"Oh wiz! I've always loved planes! Haven't taken that many actually" he leans toward Ki "you fly alot?"

He turned toward Q. "So, man, what part of central america are you front? I haven't really been down there... tis are laid back as they say? Oh! Do you have to really wiz Inca ruins close by? Just seems like a cool place to hang out"

Not even waiting for an answer, Gabriel jumped back to Raven.

"Well, Lady Raven, you seem quite persistent. Very well, rough drafting like this can't be all that bad after all. Given some time, I can probably fake our way into almost any kind of staff possible: attendees at the convention, workers in the building itself, hotel staff is she stays in one. I am not sure about grabbing her while in transit. Yes, she might be under less surveillance and we'll have an immediate route of escape, but beside a plain ol' ambush, there aren't many ways of doing it smoothly."

The angel got up and started pacing the room, stopping from times to times to knock on the walls of the room, as if looking for something.

"We're going to need some sort of tranq for the Doc, and the kid, in case one of them goes awire during the grab. I mean... you never know when a person will have a cow. I'll try to get the whole low down on the Doc and her kids medical info; see if any of them have health problems that we'd have to work around... or any cyber that be good to know of. Once we have them, we'll need to sweep them for bugs, both outside and inside. I don't like having a cortical bomb explode in my face 24 hours after we have one of them. Maybe get a high power jammer, stick it on the package while we carry it, and scan it once in a safe area. Since Carmen knows the first joint, I'll work with her to get us some quality safehouses."

Taking a short pause, the icon continued his speech.

"What really bugs me is the 24 hours window we have. As soon as we lay our hands on the doc, the clock starts ticking. Depending on the kind of school and how old the kid is, you'll probably be suprised but... I could probably get in without too much trouble."

"Thats a good idea, the package might be easier to handle if she's unconcious. Are you our Decker then, Gabriel?"

"Actually, I fly all the time." Ki answered the chattering angel. "Sometimes via sub orbital, but usually by less mundane means." He smiled.

"Combat magic is my specialty. And I'm especially good at removing opposition casters and magical threats from the situation...usually permanently.

"If we're hitting some Azzie interests, that means at the bare minimum we may have to contend with blood mages and blood spirits. I'll brief you all more on what to expect, and how best to defend yourselves, once I have more time to go over the data packet.

"I'm also a passable gun or knife when needed.

"If some of you are already in the area of our first target, perhaps you could get us some current feet on the ground intel. Without ruffling any serpent feathers of course. See if we can get any more information on conference attendees, location, security, etcetera.

"And it seems to me that we are short changing our friend with the eyes." Konton bowed to the two over sized peepers. "Perhaps we should continue this meeting where most of us could meet face to face, and those outside of Seattle could continue to interface with us via this secure chat channel. We do have four more hours of secure comm lines running through here."

Konton tried to think of a good place in Seattle where runners could meet discreetly, and interface with a couple of matrix icons via trideo...

Q........T.....i...m....e........?

Carmen

An envelope appears in your hand. Opening the message, it reads, "There will be a forest green Americar ready to pick you up from Lanier's Club, tomorrow at 6pm. The driver will take you to meet with the rest of your team."

Marco

The same style message appears for you. "Go east out of town, down El Toro. When you get to the Devil's Pitchfork, go left down the dirt road. There will be a plane waiting for you. You have four hours."

Nearly simultaneously, four of the six icons are notified that they have a new tridmail message. Sent from a borrowed MSP account, the messages have been bounced through one of Shadowland's servers and stripped of their routing tags. Raven, Ki, Gabriel, and Miho all read:

"ahhhh Puyallup. I've gone almost an entire day without being knee deep in urban blight. I should have known my luck wasn't going to hold out."

Ki bowed deeply to all the others int the room.

"It appears we have been given our meeting place, and as for time, an hour to get there. I am a ways from Puyallup, and have to prepare some things before my trip. Which means I have to leave now. You all have my contact information, feel free to drop me a line if plans should change in the next hour.

"If not, I'll see you in an hour in Puyallup. It was very good to meet all of you. Oh, and I'll be the Japanese gentleman in the black suit with the aluminium cello case."

Ki waited to see if any of the others had any parting words, then hit the disconnect toggle on the matrix terminal and logged off. Konton's puppet icon receded into a hovering black curtain and then both it and curtain faded into nothingness.

Raven noded, "see you there."

The real world intruded and she pulled the ‘trodes off her head. She rubbed her eyes for a moment fighting the disorientation.

Damn matrix.

The headache that had begun as soon as she plugged in began to receded into the background. She spent a few more minutes massaging her temple. The trip to the Barrens would be 30 to 40 minutes, so she had 20 to pack.

The suitcase in her closet was packed full of her working gear, extra ammo, a spare suit of armored clothing, and her comm. gear. She stripped down to just her cotton underwear and unsealed a fresh pair of Form Fitting body armor. The vacuumed sealed armor was brand new and never worn. She used a new suit each time she went on a run. The micro fiber armor slipped over her tanned skin like a wetsuit. Perfectly conforming to every curve and line. It wasn’t very thick but it extended from her ankles to her wrist, to her throat. Moderate protection against low powered guns.

Over that went her black denim jeans, and her dark grey long sleeve shirt, followed lastly by her shin-high black leather combat boots. Each boot had an ammo pouch cleverly concealed on the outside which she filled with a mag each for her Five-seveN. The Fabrique National’s pistol was next. The sleek and oh so deadly hunk of metal fit like a glove on her hip, shrouded with black leather holster designed to conceal the weapons shape. She slid her spare, and all her extra ammo into the suitcase, enough rounds to get her through the operation she hoped.

She just had one last item to prepare, and she was still deciding to take it or not. In the back of her closet concealed by a fake panel was a case 135 centimeters long and 20 wide. Inside a wood paneled Walther MA2100-B [/b]variant sat, oiled and ready. She wasn’t often called onto be a sniper but with another gun already on the team…

Five minutes later she was out the door and blazing down I-5. Her small suitcase and hard plastic carrying case for her rifle was fit in the sparse bench seat in the back of the white [I]Saab.

She casually cut across for lanes of traffic to turn onto the SR520 interchange. She dropped the Saab into 5th gear and really gunned the engine. The speedometer pegged a 120 kph as she flew south toward Puyallup.

Out of town… again. Out of town always means stupid or crazy, maybe both. Can’t afford to pass this up though. Going to see this through to the end.

Almost immediately the Anime Eyes close and wink out of existance. No goodbyes from the Troll Shaman that has fingers too thick to type with. He should probably look into trodes for future meets.....

The Bison idled in the rain outside the hangar doors, its visible light headlights shut off. Overhead, weaving its way through the multitude of airspace claims, the Condor II drone fed a constant stream of sensor data to the Bison. In response to the short radio burst from the Bison’s transmitters, the hangar doors scroll open far enough to admit the heavy vehicle to the unlit interior. Grendel brings the Bison’s IR floods on, bathing the hangar bay and its occupants in an eerie red glow visible only to amplified eyes. The oversize doors close behind the Bison, cutting off the gust of wind and rain, leaving only the steady drumbeat of rain on the roof and the heavy cyclical growl of the van’s diesel to fill the hangar. After a moment, the visual display set up on an empty 210 liter fuel drum flickers to life.

“Ah, Grendel, welcome. Here are the vehicles that you requested. Also onboard the aircraft are flight plans and clearances. I’ve uploaded the location of your destination airfield outside of Corpus Christi as well. Is there anything else?”

As the Johnson speaks, the Bison pulls up next to the barrel before shifting into park. Grendel reaches over and unlocks the Ares Alpha from its driving mount, clipping the assault sling to his strike harness. Van glanced at him in some surprise.

Stay here. A second silent signal opened the door next to the command couch. Moving forward, the tall rigger was careful to keep the bulk of his vehicle between him and the optical pickup on the trid screen at all times. At least until he could place the strip of duct tape over it that he’d prepared.

“No, nothing further.” His voice was a harsh snarl, strange to his ears after so often communicating silently and invisibly over the radio. The Johnson chuckled.

“Always the paranoid one, eh? I never even activated the camera, but then I suppose you’d tell me it never hurts to be careful?”

Grendel remained silent, scanning the hangar for possible threats as he waited for the Johnson to continue.

“Ahem, well, here’s all the contact info for your teammates. I’ll leave it up to you on how to arrange a meeting. If there’s nothing more, you know how to contact me.” The connection was cut, the screen reverting to its pale gray standby color. Grendel disconnected the phone from the screen, turning it over to remove the battery. Van rolled her window down. The centimeter thick sheet of FRC armor featured an external overlay of tinted plexiglas, giving it a convincing look of reality.

Can I come out and play now?

Grendel turned towards the high winged cargo plane filling most of the hangar. It would be the focus of his attention for the next hour or so.

Get Everest and Mitchell. Two thousand nuyen each to watch the hangar until we leave in the plane. Load for max flex. Check in on 404.675 when you’re set up.

Van nodded, stepping down from the Bison to collect the offered credstick.

Watch your back out there.

Grendel watched her leave through the personnel hatch on the door before moving to the junction box on the wall. Halogen floods blazed to life at the throw of the switch, harsh, shadowless illumination washing highlights from the heavy duty cargo plane and the small patrol submersible strapped to its trailer. Satisfied with the security precautions taken so far, the bulky elf returns the assault rifle to its patrol mount next to the command couch inside the Bison. Shrugging out of his long coat, he drapes that across the seat as well. Using the communications suite of the heavy van, Grendel routes the necessary messages to his teammates here in the sprawl. A countdown timer appears in the upper right corner of his vision: sixty minutes. He would have to work quickly.

The Hawker-Ridley was buttoned up, save for the ground power access point. Bringing that breaker box live, Grendel jacked in to the external maintenance console. The aircraft’s systems readout sprang to life, overlying his vision in a fifty percent mask. He brought power on the aircraft and fired up the hydraulics, listening with a critical ear as the doubly redundant pumps pressurized the control system to its standard twenty eight hundred tonnes per square meter. The rear cargo ramp deployed, twin rams driving it down with a nails-on-chalkboard squeal. Selecting the weapons interface, Grendel deployed the turret mounted HMG. The 15mm cannon pivoted through three hundred sixty degrees of traverse as well as one hundred and five degrees of azimuth elevation. Ideally, there would have been room to test the weapon’s action as well as zero and sensor lock, but for now this would have to do. Stowing the weapon, he disconnected from the external access point, leaving the power running.

Moving around to the rear of the aircraft, he boarded the cargo hold, eyes picking out the increased bulk of the hull due to the armor plating. The hold itself was a full fifteen meters longer than usual due to the removal of three quarters of the bench seats. With the increased space, the remaining seats almost appeared comfortable. A sweep through the bay reveals that the work was professionally done, and the cargo deck plates and tie downs will be enough to support any load.

A short ladder leads up to the cockpit and navigation consoles. Grendel slides into the right hand bucket seat, automatically adjusting it fully to the rear to accommodate his larger frame. The seat is still almost too narrow for him, and the five point harness is tight even though the straps are adjusted to their longest settings. Jacking in to the plug mounted on the headrest, Grendel drops fully into the aircraft for the first time. As the rigger lies motionless, the great aircraft comes to life around him. Cabin lighting flickers on, displays coming online in the cockpit. Control surfaces flex, while flaps, slats, spoilers, and aerobrakes deploy. Position lights and anti-collision strobes illuminate, as do landing and navigation lights. Grendel runs a dummy load through the aircraft’s radar, testing for response and operation without irradiating the hangar. Again, given his choice, he would have run through a full operational test, but ground safety interlocks as well as airport regulations prohibited full power radar operations on deck. It could wait until they were in the air.

Surfacing from the interface, Grendel withdrew the multitool from its holster on his harness, unscrewing the fasteners holding the lower console panel in place. Raising it until its maintenance support locked in place, he scanned through the mess of wiring and black boxes. Schematics and wire diagrams flashed across his vision at a forty percent mask, images downloaded from the Hawker-Ridley maintenance manual. Opening up the serrated edge of the multitool, Grendel sliced through the connections hardwired to the emergency settings of the transponder control. Given enough time, he would have liked to install a variable altitude transmitter, but this would have to do for now.

Replacing the console panel, he checked his time. 00:34:17. Not long now. Connecting the aircraft’s jack through his RC deck, Grendel brought up his interface controls. Routing through the deck, he downloaded all of the stored UCASGS map information from the Bison into the Skytruck’s onboard computer, including the GPS waypoints of his proposed flight plan. That task complete, he shut down the aircraft’s computer and instrumentation, leaving only the interior lights and hydraulics activated.

The Delphin RQ7 was his next priority, the vaguely insectoid vehicle gleaming wetly beneath the harsh overheads. With a silent command, the Bison pulled forward before backing slowly down on the trailer. Grendel moved to where he could fine tune the drone’s approach, stopping the van with the hitch just offset from the trailer’s tongue. A nudge brought the two inline, and he spun the crank on the support wheel until it was fully retracted. The Bison’s rear end sagged beneath the load, and he paused for a moment to adjust the shocks on the vehicle for towing.

At the twenty four minute mark, just over half an hour after he began, he registered a double mic click on 404.675 MHz. Van and crew were on station.

Again, wireframe diagrams and maintenance schematics flow across his vision as he inspects the submarine for defects, damage, or modifications. At the present, he doesn’t bother with the vehicle’s onboard computer or navigation system. There would be time at their destination to ensure that was correctly set up.

Climbing the ramp to the cargo back again, Grendel watches with a critical eye as the drone pulls forward until the Bison and the trailer are lined up with the Skytruck’s ramp. Slowly, the heavy diesel growling against the increased load, the van backs. Once the trailer is on the ramp, Grendel drops into the vehicle, taking over the last of the minute corrections required to nestle the van into the cargo bay. Heavy duty nylon cargo straps secure both van and trailer to the tie downs on the deck of the bay. Lastly, Grendel connects a lead from the aircraft’s power supply to an external port on the Bison, allowing him to run all of the van’s systems without filling the cabin with diesel exhaust. The timer reads 00:11:42.

On a similar timer in an eye a few thousand feet away, nearly the same time displayed. Raven sat in her car outside the fence. She thought she had seen some movement in the shadows but couldn’t be sure. She brushed her hand against the FN. Her green tinted SG link appeared and immediately started to fade as not to obscure her vision. 20 in the mag and 1 in the pipe, the safety was off and it was loaded with Ex: explosive rounds. The action was set to semi auto and everything seemed to be in working order.

Good, might need it here.

The dark haired elf put the car in first and gently drove it over the potholes of the muddy road. Raven had chosen the back loop access road instead of coming directly from SR530, she wanted to make sure ther wasn’t anyone following.

The white cars shock absorbed most of the dips as she maneuvered it to the public parkin space. The black opaque windows would keep her from being the direct target of a spell, but the car could still get nuked so she kept it slow and steady. She parked it behind an abandoned service van that gave her a modicum of cover.

She made one last adjustment to her outfit and got out. If the bullet was going to come, it would be then. When no shot wrang through the air she quickly grabbed her suitcase (more of a undersized duffle with a thermal seal lock) and her hard case for the rifle. She unzipped the strap for the suitcase and slipped it over her chest. The rifle went in her left hand, leaving her right free to draw her pistol if needed. She punched the auto nav comp to head back to the apt parking in ten minutes. She figured she would know by then if anything was up.

There was only one hangar large enough to carry the team so she made her way to that. She stuck mostly to the shadows where she could, careful to keep her hands away from her gun.

"Well, Lady Raven..." he gave a quick look around the room "it does seem so."

Watching the others disconnect one by one, Christophe followed their exemple. Waving a goodbye, he simply exited the room and rapidly zoomed back to the local RTG. He sat for a few minutes in the endless space of the Matrix, watching bits of information zoom by him at impossible speed.

Ok... One hour... Thats pretty short.

He made a few gesture in the air, as if he was typing on an invisible keyboard. A large window appear in front of him. Somewhere in the distance, a phone was ringing.

Come on Todd. Be there... I ain't showing up in a cab...

When the large face of the dwarf filled the screen, Christophe immediately went to work on him.

"Hoi Todd! Whats up with you my ol chummer? How are the kids! Oh yea, still don't have any do you! Hahaha! Just kidding buddy. I need you to pick me up at my place and drop me in Puyallup, at Pierce County Airport. Just be here in 30 minutes... I'll tell you all about it on the drive. Next beer's on me yea ok all good see ya soon"

The connection was closed even before Todd could muster any kind of reply. Christophe liked the dwarf... like he was his own father. But the old smuggler liked to chat, a bit too much at times. And time... well, it was running short.
Jacking out, Christophe got to work immediatly. He had about 20 minutes before Todd showed up... not that he had many things to pack. What did bother him was that, he had no clue how long the operation would last. He grabbed his beaten up hitchicker backpack, his shoulder deck carrier, a large olive dufflebag and a bass guitar case. Slipping on his FFA, he threw on a pair of baggie beige pants, with too many pockets, and a bright orange long sleeve shirt... one of the less suble piece of attire he owned. The big flashing fake neon green holoprint on it didn't help. Switchblade in his back pocket, narcojet pistol in the small of his back, he sat on the ground and quickly started to pack. Narcojet rifle, with his old hunting Remington 750, in the bass guitar case, a few changes of clothes (some more subtle than others) in the bags, all his computer and electronic tools, boxes of chips, his cyberdeck.... yep, it was all packed and ready.

Sitting on the counter in the kitchen, drinking a beer, Christophe could do nothing but grin to himself while waiting for his ride.

Man... I am too cool for school.

Q will tip is hat (one thats not there) and then fade out of the matrix. He will then walk back to his motel and gather his belongings and hit up the front desk for check out.

Hey Mario, I be going now, could you call me a taxi while I pay up.

Raven made her way through the misting rain to the personel entrance of the hangar. A bright Red plaquered warned people from smoking due to highly flamable contents. She chuckled,

then I guess gunfire would be very bad.

Raven carefully opened the door. She gave her eyes a second to compansate for the darkness as she stepped in.

"Hello?"

She knew she was giving herself away, but she was pretty sure she had the right place. She didn't want someone whith more paranoia than herself killing her thinking she wasn't suposed to be there.

Having seen her coming via the overhead surveillance drone, and listened to the report from Van's team, Grendel was waiting by the cargo ramp of the Skytruck. He watched as she scanned the interior of the hangar bay, picking him out from the background after a moment.

"Go ahead."

His voice, gravelly, was pitched to carry no further than the slim operator standing in the doorway.

Konton started his chronometer counting down from an hour the second he pulled the trode rig off his head. The nuyen was big, the objective was good, and the time was short. Just the way he liked it. In two minutes he was on his bike, in six he was home.

He swapped out his corpware for the biker look, Black jump suit over form fitting body armor, and a pair of heavy boots. Konton still didn't have a chance to read the data packet, so he decided to pack EVERYTHING...just in case. All of the weapons went into the instrument case. He broke the nodachi down into tsuka tsuba and blade. Each piece fit snugly into premade cut outs in the temper foam lining. He loaded ad checked the action on a pair of huge custom pistols. He knew them each by name, and they served him as well as the sword. Erring on the side of caution, he added in enough spare clips to hold off a town full of zombies. Konton quickly counted out and sorted six dual charge grenades. Sometimes you needed just that little something extra.

A few days worth of clothing and a camo suit were packed into a black carbon fiber suit case. The holsters the combat harness were covered with some towels. He topped the case off with a pile of normal drek that non professional killers might pack on short trip. He included a few other odds and ends, wanting to have whatever he needed on hand at all times. Lastly, he slipped on a pair of chrome thermographic shades. Eighteen minutes gone.

Konton explained to his house agent that he would be returning to Nippon for a few days, and to treat all calls and visitors accordingly. His contacts and the circle could reach him anytime via his pocket secretary, any one else would get the run around. He made a mental note to call Shimo from the air, and see if she knew about any nasties that he might expect to encounter in Corpus Christi.

Before heading out, he downloaded directions to the airport and broadcast them to his Aurora. Twenty one minutes. Konton locked up, and secured his luggage to the back of his bike. Another demon to slay, another castle left behind. He hoped he would be back. A helmeted rider, armored all in black sped off in the direction of Puyallup. Once more into the breach.

"Hi," she said cooly. "I'm here for a ride. You must be the ride master. I'm Raven. You mind me loading up? Or should I wait outside?"

She scanned the interior of the room, he stood alone but she was sure she heard the wirr of mechanics.

Could be a drone, could be a cybered counter weight.

The people he had on security were damn good if she could tell they were there, but just not exactly where. Hopefully Grendel believed her, otherwise it was going to be a very short trip.

The bulky elf nodded.

"Grendel," was all he provided as an introduction. He motioned to the interior of the Skytruck, stepping back to allow Raven access.

With ten minutes to spare, Konton brought his bike to a stop just outside of the airport. It was a small installation, quite a departure form the sprawls of Sea-Tac and Narita. There weren't very many places to hide, but also not very many witnesses. Just to be on the safe side, Konton shifted his perception into the astral and gave the area a once over. Everything seemed on the up and up. His vision returned to normal, he slipped his mirror shades back on, and slid down the smart visor on his helmet. Slowly and cautiously, Konton rode up to the front doors of hanger 8B. It wouldn't do any good for some one to mistake his arrival for an attack run.

He brought the bike to a stop and stepped off of it. Konton set his helmet down on the seat, and folded his arms. Six minutes early. He slicked his now rain wet hair back, took a deep breath and walked in the front door.

"Konichiwa" he said a bit too loudly into the dark hanger. The thermo in his glasses picked out at least two figures. One was a woman, the other was big. Konton bowed toward each of them.

Again, the unblinking eyes of the drone have tracked the newcomer ever since he made line of sight. The image was remoted to the upper left corner of Grendel's vision, overlaid at a forty percent mask. He does not warn Raven. What he seeks is information. He waits to see how she'll react to the newcomer's call.

Miho was glad that stupid matrix meet was over, how people communicated in such a manner was outside the realm of understanding. Not to mention having to remain visible for such a long period of time, it was horrible.

Time and place identified, Miho turned the computer off, not caring about shutdown procedures at all. Moments later a shadow slipped out the window, and the university computer lab was as it was 15 minutes prior. Security should be along any second now, with nothing to see except an open window.

Miho slipped on her rollerblades, and began her progression to her destination. Ruthenium activated, she quickly attached herself to the bumpers of autos, thankful for the rainfall so common in the Seattle afternoons. She glanced at her timepiece, 12:22 pm, mid-day was not the best time to be travelling. 6 autos later she came upon the exit for the Airport, and started to skate on her own power. With effortless ease she seemed to bounce off several crates, while still skating, and land on the roof of a hangar. Dropping down low, she began to survey the area. It took a few seconds to locate Hangar 8B.....

Almost 1pm, Miho now sat on a highbeam within the Hangar. Her ruthenium and thermal dampeners, along with her extreme stealth skills enhanced by an internal magic that the norms lacked, made her a ghost to anyone that was looking for her, even if they looked right at her. Oddly enough, she was relieved when a woman arrived, the tension had been higher than Miho thought, looks like maybe this wasn't an ambush intended for Merv. Still how would people react when this tiny elf showed up instead of the huge merc orc they'd intended to hire? Didn't matter really, best not to stress on the small things.

With the silence of a falling leaf, Miho finally lept from her perch, landing on the huge flying machine without so much as a tap of noise. She laid there, perched like spider-man in those old comics she used to read. Another man had arrived, and was entering the hangar. With deft movements, Miho made her way down the body of the bird and under it, coming up directly beneath where Grendel was working on some doohickey. "Konichiwa", the strange man said, just before Miho said, "Boo!" from almost between Grendel's legs, her ruthenium shutting off simultaneously.

Grendel's draw is shatteringly fast, the Browning Max-Power almost materializing in his hand as he reacts to the unknown threat. The sear comes within a hairsbreadth of tripping before the situation overrides the combat reflexes that rule his mind. Oddly enough, it was the "boo" that saves Miho's life. The weapon holds steady for a full three seconds before the rigger steps back and disengages. The network shuts down from combat footing, returning to its passive alert state.

Fragging elves. None of the venom of that thought leeched into his question, though, his voice flat and emotionless.

"Name?"

The elf girlie grins, not even the tiniest hint of a flinch, or aggressive reaction of any kind. She just tilted her head a bit, smiled, and said "Miho", before looking around the rest of the hangar. She turns her back to the guy with the gun and walks up to the entrance of the transport, "Here?", she asks pointing upwards to the entrance, her single word question clearly asking if she should be on board or not.

When the 'boo' echoes through the hanger Raven disengages the smartlink and slides the Five-seveN back into its holster.

Idiot, shes lucky Grendel didn't kill her.

Raven turned to the Japanese new comer, "Hello yourself, I'm Raven" She gave him a nod, respecting the professionalism of his approach. you didn't sneak into someone else’s home. It was bad form.

She walked by Grendel and gave him a nod. The ramp into the plane echoed as her combat boots hit it. It was the same aircraft aluminum found in most planes, this one reinforced with armor a nice touch.

She moved past the Bison and gave an appreciative whistle, the vehicle was obviously well taken care of. A good sign for its pilot.

Treat your equipment like yourself.

She found a seat in the last row, right in front of the trailer attached to the Bison. The mini sub was odd. She had never even been underwater let alone in a sub. The idea made her stomach twinge. She laid out the bag and case under the seat. She found the orange cargo netting attached to the seat. The buckles were new to her so she got down on her knees and faced the seat while she figured out how to secure her items for the trip.

Mario called a cap and rung Q up. " Take care Buddy" he says and Q went out the door. Standing out side for about a min waiting for the cap to arrive, Q lights up a cig.
With the cap pulling up Q drops the rest of his cig and steps on it as he signals for the trunk to be popped. After securing his gear he hops in the back and tells the driver " Head east down El Toro to the Devils Pitchfork"

After about 2 hours and 55 min the driver yells back." We are coming up on the pitchfork now, which way?"
With a quick reply Q says, "To the right down about half a mile will be fine. I have someone meeting me out there."
The driver goes down about half a mile and there’s nothing there but a cacti. He stops and turns back to Q. " You sure this is the place? We in the middle of nowhere, you sure you want to be get out here? It's quite hot this time of day, I know of a great bar not 15 miles down the road."
Without replying Q opens the door and steps out. " Here is fine, how much I own ya? And could you pop the trunk."
Paying the man and gathering he gear he just sitting down on the side of the road. He nods goodbye to the drives as he turns around and drives off. He gives the cab 10 mins to get some distance then starts cutting across the desert to the other road.

"Guess I'll take my leave as well." Carmen said before vanishing in a puff of smoke. 24 hours to kill...seems she'd have time to visit Lanier after all. Having already gathered her gear for the run, she turned to getting ready for a night at the club.

Mario

A small, twin-engine plain is waiting for you just where you were told it would be. It seems fairly standard, except for the funky paint job. Your best guess would be some sort of radar reflecting material. The pilot is a old mexican who is currently napping with his baseball cap turned down.

"Yes."

Grendel watches the slim elf as she disappears inside the cabin of the aircraft, variables running through his mind. He was unsure if her cavalier attitude was a product of arrogance, youthful disregard for danger, or if she was just that good. His trigger finger itched, though, a somatic response to the last of the adrenaline filtering through his system. He glanced over at the tall man standing by the door, the stranger not having moved during the confrontation. That was good survival instinct, not to draw attention to yourself. With Raven and Miho identified, that meant the newcomer was either Konton or Leblanc. Lacking any further details with which to resolve the ambiguity, Grendel simply waited.

Raven finished stowing her gear. She tugged on the bright orange cargo netting to make sure her gear wouldn't fly about the cabin.

She spotted Miho squeezing between the bison and the hull of the aircraft, making her way up to the cabin.

"You know sneaking up on people who don't know you is a good way to end up dead. I hope you are more professional than that in the future."

Miho grins at the mother figure in the cabin, "It's ok Mom, had to see how fast pilot react if he to fly me somewhere. You relax before you get grey hairs. I be ok, truly. If I was in danger, I not have do it.", she says in her broken english but with the most charming smile as she slips her headphones on.

"Thats the most asinine thing I have ever heard. Stay out of my way, and try not to get us all killed."

Raven shook her head in disappointment. She had hoped the stunt was some kind of amateurish mistake. Not what it was, ignorance.

She slipped back past the Bison leaving the girl in the cabin by herself. She found the bulky elf out side working on the aircraft.

"Sorry about that, I hope you don't think were all flaming idiots cause of the girls actions. Just wanted to say sorry."

Konton didn't make a sound or move a muscle until the situation calmed itself. He found that when working with new teams, little problems like that always happened. Some one posturing against some one else, guns come out, instinct and reactions carry the day. It's always best during those few tense seconds to not make any sudden changes in behavior. A lot of the street samurai types were so juiced up in the reflexes department, that they would shoot anything that drew their attention. He would have felt partly to blame, if a well intentioned shout or duck for cover turned a friendly meet into a shoot out.

Konton exhaled the breath he didn't know he was holding. He smiled. Despite the shaky start, he was very pleased with what he saw thus far. The young elf bijin was very skillful at stealth, and apparently fearless. Miho, she said her name was. Konton was happy to have another Japanese on board. The other woman, Raven, seemed to have a very professional attitude. He laid even odds that the more influence she had on the team, the greater all their chances of staying alive would be. And the man in charge of the aircraft could only be the rigger Grendel. From his street rep, Konton knew Grendel was fully capable of frosting Miho-san during her stunt. But the experienced runner had chosen not too. He didn't even mention the breach of etiquette once the girl identified herself.

Yes sir, Konton had a very good feeling about this team. He thought it best to play it nice and friendly. There were enough egos in play without adding his own to the mixture. Besides, wherever Konton went, people just seemed to instinctively like him for some reason. He brought himself around the side of the plane where Raven and Grendel were talking. He bowed to them both, bending over almost double and looking closely around one of the landing gear under the jet.


"I don't see any any more ninja." He grinned. "I'm Konton, it's good to meet you both in the flesh. I was the bunraku puppet named Ki in the chat room."

"I've got some luggage Grendel-sama. Do i need to check them, or can I carry them on?"

"Oh and I'd like to have my bike along if possible. It's not much of a vehicle, and I'm not much of a rider. But I've found it's always better to have an alternate method of transport and not need it, then then to need an alternate mode of transport and not have it. But if it's a problem at all, I'll gladly park it in the hanger until we get back."

"Konton." Grendel used the name as a placeholder in the conversation while the rest of the numbers ran through his head.

"There's enough room on-board for any gear plus your bike. Keep in mind our priority is recovering the woman and her daughter. If we're pulling out of a hot LZ and there's no time to load the vehicles, they stay. There are extra cargo straps on the aft starboard bulkhead to secure the bike."

He glanced back to Raven, the flat black gaze of his cybereyes gleaming in the wash of overhead illumination. He wondered, momentarily, if he should say something regarding her comments. Instead, he asked:

"Are you familiar at all with our remaining absent teammate?"

Marco lugs his bags over to the plane and sets them down in front of the pilot. Trying not to startle him, he will take a good look over the pilot for any kind of weapons that could be a problem if startled. With the pilot still asleep, Q will have a look around at the plane, checking out its paint job in particular. He will touch it and when be gets to the back behind the pilot he will give the plane 2 knocks.

Clang CLANK

Watching the pilot to see if it woke him.

Oh-kay, not the social type. Understood.

"Unfortunately no, I've never met any of them until a few hours ago. Anything I can do to help you get the bird ready?"

"I'll get my gear loaded up then. I have no problem leaving the bike behind if things get hot. It wouldn't be the first time. And thanks for coming on board for this run. I've heard nothing but good things about you."

With that said, Konton strolled out to his bike, and began the process of loading it and his luggage onto the plane. He didn't realize just how big the transport was, until he was inside of it. There was also some seriously bad hoop van of some kind, and what looked to be a small submarine!

While he strapped in his gear and bike, he chattered up he length of the plane where Miho must have went.

"I'm Konton." He said in his natural Japanese. "I came from Chiba not long ago. Have you been to Nippon recently?"

Konton hoped the use of Japanese would make the girl feel more talkative.

"Wooooooooowwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww"

Christophe was standing in the middle of the large opened hangar doors, struck in awe by the plane.

"Now that is one sweet ride!"

Struggling with his many bags of equipment, he made a few steps toward the plane. Noticing three figures, all reaching for their weapons, the youngster quickly dropped everything he was holding.

"Wait a sec before you pop a few in me!" raising his hands "I didn't mean to startle you guys. The name's Leblanc, and I'll be your console jockey."

He waited for a friendly reply, and approached the trio. As he came closer, his features became discernable. The young man couldn't be any older than 20... at the most. Dressed in the late fashion of the young crowd, neon blue hair was sticking from under a beaten up Seahawk baseball cap. His bright orange shirt bore the insignia of some local metal trash band that was drek hot in the charts. A pair of yellow tinted sunglasses rested on his nose, and what seemed like industrial music was blaring from a pair of headsets resting around his neck. The teenager was smiling... and it seemed totaly genuine. There was just something about his presence that made the whole atmosphere calmer; he was composed and at ease in every of his movement. Dropping his luggage on the concrete floor, he extend his hand toward Grendel.

"Ok... let me take a wild guess. You're the wiz pilot." he beamed a smile at him "Let me tell you that I've heard a lot about you chummer; you are THE real deal. Pleasure to have you with us man. If there's anything I can help around with... I used to run smuggling with Todd Chile's crew"

He turned toward the japanese man and bowed... just a bit deeper than one would for meeting with an equal.

"And that would make you Mister Ki. Very nice to meet you, again. I understand you're a magical threat expert? Let me tell you that that is one nova hot field. I would just love it if you'd let me drill you for info... I mean... if you don't mind." Once again came the charming smile.

The decker then turned his attention toward the elven woman. When his eyes fell upon her, he seemed to froze for a second as if stunned.

Frag... elves are always gorgeous....

Taking his cap off, he waved it in the air and made a reverence; deeply bowing. The whole thing was very formal.

"And you must be Lady Raven. Fairer in the flesh than in binary, if I may. Tis an honor to work with you."

Straightening back up, he smiled sincerely at the elven woman for a few seconds... than seemed to snap back to reality. He quickly turned off his music player, mumbling some curse under his breath.

"So.... can I drop all my stuff inside?"

Grendel shook his head once, about to supply the status of the vehicles when an exclamation from the door interrupted him. He'd seen the young man arrive outside, but didn't want to interrupt. He spread his left hand, his off-hand, towards Raven in a hold what you've got, I'll be right back gesture. He nodded in response to Leblanc's outstretched hand instead of reciprocating, and flicked the open fingers of his left hand towards the open cargo hatch of the Skytruck.

"Go ahead and load up. When you're finished, I need to talk with you."

After a moment, he turned back towards Raven.

"We're ready to roll whenever everyone is settled. I'd like to get a rundown of individual operational capabilities, as well as establish a communications plan. It shouldn't take long, no more than ten minutes."

Christophe left his hand outstreched toward Grendel for a few seconds, simply staring at him, with a smile stuck on its face. He simply left it there, as if expecting that sooner or later, the rigger would shake it. Once the uneasiness of the moment was high enough, he retracted his open hand.

"Yea... ok... I guess I'm not badass enough for you."

A brief look of disappointment flashed over the decker's face.

Why can't people simply be civil for frag's sake. Guess he's one of those you ain't worth it until you prove it. Fine by me... I'll show him...

"Oh well. Concerning you inquiry about skills" Chris reaches down and picks his stuff back up "I do pretty well with everything that covers the Matrix and connected fields; that means computers, electronic devices... pretty much anything that beeps, ticks, flashes and blink. I tend to be good at working people, I've become more than comfortable handling pistols and long range stuff." he ponctuated the remark by tugging on the large bass guitar case strapped to his back.

"Anyways, Mister Grendel, if you'd like me to assist you in anything, don't be shy."

Giving him a wink, the decker stepped into the large plane, looking for a place to secure all his things.

Grendel cocked his head to the side in response to the decker's statements.

"Do you have satcomm capabilities? Any dataline taps?"

Christophe stopped dead in his track, suprised to get some sort of feedback from Grendel's part.

"Well, Mister Grendel, I pack the gear for any kind of connection; laser, sat, radiowave. Dont have any remote laser, micro or radio taps on hand thought.... but they aren't hard to get a hang of. Dataline tap wise; yea, I've got some."

Smiling at the rigger, Christophe tapped the side of his head with two fingers.

"Radio's in there by the way; transducer linked."

Konton finished loading up his own gear, and went back out to give the new comer a hand with his.

"Call me Konton." He smiled and bowed deeply. "Ki is a working name. I only use it before I get to know people."

"I'll be happy to discuss magical threats with you during our flight. Let me help you get you gear squared away first though."

Konton turned briefly to Grendel.

"I'll give you an over view of my capabilities, and break out my comm gear as soon as I finish giving Leblanc a hand." Konton smirked

He swept his hands out toward Leblanc's luggage, forming a levitation spell in his mind. He willed Leblanc's luggage up and followed it into the plane.

"Very well Mister Konton... or is it Konton-san? I'm kinda rusty on my japanese so you'll have to excuse me." The young decker gave him a half grin.

When his luggage started floating in the cargo plane, Christophe couldn't help himself but giggle for a few second.

"Chummer, if I could do that... I'd be even lazier"

Out came a sincere laugh.

The decker leaned in closer to Konton.

"Who's that?" whispered the decker, nodding in the direction of Miho.

Raven nodded to the stoic elf, "not a problem, let me help Leblanc with his gear and we'll get together, uh," she looked around counting in her head, "I think that’s everyone. Forward section of the aircraft ok?"

She grabbed on of the heavier bags from Leblanc and heaved it over her shoulder.

"It's a pleasure to meet you Leblanc, uhm, can you drop the lady part? It's making me uncomfortable. Raven will do fine. Thanks."

Raven followed the decker in to the plane. It was a tight squeeze getting his gear between the hull of the plane and the Bison with its load.

"Hey everyone, Grendel would like a few minutes with us to go over Comm channels and tac procedures I would assume. Can everyone gather in passenger section and please have your comm. gear handy."

As she spoke she took out her Pcomm unit and waved it for everyone to see. The slim black box fit easily in her palm and trailed a gossamer thin line that ran to her oversized belt.

After she delivered the message she returned outside to where the Rigger was still working. She didn't bother climbing down into the hanger, she just poked her head out from the rear cargo hatch and held onto the hydraulics for balance.

"Teams ready in 5."

"I can't even squeeze a "Miss Raven" in there?"

The decker chuckeled to himself.

"Alright, Raven it is."

"Just plain Konton is fine. I dont expect Japanaese honorifics from people that arent natural speakers."

"As for her, Let me introduce you." Konton offered.

"Miho, this is Leblanc, our computer and electronics expert. Leblanc, this is Miho. If our team has a ninja, she's it. She moves like a shadow."

He continued helping Leblanc strap down his luggage.

"Either of you two want a Genki Drink?"

Konton opened up his own case, and got out his comms package. While the case was open, he also pulled out a couple of brightly colored glass bottles, covered in kanji. He offered one of the drinks to Leblanc, then brought his transceiver and subvocal microphone out to Grendel.

Finishing the stowing away of his gear, which wasn't ALL that much after all, Christophe decided to keep a single piece with him; his precious deck. Lugging the shoulder bag over his back, he started fishing in one of his pockets.

"Thanks for the hand guys."

After a few seconds, he pulled out a small black chip, and slotted it behind his left ear. With lightning speed, the japanese linguasoft started to overlay itself on his own mind. Even if using such software was something frowned upon by many, Chris simply thought that, with two japs aboard... it might make things easier. Althought he could feel he jaw and tongue weren't use to speaking it, the asian language seemed to flow easily enough out of him.

"Well, hi there Miho! Let me guess.... The floating eyes, right? That was a pretty neat icon you got there. You go to Seattle's university? I noticed you logging spot Oh... Sorry for that... I tend to ask a lot of questions."

The decker beamed at her, then went back to Konton.

"As I've told you... my japanese" pointing to his chipjack "is a bit dusty... so it might take some getting used to it. To be honest, I've got no fragging clue what a Genki Drink is. But I've got my own brew."

Out of one of his many pant's pockets came out a small metallic flask. Opening it, he handed it to Konton.

"Genuine Gélinotte, straight from Québec." said the decker, switching back to english. Something, in the pronounciation of Gélinotte and Québec sounded... different. There was no trace of an accent.

Konton took a small swig from the flask. The liquid tasted strange, but there was no missing the familiar burn of alcohol going down his throat. It made him want for sake.

"Domo Arigato" His voice sounded a bit hoarse. "Good stuff. I try to avoid drinking on a run. But afterwards is another story." Konton returned the flask.

He uncapped and sampled some of his all natural high energy "revitalizer". It tasted obnoxious, but drink enough of them, and you could stay on the razors edge for days at a time.

Marco

As soon as you drop your bags, the pilot looks up, squinting in the sun.

"Oi. You Marco? Threw your crap in the back, we gotta get in the air, eh?"