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{{a|opcobooneadventure|{{image|SIV|png|}}}}“When it came, the end-game came down fast and hard. It was in a skirmish with a rogue [[structured investment vehicle]] in the Caymans. | {{a|opcobooneadventure|{{image|SIV|png|}}}}===Synopsis=== | ||
MCA drops remaining irregulars unit on the beach at Cayman brac. The mission is to liberate is a detachment of SICAVs help captive by enemy stocklending counterparts who are using it as a cheap source of sales credits. | |||
===Prologue=== | |||
“When it came, the end-game came down fast and hard. It was in a skirmish with a rogue [[structured investment vehicle]] in the Caymans.” | |||
=== | === Beach landing === | ||
Bundie | Group Captain David Bundie set his jaw. He scanned the ragged remnants of his company, lined up on a pew and hooked into the [[static margin]] line. Of the original 60, seven soldiers remained. | ||
The old [[MCA]] transporter was a Spartan crate. It rattled and droned and swept low across the water. | |||
The combatant units around the Cayman theatre were battle-hardened [[Limited liability company|LLC]]<nowiki/>s. They went right down the capital structure. Bundie mandated prep for [[Equity securities|stocks]]. Shoulder-mounted [[Master Securities Lending Agreement|Mizzlers]] and, in case of [[Agent lender|ALD]] cointel interference, a brace of bump-stock [[Pledge GMSLA|pledge model]]s. To handle [[synthetic equity swap|synthetic]] light arms, they packed with late-model [[2002 ISDA Master Agreement|ISDA]]<nowiki/>s retrofitted with [[dynamic margin]] [[CSA]]s. | |||
Frenchie | And then there was Frenchie. He had an assortment of exotic continental fire-irons: an antique [[FBF]] side-loader, a vol-insulated CMOF and his trusty [[OSLA Anatomy|Osler]] if they really got in a jam. | ||
Bundie addressed the line. “Okay, lads, this is it. Anyone who wants can stay —” | |||
They didn’t let him finish. They barked, “Sir! No, Sir!” in staccato unison. | |||
They wouldn’t have it any other way: it was written in their eyes: it flowed wordlessly between them. They functioned like a single organism. Bundie looked down, shut his eyes and smiled. “All right, my lovelies, all right.” | |||
The [[Confirmation - ISDA Provision|confirm]] squawked. The [[Close-out netting|netting flag]] flashed steady green. | |||
“All right, lads, we’re over the target trade date. Let’s rock this” | |||
They set their [[IM]] dials to 20, shuffled along the cargo deck and numbered off as they dropped out of the [[Master Confirmation Agreement|MCA]]. | |||
Bundie said, “THREE.” | |||
Biff said, “SEVEN.” | |||
[[General counsel|Chip]] said, “EIGHT.” | |||
Swart said, “TWENTY-FIVE.” | |||
Tucker said, “THIRTY-ONE.” | |||
The kid looked with the radio unit gulped. Just him and the Frenchman left. | |||
Frenchie grinned. “''Allez, garçon''.” | |||
The kid dithered. | |||
“Nervous?” | |||
The kid nodded. | |||
“First time?” | |||
The kid scowled. “I’ve been nervous plenty of times.” He bolted, hollering, “THIRTY-NINE.” | |||
Frenchie slapped the tin, yelled, “SOIXANTE-NEUF” and fell away towards the roiling combat theatre. The [[Master Confirmation Agreement|MCA]] clambered into the sky. | |||
The lads fell through anti-avoidance flak and swingeing searchlights Their chutes bloomed with collateral as they struck their margin thresholds. They floated down in a tight pattern onto the beach. | |||
The | The kid with the radio unit hit the deck first. Frenchie was last: with five feet to go he snapped-off a salute and pulled a [[three-point hero drop]] in the high-tide flotsam. | ||
[[Rehypothecation|Rehypothecator]] choppers hung low: they made a devilish din, rucked up the tree-top foliage and drew attention from the unit. The boys yukked it up, packed up their ATEs and hit the tree-line. | |||
=== On-field briefing and the Liquidator === | === On-field briefing and the Liquidator === | ||
The unit formed up under the trees. | The unit formed up under the trees. | ||
Bundie clamped a hand over his hat and bellowed over the racket: “This could get ''tasty'', lads. Hostiles in these parts are well-organised and well-armoured: [[limited recourse]] shielding fore and aft.” | Bundie clamped a hand over his hat and bellowed over the racket: “This could get ''tasty'', lads. Hostiles in these parts are well-organised and well-armoured: [[limited recourse]] shielding fore and aft.” | ||
Tucker chomped on his cheroot. He split a toothy grin and patted his barrel. | Tucker chomped on his cheroot. He split a toothy grin and patted his barrel. It was one ungainly bastard. It had some universal dock on the magazine. | ||
The comlink chattered. It was [[Cassandra Lieberman|Cassie Lieberman]] from the Risk Office. “Heads up, fellas: we are reading thin-cap [[espievie]] operatives in the area. Aural vector says they are headed your way. Margin up, people.” | |||
“Ain’t no pissant [[Repackaging vehicle|LRV]] going get in the way of ''this'' honey. I call it the ''Liquidator.''” | “Ain’t no pissant [[Repackaging vehicle|LRV]] going get in the way of ''this'' honey. I call it the ''Liquidator.''” | ||
“What the hell is ''that'', Tucks?” said Frenchie. “Did you make eet at ’ome?” | |||
Tucker shrugged. “It’s a [[Prime brokerage agreement|P.B.A.]] It’s got ''herbs'', my dudes. Multi-calibre. Universal [[master netting agreement|netter]]. It’s got stocks, recalls, [[dynamic margin|telescopic margin]] lending, [[Initial margin|I.M. recalibration]] real time. I had it built to custom spec in the [[Linklaters|Links]] chop shop.” He handed it to Chippy. “Have a go at this baby —” | |||
Chippy waved it about. | |||
Tucker ducked and swayed. “Whoa, man, Just point that bad boy the fuck away from ''me''.” | Tucker ducked and swayed. “Whoa, man, Just point that bad boy the fuck away from ''me''.” | ||
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The air boiled. The boys hit the deck. There was an unholy blam and a wolf of blue flame. Chippy flew ten feet back and landed in a heap. Tucker flapped smoke away and spluttered. | The air boiled. The boys hit the deck. There was an unholy blam and a wolf of blue flame. Chippy flew ten feet back and landed in a heap. Tucker flapped smoke away and spluttered. | ||
“''Jesus''. | “''Jesus!''” | ||
Eighty feet hence, the charred stump of a beach palm smouldered. Forty feet beyond that, what was left of palm of it crackled and smoked on the sand. A cloud mushroomed above the clearing. | |||
Frenchie chuckled. Biff whistled. | |||
Chippy was out cold. | |||
Tucker grinned, slapped Chippy’s chops and brought his buddy back topside. | Tucker grinned, slapped Chippy’s chops and brought his buddy back up topside. | ||
“You like? Huh?” | “You like? Huh?” | ||
The black mushroom | Chippy, prone, moaned. The black mushroom woofed and dissipated. | ||
Bundie scrambled to his feet, glaring. “Jesus, Tucker! You’ll kill the lot of us! They’ll see that blast signal for miles around!” | |||
=== The SIV advance === | === The SIV advance === | ||
On cue, beyond the dunes: a low, mechanical clanking. It sounded heavy. Relentless. ''Huge''. It sounded like a max-vol slice of hell. | |||
“We have ears on it, Cass.” | “We have ears on it, Cass.” | ||
The clanking ramped up. | The clanking ramped up. | ||
Chippy, still prone, groaned. | |||
“What ze hell is ''zat''?” said Frenchie. | “What ze hell is ''zat''?” said Frenchie. | ||
“Oh, ''great''. They’re on to us.” Bundie re-glared at Tucker. | “Oh, ''great''. They’re on to us.” Bundie re-glared at Tucker. Tucker shrugged. | ||
Bundie held up a paw. “O.K., this is [[top urgent]] now, boys. Hostiles are imminent.” | |||
Chippy came around slow. Tucker face-dashed him from a canteen. | The unit shucked their [[Master Securities Lending Agreement|MSLAs]] and formed a circle round Chippy. He came around ''slow''. Tucker face-dashed him from a canteen. He moaned. | ||
Bundie said, “We got an | Bundie said, “We got an I.D. on the SICAV yet, kiddo?” | ||
The radio operator was a kid of barely eighteen. He ran a [[redline]]. “A ... a ... rel ... reloadable [[MTN]] c ... c ... configuration of s ... some sort, sir. P ... p ... programmable, most likely.” | The radio operator was a kid of barely eighteen. He ran a [[redline]]. “A ... a ... rel ... reloadable [[MTN]] c ... c ... configuration of s ... some sort, sir. P ... p ... programmable, most likely.” | ||
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We ... we ... we are detecting background heat signature of — ” | We ... we ... we are detecting background heat signature of — ” | ||
“Of? Well, come on: spit it out lad.” | The lad stopped. | ||
“Of? Well, come on: spit it out, lad.” | |||
“A [[Family office|GFO]].” | “A [[Family office|GFO]].” | ||
Frenchie let out a low whistle. “Une | Frenchie let out a low whistle. “Une ''bureau-famille''? In Cayman? ’E is a long way from ’ome, ''avec certitude''.” | ||
The clanking got real. | |||
Bundie swept up the map. “We need to move off the beach, lads. And ''fast''.” | Bundie swept up the map. “We need to move off the beach, lads. And ''fast''.” | ||
====SICAVs?==== | ====SICAVs?==== | ||
The unit fanned. An [[Memorandum of understanding|MOU]] — a ''big'' bastard — smashed through the pines. Its armoured turret swivelled and lined them up. | |||
“Jesus. [[SICAV]]! ''Split''!” | “Jesus. [[SICAV]]! ''Split''!” | ||
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“''Wait''.” Bundie sniffed the air. “Something’s — not — ''right''. They’re — it’s just — ” | “''Wait''.” Bundie sniffed the air. “Something’s — not — ''right''. They’re — it’s just — ” | ||
But the boys didn’t wait. They weren’t listening. They smelled a firefight. They | But the boys didn’t wait. They weren’t listening. They smelled a firefight. They struck positions and pressed. In a co-ordinated sequence, they drew their [[ISDA Master Agreement|ISDAs]] and banged in margin clips. | ||
Tucker and Frenchie went left. Biffer went right. Swart | Tucker and Frenchie went left. Biffer went right. Swart flicked off her vol damper and went charging in on foot with a sawn-off [[GMRA Anatomy|repo]]. | ||
Bundie stood motionless in the clearing. Adrenalin flooded his core. “Something’s not right, lads,” he | Bundie stood motionless in the clearing. Adrenalin flooded his core. “Something’s not right, lads,” he muttered, but the boys were in the theatre and nothing he could do could change the course of conflict now. | ||
The unit kept advancing. | |||
Only the Lance-Corporal even heard him. The boy stayed close. “What do you think it is, sir?” | |||
Bundie mussed the lad’s hair. “I dunno, son, but stay frosty — this is going to get sticky. Be prepared to move fast on my command. You may have to make some calls. | |||
The boy regarded him with a steeliness that took him aback. | The boy regarded him with a steeliness that took him aback. | ||
Bundie pressed a weapon into the boy’s hand | “I’ve your back, lad.” | ||
“I know, sir. But who’s got yours?” | |||
Bundie smiled at the impertinence. This was what he wanted in his unit. ''Spunk''. He pressed a weapon into the boy’s hand: a late-model [[ISDA Master Agreement|ISDA]]. The boy gaped. | |||
“''You'' do, son. We stand, or fall, together.” | “''You'' do, son. We stand, or fall, together.” | ||
The boy nodded. | The boy nodded. Again, with the steely stare. | ||
At that moment the [[SICAV]]’s giant conduit tracks started rotating forward. | |||
Biff called it: “Stand by: SICAV rolling.” | |||
The issue/redemption protocols coughed into life with a belch of diesel. | |||
Frenchie yipped. “Oh, come on, ''cherie'' — we ’ave a little fun, ''n’est-ce pas''? —” | Frenchie yipped and cocked his F.B.F. | ||
Bundie barked, “hold it, Frenchie.” | |||
“Oh, come on, ''cherie'' — we must ’ave a little fun, ''n’est-ce pas''? —” | |||
Bundie shook his head. “Let’s hit the trees, boys.” | Bundie shook his head. “Let’s hit the trees, boys.” | ||
What happened next would be with the boy for the rest of his life — a period which turned out to be | Lance Corporal checked his DV and muttered co-ordinates into his comlink. What happened next would be with the boy for the rest of his life — a period which turned out to be longer than, as he watched the disaster unfold, he held any hope of expecting to see. The caterpillars ate up the sand. | ||
A SICAV should be no match for an experienced unit of seasoned killers like the Irregulars. [[SICAV]]s had mucho grunt on the flat and toted decent firepower — you couldn’t be casual with them at close quarters — but against anyone who knew what they was doing, they were easy pickings. They were unwieldy, slow, generally only adept at passive and retail conflict: ''limited'' downside protection against liquidity drains, underpowered in choppy markets — basically under-gunned. As such, they tended to be detailed with greenhorn sappers a fighting force could afford to lose. | A SICAV should be no match for an experienced unit of seasoned killers like the Irregulars. [[SICAV]]s had mucho grunt on the flat and toted decent firepower — you couldn’t be casual with them at close quarters — but against anyone who knew what they was doing, they were easy pickings. They were unwieldy, slow, generally only adept at passive and retail conflict: ''limited'' downside protection against liquidity drains, underpowered in choppy markets — basically under-gunned. As such, they tended to be detailed with greenhorn sappers a fighting force could afford to lose. | ||
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Bundie hiffed in a percussive [[QIB]]. It blapped spectacular. It threw up dirt and sand and left a decent ditch. The SIV stopped on a dime. It backed up. Its front turret swivelled round and regarded the crater. A fire hose extended. and filled it with water. The SIV rolled over it. | Bundie hiffed in a percussive [[QIB]]. It blapped spectacular. It threw up dirt and sand and left a decent ditch. The SIV stopped on a dime. It backed up. Its front turret swivelled round and regarded the crater. A fire hose extended. and filled it with water. The SIV rolled over it. | ||
“Holy hell,” muttered Tucker. “Self-sourcing liquidity. That's pretty cool.” | “Holy hell,” muttered Tucker. “Self-sourcing [[liquidity]]. That's pretty cool.” | ||
Bundie thought, ''that's more than “cool”. That’s ''unbelievable''. Where the hell is it sourcing that cash?'' Then Bundie knew it: ''this was no ordinary [[SICAV]]''. | Bundie thought, ''that's more than “cool”. That’s ''unbelievable''. Where the hell is it sourcing that cash?'' Then Bundie knew it: ''this was no ordinary [[SICAV]]''. | ||
“Throw in another. They have limited reserves. They can’t do that indefinitely.” | Chip said, “Throw in another. They have limited reserves. They can’t do that indefinitely.” | ||
“Wait — ” Bundie muttered. | |||
But Tucker was fast. He bit off the pin and tossed in another [[QIB]]. “Roll ''this'', Fatboy,” | |||
The QIB flew. The [[SIV]] retooled. It snapped back it hose and cracked an ack-ack out of the turret. It ''shot the [[QIB]] out of the air''. | |||
It fizzed and spun and molten glassed the sand. | |||
''Scheisse.'' How the hell was it doing ''that''? It was gaming out scenarios and learning the Irregulars manoeuvres as fast as they could change them up. | |||
Bundie clocked | The rear gunner popped the turret. Bundie clocked his uniform insignia — ''that’s three-star MD at the mandate and a EVP on the confirmator''. And they were tooled the fuck up: these were not standard issue CP-shooters. | ||
The [[Structured investment vehicle|SIV]] anticipated his every move. It was like it had a direct line into his goddamn amygdala. | The [[Structured investment vehicle|SIV]] anticipated his every move. It was like it had a direct line into his goddamn amygdala. | ||
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“Take cover!” | “Take cover!” | ||
Bundie grabbed the lad by his collar and thrust him violently into the base of the cavity formed by the uprooted smoking stump of | Bundie grabbed the lad by his collar and thrust him violently into the base of the cavity formed by the uprooted smoking stump of the palm tree. “Hey!” he squeaked. He cracked his head and woozed. | ||
There was a moment of clarity. A sparkular gleam, refracting a rainbow of hope, then a subsonic dropout as Tucker squeezed. A white hot beam of dynamic IM spewed from that magnificent weapon. The arcing white light of a 6(a) notice lit the sky. It hit the SIV’s main margin tank and blew a great hole in it. The liquidity exploded, fanning great arcing sparks of white hot glitter into the sky. They hovered for a moment, congealed into balls of liquid lightening, then zapped out, like targeted missiles, straight at the other irregulars: first Swart, then Chipper, then Tucker, then Frenchie then the squibs whipsawed at Bundie’s tree trunk, slashing here, snapping there as if feeling for Bundie and his ISDA. | There was a moment of clarity. A sparkular gleam, refracting a rainbow of hope, then a subsonic dropout as Tucker squeezed. A white hot beam of dynamic IM spewed from that magnificent weapon. The arcing white light of a 6(a) notice lit the sky. It hit the SIV’s main margin tank and blew a great hole in it. The liquidity exploded, fanning great arcing sparks of white hot glitter into the sky. They hovered for a moment, congealed into balls of liquid lightening, then zapped out, like targeted missiles, straight at the other irregulars: first Swart, then Chipper, then Tucker, then Frenchie then the squibs whipsawed at Bundie’s tree trunk, slashing here, snapping there as if feeling for Bundie and his ISDA. |