Tue Mar 13 2012

Tue Mar 13 2072

There's something to be said for twelve big rigs upshifting in unison. Drivers start to spool up their engines, preparing to make breaks for it as required. Blindside coordinates with Sandman in Leviathan, as the sensor suite in Cerberus is not as good as it could be.

Taking direction on the upcoming roads across his headset, the halfer in the armored sports car calls out what he needs. A 5 percent upgrade, about a quarter mile and 88 miles an hour.

Sandman is confused for a moment - 88 miles and hour? Uh… miles. Drek. There's 1.6 kilometers in a mile… frag!

Cutting onto a back road while the convoy continues down the highway, Blindside zeroes in on the Ishani-3. The aircraft has come to a near hover in the air as it focuses its sensor suite, working to cut through the shielding on the rigs and the EMC that Leviathan is throwing out.

"Tango-Five to Travis. Tango-five to Travis. Tower, do you copy?" Lt. Akutagawa radioed through the static. The EMC coming off the convoy was strong, but the chopper is getting through intermittently. They are just uncertain what is getting through and what is not."

"Lt. Akutagawa! Sensors show a fast moving vehicle, coming up behind us."

Turning the Ishani-3 to get a Mark-I Occular Readout on the vehicle, the Lt. tilts his head slightly. "Shit." he says, seeing the muzzle flash of the autocannon before the shells impact. The canopy explodes into shards of ballistic glass, alarms and warnings going off around them as the chopper spins, guidance lost and starts to plummet to the ground. "MAY DAY! MAY DAY! This is Tango-Five! We are under attack! May day! May day!"

With Tango-five down, Blindside hustles his ass back to Scabbard. Roaring up into the interior bay while the truck drives at full speed, he exhales as the gun powers down with an electronic whine. "Frag me silly."

"No." Says Steel as the trucks detour off the main road, deciding to make an overland journey through the swollen delta of California's heartland.

It's not long before Gunz, riding with Sally in her mustang finds herself in a curious situation. Riding ahead of the convoy, there's a roadblock. It looks like Rio Vista, California has itself a good-ol-boy militia checkpoint. You know. Looking for Japs, Muties, Mages, Metas, negros and other such undesirables. That's real inconvenient for Gunz, being as she's one of those meta mage types.

Sally pulls the car over - because she's got a convoy at her back and there's just no room to maneuver. Stepping out of the car, Gunz runs a hand back through her hair. One of the boys from the line steps forward and gestures down the road to the row of trucks. "Sounds like yall done gotcherself a good convoy here. So here's whats gonna happen, babe." Says the man with the the shotgun casually lain back across his shoulder, before he spits to the side. "You're gonna lay me 10 thousand, certified, and then yer gonna step off to the side with me and show me some road hospitality… scan me?"

Gunz raises one eyebrow, shifting herself so that her hip is visible. And the big damn gun strapped to it. "One thousand… and you keep your teeth."

The 'negotiator' with the shotgun looks down the line of the trucks again, as Steel steps up on top of Scabbard, using the top hatch. Blindside and Bambi pull up in Cerberus. Sandman orients the top mounted sensor array from Leviathan on the roadblock. Sensor arrays - very dangerous looking.

"Uh… tell ya what sister, mebby I was a mite hasty… but on accounta I got no teeth.. what say you 2,000 and yall just… have a nice day."

Gunz just quirks the other eyebrow and then turns for Sally and Baby. "Reasonable."

Pulling into halferville's outskirts, in the shadow of the Martinez Petroleum Refinery, the convoy comes to a stop. Gunz, Sally and Blindside see to the loads while Steel and Sandman are on overwatch. The unloading proceeds very well, with the trucks all easilly transfered… but Steel… now Steel's a canny motherfragger. He knows his way around a package hand off… and these people are way to nervous.

Steel can't put his finger on it.. but the people are nervous. Grunting a nod to Sandman, the Cybered Ork lets the mage know he's uncomfortable. Sandman takes a moment to eye the group, but there's too much interference from their industrial location and he can't put his finger on it either.

Not until the trucks pull out and their 'new' guards have driven out of sight. "Uh." Says one young man, now that the other guys are gone. "You know… those weren't halferville guys. They got here earlier, and sort of took over the delivery point… said they'd gun us down if we told. You just handed off your cargo to The Manteca Irregulars… a go-gang thats been fecking with us for protection and such for months."

"Well Drek." Says Steel, his featureless plasti-steel face mask betraying as little emotion as one might imagine. "This mean we don't get paid?"

The roar of Baby's V-8 Detroit Muscle Engine comes sliding up behind Steel and Sandman to a stop, a door swinging open. "Stop talking and get in!"

Sandman shrugs as he tosses his Miller Lite (what a chump!) to the side, cursing as he slips into the passenger seat while Steel straddles the back. "This is like a bad fraggen trid."

"You talk too much." Says Sally, punching the engine and roaring off in pursuit while Gunz and Blindside reconfigure for the return trip.

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