IC: Dawn of the Artifacts., In Character Thread. Options

[Chrysalis]

Vera starts playing with the necklace again, seeing if she can get a rise from anyone else.

"Vaccinations for the group will cost 400 nuyen each, which if I am correct..." she looks idly around the room "is 2000 nuyen. A good emergency pack will cost 1000 nuyen, including medicines for the more common diseases, not to mention the short notice. Some of the stuff, like a portable defiblirator you can't find at your local stuffer shack."

She said the the last two words, in a manner a humanis policlubber might say trog.

"As for Lagos, just because you can carry weapons, does not mean you should. It's a common etiquette issue, like in Redmond - I guess, although perhaps Mr Pope would tell us more about that. Perhaps I should ask instead, is there anything more I should know?"

[Karoline]

Hawkeye considers Pope for several moments Seems to have the best interests in mind It makes for a smoother mission And he hasn't done anything But can I trust him? She certainly seems to be staring at him, sizing him up. Her eyes aren't on his arm, but on his face, thoughtful Some people can be trusted, I told myself that.

Not him though"I've got some guns, ammo, and other things." She gives a mischievous grin and winks at Pope. "I have research to do and things to gather. I'll see you on the tarmac." And with seemingly little desire to socialize further, she moves to leave, though she does give Vera a look before she goes. What kind of look is hard to say, seemingly just curiosity at why she keeps playing with her necklace, as that is where her eyes move after a moment.

As a parting shot once she has opened the door (Presuming it is openable) "And if you're going to wear armor under your clothing, you should at least get something that hides it better." She waves, her voice almost playful at that last comment.

[Mister Juan]

We've been here for about 10 minutes, and already, everyone's ready to pack their shit up and leave. The question is; are these people so good at what they do, that they already know all they have to? Or are they green enough to think everything will go as they please? Somehow, I can't make my mind up if its professionalism, or recklessness.“Guns, ammo and others things...” I repeat, not really sure if I heard her correctly. I put my commlink away. This kid is really starting to get on my nerves. I ain't the kind of guy who gets along with everyone, especially people from a whole other generation. If this is the new sense of humour kids have these days, I'm really behind. The halfer looks reliable enough. The chick seems in control. The kind, on the other hand, seems like she just wandered in here with no clue as the what's going on.

She's almost at the door when I decide to say something. I was sorta waiting up for someone else to call her drek. Apparently, no one has the balls, or no one cares.

“Hoi kid; you for real? I don't give a fuck” I look towards Miss J, shrugging some sort of apology for my language “if you've got guns and bullets. I wanna know what kind you're planning on packing How far you can engage targets. I wanna know now cause by the looks of things, I'll be the main gun on this op, and I need to know what you've got covered.”

I get up from my chair. Sitting down like this, just talking, makes my skin crawl. I can feel my jacked up nervous system twitching here and there.

“Mac there”, I nod toward the dwarf “was clear enough. I know what his deal is, and what he'll bring to the table. Lady over there,” I nod toward the elf “well... she ain't been crystal clear yet but we got a general idea. And just by the way she carries herself, I ain't worried one bit. You, on the other hand, already seem like a big fucking overconfident liability. Overconfident assholes are usually the first one to get shot in the field.”

[pbangarth]

It would appear some conversation of note occurs before Hodder leaves. As Hawkeye approaches the door, Hodder steps to the door as if to open it for her, but holds it shut a moment. This is a critical stage, he figures, in the gelling of the team. Discord now may take a long time to overcome, time they don't have. He summons his most charismatic demeanor. [OOC: CHA 7, Influence Group 1, if it matters]

"It may be difficult for us to be completely open with each other at this early stage. God knows openness is not a survival trait in much of this world. But each of us brings talents to this mission, else we would not have been suggested and called. Dexter looks like a man who has spent years keeping his people alive by keeping track of the options. That's what he is doing now, and we may appreciate it mightily in the next few days. Young one, please consider that before you judge. There is more danger in keeping him uninformed than there is in making some of your capabilities known to him.

"And Dexter, you too played your cards close to your chest earlier. It's the nature of our ... profession ... that we are thrust together with people we don't know, to do a job. We have to cooperate, or we may lose more than our profit. It is only logical that we prepare ourselves as a team, not as disparate and conflicting individuals."

Then Hodder steps back from the door and looks at the two of them, with a raised eyebrow.

[Karoline]

She doesn't trust either of the men, and so isn't particularly pleased at one of them holding the door shut for her. "Didn't I already say my engagement range is up to fifteen hundred meters? Do I need to spell out what sort of weapon I might use at that range?" She sounds angry Talon wouldn't have missed that Talon? She puts a hand to her forehead and rubs it a bit, shaking her head slightly.

She isn't entirely sure herself why she is fighting the point so much. It isn't as though they won't find out tomorrow anyway. All she knows is that her head is starting to hurt. Without realizing it, she slips into Japanese when she next speaks.

[ Spoiler ]

"Fine, I have a rifle with eight clips, a shotgun with six, and a holdout with two. I also have grenades: flash-bang, flash-pak, and smoke. That good enough for you or do I need to give you the exact grain count in the bullets?

Without waiting for a response, or even realizing that she may not have been understood, she moves quickly out of the room, her head buzzing. She'd felt oddly trapped in those last moments... she could have defended herself if she had needed to, likely able to incapacitate the two men long enough for her to get out of there. And Talon would have helped. She doesn't bother spending any more time in the club, wanting to put distance between her and the men just in case they decide to try and come after her, a flight response having been triggered in her. Before long she is in a cab, heading towards the mall. There are some things she needs to pick up if she is going on this trip. Food and water among other things based on that travel guide.

[pbangarth]

Hodder chuckles as the girl blows by him, a conflict of emotions swirling around her in the astral. "Hmmm... considering whether to beat the drek out of me or not? Clearly, she believes she could do it. God help us all during that time of the month!. But what was that odd colouration when she held her forehead? I'll have to watch her for it again."

"Dexter, I don't know if you understand Japanese, but she has a rifle with eight clips, a shotgun with six and a holdout with two. Also grenades... flash-bang, flash-pak and smoke." No need to translate the rest. "I'm off then, myself. Bye."

[Chrysalis]

vera waited until the scene blew over, she continued to watch as the door closed behind Hodder as well.

"I'll see you Mr Pope at SeaTac, with the necessary medical equipment, and as for weapons. I usually don't carry any. Nothing you would find on a scanner anyway."

"Now if you'll excuse me, I think Durlan and I have some unfinished business, yes?"

Vera looked away from Mr Pope and arched an eyebrow at Durlan.

[SincereAgape]

Sitting at her table. Ms. Johnson watched the scene unfold before her. The women tapped her finger lightly on the table she was leaning on. After Hodder and Hawkeye, left the room. She follows suit. Leaving the room from a side exit.

An amused face permeated from Durlan. He chuckled at the tension. Yes he chuckled. But a quick glare from Dexter brought back the old stink eye.

The hearth inside the room was still burning. From inside the room, you could not hear the nose from anywhere else in the club. Meaning the nose generator somewhere in this den was doing it's job.

Durlan's attention turned towards Vera as if she was the only one in the room. His smile and eyes were full of lust.

"Yes. Please excuse us Mr. Pope. I would like to have a private meeting with Lady Vera." Durlan spoke to Dexter, keeping his eyes on Vera.

He then addressed her.

"Yes we do. I would like to compare notes with you on the upcoming mission. And being a patron of your employer, perhaps I should experience some of your talents myself."

[Karoline]

Once at the mall, it dosen't take Hawkeye long to purchase a bit of camping gear. A tent, a sleeping bag, a few days rations and some water purification tablets. She'd like to get some smart pouches to go with her pack, but the camping store in the mall doesn't have any, and she doesn't have the time to go searching around for them.

Paying for the things as Sakura Yamamoto she once again takes a cab back to her apartment, where she quickly but carefully begins packing her things. Most of her gear goes into a backpack, a smart pack actually, fitted to her perfectly to make carrying the load inside it that much easier. Her new gear all get a good running over with a tag eraser to make sure there aren't any annoying RFID tags that she doesn't want showing up.

Ms. J may have said that they'd be staying in hotels, but it was always good to be safe, and so the water purification tablets, a week's worth of rations, the tent, and a number of other miscellaneous items went in the pack, just to be safe. The sleeping bag, along with the rest of the gear she'd be taking with her back into her suitcase. With less clothing to take on something like this, and a few other unneeded items, it only took one of the cases instead of both.

All that done, she changes out of her fancy dress, brushes her teeth, and goes to bed. She may not get a full night's sleep, but she should get more than enough to be able to get on the airplane and stay awake on there. She doesn't think it'd be a good idea to sleep with those men around, besides, she still has more to learn.

[SincereAgape]

Sunday, April 8th. 0400-0500 Hours. Seattle, UCAS.
Seattle-Tacoma International Airport.


It's raining. A light drizzle. The rain is actually quiet cool and refreshing refreshing, like the other side of your pillow. Ms. Johnson has provided the five of you the information about your departure flight. All of the security measures have been taken care of. No annoying astral scans, no need for MADs or other informal hindrances. Once each of you arrives at the airport, you were given instructions to send a message to Ms. Johnson's commlink, notifying her that you have arrived.

The hangar that Ms. Johnson told everyone to meet at is in the Northwest corner of the airfield, around the other private airfields. There is a security checkpoint which has be passed through. Each one of you was given a RFID tag which allows you to pass. This private portion of the airport has a parking lot that has only a few cars stationed there. There is also a few set of vans as well.

[Airstrip]

Ahead there is a set of three hangars that share a loading area. It is there where Ms. Johnson and her plane are awaiting the each of you. When you individually arrive, you see Ms. Johnson dressed in Safari gear. Her hair is tied in a ponytail, and she seems to be coordinating a few other metahumans in loading the GulfStream Luxe V Executive Jet (Page 113 Arsenal) it appears all of you will be using to travel to Cairo. The jet is a beauty. Sleek black in color. Ms. Johnson is speaking to a 4 foot tall dwarf with a mustache and is balding with black hair on the sides. You presume he is the pilot because of the Control Rig mounted in his hands.

There is also a Hermes Stepvan which is carrying the medical supplies, Vera had picked out for the trip. The G-5 is the only air shuttle occupying the airstrip.

[pbangarth]

Sunday, April 8th. 0400-0500 Hours. Seattle, UCAS.
Seattle-Tacoma International Airport.

Public transportation gets Hodder to the private area of the airport. The RFID get him through the checkpoint no problem, though he gets an odd look for his sunglasses. It's still dark outside and raining, and he's not even a brother.

Dressed in a jumpsuit and work boots, he could almost pass for airport staff. Except for the three bags he carries that together look as big as he is. Yet he saunters across the tarmac towards the plane as if he were strolling through the park. Scoping the loading procedure, he drops his two large packs with the material to be loaded, and hangs on to the third pack. Then he wanders over to Ms. Johnson. He places the third pack gingerly on the ground beside him, and smiles at Ms. Johnson and the pilot. There seems to be a breeze around him.

"Morning, boss. Looks like another beautiful day in paradise." He takes off and stows the sunglasses, and their purpose becomes clear. His eyes are shot through with flashes of sky blue and electric sparks. "Anything I can do?"

[Chrysalis]

Sunday, April 8th. 0400-0500 Hours. Seattle, UCAS.
Seattle-Tacoma International Airport.

Vera giggles in the back seat of a Honda 3240, as she drinks Kristall from the bottle between making out with Mark Casperson. Numerous aerial micrdones are following them around as they rush along the tarmac to the hangar of a plane that is just taxing into landing.

The plane opens its doors and a raven haired french woman walks out. She is shocked as Marc and his date stumble out of the convertible giggling like crazies.

"Iz thees wai I am engaged to yeh? Yeh are such a peeg Maark."

"This? This is nothing Vivianne, this is but a triffle. Come on darling talk to me." Marc stumbles with the bottle in his hand as the woman marched back into the jet followed by the soon to be former boyfriend. The door closed behind them.

Vera drunkenly reposes on the side of the sports car as a dozen newscasts take her video. Some use somatic sim recordings to add texture to the images. Already the jewels around her neck are being called the widow maker and several thousand Matrix agents have started up guerilla marketing as well as the mainstream adverts on this exceptional find soon to be available from a prestigious auction house. Vashoun Island also announces its next line of clothing as well, focused on 1890s hauteculture lingerie.

Her clothes that were once on during the interview now look well used and mauled, revealing tanatalizingly what she wears underneath. As she languishes on the back seat, a GMC Bulldog van comes. Men in dark buttoned suits and white gloves remove her necklace and ring. An elderly dwarf carefully studies the jewellery before placing them in an ornate Bulgari case and into a safe at the back of the van.

The name of the auction house minutes before obscure except for a single name tag, which they all focused on. Charterhouse.

The cameras continue to follow the van as it speeds away into the early airport dawn.

Vera is shaken ruefully awake by Bubbles and carefully leaves the scene. She picks up several plastic tax-free bags from the back of the car and wobbles her way to the plane. Vera arrives with moused up hair, her dress holding to her body by a few threads, and there is a definite smell of very expensive champagne and sex on her.

"Hi boss." She hiccups which causes a general fit of the giggles.

[Karoline]

The beeping of my commlink wakes me up. I yawn, stretch, and sit up, blinking the sleep from my eyes. It wasn't quite enough, not when my schedule was already off from just having flown in from Japan. At least Africa was closer to Japan, hopefully I'll be able to sleep right after landing and catch up. There was that ad in the taxi, about the sleep regulators. One of those might be handy if I keep having to jump around like this. Something to look into when I get back, or get somewhere.

A hot shower would be nice... too bad the water coming out of the tap this morning can be considered lukewarm at best. Still, the cooler water is a bit more bracing, helps me wake up more. After drying off, combing out my hair and placing it into a simple shape, the hair about 2/3rds of the way down clipped to near the back of my head, I had to pick out what to wear.

Cham Besides being easy to hide in, the Chameleon armor can easily change to look like clothing. The legs change to 'show' my own legs, the arms as well. A few more tweaks and it looks like a pair of jean shorts and a black t-shirt with a red 'flame' kanji on it. For a bit of added flare I do a bit more work to get the kanji to wave and flicker some, like a flame itself, though still easy enough to read.

I could have gone in normal clothing, kept the armor in a case until later, but after last time, I figured it was better to be safer. I'd be taking more than a holdout with me on the plane as well. I didn't figure on firing while we were flying, but still, best not sorry.

After checking my backpack and suitcase one last time, and after going over the rest of the apartment to make sure there wasn't anything important I'd forgotten, I head out to catch another cab. I could have taken my own bike, but didn't want to leave it at the airport, or trust the autopilot to make its way back here.

It was a good thing I'd gotten that tag before I'd left, or I'd have set off those scanners without any real trouble. I'm about half an hour early for takeoff, but I figured it would be a good idea to get my gear properly stored and see if I couldn't find a secluded seat.

"Ohiyoo gozaimasu" I greeted Ms. J, not really feeling like remembering my English at the moment. The words weren't coming to me as easily this morning as they had yesterday. Yesterday I'd spoken like a perfect native, and hadn't had any problems with the words. Perhaps an after affect of losing my memory, some things come and go still.

[Kerenshara]

When you board the sleek black jet through the port side air-stair, you turn right towards the main cabin which is a spacious nineteen meters long and just under three meters wide. The appointments are plush and sinfully inviting with a selection of swiveling captains chairs and couches, all adorned in what smells like genuine leather. On the foward bulkhead is a large very hi-end trideo display. Seated in the first seat your eyes fall across as your eyes sweep the cabin is a striking young human woman. She has long blonde hair put up in an elaborately coifed French twist threaded with a black silk ribbon and whose face displays fine Slavic features. You would guess her to be about sixteen years old, but the way she's seated with her tight black leather-gloved hands laying lightly on the arms of her chair and her sleek legs crossed in what should have been a demure fashion seems to have placed her seal of personal possession on the entire aircraft.

Her tasteful makeup highlights and defines her delicate features perfectly, a dusting of color crossing her cheekbones, dark gray emphasizing her deep blue eyes and setting off her lips with a glossy red hue. She's dressed in a closely tailored black leather skirt suit which emphasizes her feminine curves and barely covers the tops of her sheer silky smoke colored stockings with their pencil-thin ruler-straight seams up the back. Beneath the open jacket you can see the black lace over blood red leather of a very high end corset which sets off the soft mounds of pale flesh above it to perfection. Her feet are adorned in fiendishly expensive and stylish 12cm stiletto heel pumps whose black leather is polished to such an extent that the overhead cabin lights glint across their surface as her raised foot bobs slowly and enticingly in contrast to the bright red contrasting soles. Her face is completely calm and impassive as her eyes take each of you in head to toe as your board the aircraft and enter the cabin.

[SincereAgape]

Sunday, April 8th. 0400-0445 Hours. Seattle, UCAS.
Seattle-Tacoma International Airport.

Ms. Johnson greets Dartha for the first time. She was a rather mysterious women who was recruited around the same time as the other runners. Hearing the tales of the horrid background counts in the astral space of Lagos, it was advised to Ms. Johnson that she recruit some magical assistance. Dartha came highly recommended. Her magical talent was supposed to be very high, but she was a relative unknown in the Shadows that Ms. Johnson walked. Ms. Johnson greeted Dartha when she arrived.

"Hello. Feel free to leave your luggage here for our pilot and flight crew to handle. And enter the aircraft. We shall leave around the designated time."

Mr. Hodder was the next to arrive. He walks up rather casually and surveys the scene.

"Morning, boss. Looks like another beautiful day in paradise." He takes off and stows the sunglasses, and their purpose becomes clear. His eyes are shot through with flashes of sky blue and electric sparks. "Anything I can do?"

Ms. Johnson smiled. "Yes. First you can simply call me Jane. Second. If you are able to assist Digits with loading the plane with the vaccinations and med-kits Vera ordered for us, that would be of great assistance."

A few minutes later, about a half an hour before 5AM, the young Japanese girl walks onto the airfield. Her cab had dropped her off in the parking lot just outside. Ms. Johnson almost did not detect her approach. When she turned around, Ms. Johnson was a little startled. But then quickly composed herself. And smiled at the girl.

"Ohiyoo gozaimasu." She said with a formal bow, one that showed she was very familiar with Japanese etiquette. "Mr. Hodder and your other teammate are already here. Feel free to leave your luggage my associates, and take any items you would like to on the plane."

About ten minutes later a sports car zooms onto the tarmac. Drifting into position, leaving the smell of burnt rubber and smoke in it's trail. The car was followed by a few microdrone cameras. Ms. Johnson begins to wave them off, motioning for the ground crew and Digits, the dwarf pilot.

"Hey! What is going on?! Get those things out of here?"


Out steps Vera. Looking as if she had been partying and socializing for the past six hours. How on Earth was she able to obtain the medkits and vaccinations for the team? She was traveling light. Very light. Only a few bags, probably with designer cloths of some type. The van comes very quickly, and picks up Vera's items before speeding off. Ms. Johnson was not pleased, but could not help but think if this was a ruse of front of the doctor's to throw the rest of us off guard or underestimate her. The ground crew and Digits found the scene amusing and entertaining.


"Hi boss." She hiccups which causes a general fit of the giggles.

"Get on the plane." She says with a glare.

Ms. Johnson looks at the ground crew. They finish off loading all of the items onto the plane. She gets on the commlink and sends a vocal chat to Dartha, Hodder, Vera, and Hawkeye. Setting up a visual and audio communications network amongst all of their commlinks.

"Hello everyone. This is Dartha, a last minute addition to the party. We are simply waiting for Mr. Pope, and then we shall depart."

[Karoline]

With the others still arriving, Hodder helping load the bags, now would seem to be a good time to find a seat, I'll get the first choice. I stick around just long enough to make sure my suitcase isn't going to be left behind before climbing the steps into the small private jet.

Having expected it to be empty I was surprised to see someone sitting in one of the jet's seats already. She was hard to miss, sitting in the front seat, sitting like she owned the jet. She isn't dressed like she was about to go on a mission, more like a night on the town... Not that I exactly look like I'm about to head off to a mission either, except maybe the backpack.

Is she...? My hand reaches back to my pack, my fingers at the zipper which had been left just slightly parted to make it easier to reach into while wearing. Before my fingers do more than alight on the zipper however, I stop and blink, giving my head a small shake. I adjust my hand to instead reach for the scruff of the pack, sliding it off my shoulders in one easy motion.

”Ohiyaoo Gozaimasu” I greet the girl, my voice just managing to not shake. She can't be, because they're dead... we made sure... and so are they... But so am I Why did I just try reaching for my gun? Giving the girl a simple nod I take a breath to calm myself, knowing I must have looked very odd just then, before walking to the back of the plane and taking one of the seats.

Calm. She isn't. She's fine. Calmness starts to return, but as what seems to be a nervous habit I being pulling the pieces of my rifle from my pack and assembling them. Oddly it seems to help me relax. Maybe the action, maybe the familiarity... or maybe the safety affording by having a powerful weapon on hand.

Once the weapon is assembled a few seconds later, I rest it across my lap, looking at the back of the girl's chair. She must be alright, I don't know why I was so freaked out at first.. maybe I thought she was someone else? That must be it. After a while I pull out my commlink and begin looking through it again... rifle still nestled in my lap.

[Chrysalis]

Vera looked over the young child in her prom dress and decided that if she wanted to look so much that she owned the plane fair enough. She suppressed a small giggle as she watched quietly as the two 16 year olds squared off against each other.

The colour on each others face changed, and the Japanese went from upset to being so sure of something and then back again to confusion. A hundred thousand synapses colliding with muscle memories. She would have to have a chat with her when they were alone. Her software measures over 10,000 signals and temperature variations and she knew every one of them.

She giggled a bit more loudly than before stumbled and sat in across from the girl, Dartha, "Excuse me, do you know where the glasses are?"

She pulled out a bottle of 18 year old Labroaigh from one of her bags, nearly slipping out of her dress.

[Kerenshara]

"Ohiyaoo Gozaimasu, Yamamoto-Chan," replies Dartha to the young woman who just boarded the plane, holding the spell to blast the other woman's aura with power if she so much as twitched to bring her hand back out of her backpack, executing a slight but still completely correct bow of one being respectful but not accepting the other's superiority without getting up from the seat.

"Fascinating" she thinks to herself as she relaxes internally "She seemed really tense there for a minute. I wonder what she was reaching for in the backpack, and what about me got her back up so quickly? Maybe this will turn out to be interesting after all."

Then another woman makes her way on board; Dartha would characterize the movement as "stumbled" except the woman executes it in a pair of stilettos, so something must be up. When the woman giggles at her and asks about glasses, she magically supresses the desire to arch an eyebrow.

"The galley is in the back of the aircraft" she says in completely accentless English. "I am certain you will find what you need there, though since we're all friends here, you could just enjoy that straight from the bottle, if that is easier" she delivers with a completely straight face and no inflection whatsoever.

"OK, this just went from 'Interesting' to 'Oops', and that's not a good thing. Drek, is the woman a Threat, a Challenge or a Fool?" she thinks to herself darkly.

[Chrysalis]

She looked at the woman. Several warning notes coming across her eyes. Most likely something magical, but that was a given in some ways. She was 16 once and she had been so sure of herself then as was the girl.

"Shh, there is no need to disrespect a nice Labroaigh, it's not cheap turkey synthohol, like your dad used to swill. Now be a darling and bring a glass please."

she put the bags on the floor and reposed against the two facing seats, her back resting lightly against the wall.

[Kerenshara]

Dartha remains completely calm and composed outwardly, successfully repressing the desire to kill the slitch for even mentioning her bastard father.

"It was not my intent to offer insult to the vintage."

She remains however pointedly seated.

[Chrysalis]

Vera reads the emotions. The poise. the lack of movement, the minute narrowing of the eyes, the dilation of the pupils. The image she had of herself as the queen of this castle was so absolute that she could not afford to have it swayed or tipped.

Vera reposes there for a while, before getting up and heading to the galley for a glass. She puts a few pieces of ice into the glass and walks back, as she passes the Japanese girl she hands her a soft drink from the cooler.
She stumbles for a second and leans against Dartha's chair, swinging it out alignment.

Vera went back to reposing while Dartha's chair was angled to face the wall. She cracked the seal and poured herself a finger, leaning against the wall as she savoured the whisky and gave the Japanese girl a mock salute before pressing cold crystal glass against her forehead.

[Karoline]

I continue to look at my commlink as the lady and girl speak, but my ears prick as I pick up their conversation curious to learn more about both of them. After Vera gets her glass of ice, she walks out of the back and gives me a drink on the way to her seat. I accept it, trying to not look too confused at the kind gesture Poison?

Without really thinking about it particularly, I open the drink she handed me and take a gulp of the liquid. The taste seems almost too sweet, but I smile at Vera when she gives me that salute anyway, it was a nice gesture. Did she bump the chair on purpose? I guess she is drunk, so maybe not.

[Mister Juan]

Of course, when I finally do get there, I'm fucking late. Ain't nothing makes a worst impression than a soldier being late on roll call. But then again, I've got to fall back on the fact I've been in this stinking urban jungle for shy of two weeks. Like I'm gonna get wheels in 2 weeks time when I need to shell out almost everything I have in child support. That and that god damn rat nest I'm living out of. I hate rats. I still have bad dreams and wake up with the shake every night. And its always those fucking rats, with their little beedy eyes, sharp teeth and scrawny furry skin like tails. Gnawing at me. I sleep with a 12 gauge loaded with salt, next to my bed, in case one of those bastards creeps hiw way in my room. I bet rats chuckle.

I walk from the curb side where the cab left me, all the way to the hangar. Not a bad warm up for a long day of sitting doing absolutely fuckall. I've never been the big airborn kind. I ain't got an itch against it; it's just not my prefered way of locomotion. I'm more of a water guy. Boating, fishing, swimming, sun bathing. You can't do shit in the air beside drop to the earth like a fucking rock on a hurry. The moment any sort of aircraft gets airborn, the only thing it wants to do is come down crashing to kill you. When you think about it, flying ain't natural, at least for us human folks. You put a guy in water, he'll float, to some extend. You put a child in water, his first instinct will be to try to swim. You throw a guy off a building, all he'll do is fucking scream all the way down; not fly. As my Adidas made GSG9 boots echo in the hangar, I start to wish I had brought a parachute. Hope for the best, plan for the worst. Too bad I ain't got one.

The place's mostly empty, if you ain't counting the sleek jet. At least, thats what people whould say about it. I personally think it looks like a big manhood compensator. Like a corvet, but with wings. Give me a C-130 over one of those flying dicks any day. I shift my smart pack on my shoulders. I ain't half as heavy as I was expecting it to be... but I figured with the crew we had, I had better be able to move fast. After all, this gig is supposed to be semi urban, and not a jungle LLRP. Not that I would mind. Pretty sure the mosquitos would eat that jap kid up.

As the lighting conditions shift around me, my eyes kick into gear to compensate. Sure, colors aren't as vivid, but I get to see better, farther and sharper than any living thing on this planet. Thank you CASMC!

Getting closer to the plan, Hodder and some other dwarf, maybe a buddy of his, sees me. He smiles and gives me a nod of recognition, which I return. The nod, not the smile. I mean, I don't really even know the guy yet. But that ain't a reason to be impolite. He seems like a sturdy little fella. I guess that'll be decided when the shit hits the fan. If it ever does.

I go way round the plane, where they seem to be loading the luggage, and stuff. It feels half way odd not to bring my gear with me inside the aircraft. I mean, I've always brought my stuff with me. Reluctantly, I put the duffle with my clothes, my backpack, and the large high impact casing for my rifle in the cargo bay. Fuck me, I feel naked. All I've got on me are the thick layer from my ballistic jacket, a shoulder rig with my revolver, a knife in my boot, and a single flashbang in my jacket's pocket. Sure, to most people, that a shitload of firepower to bring unboard a plan. A few years back, I might have agreed. But I'd rather have too much firepower, than not enough. The revolver's loaded with frangible rounds, so if I do have to fire at anything, I won't depressurize the plan. Force of habit, I've also got a single tracker round in the cylinder. You never know when it might come in handy. Had an NCO, back in Amazonia, who shot one of our guys in the leg when he got captured. Got him good with a tracker round. A day later, we pulled him out of some straw made latrine. Sure, he lost his leg. Last time I saw him, he enjoyed his new one so much, he never complained. Good guy. The flash's good for a ton of thing. Never leave the house without one. Knife's as a much a tool as a last resort. In the close proximity of a plane, a knife also tend to be much quicker than a gun. I ain't real nervous about them runners. If one of them wanted to fuck us over, he probably wouldn't do it now. But I don't know the air crew. Or anyone else we'll meet on the way to the Op site. So yea; I'm on my toes ever since I woke up this morning. I didn't get this old by cutting the corners of my cautiousness.

As I round by toward the stairs, Hodder seems to finish whatever he was doing. Getting next to him, I give him a slight slap on the back, with my meat hand, of course. Lots of people are bothered when I touch them with the chrome. Not sure why. I ain't flesh and bones, but its my hand alright.

"Morning Mac. I sure as fucking hope they ain't showing some chick flick... cause this is going to turn into a long flight."

I laugh a bit. I think I'm a pretty funny guy. My daughters both think I'm horrible. Kids.

When I finally set foot on the plane, my jaw feels like dropping to my heels. You have to be fucking shitting me. Another kid? At first, I thought it was me getting old; that everyone started to look like kids. After throwing a somewhat "you have to be kidding" look at Hodder, I rub the back of my neck and just hurry the fuck up to sit down. Another kid. Where the hell did Miss J get those people? Kids. Sure thing, talent doesn't know any age. But come on! How much field experience can teenagers have? By the looks of the new kid, I was sending azzies back to their mamas when her grand parents were dating.

I sigh and rub my forehead.
Seriously; if this is how the game is statrting to be played, its a sure sign I have to get the hell out.
Even thinking about it sounds cliche, but I have to: I'm getting way too old for this shit.

I take my jacket off, folding it in half so I can sit on it. Old habits die hard. The big Cavalier Deputy revolver dangles from its shoulder rig. I grab a pack of used playing cards from my pocket.

[Chrysalis]

Vera looks on as Pope looks at the kids with an obvious set of disdain.

"Excuse me, Mr Hodder? Mr Pope? Can you deal me into the game? I can bring a bit of a sparkle to the game and a bit of liquid scottish pride."

She grins and leans over, nearly spilling from her dress and holding the bottle suggestively.

"What are we playing?"

[Kerenshara]

Dartha straightens the chair back to its original position without a word, carefully watching the other woman from her peripheral vision. "OK, I don't buy for a second that she's as drunk as she pretends, and if she is that drunk, then she still managed to put together a somewhat convincing stumble that just happened to jostle me. Fine. If she wants to play, I'm game. I suppose it's possible she's both a Fool and a Challenge, but if time comes to eliminate her, I'm going to take my time and enjoy it."

About then, two men board the aircraft and she turns her attention to them. The one, older and with an air of military bearing and professionalism, lays eyes on her and seems to recoil. "That's not a response I'm used to" she thinks to herself as he pauses noticeably, staring at her face. "I wonder what's going on there?" The second man, a dwarf of apparently less advanced age, seemes to pay her considerably less regard. The dancing sparks in his eyes get her attention, though. "Ok, now that's interesting. As much as I'd like to get working on the muscle already-" she giggles mentally at the double entendre "-getting to know the dwarf should probably be a bit higher on my priority list." She swivels her chair to follow the movements of the two men. The older military man -Maxwell?- drops his coat in his seat and sits on it while pulling out a pack of playing cards, apparently determined to get his mind off whatever is bothering him. Her eyes note the hand cannon in its holster under his arm.

The drunk woman leans in and shows off her wares to the two men and Dartha thanks her powers once again as she suppresses a dramatic eye-roll. "Sparkle" indeed. "What are we playing?" she thinks sarcastically "Why don't we just open up the aisle so you can play spin the bottle after you've poured your 'Scottish Pride' down your throat?"

"Maxwell, was it?" she asks instead with warmth and concern "You seem frustrated. We haven't even gotten our wheels up yet, so I sincerely hope things aren't already going downhill for us. Is something wrong?"