Wild Hunt (Language)

Summary:
June 06 2014: Partisan's latest Hydra target turns out to have a few more tricks than the last.

State Route 95

An eight mile stretch of blacktop winding outside New York's busy downtown district.


Characters

NPCs

  • Thomas Eyrenes

Mood Music:
[*]


State Route 95 passes right through New York City, dodging the worst of Downtown and connects Gotham and NYC quite directly. Further out the traffic tends to slow, but at two in the afternoon about eight miles from the city center, it's moving just fine. Thomas Eyrnes is relaxing at the wheel of his Mercedes-Benz AMG Black. Sure it's a bit on the ostentatious side but… what's money for if it can't buy you the finer things in life?

"Thomas Eyrnes. Age forty two. Department of Defense contractor specializing in high tech acquisitions. Known to funnel useful pieces of tech to Hydra R and D for theft or threat analysis." Jericho says, watching the man's bio slide by. "He's also got connections to the Juarez Cartel and may be into human trafficking as well. All around nice guy. Known interests are fast cars, fast airplanes…" He chuckles. "And, of course, treason."

*

It doesn't look like much, really. Just another anonymous boxy 80s car, which is sort've the point of it all. It's hard to find good cars for this sort've thing without OnStar and GPS and all that other useless bullshit, which is why Part prefers the classics. Lifting a gloved hand to neatly buckle the side bolsters for that five point harness. She'd picked it up in the classifieds on a whim months ago, only now it was getting called into action. A 1988 BMW M3 Sport evolution, which had spent most of its prior life as a NASA pro-rally rally car. The motor had been worked to deliver an even four hundred horse from that naturally aspirated straight six, titanium control arms, titanium A arms, titanium reinforcement along that already stiff chassis. Qualfie diff, gutted interior, roll cage, and all the little things that make a race car. "Right side, ten seconds."

She pauses to reach back and produce that GM-94, before offering it over to Aspect. Then she drops down to fourth, hitting the blinker as she coolly slips into the fast lane. Those neat pilotti shoes pressing the throttle gently, just enough to slowly gain on the Merc. Careful to keep an empty lane between her otherwise boring black BMW and the bright shiny new Merc. She didn't need to frag her getaway car after all.

*

Jericho takes the grenade launcher, making sure the barrel stays both pointed away from anything important and, for the moment, out of reach. He's watching less net and camera traffic than usual so as to also keep an eye out on their surroundings. This time it's just police traffic and news reels. This'll probably show up on both if it gets hot.

Eyrenes isn't paying much attention to anything but getting to his meeting on time. He's a very busy man after all. His car, though, well, it's not exactly stock. And it's keeping an eye on everything. Doppler RADAR, laser imaging system… collision avoidance, he tells the police. Well… kind of.

*

Back in the day, it was the M3 and the Merc 190E evos. Yet here we are again, seperated by twenty years of technological development. That M3 got lighter, more powerful, more agile. The Merc got comfier, fatter, obscenely overpowered and outrageously expensive. It's the showdown for the ages, between the two biggest names in performance coupes. "Clear to fire, take him Aspect."Gloved hands gently flipping the ECUs over to race, before that Qualfie outback engages.

Partisan had done this sort've thing many times of course, though last time she had a Renault Alpine. The BMW actually had a mythical device as a trunk at least, so it had that going for it right? "Traffic is clear, hurt his motherfucking feelings."

*

Several things happen at once. Jericho brings the grenade launcher up to his shoulder and sights in on the car professionally. In the instant between when he squeezes the trigger and when the grenade impacts, the boot of the Benz folds away to reveal something that looks vaguely like a mechanical scorpion stinger. A crimson beam lances out, detonating the grenade about five feet from the car itself. The rear of the Benz takes a massive beating… but holds. "SHIT!" Jericho snaps, re-sighting on the PDW.

"SHIT!" Thomas snaps to himself as alarms blare in his car. He can see it behind him. Black BMW, two occupants, one with a grenade launcher. Time to go. Now. Shifting his own car into "race" mode he floors the accelerator.

*

"Oh fuck me, get the 21E!"She'd brought the GPMG along "just in case", even welded a pintle mount onto the dashboard because this is the Partisan right? Always have a contingency plan. Still, a big fucking laser hardkill system? Jesus Christ he had toys. "This is so fucking awesome."She -STOMPS- the throttle, and with an audible pop the headers force the relief valve open to the sound of that hard tuned straight six. Singing as she ratchets up into fifth.

Sure the Merc pulls a car length or two before things stabilize, that six speed is a little wider cogged uptop and well she's naturally aspirated. The motor needs to sing a little before things settle down and the Rally car offers a stout -pop- of flame from the tail pipes before it veers around an ancient panel van and sweeps smoothly across three lanes of traffic to put a semi momentarily between the BMW and that big Merc. " C'mon Aspect, cowboy the fuck up!"

*

Jericho settles the machine gun on the pintle mount and takes aim. "911 just literally went off the hook. Police choppers are scrambling." He does a quick visual sweep on the car. This thing's a goddamn Bond-mobile. "Watch it. I can see gun ports hidden in the tail lights. Might have a few other toys too." He snaps off a burst on the rear left tire. "Damn. He would have run-flats."

Eyrnes car certainly looks like a Bond-movie prop from the inside. But it's deadly serious. He hits a button on his center console. All weapons engage free. The 'Stinger' on the back glows red and then pulses out several bursts of light at Parti's rally car once it clears the Semi.

*

"Fuck his shit, go cyclic!"She lifts the throttle just a touch to dial in the oversteer as she cranks the wheel hard back across traffic, splitting the difference between a semi and a Minivan before sweeping back into the fast lane. Down into fourth, before she rolls the throttle back on. Sweeping onto the shoulder to sweep past a Prius by inches before she can get Aspect back into a firing position. "Chew him up, work the glass it'll penetrate eventually!"

"Roger that." Jericho lets rip with the HK, his stream of fire pretty well dead on. Glass spiderwebs and cracks as bullets slap into it. After the first few hit, the Merc gets the basic idea. Even bullet proof glass will give way eventually. It puts on another boost of speed from *somewhere* and begins to weave in and out of traffic, slapping a Harley with a hard sideswipe to put an ancient station wagon between them before accelerating and sending a Focus into a spin out toward Parti as it noses past the rear fender. "Police interceptors deployed." Jericho reports, still firing whenever there isn't another car between him and his target. "They'll pull in behind us at the next on ramp."

*

The trim little Bimmer is not so easily dissuaded, and with terrier like tenacity it goes after the merc. It sweeps right, before snapping back to the left in a subtle little power slide around that station wagon. The Focus is more of a problem, the rear swinging wider as that motor -screams- Then, in goes the clutch as the wheels get jerked back in the other direction. The result is -VIOLENT-, the rear snags traction as the front looses it and it sets the BMW in a neat little spin right past the Focus. As soon as it's clear, the motor -screams- once more. Snatching third and setting off amid a cloud of gray tire smoke. Part's clutch work is, notably spot on just like her wheel work. A mixture of experience and those downright superhuman reflexes at work. "Pop smoke and pitch it out the window, ten second intervals then get that gun working. Buy us a little time, I'll be on his ass by then anyway."

*

Jericho nods again, popping the glove compartment which is, surprise, full of smoke grenades. He pulls the pin on one and chucks it onto the pavement. Ten seconds later another. Then a third.

Though they can't see them it certainly sounds like about half a dozen interceptors are somewhere behind them, but lacking for the most part either Eyrenes' will to just smash things in his way or Partisan's skill and reflexes, the smoke and mayhem in the wake of the chase is slowing them down a lot.

Ahead Eyrenes' stinger pulses again, slewing las-bolts at Partisan in an effort to slow or stop her. About this time a pair of 7.62 machineguns mounted in the back open up as well, chattering off short bursts every time they acquire the sporty little BMW.

*

Partisan sets her jaw as that first las-bolt fizzes by the driver side close enough to singe the paint on that mirror. "That mother fucking cunt nuggety son of a bitch!"She rolls the throttle off just enough to shoot the gap between a pair of SUV's before stomping the gas once more to shoot behind the cover afforded by a eighteen wheel-…oh fuck. The moment it dawns on her that it's a tanker truck, she squeezes that trigger on the shift knob and audibly -STOMPS- the gas.

Water, simple water is the secret here. A fine mist of it flooding the cylinders just as the carburetion is ignited, and the result is twofold. As water expands twice what gasoline does when burned, the steam ups the compression ratio. This is worth a rather considerable surge of power, but unlike NOS it doesn't over oxygenate the mixture. The steam instead absorbs much of the heat inside the cylinder wall, bringing down comparative cylinder temperature and allowing the engine to suffer this short term abuse. It's sufficient to make the rear wheels chirp at the top of fifth gear though, and into six as Partisan guides that BMW up past the Merc. "Brace!"Sweeping back across the road -HARD- in an attempt to sideswipe the Merc hard enough to force it off the highway.

*

Jericho does brace, though the moment they make contact he's back on the gun with a fresh belt, firing into a window already dangerously compromised by the impact. Eyrenes has one more tick up his sleeve though. He turns with Parti, throwing his handbrake to put him into a spin. As he does the laser system lances out at the tanker truck, taking out several wheels and causing it to slowly jack-knife. Moments later Eyrenes, his abilities and reflexes critically compromised by Partisan's swipe, loses control of his own spin and shoots across the road, bouncing off the center divider.

*

Usually Partisan keeps a lid on using her powers out in the open, but every so often she does things. Those totally inhuman things, she hits her belt's quick release, kicks the door open and dives out at an easy sixty miles an hour. She rolls once, before her shoes find pavement and drive out against the slide. Bringing her to a fifteen foot slide as she pops back upright, before she's off. Legs pumping hard, whisking her up to a pace that could make a race horse envious. Clearing a frantic Camaro in a single leap, before she's ontop of that Merc.

She drops a knee, whipping out a diamond edged file, before swiftly scoring a rough square in the passenger window. Then in a single swift motion, out comes that stubby .44 magnum from under her jacket. -BLAM-, and the scored section of glass pops into the cab with authority. She reaches in, pops the lock and rips the door open before reaching in to grab Eyrenes by the collar and drag him out onto the pavement before she goes to work. Dropping that revolver, as one hand grasps him by the throat. Her right hand sweeps back, sweeping foreward with a flash of steel as she drives that kerambit into his groin. "Look me in the eye and die like a man you fucking cocksucker!"

Eyrenes tries to scream, really he does but she's got one hell of a grip on his throat. As that murderous steel claw is pressed upwards, severing intestine, and cutting his stomach wide open right there on the roadway. She halts below his ribcage, before diving that gloved hand into her sternum. Ripping his heart free with toothy grin only partially hidden behind the shemagh tied around her face. "Fucking cunt, your lucky I don't have the time to make this last."

Part steps free, tossing that meaty organ towards the fire. Then just as casual as can be she snags that revolver and stuffs the knife away, walking towards the BMW. "How's that for a hat trick, eh? Three to zip, and we got a mighty big list to go." Casually swinging the cylinder of her revolver free to pluck the lone empty out, and replace it with a fresh round before holstering back up. "You want his Cell you better hurry."

*

Jericho has a hell of a time bringing the suddenly driver-less BMW to a more or less controlled stop, but he manages. Without damaging it, even. By the time he's managed to get everything more or less in order she's already finished the job. "Three down, forty seven to go, yeah." He flashes her a smile, his adrenalin pumping from the chase. "Yeah, I'll want that. Want to keep that list fresh, right?" There isn't a whole lot of time so he flies the two hundred plus yards between the two cars, back with the cell and his PDA in almost literally a flash. "Boys in blue still haven't gotten their choppers on us. But we'll want to be long gone from here before they do."

*

Partisan slumps in the driver’s seat, pausing to sling still warm blood on the roadway before pressing the soggy glove onto the stick shift and swinging the door shut. Rolling the throttle a few times, just to make sure. Once her compatriot has returned, well she's off in a flash. Lighting it up in first, and quickly snagging second as she rockets down the now abandoned freeway. "I need an exit, you're navigating."Just as calm as ever, wait did she calm down after she murdered that dude? Anywho, she's already tugging her harness back together. "You wanna keep the 21, by the way?"

*

Jericho pats the weapon as he puts it back in it's place, so as not to be seen by prying eyes in the sky. "Sure, if you don't want it. Nice little thing. Packs a hell of a punch." Reminds him of someone he knows, but he doesn't say that. "Exit on Roosevelt coming up and take a left. We'll drop down into the lower levels and be out of the borough before they figure out what they're even looking at." He sighs and sinks back in the seat. "Nice work there. You good?" She looks fine, but hey, it's polite to ask.

*

"Course, just bummed I didn't have enough time to make a spectacle out of it. Probably for the best, I think most of these heroes are going to end up coming after me if only out of righteous indignation that I'm comfortable with this degree of violence."She swings the BMW off on the exit, ratcheting down the gears and swiftly folding it seamlessly into traffic. Finally lifting a bloodied glove to tug down her shemagh, because well people don't drive in masks. "They act like putting a man in solitary confinement for life, is better than killing him. I've been in solitary confinement for a very long time, I know precisely how much bullshit that is. Like locking these pricks up, so they can pop out again and kill again is suddenly the moral high ground. You wanna know the truth, a hero is someone who does the hard things for the betterment of the people. Not somone who cops out so they can maintain the moral high ground, those are the fucks that piss me off."

*

Her companion sighs. "Most of these guys weren't getting put away anyway. Hydra's good at one thing if nothing else: Using the systems we build against us. Maybe if they weren't so pervasive there might be something to putting them away but as it stands? Even if we could there'd just be another there next week. Without dismantling their network, one corpse at a time, there's no hope of ever rooting them out."

*

"This is the way of things, the god awful truth of it all. Violence is the only answer for most of the world's problems, violence and conviction in equal measure. Nobody who hasn't seen evil, who hasn't done it can ever change anything. You have to be a complete person first, and part of that is doing evil. Without the perspective, everything is just a fucking abstraction." Part swings that BMW down an alleyway, before pulling around near a pair of shipping containers. "The whole, don't kill thing is just so fucking arbitrary and so much bullshit."

*

Jericho chuckles humorlessly, watching their surroundings. He'd kind of been wondering what she was planning on doing with this thing when they were done with it. "Well, three in as many attempts, I promise you Hydra is getting the message if no one else." He rubs the back of his neck, the lingering threads of their planned ops here still bothering him. The organization was so decentralized, operating in so many cells, sometimes operating at cross purposes it was hard to figure what their endgame was. But it was big this time, he was positive. "Where you headed now?"

*

"I don't care about them getting the message, they can totally misunderstand it for all I care. The point is that anyone else thinking of starting some private buddy fuck club like Hydra, they'll get the picture." Climbing out as she kills the engine before circling around to the trunk which she pops and begins to deposit gear. Shemagh, gloves, knife, gun, chisel, shoes, the usual. "I think I'm going to get a pedicure, and then I'm going to smoke a rather impressive amount of pot and read a good book. Why, you got plans?" Dr. Bronners cleans off blood apparently, because thats what she's using on her hands.

*

Jericho shakes his head, watching her… clean up. "Not for a while. Going to head down to Gotham late tonight to see what holes the snakes are crawling in there. Until then though…" He shrugs.

*

"So let me ask you, straight up. I don't have any illusions about us being friends, but I'd like to think maybe we will be one day. So don't lie to me, or my feelings might get hurt." Rinsing off the soap with bottled water, before Part moves to pop open a shipping container and with little apparent effort? Out comes a 1971 black Mustang fast mach, which she sources her regular street clothes out of. "When was the last full day that you took off and just had to yourself? No digital skullfuckery, no running around saving people or snooping or whatever. When was the last full day you spent like a regular fucking civilian?"

*

The hacker runs his hand through his hair and gives that an honest minute's thought. "Been about a year, I guess. It was a Friday morning Hydra kicked down my office door in my comfy civilian life and turned my whole existence into…" He gestures vaguely about them as if to indicate what she's seen him doing and what they've done together." Haven't really taken a proper day off since then. For months I wasn't even able to sleep for more than a couple hours at a time. Kept waking up, worried that if I stayed in one place too long they might find me." He pauses for a moment, thinking back on those early days and then shakes his head and brings his focus back on her. "Yeah, about a year, it's been."

*

Partisan nods softly "Turn off your cellphone, you're spending the day as a civilian and you're coming with me. I can't have you snap, you need to decompress. Even if you can't see it, I sure as fuck can. So don't fucking argue with me, and no I'm not going to force you to get a pedicure." On goes that M-65 of hers, followed by her ballcap. Then she shoves the BMW into that shipping container and gets to locking it up. "You're not a pussy, but you're only human."

*

Jericho is still for a moment and then cracks a smile and nods. He closes all his connections to the net, even the ones he has constantly open to track people closing into him. And he dumps the stolen PDA and Cell from Thomas into the little pack he'd squirreled away in the back of the beamer and leaves that behind too. "That… that sounds nice actually." He loses his jacket - His shirt has long sleeves so it'll cover the circuit trace markings on his arms - and fixes his faded brown ball cap with a nod.

*

Partisan climbs into the driver seat of that Mustang with a sigh. "You need a hobby dude, what did you do for fun before this started?" The interior smells like, cigarettes, hot leather and hoppes #9. There's no CD player, just an AM/FM stereo. Hell the only hint this isn't some restoration, is the bars and harnesses never mind the gauges. The a -SNARL- that 429 rolls over and comes to life with a low meaty noise, god loves a big block V8 right?" Also how're you on chow? Got a preference? My treat."

*

"I picked up a taste for shawarma back in Afghanistan in '08. I here there's a pretty good place out near Hell's Kitchen." He says as he buckles in and she puts the mustang in gear. Ah that leather feels good. Funny how he hadn't really noticed the BMW's interior. And hot food… suddenly sounds really good…

*

Partisan lights her menthol, before easing out into traffic. "Shawarma it is then my boy, and before you get any funny ideas? Think of me as your hundred year old, werewolf big sister. Got it young man?" She doesn't really wait for an answer of course, as she hits the radio and lets it play. Play anything, anything but the news….


Back to: RP Logs

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 License