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Bastard
04:00:14 Tuesday, 10 October 2062 – Master Bedroom, Kilko's Home, Antioch, CFS

A thundering rift of electric guitars and cannon pounding of drums peacefully woke Kliko from his slumber. The chorus kicks in with a throaty yelling/screaming only Orcasm can produce.

Gotcha by the throat
with my leather glove
Gonna feel the power
of my - Deadly Love!

Fear is in your eyes
what are ya 'fraid of
No escape from troll lust
and my - Deadly Love!


He takes a deep breath to get some more air, and help him wake up a little more. He picks up the call just before it goes to voice mail.


"Morning, Radek."
"Morning Kliko. You guys are on-"
"Right now!?"
"8 o'clock. Oakland Airport. Private plane area. There is no security to pass through, so you guys are clear, but you still don't want to have your weapons out in the open. Johnson has a van if you want him to pick you and/or your gear up so you don't have to leave your vehicles at the airport. Just text him the pickup address to (530)555-4322."
"Okay. I will contact the team. Anything else?"
"Don't worry about breakfast. Mr. Johnson said it will be waiting on the plane... Oh, dress comfortable, and bring a change of clothes."


Kliko sends out a mass-text to the team.

04:02 TEXT MESSAGE SENT [KLIKO>>>LUDI, BUBBA, FELIX, KNUCKLE DUSTER, STARLING, VRIXA] >>> "We are on. Meet in parking lot at 680 Garcia Ave in Pit at 0600."
Kliko
06:05:21 Monday, 9 October 2062 – 680 Garcia Avn Pittsbiurgh

'It's fraggin cold!' Kliko waited outside his general workshop annex hangout for the other team members to come in. Not expecting their pick up for another ten minutes or so. His gear all packed in guncases, an army style dufflebag for clothing, toileteries and and sportsbag with fully equipped combat vest and pouches ready for deployment with his regular B&E kit. Frag it, Kliko even packed his parachute, just in case. 'I just have to make one more stop' picking up a few extra pre-filled ammo boxes for Bubba's kit. It had been a last minute call, but he'd to admit they'd gone a bit wild last night. 'Poor slot filling those belts somehwere in the middle of last night'.

Truth was Kliko wouldn't have mind the back breaking labor. The big bad of shadow ops being the waiting and prep in between the real action. Frag, since he'd had the cultured bioware sleep regulator installed he found himself up late at night either playing Modern Warfare 2061 out of sheer boredom. It improved his reflexes alright but with his spawn gradually leaving home left him without anything useful about the house to do.

Lights showed up in the distance of Garcia Avenue. 'Guess who'll be first to arrive....'
ntwi
06:06:03 Tuesday, 10 October 2062 – 680 Garcia Avenue Pittsburgh

A small VW pulls into the parking lot, and Felix climbs out, stretching in the early morning air. "Any idea where we're headed?" he asks as he pulls a duffel from the trunk. With Kliko's answering shrug he mutters "Fragging super secret squirrel routine" as he grabs several smaller bags and tucks them all into the duffel while continuing to mutter to himself. "Cold, hot and wet... camo's easy now... We clear for carrying heavy metal?" Felix ask the last to Kliko before taking a hard plastic case and laying it beside the duffel.

Unpacking complete, Felix reaches back into the car and pulls out a carrier with a half dozen steaming soy-caf's. "Want one?" he asks while leaning against the car and sipping his own, waiting for the rest to arrive.
Mister Juan
04:02:05 Tuesday, 10 October 2062 (CFS/PST/Uniform) – Ludmilla's House, CFS

Ludmilla’s eyes opened as if someone had yanked her eyelids off her face. The phone on her nightstand threw out a blue green hue as it skittered its way towards the edge. Something faint was still clouding the back of her mind. There had been a dream. She had felt dust and smelt earth. It was already fading away back to whatever corner of her brain it had sprung out from. As she reached for the phone before it made the inevitable plunge towards the floor, she wondered what had waked her up: her dream or her phone.

She rubbed her eyes and yawned as she focused on the tiny screen. One of her feet had wiggled its way out from under the covers while she slept, and she shivered as she pulled it back under. She looked at her phone again. They were on. Whatever it was they were about to do was starting tonight. Or maybe it was this morning. She sat in the large bed, her back against the headboard. Ludmilla sat there, in the darkness of her bedroom, alone. She listened to the brand new house breath around her. She almost heard Zina snore in the next room. The city’s light bounced off the smog cloud covered and filtered through the blinds. The young woman closed her eyes and let her head rest on her pulled up knees. She felt tired and sore. She felt like a kid who didn’t want to go to school and felt like pretending she was sick.

A few minutes later, she was pushing herself out of bed and jumped into some clothes. Zina already knew she’d be leaving, and even thought she disagreed, every single day, with what her niece did, the old Russian woman would still look after Lana, no matter what.

When she stood by the door, ready to leave her sleeping home behind, Ludmilla caught her own reflection in the mirror she had hung just by the door. Somehow, she didn’t feel quite so young anymore. It seemed as if her features were taunt over her face. Maybe, just maybe.... Maybe time was finally catching back to her. She swallowed and felt a lump catch itself in the pit of her stomach. She looked up toward the stairs; towards Lana’s room. All she wanted was to go back up those stairs, to wake her up and tell her how much she loved her. She wanted to pull her close. But then, Lana would know... She would know her mother was leaving, again. And that, Ludmilla couldn’t find the will to go through.

Carrying her bags towards her car, Ludmilla knew one thing for sure. She was a coward.

06:08:32 Tuesday, 10 October 2062 (CFS/PST/Uniform) – 680 Garcia Avenue Pittsburgh

Kliko and Felix saw Ludi’s car before they heard it. The sleek sports car’s engine was a discreet piece of machinery, as it hummed and clicked rather than roared. As it approached the parking lot, its bright red color looking blood red under the streetlights, its headlights went off. A few seconds later, Ludmilla had parked the car next to Felix’s. The woman that stepped looked nothing like an ex FSB field agent. With baggy, worn out jeans, and a zipped up blue hoodie, Ludi looked more like a soccer mom than anything else. She was apparently already working furiously around a chunk of nicotine chewing gum. She didn’t say anything to the two men. As a matter of fact, she didn’t even acknowledge them until she had unloaded all her gear from the trunk.
Pulling the hood over her head, Ludi stuck her hands inside her pockets and shivered.

“Do we have any idea where we’re headed?” she asked Kliko
Kliko
06:10:14 Monday, 9 October 2062 – 680 Garcia Avenue Pittsburgh

Handing Ludi over one of the styrofoam soykaf cups Felix brought along, "Sugar... milk?"

"Our pick up is in some 5 minutes from now, taking us to Oakland airport, destination unknown. I bet we won't be briefed until we're safely airborn. Johnson would supply required local requirements, so we should be fine."

"The rest better hurry up and make it in time or they're out."

"If this new girl is a no show, I'll have Jaxx reclaim the advance and frag her up. You don't get this far by playing nice all the time."
Bastard
06:15:00 Tuesday, 10 October 2062 – 680 Garcia Avenue Pittsburg

At a quarter after, on the dot, two large black SUVs pull into the parking lot. Kliko does another headcount, which he knows hasn't changed since Ludi arrived. Starling, Knuckle Duster and V are still missing. Son of a bitch. Way to make a first impression on the new Johnson! He looks at Ludi, who is looking down, shamefully shaking her head, Felix looks a bit more troubled about the no-shows, while Bubba doesn't seem to notice anything is wrong.

"Fuck."
"No shit."
"What the hell."

Bubba looks around confused, not knowing what has upset his teammates. He starts to feel embarrassed. Certainly he screwed up, but what did he do? Gradually he notices that no one is looking at him, and his tongue drops to his chin as a large smile returns to his face. "God dammit!" he joins his comrades in the cursing, but still not knowing why.

A man in a cheap black suit steps out of the lead vehicle. Approaching the team, he says, "I am Smitty. I will be driving you to the airport."

"Half of our team is still in route. They uh... had to pick up some equipment still," Kliko gets out almost confidently.
"That is fine, but I have orders to leave by 6:45 at the latest."
"They will be here."
"No problem. Let's get your gear loaded up."

Smitty opens the rear of the first SUV, revealing four 40 gal rubber storage lock boxes. Kliko loads three duffel bags, a ruck sack and a large backpack into two lockers, while Felix takes one to load a medium duffel and a an assault pack and donates a third rubber locker. Bubba loads his weapons directly into one of the boxes, along with a duffel bag and a few brown paper grocery bags. In the second vehicle there are four more lock boxes, where Ludi stores her backpack, rucksack and large duffel bag.

After each box is locked, Smitty hands the key to the owner of the contents.

Shortly after the punctual members are loaded up, Starling arrives. She looks ready to apologize to Kliko and Ludi, but after the harsh looks, she simply asks where to load her gear. She loads a duffel bag and large back pack into a lock box, takes her key, and then quietly takes position behind the team.


06:44:00 Tuesday, 10 October 2062 – 680 Garcia Avenue Pittsburg

Kliko and Ludi are in the first row of seating in the front SUV, with Bubba in the passenger seat. Felix is sitting in the driver seat of the rigger controlled second vehicle, with Starling in the passenger seat.

"Well, looks like its the five of us," Felix tells Starling.
"I don't mean to sound unprofessional, but is this how you normally run?"
"No. I don't even know these other two fraggers."

At the last minute, Knuckle Duster pulls in on his chopper. Smitty directs where he is to load his gear, a moderate sized duffel bag. He is followed by V, also on a chopper. She loads her back pack and small red duffel bag with Duster's.

The two of them climb into the first row of seats of the second vehicle.

"Sorry. I am unreliable," Duster says as he enters the vehicle.

V shortly follows with a heartfelt, "Sorry, I just don't really give a shit," and takes her seat.
Bastard
07:45:06 Tuesday, 10 October 2062 – Oakland Airport, Private Transportation Area

After a short delay, the two trucks pull through the gate by a small office at the Oakland Airport. They drive straight onto the tarmac next to a large private jet. Two men in blue jumpsuits load the lock boxes from the trucks onto the jet. Smitty directs the team to the stairs leading to the jet's entrance.

At the door, a bearded man with greying hair, dressed in black slacks, white short sleeve shirt and black tie greats them. On his shoulders are black tabs with yellow stripes and a on his chest, above his heart are a pair of gold wings.

"Welcome aboard. I am Captain Jack Burro. I will be your pilot."

Behind him is another man, younger and clean shaven, minus the attempt at a mustache, dressed similarly, and two young ladies who are obviously the flight attendants. "Hi, I am your co-pilot, Joe, and the ladies are Stacy and Michelle. They will be taking care of all your needs during the flight. Welcome aboard."

To the right there are six recliners and two couches made of beige leather with mocha trim, matching the lower half of the walls. The thick carpet is white, matching the upper walls and ceiling. Past the main seating area is a computer work station on one side of the plane, and a small kitchenette/bar on the other. Past that is the front cabin and cock pit. In the other direction is a conference table with six chairs, complete with a second work station and bar. Past that is the bathroom and a separate room, which contains the bunks and some storage closets.

Most of the party is taken aback by the world-class interior. Most of them have never even seen the inside of a hotel this nice. Bubba quickly does a running back-flop onto the closest recliner. Everyone else has a bit more tact and attempts to act like this is a normal occurrence and takes their seats.

The two fight attendants ensure everyone is comfortable, and informs them that take off will be at 8:10. Co-pilot Joe informs them that due to delays in the team's arrival, that once they are in the air, Mrs. Johnson will be meeting with them. Breakfast will be served at that time, and menus are provided. Plan for a breakfast meeting at 0845.

08:09:19 Tuesday, 10 October 2062 – Oakland Airport, Private Transportation Area

"This is your captain speaking. We are cleared for takeoff. Please remain seated, and we wish you a comfortable and luxurious flight."
Bastard
08:43:48 Tuesday, 10 October 2062 – Aboard private jet, somewhere over the Pacific

By the time breakfast is served, the view out of the windows is nothing but blue ocean and clouds. The six of them, minus Bubba, sit at the conference table enjoying real food for once, not soy or soy-products. Hotcakes, bacon, sausage, eggs, hash browns, and real coffee. Bubba has already finished several plates and is working on another from his recliner.

The two flight attendants bus the table and inform the team Miss Johnson will be with them shortly.


A woman enters from the front cabin, wearing a grey designer business suit with a skirt falling just above the knees. Her black blouse matches her hair which is tied back low at the back of her neck, from which a feather dangles from the band. She appears to be hispanic, but several other accessories appear to be Native American, and she could easily pass for an Amerindian.

She confidently approaches the team, "Good morning ladies and gentlemen. I, of course, am Miss Johnson."
Mister Juan
08:43:56 Tuesday, 10 October 2062 (CFS/PST/Uniform) – Aboard private jet, somewhere over the Pacific

Ludmila had been, for the lack of a better term, lounging in her chair. She hadn’t laid her eyes, let alone her hands, on food of this caliber for a long time. She somewhat resented the fact that the only time she could be guaranteed a good meal was when someone else was footing the bill, and when that someone was as crooked and dirty as someone could be. At least, that’s what she thought. Someone was probably going to end up being double tapped for this tasty bacon.
So far, the whole affair felt more like a vacation rather than a job. As she put a second cup of coffee into her system, she reminded herself that to some people, this was actually part of their day to day job; people like this Mrs Johnson.

When the woman actually showed up, like some apparition, Ludmila was slightly taken aback. Sure, they’d been told she would be “joining them”. She had taken for granted that there would be some sort of virtual meeting. A trideo conference. Maybe even a prerecorded briefing. But actually being there in the flesh? She hadn’t expected that at all. This meant the woman either had something very heavy up her sleeve or she was extremely confident in herself or her handlers.
She straightened in her seat and brushed a loose strand of black hair out of her eyes.

Just who in their right minds would lock themselves in with trained killers, thousands of feet up in the air?
SneakyJoeKDB
08:44:00 Monday, 9 October 2062 – Aboard private jet, somewhere over the Pacific

Bubba continued to shovel food into his mouth bite after bite. The food was delicious; so good that he couldnt get enough and manners were out the door. His purple pimp suit with fancy hat and red feather were taking a food beating. Crumbs, syrup, and egg smears managed to find their way into various locations. It didnt help that Bubba used his sleeve to wipe his mouth.

When the Johnson walked in Bubba took his eyes off his plate slowly looking up as his eyes followed her legs to her chest. Crumbs fell out the corner of Bubba's mouth as his mouth hung open. After a long pause and silence Bubba finally made eye contact. 'Shes so prettys'. Bubba was stunned for a moment but quickly gathered himself rising to his feet. He remembered a line he read in his magazine How to be a Sexy Fat Boy.

He nearly dropped his plate of food but caught it. Then with a soft and deep voice he said,

"Heya Baby hows you doings? My names Big Bubba's, Captain of Big Bubba's train of loves. Would you likes to come aboards? Hoot Hoot....!!!"

His hand gestured pulling on a train horn. Then Bubba flashed a Huge grin while staring at the Johnson. There was a cute and child like flare to the smile as if the troll was proud of himself for saying something he deemed to be smart.
Bastard
08:47:02 Tuesday, 10 October 2062 – Aboard private jet, somewhere over the Pacific

Bubba was hoping for a blushing Miss Johnson, but instead found an awkward silence, full of stares. From the the harsh scornful ones from Ludi and Felix that he could feel burning through his poor body all the way to his soul, to the questioning stares of V and Starling, as if he could hear their eyes saying, "What the frag?" Knuckle Duster was the only one not staring, because he was covering his face, looking down at the floor, silently laughing in fits at the far end of the table, his face beet red. The one that hurt the most though was Kliko's look of total shame.

Miss Johnson was also looking harshly at him, but quickly her eyes lost their glare and turned friendly. After what seemed like an eternity, Miss Johnson continued.

"That's nice," she says as she slowly starts walking around the table as she speaks, either putting distance between herself and Bubba, or getting an edge by walking behind the team.

From behind Kliko she continues, "We have a long flight ahead of us, but not enough time for those kind of shenanigans, Mister... Red Feather," she indicates with a nod toward Bubba.

"Sorry..." Bubba grumbles, toward Miss Johnson. He catches Kliko's eye and mumbles a barely audible "sorry" again. He lifts his head just enough to scan the table for an escape, to only find scornful glares... and Duster hyperventilating.

The Johnson continues, "It is 12 hours to our first stop in Japan, where we will have a one hour layover while we refuel. From there, we will travel another 11 hours to the Middle East. From there you will disembark and board a helicopter which will take you to your site, which will take you on a short flight to your insertion point."

She continues to slowly stroll around the table, and is now behind Starling making her way toward Duster, "Yes. I know this is not the most direct route, but I want to keep the appearance of 'business as usual' as long as possible.

"So. To the job. I don't want to reveal too much yet, because there are still other factions searching for its location. Once we leave Japan, I will give you more detail, but you need to clear with me any calls you want to make. I don't want anyone beating us to the punch, as I am sure you agree."

Miss Johnson hops up on the kitchenette bar in the corner behind Duster and crosses her legs in one smooth motion. "What I can tell you now is; Your target is an artifact worth a lot of money. At least to me. I believe it is located in the ruins of a Middle Eastern city, not directly destroyed by the Desert Wars, but it has had its economy and natural resources devastated turning the city into a war zone itself, but," she pauses, and the corners of her mouth turn up, just a bit, "I was told you have been to Denver, so this should not be a problem. Same amount of anarchy, but less government interference."

She continues the briefing, "You will insert several kilometers outside the city at dusk. From there, you will make your way to the ruins, retrieve the artifact, and return. We are dropping you off at sunset. The night should not only provide you cover, but the local population is a much less active at night. We will give you coordinates to be picked up at sunrise. If for some reason you cannot make the pickup, then we are prepared to pull you out under any means necessary... so long as you have our artifact. Each of you will carry a transponder that you can turn on to be picked up. It will turn on automatically an hour after sunrise, in case you are unable to turn it on yourselves for some reason.

"We will also provide you with mission essential gear, as promised. You can leave any of your personal gear on board that you decide not to take on the mission. I think you will be impressed what kind of gear we have for you on this run. Sweat-wicking form-fitting armor, with reinforced Kevlar plates. Fully armored desert camo, including jackets with built in ammo pouches. The jackets are lightweight, so they wont overheat you on the move, and have a removable insert, to keep you warm in the desert night. We also have camouflage assault pack ammo belt combos," Miss Johnson has a discernible smile. She looks confident... and proud of the equipment she is providing.

"To top it off, I spoke with your fixer after you accepted the job. Based on your rep, I thought you might have everything you need for sneaking around the city, but... for sneaking around the Middle East? I know you usually worry about concealability, but that shouldn't be a problem... But sound suppressors might help. Your fixer told me what you usually carry, but to cover bases I got that, and then some.

"We also have several basic assault rifles with infrared laser sights and smartlinks. Just in case you needed more firepower than you planned. We also have helmets with built in night vision, smartlink and BattleTach compatible.

"Now, I know you also wanted vehicles, but we will be your vehicle. I assume you are used to relying on yourselves, but I tried to make you as comfortable as possible with relying on an unknown source. When you think about it, what have I got to gain if I leave you behind with my artifact? Not a whole lot. So that makes me pretty reliable for my own selfish reasons.

"To put your mind at ease, as well as mine, in addition to your transponders that are installed in your jackets, we will also supply you with some smoke grenades to signal our helo, in the event that we cannot locate you by radio or track your transponder."
ntwi
08:48:02 Tuesday, 10 October 2062 – Aboard private jet, somewhere over the Pacific

"Do you have an approximate size, material or mass for the artifact so we can plan for moving it in an appropriately warded container?" Felix asks Ms Johnson "I presume you'll have recent satellite photomaps of the city for us after we leave Japan so that we do not attract attention sourcing them ourselves on short notice? You've got quite the stockpile of physical gear onboard, any linguasofts for the local dialect, whether Arabic, Persian, Pashtu, Dari, Herbrew..." Felix trails off as he reorganizes his mental checklists to create one for a night desert/city operation.
SneakyJoeKDB
08:49:12 Monday, 9 October 2062 – Aboard private jet, somewhere over the Pacific

Kliko's fatherly stare of disappointment said it all. Bubba shrunk inside realizing what he said was off. After all this wasn't a late night club. This was the real deal, a million dollar job and he almost fragged it up with a sad pick up line.

He barely muttered the word "sorry" to Kliko. The harsh glare of discipline worked. From that moment on Bubba was serious and his limited attention span was in check. He was in the zone, following every word and detail being uttered by the Johnson.

A few key words stuck out leaving Bubba with some questions. 'Other factions? Why the military outfitting? What is this artifact? Sound Supressors?' 'Million dollar job for sure cause we are going to war!!'

Although these questions came to Bubba's mind he dared not open his mouth.
Jaruen
Duster slowly brings himself under composure, wiping away the tears. With Bubba, it always leads to tears, half the time from laughing so hard, the other half...well, big boy needs to learn some personal hygiene. He goes over everything the Johnson said, and noticed one thing the Johnson failed to mention.

"Excuse me, Miss Johnson, I do have one question for you. Why now? This mysterious artifact hidden, like Aladdin's Lamp, in the cradle of civilization, wasn't created a week or two ago, correct? What event brings us all together? Don't get me wrong, my question is not a sentimental one, but a practical. What clue did you uncover that had you put this in motion, and more importantly, who else would both be interested in said Lamp and be able to piece together the same puzzle pieces you have. You mentioned rival factions...war-torn Mogadishu is bad enough, but we appear to be well-equipped for that. Add a couple Red Samurai or Aztec extraction teams, however, and our plans will need modification.

Also, I assume you have read our individual dossiers. I would like to clear a call to my cousin after you tell us our final destination. I am sure you understand what I am asking. If you are concerned about giving me a specific location, perhaps you could give me a short list, including the target city. If these rival factions are watching you, they may have compromised your personal assets, but my cousin and his associates have their own pool of resources."
Kliko
08:57:51 Monday, 9 October 2062 – Aboard private jet, somewhere over the Pacific

Kliko wasn't sure whether to laugh or to cry from Bubba's remarks. In any other situation this would be hilarious and one big joke. But flying near mach 0.8 over the Pacific with ms Johnson wasn't one of those situations. 'I have to do something, something smart.... something to kiss up.'

Clearing his throat Kliko opened up "Thank you for your thorough preparations miss Johnson. You provided everything I asked for and more. I trust it will come in mighty handy once we close in on our dropzone."

"Now I have two important questions for you Ma'am... 1) will you be joining us on the final leg? and 2) why are we not moving in with a Rotorcraft, raid whatever location this artefact is hidden and move out again by Rotorcraft? ... I mean no offense Ma'am, but humping back some five to ten clicks to exfil takes time and the bigger this timeframe, the higher the risk we compromize our ... your opsec."

'She must think herself playing at spygames. Frag that, this shit is real chummer'

"If we can raid the place hard and fast, that would be preferred ... do any of these factions have access to ground-to-air capabilities Ma'am?"
bak0n
08:57:55 Monday, 9 October 2062 – Aboard private jet, somewhere over the Pacific

"IDC! RWTY? Soo annoying! Lets either get to work or get to play. Seriously. kkthx newbs!

At least the troll is bring some mild entertainment on this drab flight." /Scoff.
Bastard
08:58:15 Tuesday, 10 October 2062 – Aboard private jet, somewhere over the Pacific

Miss Johnson listens intently to the questions of each person. When there is a break in the questions, she continues her briefing.

"Very good questions. I will try to answer them all to the best of my ability."

She looks to Felix to answer the first questions first. "Yes, I have a small plastisteel box that is heavily warded. I also have the linguisofts your fixer requested. I have seven Arabic and seven Kurdish, so you will all have one of each. Arabic is the predominant language spoken, where only 10-20% of the population speaks Kurdish. There is a plethora of languages and dialects spoken in the area amongst the minority, so I provided you with a Persian and Turkish linguisoft as well. I also have four German softs, as there are a lot of German interests in the area, and you are more likely to run into and need to communicate with one of them, than one of the 20 other languages spoken in the area."

She smiles at Felix, then turns to Knuckle Duster. "Why now? Excellent question, and your observation is keen."

Miss Johnson eyes look up at the ceiling of the plane, at the recessed blue lighting above Kliko's head. Her hands that have been clasped together in her lap part as she brings her right hand to her chin for just a second, before returning to her previous position, her eyes locked on Knuckle Duster's.

"There are so many factors. Mostly, it was thought lost... or at least thought that the owner had a well kept secret. Suddenly, just over a week ago, there is talk on the black market it may be for sale. Further investigation uncovered that the item was not for sale, but instead its location. I was skeptical, but the seller, or at least his lawyer had enough knowledge that I thought it possible. I wanted to do some deeper digging, not wanting to be conned. While that was going on, I also worked on retaining the best shadowrun team I could find."

Her compliment is sincere, with no hint of shallow flattery.

"My investigators didn't find anything indicating the man was lying about his knowledge, so I paid him. However, I don't believe I am the only buyer, because after the sale, he went underground. I hadn't even paid him in full, as part of the payment was due after I had received the product. So either I have been conned, or he sold the information to others as well. Something made him run, and either way, if I don't get the product I paid for, I will have a second mission for you."

At this statement, a cruel smile emerges from her previously innocent face. Knuckle Duster would later swear he even saw sharp teeth.

Her smile fades from the toothy grin back to its previous form, "As for war-torn Mogadishu, I think you have crossed your classic movies with modern violent sports. While your assessment is not far off on the appearance and physical layout of the city, I don't think you will be fighting an army of civilians, malnourished and untrained, or otherwise."

Miss Johnson shifts her position on the counter a bit, so she can better face Kliko. "Which brings me to your questions about the location of the drop and the ground-to-air capabilities of rival fractions. Mainly, I don't want to go right above the target because I don't want to make our objective too obvious to those who know the artifact is in the city, or at least the area, but not it's exact location. I am sure if we did that, if they had surface-to-air capabilities they would use them, but I more worried about being able to extract you afterwards, and while waiting or return to extract your team, that is when the RPGs would come into play. I even thought about having you air drop in, but I am certain that a stealthy approach is going to be better for all of us over a blitz.

"In addition, a helo flying over the city is going to draw some attention, so dropping you on the outskirts should draw much less. Though not as likely, there is still the possibility of civilian or militia RPGs, which is another reason to avoid the city.

"Now about maps and land navigation, the heads-up-display in your helmets have a satellite image that will show your position, as well as an overlay with compass. In case all of your visors fail, I will also provide you with a paper map. You can never be too prepared."

She turns back to Knuckle Duster, "As for who you contact, I really wish you keep it to a minimum. I should be able to answer all of your questions, but if you insist, I am not going to stop you from doing your job."

Miss Johnson pauses, starts to scan the table, then as if she remembers something, "Oh. And yes," she looks back at Kliko, "I will be on the plane the whole time, but not on the helo."

"I hope I have answered your questions thoroughly, and didn't raise too many more in my attempt."
SneakyJoeKDB
08:59:15 Tuesday, 9 October 2062 – Aboard private jet, somewhere over the Pacific

Bubba cleared his throat was about ready to speak when he saw the dagger like stares from his teammates. He took a deep breath then said,

"So whats we looking fors? You keep calling its an artifacts but yous not tellings us what it is? Or why so many factions would be after its? We gonna get this ting for you no doubts, but what exactlys are we gettings for yous, pandoras box?"

"...And one others ting who dids you buy the locations of the artifacts froms? Some backgrounds informations can be helpfuls."
Kliko
09:07:23 Monday, 9 October 2062 – Aboard private jet, somewhere over the Pacific

Fiddling his left-side tusk Kliko was putting one and one together ... 'We'll have to adapt and improvise' He didn't like it, but they would just have to find some form of local transportation down on the ground to haul the load. 'It's fraggin impossible to look inconspiciously walking about with an HMG or Ares Alpha'.

"Thank you for your explanation Ma'am. We'll prep up after we leave Japan. Is there some place my crew can discuss the job at hand privately?"
Bastard
09:08:15 Tuesday, 10 October 2062 – Aboard private jet, somewhere over the Pacific

Miss Johnson turns to Bubba as he asks his questions. With a kind smile she answers, "What I am after is a cloak, with some magical abilities. I will have more details once we leave Japan. I will also provide you with a transport box that is heavily warded to mask the 'artifact's' signature, and allow you to transport it, without being traced. Astrally, at least."

After hearing Kliko's request, Miss Johnson rises from her seat on the counter. "The room is yours," she says, spreading her hands, palms up. As she slowly walks around the table once again, she tells them, "If you need anything you can page the staff using the buttons by each door. I will inform them that you are not to be disturbed until you ring for them."

"If there is nothing else, I will leave you to it." She stops, gives a deep head nod to the table, with eyes closed. She then returns to the front cabin, leaving the team to discuss the job.

Once the doors separating the cabins shut, Bubba turns back to Kliko from following Miss Johnson's exit. With a startled face, which slowly turns into one of hopeful bliss, he says, "She winked at me!"
Jaruen
09:09:35 Monday, 9 October 2062 – Aboard private jet, somewhere over the Pacific

Giving the Johnson a minute to get out of earshot (yeah right), Duster looks at Kliko and, figuring the Johnson has to deal with runners' paranoia on a regular basis, asks point-blank "Are we worried about eavesdropping, or should we just make our plans upfront?"
Kliko
09:010:05 Monday, 9 October 2062 – Aboard private jet, somewhere over the Pacific

Offering a datacable to to Ludi, tranducers kicked in screaming translating mental impulses in cohesive thoughts and messages as Ludmilla slotted the cable in her datajack 'it's the only way to secure coms right now. You brought a white noise generator per any chance?'

A few seconds later Ludmilla deployed the pocket-sized generator on the luxury table.

"So what do you guys think? Its not to late to walk away if anyone has a bad vibe about the job..."

"Me I think simple run minimal complications. We move in real slow taking most of the night. Strike two hours before dawn and get the frag out of there by any means.... Moving around our hardware on the way in is probably going to be the biggest challenge I foresee."
Mister Juan
09:11:00 Tuesday, 10 October 2062 (CFS/PST/Uniform) – Aboard private jet, somewhere over the Pacific

Ludmila had been completely silent during the entire exchange. She had taken a few short notes on her pocket secretary, either things their employer had said or things she hadn't. When she reviewed her two column list, she quickly realized that one side was much heavier than the other... and it wasn't the side she liked.

Once the white noise generator was humming with life, Ludmila ran a hand through her hair and rubbed her face. Strangely enough, she felt tired. Kliko was his usual confident self, and although it rarely bothered her, she found it rubbed her the wrong way.

“I think it's fragged up and I don't like it.” she said, eyes on the table.

She glanced up quickly at Kliko.

“We know nothing. And I don't mean the usual nothing. I mean, literally nothing! If there's even a tiny fragging hitch along the way, we are... how do you Yanks put it... we're up the shit river without a...”

Ludi made a sort of swimming gesture, to which Felix offered “paddle.”

“Yea. A paddle.” finished the young woman without acknowledging the help.

“Even when we'll know where we're going, our options will be almost ridiculously limited. I mean, what if something happens to Miss Johnson's transport? What then? I mean, the entire region is fragged up, from Israel to India. It is not the sort of place you want to be stuck in...”

She took a brief pause to sigh.

“I'm not saying I'm not in.... I just think we are taking a big risk here... more so than usual. We have no intel, no ground transport, no back up, no contacts. We are pretty much boxed in here!”
SneakyJoeKDB
09:11:30 Tuesay, 9 October 2062 – Aboard private jet, somewhere over the Pacific

Sensing Ludi's concern Bubba did his best to reasure her while adding a little humor.

"Wells it's a million dollar jobs. We dont makes that kind of monies without risks... "

Bubba paused then continued.

"I means... dontcha worries Ludi's I'll make sure you and Lanis visits Big Bubba at my donut shops agains. Deese are the kinds of missions I likes where I gets to smash things! And besides we got yous, a Jedi, my mad sneakies and body shields, Kliko's brains, Felixs and Vs mojo mix... we gots dis handles.

Bubba stood up extended his arms out to his sides and while shaking his hands with flare he began to sway his hips.


"...and besides dat mighty sexy Misses da Johnsons wants my body so I am definetlys coming back for some of dat."
Kliko
09:12:21 Monday, 9 October 2062 – Aboard private jet, somewhere over the Pacific

Looking around the assembled crew Kliko waited for any other reactions before giving his scoop on the run.

"There's stuff I don't like, but given some precautions I believe its an acceptable risk... planning-wise you guys might have noticed I generally tend to plan runs backwards, as in from the extraction, exfil, back to the run at hand and infil... Now there was a damned good reason why asked you to bring along two sat-phones..."

"Independent extractions takes time to setup, so I brought along enough rations to cover us for some 5 days. I brought a water filtration unit so we won't die of thirst and some 10k in assorted corps script to cover bribes and expenses on the road. Now I guess we got independent extraction covered, aye?"

Waiting for the teams acknowledgement Kliko continues elaborating his plan:

"Now for the run part... miss J supplied local dress, appropiate combat gear, linguasofts, mapsofts, the works. First of all, we'll be disabling some of the transponder features she provided... I don't want the J or anybody else for the matter where we are during our run. Now Battle Tactm wont't be any good, unless one of you volunteers to carry a 120 pound master-unit on the way or we have some sort of hovering drone lugging it around... if it was me I'd spend the weight on water and ammo..."

'Mental note to self: request drone, master-unit, master comm-unit and remote control deck with miss J'

"For the grab, we hit hard and fast, maximizing disorientation that comes with the full battlefield experience. Now what we should consider... knowing the items location has been sold to multiple parties, if we want to move in slow, strike and run like hell... or Move in fast, strike and play a little cat and mouse with everything our target location has to offer... until sunrise"
Bastard
09:13:05 Tuesday, 10 October 2062 – Aboard private jet, somewhere over the Pacific

Still trying to mark her territory, Starling added brashly, "I don't see why we don't get in and out as fast as possible. If we act quickly, we should be the first ones in and out, and we have the firepower to take on a Desert Wars squad."
Jaruen
09:13:15 Monday, 9 October 2062 – Aboard private jet, somewhere over the Pacific

Duster, as always, is more than ready to bring his paranoid pessimism to the planning table. He barely waits for Kliko to finish his spiel before starting off. "Okay, then, let's look at extraction first. I know everybody mocks a 'runner's paranoia, but let's face it, runners without said paranoia tend to be daisy-food. So, even though its painfully cliche, let's begin our looking at exfiltration with the consideration of Mrs. J accepting us with open arms and a wad of nuyen, and then just dumping our bodies in the Pacific and go from there, shall we? First concern, all protestations on her part aside, how do we protect ourselves from the hypothetical screw-over by our Johnson? Let's face it, once we relinquish the artifact to her possession, we have absolutely zero leverage with her. I have a couple thoughts, but I would like to hear what you all think about this."
Bastard
19:49:11 Tuesday, 10 October 2062 (CFS/PST/Uniform) – Aboard private jet, Japan
11:49:11 Wednesday, 11 October 2062 (Japan/JST/India)

The gravitational force of the quick deceleration after a smooth landing jolts the passengers into full consciousness. They had tried to get as much rest as possible, even with a Johnson sitting just one door away from them. Looking out the window, it was late morning or early afternoon. Looking at their watches, it should be late into the evening.

They had not seen Miss Johnson since the briefing, and they had not asked. It seemed that the more questions she had answered, the more questions arose. After a few hours of discussion, it seemed they would have to wait for more detail.

Military experience had Kliko and Ludi well trained to put this anticipation out of the forefront of their minds, allowing them to stay somewhat less stressed, though you would not know it by the constant tapping of Ludi's foot. Starling, seemed to be handling it well, or at least quietly. She didn't talk much the whole flight, but intently listened on any team discussions, before retreating back to her corner. V didn't seem bothered at all. More impatient than anxious. The young woman had an I-don't-give-a-shit attitude of a teenager that rivaled Kliko's eldest. Bubba was oblivious to any trouble, that is the upside of being a big and nearly invulnerable to physical danger. A low IQ helps, too. The fear of the unknown seemed to be have the biggest affect on Felix and Duster. They were smart and experienced enough to know the dangers of being unprepared.

The crew allowed had allowed them a short 30 minute break from their confinement. Being out on the open tarmac while the plane refueled was not of a break, but it allowed for some much needed leg and back stretching and fresh air. It did not go unnoticed that Bubba's new commitment to hygiene was a welcomed blessing.


21:03:52 Tuesday, 10 October 2062 (CFS/PST/Uniform) – Aboard private jet, Japan
13:03:52 Wednesday, 11 October 2062 (Japan/JST/India)

The jet smoothly levels off at cruising altitude. It was going to be another ten and a half hours aboard the plane, before landing and transferring over to the helicopter for the infiltration.

Stacy and Michelle quickly returned to the main cabin to take dinner orders. If dinner as anything like breakfast and lunch, the team was going to be in heaven. Except for Bubba, who requested donuts, which depressingly were not on the menu. Once their secondary briefing is completed, dinner will be served.

"How's can dey makes robster on da plane, but not donuts! Ain'ts make no senses! Dis plane is stupid!" Bubba pouted.


21:14:31 Tuesday, 10 October 2062 (CFS/PST/Uniform) – Aboard private jet, Japan
13:14:31 Wednesday, 11 October 2062 (Japan/JST/India)

Miss Johnson returns, this time sporting tan cargo pants and an open black five button tee, a gold feather pendant and carrying a slender black leather bag.

"I am sure you have many questions, and many requests. I will answer them all, if I can, and then we will get you geared up."

She sets her bag down on the conference table and pulls out a folder. Opening it, she starts laying down several photographs and a map, on the table.

Mister Juan
21:14:31 Tuesday, 10 October 2062 (CFS/PST/Uniform) – Aboard private jet, Japan

Ludmila had already chewed through an entire pack of nicotine gum, and the craving was only growing stronger. She listened her way through two complete music chips she had brought until she had finally decided to kick her boots off and tuck her feet under her. She wasn't particularly tired, but she knew all too well that sleep might be in short supply if things bogged down on the ground, so she grabbed her jacket and covered herself with it.

Looking over towards Knuckle Duster, seated just within arm's reach, she was about to say something when he cut in.

“Don't worry. If we go down in flames, I'll wake you up.”

She smirked back at him, bunched herself up and went to sleep almost immediately.

When they hit the Japanese tarmac a few hours later, Ludi almost bolted out of the door and had a smoke lit before her feet had even touched the ground. She pulled on the cigarette as if her life depended on it, knowing all too well it would be the last one for a while. She stretched, feeling joints and muscles pop, and jogged a few laps for get the cramps out of her body. The 30 minutes they were given felt like 30 seconds, and before she could even feel herself uncoiling, they were wheels up again.

A few minutes later, there employer made her second entrance. Like her first, it didn't go unnoticed. Things, apparently, were finally starting to move. As she began to lay down physical data on the table, Ludi had to use all of her willpower not to pounce on them for intel.
Bastard
21:15:17 Tuesday, 10 October 2062 (CFS/PST/Uniform) – Aboard private jet, Japan
13:15:17 Wednesday, 11 October 2062 (Japan/JST/India)

Miss Johnson lays down several aerial photos of a large city and surrounding area. It appears to be a pretty modern, early 21st century at least, European or Middle Eastern city that has been deserted. Left to the hands of nature and time, without the intervention of human upkeep, the city has fallen in disarray.

Laying out the last few photographs Miss Johnson says, "As you can see, you are headed for Tehran. We will land in Dubai eight hours from now. From there you will travel by helo for two hours and be dropped off in the mountains east of Tehran."

She pulls a large tablet computer from her bag and places the it on the table between Kliko and Ludi. On the screen is the aerial image of the city.

"You can adjust the image, but it is not live. It is the latest satellite image from the matrix, updated last month." She pulls a second tablet from her bag, then sets the bag down. Miss Johnson takes position a few steps away from the table, seeming more professional in her casual dress, than the previous meeting, where she seemed a lot more casual in her business suit.

"The artifact is in question is the Veil of Malik, said to be a an item owned by the Sultan Malik Shah I of the Persian Empire. It is rumored to have some magical properties, but not what exactly they are. The silk garment has been tracked down and said to be hidden in the ruins of the mosque at the Iran University of Science and Technology. The Veil should be behind a tile in the main room, and is said to be held in an old wooden box. The case I will provide you will easily fit both, and is heavily warded. You will not feel any effects from the item once it is inside the case, and it will not be tracked astrally."

She lifts her tablet with her left hand, using her right to work the screen. "In a little over eight hours, we will be landing in Dubai. We will get you geared up on the tarmac, and load into the helo there. The helo will lift off 1700 local time, and travel north across the Persian Gulf." A blue line follows the flight Miss Johnson describes on the tablet on the table. "By the time it hits land, the sun should be setting, the helo will cut east to the mountain ranges, where it then follow the valley towards Tehran.

"The helo will set you down in Sorkheh Hesar National Park, south east of the outskirts of the city. If there are difficulties setting down, we are prepared to drop you in via Smart Repel. There are a few villages nearby which will provide trails to descend the mountain easily, and will doubtfully take any notice to you."

A green circle appears at the end of the blue line, then a green line continues toward the city, and makes its way to the IUST Mosque.

"Here is the most dangerous portion of your travel. While Tehran once was a budding first world city, a population once pushing 15 million, now lays in ruins. The financial collapse of the Middle East and the Desert Wars took its toll. Businesses left, and the upper and middle classes followed. Left behind was an unattended city left to the poor and the looters. Megacorps, governments and other organizations have been trying to rebuild the great city for the past decade, but it still has a way to go. The population is estimated at 1 to 2 million, between the poor spread across the entire city, and the rebuilding sector in the middle of the city near the airport.

"The Middle East in the past two centuries has been a known for violent religious extremism, but fortunately, the majority of the groups in this area are unorganized and untrained. The megacorp interests in the area are all far west of where you will be, so that should not be an issue at all."

The line ends at the mosque in question, and a red "X" is drawn on it.

"Here is the target location. This is not the route you have to take, I am just drawing to show you the distance. We already discussed the mosque, and the location of the artifact. So now we will talk about extraction.

"At any point you can turn on the transponders we will provide you. They will also turn on at sunrise, 6 am, automatically, so we can find you in case you have run into trouble. If there is no trouble, move as far out of the city as possible before turning on the signal, or at least to the outskirts of the city. If you need emergency response inside the city, we can do that to, but be ready for unwanted attention. You will also be provided with smoke grenades as an emergency backup.

"The helo will have to return to Dubai to refuel after dropping you off at 7 pm, local time. Your travel to the city will take around five hours. That gives the helicopter more than enough time to refuel and return. With an hour to do the mission, and make your primary extraction, we plan to have the helo in standby around 1 am.

"In the unseen event that we cannot meet up, you have my cell number. We can arrange pick up where ever you go."
Kliko
13:24:39 Wednesday, 11 October 2062 (Japan/JST/India)

Kliko's mind raced forward as slotted the data cable in the provided tab effectively leeching it for any information before re-connecting the data-link with Ludmilla. Their transducers effectively creating a mind-link even her former agency would find hard to eavesdrop on.

At least they'd establish one thing, their backup getaway. It was a 180 clicks journey north to the Caspian sea. From thereon they could make arrangements to travel through Baku to Constantinopel and back home... Sure it was a long hike, but nobody said it would be a cake walk either. Besides it was about time they put Felix magical abilities to the test. Ludmilla could hike the distance unassisted if she refused the spirits help. 'She's probably more reluctant to travel former Soviet territories though.'

The mission itself would be somewhat more complicated. ‘A 19 mile hike during night time conditions ain’t no cake walk, at least with this crew.’ Looking at the map it was 8 mile down into the Tehran suburbs proper. The hike back to Seperh airstrip, an easy extraction point. Then the artefact itself. ‘Veil of Malik, some Magic, Schmagic item… best have V check those wards.’ By the looks of it they best obtain some wheels halfway or go in nice and slow, strike hard and move out fragging fast as lightning.
Kliko
[Double post]
SneakyJoeKDB
13:25:01 Wednesday, 11 October 2062 (Japan/JST/India)

Bubba opened a bag of Little Debbies Donuts and slowly inserted the small chocolate confections into his mouth one after the other. Bubba leaned forward to see the maps as they displayed on Ms. Johnson's tablet. 'Pictures I can do pictures!'. The mission seemed like an easy get in and get out, kind of boring if there is no one protecting the artifact; however, words from the first meeting kept coming back to Bubba, "Opposing Factions." The thought lead Bubba to crack a smile for he was certain he was going to get a chance to smash something afterall.

"Dos I gets to brings da heavy Klikos? Just say yes, I can hauls it, and sneaks with it... and wes can always hides it in our new haji clothes. Buts that shouldn't matters since dis city is ruled by who has da biggest gun. Let's just makes sures dats us"
Mister Juan
13:25:01 Wednesday, 11 October 2062 (Japan/JST/India)

Looking at the pictures laid across the table, Ludmila did the what she did best, after shooting people: she frowned. Her eyebrows got about as low as they could, and were almost touching each other. She flashed a quick glance toward Kliko, her eyes expressing her feelings a lot louder than her voice ever could. But then again, the regular members of the team knew all too feel that Ludi rarely felt thrilled about much. Bent forward, elbows on the table, she started going through the photos one by one.

The good thing was that the place was in complete shambles. That probably meant a lot of cover, nooks and crannies... but it also meant the place would be hard to navigate, even on foot. The local population was probably small enough not to really pose a problem, and the complete lack of government and authority also meant they could pretty much do as they pleased. That was unless the part of the city they found themselves in had some sort of local militia... Now that could be a problem.

As soon as he link what reestablished with Kliko, she found out he had come to the same conclusion as her, concerning their backup plan: the Caspian Sea. It was close enough; if they could lay their hands on a vehicle... Hiking it all the way there would be an whole other ball game. At least, if things went south real bad, they could probably find a boat and make their way towards Azerbaijan, Turkmenistan or, if they were really in deep trouble, Russia. Hopefully, it wouldn't come to that. Odds were, the FSB and GRU had her listed as AWOL, if not worst. She cursed herself for not having kept her old FSB ID badge; with it, she could have at least gotten them across the border.

She finished going through the pictures, pushed them off and leaned back into her chair.

“Well...” she began, somewhat uneasily.

She turned towards Miss Johnson.

“Do we know if the locals still use the mosque for worship? Also, if you've got a matrix connection, I'd like to use it to download a few datasofts.”
ntwi
13:26:31 Wednesday, 11 October 2062 (Japan/JST/India)

"Worst case scenario, I can handle creating the food for everyone, never got around to learning water though... I'm sure the two of you already have three different ways out, so I'll leave that to you and worry more about the city and mosque. I tend to see it in one of three ways, Number one: grab it early and hide/keep moving until dawn, Number two: Get there early and fort up in the mosque, or Number Three: Stake out the mosque from the outside and grab it just before exit time." Felix pauses for a second while he replays Ms. Johnson's words in his head. "It should be behind a tile in the main room? That could be a while of searching given the size of some mosques. If it was a catholic church it'd be up by the alter, but in a mosque? Any idea where important places are in a Mosque?"
Bastard
13:27:10 Wednesday, 11 October 2062 (Japan/JST/India) – Aboard private jet, Japan
21:27:10 Tuesday, 10 October 2062 (CFS/PST/Uniform)

As the discussion dies down, Miss Johnson answers the questions in order they were asked.

She looks to Ludi, "You can connect to my network. You should be able to find 'Miss J Network' and the password is 'raider', all lower case. The resurging corporate sector is looking to renovate the University, including the mosque, in the future, but as of now the University is only home to some squatters. There is a larger mosque nearby which draws a lot more religious type, but you never know in the Desert."

She turns to Felix, "As I understand, the entire prayer room is the most holy place, and that should be the main room. Since their faith prays facing Mecca, I would check the west wall first, though my information does not specify."

Kliko
14:37:06 Wednesday, 11 October 2062 (Japan/JST/India) – Cargo hold aboard private jet, Japan
22:37:06 Tuesday, 10 October 2062 (CFS/PST/Uniform)

Kliko had all figured out. 'Move in easy peasy slow, sneak in, raid the fraggin place and get the frag out'. They could easily afford walking around Teheran in full military gear claiming to be security contractors for some global operating NGO or Desert Wars prospectors if they found the city in ill repair. It really depended who they would run into and if they'd buy the bogus cover story.

"Bring the big guns Bubba... Just don't expect any sympathies from me when the weight of all those ammo belts starts wearing you down chummer. Listen chummers..." maintaining the suspense "I've got this all figured out.... we move in under a semi-plausible cover of security contractors working for one of these NGO's operating around town, or" ... "Desert war prospectors!" ... "We keep the civvie clothes for if things turn ape shit." ... "Its not the best of covers, but as long as it can safely gets us pas any obstructions we should be in the clear." ... "Oh, and the mojo-slingers among you dress up as well. In my time we generally geeked the guys not carrying Assault Rifles first. I don't give a frag's ass if you don't haul the ammo load or anything, just live up to the deception long enough to not get yourselves killed."

14:47:57 Wednesday, 11 October 2062 (Japan/JST/India) – Aboard private jet, somehwere between Japan and Dubai
It wouldn't be to long before they'd hit the Tarmac in Dubai. It was about time Kliko checked and double checked his kit. His original combat vest loaded for bear, now he found himself switching spare magazines and equipment pouches between his vest and the integrated webbing system.

The anxiety had been slowly building up across the team members as they methodically did their pre-op routines. Frag hell, Kliko would feel a hell of a lot better with his boots on the ground and his eyes on their mark. 'Who'd ever guess patience was the runners prerogative?'
Bastard
Miss Johnson had tried to answer all of their questions, though she refused to give them the name of her informant, or to take a ride on the "Big Bubba's Love Train."

What they had gained was it was going to be a long hike down to the city.

Other factions included archeologists, adventurers and treasure hunters, all probably armed but no match for a shadowrunner, let alone a team. The biggest threat would be from other possible run teams, though who would be financing them could be anyone's guess. The local factions should be the least of their worries, because even the more aggressive of them are just small bands, with no formal weapons training. For the most part, the people they would run into would be squatters left behind when the rest of the population vanished.

Felix had also pointed out that an abandoned city like Tehran was a haven for all sorts of unwanted awakened creatures, from devil rats to ghosts, and he wasn't talking about Casper. This was not good news for Ludi, who hated all spirits, even friendly ghosts.





Jaruen
14:52:02 Wednesday, 11 October 2062 (Japan/JST/India) – Aboard private jet, somehwere between Japan and Dubai

Knuckle Duster knows that there is a time and place for everything, and it was time to put away his paranoid suspicions, at least push them to the back of his mind, and put on his game face. Knowing that he would most likely be the advanced scout, if they needed one, and seeing that Kliko was getting his kit ready, Duster decided it was time to gear up into his camo-armor. He looked through the gear that Miss J provided, seeing if it was better than what he brought along, and then removed himself to the rear of the plane to change.
Bastard
16:56:10 Wednesday, 11 October 2062 (Iraq/IST/Delta) – Aboard private jet, Dubai, UAE
04:56:51 Wednesday, 11 October 2062 (CFS/PST/Uniform)

The plane touches down softly, waking the runners from their light slumber.

After getting the final details of the mission, the team prepped their gear. Packing water, food, extra clothes, electronic gear and extra ammo. Loads of extra ammo. Adjusted holsters and slings, checked sights and attachments, and did final inspections on weapons and gear.

Miss Johnson's staff served a bland, yet tasty, pasta dinner 90 minutes before landing. Everyone seemed to enjoy it, except Bubba, who pouted through all five of his servings.

"Lets go, lets go."
"Up and at 'em."
"Lock'n load, rock'n roll."

The plane was still taxiing down the runway and Kliko was already hopping through the cabin alerting the team. At the conference/dining table he found Ludi with her unlaced boots on the table, eyes closed, and cigarette burning between her lips.

"I don't think your supposed to smoke in here..."
"What? That suka gonna kick me off?"

She tossed the butt over her shoulder and in to the kitchenette sink behind her.

At the other end, Kliko found Felix standing at the stairwell door, ready to descend into the cargo hold. Before he could say a word, the young shaman shot him an I-don't-need-a-pep-talk-or-work-direction look, so the mercenary took up residency beside him.

Miss Johnson enters the cabin, and quickly directs the team back to what has become known as "the armory."

"Ladies and gentleman, it is time. I will be leaving shortly via limo to a corporate meeting. You guys will wait 30 minutes and load into a cargo van which will take you to the helicopter, not too far away. I hope to see you all first thing tomorrow morning."

Kliko
17:21:46 Wednesday, 11 October 2062 (Iraq/IST/Delta) – Aboard private jet, Dubai, UAE

'They're as ready as they'll ever be' With everything packed and ready to go, the crew found themselves killing time figuring out the mysterious ways of the late twentieth century card game Blackjack. Knuckle Duster was a fair sport, though Felix was the real winner beating the bank 7 out of 15 games. Their TLBV's were leaning against the hallway next to the door, weapons wrapped in the opened sealbags ms. Johson provided for the crew. Nobody had left the plane so far. 'Keeping up appearances I was only a matter of minutes before their pickup would arrive. In the back of his mind Kliko wandered what rotorcraft the J chartered for the occasion.

Bastard
17:22:10 Wednesday, 11 October 2062 (Iraq/IST/Delta) – Dubai International Airport, Dubai, Saud Caliphate
05:22:10 Wednesday, 11 October 2062 (CFS/PST/Uniform)

With smooth metallic purr, the rear cargo glides open and the ramp slowly lowers. Captain Burro stands at the bottom of the ramp next to a gray Dubai International Airport Baggage cargo van. The van is angled so the runners can exit the plane and enter the back or the side of the large vehicle while being blocked from view of the main terminal.

"Get in."

The team quickly gathers their gear and are exiting the cargo hold before the ramp has finished lowering. The van is cramped, but the drive is only a few minutes, where they find a large black helicopter.

"Make your buddy smile!" Kliko encourages them to cram in. With Bubba taking two seats, and Kliko taking more than his fair share of one, it is a bit crowded, with only ten seats, and there being an extra body with the crewman in the back, plus all the gear.


17:40:01 Wednesday, 11 October 2062 (Iraq/IST/Delta) – Over the Persian Gulf, aboard helicopter

The sky burns orange out the left side of the helicopter. The water below has turned from a calm deep blue to the fiery orange of the setting sun, cut with sharp black lines. To the right the daylight is quickly fading, stars speckling the sky at an exponential rate. Along the coast of Iran, few cities make their presence known with lighted skylines. Most are just a few dim yellow spots at ground level.
Bastard
19:25:01 Wednesday, 11 October 2062 – Drop Zone, 5 miles south of Tehran

Shortly after sunset the chopper cut east into the Iran mountain ranges, then followed a valley north for the next hour and half. Raising up out of the valley, the helicopter found a flat surface to put the chopper down, high in the mountains. The crew chief helps the runners disembark, and then disappears back into the valley.
Kliko
19:20:427 Wednesday, 11 October 2062 – Drop Zone, 5 miles south of Tehran

Kliko was practically hanging out of the door as the chopper circled the dropzone one more time. Squinting his eyelids the cybereyes within scanned the surroundings switching between thermographic and low-light vision mods for anything remotely resembling a threat to his op. When the chopper touched down Kliko rushed out the door 'First boots on the ground chummer!' moving some 10 metres before assuming a kneeling firing position. It was not until a minute after the chopper vanished in the night sky before he rounded his people up. "Aye, Kilo Delta, Sierra run point 100 meters ahead of us. We got a long and silent walk ahead of us... lets move out."
ntwi
19:26:01 Wednesday, 11 October 2062 – Drop Zone, 5 miles south of Tehran

As the sounds of the chopper fade down the valley, Felix reaches down and drags his fingers through the soil of the hillside, calling forth the spirit of the land to lend aid to his comrades. As the mana flows through his body, he asks the earth to lend its concealment and protection to his friends as it speeds their movement along its surface. With a mental word of thanks Felix turns his mind towards the tumultuous mountain air, feeling it blow across his face as he struggles with its impetuous nature before guiding it to his desires.

With a quick movement Felix extracts his ruthenium poncho from a side pocket on his pack as he drops into a seated position. There he centers himself before floating off the ground and draping the poncho over him, connecting the ends beneath himself as he floats just above the ground before floating a little higher to clear the scattered brush on the hillside. "Roger that K, have fun walking down there, I'll just float instead."
Bastard
19:26:01 Wednesday, 11 October 2062 – Drop Zone, 5 miles south of Tehran
Weather: Approximately 50-55 degrees Fahrenheit, partially cloudy, light gusts 5 mph NNE

The temperature has dropped significantly since boarding the helicopter in Dubai, due to two main factors: nightfall and altitude. The field jackets with liner are proving effective in keeping the team warm upon hitting the ground. Now it is a matter of not overheating on the move, or staying warm if the temperature continues to drop.

Felix and Knuckle Duster moves north to scout ahead. Looking over the maps, Kliko and Ludi find their position a half a click south of a cliff that overlooks the villages of Hamasin and Dehtorkaman, or what is left of them, which lies another two clicks north of the cliff.


SneakyJoeKDB
19:22:42 Wednesday, 11 October 2062 – Drop Zone, 5 miles south of Tehran


Bubba ducked low as he exited the chopper. 'I big, heli blades go chop chop!'. Kliko's tactical movement was enough to motivate Bubba into battle mode. Bubba took a kneeling position opposite of Kliko ensuring the teams safety from that side. Bubba checked the ammo box making sure it was set and the ammo belt was properly feeding the HMG. The thought that he might get to use the Stoner Ares HMG again was enough excitement to keep him focused. As Kliko barked out orders Bubba fell in line keeping his finger near the trigger of his Stoner Ares HMG and his eyes alert by scanning the area through thermo and normal.

Bubba listened as Felix began his summoning, 'That Mojo Mixer sure is handy wes gonna be downs there in no times' . Bubba thought magic was very cool, it was one of the few things his parents did for him during birthday parties that he remembered. These weren't little kid clowns they were full on mages dazzling the eyes and senses in every way. His mom and dad were not around much but they sure paid for everything Bubba ever wanted. Although the nanny's and butlers did most of the raising, Bubba had a good life with a silver spoon in his mouth right up until that time when he lost his humanity. Puberty for Bubba was a complete rejection by his parents, why did they hate him, why did they hate meta humans? Bubba's only friends and interactions were with humans. It wasn't until he was on his own did he interact with other metahumans.

After the goblinization was finished his mother looked at him with such disgust and rejection. His father seemed to tear up at the site of what Bubba had become. They didn't speak or come near him for three months. Then one day they invited Bubba on a trip to the woods for a game. Of course he went, what kid wouldn't, time with mom and dad, and here he thought they hated him? What parent sends their kid into the woods to play a game of find the donuts only to leave him stranded? Bubba found the donuts alright, but he never found his mother and father again. He was left, alone, and abandoned, a 13 year old newly turned troll who was used to being pampered and was now on his own. The only thing he had with him was that box of donuts. Which is the only thing to this day Bubba still finds comfort. He lived off them for three days until a park ranger found him. No ID, his parents names were no longer in the system, his home he grew up in abandoned. The State finally placed him in an orphanage, but that didn't last long, a used to being pampered and snotty rich kid was not well treated by the care takers nor liked by the other children. Bubba got into too many fights and was passed from orphanage to orphanage. Finally Bubba got a lucky break when JJ took him in. JJ said he knew Bubba's parents and that they instructed JJ to take care of him now and teach him the way. Bubba's parents must of felt some guilt for what they did but at least it gave Bubba a chance, but it was also the first step into his shadowy lifestyle.

As Felix wound down his chanting, Bubba pulled a Little Debbie's Donut out of his cargo pocket and started munching, a tear fell from his eye, but under the helmet visor no one could detect it.
Kliko
20:07:41 Wednesday, 11 October 2062 – Outskirts of Dehtorkaman, 5 miles south of Tehran
Weather: Approximately 50-55 degrees Fahrenheit, partially cloudy, light gusts 5 mph NNE

"Copy that Foxtrot, don't wander of to far. Critters love stragglers and there's little I can do when a Mountain Poema decides you're a great midnight snack."

Kliko guided them down the valley, past some sort of compound. Grateful Felix spirit powers fooled the dogs which would undoubtedly bark out their challenges alarming any living residents. They turned left upon a dirt track just after the compound. Eventually this would lead them along the northern outsirts of a settlement named Hamasin. From thereon it should be easy going following the road down to Tehran past New town Zeitoon and into some sort of recreational wooded area. 'At least the trees would provide some form of cover from prying Persian eyes from Tehran.'

For now Kliko was more concerned with the wind blowing their scent into the village. He would be happy if they'd made it on the road to Tehran using Felix spirits movement power to make some good time.
Mister Juan
20:07:41 Wednesday, 11 October 2062 – Outskirts of Dehtorkaman, 5 miles south of Tehran
Weather: Approximately 50-55 degrees Fahrenheit, partially cloudy, light gusts 5 mph NNE

During their entire airborne affair, Ludmila hadn't uttered a single word. Not that anyone knew her as a particularly talkative girl. Yet, her silence felt as if it held a little more than good old runner anxiety. Truth was, Ludmila didn't feel anxious as much as she felt... apprehensive. Last time she had been dressed in full combat gear, and in a chopper, had been on her way back from the Chinese border, riding with what little was left of her platoon.

Of the 34 men and women who had been with her, people she had spent 4 years with, seven had come back on the chopper, and two had died on the way. Ludi had gotten her cybereyes the following month, on the account that her right eye had been torn out of her face, after most of bone that made up that part of her face had been caved in. They had also given her a new spleen, a few screws in her right arm and leg and most of her inner ear had also been rebuilt. Between strands of jet black hair, she peered at Felix across the small cabin. Shamans. Mages. It was like riding around with nitroglycerine in your pack. The brass had told them the Chinese had used powerful magic to take control of the elemental that had been with her platoon; but it was all bullshit.

She had seen the Lieutenant, because they gave rank to anyone who could lift a pebble with their minds, loose his cool under fire. He had panicked, and in his haste to turn the tide, and simply tried to harness too much power. Fragile and feeble, whatever he had conjured up from the depths of the earth had turned right around and made a bloody carnage. Nothing she had seen, not even the years spent fighting the insurrection in Yakut had prepared her for this. It had been a massacre, and when the mountain of earth and stone had come for her, the very last thing she had thought before the massive fist swatted her like a fly was : so, this is how I die. Fortunately for her, she had pulled through and lived. She did miss her real eyes from time to time. They had looked much nicer than these synthetic imitations.

Finally, she had to push everything into that tiny lockbox she kept, somewhere deep in the back of her mind. She crammed the memories and nightmares there, and got herself focus. The helo had barely touched the ground that everyone was already out. Like a well oiled machine, every team member was out and took a slice of the field of fire pie. The collapsible stock of her AKS out and nestled in the crook of her shoulder, she scanned her sector. The Red Army had felt so distant; a lifetime away. But now, she didn't feel like a runner, or a spy anymore. Right now, Ludmila felt like a soldier again.

When Kliko finally gave the all clear to move out, she fell in line behind Kliko. Just far enough not to blow up with him if such a thing happened, but just close enough to hear him. As they walked on, Ludi felt strangely calm. The cold air in her lungs felt reassuring. The sting of the wind on her face gave her cheeks a rose colour, and forced her not to smile. The landscape could have been a little greener, but it still made her feel like she was back in Ural.
Bastard
20:15:33 Wednesday, 11 October 2062 – 1 km south of Dehtorkaman, 4 miles south of Tehran
Weather: Approximately 50-55 degrees Fahrenheit, partially cloudy, light gusts 5 mph NNE

The temperature continued its decline, but seemed to warm a little after descending the sharp rocky side of the mountain. It was steep difficult terrain following the trail down the mountain side. It looked like a well used trail, but it still contained a large quantity of large rocks of various sizes, from golf balls to bowling balls.

The quiet crunching of rocks stops as Kliko stops, holding a closed fist in the air. Most are familiar that this is the sign for halt, or at least see everyone else stopping, so they follow suit. All is quiet, except something cutting through the night air like nails on a chalkboard.

It is the two young ladies, V and Starling chatting it up about some boy band, and how they are not as cute as another boy band.

A harsh look from Kliko does not shut them up, but Ludi is able to quiet the two by raising her rifle in their faces. "Shut up."

Bubba voices echos from the rear, "Thank yous!"

The team stands 200 km south of the village of Dehtorkaman, concealed by the night's darkness. There a few electric lights that still light a few stone and wood buildings in the village. Every so often the voices of various livestock carry from the village to the shadowrunners standing on the dirt trail at the bottom of the mountain.


20:30:00 Wednesday, 11 October 2062 – 1 km south of Dehtorkaman, 4 miles south of Tehran

The trail clears up a bit as it moves deeper into the valley and out of the shadow of the mountain. It carries the team along the southern outskirts of the villages, then sweeps them north.

The village continues to stir up unwanted memories in Ludi. Memories of military horror, innocent villagers caught in the crossfire of warring nations and megacorporate powers. Magic and technology from the 21st century, ripping through lands of peoples still living in the 19th century. Civilians pulverized under the foot of imperialistic nations and greedy corporations, two interchangeable evils of the modern world. Then again, without them, would she have the SmartLink accuracy and fine-tuned dependability of a firearm like her AKS-74U? Ludi glanced down at her trustworthy rifle with a grimace. Would we even need a fine weapon like this, if it weren't for the megacorps and governments? She shrugged with the thought, better to have it and not need it, than need it and not have it, her finger caressing the trigger, her thumb the safety selector.

Kliko shared some of these memories, but from a different time and place, and with different reactions. Where Ludi and others may have seen darkness, familiar feelings of conquest stir within his chest. Some only remember the evilness of war, but on the battlefront Kliko had reached the thing all men deep inside strive for: success. Men had always strove for that same feeling, which seemed to exist outside of combat athletes and the cut throat business world. Camaraderie, team, adversity, success and self worth. Kliko, now readjusting his rifle but in the pocket of his shoulder, had found illegal ways to keep this drive alive. In his subconscious, he was seeing battle plans of overtaking this village.

Away from all that is familiar, alone in the desert, no donut shop within hundreds, if not thousands of miles, left Bubba feeling abandoned. Again. Having Kliko lead the way comforted his deep fears almost completely. As long as he was around, Bubba knew there was someone to get him out of any trouble that arouse, but what would happen if Kliko died? Bubba started to fear the worst. He scanned the team ahead of him. He didn't know what to think about V and Starling. These were the two people he knew he couldn't follow, and the only two people in the world that he trusted his own instincts over. Dead weight, he thought. Hope they can add something when the drek hits the fan, but he doubted it, and his nerves continued to rattle. He always had Ludi, but if Kliko went down, would she lead the team or go it alone? She definitely the loner wolf, Bubba was sure of it. He thought he had better make himself valuable, but he really didn't know how. Bubba had known Knuckle Duster longer than anyone else on the team, but would he just disappear again? While he was intrigued and in awe of Duster's jedi-like powers and abilities, he was not sure if he could follow him. Felix! In an instant, he knew who would be his friend in a crisis. The realization hit him in the head like a bag of flour (which he knew from donut shop experience, can be quite a sudden jolt), Magies always need muscles to protects dem! His nerves started to settle at the thought that there was at least one other person who would get him out of here if need be. A tusked smile started to grow until he had this thought, What if Felix gots fragged, too? He gripped his Stoner-Ares M-107, Me always gots dis, his smile fading.

Knuckle Duster was leading the way, when he came to the realization of, why is the guy without a gun taking point? It is his own damn fault for never learning to get comfortable with the things. All those street sams that had given him drek for only carrying a taser and a tomahawk over the years, might be proven right. Having a real mage nearby comforted him a bit, but then he thought, What the frag, I am just as good as these guys...aren't I?

Felix levitated a little behind Duster, keeping his eye on the village, not having to worry about watching the ground for rocks. He started going through his repertoire of spells in his mind. He found himself going over the more violent spells, and how to use other spells in a violent manner. He paused in midair as he realized, his aggression growing. Was something wrong with the area, or something wrong with him? He prepared to launch an attack as he scanned the astral plane, but it came back clean. Maybe it was just being this far out in no-man's-land with a barely breathing village to his left, knowing that a dead city was over the next ridge. It was eerie to think about a city that once housed over 10 million people, now a ghost town. That was it. That was the name of the uneasiness that was on his mind. Ghosts. No problem, he thought with a sinister smile.


20:42:09 Wednesday, 11 October 2062 – 250 meters south of Dehtorkaman, 4 miles south of Tehran
Weather: Approximately 50 degrees Fahrenheit, partially cloudy, light gusts 5-8 mph NNE

Felix and Duster held up where the trail started to widen. Straight ahead would bring them to the eastern border road of Dehtorkaman. Or they could take the trail east down to a ravine deer, or goat, trail, which should bring them back to the main road. Kliko joined them, to discuss the route. The three of them noticed that each of them looked drained, but not physically exhausted. A burst of vocals from some chickens in the nearby village broke the steady activity that had been constant before.

"This fraggin place gives me the creeps," Duster said, gripping his tomahawk.
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