@ Sharpe,

"Belive it or not," replys Zoes cool voice, "I don't expect any opposition. The transfer of the 'package' is of no interest but to my client. I know," she cuts you off before you can laugh at the absurdity, "but the package could be flown legally if the client wished, he just want's to play covert ops with his money, and I am obliged to let him. I would have sent the package on Amtrak if this opportunity hadn't presented itself. I want you along because the border crossing could get dangerous, and yes you will be going over land in a Bison I think. And yes, I will provide all the ID/passes and appropriate permits."

"Our appointment with Zoe is 0900 tomorrow morning, which leaves us some time to kill. If you don't need anything, and have nowhere in particular you desire to go, I suggest we dump this body and then retire to Reno's so we can get something to eat."

Grendel relays the information from his fixer to Delacroix.

"You dont think we can sell or donate the body to science?" Delacroix looks at the mangled body of the Vampire and the thought of food makes his stomach sick. "I'm not hungry but i'll tag along with you to Reno's."

"I would have liked to have gained some profit from it, but Zoe appears to be unable to put me in touch with the appropriate personnel. And I lack any contacts that deal in magical type items myself. With no further avenues open to me, I suggest the next best thing, disposal. If you have anyone who might be of help, though, we do have about ten hours before we're supposed to meet with Zoe."

Grendels phone beeps as a voicemail is dumped into it's memory. "Grendel," Zoe's cool voice echoes in his ears. "I think I have everything your going to need for the trip, including the passes into CalFree. 0900 tomorrow morning, heres the address," Zoe rattles of a number, you recognize it as being about a half mile south of the SeaDog stadium. "It's a warehouse, so pull up in the back at the loading dock, I'll meet you there. One more thing, it's not that I don't trust you, but I have some talent going with the package. Will talk live tomorrow, see you there."

"Very well, I'll call a friend." Delacroix gives a ring to a fixer friend of his Harry. The elf gets the classy dwarfs answering machine, no doubt he's out wineing and dineing with all the cash he makes. "Harry this is Delacroix. Listen I have a dead vampire located at (Delacroix gives him the street address). You or anyone you know is welcome to it on the grounds that I learn anything you or your associates learn from it. If your not interested no biggie, let it rot."

The last words sound cold and harsh. Delacroix still didn't view himself as a Vampire. Eventually the elf would have to come to grips with the disease.

Blackjack comes back from the electronic world and phones Grendel. She informs him that he and Delacroix now have temporary passes to their destination that are good for two weeks. Their cover is that they are travelling off-road.

"...I e-mailed them to you so you can print them out. You should be recieving an e-mail from the server any minute now. Good luck, you two!" says Blackjack.

"Thanks again. That all works for me. I'm definitely not going to complain if it's a milk run. I'll catch up with you at the meet tomorrow."

Sharpe disconnects the call, then turns his attention to the remainder of his equipment. The leather shoulder bag gets emptied and repacked, the gear checked and inventoried as he did with the backpack's contents. Several small items disappear into the various pockets of either the warrior's worn leather jacket or his urban camouflage pants.

He saves his usual weapons till last, taking his time in cleaning and maintaining the pistols as his mind runs over and over what little he knows about the upcoming job.

"Your speed is much appreciated, BlackJack. I'll call you when we arrive with any necessary feedback. Watch your six."

Grendel opens up his interface to the Bison's onboard computer and sends the attached passes to the printer.

"Well, we're across the border now. All that's left is to pick-up the package and gear from Zoe and we can get on the road."

"Wiz! How much do I owe you?"

"Nothing yet, we'll subtract all expenses from profits on the back-end of the trip before splitting up the proceeds."

Grendel noses the Bison into the parking lot behind Reno's. Shifting his network operations to remote, he double checks all interlocks green across the board. He takes one last sweep through the sensors before stepping outside and heading towards the front door of the bar.

Blackjack replies, "Alright. You too. Bye!" and hangs up the phone.

PM me if you need Blackjack again.

Delacroix steps out of the Bison second, following the rigger closely to the front door of the club.

The parking lot of the Bar is averegly busy for this time of night. Light and noise fromt the bar spills out into the streets when the door opens. A few drunks stumble out wearing uniforms of the UCAS Navy.

Morning comes to the Emerald city and with it a hint of snowfall. The forecast is vague to the point of useless. Chance of rain, chance of snow, chance of sunshine. The cold crisp air carries bight as the bright sun rises over the cascades. Dark shadows stretch out into the bay, obscuring th elarge boats that are mored there.

Up since 0500 ensuring everything was prepared for the upcoming trip, Grendel knocks on Delacroix's door at 0815.

"We're rolling in 15 minutes, you ready?"

The elf answers the door fully dressed. "Yes i'm ready." Getting a good look at the mage, its not hard to tell that he didn't sleep a wink last night. Most nights, sleep is hard to come by. ...but tonight was the eve of possibly finding a cure, or realizeing his true fate. Either way the elf was begining to come to terms about what he may have to do.

Having finished tending to his gear, Sharpe double checks all the nooks and crannies of the small hotel room while waiting for the alloted time for the water to be turned on in this region. As soon as it is, he grabs a quick shower, then pulls on his camo fatigue pants and an old sleeveless Shield Wall concert t-shirt. After shrugging into his shoulder holster and armored leather jacket, he throws his backpack and shoulder bag on before picking up the two metallic cases and heading out the door.

A quick glance at his watch shows that he still has a few hours to kill before the scheduled meet, so after checking out he flags down a passing taxi and heads towards the docks. Once there he finds a small, dingy all-hours diner located reasonably close to the area where the warehouse is located.

Several plates of somewhat tasteless food later, he relaxes with a steaming mug of soycaf as he watches the trickle of traffic pass by, half obscured by the restaurant's grimy window, while he waits for the appointed time to arrive.

The LED readout in the lower corner of Grendel's vision reads 0850:00 as he noses the bison into the driveway of Zoe's warehouse. In response to his two honks, the garage door scrolls up, revealing the vast cluttered interior. The bison disappears inside. Grendel waits for the door to close before shutting down and exiting the vehicle, the list of his requested gear occupying a side window in his view.

Sharpe slaps on a patch of Long Haul before slotting his credstick to pay the bill, adding a small amount to cover the inconvenience of his spending most of the night downing soycaf and looking out it's window. Slipping on his 'shades, he gathers his equipment and joins the post-dawn bustle of the docks. The big warrior makes his way towards the meeting, arriving just in time to see a Ford Bison disappear into the warehouse.

The first thing that strikes Grendel as odd about the warehouse is it's complete lack of an interior. The vast room sits completely unused, with the exception of a large pallet of equipment. A quick visual scan of the pallet reveals all the asked for equipment. The next odd thing is Zoe, not Zoe herself, but the ten or eleven year old girl standing next to her. Zoe smiles as the vehicle comes in and waits patiently for the stoic elf to come out.

The faint surprise he feels upon seeing the girl does not register on his face, and after a cursory examination of the gear, he turns to Zoe. The rear cargo doors on the Bison open in response to a silent command.

"How much do I owe you?"

"Minus what I would have payed you for the run, and these," she hands over a small envelope, passports and ID along with passes into CALfree are clearly visible. "5K total, I got a good deal." Zoe waves a hand at the girl. She is small, and probably around ten years old. Her face is delicate, and smooth, her ears end in a fine point. Though her eyes have an almond shape more common to asians then caucasians. "Grendel, this is Miri. She doesn't speak. Ever. Don't know why." The girl smiles up at the big rigger. She has an aura of innocence about her. "I have a guy going with her, he should be here any minute."

Delacroix eyes dart to Grendels head. With his eyes he peers into the mind of the Rigger. Once inside he ties a line of thought and conciousness to his brain and ties the other end to his.

"Noone said anything about the package being a little girl!," The words have an erie echo as they are heard inside Grendels head.

Delacroix sustains the conduit to hear the thoughts of Grendel after his statement.

The gentle caress of the mage's thoughts cause the hair on the back of his neck to stand up, and he stops his right hand after a momentary twitch towards the weapon holstered at his side.

She didn't specify what the nature of the package was at all. The fact that it's a child will add only marginally to the difficulty of our trip.

Grendel did not add that she reminded him of his sister, nor that she inspired an even greater self-loathing than he usually carried. He traded a 5K certified credstick for the envelope in Zoe's hand, and turned to the pallet of gear. The heavy drum of diesel fuel is strapped into a cradle designed specifically to hold it, while the oil and lubricants go into a special ventilated locker. The spare parts are stowed in a hard case beneath one of the bench seats. The three water jugs disappear into a small cabinet in the hab section of the bison, along with the case of energy bars and ration packets. One of the cases of soda goes into the small refridgerator, while the other one sits in a small bracket mounted to the rigger's command couch. The rest of the cold weather survival gear disappears into one of the gray utility lockers, while the camo netting is slung from overhead tiedown points. The claymores and det cord are stored in an impact resistant case marked "Flammable - no smoking within 20m". He sets aside the two bandoleers of grenades for later, and checks the MAAWs for security and operation. Satisfied, he stows them safely in the heavy weapons locker. Each of the Trapdoor mines is checked and allowed to run through its power-up and self-check. Grendel takes the time now to program the Bison as a friendly surface unit in the smart mine's onboard targeting computer. The three soccer ball sized mines are strapped into the base of the munitions locker as well. For the time being, he leaves the Microskimmers and the Sentry IIs in their shipping crates. The upcoming trip would offer enough time for the work that would be required to add them into his network.

Complete with the loading, Grendel opens up his pocket secretary and downloads the route data from the Bison's computer. Rather than giving the brief twice, though, he waits for Zoe's additional personnel to arrive.

With a thought the spell fizzles away, noone aware of the conversation between the two elves. Delacroix approaches the young girl, and kneels down on 1 knee.

"Hello Miri, my name is Delacroix. Are you excited about this trip?" The elf smiles at her and extends his hand towards her.

A rusted hinge squeaks gratingly as the warehouse door opens to admit the large Amerindian. The human spends almost no time framed in the doorway, instead flitting quickly to the right with an unnatural, almost animal-like gracefulness while letting the door close on it's own behind him.

A large, well-traveled army issue backpack hangs loosely by one strap from his wide shoulders, an assortment of outdoor gear secured to the exterior. From the same shoulder, his left, hangs a smaller fringed leather bag, almost purse-like in appearance, at least at first glance. His big left hand grips the handles of two metallic cases, one noticeably longer than the other, while his right hand remains conspicuously empty, hovering near the open front of his worn leather jacket.

Behind the mirrored shades, his eyes take in the scene inside the warehouse, the pieces falling rapidly in place in his mind as he registers the other people present. Advancing, he ignores the two elves for the moment, instead after placing his gear near the rear of the Bison, he approaches the glamorous fixer. Removing his shades, he cast a quick, sidelong glance at the young girl before turning his attention back to Zoe.

"I knew there'd be more to this than you were letting on."

The half-breed pauses, his strange turquoise eyes roaming over the warehouse's interior, taking in the two elves as he surveys the area with both cybernetically-enhanced eyes and Astral vision. A slight smile momentarily flits across his face as his gaze returns to the fixer.

"But then again, there always is, isn't there? 'Tis good t'see you again Zoe."

Grendel waits patiently for his fixer to make the introductions, bearing the scrutiny of the newcomer with indifference. He, himself, had already taken the human under surveillance with the Condor. That file would be archived and indexed with the visual observations the bulky elf now annotated.

At least it's not another fragging elf.

Zoe's lips seem to twitch ever so slightly, as if she is suppressing a smile. "Opsec Hunter, you know how it goes," she says in her stoic tone. "Sharpe, this is Grendel and Delacroix, they will be the transportation, your the security for her..."

The girls eyes go big when Delacroix leans down, she backs up just a little and crowds in on Zoe. After Delacroix doesn't try to eat her she tentatively holds her hand out to his and nods her head in response.

"So as I was saying, you stay with the package, even after these guys drop it off. Make sure this person," she hands over a datachip, "picks it up, and no one else. Soka?"

Grendel nods in response to Zoe's introduction, pivoting slightly to include the tall Amerind in the briefing. The small screen of the pocket secretary shows a topographical map that scrolls in time to his words.

"We're going to follow a route called The Big Dance with some modifications. Idaho Falls is our first stop, from there we'll turn southwest through Ute territory until we hit Reno, then further south for the run down the central valley to Sacramento. It's going to be rough running this time of year, but as long as we don't hit any severe weather we should be all right. I have cold weather survival gear for us, and enough rations to last. We'll supplement as necessary at the stops along the way. Here are your border passes. Don't lose them. Unless briefed otherwise, expect Delacroix to do all of our talking for us. Are you equipped for radio communication?"

This last question he addresses solely to Sharpe. When the tall Amerind nods in reply, he supplies him with the team's operating and back-up frequencies before matching encryption algorithms.

"Hey Miri, what do you say we get in the van and get to the front seat before anyone else?!" ,says the elf with as much enthusiasm as possible. "Have you ever been on a road trip before?", continues the elf. "They are so much fun, and my buddy Grendel and Sharpe are always lots of fun on long trips. Its gonna be wiz!"

Delacroix shoots a smirk at Grendel, one of those facial expresions that conveys an entire sentence in just a simple look.

Miri happily climbs into the RV with a backward glance at Zoe. The blond fixer nods in the girls direction encouragingly. "You need anything else boys? Or can I leave?"

"I think we're good to go. I'll give you a call as soon as we get to Sacramento."

Grendel powers down his pocket secretary and climbs back into the command couch, strapping in and jacking back into the network.

Delacroix sits in the front seat with Miri on his lap. The elf attempts to win her trust thru the warmth and love commonly seen with family and friends.

Grendel's voice reaches out over the speakers built in to the headrests of the front seat.

"It might be safer for her to ride in an actual seat. Just in case we have to do any quick maneuvering. The hab section is reasonably child-proof, but don't let her back into the utility bay."

Zoe waves to the big elf as he climbs aboard the Bison, "take care of yourself Grendel," she says quietly. With a nod to Sharpe she heads for the door, pulling a quick fade into the shadows...

(Acting for Fortune)

Sharpe climbs aboard as well. He finds a good spot to stow his gear, and then makes himself comfortable. He carefully examines the inside of the vehicle, learning every square inch of it.

Little ceremony is involved with the departure from the warehouse. The Condor disappears from its overhead orbit, proceeding outbound towards the border along the same route the Bison will travel minutes later. Grendel turns the heavy vehicle inside the warehouse rather than backing out, waiting until the garage door is fully up before accelerating into the midday rain. The network protocols were already set: transmissions, encryptions, displays, and preprogrammed commands stored and indexed. All that remained was the vicious decision tree of execution. The bulky elf passed the plastic flimsy sheets provided by BlackJack to Delacroix.

"We'll be at the border in fifteen minutes. Act casual. Just don't look like you're acting casual."

Thirteen minutes thirty seconds later, the Bison noses down an offramp from the interstate less than a kilometer from the border. Turning onto the frontage road, the heavy van pulls into the parking lot of an abandoned dry cleaning plant. The right rear drone rack swings open, faired nacelle doors unlocking to reveal the launch and storage cradle. The Condor drone drops lazily from the sky, guided by both its onboard pilot and the optical nav beacons built into the Bison. The SHAPELY drone hovers over the rack for a moment, finalising its alignment, before dropping the last thirty centimeters into the cushioned cradle. Restraint arms lock onto purpose built grommets on the drone's skin, and the cradle retracts back into the body of the Bison. Grendel completes the power down of the drone before accelerating back onto the interstate towards the border checkpoint. Thirty seconds have elapsed.

"Sure no problem."

The drive to the border goes without incident, though the weather is beginning to turn sour. The dark sky had been threatening rain since the sun came up, now it is delivering on it's promise. A deluge of water falls from the clouds washing everything in a stinging acidic bath of polluted water.

Traffic is light at the border, early morning and the middle of the week are not heavy traffic times. The guard post is manned with an internal guard, and an external one to check pases. The external guard looks miserable out in the rain. His thick smoky-the-bear hat is lined with a rain slick which showers the water down on his bright yellow trench coat. As the bison pulls up he waves it forward with a high powered flash light. Barely looking up he queries the license plate on the front of the big truck. Grendels plates hold true showing no warrants or apb's. "Welcome to Salish-shide, can I see your passes and ID please?"

"Certainly," remarks the elf.

Delacroix searches for this pass and fishes out his ID, presenting both to the border guard.

The guard takes the passes and id's. He only gives the ID a cursory glance before handing it back to the elf. He runs the passes through his computer, confident that the device would root out any deception. He nods, removes the passes from the slot and hands them back. "Have a nice stay," he grumbles and waves the Bison on.

Grendel accelerates away from the border checkpoint, waiting until the Bison is several kilometers down the road before launching the Condor again. A silent thought brings the topographical display to the forefront, the green countour lines overlain with more conventional map symbols. The route was already loaded, GPS waypoints pulsing at a one second frequency. Thirty kilometers more and the Bison turns off the primary interstate onto a secondary, two lane highway. While unable to maintain the high speeds on this smaller road, they would suffer much less scrutiny from the security forces.

"We should be all right until we get closer to Idaho Falls. Settle in, lady and gentlemen, this is the boring part."

The hours pass slowly as the big RV makes it's way east and south on the secondary road. The constant growl of the engine along with the shaking of the vehicle combined to make a hum that lulls senses into sleep. It doesn't take Miri long to find a spot to curl up on, just behind Grendel's command couch. The snow that has been threatening to fall since the team left Seattle now stars to come in gentle flakes. At first it falls slowly, but it gaines momentum the closer to the mountains the Bison gets.

Grendel adjusts the environmental controls to keep the cabin at a comfortable temperature for his passengers. Although his body did not hold heat as well as a human's, his synthetic enhancements gave off enough excess thermal energy to keep him warm on these long trips. Noting the drop in temperature, though, he brings the Condor's command interface live and activates the engine anti-ice system on its twin ducted fan turbines. The Bison needed little modification to its running profile, already equipped to handle all but the worst environmental conditions.

Delacroix looks at the sleeping young girl. "Why do you think she doesn't talk?," says Delacroix.

"Probably because she doesn't have anything to say." Grendel's voice, though emotionless, sounds unusually subdued. "Why don't you use that special vision of yours and find out?"

The elf laughs and looks at Miri, "I was thinking about that, but thought you'd have something against it." The elfs face releases a devilish smile. "I'll try and communicate with her when she wakes up."

As if on cue the girl looks up, a sleepy haze over her face, she see's the two elves and smiles then stretches. She opens her backpack and takes out some paper and pencils, you notice she has several notebooks of sketching paper. She sits besides Grendel and begins to sketch.

"I only have problems when you invade my privacy. Everyone else is fair game."

Grendel's statement carries no duplicity, merely the hard-bought knowledge that even the barest scrap of information could mean the difference between life and death in the shadows.