The Screaming Sky - DM Downrightamazed

Game Master downrightamazed

"A screaming comes across the sky. It has happened before, but there is nothing to compare it to now." -- Thomas Pynchon, Gravity's Rainbow


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@John and @Alastair: Al-Khidr laughs politely, a soft and throaty chuckle. "Mr. Cadwallader," he begins "I owe you an apology. The 'Godess of the Night' of which I speak is only our own Miss Nyx. Her name is from Greek mythology, the goddess of the night, of the dark, the mother of Hypnos and Thanatos. In our current incarnation, it is her hope that the group of you can perform the duties of both her mythological namesake's sons." He gives a mellow smile. "I am permitted to answer certain questions, if you have any more. If not, I will be on my way and leave you to peruse the assignment dossier. Oh! And, Mr. Cadwallader, if Mr. McNaught here has not already dealt with securing your PCPUs, that can certainly be arranged for by your staff in Abeche."

Airfix comes down from the jacuzzi and fixes herself a drink after exchanging greetings with Al-Khidr and questioning looks with the two of you.


I'd say wheeled vehicles, Mecha/engel flight, and large a-pod transports.
Pilot:3d10 ⇒ (5, 8, 5) = 18 keep the two 5s for a total of 20

Kyra throws the car into 1st gear and quickly peals out across the parking lot in hopes of smashing into the sandman (while hoping to not die in the process...).


Male Nazzadi Sergeant Major

The rules state that initiative is redetermined the beginning of each round? Eitherway, I'm declaring two actions this round.

Also, realised I should have added my perception onto that marksman skill roll, which would have bought it up to 21.

Devereux pulls back behind the curtan when Winston throws the grenade, hearing the pop he leans back out again, this time taking his time to draw a bead on the alien creature, watching as Kyra rams their car into it.

First round aiming, second round firing.
3d10 ⇒ (9, 8, 1) = 18 => 9+11=20


Sand Man Dodge: 3d10 ⇒ (6, 10, 4) = 20 => 10 + 7 = 17, not gonna make it.

Devereux, Cythery, and Winston watch as the big luxury vehicle rockets across the parking lot, its 0 to 60 time isn't very impressive, and it feels like an eternity for the thing to get across the lot. As the Sand Man starts to reach out with its chitinous hook-hand, Kyra plows into its leg. The weird gil-slits on the side of its face open wide and a large quantity of Winston's pepper spray blasts up into them. There is a hideous shriek that seems to come from the air, the walls, and all around you, and the Sand Man suddenly shifts into a being made of sand and explodes with a concussive blast that shatters Devereux and Winston's window all the way, and sends a small mountain of sand into their room. The same thing happens in Kyra and Cythery's room as literally a ton or more of sand flies in the open balcony door.

While both of your rooms are now complete messes, the bulk of the enormous pile of soft and tractionless desert sand that used to be the sand man has fallen on the car, causing Kyra to struggle and fight with the wheel just to keep from spinning out or rolling it.

Kyra I need a DC24 Pilot check to keep control of the vehicle.


I'm thinking we might need to ignore that part of combat it will make combat last forever in a pbp. Imagine having to wait for everyone to do initiative checks every turn. Just roll once and keep initiative static throughout a fight. It probably works irl but in this setting it seems like a huge slow down.

Pilot:3d10 ⇒ (1, 7, 5) = 1310 = 10


Urk. Time to hope that supposedly legendary Pioneer toughness is enough. Also, assuming we've dropped out of combat time...

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

Gagging over the lingering cloying smell of the Bugkiller manufactured chemical spray, Winston staggered away from the shattered window, feeling a thin rivulet of viscous liquid slowly make it's way down his forehead and the salty copper tang of blood in his mouth.

Superficial.

Still clutching the little taser like his life depended on it, he snatched his PCPU from where it had come to rest half-buried in a pile of sand.

Well... that explains why they needed those Engels...

The screech of the Pioneer's tires against the asphalt jolted him back to alertness.

They'd said Engel pilots were crazy... They were probably right... Regardless Kyra had probably saved their collective bacon - and now he was in trouble...

Shoving the door aside with his shoulder, Winston set off in a loping run in the direction of the out of control Pioneer.

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

If we're in combat time, it's a double action to run after the out of control vehicle.


Male Nazzadi Sergeant Major

The blast and mountain of sand knocked Devereux onto the ground, where he lies shocked for a few seconds. The squeel of tires and Winstons movements kick him bzck into action and he
stumbles to his feet, coughing up sand. Leaning down to retrieve his sidearm he sets off to try help Kyra with his vehicle.

Athletics - 2 Actions 3d10 ⇒ (4, 4, 1) = 9 => 8+5=13


@At the hotel: out of turn-based combat
Vehicle landing, 1-25=upright, 26-50=passenger side, 51-75=upside-down, 76-100=driver's side: 1d100 ⇒ 77
Kyra DC15 Strength feat test: 2d10 ⇒ (8, 4) = 12 => keep 8, + 5 = 13
Kyra DC15 Tenacity feat test: 3d10 ⇒ (2, 2, 2) = 6 => keep 6, + 7 = 13

There is a brief moment where it looks like Kyra is going to pull it out. The big vehicle sort-of catches in the sand and he counter-steers with astonishing agility and skill. Unfortunately, in this case, the bare parking lot is more of a threat than the sand; Kyra's technique works perfectly in the mushy and tractionless sand, but then the Pioneer's tires catch blacktop and the Nazzadi Engel pilot gets "maytagged" as the vehicle pops immediately over and rolls across the parking lot at a sickening rate of speed; once, twice, thrice...a total of six rollovers.

The big luxury-class vehicle almost ends up upside-down but creaks over one last time and lands on the driver's side with a sickening crunch. There is glass all over the parking lot, mixed in with giant drifts of sand that cover the lot, other cars, and the indifferent hotel garden. It is this scene that Devereux runs out onto, Winston shortly behind him. There is a splash of blood against the spiderwebbed windshield and no sound at all coming from inside the Pioneer.

@Cythery, @Devereux, and @Winston: you each take 4 points of damage from glass and sand slicing into you. @Kyra you take 2d10 ⇒ (5, 7) = 12 damage and are unconscious.


......cough.....I think a 1 on the landing but a 9.3 for style...and were definitely not getting our deposit back now...


Kyra codename Viper XIII wrote:
......cough.....I think a 1 on the landing but a 9.3 for style...and were definitely not getting our deposit back now...

[ Dr. Peter Venkman ] I'm gonna take back some of the things I said about you, Egon. [pulls out candy bar] You... You've earned it. [ / Dr. Peter Venkman ]

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

Wish I had a crowbar damnit...

There wasn't time for such niceties. Seizing a decorative statue from the now innundated garden, he slowly worked at the shattered glass, methodically pounding through and clearing section after section, careful to avoid spalling the shattered glass inward into the vehicle. The tiny fragments of shattered glass abraded at his feet, but for the moment, he had more pressing concerns.

"Come on tinman... Let's get you out of there..."

Raising his voice to a shout, he added for good measure.

"And SOMEONE GET A DOCTOR OUT HERE!"

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

@ Everybody: Going to clear the glass and get Viper out through the front windshield as fast as possible. As soon as Winston can get him clear of the vehicle and put him down somewhere comfortable, he's going to in this order:

(1) Call an emergency number on his PCPU if nobody else hasn't already done so.
(2) Snag a pair of sand samples from the carpark and his hotel room and stash them in his luggage.
(3) Patch a secure line to the Train Group through Airfix's PCPU, beginning the call with what appears to be a casual invitation to a private "Backyard Barbecue" - a fairly common euphemism for a Hot L.Z.


Male Nazzadi Sergeant Major

Reaching the car Devereux assesses the damage, and joins in with Winston pounding the glass with the butt of his gun.

When a way is cleared he crawls in and looks Kyra over, trying to assess if it is safe to move him.

Not sure if it is an appropriate use of survival, but I couldn't find a dedicated "Doctoring" skill so here's a survival roll.

3d10 ⇒ (7, 8, 7) = 22 => 14+8=22


Cythery watched in horror as the car crashed. The glass flew into her skin like needles to a pin cushion. She tightly shut her eyes only for a moment, just long enough for the searing pain to leap through her muscles and sing it’s presence to her nerves. She opens her eyes and all the physical pain fell silent; everything except the aching notion that her husband was in that car. She felt as though her heart sank beneath the ocean and her sight went white with alarm. Everything around the car was a blur. Her body took over and she sprinted over to the crash. Her feet carried her as if it were the wind and she a lifeless leaf. When she arrived she didn’t even remember how she got there. She felt her throat start to tighten as her muscles went stiff while trying to swallow back a burst of panic. She felt her skin turn white at the sight of Winston and Devereux trying to break the glass. She was more impatient than a mother in labor.
“I-Is he alive?”
Her lips could barely make the words come out. Of all the things she had ever seen or experienced, this was the worst for her. She tried not to think negatively but anticipation smeared her senses and toyed with her emotions.


Alastair mentally scolds himself for not realizing the reference while keeping his features totally neutral, he isn't surprised at their references and is somewhat intrigued by what al-kadir said. "I see, you'll be the first to know if I have any further questions. I will save anymore until after we reach our base in Abeche and have some time to get acquainted with the setup there." Nyx was proving to be more interesting then he first thought, despite the pain in the rear she was causing all of them. He hoped that Kyra and them were having a decent drive at least.

"My apologies John, you are our SME when it comes to a lot of our personal tech and more. I would like to discuss, or even learn how to secure our electronic gear if you don't mind teaching me the basics." Alastair was humble with his request, as the years and way people lived changed, he had found it harder and harder to adapt or learn all the new ways of 'living'. Being a soldier was easy, learning how to use some of the tech around him was simple enough but to do anything advanced with it... Well he left that for specialists and paid for those services because he had lacked the time before.

However, this mission had changed that and now he needed to learn how to become multiskilled. Especially if they lost members along the way. There was no room for error and no time to be relaxed anymore. Perhaps it was time for him not only to focus on his advancement in the NEG but to get involved with Clarkson again...


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Alastair Cadwallader wrote:

He hoped that Kyra and them were having a decent drive at least. Hopefully their trip was going well.

Yep everything is going smoothly, nothing but sand, sand, and more sand...


Male Nazzadi Sergeant Major
Kyra codename Viper XIII wrote:
Alastair Cadwallader wrote:

He hoped that Kyra and them were having a decent drive at least. Hopefully their trip was going well.

Yep everything is going smoothly, nothing but sand, sand, and more sand...

Wishes for a Facebook 'Like' button...


Devereux Atkinson wrote:
Kyra codename Viper XIII wrote:
Alastair Cadwallader wrote:

He hoped that Kyra and them were having a decent drive at least. Hopefully their trip was going well.

Yep everything is going smoothly, nothing but sand, sand, and more sand...
Wishes for a Facebook 'Like' button...

Well, you can mark it as a favorite; that's what the little "+" is under the "Reply" button in the upper right of each post. :-)


John's immediate concerns are about operational matters... "Nyx mentioned sites and artifacts, but no details. What exactly is this job, what are we looking for? Who are all the players in this; will we be the only team in Abeche searching for these artifacts? What kind of support will we have once we arrive on-site?" At some point in the conversation he pulls out the list of names and numbers that were in the envelope and inquires, "Who are these people? And what about these phone numbers?"

Focusing on the details and taking copious notes helps John to avoid looking at the anomaly on al-Khidr's shoulder. He considered relaxing his grip on the spell and allowing the vision to fade, but without knowing what the think was or what it was capable of he didn't dare. With gritted teeth and the taste of bile in the back of his throat he pressed on with the conversation.


Devereux Atkinson wrote:
Not sure if it is an appropriate use of survival, but I couldn't find a dedicated "Doctoring" skill so here's a survival roll.

The skill you're looking for is Medicine, Survival won't apply here. It's a professional skill, obviously, but of course Drama points can increase your dice on that.


At the Hotel:It doesn't take too long for Winston and Devereux to pop the windshield, then with agonizing slowness they carefully extract the unconscious Kyra, careful so no one gets cut any worse than they already are. The commotion has awakened many folks who were asleep, and mobilized others who were awake anyway. Several ground-floor guests come out, looking in confusion at the giant piles of sand and the rolled car.

One older woman, who you'd peg for ex-military or at least law enforcement/IFR, comes hustling up to you. She immediately kneels at Kyra's side and checks his pulse, then looks over his wounds. She yells back at a bewildered-looking teenager. Her voice is loud and forceful but calm and in-control. "Jeremy! Get my kit! Now!" She looks at the three of you. "Is this guy a friend of yours? What the hell happened here?"

DC18 Observation:
Something's not right here. The people wandering around look too confused, rubbing at their eyes like sleepy children and moving slowly and aimlessly. They all seem to be coming out of it, but much more slowly than you'd expect adults would. Even this woman tending to Kyra seems like she should be moving faster. It's like everyone's just waking up from a deep, deep sleep. Or hypnosis. Or...something.


Jeremy... Jeremy... Again with the Jeremy...

Misdirection + Presence
2d10 ⇒ (8, 2) = 10
Keep: 8. Total: 8 + 5 = 13

"Guy was driving fast when he hit the sand and flipped." Didn't make sense to show any more of the cards he was holding. He gestures to the Cythery and Devereux. "We were the first people on site." Which was also true... Sort of...

That's it Winston. Keep talking...

He reached down and grabbed a handful of the sand. "Where the hell did all of this come from anyway?"

Glancing in Devereux's direction, he reaches to scratch his head in confusion, surreptitiously signing cover this area to the Nazzadi Sergeant Major.

Trusting his height or lack thereof, Winston begins to push into the crowd, hoping to disappear out of sight to make a rather important call.

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

Observation + Perception
1d10 ⇒ 3
Keep: 3. Total: 3 + 8 = 11

I see nothing, I know nothing, I did not even get up this morning.


At the hotel: The lady seems to take you at your word, busy as she is concentrating on Kyra, and you are able to slip off. She turns to Devereux and Cythery and says "He's gonna be fine, but unless you get him to hospital to re-do these bandages it's going to take a couple weeks for him to recover. I've done what I can but a couple of these lacerations are really deep. Glass is brutal. He's full of meds now so he'll sleep it off, but he's gonna have one doozy of a headache when he wakes up. He's safe to move, so I'll help you carry him to your room if you'd like." She takes stock of the pair of you before her. "You're both pretty scratched up, too, now I look atcha. What happened? You weren't in the car, were you?"

A curious crowd has gathered around. They seem drawn to the sand, somehow. Some are putting it in jars, others are just laying in it, as if it's bringing them relief.

Winston feel free to proceed with your call, if it's something you wanna RP it out...


In the train: Al-Khidr smiles at Alastair, then turns to John, to address his questions. "I suppose the first thing I need to clear up is this; Abeche is your new base. It is your center of operations. All of you have been transferred out of your respective units and into this new center of null ops. At your base you will find technicians, researchers, assistants...all the trappings of an NEG base. There are heavy transports available to you and only you, clear and secure comm channels and satellite uplinks, a wide array of weapons, the works. The names and numbers are contacts; ways to contact me, mostly, but other...specialists as well. In short, Mr. McNaught, you will have a great deal of highly-trained, expert support on your arrival."

Agent Green uncrosses and crosses his legs. "There is nothing for you to find in Abeche except your contacts and your new base and I suppose some decent restaurants. You have your own rooms in the base though if you wish to take an apartment in the city -- " here he gives Alastair a pointed look "-- that is purely your concern."

"As for sites and artifacts, I do not know the details of any of your assignments. I'm sure you understand. I know only that certain things must be retrieved and contained by you before the Migou, Dagonites, or any of the other half-dozen warring factions do so. That, I suppose, answers your other question; you are most certainly not the only team looking for whatever it is Nyx is going to have you chasing around the globe after, but you are the only NEG team."

Agent green turns serious. "You were hand-picked, you lot, for this assignment based on criteria I cannot even imagine. A great deal is riding on your success. I do hope you come through. Sincerely." He gives a little nod.

The train rockets through the night.


Male Nazzadi Sergeant Major

Devereux picks up on the sign, and returns his attention to the injured Engel Pilot, keeping one eye on the gather crowd. Shoulda taken the train after all, these people are starting to give me the creeps... He thinks to himself.

He snaps out of it at the ladies words, 'Thank you for your help, but if you could find a stretcher myself and.' he turns to Cythery, 'I'm assuming you're the wife? can manage carrying him up to his room.

'I can't speak for anyone else, but I was woken by the noise outside and went to look out my window when something hard hit it, maybe a rock kicked up from the tires? I don't know, but it shattered into me. I ran down here as fast as I could to help.

Persuade as I'm telling mostly the truth.
2d10 ⇒ (2, 8) = 10 => 8+5=13


Winston ducked around the side of the hotel, finding a nice poorly lit spot where he could put his back to the wall.

He tapped the device and the little PCPU screen lit up, flashing a little password box and a holographic keyboard. Winston ignored them. Back when he'd worked for the Corp, he'd left the visible security features as an obvious decoy for any corporate ninja attempting a brute-force approach to data theft.

"Ning Wei Tai Ping Gou, Bu Zhuo Luan Shi Ren"

Better to be a dog at peace than a man in troubled times.

The little PCPU hummed momentarily, it's processors whirring as they processed the password.

"Password Accepted" the device flashed, the security screen fading away to reveal the device controls.

"Babe..." He slurred, hoping he sounded sufficiently drunk, "Been a long time since we danced the tango... How you doing pretty girl...?"

Normally, when they tangoed, the Bugs, Fishies or Kaos Kids obligingly provided the dance partner... this was new...

"Heard you guys were going to a private backyard barbecue. We might not be able to make it... Damn, did we get smashed... The rest are sleeping it off..." He paused for a a moment to let the point sink in.

You're walking into a Hot LZ. We took a beating and can no longer make rendezvous. We have wounded.

"Don't be mad babe... Call us when you get the chance... I'm just dying to hear your voice again..."

It was an innocuous, albeit offensively misogynistic, message to the unacquainted, but given what had just transpired, he didn't feel confident just calling. He ended the recording, tapping the 'send' key with a sense of finality, hoping that whatever network John had rigged up carried through on it's end.

Come on Chelsea... Don't let me down here...


The comm security is one of the things that slipped through the cracks when we skipped ahead from the conference room. John has the cash to buy the best security software on the market, and almost the whole day to configure it. He'd take his time to do it right, double and triple checking every setting then conducting penetration tests himself to make sure everything was rock solid (4x as long = +6). If you'd rather I handle it as an extended test, just let me know...

Intelligence + Computers = 6 + 6 + 3d10 ⇒ (3, 10, 4) = 17 = 22 + whatever the modifier is for throwing a lot of money at security software

@DM:
I also wanted to make sure John was able to mail that package to GIA headquarters. I never got around to mentioning that he was doing it in-character...


Alastair relaxes in his seat and finally removes his hand from his holstered Defender, he returned Al-Khadr's smile with a dark smile of his own before leaning his head back as he mumbled quietly to himself. "Tada gan iarracht, finally another challenge." It was hard for him to take the world seriously, the only drive he had in a long time was to advance in rank to the point where he could do something within the NEG and even that had fallen to the wayside because of his blundering.

Gaelic Translation:

"Nothing without effort."

This Mission gave him more of a reason to pull himself out of the grey mire that life had recently become. He had been blundering so much lately that he was surprised he hadn't accidentally offed himself and ruined his agenda altogether. Clarkson's was self supporting, he had seen to that before he had stepped out of the spotlight and let the younger generation step in. Ever since then though he had allowed his skills to fall to the wayside, without a challenge he was bored, merely fighting his way through each day and hoping to make it through the next battle unscathed.

He'd been lazy and that was going to stop. Tonight. He leaned forward and hooked his PCPU to the temp PCPU that Al-Khadr had set on the table. He initiated a download and uploaded a copy of the files that were on the temp so that he didn't have to hunt it down later. "I look forward to meeting our new staff and perusing our BoP once we get there. I am most interested in thwarting any who would use these artifacts to harm humanity, especially the Migou. I have a few more questions for you Al-Khadr, with all this activity going on in and around Abeche how is the local powers taking it? Do we need to worry about the mayor, police or other outside interests disrupting the flow of our mission? Or do we need to pay them off as well?" Alastair watched the man closely, his smile faded into a thin line, as he tried to get a read on this Agent Green as he added. "Despite the ample funds that we've been provided, I have enough at my disposal to buy some allegiances if a temporary take over is needed. I'm not aiming to disrupt Abeche mind you, only ensure that we have adequate control in case we need it."

The only way to win a war was to think big, train hard and plan your strategy accordingly. If you didn't consider each piece on the map then you left yourself open to failure and if the politics in Abeche were a problem, then they would have to remove it from the equation. He would have to look into the powergrid as well if their base wasn't running under off its own system.

We have a lot of variable's to consider starting off. This is going to be interesting...


This is shaping up to be one hell of a promotion!

The thought strikes John as funny, but he doesn't let the smile move to his face. Instead he finishes his glass of ice water and stands up to refill it. He continues the conversation as he walks around the room...

After al-Khadr answers Alastair's questions John says, "Thank you, that information makes the past week much more understandable. I suppose I only have one more question; what is that *thing* on your shoulder?"


John Mcnaught wrote:
The comm security is one of the things that slipped through the cracks when we skipped ahead from the conference room. (etc...)

Oh, sorry; this is all fine, we can handwave it all. I really really like the idea of you guys using custom comm devices John made rather than what Nyx provides, I think it's awesome. So yeah; you have that. All done.

John:
Yup, package shipped. No worries.


At the hotel: With assistance, you get Kyra back inside. Winston's business acumen and "corporate sense" helps you get new rooms without too much of a fuss, though it's obvious the hotel is trying desperately to figure out how to charge you for what they can only explain as having been a freak sandstorm.

You awake a bit later in the morning than you'd planned, everyone sore and logy from the early-morning "incident". Kyra is awake, thankfully, the meds and bandages from the EMT/IFR lady apparently having helped quite a bit. He is still beat up, though, and it is obvious she was right; you should seek more thorough medical assistance in Abeche.

As the four of you gather in the lobby, you notice no one is talking about last night's incident, but then why should they? The official story is "drunk guy crashes car in parking lot" and the sand is waved off as just weird weather. Still, you can't help but notice that some folks are walking around cradling jars of sand, sand that used to be the Sand Man's body until Kyra dusted it with Pioneer.

Speaking of the rental car, a quick check shows that the Pioneer still starts and runs, and seems to be drive-able.

Make one Technician roll. Read the highest spoiler (and ONLY that spoiler) that your roll qualifies you for.

DC12 Technician:
Car looks fine to you. You should drive more slowly, but you'll make it.

DC17 Technician:
Something's off about the Pioneer. You can't quite put your finger on it, but you don't think you should drive it.

DC22 Technician:
There is a hairline crack in one of the axles and a shattered motor mount. This thing is a death trap. You MUST get a new car.

Also, everyone take back two HP. Kyra, I believe this puts you back in "flesh wound" territory, yeah?


@Winston only:
You receive a reply from 'Fix; she is bored, mostly, as Alastair and McNaught go through various preparations she doesn't really understand. She reads your message loud and clear, though, and will keep in touch.

At least someone's having a nice vacation.


@Alastair: Al-Khidr's eyebrows shoot up and he smiles with what could almost be described as mirth. He leans forward in his chair. "My dear sir," he says quietly "you 'need to worry' about everything." He then sits back again. "You can trust no one. Not me, not Nyx, not the NEG, perhaps not even each other. But you already know that, don't you? You've been sighing on that since forever. You can trust no one, but you must work with someone if this is to be done, and it must be done. Besides, 'trust' and 'reliance' are very different things."


@John: Agent Green gives you a stern look. "I am certain I don't know what you're talking about, Mr. McNaught."

John only:
The thing suddenly starts pumping a large amount of some kind of vapor into the air. You can neither smell nor see it with normal senses, you can only detect it via the eldritch plane. The hideously flabby tongue-appendage stops rubbing the back of Al-Khidr's head and instead wraps around his neck.


John's lips draw together in a narrow line as he thinks for a moment, then nods sharply- "Of course you don't, Mr. Green. I won't take any more of your time, good day to you." John's tone is clearly one of dismissal.


DM Downrightamazed:
Winston has his own tightly sealed jar of sand. Should he be walking around in a semi-daze too?


Al-Khidr's reaction made Alastair's smile broaden. He had thought of something witty to respond with but left it only at a silent smile as John dismissed the man.

After Al-Khidr was gone, Alastair made sure the hallway was clear and their door was locked. Sitting back down he looked to John and Chelsea as he considered some of what Al-Khidr had said. "Perhaps I will look into getting an extra apartment or suite, somewhere useful to our interests. Let me know John if you need any help acquiring the needed equipment, I am sure that my financials may be under scrutiny by Nyx but it may not be monitored by our other opponents. I can also see to having it securely shipped as well, I know a good shipping company."

His smile was warmer with that, albeit, weak attempt at humor. Everything else he had said though was in pure seriousness though. He looked to Chelsea then and nodded to her. "Same thing goes for you and the others as well, if you need something shipped or purchased I will see what I can do. If this mission is of such importance that all the major players are putting there resources on the line. Then money doesn't matter, I would rather bankrupt myself then see such items fall into their hands. So please keep it in mind, also I can use what little reputation I have if you need a distraction as well. Consider me... The sacrificial goat if needed."

With that said Alastair activated his HUD and started perusing the data that he copied onto his PCPU that Al-Khidr had given them. He read each file over and committed as much to memory as possible in case something happened to his gear.


After Alastair ensures that al-Khidir had seen his way out John comments, "Poor bastard, they really have him by the goolies. Well, lets see what he brought us..."

John examines the PCPU on the table and runs a series of diagnostics on it before grabbing the data. He's specifically checking for any sort of viruses, surveillance programs, or deleted data that can be recovered. That done, he sits down with Alastair and Chelsea to discuss what they've learned...


Winston:
Nope, you're fine. Funny, that.


Paranoia was usually it's own reward, and Winston hardly felt like sleeping after the little incident, spending the night changing bandages and generally playing nursemaid to the unconscious Kyra.

Chelsea's rather non-committal reply had amused him - the girl really liked her luxuries, he'd give her that. Then again, the five years she'd spent in Armor had never stopped her subconsciously pursing her lips whenever she applied camo paint, so apparently some things never changed. He trusted her to keep an eye out for the other two though and the thought relaxed him somewhat.

He still felt bad about not telling the rest about their encounter directly, but secure line or no, he trusted the local networks about as much as he trusted a Norinco gun - well, actually... you could at least trust the Norinco gun to fail dramatically. Better to handle this face to face.

Regardless, he'd snuck off at night with a couple of discarded medical ziplock bags and collected himself a couple of handfuls of sand from the Pioneer, carpark and rooms. Just to be obsessively thorough, he'd packed up a bit more of desert sand from the point where he'd seen the critters emerge.

He'd labelled them and sealed them away in an overpriced plastic lunchbox he'd bought from a nearby 24 hour convenience store. Winston doubted that a detailed analysis would reveal that the compounds were anything beyond desert sand, but it didn't make any sense to waste a possible lead.

Corporal Martin's comment about the sand being alive suddenly came to mind again unbidden, and he shuddered - Little too close to the truth there big guy.

Dragging his luggage along behind him, he sauntered over to the Pioneer, giving each of the tires a kick, half-convinced that one of them would comically pop off and roll across the carpark. Noting that none of them fell off immediately, he tossed his luggage in the boot, climbed into the driver's seat and started the engine, waiting for the rest to catch up.

The car was testament to the Pioneer's reputed toughness.

Still, he wasn't looking forward to having to explain what happend when he dropped it off in the sub-rental in Abeche.

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

@ Everyone: I'll be waiting in the car. Let's get this roadshow rolling before dark.

@ DM Downrightamazed: No skill, no roll.


There are complications with the car that force Winston to go back to work smoothing his way into a new rental; the group isn't 20' out of the parking lot when a hairline crack in an axle drops them rudely onto the blacktop. This eats up a bit of time and forces a later departure than might be ideal, to say the least. The "car group" thus arrives in Abeche a full day later than they'd intended, and after taking a bit to acclimate themselves, they locate a place to stay and transportation.

The city is of moderate size, with a population in the greater metro area of about 200,000, with another 50,00 squatting and living in solar-powered houses outside the city. There are indeed a great deal of good resources here; hospitals, colleges, some industry, lots of tech businesses, an NEG base(!), etc. Kyra inquires after his old friend Mettle, who lets him know via the grapevine that he'll meet him Sunday night, 9:00pm, in the warehouse district. He provides a specific address.

Overall, there is not much to report. Abeche is a busy but unspectacular town. No sign of conspiracies or dangerous artifacts or ancient ruins are to be found.

Sunday comes, and with it time to meet Alastair and John and Chelsea; their train arrives at 6pm.


@John and @Alastair: The PCPU from Al-Khidr checks out as clean; no viruses, no unwired data, nothing. It's probably a burner and thus started out totally clean.

On it are the exact coordinates of your new base along with an entry code and passphrase for same.

Your first assignment apparently has two parts, which can be completed in parallel or consecutively, no preference is listed. Part one is in Vatican City, in Rome. Recent incursions by the Migou have caused the city to be nearly evacuated, though a certain stubborn contingent of civilians refuses to leave. There is a heavy NEG presence and the entire northeast half of the city is under martial law and filled daily with active fighting. Curiously, a distress signal was sent on an ancient and long-unused military frequency from somewhere deep in Vatican City; satellite and laser locators source the signal to the building known for housing the Pope's private "Secret Archive". The message was sent in Morse code, and reads as follows:

"Finally spoke with Harvey. Said Sullivans all dead. Thank my lucky stars I understand him now. See you for dinner!"

You are to find who sent this, and what the hell they are talking about.

Part two is on an island that used to house a marine national park of the coast of Eritrea, but is now largely abandoned. There has been an upsurge in activity by the Esoteric Order of Dagon around there, and weird x-ray phenomena have been messing with scanners of passing aircraft. It is thought an Artifact is on the island, perhaps suddenly uncovered by recent seismic activity, perhaps the Order knows something. Either way, the island needs to be searched, the source of the radiation or whatever it is that's attracting the Order needs to be located and brought back to your base.


Alastair peruses the mission logs and rubs his chin thoughtfully as the train pulls into the station. "I don't mind splitting up our group to complete mission's more quickly, but both of these mission will require some Engel escorts in case we need some heavy firepower. Especially Vatican City, the bugs presence there makes it a priority to have a super-heavy on local in case they mobilize against us. I admit that I am poor at stealth and if there is a way to get in and get out quietly i'm all ears." He pokes a finger at the data log about the island and its strange phenomena. "I assume we will be flying more on manual in this area. If its messing with the scanners on passing aircraft, gods only know if it will cause complete havoc with our scanners when we are on the ground."

As the others mull things over he taps on his HUD and has his PCPU perform an active search for available penthouse suites in Abeche, preferably one with landing space for his Enforcer. He sighs as he stands up. "I guess we can discuss it more with the others when we see them."

He packs what few possessions he brought along and grimaces at the TopDawg clothing Miria slipped into his clothing bag. She had a strange sense of taste sometimes, or perhaps she was messing with him, he had a hard time understanding that energetic woman. He quickly slipped into his combat armor and elected to keep the helmet off and slung on his side. He strapped his Defenders on loosely on his hips in a gunslinger like fashion and kept an extra set of ammo clips on the belts as well. His permits were placed in another pocket on his belt and within easy access if he needed to present papers to NEG or Civilian Officers. He did, however, keep his sword in his gear bag. Especially because that was really hard to explain to Civi's why he needed to carry that.

As he steps off the train, his military gear bag slung over his armored shoulder along with a small brief case sized suitcase in his other hand. He easily spotted their other companions. Upon seeing Kyra's injured state he grimaced. "You look like hell. I guess next time you'll have to take the train." He looks at Cythera, cracking a small grin which quickly faded as he noticed her injuries as well. "I guess recon didn't go as planned? I've got a medkit if needed. Yeah I know I don't travel light. I've also got a dose of pain killer in the kit if someone needs it..."


Male Nazzadi Sergeant Major

Rubbish piece of junk! can't stand a measly crash...' SM Atkinson rages at the 4WD as it falls to pieces, 'Just what we need after last night.' The lack of sleep fraying his nerves slightly.
At least it'll give me time to grab a coffee now. he thinks to himself and sighs...

When they finally reach Abeche he checks on Kyra, 'Hanging in there soldier? Do we need to find you medical help, or are you good to go on. I don't know if I trust the local hospital or not.'

If Kyra thinks he needs medical aide Devereux will suggest asking Mettle if he knows a good clinic that doesn't ask questions.

Sunday, 6PM

The train pulls into the station and Alastair, John and Airfax step onto the platform, Devereux salutes them smartly as they approach, 'I think you're right there, train would have been a hell of a lot comfier' Winking at Kyra, 'Had vehicle troubles.'

Turning back to Alastair and John, 'But perhaps we are best talking somewhere quieter? We have accommodation.'


"I'll fill you in as we go, but please be aware that if my paranoia is anything to go by, we are currently right in the belly of the beast. Call me crazy later but, for the time being, let's just say that I've developed a new healthy respect for sand." Winston added to Devereux's dry quipp, shaking the little tupperware lunchbox with a thin smile, the feeble rustle of the sand grains inside nearly inaudible against the bustle of the rest of the station.

"Let's get the travelling circus moving anyway... I want to log some Sim time with the rest of you guys before we hit the field... If I'm going to get all of us killed on an op, we might as well make it look professional..." He deadpanned.

"Just make sure you sign the liability forms beforehand." He added, breaking into the slightest hint of a deprecating chuckle.


"Aww and after all we went through last night you go and field now...stupid piece of junk. Oh and by the way I'm done driving I'll leave that to the profesional." Kyra says with a grimace as the rude drop causes his shoulder to ache uncomfortably. Kyra spends the rest of the drive asleep with his head in Cythery's lap.

Upon hearing Alastair when they meet him at the train station. "Oh please take the train and miss all the sights and attractions that the road has to offer I mean honestly where's your sense of adventure. Though it was slightly boring there was nothing but sand, sand, and more sand as far as the eye could look. We even had sand at our hotel if you can believe that...they really need to do more precise cleanings of those places." He says as he gives Alastair the finger along with a chuckle.


Alastair's grimace turns to a small grin, accompanied by a questioningly look at Kyra's comment and a glance at Winston's lunchbox full of sand. He looked back at Kyra as he responded with a chuckle. "At least you recognize who's number one still, so your injuries can't be too bad." His chuckle turns to a laugh as he shakes his head at Winston's comment about liability forms. "Signing forms will have to wait, lets get to our hotel and discuss our vacation plans. Besides I can't wait to see my car, gotta make sure the shippers didn;t dent it up too bad."

Alastair taps his PCPU and searches for who was in charge of transporting personnel at the base and gives them a call. "Hello there Charlie, this is the Sierra club and we've arrived at the station. We are looking for our welcome wagon, we've got some baggage so a Van would be preferable." He goes through the motions with his contact over the phone and gives the passphrase when he picks up on the subtle hint from the operator.


"About that... Car... You might want to have those swept for discrepancies."

He lowers his voice. "Whatever that thing that was we, well more specifically, HE, ran into," He gestures at Kyra, "There were more of them and they were shadowing those NEG mecha transports. So, for the time being, I'm just going to assume everything here is basically compromised upside the head."

He gave a humorless laugh.

"Or it could just be my paranoia kicking in again."


"We have some strange allies on this mission; in all likelihood they were escorting those transports. I'll fill you in once we're somewhere more private, here's some background reading..." John makes a quick gesture on his PCPU and sends the mission files we received from al-Khidr to the rest of the team.


John has no sooner terminated his call when a mid-sized passenger van pulls softly up to the curb where you are waiting. The side door slides soundlessly open, revealing a cool and comfortable interior, the whiff of crisp AC prickling your skin as you step from the lethal heat of Africa into the vehicle. After getting your luggage in and sitting down, you realize the vehicle not only has no driver, but where there should be a driver's seat is just a large box and a series of electronics.

A drone.

There is a brief crackle and a series of 2-D holo projections appear, showing the face of an attractive middle-aged african man. His eyes are shining with the intelligence of the very curious and very smart, and he appears to be in a lab coat of some sort. Safety goggles are dangling around his neck. Behind him is a blank white wall. He smiles. "Ah, hello. It is very good to see all of you; I look forward to meeting you in person. I am Dr. Umaru Musa Yaradua" His voice is mellow and lilts lightly with a Yoruban accent. "This drone will take you to the hive. I will not be able to speak with you all the way back, for reasons that will be made clear later. I did want to at least attempt to reassure you that this vehicle was indeed sent by our mutual friend Al-Khidr and will take you where you are supposed to go. There is cold water in the console storage compartment if you desire it; it is a journey of about one hour from the train station to here, please relax and enjoy the ride. we will speak soon." He smiles warmly and the projections vanish. The van pulls smoothly away and begins to drive you north, out of the city.

If you guys want a chance to talk before getting to the base, feel free to take it, otherwise I'll continue with the trip.

@Alastair: if you wanted to wait for your car, that is of course fine.


Oh crap! My post got eaten! Sonofab@*&%! I didn't even know! I posted a long update yesterday and now it's gone. Grrr... Suffice it to say a drone van picks you all up, and a doctor from your new base communicates briefly to assure you it's all on the level. You get in, and then all this happens. DAMN that pisses me off. I've never had a post just disappear like that. >:-(

The car continues to drive you smoothly out of the city. You pass cafes, shops, an office district, a couple of rougher-looking neighborhoods, then eventually make your way out into open road again. This part of the drive is familiar to the "car group" who just passed this way a few days ago. After driving through open desert for a half-hour or so, there is a roaring noise coming up behind you. A glance out the back window reveals the source; a large transport craft is flying rapidly at your car. There is a sickening moment when it feels like the thing is going to hit you, but it pulls up at the last second and your car is grabbed with a giant *CLONK* as the magnetic grips of the extractor arm pick you up.

The transport flies you along for a short ways, rocketing straight over open desert, taking you far from the road over miles and miles of some of the least hospitable terrain in the world. Eventually, you come to a stop, the roar of the transport's engines deafening even in the van interior. A door opens in the desert floor, letting a very large quantity of sand into what appears to be a big empty box. The transport sets your car down in this box, then flies up and away as metal doors close with surprising swiftness over your heads.

You can feel the distinct moment of weightlessness when the elevator kicks in, and you can see out of the van just fine thanks to numerous soft lights that fully illuminate this giant lift. A weird silence falls over you all as the ride seems to take a longer time than it should. John and Alastair check their modded PCPUs and note that your downward velocity is rather high, and your depth is increasing quite fast. After several minutes you slow down and gently stop. Enormous doors open off the passenger side and you are looking at a gigantic hangar. In this hangar are your Engels and several armored vehicles, notably Rangers like Crash and Fix are used to. All the vehicles appear to be in perfect condition.

This hangar appears to be roughly a mile square, and has a 1/4 mile-high ceiling. Other armor and mecha are positioned here and there, but all are in rather rough shape. Only your vehicles are untouched. A veritable army of technicians is moving around this space, working on various pieces of equipment. Some wear NEG-standard BDUs, others are in civvies.

A few technicians are waiting as the lift opens. They beckon for you to step out of the van.


@DRA: Alastair was calling for a pickup for the party, my bad~ I was trying to be sneaky with Charlie, Sierra and other call signs~ And his Enforcer is back at home. :( Oh well~ On with the fun! This is getting exciting! =)

Alastair is genuinely impressed by the transport swooping in and grabbing them up. It reminded him of events that occurred in his past, things he would sadly never have the pleasure of seeing again. When they were deposited onto the lift, he watched the Transport fly away and mumbled quietly to himself. "Cha d’dhùin doras nach d’fhosgail doras."

Translation:

No door ever closed, but another opened.

He smiled broadly at the sight of Valkyrie in the hanger and was the first to swiftly exit the van, he chuckled as it shifted when he stepped off. He was still clad in his Sentrytech Mk-V Armor as he looked over the nearby technician's with a firm and appraising eye. He steps off the lift and quickly salutes the technicians. "Warrant Officer Cadwallader, F-Gen Seraph class Engel pilot reporting for duty. I would ask what happened to the other pieces of equipment in this hanger but I am more interested in speaking with the CO so we can get acquainted with our new home." As he ended his salute briskly, he stood at attention.

As he waited for a common dismissal, he couldn't help but look at Valkyrie with his peripheral vision. He had a strange longing to be suited up and fighting once more...

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