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londoncallingrpgOkay. This could be worse.
Sure he’s still favoring his right leg after crashing through a window and his left hearing aid is futzing up, but he can cope with those. He’s got two knives strapped to his right thigh and left calf, alongside a padded gym bag that’s slung over his shoulder like the bow and quiver they contain. Dressed in torn jeans and a wool coat, he’s given himself an underconfident slouch, playing up his bad leg. The result is the picture of a man pushing forty who works out like he’s in his prime and suffers an injured ACL for his troubles.
His target is three meters ahead of him, window shopping with no idea that she’s being followed.
She’s got to be twenty-three, tops, cute and sweet in a wholesome way. The type you’d never figure for a spy. Hell, you’d hardly figure she has more than cotton fluff up there.
It’s why she’s a good spy. Tasha would like her.
So now just has to keep walking too. Pretend to think about buying something here. Grab a can of soda there. Keep his head down but his eyes peeled and he’ll get her pinned down.
After half an hour, his target pulls something from her pocket and it looks like a wadded up receipt. For a second, Clint almost second guesses himself as she throws it in the trash but there’s no mistaking the white chalk mark on the trash can that wasn’t there before.
So she’s signaled her handler. Now I need to follow her and find her dead drop.
[[Find Clint in any part of the tracking process! OTA!]]
Sure he’s still favoring his right leg after crashing through a window and his left hearing aid is futzing up, but he can cope with those. He’s got two knives strapped to his right thigh and left calf, alongside a padded gym bag that’s slung over his shoulder like the bow and quiver they contain. Dressed in torn jeans and a wool coat, he’s given himself an underconfident slouch, playing up his bad leg. The result is the picture of a man pushing forty who works out like he’s in his prime and suffers an injured ACL for his troubles.
His target is three meters ahead of him, window shopping with no idea that she’s being followed.
She’s got to be twenty-three, tops, cute and sweet in a wholesome way. The type you’d never figure for a spy. Hell, you’d hardly figure she has more than cotton fluff up there.
It’s why she’s a good spy. Tasha would like her.
So now just has to keep walking too. Pretend to think about buying something here. Grab a can of soda there. Keep his head down but his eyes peeled and he’ll get her pinned down.
After half an hour, his target pulls something from her pocket and it looks like a wadded up receipt. For a second, Clint almost second guesses himself as she throws it in the trash but there’s no mistaking the white chalk mark on the trash can that wasn’t there before.
So she’s signaled her handler. Now I need to follow her and find her dead drop.
[[Find Clint in any part of the tracking process! OTA!]]
