Holes to Heaven, Contracts to Hell

[Veronica]

Firth Mobile Systems Corporate Headquarters, Engineering Building
Leesburg, Virginia

Veronica's business attire hid her pair of customized 9mm Berettas that were snug in shoulder holsters. She wore gloves, and sunglasses that she removed as she stepped into the lobby elevator with a woman known to her as Spectre.

The Calvin Klein dress & suit jacket was simple, and would have looked better with high heels, but Veronica planned on doing some running today. Spectre's dress was similar too, but cream colored. Neither woman spoke, but a grin began to tug at the corners of Veronica's mouth.

Spectre was in it for a cause: to advance mutants, and keep them safe from the paranoid legions of humans who were afraid of what was different, what might be better. She was here at the behest of Saladin, leader of the Brotherhood. Veronica was here because Saladin paid her a stack of of cash, in Euros and United States Dollars.

That did not stop Veronica from enjoying her work. Her feral grin disappeared as the elevator stopped at the basement level. Most of Virginia was relatively stable, and many defense contractors had large, underground facilities to keep their developments as secret as possible. Saladin had expressed concerns (and cash) that one of these new developments was specifically targeted at Mutants. Spectre and Veronica had been tasked with retrieving these documents.

The elevator door slid open to a security checkpoint.

[Spectre]

While still within the confines of the elevator, Spectre had raised her green-eyed gaze to the mirrored ceiling. Defnitely being watched, so now would not be the time to divest herself of the suit, or suddenly pop out of appearnce. Not without causing them a bit of premature engagement with the security detail awaiting them..

Of course.. that was why she was with the young lady in question too. They'd be riddled with bullet holes before they could determine if the lovely ladies were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time, or peddling Mary Kay products..

The elevator door opened and Spectre stepped forward, opting for a bit of discretion. None of the guards were equipped with any of the mind control detection devices that Vanguard had so graciously designed. So far so good..

"Good morning.. I'm Dr. Kane from the QI, department.. This is Miss Young from Insurance.. " Before it could be called in for verification, Spectre wrested control of their minds - all threee of them. The hall beyond was auspiciously vacant of anyone else..

Spectre walked through the metal detection detector, herself unarmed. Once through she unzipped the cream business suit, tucking it into a cabinet beneath the conveyer device for carried items, safe keeping incase she needed to retrieve it on the way out.. Then slid the hood of her own silver-white uniform over her head, if she needed to disappear now- she'd be untraceable altogther.. She'd learned that lesson the hard way after a trip throught he Jericho Center...

"Let's go.. they won't recall that we've passed this way.." The guards were going to sit and begin a debate on their different payscales which would quickly progress into a heated agrument, possibly physical and provide Veronica and Spectre with a handy diversion..

[Veronica]

Veronica was disappointed. While the guards began to argue, she removed the multi-pouch magazine belt and Berettas. She slid them along the rollers and stepped through the metal detector. It did not beep. She returned the guns to their holsters with a little bit of hesitation. If they were dead, it would be impossible for them to recall anything, she thought while buckling the belt around her belly.

She snorted once out of earshot.

“Shooting them would have been easier.” Veronica said. She was not usually known for her subtly. Her straw-haired companion looked amused. Veronica could “see” the surrounding offices and the people in them as they walked down the corridor until it dead-ended to a T. “Advanced Engineering Concepts” was to the left. She slipped one of her guns out of her coat and began to screw a silencer onto the end of it. They stopped at the lone door in the corridor. Just from her walk by, she knew they had enough emergency food to last weeks, plus showers, bathrooms, even a fully equipped laundry room. Perfect for the shut-in engineer working on top secret contracts.


Saladin's extensive contacts apparently had not fully infiltrated Firth. They lacked both the keypad combination and the needed magnetic ID cards to enter the room. After she frowned at the lock for a bit, she glanced up. There would be no help from Spectre this time, Veronica judged from the look on the other Mutant's face. Veronica had her own ideas as what made a good key. She checked that her ear plugs were firmly in place and positioned the barrel of the silenced pistol a few inches from the lock and shot it twice, blowing the keypad to pieces.

“Sonofabitch.” Veronica muttered as she looked at the lock's internals. Sadly, it was composed of high-grade steel, and the actual mechanism was protected by the thick door. The muttering switched to interspersed Chinese and English as she placed a small bit of plastic explosive into the cavity and pointed Spectre to a spot five meters from the door. She wired it to the small detonator that wasn't much more than a 9 volt battery and a large capacitor, slipped next to the wall, and pressed the button.

The small bang was promptly followed by a grunt and the impact of Veronica's foot against the steel door, which sent it violently open. Her foot came down, and she took two quick steps inside. The man in the nearest cubicle began to stand until his head crested the top of the partitioning.

Veronica's pistol yipped, and all that could be heard was the dull thump of his body hitting the desk and partition behind.

[Spectre]

And this was where Miss Veronica's skills would shine like chrome...

Spectre hid a grin pulling her uniforms hood over her features, she shimmered out of appearance. She'd have taken care to stay out of Veronica's line of fire - but the girl didn't miss, or make mistakes. She was that good.

Following her into the secured offices, Spectre kept to the perimeter making sure that no one dared to make an escape attempt. Every single one of these SOB's was responsible for atrocities against mutants and she had not a shred of mercy for any of them.

One rather pitiful looking woman crept from between the row of cubicles. She'd kicked off her shoes, all the better to run? - and was crawling on her hands and knees, head down as much as possible. Her white slip and cheap drug store pantyhose showing from the skirt of her office attire.. Pathetic. Spectre picked up a rolling desk chair and hurled it. It seemingly flew out of no where and crashed into the back of the woman's head knocking her flat. She went still with little more than a groan..

Another would-be escapee - a younger male made a run for it, right into a high and very well placed kick from an unseen foot to the jaw. He flew backward into his cubicle and knocked the partition over, sprawled over it. This was going to be over before it had even begun, none of these people were trained for any sort of defense, they were pencil pushers of the sick and twisted...

[Veronica]

Veronica leapt up, landing on the edge of the cubicle partitions.

“Listen, you pathetic bitches and sons of bitches.” She said while she walked along the edge, perfectly balanced. Her gait was surprisingly quick. Her grin expanded. The wide look in her eyes was full of energy, as if every cell was alive and alert. One tried to make a break for it. He was stealthy, creeping out of the cubicle. She pulled out the un-silenced gun, and shot him through the back of the head without looking behind her. The ear-splitting report froze everyone.

“Very good. Stay very still, or I will kill you. I know if you are moving. I might get bored and kill you anyway. It has been that kind of day.” One man screamed and hurled a chair at her. Veronica leapt into the air, over the chair, and over the chair-thrower. She put a bullet through his head, and landed two cubicles down. Someone else ran into one of the corridors and rounded the corner. As soon as she had a line of sight, Veronica put two bullets through his kneecaps. He began to scream and flail.

“Damn it. Shut up.” She said, and put a bullet through his skull.

“You see? Stay still, and you may see another day. Now, I am looking for blueprints on one of your new projects, your clever projects. Anti-mutant projects. The one with the bio-scanner.” She said, her guns sweeping across the room, each barrel pausing at a head.

[Spectre]

"It's so lovely... Your lack of subtlety.."

Spectre shimmered back into appearance, standing on top of a desk in the center of the room. Her expresssion was one of amusement. She didn't care how many of these people got plugged, after they had the blue prints, Veronica could kill them all, as far as she was concerned...

Her green-eyed gaze settled on one sweaty balding man. His own gaze kept swiveling from Veronica's guns to another location, back and forth. Spectre stepped down from the desk and walked right up to him, one white booted heel pressed against his throat. Her boots were stiletto heeled, and the pressure was increasing the longer he held out...

"Where are they..?" His face went from white, to red and his sweating increased marginally..

More pressure..

She smiled.

"Never mind.." Spectre knew where they were, turning she left him and moved to his cubicle. She yanked open the top drawer of his desk, frowning when it was empty. She looked back at him and tysked...

"Where...are..they?"

His now slightly bulging eyes glanced down a bit from the drawer she was holding open. She looked underneath, it was much deeper than it seemed from looking within. A false bottom? How simple. She pulled the drawer out completely and banged it upside down on the floor. The false bottom fell out, along with several DVD's in and out of jewel cases.

[Veronica]

Veronica raised an eyebrow at Spectre for a moment as she kept a bead on the staff.

One of the female engineers picked up a telephone. She was lifting it to her ear when a bullet ripped through the cubicle wall and destroyed the phone. Bits a few bits of phone became shrapnel and entered her flesh. Veronica cooly walked across the tops of the cubicles until she stopped at the gibbering woman. The phone trembled in her hand.

“ohgodohgodohgodohgodohgodohgod.” Snot dribbled down her upper lip as tears ran freely down her cheeks. The woman was slightly overweight, brunette and almost hyperventilating. Veronica placed the barrel of her unsilenced gun against the woman's head. Her litany became silent, except for the whimper.
http://panicked.org/swf/veronica/1.jpg


“No more clever ideas. I can see all of you.” She said, her other pistol suddenly moving, and shot out one of the florescent lights above someone who had trouble with simple instructions.

“Right now. Everything.” Veronica said. She knew that Spectre had stacked the disks and slipped them into a small carrying case. She pushed the phone out of the hysterical woman's hands. She immediately covered her face and whimpered. Veronica slowly walked towards Spectre. She leaned against the cublicle, and crossed her arms. These people weren't worth the fifty cents per bullet.

“You ready, darling?” She asked her straw haired companion.

[Spectre]

Spectre secured the strap of the carrying case over her shoulder and turned to Veronica with a charming grin as if they were sitting down to a casual lunch and not exiting a mass murder scene.

"Yes, dear. I do believe we have what we came for..."

Stepping over the mess on the floor, she glanced over at the wall clock, wondering if the guards were still at each others throats.

So far this had been easy, maybe too easy for such an important document. Then there was the remaining livestock to consider. The minute they left they would be on the horn with security closing down the building. Probably not a wise idea to leave them living..

"What about them..?", she asked..

[Veronica]

"What about them?" Veronica repeated quietly. "They're not worth the lead."

Spectre frowned, not entirely satisfied with the answer. Veronica didn't especially care.
"Who didn't work on the bio-scanner? Stand up!" Veronica yelled. Most of the staff stood up. Six remaining engineers were sitting. Veronica only had five bullets left in the silenced pistol. It meant she would need to reload. Calmly, she jumped back onto the cubicle walls, and shot the five engineers. The empty magazine slid free from the pistol and clattered against the floor while she reloaded in a practiced, easy motion. The last engineer simply sat dumfounded. His body hardly moved from it's spot, except the now-broken head dipped against the shoulder, to the right.

"The hallway is empty." she said, to Spectre as she casually dropped back to the floor, landing squarely on her feet. Her body barely dipped from the impact.

"It's bugging me." she added, holstering one of the pistols, and began to unscrewed the silencer on the other.

[Spectre]

"Oh, well if it's bugging you.. by all means.." Spectre rolled her eyes sarcastically, backing up toward the hall.

She'd have much preferred shooting the rest, but they were paying Veronica a pretty penny to complete the mission, and she would need her ammo to do that. Spectre wasn't in the habbit of telling other people how to do their jobs - providing they did them correctly, as she did hers.

"Alright the rest of you.." Veronica rounded on the last remaining workers, who all flinched in response. Pistol in hand, she commanded them quite seriously.. "Go make better refrigerators. That might be helpful."

Spectre nearly snorted, she wasn't so optimistic. Suddenly the lot of them stood. Doing the zombie-shuffle they returned to their seats, righting them when need be. Each sat at precisely the same moment and began working diligently on their keyboards.. They had important memo's to right! Very important and it was nearly quitting time! If they had any objections to working amidst the fallen corpses of the co-workers, some with and some without faces, they were too busy typing to voice them. Spectre and Veronica would be out of proximity before the screaming started..

Spectre grinned at Veronica. "After you, lambchop.."

They headed back toward the elevator just in time to see one of the uniformed guards slam a meaty fist into the face of another with a satisfying crunch. He went down with a thud, and the assaulting guard suddenly looked quite shocked at what he'd done, as did the other third man standing.

"What the hell..?"

"Oh, yes.. That was us." Spectre intoned with a naughty smile.

They each had a bullet between the eyes before they could think to close their mouths from shock. The two females barely broke stride, stepping into the elevator and hitting the button for the ground floor. As the car was reaching it's destination, Spectre pressed the stop button, halting the ascent with hardly a jerk. Without a word she stepped up onto the hand rail, balancing in the corner long enough to lift away the ceiling panel, then hauled herself up in a graceful swing of white clad legs..

"Coming..?", she called down..

[Veronica]

She wasn't especially in a sarcastic mood, so she frowned at Spectre's dismissal of her warning, but followed her to the elevator nonetheless. She pushed the button for the lobby. Veronica jumped, her hands grabbed the edge of the opening and smoothly pulled herself up. Unlike her lithe companion, Veronica was built like a female boxer, compact and powerful, and her movements reflected that. Considering their escapades took roughly six minutes, she half-expected the building to be crawling with the DCPD SWAT. She didn't see any body armor, although the security guards on duty had locked down the stairs and elevator on the lobby floor. So they thought, anyway.

“Going to the second floor.” The second floor was composed of administrative offices and declassified projects. There wasn't anything to guard up there, and, for whatever reason, they were thinking rather conventionally. Probably because Spectre and Veronica were acting somewhat conventionally. Further, they only had solid evidence of Veronica on the camera. They might wonder where the blond woman went, but they'd be focused on Veronica.

The elevator stopped. Veronica switched to the ladder and climbed the extra five feet to the second floor. She pulled the maintenance release, and the doors slid open. Veronica offered a hand to Spectre and helped her invisible self up. Much of the floor had been evacuated after the camera security noticed the downed guards. Veronica half jumped, half pushed herself off the ladder. Once balanced, she ran at the glass windows that looked toward the parking lot and their waiting rental car. Her gun rapped off quickly, putting five holes in the impact glass. Her legs pumped in motion as she fell through the air, glass sparkling around her in the late afternoon light. She hit the ground, rolled, and ran full tilt at the still running rental Mustang in the drop-off lane.

[Spectre]

Spectre followed on Veronica's heels, dropping through the window and landing in a hard roll. It was really a shame she'd been invisible, her form had been pretty snazzy. Gaining her feet she walked forward toward their waiting rental car, and the armed guard already inspecting it.. He was barking into a radio, his attention was locked on Veronica, the only one he could see...

It was nto mercy that he never saw it coming. Invisible hands reached around and grabbed his head, giving it a twisting, yank to one side, hard. He dropped to the ground, his head flopped at a ridiculous angle, the radio hit the pavement and shattered.

Spectre slid into the Mustang's passenger seat, crossing her leg's and leaning the seat back a bit, as if in preparation for a joy ride.. "You drive. I have a headache."

[Veronica]

Veronica slid into the driver's seat, throwing the automatic transmission into reverse and punched the gas. She cranked the wheel around and punched the brakes. Veronica didn't like driving very much, and Spectre knew that. Veronica shoved the car into drive.

"Why aren't the police here?" She said over the V8 roar. She buckled her seatbelt as the car rocketed out of the driveway and into the corporate park's main thoroughfare.

"They're keeping it quiet for their investors." Spectre replied, especially mirthful. Veronica frowned and looked into the rear-view. They were being chased by SUVs. The big, lumbering Suburbans were probably equipped with runflats. Veronica hated runflats.

"Steer. I need to shoot." She said while the driver's side window slid down into the door. Spectre obeyed, grabbing the wheel while Veronica's head and pistol poked out. She methodically shot the front end of the black Suburbans until she saw the trademark dayglow orange of GM anti-freeze streaming out of the lower radiator.

Veronica hurrumphed as she pulled her head back into the car and focused on the road.

http://panicked.org/swf/veronica/6.jpg

A black suburban came flying over the curb and into their path. Veronica could see the windows coming down and the assault rifles behind them.

They weren't without options, though. There was a gap near them to turn into a parking lot to the left. Hard on the brakes, she turned in and barely clipped the rear wheel against the curb. The back end hand gone wide, but the car jolted violently over the speedbump. Veronica plowed through the parking lot flat out. The same height as many of the cars in the lot, none of the men in the Suburban roadblock had a clear shot at the Mustang.

As the last lot in the corporate park, it was doubtful that the private security force would persue them any further. Veronica could practically hear them cussing at the Mustang as it dissapeared into the distance.

[Jan Claasen du Toit]

In the wake of the terrorists, a trio of SUV's thundered on, undeterred by the limitations of private mandate. The lead vehicle clipped the edge of one of the roadblock SUV's, shattering a headlight and cracking the grill a bit.

Jan rode shotgun, noting the incident only with a casual glance at the other security staff, who watched them pass with a sort of quiet reverence.

"Radio the chief that we're going off reservation. Everybody get your game faces on."

The men in the SUV wore low-profile kevlar helmets with removeable faceplates and dragon-skin armor. Each wore an operator's rig with various magazines in pouches for both their main weapons and sidearms, which clung to their thighs in nylon drop-leg gear.

Jan spit out the window, the trailing end of the saliva catching on the low end of his beard before he dropped down his faceplate. He did a quick check on his FN SCAR-H, making sure the mag was topped before throwing the bolt forward and angling the barrel out the window to cover his sector. Each man in the SUV had a sector to cover, which he did with some manner of assault rifle. Usually it was HK 416's or M4's, but Jan and the trunk monkey carried heavier .308 to deal with vehicular threats forward and rear.

The trunk monkey, situated in what could best be approximated as the Suburban's "trunk", also manned the inhibitor, which was new tech from Vanguard. It was an area denial weapon system specifically designed to suppress mutant genetic expression in a target.

"Ok, keep your fire specific but intense. This isn't Ramallah, we can't just shoot any car that crowds us."

Jan glanced to the driver.

"Peanut, I need music. You know that."

[Jack Brocius]

<center>Washington D.C.


Jack was on his way to a luncheon with some Senators on the Armed Forces Committee when he got the call. The facility at Leesburg had an incident.

"You're in pursuit? Who's on it?"
<center>

"Jan's taking Timberwolf squad on pursuit. We're putting a Little Bird in the air and alerting Virginia HP."



Jack was silent a moment, and then snapped his fingers at his driver.



"Get us back on the beltway, and to the landing pad. I want on that Little Bird immediately. Call the Senators and tell them I have an emergency to take care of."
</center>
</center>

[Spectre]

Instinct pulled her attention to the rear view mirror and the SUV gaining on them. She'd done this enough times to know trouble when she saw it, that lead vehicle would pose them the greatest amount of threat. Sitting halfway across the console, steering from her awkward positioning, Spectre narrowed her green eyes on the driver, with every intention of having the son of a bitch plow himself into the nearest convinient wall.

Nothing happened.. Her ability bounced off her target uselessly. She knew they were in more trouble than she'd originally thought.

"Damnit. Vanguard." Cursing them every vile name she could think of, Spectre leaned one hand into the back seat retriving a new weapon for her mercenary companion. A Remington 700 SPS, or so Veronica had been telling her..

She was becoming quite the contortionist, keeping them on the road and swerving through traffic at breakneck speed, while leaning the passenger seat backward. She dropped the rifle in easy reach, then hollered at Veronica to switch places with her.

"We have a problem, Pumpkin.. They have Vanguard crap on board, my abilities are shut down.. Take them out please, so I can go back and run them over."

Spectre was not happy...lucky for them, Veronica wouldn't be so easily negated..

[Veronica]

"Sonovabitch!" She emptied one of the 92s through the rear windscreen. The bullets pinged away as each shot failed to damage the reinforced windshield and grill before the radiator.

Veronica suddenly felt clumsy and nearly blind as she hefted the rifle. She growled out loud, and leaned against the dash. They probably had a hard time seeing so low inside the high-beltline car. With the presence of some miscellaneous traffic, they hadn't started shooting yet. It was a blessing and curse. The Mutant pair couldn't put any real distance between them and the security, and the security wasn't flinging any lead at them, yet.

This would be like a 600 meter shot. It was out of her sensory range now. She took a deep breath and waited for the car to stop dodging between traffic, holding the rifle at the ready. She looked back and forth between the ever-changing road picture ahead and the enemy behind.

Veronica gave up, and raised the rifle.

http://panicked.org/swf/veronica/7.jpg


She held her breath, and waited for the driver's armored head to line up, and squeezed the trigger.

[Jan Claasen du Toit]

The .300 winmag slug punched a neat hole into the sandwiched polymer windscreen and into the driver's kevlar faceplate. The fractured bullet shattered the driver's jaw and severed the carotid artery on its veering trajectory out the side of his face, causing a red spray as the driver clutched at his mouth and throat, hacking and gurgling.

Jan's hand was instantly on the wheel, and he stomped his foot down over Peanut's foot to keep acceleration strong and constant.

"Rear up, hit 'em!"

Jan laid on the horn as the man immediately behind the driver reclined the seat back, applying pressure with one hand to the man's neck while maintaining his sector with his weak hand propping up his M-4.

The Afrikaner mercenary plowed a Nissan Sentra aside roughly as he beelined for the emergency lane, using it as maneuvering ground as the tail end of Timberwolf squad surged on.

With a few seconds of a clear shot, Jan cut loose a sustained volley of full auto .308 fire at the back end of the Mustang. At this distance, not guaranteed to do anything other than to keep the sharpshooter's head firmly behind her seat.

[Spectre]

One second window. Next second - the glass exploded through the interior of the Mustang, showering Spectre just as she was reaching to turn on the stereo. The wind whipped her long silver-blonde hair her in the eyes, stinging them even as she screamed in shock.

"Bastards!" She was over her scare. Now she was good and angry. She shook off the glass and glared hatefully at the vehicle in pursuit.

"Fine! Hang on, Pumpkin..."

Forsaking caution, Spectre took their advantage of speed and maneuverability, plowing straight into the oncoming traffic. Accelerating to ridiculous speeds, she instantly put some serious distance between them and the Suburbans, swerving between honking cars and roaring trucks, until she was on the far side of the highway. They wouldn't be able to stay in the oncoming traffic for long without getting killed, but she didn't need to..

Glancing behind her in the rearview, she felt the difference the moment it hit her, and smiled.

"My turn.."

Both sides of the highway traffic suddenly slammed on their brakes. Turning their wheels to the side, a row - several cars deep, made an effective wall between the Mustang and the Suburbans, halting traffic on the highway..

[Jack Brocius]

Jack hit the ground running at Praetorian's private landing pad. The Boeing Little Bird was already spinning rotors and picking up speed when he jumped out. He unceremoniously yanked off his suit coat as a subordinate arrived on scene to fit him into body armor and a K-pot.

"WHERE ARE THEY NOW?" Jack yelled over the rotor whine.

"WE ENGAGED THEM SOUTHBOUND ON US 15, HEADING TOWARD THE 66 JUNCTION!"

The assistant fitted Jack with more gear, and he quickly trotted up to the skids, where a pilot and skid gunner were ready for him. With little ceremony, he piled into the navigator seat, threw the bolt back on a rifle chambered in .338 Lapua, and made a hand gesture for the pilot to catch air.

Now speaking through a headset, his voice came crisp and clipped through the din of the rotor wash.

"Muscle up every asset we can pull and engage. Get them off the highway."

[Jan Claasen du Toit]

Traffic gummed up in an epic fashion, and Jan kicked Peanut's leg out of the way as he jammed the brake, causing a lurching skid as the SUV knocked a Kia compact out of the lane, sending it into the divider.

"Back them up!"

Jan yelled at the rear passenger gunner, his Afrikaans slurring his voice a bit as the man behind him finally cut the driver out of his seatbelt and lurched him into the back. Jan quickly slid into the driver's seat, which was sticky with blood, just as the rear passenger gunner magdumped his HK 416 into the air above oncoming traffic, making them forcefully take the hint to back off.

"Squad on me, we take next exit. Changing ROE to disable civilian vehicles that do not deviate from sector."

The tires screamed as the Suburban rocked ahead, punching another car out of the emergency lane as it plowed for the ramp.

[Veronica]

Veronica felt as if someone had thrown water over her. She could suddenly see again, and sucked in breath at the sudden change in sensation. Now clear of obstacles, Spectre opted to put as much distance as possible between the Mustang and the SUVs. Both women sat low in the car. Bugs at 100 miles per hour hurt quite a bit. Cars moved aside like Moses parting the Red Sea.

“Haha, oh man.” Veronica ducked as low as possible, lit a cigarette and laughed. She set about checking her weaponry, fully aware that the cars continued to move aside for Spectre. She reloaded both the rifle and her emptied pistol.

“You want one?” She yelled to her straw-haired companion, and took a heavy drag. Spectre shook her head as her hair whipped around the headrest. Veronica's head checked back every five seconds. Where was the Highway Patrol? That bugged her. It was possible that they were tied up in probably the biggest accident in little US15's history. And, unfortunately, a car with shot out windows was rather damned conspicuous. Nothing turned up for several minutes. Veronica lit another cigarette.

In the distance, over the roar of the wind, she could make out the rhythmic chunk of helicopter rotors slicing through the air. Well then. The noise slowly grew louder as the Bell 407 helicopter closed distance with the car, and took up a position behind them, 300 meters back. The pilot whistled appreciatively at the state of the car below.

“This is Heli-One confirming suspect in late model Ford Mustang, color black with gold stripes, copy?” The comm officer reported.
“Copy that Heli-One. Confirm gold stripes on Mustang and plate number, over?” Division Seven HQ's head dispatcher replied. Given the body count and report of small arms in the car, the Captain of the Division was taking no chances.
“Late model Ford Mustang, black with gold stripes, confirmed, and uhh... plate's illegible.” The chopper comm replied, very certain.

“Someone get the head of Hertz's operations on the phone. I want a list of every renter of every rented Shelby GT-H east of the Mississippi.” The Captain ordered at one of the dispatchers.

“How are we doing with that accident?” He asked.

“We got really lucky, sir. Only one fatality so far.”

Veronica was lazily staring at the helicopter. It was a rather nice helicopter, she decided. It would be rather nicer with a hole in the windscreen. She tipped the seat fully back, lay prone, and took aim. She steadied her breathing, delighted at how smooth the Mustang was at high speeds. Veronica squeezed the trigger as the car hit a small ripple in the road. Instead of spreading the pilot's brain through the helicopter, the bullet entered the windscreen three inches above the Com Officer, and exited mostly harmlessly though the top.

“We are under fire, repeat, under fire!” The Comm said almost frantically. The pilot pulled the helicopter away from the Interstate.

“You ok, Tony?” The pilot asked his Comm.

“Uhhh yeah we're ok.”

“Heli-One abandon pursuit and clear airspace.” Dispatch instructed. The Captain swore.

“I want all lanes blocked off before exit 18. I want strips down a quarter mile in advance. Do we have Hertz on the line?”

[Spectre]

Traffic was beginning to become quite thin. It didn't take a mastermind to put together the pieces. Ahead of them they would meet with more opposition. Which meant they were running out of options and she would have to act. The information she carried had to make it to Saladin, that was her priority. The road block was ahead of them, in sight now and they were coming up on it - fast.

"I hate to have to do this, darling.. but you are going to have to drive."

Before the road block were layers of spike strips which would rip the rubber out from beneath them rendering their, very sweet, ride quite useless. Spectre pushed open the door and started to rise, while Veronica slid low into the drivers seat. She stood, on the side of the car, holding onto the roof with one hand, making a visual display of tightening the strap around her shoulder, the case carrying the stolen files. Without a further word to her companion, she jumped and disappeared in mid-air..

The rental car's tires were, as foreseen, shredded clean off and the Mustang limped on, metal to pavement grinding it's way closer toward the waiting road block of some fifteen to twenty waiting patrol cars.

[Veronica]

Veronica let the car go about it's way and stayed hidden below the dashboard. At sixty miles per hour, the tires quickly shredded themselves into oblivion. The car came to a screaming, scraping halt a hundred feet before the blockade. She could hear the racking of shotguns and the screech of an amplified bullhorn.

"We have you surrounded! Come out with your hands up!" The voice boomed. A grin began to form on Veronica's face. She knew where each and every person was. She could see them scurrying behind the patrol cars from the other half of the highway. Two began to move up, covered in body armor, armed with Remington 870 shotguns and M4 carbines.

Veronica's head popped over the dash. Two Beretta's appeared in a blink later, each firing twice, and dissapeared back behind the dash. The Mustang's front end filled with return fire while Veronica slid into the back seat.

Spectre struck suddenly. One of the officers fired into his comrades, killing one and injuring another. He looked incredibly surprised as he was tackled to the floor by a pair of his comrades. Veronica used the opportunity to leap out of the rear window. Bullets filled the air, peppering the Mustang once more. She could smell fuel leaking. Fortunately, real life was not the movies. Cars almost never exploded, no matter how badly damaged the fuel tank. The rifle barrel snuck onto the rear decklid. She lined up the first head and pulled the trigger. The .300 Winchester Magnum slug made short work of the kevlar body armor, punching into the officer's heart. The rifle was pulled back down, and the clink of a shell casing could not be heard over the answer fire. Four officers attempted to flank her. They tried to move up quickly on either side of the car. She immediately shot one with the rifle, clean through the throat. Veronica left the rifle on the pavement, and drew her pistols. She popped up.

http://panicked.org/swf/veronica/8.jpg

She pulled the triggers, perforating two hands. The patrolmen screamed and dropped their weapons. The last was not as lucky. Veronica shot him in each arm, and ducked back behind the car. Ten left. She holstered her pistols, and took the rifle back up. They'd only been at this a minute, and Veronica wanted more, but would need more ammunition. She shot the lock on the trunk, letting it pop up, and pulled out a backpack. She cranked the bolt on the rifle. It spat the empty casing out, and let a new round in. She dropped the mostly empty magazines from the pistols and reloaded those. Spectre struck again. This time, a shotgun, point blank, to the face. Veronica wasted no time. She put the rifle over her shoulder and drew her pistols. She ran at the patrol cars. There was no tackling, just rapid return fire into their traitorous co-worker, followed by screaming and cursing.

Veronica kept her head low as she ran at the patrol cars while the eight remaining officers yelled at each other. Only two had been involved in any kind of serious firefight. The paranoia of having their own turn with no warning had their nerves frayed. Veronica jumped and pushed off the hood of one of the cars, her head now twelve feet into the air. Death spat from her pistols, killing four of the eight remaining in rapid succession. She hit the ground, her leg kicked a shotgun away as she let her body fall in the panicked crossfire.

It was just cleanup.

[Jack Brocius]

The little bird cut the air as it approached the junction. They were a few miles off and the police band was thick in their ears.

"This is getting nasty. We need to filter some intel down through DHS to those guys and keep them clear. Get some static barricades and pull back!"

The chopper pilot tapped Jack on the shoulder, gesturing down. The backed up traffic was leading to a snarling roadblock that had just been the epicenter of a rather one-sided shootout.

"Okay, keep distance to half a click. The inhibitor will keep things running thirty-three, but I don't want to deal with any lucky strays."

The skid gunner nodded gravely as he inspected his SAW. Thirty Three was one of those slang terms used in the contractor fraternity to denote things being about as good as they got. Thirty rounds in a topped-off mag, plus two balls and one swinging rod. That's about as good as you could ask for in a combat zone.

The Little Bird began to circle a perimeter around the combat zone, eager for a target of opportunity.

"That Mustang is slagged. I don't see any bad guys on the deck, so keep your eyes open. Give Timberwolf our vector and have them regroup."

[Spectre]

Shimmering back into appearance in the drivers seat of the commandeered patrol car, Spectre blew out a long breath and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Yeah.. bitch of a headache incoming.."

They'd put miles between them and the scene of the highway massacre. From all vantage points it seemed they lost the heat, for now at least. She adjusted the mirrors and stole a peek over at Veronica who was going for a slightly more official look, having donned one of the wide-brimmed sheriff's hats.

"That's sure to throw them off..." Spectre quipped, removing her cell phone from her pocket and speed dialing the only person who wouldn't be on the receiving end of her bad mood..

"Saladin.. Be there in five with the document. Expect a party."

Not really much else needed to be said.. Well maybe one thing...

"If Arsenal is with you, do tell him that I've relieved the police of another ride and not to bash the window in at us this time.. Veronica might take offense, you know how unstable she is..."

That was as close to humor as Spectre was getting.. She grinned over at her passenger, and continued on toward their rendezvous point..

[Veronica]

She decided that Spectre didn't have a future as a comedian. Veronica straightend her new hat and put a foot on the dash.

"I'm keeping it." She declared with a predatory grin. They were now northbound on I81. She resisted the cigarette that she wanted to suck down as her adrenaline thinned. She drew one of her pistols and inspected it carefully. The cruiser loped along at five over whatever traffic was doing (the speed limit, roughly.) It would take some time before Virginia's Finest realized everyone at that road block was down, and longer still to figure out what car number was missing. They had at least a fifteen minute head start.

"So what's the deal with Shooty and cop cars?" She asked Spectre while she ran a finger across her rifle.

"He broke the window on the last one in his zeal to defend the Brotherhood. I drove the car to a back entrance." Spectre explained.

"Oh." Veronica said, dissapointed it wasn't something more exciting. When Saladin had first hired her, one of his rodent-like lackeys was decidedly too uppity and questioned the value of a mercenary (and her loyalty)
until she picked up the smaller mutant. Veronica had shoved her gun into his oversized ears. Spectre tried to disarm her, but was rather surprised when the gun was under her chin, in a blink.

After Saladin diffused the situation a little further, no one bothered her again. Saladin gave her interesting things that got her pulse moving, so she stuck around. The way things were going, Veronica didn't see it changing any time soon.

[Jan Claasen du Toit]

"Dammit!"

Jan pounded on the steering wheel as he wheeled about. The tires screamed on the Suburban, as he tried to drown out the sound of Peanut gurgling on his blood. The guys in the back had applied pressure, but that was an awful hit to take, and it wasn't guaranteeing anything.

The chatter came in from Little Bird, VHP, and about everybody else on the grid. Jango, the trunk monkey, was tuning through the bands, occasionally stopping on something relevant.

"Bird spotted our Mustang. It's cooked. No sign of enemy contact yet. They're wanting us to pull up to grid 417."

Jan said nothing, tugging at his beard absent-mindedly.

"They're in another vehicle."

It was a gut call, but one that had plenty of logic.

"The roadblock was all VHP guys?"

Jango shouted to the affirmative.

"Radio back and get a head count. Dispatch should have each vehicle on a GPS grid. Follow my hunch."

[Saladin]

"We're ready for you, Spectre. We'll put the dogs off your trail."

The interstate unfolded like a lazy, gray river along the rolling hills of northern Virginia. Saladin surveyed that river through a pair of high-powered binoculars and zeroed in on a lone patrol car floating downstream with the rest of the southbound traffic.

"It's them," he shouted over his shoulder. "A lone cruiser about three miles back. Take us down, Gyro. I'll keep scanning for their pursuit."

The mutant in the pilot's seat gave a terse nod and eased the black Bell 407 down to an altitude around six hundred feet. As the unmarked helicopter descended, Saladin could see the what was left of the highway patrol trying to extract itself from the remains of the roadblock.

The 407 had seen some extensive modification by Brotherhood mechanics like Gyro, including retractable wall panels and military-grade armor plating. It wasn't armed in the conventional sense. But with Saladin aboard, it didn't need to be.

He stood in the yawning hatchway, one hand gripping the overhead railing, the other flexing and unflexing fitfully at his side as he awaited his Praetorian adversaries.

[Veronica]

The black Bell buzzed the highway, close enough for Veronica to "see" inside.

"That's our ride out." Veronica announced. Spectre seemed to light up a little. Up ahead, the helicopter settled in a field about a hundred yards from the interstate, roughly a quarter mile down the road. Veronica popped the switch labeled "EMRG LIT" and the top of the car christmas-treed into a red and blue splash of color. Spectre wove them through traffic. The pair abandonded the car next to the road. They left the lights running, but the car off. It would kill the battery in short order.

Veronica tossed her bags over and vaulted the fence, clearing the barbed wire with ease. Spectre somehow wove her hands between the barbs and smoothly swung herself over. She held onto her new hat as they ducked beneath the still moving rotors.

Spectre hefted the small bag of DVDs. Saladin gave them a self-satisfied grin and tapped Gyro to get the helicopter going again. Veronica had unslung her Remington rifle, in case she needed to use it. Satisfied with her weapon's condition, she put a cigarette in her mouth and began to chew the butt. Saladin handed each a well-insulated headset. The helicopter floated upwards.

[Jack Brocius]

Jack leaned forward and slapped the skid gunner hard on the shoulder, and gestured at 3 o'clock.

"That bird isn't on the DHS grid. Put it down."

The skid gunner charged the handle on his SAW, loading the disintegrating belt from its box feeder. The machine gun came alive in an angry spray of green tracer fire. Jack closed his eyes momentarily, sliding the bolt of his .338 Lapua rifle closed. Even with his genetically augmented senses, he'd need nerves of steel for an accurate shot with this much maneuverability at hand.

[Saladin]

Gyro swore from the cockpit. "We're taking fire!"

Saladin heaved up from his seat and stood framed by the open wall panel. The little bird arced above them like a sparrow marking a hawk - with their superior maneuverability, they could pin the Bel down and keep it from gaining any altitude.

"Swing us around, three o'clock!" Saladin shouted.

He gripped an overhead rail as the chopper spun to put the little bird back in his sights. A beam of crackling green energy lanced from his free hand down, down, all the way to the highway, and seized the squad car Spectre and Veronica had abandoned.

The car hurtled upward like an iron ball at the end of a chain directly toward the Praetorian helicopter.

[Jan Claasen du Toit]

The helicopter swooping onto the roadblock told Jan all he needed to hear.

"That ain't ours!" Jango shouted, holding a receiver to his ear.

Jan already was leaning halfway out the door, training his ACOG weaponsight down the overpass at the scene ahead.

"They're doing a pickup....hang on, we have air cover."

Panning the weapon to the left, Jan watched the Little Bird swoop in, and saw the steady puff of white cordite from the skid gunner's weapon.

He swung around, pointing at the man behind and to his right.

"Gaz, Gustav, pronto!"

Gaz intermingled with Jango, negotiating the heavy man-portable Carl Gustav 84 mm recoilless rifle. Finally extricating it, Gaz eased it out of the side window first, then sat himself with his bottom on the window's edge, so that his torso and the Carl Gustav were free from the vehicle. The wash from the rocket launcher would dissipate harmlessly away.

Jan turned his attention back to the showdown, in time to see a squad car being sent aloft, held fast by a green beam of some kind from the enemy helicopter.

"It's Saladin, the leader!"

[Veronica]

Veronica was across from Saladin, rifle in hand. While the green energy dangled the patrol car, the opposite side of the modified Bell was taking a pounding. She was about to move when she saw a glimpse of the same Suburbans from earlier, and a rather rough looking fellow hanging out the window.

"RPG!" She yelled as flame spat out of the tube. Reflexively, she pulled the trigger of her rifle. The bullet cored a hole through the 84 milimeter rocket propelled grenade, but it few on anyway. Veronica only had enough time to dive into Saladin. The grenade exploded. The patrol car arched across the interstate. It tumbled end-over end through a barbed wire fence, finally coming to rest against a maple. The car stood on it's smashed front bumper, lights destroyed, but some still flashing.

Shrapnel peppered itself against the improved armor of the helicopter, but the open door was an avenue that the flood of deadly metal found. Veronica screamed. She could feel metal in her back and right leg. Her rifle had bounced off the rear of the cabin, and wedged itself behind Saladin and Spectre's seats.

[Spectre]

More lovely unlady-like language spilled forth from Spectre as her white-clad form was dusted with Veronica's blood. Unhooking her seat restraints, she scrambled outof her seat to assess the damage done to their mercenary.

Saladin could handle the homosapiens...

"Hold still, Pumpkin!", Spectre commanded. She didn't want to do it, but if she had to she would force the other mutant's compliance, until her wounds were treated.

It might be the more merciful choice given the situation..

Two large pieces if shrapnel were wedged into Veronica, the bleeding was profuse. Spectre probed a bit to see how deep they were, they bled more.

She needed medical attention..

[Jack Brocius]

"Steady! Steady!"

The wash of the Carl Gustav rocket displaced just enough air to cause the Little Bird to sway, and the pilot pivoted ever so slightly at the blast.

Jack closed his eyes for a second, and exhaled slowly, letting the sounds of rotor blades, of explosions, and of the skid gunner's still-chattering SAW fall out of his mind. He opened his eyes, and squared up a shot through his optics.

KA-TOW!

Hardly dramatic considering the fusilade of rockets and machine gun fire, but Jack's .338 Lapua blended metal boattail found what he wanted to hit. A relatively clean hole punched through the plexiglass cockpit bubble of the Bell, leaving blistering and a few hairline cracks in the immediate periphery of the plexiglass.

Perhaps the same shot did worse to the helicopter pilot, Jack's intended target.

[Saladin]

"Damn..."

Veronica was down, and not in a condition to provide suppressive fire. And now Gyro had been hit, a bullet to the left side of his chest, probably puncturing a lung. The pilot choked and just managed to keep a grip on the flight yoke to keep the helicopter from dipping. But they were, more less, dead in the air.

Saladin gained his feet again, seemingly mindless of the enemy firepower turned in his direction.

"Gyro, keep us steady if you can! Spectre, see if you can do anything about that skid gunner!"

The little bird was moving fast across his field of view, difficult to get a lock on. The convoy, on the other hand...

There was a flash of green, and the interstate immediately in front of the Suburbans breached upward, turning into an immobile asphalt wall twenty feet high.

Then it crashed down, hundreds of tons' worth, down onto the Praetorian convoy.

[Veronica]

Her senses sharpened again. The world took on a keeness not previously present. With Spectre distracted, she could move freely.

Veronica yelled. She compelled her body forward, despite the shrapnel lodged god knew what against in her back. Blood oozed into her undergarments, but the pain had become distant. Maybe her spinal column was damaged, despite her working legs. Her hands wrapped around her rifle. She pulled it free with a grunt. Her left hand ran up and down the weapon. The tactile sensation was otherworldly, and so intense it nearly hurt.

She bit her lower lip and slid the rifle out from behind the armored door. She could see the bullet trajectories from the skid gunner. All she needed was a glance at the top of his head through the scope. It came easily.

The report of the weapon wouldn't be heard by it's victim. The super-sonic bullet cored it's way through the skid gunner's skull, killing him instantly.