Contract #4: Formula 42

[Drew Buddy]

Adams leans forward.

"My colleague makes a good point about collateral damage, at least as far as the structure goes. If you're hiring us to retrieve this sample, then that is exactly what we'll do. We can make no guarantees about the state the building itself will be left in."

"Also, you mentioned volatile compounds. What sort of environmental hazards are we likely to encounter inside? What was the nature of the research? Assume for a moment that everything that can go wrong, has gone wrong, and that any failsafes and containment procedures have failed."

[GM Nick]

"Any BioDrive employees inside are to be protected, when possible. The sample is and remains your top priority. Terminating any BioDrive personnel will render this agreement null and void. As for infrastructure... preserve what you can, but we appreciate the type of extraction this is bound to be.

The laboratory levels contain a variety of airborne toxins. It's very likely that one or more of the containment vessels have ruptured."

[Drew Buddy]

Doc frowns,

"So there ARE still employees on site. Damn."

He raises his palms in a half-shrug, "Well, it is what it is. We have a very clean record when it comes to meta-human collateral, so you don't have to worry about that."

[GM Nick]

"Do you have anymore questions, or shall I leave you to prepare?"

[Conway]

Scratching himself behind an ear, Sinjin's eyes are rapt in their scrupulous cataloging of Nayana's alluring topography. A woman like that could addle the brains of any man, save perhaps a eunuch. He doesn't fail to catch a knowing and disapproving look from the woman. Bah.. up yours, corporate stripper...

Two legs of the chair he occupies hang suspended in the air, their impossible lean angle held from toppling backwards by his outspread limbs. At arms reach he grasps a bomber of sake, half full. Balanced atop either outstretched foot reside a book on mixed martial arts and a steaming bowl of his signature noodles. Despite his civilian clothing he sports a brand new armored helmet, the sleek paint and emblazoned Firestarter logo as yet free from the wear and scratches it will earn in its owners service. From time to time, he flips its lid up and down or toggles the knobs and settings of some piece of embedded equipment or another. Sometimes, and usually at the strangest times, the orc could display such momentary bouts of adolescent energy. He never seemed to be aware of the transitions, which only made their occurrence all the more confusing.


Fliiping the visor open, he asks, "Well boys, phony pizza delivery guy it is?"

[Drew Buddy]

Doc chuckles,

"Sure, pizza delivery guy in combat armor, out in the middle of the ass-end of the desert, knocking on the front door of a secret research facility that's under siege by eco-terrorists. Hell, I'd forfeit my share just to see you do that," he jokes.

"Anyway," he says looking around the group, "I think we're done here. Let's get our gear together."

[GM Nick]

Nayana stares into space for a second while the deposit for the contract transfers to Firestarter's corporate account.

"Payment has been made. This constitutes a binding contract. I look forward to seeing you again when you have recovered the sample."

[John]

Before she walks out,

"Will we be able to contact you remotely with any further questions we might have?"

[GM Nick]

"Just use my commlink frequency, I should be available."

[John]

Max nods and says,

"We'll be in touch, Ms. Samran."

Turning to Doc, the elf says,

"When will that chopper be ready for us? We'll need some time with it to load our gear and to get comfortable with its systems. I'm uncomfortable with the idea of heading into the field with a completely unfamiliar piece of equipment-- let alone something so massive."

[GM Nick]

The team heads out the main entrance, gear in tow. The sun is settling in the horizon, creating an inferno of color behind the ever present layer of haze that seems to cling to the skyline. An uncharacteristic mugginess plagues the dusk, feeling much like an omen considering your destination. A much welcome sight is waiting to greet the Firestarter employees.

Sitting in the middle of the courtyard, looking every inch like a gigantic, angry, metal hornet, is Firestarter's newest acquisition--the Nissan Hound helicopter. Her carbon fiber curves are voluptuous and the color of crude oil on the ocean's surface. On top of each landing skid is a brand new Vindicator mini-gun, barrels still chocked with packing plastic. My god it even has a watermark--the Firestarter logo--emblazoned in full glory on the vented cowling. It's simply glorious silhouetted against the sunset, the light doing strange things on her pristine surfaces.

[Drew Buddy]

Doc stops for a moment, and just stares. The clean, unblemished lines of the vehicle-- the newness-- wraps his mind in an almost narcotic blanket.

Doc sets his pack down beside one of the skids, and opens the side door. He steps in and takes a deep breath through his nose.

"It even has that new killing machine smell," he says contentedly.

He steps through the opening to the cockpit, and sits down in the pilot's seat, placing each hand on the left and right control sticks. He gives the anti-torque pedals a press, testing their resistance. Picking a rubber tab left over from the mold off of the collective lever, he turns his attention to the control panel. Lifting up a plastic cover, he hits the onboard computer's main boot switch, and steps back outside while the chopper's upgraded dog-brain runs through its startup cycle.

[John]

Max stands impressed. Taking the mechanical beast in, he turns nudges Doc without taking his eyes off the chopper and says,

"Looks like somebody got a new toy. You need a book to hold in front of your crotch, amigo?"

[Elliott]

Tyros eyes the chopper with a look of appreciation and dread. "Looks murderous. It will probably be the death of us all. Oh well, let's go."

Tyros climbs aboard, sitting uncomfortably in the obviously non-troll ergonomic designed seats. With a grunt, "How long is this flight again?"

[Drew Buddy]

Adams keys his commlink, and sends a remote signal. About 45 seconds later, the steel lynx comes wheeling around the corner.

"We should have room to spare. Someone help me lift this thing up into the chopper."

[John]

Max jokes with Tyros, asking,

"Now Tyros, to sit in an exit row you have to be willing to assist all other passengers in the event of an emergency."

The elf then moves to help Doc. Having spent some significant time getting stronger as of late, Max feels pretty confident with himself.

[Drew Buddy]

The dwarf sized drone safely stowed in the passenger area, Adams ducks back into the cockpit, and settles into the pilot's seat.

He starts flicking rows of switches, running down the checklist. The process is entirely unnecessary; A modern vehicle like this can operate itself by remote, and in fact Doc is more skilled flying aircraft in VR than he is by hand, but there is something all too satisfying about the feel of the mechanical panel, and the physical controls. When everything is ready, he jams his thumb down on the engine start button, and keeps it pressed until the electric motor spins the blades up to a speed that allows the engine to catch.

< Everyone strapped in? > He comms over the increasing noise of the rotor blades.

[John]

Max locks himself into the co-pilot's seat. The elf is by no means a valuable co-pilot, but with the little VR experience he has he might be useful in a pinch. And besides-- his seat seems to reliably be shotgun.

[John]

Max looks out the window at the dust beginning to swirl on the ground and fly away from the motion of the blades. FRSR's employees scurry about the yard to take shelter from the particulate storm.

Looking back to his hands, Max cracks his knuckles and considers his recent training. The elf has spent a tremendous amount of time training in the past several weeks, and his work has been paying off. In addition to being stronger, he has honed his skills in unarmed combat to a point of efficiency that he would never have believed possible in his former life as a simple private eye. The battle with Omega shook him. Of course, no human or metahuman could ever expect to reach superhuman levels of combat efficiency, but it made him realize that he needed to be stronger. Stronger and more precise in his movements. Omega had been a frightening adversary, but nowhere near as frightening an adversary as the ghost currently racing through his cyberware.

Sticking a hand in his pocket, Max feels for the bottle of bliss with a dozen tabs rattling around inside of it. His use had paired back a bit since he rescued his daughter, but his addiction had grown beyond his initial need to quell the emotional pain of his loss. Untwisting the cap in his pocket, Max slyly palms one of the tabs and keeps it in his fist, folded up in his other hand in his lap for a few moments. Looking back out the window, he pretends to be considering the situation. But he's not. Usually after half a dozen beers and two hits he'd be feeling pretty good, but the issue with his brain or ware or whatever continues to rattle him. All he can think about in the moment is the pill getting damp in his hand. Feigning a cough, Max slips the tablet into his mouth amid a few half-hearted hacks. Looking at Doc, Max says with little humor, "Looks like that's my cue." Overstreet takes a cigarette from his pack and lights it. He hopes nobody noticed his adolescent level subterfuge.

[Conway]

Climbing aboard the helicopter, Sinjin slips past Val, pausing to deliver a sharp flick to the back of an ear, before taking a seat opposite Tyosthenes. His excitement is tangible as he stares wide eyed around the interior of the aircraft, his countenance all smiles. Pulling a collapsible magnetic chess set from a small bag filled with explosives and travel snacks, he holds it palm up and eyes Tyros querulously.

[John]

(( lol - what a cock! ))

[Drew Buddy]

Adams turns the old-style twist throttle (an unnecessary feature, but one that he'd insisted on), and pushes on the collective lever, angling the blades downward. The sound of the rotors deepens as the helicopter makes a microscopic hop before pulling itself into the air.

The chopper makes a circuit over Seattle as it climbs, rising above the layer of orange air sandwiched between the ever-present clouds and the ground.

< I'm going to swing us out over the water, then go inland around San Fransisco. I'd rather not cross over the Tir/FreeCal DMZ in an armed helicopter. They'd shoot us down with hardly a warning. At least, I know I would have. > Doc comms to the team, aiming the nose of the vehicle to the southwest.

[GM Nick]

Dawn is breaking, casting an exaggerated shadow of the Hound on the dunes far below. The mojave stretches to the terminus of the horizon where it cracks like old skin, spiderweb fractures in the earth splitting off into canyons and gullies. There is little cover out here, save the errant joshua tree or scrub brush.

Doc banks the chopper and begins closing on the coordinates given to him by Nayana Samran.

[Stephen]

Val's head bobs and rolls to the gentle movements of the chopper. To his comrades, it probably appears as though he's sleeping, save for the occasional flutter of an eyelash or the furrowing of his brow.

Stat1C5hade flits around the barren corridors of the BioDrive facility's VR schematic, attempting to familiarize himself with the layout. The absence of any other icons is somewhat disturbing. Nearly every matrix node is teeming with digital life, but these are the truly the halls of the dead. Stat1C5hade tries to write the omen off as a trick of his mind.

[Drew Buddy]

Doc switches on the signature masking, and drops the helicopter down to 50 meters above the deck. The vehicle skims above the dunes.

< So, what'll it be? > He comms.

< Shall we hit the landing pad? >

Whatever their choice, he knows he'll need finer control over the vehicle. He takes his hands off the controls, leans back into the seat, closes his eyes, and jumps in.

There's always a momentary disorientation when jumping into a vehicle or drone. Your perceptions shift as you gain new eyes (sometimes several of them), and your body changes shape. The engine feels like a ball of knotted muscle clawing the great mass of the chopper through the air. The signature masking device feels like one of the many ancillary organs one gains when inside a drone.

He's used to carrying around and operating smaller drones in his day-to-day, whether the spy drones he's used lately, or the autodocs from his clinic a few years ago. But it has been ages since he's dropped his mind inside something this massive, this powerful.

The twin miniguns feel like fists. Doc has a gleeful urge punch something.

I haven't done this since the war.

[John]

Max expresses some concern,

<While brazenly swooping in on the roof is our style, I think we should get eyes on this place before we land. Why not set us down over there and we'll scope it out to see if we can come up with an initial sitrep.>

[Drew Buddy]

Doc nods, which only serves to swivel the outside sensor cluster. Catching himself, he comms,

< Sounds like a plan. >

The chopper banks slightly, and moves toward the small mesa indicated by Max.

Doc releases the tension in the blades, and brings the helicopter to a rest on the small patch of rock and dirt. Spinning down the engine, he severs the connection with the chopper.

He blinks a few times as he readjusts to the limits of human visual perception. "Let's scope this joint," he says in a slightly hoarse voice.

[John]

Max climbs out of the seat and opens the door of the chopper. Dry desert air hits him hard as sand and dirt kicks up all around him. He is instantly transported back to his last trip to the Mojave-- a trip on which he had a full-fledged meltdown. Trying not to dwell on it, Max unslings his pack from one shoulder and pulls his binoculars from it. The elf raises the binoculars to his eyes and begins to scan the BioDrive facility.

[GM Nick]

The BioDrive facility is a squat concrete rectangle rising out of the desert. It's situated on the back of a ridge, presumably so the subterranean laboratories can vent the dangerous gasses that Nayana mentioned. Both front and rear entrances are completely exposed, with no cover or angle of stealthy approach to be seen. The roof and attached heli-pad are barren as well, though Max can just make out the olive drab of a portable SAM.

The only visible infantry activity is a single La Purga foot-soldier, lazily patrolling the double-glass doors at the front of the compound.

[John]

Max points toward the facility and reports the findings,

"We've got the SAM we were told about and a single sentry at the front door. Take a look."

Max hands the binoculars to Doc and sparks up a cigarette.

[Drew Buddy]

Adams looks through the borrowed binoculars.

"I don't like that SAM," he says. "But unless you want to take a long trek through the desert in the middle of the day, we've got to approach the site by air."

He draws a line through the air with his finger, pointing along the ridge.

"If we approach from the other side of the ridge, we might be able to get close without that thing getting a line-of-sight on us."

[John]

Max nods and says,

"Yeah, sounds about right. Approaching on foot with no cover is suicide."

The elf's eyes narrow as he continues to assess the situation.

[Stephen]

Val rubs his chin and hesitates for a barely-noticeable second before contributing.

"If you can get us within about 4 kilometers of that thing without giving it a line of sight on us, I could try to shut it down wirelessly. How far would you say that ridge is from the rooftop? If we could touch down behind the ridge line I might be able snipe-hack it from the top after a quick hike."

[John]

Max nods in agreement and says,

"That sounds reasonable to me. Come on-- let's work on getting our decker close enough to deck."

[Drew Buddy]

Adams hands the binoculars back,

"Sounds like a plan. In theory the chopper's equipment should be able to defeat most missile attacks, but it's that 'theory' part I don't like."

He steps back into the helicopter, and takes the controls. Once everyone is strapped in, the chopper lifts off and starts moving around the target in a wide arc to the other side of the ridge.