11.7.70 1900 Dock 3

Once on the boat, Avenger gets himself situated and puts his bag away. He'll sit back relaxing for a bit, and seeing if anyone wants to do the planning. When people do go to sleep, the human utilizes the special sleep regulator he has in himself and stays up going online to do lots and lots of research. He and his Agent will be studying construction layouts of the terrain, recent battles, leading generals, history of the mark. Then he'll take his 3 hour power nap. When he wakes up he will get to work on memorizing maps and terrain. Getting it memorized and planning some escape routes that would be easy to lose all people not on foot.

Al

Raven scratches his stubble, "Aye, but if yer on tha deck, ye might key yer eyes peeled for strangeness. Ever since the Tir and the CFS started fightin' theres been an awful lot of strange traffic on tha water down that way, you'd do well ta keep an eye out fer any such strangeness."

And beyond that, the captain looks like he has little more to say.

"Much obliged, skipper, I"ll try'n sleep light."
With that, Al goes and finds a spot he knows will be low traffic for the crew, probably immediately to the stern of the deck house, and stows his pack. Then he returns to the hold, all trace of his previous discomfort gone, and begins to look through the crate of supplies.
Lotsa armor in here. Shore wouldn't mind havin' somethin' more'n my camo suit between me an' any incomin' nastiness. Let's see here - this here camo suit would fit the bill jist fine - not too heavy, but a lot sturdier'n my own. Ain't insulated, though - like ta freeze ta death. Too bulky ta wear over my own suit. Hmmm. Maybe the armored suit with these here fine insulated longjohns....

With those thoughts, Al hauls out the camo suit and the smallest set of underwear and, without a shred of self-consciousness, begins to strip. Off comes the oversized brown leather jacket and the similarly baggy, sweat-stained T-shirt, revealing a horribly scarred upper body. The burn scars on both hands extend well up his forearms, and there are numerous bullet scars as well as a long, jagged cut across his stomach. But most conspicuous is his back. His chest is covered in copious hair, and while it appears that his back would be similarly furry, the hair now grows only in erratic patches, a few places here and there not crosshatched with lash marks. It is as though all the flesh on his back was torn completely away by a whip or a cane. But the way some scars overlay others suggest, rather, that he was lashed periodically over a long period of time. Once he finishes stripping, it is apparent that his buttocks and the backs of his thighs are likewise completely covered in cane marks.

Around his neck is a leather thong, strung with numerous small - somethings - they are of indeterminate shape, and a variety of colors. A similar trinket is attached to a leather thong tied tightly around his upper left arm, very near the shoulder.

Besides the scars, there are numerous tattoos.

For any who care to look at his upper body -


For those who look at the tats on his lower body -


Al pulls on the underwear, and then, with a great effort, hauls on the armored camo suit. Once it is all on, he takes a few ginger steps, but the first gentle swell that hits the boat throws him to the floor. Nuts ta this. Looks like a choice between this here kevlar an' the insulation I brought with me. Well, probably git shot at, but definitely be cold, so there ya are. He changes back into his own clothes and replaces the other stuff in the crate.

"Well, gennulmen, I'm gon' be bunkin' topside - headin' up there now fer some air. Ya need me fer anythin', jist give a holler." Turning to Gore, "Found me a mess a stuff out about some cave at the co-ordi-naytes we got fer the missy. Seb knows most of it, but I done found out a mite more 'at I ain't had time to pass along yet - yew know, mystical crap - so lemme know if'n yer int'rested in knowin' more 'bout that. An' ever'one might be innerested in a swell map Seb made up, too."

With that, Al grabs a six-pack of Grolsch from the case and, remembering Raven's warning, loads his shotgun with EX rounds to take it topside with him as well. But just as he is heading out the hatch...

Sebastian takes a moment to load his clips with bullits.


Then he puts on his own insulated underarmour and steps up onto the deck with Al, pulling on a lifejacket aand slamming the clip into his Ingram X smartgun. He leans ageinst the rainling, watching the coast roll by.

11.7.70 1900 Dock 3


Gore arrives at dock 3 as requested, he finds his collegues and begins preperations for departure.

"Well gentlemen our mark will have a nice surprise if she decides to engage us in combat"

GoreSmiles Widely

Al it would be nice to have that information before you go topside.... did you get my shield?


Gore at the moment looks like a walking hardcase, he is now wearing black trousers and a black T shirt underneath his coat, strapped to his back is a troll sized standard riot shield, if you examine the shield closer there is somthing written on it "If your reading this, you should REALLY be on the other side"

there is a sword in a scabbard at this hip and he holds his trusty staff. "Well gentle men im tired.... im going to catch 40 winks, scream if you need me."

Gore settles down with the information al gives him and reads it ... after reading it he falls into a deep sleep.

"Shore, big guy, jist lemme send it over to ya," Al replies, fiddling with his commlink. "May be nothin' at all - no idear if'n it relates ta the artifaks or anythin' else, but like I told Sebastian, the cave near 'er last known 20 has been in use by one crazy cult or 'nother stretchin' back ta tha 19th century, an' alla that nonsense only stops - far as I been able ta tell, anyways - when ol' Hestaby took control o' the area 'round 2053. Who knows what sorta crap been goin' on since - but seein' as how its basically her back yard we's lookin' at operatin' in, I recommend we, uh, make sure ta do ever'thin' as eco-friendly as possible while we's there.
"Anyways....there....I sent ya the same links I been lookin' at - the place is called Pythian Cave, an' I been readin' up on tha significance o' the name."



With that, Al heads topside, plops down, and cracks a beer. As the cold wind blows off of Puget Sound through the rips in his jeans, he thinks, Guthrie, you's a plain fool. Nine months back in civilization done made you soft and lazy. Pa din't raise ya ta quit on nothin' so easy as that.
Sebastian comes up and goes to the railing. "Glad fer the comp'ny, kid." He throws him a beer. "Be right back." He goes back down to hold, changes into the thermal undersuit, puts his usual clothes back on over it, and then takes the camo suit and his tool kit up top with him.

Patch takes a look in the box. "Ah here we go." He pulls out the medkit and moves off to the side. He unpacks the entire thing taking stock of what is in there and repacks it the way he likes his medkits to be packed. After that he puts it in his bag with the other.

Walking back over to the box he says, "Al or Sebastion, could I get a copy of that map Al was going on about? And looky here.... This will fit just nicely." Patch pulls out the duster and tries it on. He also pulls out a pair of the under armor that looks like will fit and puts it in one of his bags to put on later.

After he receives the map, he goes to a corner to study it in detail for a few hours before going to sleep.

As everyone begins to change, so does Avenger He'll throw on the Armored Long Johns on underneath all his current armor. He does not hide any of the gear he's wearing. He also sends a mental command to his flyspy to see if it can climb out of the skin pocket and through the underarmor. If it can't he'll merely move the drone into a pocket of his.

Then he'll turn to the group sitting in the hold and ask, "So, anyone come up with a plan yet?"

While down in the hold changing for the second time, Al gives Ginger the link he is using to access the map off of Sebastian's sim module/PAN. "It's a 3D mock-up of the cave an' surroundin' area. I've only accessed it in full-VR so far - don't rightly know how it'll come through in AR. Here, fer a bigger picture, lemme also send ya the links to the navigatshun sites I been spendin' time on." Al sends the links to sites that show a complex route of back roads and old logging tracks that lead to within less than a mile of the coordinates, using the route he described to Sebastian earlier.

Once back up top with Seb, he turns his attention to the camo suit. It turns out to be a much easier job than he had thought, as some of the heavier shock plates are designed to be removable. Damn - this combo'll be much better'n the struff I bought, an' the long johns'll be usable even before I go full-commando with this camo gear....Well, looks like over a thousand new-yen down the tube on the stuff I bought, but it never hurts ta have spare, nosiree.

"Well kid, since yer up here an' all, best let'cha know 'at the skipper thinks we may run into some strange an' dang'rous goins on as we head further south. Reckon I'm gon' bed down now, afore we's even out the Sound, git a good night's sleep so I kin stay alert tomorrow night." Al rolls out his sleeping gear and lies down, his right hand resting on the grip of his shotgun where it lies on the deck. After several periodic and violent coughing fits, he is snoring loudly.

"I shan't need to sleep for a long while yet" Sebastian says as he starts pacing the boat, keeping his eyes pealed for anything peculiar.

A slightly metallic voice comes over the intercom of the ship, "Boys we be settin' sail now, so sit tight and enjoy the ride."

A deep thrumming sound springs to life from the stern side of the cargo bay. The powerful diesel engine throttles up with a rich and subtle roar. And like that the first step in thier journey was taken.

I'll have to talk to this captain tomorrow. From the look of this ship, I bet he has done some smuggling. Couldn't hurt to see If he knows a good way in and out of the war zone. But that can wait until tomorrow.

Patch comes out of his silent study and musings when he hears Avenger's question. "Nothing more than my original thoughts. I'm studying the maps now, but tomorrow I think we should maybe have a discussion with the captain. Somehting about this boat makes me think he's done some smuggling. Might turn to be a further asset to our insertion."

Somewhere off Salish-Sidhe coast 0314 11/8/70

Al has been snoring steadily for almost eight hours - long enough that, like a refrigerator's hum (or better yet the background cacophony of the virtual world), Sebastian has long since stopped registering it as he gazes over the starlit Pacific waters.
He is startled from his reverie by violent but by now familiar coughing - a horrid wet hack punctuated by dry rasping struggles for breath. He looks over to see Al bundled in his ubiquitous brown leather jacket, holding a Lucky Strike in shivering fingers, desperately pulling on it whenever he manages to catch a breath. After about ten minutes of this, the coughing ceases and Al looks up with a feral grin and greets his young friend as if nothing at all was amiss. "Top o' tha mornin', kid," he barks, thinking, Don't this kid never sleep?
He takes a beer from his unfinished six-pack and goes to the rail, where he manages to somehow drink, smoke, urinate, and scratch his ass simultaneously - in fact, he makes it look like the most natural thing in the world. Then, tossing the empty into the ocean, he growls, "Well, pal, what say we make our own, unaccompanied, in-speck-shun o' this here crate?" and sets off to find what or who he can find.

Ten minutes later, Al feels like he has a pretty good lay of the land. He goes back and polices his bedroll, again stowing his gear behind the deckhouse. He picks up his shotgun, still where he left it lying on the deck, and goes up to the prow to smoke a pack or two of cigarettes as he waits for everyone else to wake up.

Cleft Segment (submarine volcano)44 50'50.32" N 133 27' 50.86" W 0421 11.8.70

Al sits feeling slightly sleepy, on the deck watching the horizon's gentle lobing motion, when out of the corner of his eye, he sees a vessel, perhaps 500 meters off the stern moving rapidly towards the fishing boat. Raven and Vivi come on deck quickly.

"Put that holepunch below deck, we're in International water but these folks have taken it upon themselves to police the waters anyway, there should be nothing to worry about unless they want to go below deck."

Al can't decide which is most worthy of his attention - the approach of the other vessel, or the sudden and altogether unexpected appearance of the lovely Ms. McLoy, singer from the Lonely Hearts. Don' look like no sailor I ever saw. Wimmern onna ship - what's next? An' din't even play my Skynyrd request. But he wastes no time pondering the situation, moving quickly toward the hatch. As he goes, he fishes in his pocket for his new ear bud and puts it in place, simultaneously calling out his commcode to Raven. "I'll open our team PAN up to ya so's ya kin let us know what's goin' on up here." With that, he retrieves his pack and descends below, heading straight for the hold where the others are. Heaving open the sturdy door, he sees the sleeping forms of Gore, Avenger, and Patch.
"Look lively lads! Some sorta cops inbound. Skipper wants us ta stay outta sight, 'specially with weapons. I done opened our PAN up to 'im so's we'll know what's up." Al takes a step into the hold, but as he does so the lack of other exits rings home. Hell an' fer sure there's no good ta be had in alla us bein' cooped up in one room like fish inna barrel. "I'll be inna head," he announces, tossing his pack into the room. Keeping his Remington, he crosses under the hatch that leads up top, and moves on down the corridor to the toilet, where he stubs out his cigarette and locks himself inside.

Sebastian had been up all night, of course, and in the wee hours of the morning he had slips his Katana from its seath and started going through motions and katas with but one hand. ambidextrous, he passed the blade back and forth, perfecting his grace with the sword being used with one one hand.

In the Morning he enjoys his tour with Al, and grabs a life jacket that could accomidate his dense bones and fastens it own before continueing.

Sebastian slides bellow deck when the alert goes up, but not before taking several snapshots of the vessel with his cybereyes, at various magnifications and spectrums. He makes sure his Styer is up his sleve, clipp of normal rounds loaded, his Igram is around his neck, more regular rounds, and his katana can be freely drawn despite the extra layer of teh lifejacket.

Patch wakes up and rubs the sleep from his eyes. "Cops ya say. In international waters." Odd.

Patch shakes his head to help him become more alert. He then goes about putting on the newly acquired under armor under his regular clothes and finishes off by putting on the newly acquired duster. He then pulls out the AK-97 and roots around his bag for the 3 clips of regular ammo, loading one and putting the other two in chest pockets. He finishes up by concealing the loaded gun under the duster.

By this time Al has already left. Patch looks around at the others. "Just a precaution. It might be better to try and let the captain talk a way out of this. If that fails then we can talk our way out of this. If that fails..... Sebastian did you get a good look at the vessel these 'Cops' were on, and how many of them there are?"

The Storm Crow 0430 11.8.70

The vigilanty vessel pulls up on the port side of The Storm Crow, and three men are standing, with assault rifles agains the starboard side railing of thier vessel. Raven walks up to them and flashes some papers.

"You smuggling this morning captain," one of the men asks.

"Nar, why would ye think it," Raven says making a pretty good show of being offended.

"Well, your boat is registered to Seattle and your out here in international waters, not dragging your net. Would you mind if we boarded and took a look in your cargo hold."

Vivi spoke up, "We have a full cargo hold of shrimp and very little ice, if you boys can stand the smell," she trails off.

The men on the boat exchange glances, and decide they'd had a bad enough morning.

"No, that won't be nessisary, we'll take your word for it, were are you going into port?"

"Ah, we be sailing to the CFS, I hear they've got very good prices on the little flippies," Raven said.

"Alright, carry on," and with that, the boat pulls away, heading off in the direction they came.

Sitting there on the toilet with his shotgun, Al picks up a muffled version of events topside on his earpiece. Lousy cops - no matter where ya go, dumb as bricks. Anyway, reckon we'd all best lay good an' low till Raven signals they's well outta sight. Well, long as I'm sittin' here in this here privy...

"They be gone, but I suggest ye stay were ya are for a few minutes anyhow, just so's they clear the horizon," a quiet metallic voice says. After a few minutes Raven comes down into the cargo hold.

"Vivi just got off the horn with Jack he explained to her your cause and asked that we be helpful in anyway we can," he says sounding slightly embarrassed.

"Now don't go takin' it that Jack an' I ain't still feudin' cause that'd not be the case but considerin' what's at stake, yer gonna need all the help ye can get. Guess'n the first place to start would be were you boys want me ta drop ye's off."

"Nah, the first place ta start," says Al from behind Raven, entering the hold, shotgun slung on its shoulder strap and both hands buckling his belt, "is that other line - the one 'bout considerin' what's at stake. We know the li'l missy's got some mysterious artifacks, but sounds ta ol' Al like maybe you knows more'n we been told...."

Patch open's his mouth to start a question, but Al speaks up first. Patch suddenly get's very interested in hearing Raven's response to Al's question. Good catch Al. My questions on insertion can wait 'til after this one.

The Storm Crow 0430 11.8.70

Besides playing the dressup game and the fun of picking out some gear, Avenger will sit back and close his eyes and jump into the VR... he'll spend as much time as possible, until about midnight when he takes his power nap. Luckily he only has to sleep for 3 hours, and is fully awake when he recieves Al's message.

Avenger is happy to sit back and relax in the cargo hold. Trusting in Raven and this ship to carry them safely. When the man pops down into the hold followed by Al with a shotgun, Avenger begins to chuckle at the situation letting Al take the lead for now.

Raven seems caught a bit off gaurd, and balks at the question.

"Well, er, it's just that the sensitive nature of the relationships between nations. With Catalyst Ink. being a primarily CAS company, though that's not ta say they don't have thier hands in pretty much everything, dealing with Seattle, it could spell a nightmare for foriegn relations. You throw in two of the lost keys and ye got yerselves one hell of a delicate situation."

This time Gore speaks up, "That is the third time I've heard the sword and book refered to as keys, since yesterday."

The captain gives the troll a, you can't be serious look, "Well son, that's because they are. There are three keys protecting some kind of ancient power, they clues to thier were abouts have been hidden through out everything for eons."

Al takes his time lighting a fresh Lucky as Raven's words wash over the group. The seconds stretch by as he stands in the middle of the room, apparently contemplating the lit end of the cigarette. Finally, he says in a rasp just loud enough to be heard over the thrum of the Storm Crow's engines, "Yessir, that is indeed jist a little more'n we were told."

He ruminates for another lengthy space, and then, as though Raven were not even in the room, he turns to Gore: "Ya know, I din't mention this last night when I was fillin' ya in about the Oracle of the Pythian cave, cuz I thought it wuz jist a bit melodramatic, but another thing the legends referred to 'er as wuz the Apocalyptic Oracle. Co-incidenc-ez jist pilin' up here like flies on a turd, an' I jist hope co-incidenc-ez is all they are."

Back to Raven: "I'm gettin' ta maybe share yer animosity fer ol' Jack - he jist might've let us know 'bout this itty bitty wrinkle. So I suppose what ya jist said is the whole sum o' yer knowledge, or ya got any other pearls for us? As in, jist whut IS this" - holds up fingers to make quote marks - "ancient power? An' whut exackly is the third key? An' who else is after it? I know Gore here's dug up a fair amount, but what say you help us out a bit here..."

A small grin is apparent in Avenger's face even though he tries to keep his composure and not say anything. I must have these keys!!!! ANCIENT POWER MUST BECOME MINE!!!!

Interesting...But if I end up saving the world from the apocolypse, I'm asking for a hell of a lot more money. Keep squeezing, Al, I think this one may have a little more juice.

"Well let me ask you this, if you knew what you were getting into, would you have taken tha job," Raven his former sea berring accent amost disappearing.

"Nevermind that, of course you would have, if the price was right, but to your questions I think perhaps I've said too much, but in the spirit of letting you know what your dealing with, I feel obligated to tell you," he says fumbling with a ring on his right index finger.

"Of course I hope none of this suprises you, since if it did you probably might not be the best choice for this operation. I and a few others, including your Mr. Johnson, are part of a secret sect, tasked to protect and preserve an artifact of great power. We have always existed, along with the keys to protect it. There are three as I've said, and we know where all of them are. A sword, which is in reality a powerful weapon focus, that enhances the proper users power in melee combat. A book, which is different for each who reads it, when you read it you will see, in the book, everything you've ever done, additionally, it has been said to tell the future of some, magically active folks that is. The third and most dangerous is a compass, which always points to the one it is gaurding. I think it was Thomas Wolfe who said...Of a stone, a leaf, an unfound door, obviously a hint to the true nature of the artifacts."

Al's initial reaction is to laugh in the one-eyed sea dog's face, but then he thinks - Well hell, everything else in the last couple days has been jist like onna trid, why not this? An' anyhow's, if'n the stakes really are this high, what better choice for the fates ta give the call to than ol' Al? Heh, this gon' be fun.

"Or I reckon you mean to say you did know where all of them are, right? Or else we wun'n't be in this here mess. So the first thing I wanna know is this - I don' expect ya ta tell me where the compass is, but kin ya at least assure me that it's safe an' sound an' in y'all's cult's possession still, an' somewheres safer'n either Crystal Inc's vaults or Lone Star's lock-up?

"An' then, since y'all lost the first two, you'll pardon my skepticism about y'all's ability ta hold onta the third - so we needs ta know what the li'l missy an' 'er bunch kin do if'n they get their li'l paws on this here ancient power - as in, WHAT IN THE NAME O' SAINT PETER AN' ALL THE APOSTLES IS IT????"
Al takes a drag on his cigarette to calm himself. "An' then if I may repeat my query of a few ticks ago - in ol' Al's admittedly limited experience with ancient secret societies, I have found that they gen'rally exist jist fer the sake o' thwartin' some other buncha self-important wack-jobs. So after ya tells us exackly what happens when she gits 'er hands onna compass thing - howzabout fillin' us in onna competishun?"

"Very good questions Al," now his 'captain Ahab' accent was gone completely, replaced by that of a man who could easily be any corp wage slave you would run accross.

"As to the compass, until a few years ago it was with the Leon family, in thier safe keeping," he says looking directly at Avenger, "and I must say, it was rather safe, that was until the untimely deaths of it's care takers."

"It's current location is unknown, but the other two with help you find it. The object that the three keys gaurd, along with me and my companions, is from my understanding, a ring. It belonged to an evil king who reigned over the world before the dawn of recorded history, until his defeat, by a group a fearless warriors. It was later discovered that all of his god like power came from the ring he wore so a concil, comprised of all the nations of the world met to decide what to do with the ring. After much deliberation they decided that it must be buried, because no man could destroy it, and it was entombed, along with the body of the king who wore it, in a hidden location. All of the crew that worked on the site were killed, except for one man, the man who started our cult, as you say. He also stole the keys which originally were going to be kept in the three most powerful nations of the world, and hid them across the globe, leaving only cryptic hints as to their locations."

"Now fast forward several thousand years, to the renessance period in Europe. certain key historical figures had found and caught wind of the existance of the ring, and created what the conspiracy theorists call the Illuminati, the children of the light, if you will, to find the keys and unlock the great power. Through out the years, they have been searching for them and we are here now on the cusp of them getting thier hands on all three. We think they have the compass, our intel from a friend of the Leon family's said that the deaths of Vito Leon, and Bellini Leon, had the feel of a highly skilled proffessional, and looked like previous Illunimati related murders. Our intel also indicated a strong connection with 'Jewel' and that she might be an agent of thiers. While my group is powerful the Illuminati are much more so, and we try to throw a monkey wrench into everything they do, but we only have so many wrenchs. Ark Grueli the CEO of Catalyst Inc., where the sword and book were kept, is one of us, but even his knowledge and high security couldn't keep the keys safe. Now it comes down to you, we have studied all of your histories intently and hand picked you for this assignment. If you succeed, there will be great reward, if you fail, then that could very well be the end of life as we know it."

After much fighting in himself.... he manages to contain his emotions. Avenger walks to the door that leads to the capts' quarters. "I must speak with you privately after this, no offense to anyone here."

"None taken," Al says. He hadn't missed the penetrating look Raven had given Avenger when he mentioned the Leon family, and now Avenger wanted a private conference. Since he was the most "professional" acting of the group, Al assumed he must have a good personal reason - maybe some knowledge about the family that got killed.

So the bad guys already got all three keys. Well it's a sure bet they won't sit on them for long. We got to pick up the pace. But maybe there's something I can do in the meantime, he thinks as he watches Avenger leave the room.

Turning to Gore, Patch, and Sebastian, he says - "Looks like there ain't no end ta the stuff we gotta talk about, but fer now I gotta head topside and see if this boat's got any actual nets or tackle or anything. Need to catch me some fish."

Definitely going to have to ask for more money when we get ahold of these keys.

"Ok Captain. All this end of the world stuff aside, our first need is to get to these coordinates. To be blunt, this ship looks as if you are very accomplished at smuggling. Can you offer any advice on making it through the war zone to the spot we need to get so we can 'Save the World' so to speak. We have a few ideas, but.... The more input, advice, info.... the better."

All right Avie, got some questions for you when you get back. There were some odd looks there.

"Ah yes, I got so caught up telling you the truth I almost forgot about helping you plan. There are a series of old caves and mines, that run from the coast, to about fifteen miles west of where your going. I've already rerouted the ship there and Vivi is drawing you a map. Very few people know about the cave network, so you shouldn't encounter much resistance until you emerge.

Al pauses on his way out of the hold to go catch some fish.

"Well, skipper, sounds like ya know where ya wants us. But I don' mind pointin' out that 15 miles west o' the co-ordi-naytes means a good 75 miles east through these tunnels, as the crow flies, that is. Now if'n it's as ya say, an' these Illuminated folks've already got all three keys, my first inclination'd be ta git the fastest vee-hicle we can an' high-tail up there. 75 miles o' caves seems like mighty slow goin', unless maybe they's navigable by bike or somthin'.
"On t'other hand, ya seem to know more'n ol' Al 'bout whut's goin' on. Now, if'n by suggestin' we use the caves yer suggestin' 'at the roads're closely watched...well, that might be different story. Ya ain't told us yet how active we kin 'spect these Illuminated cats ta be, or, more important, how much they already may know 'bout our little expidition..."

Sebastian finally speaks up.
Now, I don't like to be given no run arround about things like this, but I think it might be a bit..." he pauses.... "Hi-po-crit-i-cal for me to do much complaining so I shan't. But I do got a bit of a crazy idea that might just work. About the caves. I mean. What we need is a craft capable of navigating the caves quickly. Now I don't know much about the conditions inside the caves, but if it doesn't have a bunch of water holes and cliffs to climb, it seems to me that a group of Yamaha Growlers, those who can't drive double up with someone who can, could make pretty good time through the caves and we would avoid all the surface trafic and wars and the like. And I think that your 'organiztion' should pay for it, for not giving up all these details before we boarded this boat. I can place an order over the Matrix and we can pop into a small port to pick them up before heading into the caves. Lets see, I think three bikes would work, assumeing at least three of us can drive them. I can try but I got no skill."

Al raises his eyebrows slightly at Sebastian's changing speech patterns, but only smiles.
"Well I kin handle a bike, no problem, an' o' course Patch here sez he can as well. Sounds like we got us a pretty good idear here, kid, long as the big guy there kin handle 'is own ride - he don' seem like the ride-double type." Out of the corner of his eye, Al sees Avenger waiting outside Raven's stateroom. "Anyway, kid, you shorely got things unner control with this plan, so why'n't you handle the dee-tails. I been jawin' long enuff - got me some fish ta catch. Ya got any REAL fishin' gear on this crate?"

Raven clears his throat.

"I've already made arangements. Al the gear on the boat is purely for show, you would have better luck jumping in with a knife, now if your hungry I'll rouse Papa Doc he's the best cook I've ever seen."

"Well I shore wun'n't mind some breakfist, but no - I reckon whut with the missy maybe kin see the future an' alla that, I'd best rustle us up some ethereal shieldin', to screen out 'er evil influences an' mask our approach. I kin work up some mighty pow'rful mojo along such lines, but the voodoo buddies don' work fer free, an' since I ain't exackly heard the cluckin' o' no live chickens, well, fish'll have ta do," Al replies, drawing his knife and heading topside.

"Breakfast sounds great. Lead on my good 'Captain'."

Avenger waits growing rather impatient. His hands are balled into fists, and his eyes give an icy stare that would bore a hole through diamond. "Hmmph. Of course I can drive, I don't mind carrying an extra person, but we may need someone to carry the bulk of the gear if we're doubling up."

"Ah yes, Avie, I almost forgot," he pulls out his commlink, and sends a message to Papa Doc.

"If you'll follow me please, the rest of you, Papa Doc will be waiting for you in the mess hall, topside."

Raven leads Avie into the captain's quarters.

"I imagine you have many questions for me, so get the most important ones out of the way first. I'm not being harsh, we just might not have much time."

Avenger looks the captain straight in the eye and asks one simple question. "A few questions do pop into mind. But let me get one thing straight. I don't care who you are, what you do, or who the illuminati are. I also don't care about your whole protection of ancient power. All I care about is Vengeance. So, do you know the person responsible for killing my mother and father?"

Raven smiles. There was something slightly off about that response, and Avie could see a glint of something in his eye.

"The specific person, no, the people who ordered it, yes. Life has a way of folding back on itself, and presenting oportunities to those that have the patiences for such things, wouldn't you agree Mr. Leon," he says walking from just inside the door to a small cabinet. He digs in the storage compartment and then lets out an exclaimation of contentment, turning around holding a decorated box.

"Would you care for a drink," he asks, "Of course you would, if I just found out that I was nearing the end of what I had made my life's quest, I'd need something to take the edge off."

"I have a question for you, Mr. Leon, once you've finished your duty, and avenged your parents, what will you do, try to reestablish your family in the Mafia circuit, perhaps become a vigilanty taking out the garbage of society? When a man dedicates himself so single mindedly to a cause what does he do, when that objective is gone? I appreciate your plight, and if it were me, I'd do the same thing, but it does make you wonder, doesn't it. I believe its called the Soldier's delima."

As Al and Patch walked up the stairs and into the mess hall, thier senses are tantilized by the fresh smells of bacon grease, grits, and sausage. When they open the door and walk into the kitchen, they see Papa Doc cooking, and Vivian sitting with a cup of coffee, at the table.

"Mawnin' Felluhs, I beh almast don' wit' cha' breakfast," He says flipping over an omlet.

After only a few minutes, the thin Jamacian man, sets a plate down in front of both Al and Patch.

"For tha good Doc'ta, a tree egg om'let wit 'omemade sausage an' some mighteh' fine cheese, for the man 'oh looks like he's ben' 'round tha world an' misses mom's cookin' two eggs sunny side up, some grits, and two strips o' real bacon."

"What about me," Vivi askes mockingly hurt.

"Oh yeah, I almast forgot," he says giving her a wink and walking back into the kitchen, "For da' woman 'oh plays the music of my 'ome land, a little bit of the food from my home, Bammy, Breadfruit, and Fried Plantains."

Al had been determined to dive straight into the Pacific and knife him some fish. He was coming to like his new companions, especially Sebastian, and considering all they had just learned, they needed some mystical protection NOW. But a glance outside made it clear it was still too dark to see anything under the water, which fact combined with the smells wafting out of the galley to convince him they needed mystical protection SOON. He sheathed his huge knife and went in.

And there were GRITS! "Sir, I am much obliged fer a meal o' this caliber. You shore pegged it when ya said I miss Ma's vittles - why I ain't savored grits fer nigh on twenny year now. An' here also is the lovely Miss McLoy," he says, raising a bacon-laden fork in salute before stuffing it into his mouth. He chews as he talks - a less than appealing sight: "So besides century-old rock ya also plays music from the islands. That's real nice, but if'n ya don' do Skynyrd, yer repertwaar jist ain't complete, ya ask ol' Al."

"Well I do know a little Skynard, I just don't have th voice for it. Besides, that's just a side gig I do when I'm bored, playing covers I mean, I'm working on an album, thing is, theres not to big of a market for natural acoustic rock," she says making a face at the Breadfruit.

"Well, Al ain't rightly got no ear fer music nohow, though if'n I may say so ya got yerself a voice ta charm a swamp pig, an' that accousticalish stuff were a sight better'n the crap they had on before ya. But I don' mind sayin' 'at I can't hardly carry much of a tune. That's why actin' is my thing. Simsense actin', ta be percise. Ya might could say it's muh callin'."