The Rahab's Story

The solitary white van crawled along at a steady pace, the tires rolling over the asphalt smoothly. The men inside, four in total, all belonged to a terrorist cell calling itself the Rahab. The two in the driver and passenger seats donned expensive-looking suits, underneath which they were strapped down with suicide vests, just in case things got messy. Hiding behind their seats were their two brethren, fully dressed in the Rahab's signature combat gear, armed with AR-15s. All four men felt nary a murmur of fear or anxiety; on the contrary, this is exactly the type of operation they were trained to carry out.

Their target was the Wing City Plaza memorial. Rage had picked it out, wanted it destroyed in a torrent of explosions. It was all to send a message: nothing is sacred. He intended to bring chaos with him, and he decided to start by tearing down a source of inspiration and hope.

The van parked in a lot mere meters away from the memorial, the rear of the van running parallel the stone structure. In a large, green case at the back of the van was an RPG-7, complete with the warhead it fired. One of the men in the back, an eighteen year old named Nisim, was the one to arm himself with the weapon. The driver made sure Nisim was ready before putting the car in drive, his foot on the brake.

Opening the doors, he clambered out, crouched low, and took aim. Squeezing the trigger, he sent the ordnance hurling through the air, watching it strike the stone monument and shatter it into many different sized pieces of rubble. Once the young man was safely within the vehicle, the driver gunned the engine, Nisim closing the door after he got his bearings. Their work was done, and they needed to make an escape.



Down the road at a nearby cafe, he hid his smile behind a cup of tea. As people screamed in their terror and confusion, he merely smirked at how well his plan had been carried out. It was a fine debut for the Rahab, and he had further plans for this city, to be enacted later on. For now, however, he merely payed his bill and casually walked away.

.

It was a strange place they now found themselves in, having scoped it out to the best of their ability for some days now beforehand. The conditions surrounding its existence left Rage in a daze for now, but he was pleasantly surprised that he had found such an area. He walked amongst the myriad populace of the Undermarket, scanning about for all manner of weaponry and resources he could possibly use; guns, explosives, armor, even potential recruits were prime targets.

Behind him strode two men of the Rahab, each dressed in their tan fatigues, carrying Glock 17s in their thigh-mounted holsters. They refrained from arming themselves with rifles to avoid a potential conflict, preferring the subtlety of handguns so as not to make too much of a scene. Besides, they had four other men waiting in the van mere moments away, fully outfitted for a skirmish should the need arise.

Various peddlers lined the sidewalks and filled the shops, beckoning potential customers through thresholds and down alleyways to offer them the deal of a lifetime on items of questionable quality and/or legality. It was a location after Rage's own heart, and he felt more comfortable here than in his own home. His eyes shot this way and that, coming to rest upon a building he deduced was the shop of an arms merchant.

He headed inside, prodding about for new items to outfit the Rahab with.

Fenrias Halvard leaned against the entrance to a darkened alley. He watched the happenings of the Undermarket with keen eyes from the shadows as he searched for a potential mark or client.

Remy "Gambit" LeBeau straightened his coat as he noticed several suspicious patrons entering the market. This place had sure become popular since it was confirmed to have existed... damn those pesky news reporters! Wing City had always been a place of change, but... his precious respite!

Finishing up his transaction with the final vendor he'd come here to see, Gambit then began to make his way back towards his age-old home.