Augment

[Guancyto]

"Most beautiful four words in the world. Starling, stop. I'm going to try something." Sliding around the object, Blue Jay makes sure Majestic is appropriately covered by the thing's sheer mass and brings Snowbird back to the other side. "Very sorry, sir, I'll need her for a second."

Putting one of the guns into her hands, he makes a rough sighting at one of the attack choppers, braces them both for recoil and 'helps' her pull the trigger. Kind of like helping a novice marksman aim, but with ambiguously dead people, he muses. Hopefully the DNA safeguards aren't quite that picky. If they're even capable of picking that sort of thing up.

[Baerdog7]

Starling

Have I ever told you guys how much I love you?

Starling grins and turns to fire his pistol at one of the helicopters, for all the good it will do.

[Voshkod]

They aren't that picky. Unsupported by Snowbird's augmented arms, the shots are hard to take, but effective enough. One of the attack helicopters ceases to be, blotted out by a fireball.

The net swoops toward the group, the helicrane pouring on the speed, as the last attack chopper unleashes a volley of rockets. Suddenly you're all floating on separate pieces of crumbling ice as the rockets impact. The net is about five feet away from Sparrowhawk.

[Baerdog7]

Starling

Oh look, I'm floating away. Awesome.

Starling grimly keeps shooting at the last chopper, dodging fire as best he can on his little chunk of ice.

Sparrowhawk, if you've got a plan you better do it soon before I float away to be King of the Lake!

[Dorizzit]

Sparrowhawk holsters his gun in an action faster and more fluid than any human could do. Laughing maniacally, he leaps high into the air, grabbing the net with one hand and hacking through it with his other arm's blade, rendering it useless to grab "it" with.
This done, he begins climbing the remains, scrambling until he's nearly at the helicrane itself before leaping up and grabbing hold of the side, metal crushing in his herculean grip as he desperately holds on. Clenching with his left hand, he draws his right hand back and slices through the side of the helicrane. He grabs the inside of the slice and pulls it open, until he can get in. He climbs in, looking at the people arrayed around him. He smiles grimly and unsheathes his blades, trying to avoid further harm to the helicrane. Even those on the ice can hear the screams.
Hopping into the (recently vacated) pilot's seat, Sparrowhawk flies closer to the last attack chopper before unleashing a quick burst of fire, carefully aimed at the same spot that made the other one he destroyed explode. Taking his time, Sparrowhawk carefully maneuvers to pick everyone up. When he picks up Starling, he asks, with a sardonic smile, "Good plan?"

[Baerdog7]

Starling

Good plan. Starling agrees, grinning as he climbs into the helicrane. He turns around to help bring the object and any of the others who aren't inside yet into the helicrane before taking his seat.

[Voshkod]

The inside of the helicrane is a charnal house of flesh and blood. Sparrowhawk may be efficient, but he is not hygenic when he works. Majestic boards without a second glance at the giblets. "Get that thing hooked up." He starts plugging some coordinates into a GPS. "Here's where we'll make pickup."

Within a few minutes, the thing is firmly attached, and Sparrowhawk heads aloft. Majestic pulls out a cell phone, dials. "This is Majestic Six. We have the item. It appears the Compact is broken, I recommend a face to face meeting at the opera house. Oh, and slag the target location." He hangs up, and pulls out a pair of sunglasses. "Better hope those optical dampeners are in order, boys."

A streak of light suddenly begins to descend from the sky. Behind you, a white flash, as the electronics of the helicrane flicker and spark. Blue Jay feels a near overload of some of his senses as the electro-magnetic pulse races by. A cloud of fire and dirt rises over the location of the encampment.

[Baerdog7]

Starling

Starling watches impassively as the encampment is levelled before his eyes.

Good bye Corporal Arkady Velnikov serial number 38-482-5810-2. You loyally served your country to the end. I hope you go to a better place than I am destined for.

He turns to Majestic, nudging a bit of vertebra out of the way with his toe.

Permission to speak freely, sir?

[Guancyto]

Blue winces as the wave of information washes over him, but after getting over it stares at the remains of the target site.

It isn't often that enhanced cognition only has one thing going through its mind, but every now and then it happens. Holy zen! We have an orbital death ray?!

[Dorizzit]

Sparrowhawk only whistles appreciatively at the destruction unleashed, the majority of his attention focused on flying the Helicrane. He waits to see if Starling's request is granted, having a few questions of his own.

[Voshkod]

"Granted, Starling," Majestic says, settling back in his seat. "What's on your mind?"

[Baerdog7]

Starling

What exactly is that thing and why were the Russians interested in it? Something tells me that it's not an alien pop singer.

[Dorizzit]

Sparrowhawk pipes up as well: "And why was Snowbird so obsessed with it?"

[Guancyto]

Blue Jay takes a look out the window, listening all the same. It would be a very interesting answer, he's sure, but the odds that it'll be a truthful one are about on par with winning the lottery. With last week's ticket. Ripped in half. Twice. And then set on fire. At least, that's what he tells himself.

[Voshkod]

Majestic lights a cigarette. "If the Russians knew the deal, they would have dropped a hydrogen bomb on it. They want a piece of the Forge." He sighs. "It all begin in 1945, when we blew a hole in the world . . . ."

Interlude - Eating Memories

On the wet grass, crying, clutching your stomach. "Get up and walk it off, you wuss! I'm not raising a goddamn pansy, boy!" He slams the football into your stomach again, laughing. Sparrowhawk is being reprogrammed.

His picture stands at your bedside, the crisp blue uniform, the flag behind him. "He was a good man, dear, and I wish you had known him," your mother says, stroking your forehead. "Someday, you'll . . . ." She starts to sob. Blue Jay is being reprogrammed.

"I won't let it happen," you hear your mother saying shrilling. "I don't care." Your father's voice, gruff. "No choice, dear, you know what they'll do. Remember what they did to Karen. They'll kill us to. We have to." She starts to cry. Starling is being reprogrammed.

Part Two - Put the Frighteners On

"We have a problem," says the first monitor. "A small press magazine has released some details on our recent operation in Russia. Not completely accurate details, but information nonetheless. We need to know how they found out what they know."

"Gentlemen," says Dr. Crane, "we've just finished reprogramming the augments to erase the information on the Russian operation. I recommend not revealing too much."

The sixth monitor crackles. "They did a damn fine job out there, as well."

"So the can handle this. Soft or hard?," says the fifth monitor.

"Both," says the first monitor. "Starling will work Rebecca Holm, editor and author of the article." A picture appears of a comely brunette, late twenties. "We'll provide locational info. Starling will use his various social assets to pump her for information before he terminates her. Blue Jay and Sparrowhawk will hit the offices of 'Strange Times' and put the frighteners on. Secure any data, and kill everyone in the place. Make it look like a robbery gone bad. Any questions?"

[Dorizzit]

Sparrowhawk asks: "What equipment will I have access to? I very much doubt someone attempting robbery would be wielding a singularity based railgun."

[Guancyto]

"I don't know about that. Nothing quite like antitank rounds for safe cracking," Blue Jay responds, "how secure is their network? If they're a small operation we could probably get some more information with a couple of keyloggers."

[Baerdog7]

Starling

Starling balances on the back two legs of his chair with his fingers laced behind his head.

What's my cover for this mission, or am I making up my own?

[Dorizzit]

"I was more referring to their financial state; if they are attempting armed robbery, I somehow doubt they would have sufficient funds to afford a weapon of that caliber, regardless-" he smiles slightly "-of the expedience of using such a weapon."

[Guancyto]

Blue puts a palm to his chin, musing on this a second. "Probably, but can't you buy a Soviet nuke for less than a hamburger these days? Maybe Hypertech-R-US was having a clearance sale?"

[Dorizzit]

Sparrowhawk chuckles. "Maybe."

[Voshkod]

The first speaker crackles. "Doctor, keep your augments in order." Crane shoots you a warning glance. The speaker continues: "You'll get more standard weapons. Sawed-off shotgun, pistol. The network is likely somewhat secure; but we want everything on it before we destroy it. This is not just about collecting information; this is about putting the frighteners on."

"If I may," monitor eleven pipes up, "we want the people asking questions dead. Why? Because it will scare the other people in their little community of conspiracy theorists. And they'll write even more absurd articles about the black government. And all right thinking people will sigh, and shake their heads, and complain about these 'nuts' using the unfortunate deaths of others to drive their agenda. So the conspiracy nuts end up even more marginalized, and a threat to our agenda is eliminated."

"Quite right," one says. "Starling, your motive is simple. She's cute, find her in a bar, and use all the tools at your disposal to get her talking. You come up with a name and history, we'll get you supporting ID."

[Dorizzit]

Sparrowhawk hangs his head, abashed, at doctor Crane's look. When hearing about his equipment, he lifts his head and nods solemnly.

[Guancyto]

Blue coughs. "I apologize. Anyway, we kill everyone, get all data available. If I may, I'd like to requisition a cellphone jammer, wire cutters, jump drives, ski mask, that sort of thing. Maybe a truck; would taking the more secure computers to crack later be acceptable? I have the utmost confidence in Starling's skills, but some corroborating evidence couldn't hurt."

[Voshkod]

"You can pull what you need from supply. Nothing too high-tech. Can't leave any real evidence, just speculation. If you need to take the computers, do it. Any other questions?"

[Dorizzit]

Sparrowhawk speaks impatiently: "I'll be ready as soon as I have my equipment."

[Baerdog7]

Starling

Starling nods.

I'm good to go as soon as my suit's pressed.

[Guancyto]

"I think I can work with that," Blue mulls, "no further questions."

[Voshkod]

The monitors go out. Doctor Crane takes a deep breath. "You all had better be more careful. The last thing you want is for them to start thinking you have personalities. Speaking of which, I need to go work on Snowbird. Take care out there." He opens the door to leave, revealing a massive black figure. "Ah, Condor, you must be briefing." Crane steps aside, and Condor enters the room.

He's huge, about seven feet tall and probably four hundred oddly shaped pounds. In bad light, he might pass for human, but otherwise he looks like he's smuggling an armored vehicle under a skin tent. A second generation comaug, you recall. His voice is a low grumble of metal and glass. "I got 'em, Doctor." You'd guess he was once a black man, many, many trips to the Forge ago. Crane slips out.

"Listen up. This one should be easy. The target is a small magazine called 'Truth,' based nearby in Las Vegas. Four staffers. One editor, Becky Holm. That's your target, Starling. After work, she frequents a bar near the offices, the Greenwood. Get close to her there, earn her trust, find out who leaked, and kill her. Other staffers include two writers and one tech guy. They'll be in the office, usually stay late, obsessed types. Blue Jay and Sparrowhawk, enter the building and kill 'em. Let's roll."

You all head toward the elevator. You're underground, you realize, in a very sterile environment. All steel and glass and armed guards. Signs read "ENHANCED OPERATIVE ENVIRONMENT." Condor leads the way, stomping heavily down the corridor. "So," he rumbles, "I hear Snowbird finally lost it. What went down?"

[Guancyto]

"You aren't- hell, what am I saying? We aren't cleared to know that, so you know it must've been good." Someday, Blue figures, they're going to go against an experienced enough enemy and get beaten senseless because the swiss-cheese memory means the oldest tricks in the book are brand spanking new.

"Hope it's temporary. She's handy to have around."