While sitting casually on the deck, Belfast just watches the patrol boat wander by. Despite being under Sejal protection, he waits until its definitely out of earshot before singing an off-key and Irish cover of Sinatra's Luck Be a Lady Tonight. Not knowing half the words, naturally, most of it is just hummed anyway.

The gridguide transponder is deactivated. After finding a nice secluded spot on the beach, Thor activates the enviroseal and air tanks, and gently nudges the van into the water. Driving along the bottom of the bay, he heads for a secluded beach outside Vancouver. As soon as the van is safely under the water, he switches the photovoltaic chameleon paint to a dark green and blue camoflague pattern, and has his morphing liscense plate change to a Vancouver plate.

Thor turns on the van's trideo unit and starts playing an obscure low-budget action flick for his passengers to watch. "We may be under water for as long as 10 hours. Hope you all used the restroom, and don't drink anything."

Paris smirks, takes his kit back out, and cleans and tunes his sniper rifle. He somewhat scoffingly watches the movie, but he's got a half grin on his face again, and stops what he's doing to watch every time something good happens on the trid.

You hear a light snoring sound coming from Brand's direction.

The patrol boat came close. Too close for Raven’s taste. It was obvious at a hundred meters that the patrol wasn't coming at them. Good thing, too. She didn’t think anyone here had a real SIN to fall back on, or enough money to bribe their way out. Just in case though, she slipped her Five-seveN out of the holster and held it discreetly at her side.

When the boat pasted harmlessly by, she slid the long barreled pistol back into the nylon holster. When the patrol finally vanished on the horizon she let out a breath.

“Well, that was certainly close. Hey, Sed. Let’s get this bad boy back up to speed and get where we're going, soka? Gonna die of old age before we get there.”

Raven grabbed both of the stair rails. She propped her boots up and slid quickly to the bottom, landing with a thump.

”I’m gonna get some sack time,” she said to Irishman. “Wake me when we get there, or sooner if need be.”

She tossed her hair and ducked down into the cabin, muttering under her breath. “Damn sea air, it’s going to kill my guns.”

After having replaced his weapons in their various carrying places, and cleaning up his kit, Paris sits back a bit and reviews his plans for the mission so far. A while later, still having time to kill, he moves over and sits next to Evans.

Good a time as any to get to know the medic.

"Hi. If you don't mind me asking, what did you mean by spray weapons? What exactly have you got available?" He asks quietly, being careful not to wake Brand.

Evans had been sitting quitely in a shady corner of the vehicle, away from Brand so that he wouldn't wake her up. His assault rifle lay beside him, and he was in the process of sorting through his medkit supplies when Paris walked over. Evans smiles slightly, in greeting, as he approaches, and lays down the medkit by his side. New groups never suited him well, always the more flamboyant would get noticed. In his experience it was best to just shut up and duck down until somebody got hurt.

Paris was walking over. Don't tell me somebody was injured already?

"Spray w- Oh. Well, think flamethrowers. Brought one along since Fredrick mentioned something about bugs, but it seems my fears were unfounded."

Evans pulls out the compact Shiawase Blazer from under his overcoat and handed the SMG-sized flamethrower to Paris.

"Careful with that. It's a sturdy little piece of hardware, but it's still flammable. Bit of a liability if it's not needed, but you never know, aye? Besides that...well, that's about it. I'm sure whatever else I can shoot someone else can do too."

"Hmm" says Paris, considering. "Somehow I didn't take his little warning that way. You never know though, you may be right." After a short inspection, he hands back the flamer. "I wasn't sure when you said spray weapons, thought it might be some medic drug deal."

After a bit, he asks "so where were you trained? Medically, I mean."

"DocWagon HTR unit. Not very many places else you can get good experience in the field, or so I hear. What about you, if you don't mind me asking? Where does one get training as a special ops accountant?" Evans smirks.

Paris grins. "Well said. I was studying macroeconomics, but got found out there was more money in this sort of number." He takes his slivergun out for a moment and twirls it. "Got tapped for it, too, the found I had an aptitude. 'Moral Flexibility' I think was the line. Charming. Rest is history." The slivergun disappears into his shoulder holster. "But if all goes poorly, I can always fall back as a wage slave." A half grin appears a moment on Paris's face, with a quiet exhalation of air that is his usual laugh. "Don't mind me being so nosey, but one of the things they told us was to always know your medic. Better learn a thing or two about him before he's opening up your guts, you know? Too many guys just ignore the less flashy types, medics and riggers, and then have no idea who's got their back in the end." He smirks.

Evans gives a somewhat consoling smile and pats Paris on the back.

"Well, thanks for giving a damn. I need to sort my medical and rifle kits a bit more though, so let me know if you need anything else."

Paris nods, moves back over near his equipment, and lies down for a nap.

Skeeter had long since stowed his fishing gear, failing to get even a nibble in over an hour of drowning worms. He watched, fascinated as the corvette heading their way had magically turned into a smaller craft and went skimming on past them. It had taken a lot of self control not to call out to see if anyone else had seen the transformation. They'd probably just tell him he was imagining things, so Skeeter kept his mouth shut.

He went to the bow and supressed the urge to make a grand proclamation like he was king of the hill. Skeeter wished he had brought some stones with him to skip across the surface of the water.

He wondered if Sedryk would like some company as he piloted the boat or if he might as well take a little nap. Skeeter decided to offer to get him a cup of soycaf from a thermos he had seen. If he seemed to want some company, he'd visit. If not, he'd nap.

The section of Snohomish where the meet was held is one of hte most rural parts of the Seattle 'plex, but it doesn't compare to the verdant hillsides which stretch away along the sides of Vancouver Island. The stories about how the SSC has vast tracts of woodlands might seem strange to a dedicated city dweller, but here it is obvious In the night, the boat team made their way up the coastline to a previously selected rivulet.

Here and there along the coastline, the winking lights log small communities could just be seen. Past the edges of the Vancouver sprawl, most of the lights were small fishing villages. While rumors held that many, if not all, of those communities also smugglers, logging operations, or both, the darkness made it impossible to tell. The only indication at all was the number of boats moored at the docks of each little town.

Before the sun could rise, the team made their way inland a half kilometer or so to a small natural lagoon. The water was only a couple of meters deep, but the broad, shallow basin marked the last navigable point on the waterway. The team disembarked and managed to get the boat into a safe harbor away from prying eyes shortly before the sun rose.

Meanwhile, farther away, the van forged out of the sea and onto the roadway. Using GPS and the coordinates that the Johnson provided, Thor was able to locate the equipment cache with little trouble shortly after midnight. Hidden under camo netting, there are five large crates. One contains breathing gear suitable for mine exploration, one contains a number of small drones, two contain the components of the driller, and the last contains the base stations for the drones. It doesn't prove hard to get them all into the van, though it would be difficult to fit the entire team inside with them.

Vancouver. At one time the island was populated and thriving. Now, to Raven’s eyes, it was a wasteland. Tree’s were great and all, but not if no one could see them.

She leaned against the side of the boat, pulling her coat close around her to fight off the chill. Her enhanced vision zeroed in on the lights. The Nav-Dat in her head marked them on the GPS map she was building.

They probably hate living here. Hate it as much as I hated living in the Tir.

When the boat coasted a shore, Raven got to work. She dug out her duffle and changed her clothes. She made sure she had some privacy before changing into her cammo outfit and boots. Once in her working gear, she strapped on her thigh holster for her main pistol. She secured four magazines along her belt, and dropped another two in the camouflaged secure coats deep pockets.

Next she un-packed the Walther, carefully putting it all together. Once it was ready, she loaded a 10 round mag of APDS into it. She used the sling to secure the long sniper rifle to her back, barrel down.

When everything was ready she freed her bike. She stashed another five mags for her pistol, and five for her rifle, along with her spare pistol, in the seat compartment. She moved the light dirt bike of the deck and on to the soggy ground.

“I am on,” she glanced down to the radio at her belt, “137.5,,” she said as she clipped the sub dermal to her throat.

“I figured I would go scout ahead, make sure the mine was free and see about a path. Any objections,” she stated as she fired up the electric motor of the Opel.

Not having much to unpack from the boat, Belfast basically just helps out where he can. When Raven mentions that she's going to scout out the mine, he decides to pipe up.

"Sounds good. Mind if I tag along? Might help to have some ethereal eyes checking out the mojo of the place for anything out of the ordinary, if you know what I mean."

"Sure, an extra pair of eyes never hurt. The Opel isn't really a two seater so hang on tight."

"Oh, twist my arm."

Kicking a leg over the back of the Opel, Belfast turns to address his familiar just as it materializes on his shoulder. The leprechaun looks as if he were just waking up from a nap as his body finished creating itself.

"Wot wot wot," Red Tom mutters as he rubs his eyes a bit. "I was just gettin' to a good part, ya wee bastard. I hope it's feckin' important..."

Bel simply rolls his eyes. "I'm going to scout ahead with the Ke... with Raven but I want you and Elizabeth to stick around and keep an eye on my friends here in case they need any help. Remember the talk last time -- try to at least be a little civil with them, a'right?"

The leprechaun waves a dismissive hand at his master. "Yes yes, run off with your little friend and I'll babysit these wankers and Little Miss Muffit. Feh. I'll be lettin' ya know if anything comes up. Now get." He continues with the dismissive gesture as he adds a bit of cursing under his breath, something along the lines of always bossing him around or some such. It only causes Bel to smile lightly as he wraps his hands around Raven's hips.

"I'm ready when you are, lass."

"Watch the hands," she replies. Her right hand lets the clutch go as she stomps on the gas with her booted foot. eerily silent the Opel's back tire spins out spitting gravel and dirt. Once the tire gets a grip the bike takes off.

Thor drives along the bottom of the bay to the southern tip of the island. Upon nearing it, he heads west along the coastal shelf, heading towards the area along the coast nearest the target zone. He keeps the van at a level where the water is about 25 meters deep; shallow enough that he can quickly get to shore, but deep enough that no boats will run into the van. Once the van has been under water for 9 hours, Thor starts watching for a nice flat beach, and checking the maps for secluded surfacing areas. He brings the van closer to shore, to a depth of 15 meters, in order to allow himself a better visual.

Sedryk looked as the cup of coffee that Skeeter was offering. "Thanks, say could you go down below and grab my bags, gotta get ready for when we break land?"

After Skeeter returns with the bags, Sedryk begins assembling his harness and checking his weapons. Seeing that Skeeter wasn't packing any ammo, he made sure not to offer him any guns. Someone must not want him to play with them.

Once the boat was anchored, Sedryk cursed himself for not having camo netting for it. Note to self, get camo netting and a small rubber raft. And take scuba lessons. Before the sun rises Sedryk beings digging a shelter for himself. Looking over at Red Tom, "Say care to whip up some mojo to help with this?"

Red Tom was just about to find a nice tree to lounge under when Sedryk decided to hassle him with some menial labor. "Feck me in the goat arse," he thought to himself. "Cannae get a moment's rest around 'ere."

Pushing his little green derby higher on his head with his shilelagh, the leprechaun turns and looks the ork up and down as if appraising him. "Now that depends, lad. Do y'got a spot of whiskey for me in return? 'Sides, why in the bloody 'ell are yae diggin' a hole for? Got a pot o' gold you wanna bury or something, do yae?" His head bobs around both of Sedryk's sides looking for one. "'Cause I certainly don't be seein' one."

Paris sits in the now cramped van, doing his best to stretch when he can to avoid getting too cramped, and possibly sleep.

Depressing down here, isn't it? A little sun light wouldn't hurt now and again...

The bike's electrical engine purrs as Raven and Belfast wind their way up the twisty forested trails toward the mine. There is no real path, and only Raven's GPS keeps the pair from getting lost. It rapidly becomes apparent that much of the 8 kilometer stretch between the landing area and the mine is largely impassable to the van. Getting the large vehicle up the slope will require a painstaking process of roundabout paths and minor tree removal.

As the two wind farther up the gentle slope, Raven comes to a sudden halt causing Belfast to slide into her, his grip slipping into places best left unsaid. However, Raven has more immediate concerns as she narrowly avoids sliding the bike over a pitfall. There is a scrambling sound and a pair of rifle barrels appear from the brush, each accompanied by a pair of eyes.

One of the sets of eyes has a voice attached, "What the frag you two want?"

Meanwhile, back at the campsite, the brush rumbles as well. This time, however, the sound is accompanied by a low growling noise. An instant later, a hunking ursine form bursts from the brush and rises to stand on its hind paws. It is covered with alternating patches of shaggy brown fur and hornlike coatings including a pair of troll-like horns near its skull. It growls and holds both forepaws in the air in a threatening guesture.

Brand, who has napped off and on during the trip, shifts in her seat a bit, humming what sounds like "Yellow Submarine", although off-key enough to be debatable.

Paris thinks for a moment about asking Thor to change the color of the van, then thinks better of it, shifts position, and tries to get back to sleep without thinking about peeing.

Raven lets the engine of the bike die. She puts on her best scarred look and opens her mouth wide.

"Uhm, don't shoot?" She says with a fake panick.

Skeeter sees the animal burst from the underbrush. He unwraps one of his strawberry flavored ration bars and throws it into the animal's gaping maw and waits to see if it wants more.

Spotting the two Deliverance rejects in the brush, Belfast immediately shifts his vision to the astral to make sure they're the only ones in the area while slowly putting his hands in the air. A telepathic message to Red Tom is sent out a moment later, telling him to dematerialize and make his way to them pronto.

"Whoa there, mates, it's cool... it's cool..." he begins in a slow, deliberate, but soothing voice totally devoid of his heavy accent. "We were just looking for a place to test out this new bike I bought my fiance here for her birthday. Heard this place had some interesting terrain so we thought we'd check it out. Didn't know it belonged to anyone or anything, man..."

While waiting for their response, his Oakley-hidden eyes scan the terrain looking for any other hostiles as well as a good place for Red Tom to materialize in order to distract them long enough for Bel and Raven to get a jump on them if necessary.

Belfast's assessment of the two as bumpkins doesn't appear to be quite accurate. The rifle barrels never waver. "You just hold on there. No need in gettin' in a hurry. You've got the look of city folk about you... and this is a long way from the city. This land belongs to no one except for the earth itself."

Belfast can't see much of anything on the astral with all of the foilage about. A soft crackle does inidcate that there is a radio active somewhere, though.

Back at the camp with the growling bear, the beast roars loudly as Skeeter throws something at it and it charges forward at him. Red Tom looks like he's about to help out but instead yelps, "I'm afraid ye laddies are on yer own!" as he vanishes with a soft pop.

"Yeah," Bel continues, "we know... my girl, she's an elf yanno, and she's trying to get back to her roots... so I thought it would make for a good get away here to enjoy some nature and fresh air. We've got a camp back down by the river... you're welcome to drop by for dinner tonight if you like... can you just please put those guns down a bit?"

The strawberry flavored ration bar hits the beast in the mouth. Skeeter sees his favorite flavored food fall on the dirty ground wet with the beast's saliva. I am not going to eat that now. Maybe I can use it as bait.

The weapon appears in Skeeter's hand almost magically. He draws a breath and steps into the throw, sending the dikoted tomohawk spinning towards the charging animal. No sooner has it left his hand than he is grabbing for another weapon and preparing to get out of the animals path.

Seeing Skeeters new pet charging head long at him, Sedryk drops the entrenching tool and quick draws the suppressed USP at his hip. As soon as the his smartlink give him a green light, he pulls the trigger once, aiming center mass.

Raven sends a stitching burst of autofire at one of two sentries and tumbles into the trees looking for cover. Her autofire rakes the leaves of the man's hiding place, though he seems to have been ready for it and rolls with the shots. He manages to avoid one round, but the other catches him and he curses loudly.

More than a little surprised at Raven's sudden attack, himself, Belfast finds that the uninjured guard is ever so slightly faster than himself.

BLAM!

Time slows down for the mage as he sees the muzzle pointed in his direction flash and, just for a brief instant, he thinks he can see the bullet rushing out of the muzzle, straight toward him.

"Jaysus fookin' Christ!" Belfast shouts as the lead starts flying. Instinctually, he kicks his leg up and over the back of the bike in the hopes of using it for cover, but not before Redneck #2 gets a shot off at him.

Unfortunately for him, however, Bel let loose a telekinetic bitchslap of epic proportions at the area directly behind the barrel of the gun that just shot him.

With the speed and skill of a cobra, Belfast dives out of the way, flinging a bolt of telekentic force at the shooter at the same time. The shooter, lacking an intimate understanding of magic, doesn't even attempt to dodge and catches it full in the face. He slides back on the earth and curses,though he doesn't appear to be out for the count just yet.

Meanwhile, the other guard takes aim and fires two quick shots at the retreating form of Raven.

Raven hit's a log with her shoulder and rolls over it. She uses the momentum of the roll to propel her behind a solid looking tree a few meters away from the bike.

“Oh, it’s on now,” she whispers under her breath.

She turns to her left, bringing up the Five-seveN in her right hand. The selector in her eyes flashed briefly as she sends the mental impulse switching it from Burst Fire, to Full Auto.

Raven take aim at the closest assailant, and depresses the trigger all the way. The pistol roars as the action rocks back six times in quick succession.

Now sitting behind the cover the bike, a strange serenity finds its way onto Bel's face as he quickly pulls out his own Five-seveN and charges the weapon in preperation for his next action. "You just had to shoot at 'em, didn't ya lass," he half-mutters, half-yells in Raven's general direction. "Couldn't sit tight for a minute or two until I got them to back down a bit, ohhh nooooo, you fookin' elves just have to go and act all macho..."

Seeing his opportunity arise between the crossfire, he tilts around behind the rear tire and empties a 6-round burst at the Redneck who's still firing at Raven before ducking back around.

Raven twists and leans out, holding down the trigger on the Five-seveN and letting the gun rock. The slot who had been tracking her with his rifle looked shocked for an instant as half of his skull exploded in a crimson spray as the bullets literally cut a line through his head.

He slumped back, quite obviously dead.

Belfast let loose a short burst of lead of his own, and it seems to have done the job of keeping the other guy's head down as no answering shot sounds.

Raven ducks back behind the tree. The link in her eye telling her she only had seven round left.

"Right, because your magic had it all under control, you stupid fraggin breeder, just shut the hell up and take out the last one. Give a boy a pretty face and you take away his fraggin brain," the last part is shouted as the smartlink ejects the nearly empty magazine from the gun.

She grabs one off her belt and slams it home. The display shifts to 21. One in the pipe, and 20 in the mag.

"Things were going just fine until you got your knickers in a twist, Keeb," Bel venomously replies while peeking through the bike's engine to see if he can spot the last Redneck.

Delaying his next action, the mick calls out, "You feel like talking now, man, or do ya wanna keep this ugly?" He then proceeds to sit tight while waiting for a response before letting lose some more mojo.

Swift Eagle calls Sedryk on his cell phone. "Hey, this is Swift Eagle, we are on the island. What are the coordinates of your camp site?"

Sedryk is the fastest as he slams a shot into the bear, but it doesn't even seem to notice.

With deceptive ease, Skeeter snatches a razor sharp tomohawk from his belt and lets it fly. The blade arcs with almost languid slowness as it rushes straight into the rushing bear's path. The tomohawk slides across its massive shoulder, raising a thin trail of blood, but it bounces off instead of does more damage.

The bear roars louder as it rears up in front of Skeeter, a massive set of claws unsheathing as it swings at him almost lazily.

----------------------------------------

Meanwhile, deeper in the forest, Raven and Belfast peer into trees, trying to figure out what is going on. Belfast realizes two things in a hurry. The first is that there is a sound coming from the other side of the low ridge where the two gunmen had set up guard (it sounds like someone is moving around), and the other is that a rather large forest spirit has just moved into the area on the astral.

About that time, Red Tom appears with a *pop* near to Belfast's elbow.

----------------------------------------

In the van, time passes.

As Red Tom shifts out of fast movement on the material, Belfast greets him with a "Time to get on the clock, boyo." Both Red Tom as well as the two faerie spirits Bel brought along with him follow their master's gaze up towards the incoming forest spirit.

In a louder voice so that Raven can hear, he calls outs, "The bastard that shot me is still moving back there," he points in the general direction of the noise with his thumb. "And there's a spirit incoming... dunno if its hostile yet or not. We'll take care of that, you handle the Redneck, Rave."

With that, he mentally calls out to Sejal and pulls her into his aura...

Red Tom blinks, "Incomin' tis an understatement, it's right there!" The spirit, still astral appears to have spotted Red Tom. It definitely doesn't look friendly.

A thin smile splits Raven's face.

"You hear that, Bel?," she sub vocalizes, hoping the mage remembered to turn on his radio. "Sounds like reinforcements coming, we need to buzz turbo."

In an eye blink the lowlight world is overlaid with the red hues of thermal vision. Grasping her pistol in both hands, Raven dodges out of cover for a brief instant as she moves for another tree. At no time does the pistol waver from where her target could be.

As good a target as Raven presents, no shots answer from the brush. The wind is picking up, making it almost impossible to know where he is by sound.

Raven creeps closer to the ridge, expecting for the second shooter to pop out at any second. Before long, she is right on the edge of the ridge and has to scramble up the meter or so of slope.

The height of the ridge appears to be much greater from the other side. A single electric bike is still sitting in a small level patch in the hollow below, and a fresh set of tire tracks leads away accompanied by a limping pair of footprints. The shooter is nowhere in sight, though his companion's body is slowly assuming ambient temperature.

Thor switches the van to a forest camoflague as he heads it towards the campsite.

"Dammit," she swears.

"Bel, he bolted. If he reports to whoever, the jig is up." Raven turns and sprints down the ledge toward her bike. Leaping over fallen logs and dodging low limbs. She slides down on one knee next to the Opel.

“Going after the other one,” Raven spits out, in case Bel forgot his radio. She holsters her weapon and hops on the bike. The engine roars to life and she floors it.

“Meet you at the mine,” she shouts over her shoulder.