many control buttons on his desk. As soon as the elevator doors opened, a small explosion would detonate just above the elevator, destroying the main and emergency breaks in order to send the metal box plummeting back down to the very first floor as a makeshift rocket coffin to hell.