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I Wish I Was a
Little Bit Taller

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Born: 20 December 1985
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Character Quote: I Spy With a Little Eye
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Age: 30
Player: Bry
Joined: 5-July 17
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Last Seen: May 21 2018, 01:54 PM
Local Time: May 22 2018, 11:56 AM
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X-Men Gold

My Content
Mar 13 2018, 06:44 PM
Things were progressing quite nicely for Bolivar Trask. Never mind the civil unrest on the island of Genosha. Such a thing had been an inevitability, an outcome that had a high probability of happening sooner or later. He had welcomed it if he was being honest, which he only ever was with himself and himself only, as the unrest gave him an excuse to test out more of Trask's technology. With the worlds military's watching. Each day was a "successful test" of one thing or the other, he cared not of the rebels achieved their goal or not. His companies technology had done what it was designed to do. The fault rested in the operator and not the machinery. Or so the spin said.

Though that was not what tonight was about, not entirely at least. Tonight's gala was simply a celebration. A time to celebrate the opening of the Genoshan Consulate, and the first step in the process to member nation status within the United Nations itself. The politics of it all was mind numbing, Bolivar employed people that dealt with all that malarkey. he simply cared about two things. Genosha recognized as a member state and the current government recognized as the legitimate government. Everything between now and that moment just so happened to be one long Trask Industries commercial. Ironic, an oppressive regime providing him with free advertisement, but the mutant question was so irksome to say the least.

The Genoshan Ambassador to the US, Gregor Malan descended the spiral staircase, stopping before he reached the bottom step to look out over the gathered dignitaries. Representatives from the nations that comprised the security council. CEO's or corporations that Bolivar had suggested. Companies that may want to do business is Genosha given its perfect location within the shipping lanes. The uprising would need squashed but that was all but a done deal if things went as planned. Tapping on his wine glass in a most haughty and pretentious manner, the new Ambassador spoke. His voice carrying a hint of French influence as he spoke the words in English. "Welcome to the consulate of Genosha. I do so hope that this can be the beginning of a most prosperous relationship...."

:: Oh god this windbag.:: Matt thought to his partner is spy crime for the night. The ever capable and incredibly dangerous Betsy Braddock. He had stopped listening to what this guy had to say, turning his attention to his work. Betsy being a prominent CEO had landed her an invite to this shindig. Her presence though was not out of a desire to be there, but out of necessity. The littlest spy that was with her knew that the best time to pilfer good information was when an Embassy was just getting started and when there was a party going on. And someone with an invite made getting in so much easier. ::I dare you to make that guy take his pants off. :: Shortpack gave a little eye roll before checking the gear he had with him one last time.

::Two things before we get started. If they have those crab puffs things... grab one. And be careful not to trip over Bolivar.:: Matt thought to Betsy, snickering a bit as he checked the clip in his tiny little side arm.

Feb 17 2018, 10:06 AM
Matt was never one to lounge around. Never one to be lazy, and always one who had a work ethic that may have been called workaholic. It was workaholic Never the less, he was always up to something. Usually several somethings as a spy like Matt always kept several things going. Waiting for a return call from his pro-mutant FBI Uncle. A source out digging for information. His tiny little super Forge built laptop running some sort of program or another, all while Matt did the things that Matt did when he was on Campus.

If he was not in the security office, writing up briefings on potential threats or monitoring the security system then he was out and about. Chatting with students, Matt loved speaking with them as they often times had a fresh perspective on things, or tucked away in his room reading or working out. Today though, Matt had decided to get more of an intensive workout. There was a secret mission going on tomorrow and he, probably more than any other person, needed to make sure he was in the best possible condition. After all, he had a not so slight height disadvantage.

Dressed in workout gear, Matt stood in the middle of the obstacle course at Xaviers. On the section that had the series of ropes that you were either to crawl underneath or delicate race through as you stepped your feet in between the gaps. Racing underneath it was easy for Matt, he was only 8 inches tall. Stepping his feet through the gaps was not an option either for the same reason. So Matt had decided to use his natural athletic talents to precariously balance on the ropes while running and jumping from section to section. All while at a height that was rather precarious for a guy like Matt. He did not mind heights though since he was pretty much a real life action figure.

Taking off at a run, Matt held his arms out as he balanced along a rope running north and south in the direction he was heading, before making a leap to a rope that ran east/west. Regaining he balance Matt quickly ran west to another rope running north/south and turned to head north again before leaping at another east/west rope. This time his foot slipped on the round rope he leaped from, making his jump way short. Matt calmly reached at his back and drew the tiny pistol that was holstered there and fired the grappling line. The barbed end biting into the rope as Matt swung like Tarzan, or Batman depending on you perspective, and deposited him on one of the metal bars that made up the frame. Calmly Matt began to inch his way up the bar line an Electrical lineman climbing a telephone pole. "Shew.. that'll get your heart rate up." He chuckled to himself as he continued his ascent.

Jan 1 2018, 02:18 PM
*High over the Atlantic*

"Flight seven five one to Kenya you are cleared for take off, run way two five over." The air traffic controller gave the go ahead to the Trask Industries Boeing C-17 Globemaster III. One of the largest Cargo planes operating on the planet. The plan is 174 feet long with a maximum payload of nearly 90 tons of cargo. Capable of cruising at 28,000 feet above sea level. Above Sea level is where the X-men would have to intercept this plane. "Control this is Flight seven five one. On approach runway two five." The pilot, a former Air Force pilot, throttled the massive cargo jet and executed a seamless takeoff like he had done hundreds of times before. Unaware of what awaited him over the Atlantic.

Cloaked in the skies above, the X-Jet followed suit, matching course and speed high above the cargo jet as the team headed out over open waters and preparing for one of their most daring missions to date. Matt paced bit on the seat he stood on going over the mission objectives. Taking the jet on the tarmac was to risky. With Trask's allegiance to the Kelly Administration and an Air Force base within close proximity. Hitting the plane on the ground was a no go. The cargo of mutation suppression collars could not under any circumstance reach Genosha, getting into a fight with the US military needed to be avoided at all cost. They not only had to stop those collars, but they had to get a few for study as well.

Tiny hands went over his gear one last time. His jet pack was firmly secured to his back. Two tiny hand guns rested under his armpits. A utility belt around his waist carried a series of ammo clips, and a pair of tiny knives that were basically microsurgery scalpels. Once his gear was checked again, Shorty turned to the team. "Last nights mission to upload a virus to the plane was a success... obviously. In five minutes the aft cargo ramp will experience a malfunction. Opening the ramp just wide enough for us to gain entry. If they follow protocol they should reduce speed and descend to about Ten thousand feet. Expect armed Trask Security inside and lets try not to blow a whole in the plane. I have a jet pack, but not enough fuel to get back to New York, and getting mistaken for plankton is not how I wish to go." Matt said with a bit of a chuckle hopping off the seat and heading to the exit hatch in the bottom of the plane. "I'll go first, draw their attention so you can get in. Flyers can help make sure I get the tether secured."

Five minutes later, warning lights and a klaxon sounded as the cargo hatch at the back cracked open wide enough for the largest X-men team member to easily slide in. As expected the plane descended and reduced speed. The bottom exit hatch of the X-jet opened and in a very action figure manner, Shortpack hopped out of the hatch tethered to his little line and used his jet pack to guide him down to the cargo plane. Quickly fastening his tiny line to the cargo jet, Shorty slipped on a small micro wench device that reeled in the large line for the regular sized X-men.

::Tether is secure. I'm heading in.:: Shortpack thought back to the team as he slipped into the jet, coming eye to eye with a Trask employee who was trying to fix the door. Shortpack drew his side arm and shot a taser round into the guys neck, giving him a convulsion as Shorty fired up his Jet pack and zoomed towards the back of the cargo jet. Making sure to dart about and catch as much attention as he could so the team could slide in while taking an accounting of the guards he saw among the five foot tall pallets that ran down the middle of the jet. ::I count 8, maybe more::

Dec 10 2017, 10:44 AM
Texts from "For Your Eyes Only" Thread


These Marc Jacob's purses are rather spacious. You should get one.

"Oh hey. This Trask Exec assist is on Tinder. So is Fred Dukes. *swipes right*

Dec 10 2017, 10:43 AM
It was the short men that caused all the trouble in the world.
Ian Fleming

Done right, the world would never know what those in Matt's profession did. The media may report of arrests of suspected terrorists planning to bomb an Embassy or an Airport, but you never read about how that arrest came to about. It was always a tip or "We learned of such and such." Never did they recount the story of the spy who infiltrated the cell, gained their favor and then pulled the double cross in a harrowing and dangerous gambit for love of country and duty.

Though the spies of the world preferred it that way. At least the good ones. They knew what they had done and that was all that matter. Spies tended to not like pomp and circumstance. They did not like public affirmation. For the sole purpose of doing so burned their identity and made it impossible for them to do it again. Matt was the same way. He did not like recognition and his reports were vague in all the right places and they were almost always filed after the job was done. Progress reports were never something he was a fan of. It was his secretive nature.

"I'll have the usual Jared." Matt said, as he slipped into the coffee stand that sat a few block away from the Trask building. His tiny, yet athletic frame making the climb up the various stacks of cups and containers to reach the top and stand on the counter but out of sight from Jared's customers.

Jared Bolts had been pushing this cart to this spot for many years. Peddling his pretentious coffees and pastries to Manhattan's business population for years. He and Matt went back a few years. Jared used to be known as Anton Kornovsky. The accountant to the Skianova Crime family based out in San Diego. The man was an accounting genius, and if not for being flipped by Matt and placed into Witness protection, the RICO case against the Skianova family would have never happened. "Two drops of caramel macchiato coming up." Jared said with a chuckle as he grabbed the eye dropper and dropped two drops into one of Matt's Tiny "I Love New York" mugs.

::Has our friend been by yet this morning?:: Matt thought as he sipped at his hot coffee and huddled in behind the register. Jared gave a shake of his head as he continued to serve his customers. Matt glanced at his watch, she would be arriving soon, and sure enough, a few minutes later he heard the same thing he had been hearing for the last two weeks. "Caffe Misto please." Matt grinned at the sound.

Caitlin Emery. 27 years old. Single. She would have a designed purse that cost what most make in a week slung over her right shoulder. She would be dressed in a business skirt. No pant suits for her. Classy and business appropriate, yet sexy all in the same breathe. She stopped by Jared's cart every morning on her way to work at Trask. The Executive Assistant to a man by the name of Malcolm, one of the Vice Presidents. She was also Matt's mark for the last few weeks. He had been through every square inch of her house. He knew more about her than she knew about herself, and today she was his way in. ::Next to the steamer is a small vile. Looks like it's empty. Open the lid and dump it in.:: Matt thought to Jared as he began to move into position. Most people may have questioned Matt on what it was, but Jared was a former accountant for a family of Bratva. He was a little lax in the conscience category.

After the usual banter and paying for her coffee, Caitlin turned to leave and did what she always did. Paused just off to the side to take that first sip. Matt loved how habitual people could be, using that moment to hop from the counter and into Caitlin's over sized designer purse. He only had a few blocks to go so no time to doddle. Matt sat to work pulling out her iPhone and connecting his phone to it through Blutooth. Letting his device crack her password so he could sift through it. Though Matt being Matt, he multitasked by sending some texts to Betsy while he waited for Caitlin to make it to her top floor office.

"Good Morning Ms. Emery." Matt recognized the old gruff voice of one of the Trask Industries security guards. His name was Thomas. Early 50's Catholic man with 6 children and a parochial education to pay for. He was an honorable man who needed both this job, and his weekend painting gig. "Mam, since the rally we are searching bags. Can you set you bag down here please?" Matt's eyes shot open wide. He did not recognize this voice. It had to be someone new to the detail. He sounded young and eager. He also sounded like a rules lawyer who was bound and determined to do his job down to the letter.

"Excuse me?" Caitlin said, while Matt glanced around for somewhere to hide, or something to hide in. "That really isn't necessary." She said, Matt could feel her pulling her purse further up onto her should. "Yes it is mam. Rules are rules." It would not be the first time Matt had gotten busted trying to sneak into a building by a random search of someone purse, but this mission was way more important than those others. This one was crucial. Matt gathered his things and prepared for the worst...
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