Terrible and Swift

The Terrible and Swift Sword of the Atom

The room is dark, with Johny at the back of it, talking to a black skinned elven woman. Not like, an elf who is magically black, but an African-American Elf. Tall, with a fade style haircut and clearly some military training from her posture. Johny's posture is such that he is paying deference to the woman with his attitude and attention.


"Yes Ma'am, I have the job. I have the runners on the way. I'll deploy as soon as I get them on their way. I've called in the best of what I have available. One of them is an outsider, one's only halfway aware and one is… untested. But I am confident they will do the job."

"Yes. I know the ones." She says with a clipped tone, turning for the door. "Do not disappoint, Mr. Wulfson, or you will find the consequences less than pleasant."

"Of course, Ms. Brooks. Have a safe trip back to New York."

Ms. Brooks sweeps out of the room then, just as the others would be shown in by Marcus, Johny's aide-de-camp.

Johny exhales, resets his bearing, then turns to the others. "Come in. Sit down and listen up."

Slinger spends the time in the hallway flirting with Marcus, completely without shame. Unless, of course, Johny — or Marcus — tell him to cut it out. Other than that, the young mage is just hanging out, making a pain in the ass out of himself as retribution for being made to wait. Minor retribution, after all. But Marcus /is/ cute.

But when the door is open, he shoots Marcus one final playful wink, then steps into the room. Grabs his usual chair and sprawls back in it, and then grins at Johny. "S'up, man?" His gaze slips toward Adam and Weeko — Weeko, he knows, in passing, though the fact that she's here indicates that she's more than she might first appear. Adam, though, also gets some scrutiny from the young mage, including a rather distant expression as he sizes the other man up.

«Auto-Judge[]» Slinger (#69) rolls Intelligence vs TN 4 for "Astral perception on Adam…":
1 2 4 4 4 10 = 4 Successes
«Auto-Judge[]» Slinger (#69) rolls Aura Reading vs TN 4 for "Complementary…":
1 3 3 7 = 1 Success
«OOC» Slinger says, "Only 4 succs is plenty."

Weeko is a bit surprised she called in here at such a time, at such a haste. I anthing she'd call herself the 'unproven' here. Hell, shure…she's a thief out on a greater mission. quie shurely that means she's feeling quite a bit nervous, expecting this to be the long expected trial-by-fire for the DF. Still, long years under the tutelage of Maser Wu have taught her that the best is to keep calm, this she sits on a chair while she waits to get let in, doing breathing exercises.

Adam appears last in this wonderful group. He spent his time in caution before entering— and was likely the one everyone has been holding on before things got kicked off. He has a book with him, though it is mostly for show, on the right side of his belt against his waist. He first looks over the 'employers' before turning to Weeko and, in turn, Slinger.

Johny nods to the people involved. "Have a seat. I'll get the glad handing out of the way. I'm Johny Wulfson, I'm your employer today, acting as a contractor for the Foundation. I've worked with each of you in the past and I feel you have a background suite to what I need done." He says, exhaling. "This job deploys on the quick from this meeting. You will travel to a foreign land, enter the domain of a dragon, and try to intercept a team headed up a mountain with a sizable explosive device. Time is of the essence, so if you are not up for those perimeters, get the fuck out of the room cause I have calls to make."

Slinger leans back in his chair and pulls out his smokes, lighting one up without hesitation, almost daring somebody to tell him to put it out. He puts his feet up on the table, grinning casually. "So what can we do for you, Mr. Wulfson?" he asks casually, exhaling toward the ceiling. Then, he reclines and listens to the details of it, thoughtfully. "Just one question: Is it gonna be Russia and cold as the proverbial witch's teat?" he asks, cocking his head to the side.

"Need to know, and until acceptance, you don't." Says Johny, clipped in tone.

Adam steps forward and finds himself a chair— preferably a nice, leather one. He doesnt hesitate to answer with only half of the details, "I find all of that acceptable." He looks around for an 'assistant' that he can ask for a cup of tea.

Marcus, played by Justin Long, steps forward when Adam seems to look for something unnamed.

Johny turns his attention to Weeko, an eyebrow rising.

Adam looks up to Marcus and notes, "Iced Mint Tea— in a thermus. I'll likely be taking it with me shortly."

Marcus offers a nod, turning to Slinger, an eyebrow raised much like Sam's, as if to ask what he wants.

Weeko shrugs, "Well…honestly I'm not equipped fer mountain climbin', ya were callin' me onna rather short notice, but if i kin expect at least a basic gear support, Imma fine…though dragon? Are we expected ter be onna lookout fer da 'beast' meanin' are we expectin' trouble o' dat side?"

"You will be provided with all reasonable gear required for this. At MccArron Airfield, the plane is fueling and being loaded with gear that fits your weight ratio. Now. Answer the question so I can move on to to explaining what fools errand I am paying you 40,000 nuyen to march off on."
Johny said that.

Adam takes this time to slip his eyes into a blue-in-blue hue and take a gander over to Slinger. Weeko— he is familiar with— but not so much this man.

«Auto-Judge[]» Adam (#1093) rolls Intelligence vs TN 4 for "Astral Perception":
1 2 4 4 5 8 8 = 5 Successes
«OOC» Johny says, "AStral perceivers will note this room is heavily warded."

Weeko nods, "Well, unda dat premise, I guess i kin accept. Though I guess i'll regret havin' said that."

Slinger waves his hand in Marcus's direction at the offer. "You know me, mano. Fizzycoke, in the bottle, so — yeah, we might be in a hurry. And thanks." A warm, friendly smile to Marcus, before his attention goes back to Johny. The offer of money makes him lift a brow. "Some of the stuff we been talking about, maybe we can work out a bit of a trade?" he asks Johny. "For my share, anyway."

Johny nods then, the windows polarizing suddenly to shut out light as red LED's built in to the desk come on to provide illumination to the space in front of each runner. The center of the table opens and a holoprojector emits the imag eof a distinguished Arabian man, obviously posing for a stock image. "This is Dr. Yusef Halari of the Dunklezhan Institute of Magical Research; head of the the Mediterranean Middle East archeology division. Iranian by nationality, he was a very popular leader in the DIMR until yesterday."

Marcus exits the room, returning a few moments later with the drinks as requested, and a small selection for weeko.

Adam's eyes widen a little bit and his mouth curls into a smile. He takes the drink— but doesnt even touch it, "Ahh," he seems to be aware of at least the name— looking to J for the rationale past yesterday.

Weeko would be taking any kind of fruit juice she came across. Weeko seems to be totally unaware to that name. If she met the guy before, she long ago forgot the name or the face. She studies it a bit and waits patiently for J to continue.

Slinger eyes the image for a moment, burning it into his mind — and also just looking into the man's eyes, trying to determine what might lie there. The 'until yesterday' comment has his attention. "What happened to him?" he asks, casually, and takes a drag from his cigarette, exhales into the path of light of the LED, grinning at the swirling patterns. "Not bad looking," he adds, with a note of regret in his voice. The most likely thing is that the good Doctor had a tragic accident.

Or will have as a result of this meeting.

"He became the target." Says Johny, turning to the group. "One Hundred and Sixty Hours ago, or 6 days and change ago, a routine audit of grant monies was made and a flag raised. 56 hours ago, manpower was made available to investigate the flag. 36 hours ago, serious concerns were raised. 35 hours ago, more manpower was put on it. 25 hours ago it was discovered that fifteen Million Nuyen was misappropriated over the course of his 10 years in the service of the DIMR. 20 hours ago it was discovered that 2 million nuyen were diverted to a Pakistani front company. 18 hours ago it was discovered that front company was owned by several top scientists in the Pakistani Nuclear Program and a general belonging to their Nuclear Weapons Storage Program."

He pauses then.

Adam nods a touch— letting the scene unfold in his head and it explains a great deal. At this time he leans back into his chair, grabs his thermus, and takes a sip.

Johny adds… "I did say the explosive device was of considerable power."

Each piece of this makes Slinger's scowl grow a little larger. "I really… really don't like where this is going," Slinger drawls, stubbing out his cigarette. He lights up a fresh one. Nuclear weapons mean nobody gets to bitch about his smoking. "So we're going to Pakistan. Remind me — they still don't like Americans very much, right? Not the quickest bunch to forgive?" He pauses for a moment, and smiles. "And it seems like this ought to be worth a sizable bonus," he adds.

Weeko nods, "Sounds like the DIMR hadda bug in dere midst. So…wha's all dat gotta do wid explosives anda dragon? I mus' confess I'm not dat familiar wid da Pakistani situation. Well, unless we talking a nuke 'ere…"

Johny exhales then, the holodisplay showing the smoking ruins of Tehran some few hours after Aden played 'Jihad me now, bitches' with the city back in the 30s.

"Dr. Halari is an Iranian National who lost his extended family in the destruction of Tehran. The great Dragon Aden destroyed the city as retribution for the spiritual head of Iran declaring a holy war on metahumanity." A pause. "How Dr. Halari got past the psychologists of the DIMR, I do not know. But he did. And now, it would seem he is trying to return the favor to Aden… who lairs atop Mount Ararat."

Slinger slowly nods. "Coupla stupid questions. First… do we like Aden? It's a cute name, but, well, with the exception of Dunkie, dragons are usually not cute. Second… has anybody just suggested to Aden that he might want to, you know, take a vacation and not be home when this goes off? And third — what level of cooperation can we expect from Aden for, you know, saving his pad if not his scales?"

Weeko frowns, "Ah…great…dat means we gotta uckin' finda nuke inna area dat's not likin' americans, a dragon breathin' down our neck dat's mos' prolly gonna roast our ass fer desert if he gets a whiff o' us 'n stop a madman o' droppin said nuke on said dragons head? I knew I was gonna regret dis…"

"Let me put it this way." Says Johny, looking to slinger. "First, Aden destroyed a city for attacking metahumans; not even exterminating them; simply saying they SHOULD be exterminated. Second, there are only two confirmed instances of nuclear detonation in the 6th world; once when Israel removed Lybia from the map and once in Chicago. Both have been very bad. Third; Ararat is a MASSIVE nexus of powerlines coming in and out of the middle east. Even a failed detonation would poison the site for -centuries-."

Johny then nods to Weeko. "Well, I don't pay the big bucks for sitting around eating bonbons, mommacita."

Johny leaves unsaid, that poisoning the nexus, poisons the lines in and out.

"Gotcha. So Aden's not exactly at the top of our friends list; he's not likely to work with us at all; and this nuke better not go off, even if we manage to get the target out of the way. So our solution is simple — keep it from going off." He grins. "Funny thing about nukes — they're amazingly delicate. Best way to keep one from going off is actually to blow it up. You got a radioactive mess on your hands, but no uber-kaboom."

Johny shakes his head. "Not an option. Not even a dirty bomb, Slinger. DIMR says no-can-do on that option as my first suggestion was an airstrike."

Weeko nods, "Imma not expectin' differently… fogive me dat Imma not lookin' forward ter get me ass grilled by a pissed off dragons fire though…" Hearing the news about powerlines she groans, "'n ya news are gittin' better any minute."

Adam motions a hand to his fellow runners, "I don't think thats in anyone's best interest though. It causes an investigation and— suddenly things get messy. For both parties."

"Rats," Slinger comments. Another drag of smoke. "I guess in that case, we need to figure out — or find out — where the bomb is right now. How many people are around it. What kind of safeguards it has. And how to get it taken back into the right hands, the bad guys arrested and called into a big meeting with a lot of unhappy bean counters. After all, to them, 'misappropriation' is a four-letter word." He lifts his eyes back to Johny. "That about sum it up?"

Weeko ponders, "If ya ask me…da bes' thing is dat nuke simply…disappears…how heavy is dat kinda stuff? I'm not exactly a nuclear physics expert either."

Johny nods to Slinger. "Thats about the long and short of it. Here's what I know. In a caravan of 10 vehicles, with Zaid Kahil bin-Mahmoud, codenamed Ifrit as it's lead, the weapon left Mosul yesterday at or around 10am local. That gives them a 48 hour headstart before you get off the plane in Mosul. There is no indication that Dr. Halari is with them, but he is secondary to the situation at the moment. Further missions will be undertaken to… seek recompense. For now, we need to do two things; avoid the upheaval of -another- great dragons death, and avoid the poisoning of a major power site."

"Thank god he has a code-name," Adam says with a smirk regarding Efrit, "It also means we will need to reclaim some ground quickly and/or find a way of waylaying them in transit." He nods to Slinger and to Weeko.

Slinger considers that for a few moments. "I kinda need a map. Because frankly, if we're having to catch them, trekking overland through the desert, coming from behind, we're screwed. We need to get /ahead/ of them and come at them from in front. Ten vehicles… I'm not good against vehicles," Slinger admits. "Any idea what kinda vehicles, and how armored? And… how likely is this bomb to be well-shielded? If it's not shielded and well, then we're looking at potential for radiation exposure."
He reaches up, runs a hand through his spiky hair. "And I happen to /like/ my hair."

Weeko frowns, "I hope un' o' ya kin drive…I'm decent wid me bike 'n da nice city terrain…I'm not up fer whaeva a desert will throw at me. Kin we git mapchips o' da area 'n maybe a linguachip fer whateva dem talk out dere?"

Slinger eyes the picture of Ifrit. "Damn. Why are so many of the hot guys I meet evil terrorist bastards? That's what sucks about this line of work," the youth complains. Then the graphic changes to the map, and he leans forward to look at it. "All right. We are /here/," he says, and points at a spot about twenty meters to the left of the map. "Where are the bad guys again, and where are we landing?"

Johny brings up the map on the holoprojector. "Assuming they can make 40 miles an hour, which is generous in this asshole of the world… they can be about here… by now." A pause shows them about halfway to the mountain. "Now, if we airlift in to Silopi, we can cut their lead to about 3 hours. The problem, is airlifting in to SIlopi is not something we can do on the sly. A big plane landing with a team with its own gear gets noticed so soon after another big caravan rolls through… and we can be sure Halari has men on the ground watching his ass."

Slinger pauses at that, then shakes his head. "No. No way. No fraggin' way," the youth says, shaking his head rapidly, holding up his hands. He sticks his cigarette into his mouth and leans back, folding his arms firmly over his chest. He knows where this is going.

Johny quirks a brow at Slinger. "What?"

Adam looks over towards Slinger and quirks an eyebrow as well. He asks, "Is there any drop site that would put us ahead of them?"

Weeko frowns, "Parachutes…", she says. Just this single word.

Johny offers to Weeko as an aside… "We will have linquisofts provided, but you may want to spend some time learning the local lingo yourself. Do you have a linguasoft link?"

Slinger smirks. "Not jumpin' out of a plane," he states firmly. Then he pauses. "Wait. I can fly. Nevermind. Let's do that," he says with a grin. "Have the plane take us somewhere and drop us. Parachute down, get set up, badda bing, take the bad guys out, then send a chopper for the device once we got it under control.

Johny thinks that over, looking to the other two, to get their reactions.

Adam looks at Johny and nods, "I was going to say— so long as we have our Spells— aerial insertion shouldnt be a problem. It depends on how much gear we bring, weight wise."

Weeko nods, "knowsoft links, GPS, orientation systen…beta stuff. Jus' newly installed dis week … by a friend. Would be my firs' practical use…"

Johny nods. "Thats one of the conciderations I made in bringing you in, Adam." He says with a grunt. "I need people who can move themselves with the least amount of logistical support possible; that usually means combat magi."

Slinger nods. "Trouble is, mages as a group are pretty pathetic against vehicles. It's one of our weaknesses. So we need some support there. Weeko… how good are you at demolitions and heavy guns?"

Weeko shakes her head, "I'mma close up expert…imma fraid…killin' hands 'n stealth."

Adam looks to Slinger and notes, "I am capable of making the roads slickened to the point of crashing. Depending where I toss it down, we can separate the carrivan."

"Imma jus' workin' on me range expertise…got me a smartlink in da package, no pad, but…i guess needin' a wire ter link up 's not dat much o' a problem mosta da time…was a matta o' da holistic impact…no need ter loose more magic'n needed.", Weeko explains… "maybe AV-rounds fer me Predator would be a plus…"

Slinger considers that. "Trouble is, though… are they even on roads? Johny here seemed to imply they were going over the desert… and making sand slick doesn't help much." He takes a draw of smoke. "AV rounds would be a good start, but my thought is… we really need something bigger, something /really/ anti-vehicular. Those things they're driving, if they got that kinda cash, probably have good armor."

"They will be traveling on roads, in so much as they exist in the area. Traversable land is well plotted." Says Johny then, reaching for a bottle of fizzyglug.

Adam nods his head once— the fair white hair falling before he scoops a hand to put it back where it should be, "Excellent. Also my firearm has a few clips of AV. Im not as concerned with the vehicles crashing or the bullets causing an impromtpu detonation, but if you are suggesting rockets, I do not know." He looks over to Weeko, "If we can though, we could go as far as putting down mines, given the prep time."

Weeko shakes her head, "jus' takin' outta vehicles 's no option anyway…we dun wanna git da bomb harmed…i dunno 'bout ya…but any kinda radiation leakin' at dat place does sound like a bad idea ter me, atta place like dat…"

Slinger considers. "Gotta be some mines we can put down that will stop the vehicles without making 'em blow up or anything," he remarks. "Something that'll take out the wheels or the drive train or whatever… or just blow the crap outta the road." He considers that for a moment, then shrugs. "Maybe even find a spot and send an avalanche down onto the road? You said it was mountainous."

Adam smiles comfortingly over to Weeko, "All my power is upstairs. But the only question I have is 'Is there something we need to obtain or find out before we go?' Otherwise, we should make use of the time we have and get moving." Looking to Slinger he agrees, "There should be, yes. We can check with a demolition expert on both accounts. Between potential landslides, mines, sabotauge, and hazardious roads— we should be able to cover the 10 vehicles with minimal confrontation."

"These are all possibilities, yes." Says Johny, drinking the soda. "I'm not going to tell you its not, but I'm also -not there- and I won't be on the ground with you."

Johny nods to Adam. "Exactly. I don't have anything else for you right now. I may have more for you when you land. I may have more for you tomorrow, but for right now, I need you getting on a plane and jetting across the fucking world to stop a dipshit form using a nuke to blow the top off a holy mountain and pissing off a great dragon."

Weeko ponders, "Well…if i had a charge I coul' place onna vehicle to blow up da engine…dat would make stuff easier…if we'd need ter request dat kinda stuff now, I'd do it now…"

Slinger nods to Johny. "All right. But we're gonna need a care package put together to be dropped with us. I want some AV ammo for Weeko, some kind of mines like that, and some good plastic explosive. One way or another, I'd rather have it and not need it, than need it and not have it. Other than that, plenty of water and provisions. Some means of chatting with base. And a long, hot shower when we get home. We'll talk about pay later."

Adam pushes himself out from his chair. He grabs his thermus— nodding to the young mage— and heading to go grab the door for the other two. "Sounds good to me."

Johny raises an eyebrow. "I already stated pay for this mission is 40,000 nuyen. If thats not enough, I don't have much room for negotiation on it."

Slinger gets to his feet, crushes out his cancer stick. He's got a supply of extra smokes, so he's good there. "All right. Before we go — any other mission parameters? I assume we don't want to be gentle with these guys, and taking prisoners isn't high on our list of objectives?"

Weeko scribbles down a quick list of wht she deems neccessary besides the usual requirements, as food and drink and hands it to j.

"It may not be your chosen level of hat-hue, Slinger, but I don't want these men succeeding. If You have to remove someones head, put your hand up their now open neck and them wiggle your fingers in their mouth to make a point… well. Wear a glove." Says Johny.

Slinger shakes his head. "Trust me, man. Once you decide to set off a nuke for purposes like these, stopping you by whatever means necessary becomes the whitest of white-hat operations. None of those men is innocent, and I'll do whatever it takes to take them out," Slinger says firmly, a coldness in his voice.

Johny nods to Slinger then. "Welcome to my world." He says, simply eyeing the boy levely before breaking off. "I will not be available to you in the field. I will be engaging in a concurrent operation in Alexandria, Egypt. Good luck, Gentlemen and ladies. DOn't come home dead, that would, while saving me money, greatly piss me off."

Slinger grins, nods to the others. "Just make a note of those items we asked for, see that they're there for us. Some kinda vehicle would be nice, but we can live without it." He grabs his pack of smokes and lighter, and then hefts the bag he's carrying containing his armor and a little bit of extra gear. "Let's motor."

Weeko nods to J, "I got kids…ya know dat…I want 'em ter live inna world dat's 't leas' halfway worth fer 'em ter live in…'n I dun like nukes…ya kin bet I'll do me bes' ter fuck 'em up."

Johny nods to the team then… "The helicopter is on the roof now. You can depart at your pleasure. Use the bathroom now if you have to." He says, simply moving to the door as the lights come back on. "Go fuck some assholes up."

Slinger does stop by the bathroom… and then he heads up toward the roof with his bag in tow. He pulls a fresh pack of Mountain Lions from the bag, then stashes it where informed to — and then climbs into the chopper. He doesn't have a lot of gear, really. His armor, and a few other accessories. And that's about it.

Weeko is sure to go to the bathrooms. A long last stop before she's most probably going to expect not having big breaks for quite a while.

In the Chopper

Weeko slowly moves to wards the helicopter as she arrives on the platform, having a fascinated look at that technological masterpiece.

The Helicopter is a nice thing, a sleek, modern aircraft with lines like a woman and an engine like a race car.

The teenaged elf looks around the interior of the aircraft, and reaches for his smokes while he waits for takeoff. "Just hope we don't end up on the private jet. That thing is awesome, unless you smoke. In which case it's a hellhole," he says, with a smirk. "So… uh… what skills do you have, other than being a loving mother?" he asks Weeko casually.

Weeko finally enters the machine. Having a look around, she says a bit awed, "Well…dat's 'bout da third time I enter an airplane and da firs' time was an experience 'n itself…'specially da … landin'. Dem planes where quite less comfy though…but i guess dat's ter be expected fer smuggler rides." She then looks at Slinger, "I'm basically a street rat. Excellent on melee, stealth 'n athletic stuff, decent wid me gun, 'tronics 'n a few otha thingies.

Slinger chuckles. "Same here. Street rat, Denver born and bred. 'Cept I had a Master who taught me stuff. Made sure I didn't get too much of an accent." He still does have a trace of it, though, audible especially when he gets excited. ""I don't think we've worked together before. Other than you flirting with me in the Olive Garden, but I don't think that counts for either of us," he adds, with a soft chuckle. "I'm known as Slinger on the streets. Short for Mojo-slinger."

Weeko giggles, "Well, I hadda master too, a shaolin monk. But trust me ya dun wanna have me talk wid an chinese accent…Well, I was mos'ly on me own…jus' was able ter git lessons o' da masta. Those monks dun really git paid onna regular base, ya know. I'm, jus' Weeko a few call me Tusks if we need to code onna radio. Kika Elo's jus' an item onna chip."

Weeko's accent is thick enough that Slinger is getting most of what she says, but not all of it. "Tusks. Got it," he says, and lights up a fresh cigarette. He holds out the pack as an offer, grinning. "I wouldn't worry about lung cancer, given where we're goin'," he says casually. "My Master hated smokin'… one reason I took it up after he died." The youth grins. "'Cause I wasn't supposed to."

He thinks for a few moments, then lets out a breath. "Ten vehicles. That's gonna be… at least twenty guys. Probably at least one mage, figuring who's leading the group. Probably more than one. Spirit guards… we're gonna have our work cut out for us mojo-side.

Weeko shrugs, "fer dat kinda treck I dun assume ter strong spirits. Ya dun wear yaself out jus' widda preliminaries…'n if…well, even a spirit needs ter see ya, ter affect ya."

Slinger chuckles. "Trouble is, spirits can see ya just fine, even if you're trying to hide. Your aura — no good way to cloak that," the youth says, with a shrug of his shoulders. He takes a slow drag from his cigarette, inhaling the smoke deeply. "We'll deal with it when we get there, I figure. But like always, it's the getting-there part that sucks."

Weeko shrugs, "TIf 'em still kinna look through roccks, den Imma fine…still some kin sense ya diff'rently…dat's right…I'm not as firm da spirit stuff, aside o' bein' truly 'n love fer Athena Janie's spirit."

Slinger chuckles. "Athena is… well, not my type," Slinger admits, stretching out his legs. He considers how to proceed. "Hopefully they'll get us some better briefing stuff. I'm going on nothing here… and that's gonna make things harder." He takes another drag — smoking heavily before a mission is one of the ways he gets himself ready for it.

Weeko shrugs, "I had to go on runs with less 'n dat…still, da scope was kinda smaller. I'd go wid dis briefin' if i had ter, still, some more Recon woul' be nice."

Weeko then nods to Slimnger, "Yeah…I noticed ya kida type…guess I should send ya da nex' terrorist I catch ova." She giggles.

"More recon is always nice. But I dunno if we're gonna get it." He pauses. "Honestly, what really scares me is them setting off the bomb, or threatening to. I mean… let's face it, people of that faith who are committed to their cause have never been afraid to die for it. And they might just do it." He smirks at Weeko's comment. "Yeah, well, evil people aren't my type, either. He's hot, but I'll take him down just as fast as I'll take down anybody else. Which is, as fast as I can," Slinger says firmly.

Weeko tilts her head, "Well…ya know…I dun think Imma good girl. In fact me prime concern is ter life fer da nex' day, but yer right, da arabs are crazy like dat…but, did'na J say we were set up 'gainst a kinda runner team? I wonder if them were hired or volunteered dat might make quite a difference…mercs are usually less motivated ter ight ter da las' if things go south."

Slinger considers that. It's a good point. "I'll make a note to see if we can find out that information," the youth agrees. "Because that makes a big difference. If you're just hired, you're more concerned with your skin." He glances over to Adam, tilts his head. "Had any thoughts about how we're gonna pull this off?" the kid wonders.

Adam has been speaking to himself very lightly during this time. He has the linguasoft in a player and is going over the language in his earbuds. In front of him, the written language correlates to what is an accellerated Rosetta Stone program. He notices Slinger talking to him and pauses the program, "Thoughts? Yes. We tier the attack. Put down the plastique at a stop when they refuel, put down the mine field, and prior to them hitting it, I slicken the roads. During that confusion, detonate the plastique. From there, some will go in the field, like it or not, and others will outright crash. That will reduce the numbers we have to work with and is the more chaotic part where we earn our pay on improv."

Without further adu, the aircraft powers up and lifts off from the top of Draco Tower. Flying across the city, the transfer to the sleek black jet aircraft with the interior like the limousine.

Weeko frowns, "Well, I'd prefer a more sublte approach, but I'm da newbie in dis…so I'll let ya guys do da plannin'."

Slinger considers that. "Good point. The trouble is, when are they gonna refuel? We gonna hit them at a gas station? I doubt there are many of those — they may be carrying enough fuel with them, too." He considers that for a moment. "The trick for us is setting up an ambush at a known point, somewhere we can lay the trap down without being detected." He glances over the dossier information, and groans. "Drek and drek. Weather control. That may work against us, especially if we're exposed."

Weeko shrugs, "I may be outdated…but usually people rest at night. 'n as we're talkin' about a desert…I assume they'd prefer a water source close by. Da rest should be simple math. 'n GPS info."

Adam rubs his chin, "Im not an automotive expert— but refueling outside of the technology that is in jets for mid-air refueling would cause combustion. So you would need to stop, add gas, and restart. That means that the caravan may have waypoints planned out that we can exploit. In the event they do not, we lose a tier of the attack, which is unfortunately but workable."
The icy-haired man continues and tells him, "Yes, I've thought about that. The power players on their team are going to be a challenge to overcome. I can handle astral combat well enough, but thats the only way I can think of 'quickly' taking down astral predators. The inherent problem with that is…" he motions his body— the whole out of body thing.

Aboard the aircraft, take off and reaching cruising speed happen so fast as to be rather unnoticeable. Very quickly the aircraft reaches subsonic speeds, just behind the envelope of the sound barrier, flying high and heading for the east coast.

Slinger lights another cigarette, considering that. "The refueling thing is a possibility, but I don't see a way to exploit it unless we can find out someplace they have fuel stashed. Otherwise, we're trying to follow them, rather than setting up a fixed ambush. I'd be much happier finding a spot where we can set up a fixed ambush. Especially since we don't have a vehicle, and will be going on foot. Which is good, because vehicles are surprisingly vulnerable to some things. Just not mojo."

Weeko shrugs, "If needs be, I'm kinda good at takin' on an attackin' astral presence. Killin' hands on a serious powerlvel, counterstrike and excellent melee skill…just so ya know. I'd jus 'need sumun ter git nasty spirit powers 'way o' me… And wll, again, we're talking desert. inna desert ya dun touch ya water reserve unless ya have ter, which 'll mean they'll rest at a well as often as 'em kin. Da guys are desert dwellers…if i were 'em I'd use fresh water as much as possible."

Adam nods his head a couple times, "I agree completely. Thats why only one of us should go to the gas points…" The he thinks about it a little deeper, "Which would leave us underpowered for when we hit it since they wouldn't be able to catch back up with us. Hrm, unless we take Weeko's suggestion, and do it at night. It'd be a tight time table. Thats up to you, Weeko, if that doesnt sound feasible, we would need to know. You would be doing that insertion, sabotauge, and extraction back to the main group."
He looks to Weeko and explains, "Busting spirits is my speciality." The blue-eyed Elementalist waves to the woman with his metallic hand.

Weeko ponders the ideas mentioned so far, "if ya clean me slate spiritwise, I'm fine wid sneakin' in. We coul' combine it…sabotage da fuel, da cars, maybe even da water. Make their lifes hell on earth…if we only manage parto' dat, they'll be at least hampered or even weakened."

"All right. So, since you like wells and gas points — anybody got a good way to find those?" Slinger asks. "'CAuse if we don't know where they are, they don't do us any good. May I also point out that since we lack a vehicle, we're gonna get dropped, and not be all that mobile. I can move in the desert to some degree, and I can fly, but." He considers that for a moment. "Who's our point of contact on this with Johny out of commission?"


Incoming Call On Airborn Communications System

Adam hits the speaker button for the comm system— before going into a response to that one.

Weeko ponders, "well, I dunno, maybe we kin git some sat recon fer dat kinda stuff? I'd expect a well to cool down da surroundig area…not much, but maybe da sat's kin register…and in doubt…dun da DF have contacts in dat area who kin give us information? I thought we're workin' fer a global player ere…", Seems she didn't realize the com signal just her third flight and she never had to care about that stuffon her previous ones.

A tridscreen slides down from the ceiling. Johny's features fill the screen. It's clear he's on a plane like your own, only a little different. "Alright. We got some data on their package. It's a one megaton weapon, roughly the size of a steamer truck. It weighs about five hundred pounds so it's not easy to move. It's in a military style plastic reinforced case that looks something like a coffin for a dwarf."

Johny shows a graphic then. "There are no major cities in the blast zone, but Ararat is the source of the head waters of the regional watershed."

Slinger nods slowly, considering that. Five hundred pounds — just under two hundred fifty kilos. "Two strong men could move it. Or four people like me," the elf adds with amusement. "We got any info on their movements? Are they stopping periodically? Stopping at night? Refueling along the way? Taking breaks to switch out drivers? If so, we may have some good ambush points. Also would like some sat recon of their route, see if we can find any nice valleys where we can take out parts of the road, leave them no easy way around. Also curious about their vehicles."

Johny shakes his head. "I do not have that data. This caught us entirely blind, concealed by who should have been our eyes in the area."

"All right. We know anything about their most likely route?" he wants to know. "Are there gas stations along the way? And is this… this terrain actually looks somewhat populated. Not the wasteland I was picturing. That means multiple places to stop for gas, unless I miss my guess."

Adam checks— as an aside, "Sounds like you may want that person back alive— given the oppertunity. If we can make that possible, and its of value with compensation, we can add it as a tertiary goal."

"Negative. He's gone to ground and is not with the insertion team. Your primary objective is to avoid the insertion teams impregnating a mountain with a bomb that wil… eh, fuck the puns. Stop them. Let me worry about the extraneous factors."

"AS for their logistical chain, again, I do not know. I'm sorry Slinger; this isn't the way I like to run an operation and you know that." Admits Johny.

Weeko asks, "Any contacts in the area, we might use? 's not exactly my home turf, ya know…"

"I'm somewhat tapped out from recent activities in the area. I've always been somewhat middle east light in my contacts. This isn't my operational area. We're trying to figure out who in the … We're trying to establish which assets in the area are reliable. Thats why you're being brought in and not local talent."

"I know I can count on two of three of you, and the third… well. I have my suspicions."

Slinger considers that. "All right. Do we have any idea which way they're going, at least?" Slinger asks. "Or are we literally doing this blind? This is a big desert." Slinger is starting to become a little more concerned, now. He frowns as he contemplates this. "Now I'm beginning to wonder if we're going to have to literally stop them while they're on top of the mountain — it's the only damned place where we'll know exactly where they are."

Weeko nods, "Well, dat's about what I feared ter hear…seems ya make my startin' mission' wid yer group as hard as possible. So we got a dragon ter mind, kinna trust da locals 'n have ter stp a group o' potential madmen ter detonate a nuke onna mountain inna area we neva bin in? Did I miss anything?"

Slinger nods. "Yeah. We got no clue where they are… only where they're going. Unless I missed something. I'm seein' a maze of highways around that area," he mutters. "Means they could go just about any which way, based on factors that only they know."

Adam brings up the map and starts checking them, "Its not a very developed area— lets see how many roads they can even travel on if they plan to resupply."

Johny leans back in the chair then, looking at the video camera. "We know certain things that are of assistance." A pause. "Their weapon is not man portable. That means they will need to drive as far up the summit as possible. Now, this mountain is in the middle of nowhere, and further, the Turkish government has been hands off since Tehran; so no roads have been maintained. This leaves only a few avenues for a group of trucks to traverse. I can get you a listing of roads they can get to with their radius of travel. Probably only one or two, to go up the mountain." "

The youth considers that. "And the trouble with that is, if these /are/ fanatics, then at the first sign of trouble they just push the button. Close counts in thermonuclear war, just like horseshoes. And they might just decide they're close enough, and if it looks like they might not succeed: bzzt kaboom!" He shakes his head. "Not acceptable. I don't want them getting within eight miles of that mountain, based on those projections you showed me. There has to be some way to find out where they are."

Slinger pauses, then asks, "Can you hook us up with anybody who can get us intel? Can we at least get a trix connection here? I want a weather report," the kid comments, and grins.


Johny closes his eyes for a moment, thinking that over. He looks off camera, down as though reading something.

Weeko nods, "Well dat's soundin' betta…kin we git sat track via our gear ' where they are right now? I got an MPCP6 deck wid me, so i kin prolly do some data assessment if I have an uplink…'s new ter me ter jack in, so I'm sorry I fer got ter mention 't atta home base."

Weeko studies the transferred map, then notes dryly. "Guess I'm gonna do my second parachute jump…and ter make matters worse, none o' dem paths. Will be save concernin' da nuke. Dem's already close 'nough fer real trouble…guess dats it fer a frontal attack…"

"Here's what I know about the team. They are not fanatics. THey are a mercenary team based in Istanbul; they are unlikely to be suicidal, at least the main group. They are being paid a -lot- for what they are doing. Likely up to a half million each."

Slinger nods thoughtfully. "Good money," he agrees. "Not fanatics, but they probably at least somewhat believe in the cause, but they'll probably want to keep their skins intact." He grins. "So why are they getting paid half a million, but we, the team gonna defeat them, is getting forty kay each?" he asks with a playful note in his voice.

"Because we're good guys."

Weeko giggles, "Seems bein' good is considered worth about 460 kay…Slinger. Guess I need ter git some down pay fer bein' a bad girl …"

Slinger mutters. "That's what I figured." He pauses. "Okay. The problem is, they're already at the point where they're gonna pick a spot. We /have/ to know where they are gonna be, because the roads only intersect at the top. Gimme an idea… from the time we get there, how long do we have before they reach the top and set it up?"

Johny thinks that over, looking down at a datapad.. "Local weather.. condition of the roads… avoiding any settlements or sympathetic locations… trying to stick to areas of high biomass… moving stealthily… I estimate it will take them at least 20 hours to ascend the mountain with their logistic chain intact. People do not like to ditch gear and I hate to be racist, but I'm counting on the mercantile nature of the arab culture in conjunction with the outright mercenary nature of the unit involved to not want to give up goods."

"Because the good favor with this particular employer is a return on investment to exceed that amount," Adam says cooly as he looks things over. After that he is interested in the response to Slinger's answer— and gets it.

You say "If I was they, I would take route three. It's longer, but it's safer, easier on the people involved and involves the least amount of overland travel and carrying a five hundred pound bomb.""

Weeko blinks, "Do we have an estimate o' how quick dem kin travel on dem roads? might we be able ter shortcut over da mountain 'n catchup? 'n case we loose 'em?"

"Your main bonus here is your ability to traverse the terrain without need for the roads; assuming you jump out of the plane." Says Johny, one hand coming up to rub his forehead. "You locate the vehicle train, then can get ahead of them."

Slinger grins and rolls his eyes. "Yeah, guys. I know. I do lotsa work for Johny." He considers that for a moment. "Route three… would you take that answer to the bank, Johny? Because if we're wrong, then we get to travel overland, on foot, to try to intercept them at an alternate location — by which time we might be at what future generations will sadly refer to as 'ground zero'." He exhales a cloud of smoke from a freshly-lit cigarette. "We're literally talking about betting our lives on this."

Adam rubs his chin again, "If we have a method of confirmation— otherwise— quite a risk, agreed. If we had a surveillance drone, we might be able to tell before we arrived."

Johny leans forward before answering that. In his mind, numbers are crunched, rerun, scenarios played out endlessly, the power of genetically enhanced neural synapses merging with the raw computational power of advanced micro-computers designed for just this purpose. Situational analysis and advisement. His eyes close and he rubs his temples. "Route three, 75 percent probability. Route two, 15 percent probability, route 1, 10 percent probability. Gut says route three if they don't know your coming, which right now, they don't. If they know your coming, the numbers reverse, with the faster but more treacherous climb of route one becoming paramount."

Weeko hmmm, "I assume we can stay in contact via some comm onm the ground? Can we get situational updates? Cause as i see it to get them on the route we want them to be, we gotta drop without recon on out part. For the simple reason to not alert them."

Slinger rubs at his hairless chin, takes a drag of smoke, shakes his head. "I don't like those numbers given these stakes. Gotta be some way to find it." He considers. "Hey, can we get weather information? Because if she's a weather mage, and we look for weather that should not be… might give us a clue." He shrugs a shoulder. "One thought. Otherwise… I'm almost tempted to tip our hand and force them onto route 1, just so we /know/. Not that I like that idea. Another option is… well, wait until we're nearby, and then one of us goes astral and looks.

"Those are good numbers, Slinger. Most handlers would never tell you the numbers." Says Johny honestly as he leans back again. "THere are no -sure things- in this world, Slinger. They just don't exist. I don't have anymore data, but local weather stations say the weather is clear and hot at ground level, colder progressively so, as you raise in altitude."

Adam notes, "Thats not a bad idea on the astral front— when we get close— we can check. And, also it gives me an idea. If we damage the roads badly enough, we can force them to backtrack and try another route if things go south. It would be guerilla tactics."

Johny then nods to Weeko. "We can get updates, provided communications are open. Satellite phones are available."

Weeko ponders, "Hmmm…ya guys kin conjure, right? Kin ya spirit thingies block two routes? I mean route one and 2 share a common part atta beginning if we block that…"

"If I had some elementals with services pending I could call on, yes," Adam says to Weeko, "but I cant say I have any available right now."

Slinger grins. "Those are good numbers for Vegas. Those are shitty numbers when my life's on the line," the elf shoots back with a grin. "Comms are good," he agrees thoughtfully. "And yeah, that's one option. Except for one thing. Nothing says they have to reach the top. Remember, close counts with nukes. And they can move faster than we can… we can move /between/ roads more easily, but we're on foot or levitating. I can move at about forty, forty-five kph when I'm flying, tops. Means I can track a slow-moving car, but that's it. Everybody else is on foot, and probably slower than that."
Weeko's solution, though, causes Slinger to lift a brow. "Now… now /that/ is a solution!" he says with a grin and a snap of his fingers. "I've got earth elementals. Send them ahead, they fuck up the roads we don't want them to take, forcing them to backtrack. And it'll look natural."

"ACtually." Says Johny then… "Close counts; if you want to just… hurt someone." He shakes his head. "Halari wants to -kill- Aden and destroy his home. A dragon lairs underground. Deep. They would need to place this very close to do much of anything with a yeild this low. They have to get within a few hundred feet to assure a killblast."

Slinger nods, and then asks, "Can I get a more detailed view of the area? Map data — let's look for some bridges to fuck up. Make it look like an earthquake… anywhere an earth elemental can make that road totally impassable. Not sure how detailed my instructions will have to be."

Weeko nods, "Let 'em fuck up bridges all ova da place 'n dem /have/ ter take our dream route."

Adam offers, "Still— routes 1 and 2 to be trashed. If they dont take them anyway, which is statistically probable, they will be less suspecious. Although natural looking to most, there are still professionals in that group."

"Googlemaps no longer, by request of Aden, stocks such photos." A pause. "Most recent satillite image I have, from the DIA of the UCAS, is… 5 years old. Aden's not a big threat to the UCAS. I could poke the MOssad… but the adventures with that cruise ship have strained my contacts there for the time being."

Weeko nods, "Dat's me most worry…could an earth elemental or some kinda nature spirit make da place passable again?"

Weeko giggles, "Any way ya command er dat spirit could be quite easy….destroy all reads leadin' to dat mountaintop within x kilometers…we dun really wan't emt ter git up anyway…still dat might make ya spitit quite busy…'n time is quite a matta…but yer da one dat's got ter handle dat."

Adam goes on to offer, "The spirits an also be useful for moving and handling both the vehicles and the nuclear material. For creating the damage— sure. For having it fixed, I dont think so. I can shatter a plate, but recreating it is going to take a lot more effort."

"Five years ago will probably be good enough," the youth comments. "Gimme whatever we got. We'll pick a place, and that will make sure that we know where we're going. Then we can pick a spot on the third route and figure out where to set up our ambush. These are closer to betting odds," Slinger says, sounding satisfied. "And frankly, I don't care about his road. He can fix it himself," the youth says with a smirk. "As long as he doesn't know it's /my/ spirit. If he does… well, we'll deal with that when the time comes. Maybe he'll realize he owes me. Prolly not, though."

"Probabilities are not in your favor." Monotones Johny.

Weeko nods, "Well, that means if we damage the routes they should not take enough, them will be quite forced ter take our route or which would be qually good, they'd be forced ter do so on foot…so if we keep an watcher in da premise ter alarm us if they take da wrong route we'd be save…"

"They're not gonna risk moving the thing on foot unless they have no other choice. Too much chance of it getting dropped or damaged. Remember what I said — they're delicate." He considers for a moment, crushing out his cigarette. "Got those maps for me?" he asks Johny. "We'll pick out spots…"

«OOC» Slinger says, "Basically, to let you know, Slinger is going to look for bridges, cliffs, any sort of structure that is already somewhat perilous… looking for ones that are easy for the spirit to take out /and/ might well look natural /and/ would offer no easy way around."
«OOC» Johny says, "Yeah; I don't have fucking maps of Ararat, so a large degree is going to be: Yeah. its a volcanic mountain 3 miles tall. That shit exists."
«OOC» Johny grins.
«OOC» Slinger says, "So can I find at least two likely sites on each of the two paths we don't want them to take?"
«OOC» Johny says, "Got any mapreading or land navigational skills?"
«OOC» Johny says, "having map != understanding map for tactical purposes."
«OOC» Slinger has geography… and geology.
«OOC» Adam has— Wilderness Survival. Nice when we hit the ground, nothing for now.
«OOC» Johny ooohs. I'll give you geography with geology at half dice.
«OOC» Johny says, "TN is 6"
«OOC» Slinger says, "Damn. That sucks. KP gonna refresh before we hit the ground?"
«OOC» Johny says, "Nope."
«OOC» Slinger says, "You're a bastard ;)"
«OOC» Johny says, "Suck it up, magicalboy!"
*-OOC-* Adam laughs.
«OOC» Slinger says, "Half-dice means, part of the same roll? Or complementary?"
«OOC» Johny says, "Same roll"
«Auto-Judge[]» Slinger (#69) rolls Geography + 1 (geology 3, half-dice) + Karma Pool: 1 vs TN 6:
2 5 5 11 11 = 2 Successes
«OOC» Johny says, "Now, See? That wasn't so bad."
«OOC» Slinger says, "I'll take that. KP 1/21."
«OOC» Weeko is a city girl, no wilderness skills, really.
«OOC» Slinger says, "Should I use the services? Or will you have those spent as part of the queue?"
«OOC» Johny says, "Yes, go ahead and +Voucher/use them"
«OOC» Slinger says, "How many services?"
«OOC» Johny says, "Your call; depends on how many different sites you want to hit. One service per site, I think."
«Auto-Judge[]» Slinger (#69) uses 2 of item 2: Services for Force 6 Earth Elemental from Elementals (#2083).
«OOC» Slinger says, "2 sites. Two options for each site."
«OOC» Johny nods.
«Auto-Judge[]» Johny (#799) rolls 6 vs TN 5 for "Complexish instructions":
1 2 2 4 8 17 = 2 Successes
«Auto-Judge[]» Johny (#799) rolls 6 vs TN 5 for "Complexish instructions part 2":
1 1 1 2 3 5 = 1 Success
«Auto-Judge[]» Johny (#799) rolls 6 vs TN 5 for "Complexish instructions part 3":
3 3 4 5 11 13 = 3 Successes
«Auto-Judge[]» Johny (#799) rolls 6 vs TN 5 for "Complexish instructions part 4":
2 2 2 4 4 5 = 1 Success

Johny nods. "They are already in your system, ready to be qued up. Check the display to your left."

Slinger glances to his left, and sets down to looking through them, in whatever detail he can get.

There are two points that look particularly promising; but you dismiss them immediately. After all, if they look that good to you, you can be sure the enemy has put spirits or other eyes on them as well. Instead, Slinger finds two reasonably dangerous looking stretches. One is where a century old steel and stone bridge crosses a treacherous ravine, the other would be on a series of switch backs that carve their way vertically up a steep siding. The first is in the foothills, the second is further up the mountainside.

Slinger calls upon his earth elemental. "I want you to destroy these two roadways. There are three roadways leading up the side of Mount Ararat," Slinger tells the creature, sitting in astral space. "I want you to make the eastern two impassable. You should do the easternmost one this at a location here, with a bridge passing over a deep but narrow crevasse. If for some reason that site cannot be done, move to the north two kilometers and collapse this rock wall here, sending the debris over the roadway. On the middle one — the westernmost of the two that we want blocked — erode the supports of this bridge here, which should remove it. If that cannot be done, then go north half a kilometer, and collapse… yes, see if you can collapse this cave here, which will cause a sinkhole that will swallow the road.
"Return and inform me when it is finished. Also, if you are attacked by something you cannot /easily/ defeat, return and inform me. Do you understand?"

Slinger adds to the elemental, before sending it on its way, "If you don't succeed, use your judgement to make the road impassable. But tell me if you do or do not succeed."

Earth Elementals are not really comfortable on airplanes. The Elemental, a collection of dirt and rocks that seems to constantly move and shift with tectonic and volcanic action, its skin constantly rebirthed from within as it swallows itself, nods. It does not answer verbally before it slides in to the Astral, then departs.

Johny exhales. "I need to prepare for my own side of this mission, team. Any final questions before I sign off?"

Adam looks over the maps before he goes back to the linguasoft, "Negative."

Weeko leans back watching the guys do their job, as she did hers by offering ideas. For now all she can do is wait and have a try at the linguasoft and mapsoft herself.

Next, Slinger will go over the maps with Weeko, looking for a good insertion point. His goal is to find a place that might well have nice steep walks, perfect for an ambush. Plenty of cover, plus a way we can block the road if we have to with explosives or something we can set off on short notice. Or a good place for mines or the like. A place where we can parachute down without dying — or where his levitate spell will work.

Johny signs off, the call ending. Elsewhere over the Atlantic, Johny's plane retracts the antenna and goes supersonic, getting him to Malta, then Cairo, faster than the others.

«OOC» Weeko says, "Any bridges of interest along that route? Preferable ones that go over a river/stream or a deep valley/ravine."
«OOC» Johny says, "The ones already spotted by Slinger."
«OOC» Johny says, "And slinger; give me a geography test; no bonus dice this time around. tactical knowskills will be good though, if you have them."
«Auto-Judge[]» Slinger (#69) rolls Geography + Karma Pool: 1 for "KP 2/21":
1 2 2 3
«Auto-Judge[]» Slinger (#69) rolls Geography + Karma Pool: 1 for "KP 3/21…":
2 3 10 15
«OOC» Slinger says, "I'll take door number 2, Bob :)"
*-OOC-* Adam says, "The dice love you, mang"
«OOC» Johny says, "Whoa."
«OOC» Johny says, "Well fuck me running."

Weeko looks over the map and while finding it quite interesting, she's quite clueless, what she looks for, reading a map for tactical purposes never having been a thing she had to do. So she asks Slinger instead. "Well…Id prefer ter have a point dat we kin block up inobviously inna way 'em jus' will start ter pu da stuf away…I'm thinkin' 'bout a bridge or narrow passage…ya see somethin' onna map? Dis 's jus lins on paper fer me, sorry."

This is what you call inspiration; tactical brilliance comes in fits and starts; and the start is here; the fit is there. This is also an abuse of the simicolon; but enough about that.

Slinger eyes the map now. He shifts it's view to the trid screen, whre he can see it in three demensions. He rotates it, staring at it… and then he turns it just so. A ledge over looking the road as it comes around a corner; protected by the corner from view, with thick brush cover for bio-mass…

Slinger grins as he sees the ledge, and points to it. "Right here. Shielded from view, around a corner. We'll set up the trap right here. I'll be up there … or we could potentially collapse the ledge. No way to tell until we get there." He nods firmly, glancing at the others. "Unless you have a better idea…"

Adam looks over the logistics. He does not answer immediately— exploring other options before saying, "That does appear to be a good place to lay them down. I don't see any better."

Weeko shrugs, "All I need is some cover and a way ter get 'em ter stop. 'n git away o' da vehicles, so I kin sabotage, put a charge on, or whateva ya want done…."

The plane passes over the Atlantic, 4 hours out from the theater now.

Slinger pauses for a moment. "Next question is, will we get the resources we requested? If we do, I think we can pull this off." He considers something, glancing over at Adam. "You can't summon anything, right? Or did I misread your aura?"

Requested items would be on the ground when you land. Only your not landing; so that sort of gums up the 'getting supplies' thing.

Adam notes, "Misread the aura. Full Hermetic Elementalist. I can summon, in fact I can summon Water Elementals very well. I just do not have any 'at the ready'."

On the astral, Slinger looks like a relatively weak mage. He's got the whole Hermetic thing going on, but he's really not that powerful. You're probably more powerful than he is, by the look of it. Though there is that pair of dice hanging from a necklace around his neck. One is a sustaining focus, the other is nonmagical. There's also a nipple ring under his clothing (sustaining, F4), a bracelet on his wrist (anchoring, F6), a wand that is on his belt (sustaining, F3), and a pendant next to the die (sustaining, F6). None of these is currently active. His mood is relatively calm. He has no bioware or cyberware, and his lungs show the taint of a heavy smoker.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License