RP: Bastardpiece Theater [Bastardpiece Theater] Bastard Operations: Ghosts in the Snow

"You heard the voice in our heads, ma'am. Come on, now." Kurt walked over to the woman and handed her one of the pistols that he picked up from the recently departed gang members. "One full magazine. Make those shots count." Kurt did a press check on his pistol to ensure that he had a round chambered and switched his magazine out for a full one.

Kurt reached out and grabbed the waist of her pants and pulled her a little too close to him, in order to briefly whisper into her ear "Keep up appearances." He then pulled away and motioned for her to follow him. Now using a normal volume on his voice, "I'm not trying to get into your pants, I swear. But if we come under fire I can't have you running away, plus I can pull you in behind me. I know you don't have armor."

Kurt would then make his way to the door. "Everyone into the car, now. Dex, give Dick the MG. I don't want my medic going down because he's drawing fire with a heavy weapon. Dick, I want that MG pointed out the back of the car. Don't let any vehicles get beside us." Kurt stopped for a moment to grab the shotgun that one of the gangsters dropped.

Pulling buckshot and slugs out of the pockets of the gangster and loading his gun up, he put the excess shells into his coat pocket, put his two handguns in his right front and back pocket, and covered the door of the building. "Dex, Dick and Fian are in the back. Crowd the VIP back there behind you guys towards the front of the vehicle. Kira,"

Kurt would begin to pull the armor off of his body and, making his way to the car with Sawaka, threw the armor into Kira's lap. "Put it on. I can't have my driver being shot." Keeping his shotgun at the ready with slugs loaded first, Kurt put Sawaka between himself and the door of the vehicle until the rest of the team piled into the car.

"Fian, you're in charge of keeping her safe back there. Let's move."

Dick kept his pistol in his hand as he waited for the MG. He wanted to be ready to take it, but he also did not want to be unarmed if someone unwanted arrived early.

"I'll get it done," the pharmacist replied to Kurt, "Everyone just has to keep their heads down."

"Faster, faster! No, no! Right!" Nacon yelled at Kira. "Yes, that wa - no! The other right!" Tires screeched and squealed as the Delsaurian squawked, the car swerving down streets coated in salt and half melted ice. He was leading them somewhere, but hadn't said a word as to where exactly yet. "Ok, you're almost there, just a little more and you can park the car up ahead in the alleyway. You all have to ditch this car, and get out....NOW!"

As they rounded the last bend, a voice crackled over the radio. "That you making all that noise?"

Ahead of them, a MUFFIN MAN delivery truck sat idling. A man in a long cold-weather jacket and wearing a furred cap stood beside it, smoking a thin cigar above his scarf. He raised his hand to slow them, but kept the other within his jacket.

With his free hand, he pointed to a spot back behind the truck, indicating they should park or stop.

"Yes, that's him! Everyone - get out of the car and into the truck!" the Delsaurian was now yelling. "Hurry, hurry, hurry! They're already at it and hot on your trail! And toss that girl in the shielded trunk inside!" he quickly added to them all. In moments, they burst into motion, hustling to quickly file into the armored muffin carrier. Like a sack of potatoes, and with just as many objections coming out of her mouth, the VIP girl they were rescuing was tossed into a heavy lidded container before having the lid slammed shut. "Phew!" the Delsaurian sighed in relief over the comms. "That's half of the dangerous part. Now new guy - hurry up and do what I told you to do before we get them going!"

The shrouded Driver, in the meanwhile, opened the door of his cab and pulled out a small round cylindrical object, which he promptly turned and tossed into the trunk of the car they had drove in with. He slammed the door after it, hustled back to the cab, and swung himself up with surprising dexterity. With a composed nonchalance that did not suggest he were in any particular hurry, he placed the truck in gear and drove out of the alleyway, taking a left, towards the highway.

For a moment, silence lay heavy like a blanket. Then, the driver turned and peered back through a hatch into the back.

"You should be home free. Just don't shoot any holes in the vehicle you don't have to."

*****

Hands quick and deft, he moved it with deliberate precision.

And his men moved out of the shot up gang hideout like a whip in his grasp, a tool at his disposal and command. His men of course. The hired goons from the local trash were another story, and had to be herded like sheep by them. He strode out of the front doorway moments after they stormed out, ducking slightly to avoid hitting his head. The giant of a man wasn't happy in the slightest by the turn of events, and absolutely knew that She wasn't going to be either. Cringing behind his facemask, he made the call. "Ma'am, it looks like I won't need to shoot any of them. Someone already did that and took her for themselves - I'm sending my men out to search for her immediately while the building's being combed for any details."

He winced at the voice he heard and began to sweat in the cold nightmare that was Purgatory. As crisp and professional as he could, he replied.

"Looking at the marks incoming to our associates, bullets, no doubt about it. Mostly handguns, maybe a shotgun. And it looks like they stole an MG from the site. A nine mil. It's either the cats trying to play a game, or someone else in my opinion. Though, I doubt it's someone else." Hoping and even almost believing the bits of information would get Her into more of a thinking mood instead of kicking her PMS into maximum overdrive, the seven and a half foot tall man visibly cringed under an unseen assault. After all, who was he kidding? But, She did send him for a reason. He kept his cool.

"Yes ma'am - I'll keep you updated." He then turned to the fodder he brought along.

"ALRIGHT YOU SHIT HEADS, LISTEN UP! I'M GOING TO GENTLY SQUEEZE YOUR BALLS SLOWLY ONE AT A TIME BEFORE TEARING THEM OUT IF YOU DON'T FIND THE LITTLE BITCH - AND THAT'S NOT EVEN WHAT THE BIG BITCH WILL DO, GET ME?!?! YOUR BUDDIES FUCKED UP AND GOT OFF LUCKY, BUT NONE OF US WILL! SO FIND HER -

NOW!!!!!"

They arrived at the RV point so quickly that Dex had no chance to pass the MG off to Dick until they were in the van. Pulling the spare belts from his shoulders, he handed those to the man as well. "For some reason I find that hard to believe." mumbled the medic as he checked his Silver Special before holstering the weapon and leaning against the wall of the truck's container. Glancing over at Fian and Kira, he stood and made his way to Fian first. "Alright, mate. Let me get another look at that leg."

Everything moved like a well-oiled machine, even if training and some time in field had taught her that even the best plan was half-improvised once boots hit the ground. She got a gun and in that same instance some quickly whispered words of "advice". Keep up the act. So they hadn't known she was a Yamatain, or at least most of them didn't. While she was being pulled by her belt the VIP offered a vague nod for the man. From there it was just keeping quiet and doing her best to act like there was still a round buried somewhere in her stomach.

By the time she realized the man who wanted her to keep up the "act" wasn't the medic who'd been tending to her, she was already stuffed in to the back seat of the car.

It was uncomfortable enough to be handled like ground beef and smashed down behind three bodies in the back of some foreign-made hunk of metal, but it didn't end there. First she was bashed against both the front seats with every too-tight turn, grunting and clutching at her "stomach wound" where it would have been appropriate, and her pistol still locked tightly in hand. Somebody grabbed her and she barely caught a sign of the "MUFFIN MAN" name on the side of the truck before she was thrown in the back. And then thrown in to a trunk with the lid shut on her.

Sawaka groaned, looking around in the darkness of the trunk as she heard the muffled sounds outside. Just now her addled mind was starting to catch up with everything that was going on.

"I don't know who you people are," part of her wondered if the voice she had heard might still be able to hear her in the case, "but what's going on? Who are you?"

"Please, nobody answer her. Don't know where she's going, don't know where she's been, best to leave it that way for now."

The traffic seemed reasonably light in the evening, and as far as Lucky could tell, they were making progress. Their pursuit, however many there were, would likely take the bait offered by the parked car in the alleyway, and give them enough time to mix with and disappear in heavier traffic. Any other pursuers would probably speed right past the delivery van, not knowing it to contain any of their quarry. The urge to relax cloyed for his permission, but as he ashed his cigar, he shook it off and refixed his focus grimly.

On the seat beside him, a sawn-off Westech kept watch beneath a blanket. In a holster on his bulletproof vest, his Duster was concealed, fully loaded. Lucky was used to the pressure.

And then there was the hemosynth-smelling girl in the trunk. He had caught a whiff of her on the way by, and now the scent of leaking body-oil was mixing with the tinny, burnt smell of the blood of no less than two, maybe three other people. This was a sniff he'd sniffed before, and it had never, ever ended well.

No, he couldn't relax with a Nekovalkyrja around.

"Hey overwatch," he asked, quietly, into the microphone hovering discreetly inside his scarf, "got eyes on pursuit?"

As the drive ended, Kira now clad in vest given to her by Kurt, she climbed into the truck and watched the VIP be tossed into the armoured trunk. She did not care all that much, it was for the safety of the VIP. "I am very displeased. They shoots my earlobe off!" The girl complained as she slopped down at the back of the truck with a whimper. The stimulation shot let her drive with easy, but it could start wearing off any moment now.

"You safe in trunk, girl. You just wait." Kira ignored the driver and spoke to the VIP, knocking on the trunk. "And we are people who does not want to kill you, yes? That enough information for now."

Lucky glanced at the rear-view. He decided not to say anything to the woman about agitating the cargo. After all, she'd just come out of a high-stress environment, and Lucky could empathize a bit with her ear-injury. Probably, if he yelled at her now, she wouldn't respond well and it could compromise the operation.

And he didn't dare to ask whether they'd cleaned their blood or picked up the blown-off ear she was talking about. Lucky didn't want to know the answer.

He came up on a stop sign and rolled through it, exhaling a bit of thoughtfully mouthed smoke as he made the turn.

Finishing with Fian's leg, he wrapped the bandage around the wound. "I'll get you patched up completely when I can get my hands on some more supplies." spoke Dex before glancing at the driver through the little window. "You got a first aid kit here? I've got injured here. And the one in the trunk has a centermass wound." was all the man said before turning and making his way to Kira. "Alright, sweetheart. Let me see ya." while he pulled a small flashlight out of his pocket and looked at her shredded ear. "Nothing I can do about this. Though if it makes you feel better I can put a band-aid on it."

Dick made sure he was last into the truck to cover everyone hopping in before closing the doors as he embarked. He looked around at everyone hoping they could get themselves out of this easily enough without taking too much more punishment. When the pharmacist heard Dex ask about a first aid kit, he began to rummage around to see if he could locate one if the driver was too busy keeping his eyes on the road.

"Behind the seat, but don't open that crate she's in until we're somewhere safe."

Kira chuckled and sit back in the truck-bed. The movement of the vehicle was tossing them around, but it was okay. She finally sat down and that was great. That whole situation went by too fast for her. It was good to work with this team though. Old allies and what not.

"Ah a bandaid good. Could also kiss my forehead to make pain go away mum." Kira joked looking Dex at laughing a bit.

She'd like to say she was a whole new level of miserable, but even with her short life she'd have liked to say that she hadn't been through worse. Even if it was only training. Sawaka tried to ignore the truck's buffeting as she opened up her jacket and pulled up her shirt again. The bandage was blood-soaked enough but she could tell when she ran her hand over the spot of the wound that it had been healing up nicely. Sawaka just needed to keep up her appearances and keep their medic at a distance. The VIP quickly replaced the loose bandage and pulled her shirt back down to tuck it in so the bandage could stay in place. Next was making sure that nobody realized what was going on if they saw her. She couldn't really afford two groups of armed thugs trying to cut her up to get inside her head.

Plus, it was getting too warm in the trunk to be wearing a balaclava.

Sawaka focused herself and pictured herself in her mind. It was a quick, well-trained and practiced ability inherent to her nature. Bright orange eyes shifted to a much more reserved hazel colors, and deep black skin turned in to a pale white, and even her hair gained a deep brown color as opposed to the inky appearance it shared with her skin's real appearance. With that done she grabbed the balaclava and strap for the goggles in one handful and yanked them off. She shook out her hair as much as possible in the confined spaces. The pistol got a special place tucked away in the front of her belt-line as she searched through the pockets of her coat. When she couldn't find what she was looking for, panic flashed across her face as she rapidly began rechecking her pockets. It wasn't until she brushed her fingers across an inside zipper that she found what she was looking for. Once she was sure the package was still discreetly tucked away for nobody to find but her she relaxed a bit more as she once more grabbed the pistol.

"Behind the seat, but don't open that crate she's in until we're somewhere safe." She could hear the conversations going on and that line caught her attention. Maybe the driver, she thought. She couldn't remember.

"Um, sorry to be a bother," she tapped on the lid of the trunk to get the group's attention "but any idea when that's going to be? Its not like its roomy in here, you know."

Dick made his way, shakily, over to the seat and sat down before pulling the first aid kit out. Sighing at the apparent order to keep the VIP in the box, he opened the kit at least to see what was available. He wasn't a medical doctor by any stretch of the imagination, but the pharmacist figured he ought to recognize the items available and have an idea if anything necessary were missing.

A familiar, playful voice flitted over the comms at Lucky's question.

"Pursuit. Pursuit everywhere," the Delsaurian spoke. True to his words, a small aerial drone the size of a basketball flew overhead, drowning the muffin truck in red light. And just as quickly as it came, it left, lazily floating away. "The Malaisian Enforcers are pretty good, using drones and gangs as fodder in this business - they're like a small military or spy agency in that regard. Same with their organization. Very impressive!~" Nacon started to excitedly explain to the motley, weary crew like a fanboy. He stopped though, and went on to something more pressing. "It's no big deal to be honest, the drones. It's not like that model is smart enough to recognize if anybody's trying to actually hide something, and I know they don't have the upgrades for that, or even see in the container. Every piece of technology has its weakness after all, and those upgrades themselves would be the bigass price."

Despite stopping for a moment, a long 'Mmmmmmmmmmmmmm,' of thought came out of the little reptile as he mused some unsaid point. "As soon as you're all inside, start unloading those racks of muffins you're all cramped in with along with your gift - naturally, bring it upstairs into your room," the Delsaurian mischievously snickered in their ears. "I'd usually say don't open until Christmas, but, I think you all earned it!~"

Soon enough, Lucky brought the truck to a stop before backing it up into the rear loading area of a small business - a bakery - before the shutters slid closed. Safely inside, a key slid into the lock of the rear door, and with an achingly slow turn, opened it.

"Why, don't just stand there, come in!" a pleasant voice floated through the air to them all. A little old granny, her gray hair done up in a bun, greeted them all. "Just make sure to do your half of the work and offload those muffins - the room you're renting out is upstairs above the shop!" she added with a warm smile.

Lucky shut the truck off and tucked the key into the visor, then grabbed his shotgun and came out of the delivery truck.

The whole place smelled like cooked bread, which was alright – a bakery. It smelled more strongly than blood, even over his cigar. Same as when he had left it. No gunpowder, no bloodshed except for their own.

“If you’ve bled inside the truck, clean that up, there’s some ammonia with the first aid kit.” Lucky checked to see the safety was off on his shotgun, which it was. He then took a few paces back away from the truck, ashing his cigar in the loading area and giving the area a good once-over with his eyes.

It didn’t SEEM to have changed. He could afford to leave a few of them here, without supervision. The bakery was warm, but he decided not to take off his long winter coat, his scarf, or his fur ushanka just yet. The less complicated this got the better, and he didn’t particularly enjoy the idea that the crate-girl would be able to see his face. Or anyone seeing his face, really, at this point. Deciding quickly that the area was safe, he crushed the butt of the cigar out on the pavement, then kicked it somewhere nobody would notice.

“You heard the man. If you're injured, stay, fix yourselves, and then get rid of these muffin crates. If you're still whole, grab a handle on that crate and follow me. We need to secure the cargo before we can relax.”

"I'll catch up." replied the medic while he leaned over Dick's shoulder to glance in the first aid kit. It was rather well stocked for something that was meant to be a first response. "Alright. Kira. Fian. Stay where you are. Time to play doctor." spoke Dex with a chuckle while he grabbed antiseptics and fresh bandages and made his way to Fian first. "Alright, lad. This is gonna feel worse then the gunshot." mumbled the former marine as he pulled the bandage off of the man's leg. Not even giving the man a chance to protest, Dex poured some of the antiseptic into the wound on his leg before putting pressure on the injury. Digging into his own aid kit for the suture materials he would need, he deftly stitched the wound before wrapping a bandage around it. The entire time his cybernetic eyes scanned the wound for any complications. "Alright, mate. Good as new. One more thing." added the man before sticking him above the wound with a stim.

"Alright, beautiful. You're up." was all Dex said to Kira as he knelt down in front of the woman. Taking the pressure bandage off her arm, he gently extended it so the antiseptics would get into the wound fully. No warning was given as he poured the cleaning agent into her wound, before he began stitching it as well. "Almost done." mumbled Dex before cutting off the excess thread with a pair of trauma shears and wrapping the wound with a fresh bandage. Digging into the aid kit again, he pulled a box of band-aids out which led him to the question of why they were there, before peeling off the pieces on the adhesive and putting it on her ear. "Butterflys are just your style." said the man with a chuckle as the band-aid did indeed have a small picture of floating butterflys on it. Digging into the aid kit for other items he may need, before shoving them into his own kit and putting it away. "Alright. Let's get these crates out of here. I'll clean up the blood."

Seeing as how everyone seemed to be falling into place appropriately, Lucky turned and started his ascent.

He had to sidestep the old woman, whose name wasn't important to him. For that, he trusted the Delusarian overwatch. Nacon sounded like a little child, but Lucky assumed it was an act of sorts. The truely clever hid their cleverness. Everyone else merely had to get by with looking clever.

The room was on the second floor and the coat-clad, appropriately disguised helashio didn't waste time in getting there. Lucky tried the doorknob with one gloves hand, keeping the shotgun up at the ready with his other.

Dick handed the kit over and helped move the crate with the VIP inside, following Lucky out of the truck. He gave the old woman a kind, but curt nod as he passed by her then continued up the stairs. It took a little time, navigating with the load, but he arrived as the driver was messing with a door.

"Ma'am." Kurt would give a very short greeting to the old woman. "Thank you for the use of your facilities." Kurt would reach into his coat pocket and produce a white envelope, bulged slightly in the middle and showing some wear. Placing it in her hand and waiting for her to count the money, he did a brass check on his Shot 12 and took stock of the entire area.

"Lucky was it? Get the VIP out of that crate and check her over. I'm her safety to you while we get these fucking racks unloaded. However, do not debrief her until we are back at home base. Dick, once you get the VIP out of there come back down here. I need all the gunmen I can muster if they decide to crash our party." Kurt walked over to Dex, standing over the medic and his two patients.

"You're all doing an excellent job. Once we're back at home base we can see about getting you patched up even more, but for now I need your weapons trained on any entry point. Get them ready, Dex. Then help me with these fucking racks." Tightening the sling on his shotgun and keeping it slung tight against the front of his body, Kurt hopped up into the truck and began moving one of the racks.

"Overwatch," Kurt referred to the individual coordinating their operation on comms "ETA on any hostiles and possible extraction forces?"