"If anything about this operation could be considered to be subtle," Moten says. He checks his new assault rifle. "If these drop boxes have been around as long as it sounds like they have, local kids or some hunter may have found them by now, which means anyone could know where they are. I'd be ready for a trap."

Moten and Peter arrive back at the makeshift aid station where Artis is tending to Ayumi's wounds, occasionally tazering the little Illiavic to keep her in check. Using navigation maps taken from the chopper they find Vyshgorod of the map. It's a relatively large city on the shores of the Dnieper River.

Now all they have to do is find a way to get there.

----

"Turn here." instructs Nightengale to Jess, steering the van on to a small side road. A few klicks, they pass by a series of warning signs. Elena can't help but comment.

"Er...why are we going to military airport?"

Nightengale crows his head around.

"This facility was abandoned years ago after your government saw fit to takes all of its marbles and go home."

Elena shakes her head.

"Typical British arrogance. If your theory is correct. Why then (pointing forward) is two men guarding entrance?"

Jess slows the car somewhat for approach.

"Are they on our side, Sir, or do we need to convince them?"

Nightengale pulls out a small set of binoculars from his coat, looking downrange at the gate.

"They're not ours and from their dress, I'd say they're not regular army. Mercenaries perhaps. At any rate, this was not on the agenda."

(checks watch)

"Our plane arrives in fifteen minutes. We need to be on the tarmac in ten."

Elena liberates the duffelbags from the back compartment and throws them on to the rear bench seat.

"Let's see what Santa Claus bring us."

(gear list to be posted in the OOC thread)

"I have the sinking feeling we'll be driving this next leg of the trip in a Volga", Artis says as he folds the map and begins hunting for a prime car to GTA.

"There's a good side to it, though. Atleast you won't blow up my hard work."

"No time for the recon-ing the area. There are only two guards and they look more preoccupied with nursing the bottle of vodka they're passing between eachother. The gate is chain-link and this van will easily go through it. We're going to wait until the pickup time nears. No sense crashing the party when our getaway isn't even within sight." says Nightengale, keeping his eyes fixed on the gate.

(looking down at his watch)

"We go in five or whenever those two drunks spot us. Whichever comes first."

----
Transit Highway 701, somewhere outside of Kiev.

Staying in the bushes off the main road, Team A hikes toward their destination being mindful of any possible means of transportation. A few kilometers behind them, Ayumi spots a driver minding the flat tire on his Mercedes. It looks like he's got the spare almost on.

Peter looks at the car, the slightest hint of tears in his eyes.

"Oh, will you look at that...well, I guess I shouldn't be surprised, it's just...oh God. This must be a dream. It even looks like it still has the original paintjob. In-cre-dib-le!"

He looks over to Art.

"Can we steal it?"

"That sounded like a question - you're talking to a car thief. Allegedly." Artis sneaks off to acquire some new wheels, motioning Peter with him in case talking needs to happen.

Listening to her rather critical evaluation of Nightengale, Brian's beginning to like Elena more. If nothing else, Jess has good taste in dangerous sidekicks.

"You want me to get out and cover the van on foot? In the event you know, there's more than two, and their less than drunk?"

Jess eyes the two mercs with disdain.

"I could just give them a taste of the bumper, no need to waste ammo..."

"What the hell?"

[color=orange:ba851b3c9e]Bzzzrp![/color]

(slumps over unconscious)

Artis hits the hapless driver just as the man tightens the tire's last lugnut. Without hesitation he fishes the man's keys out and pops the truck, tossing the poor follow inside and slamming it shut.

----

Quote:

"I could just give them a taste of the bumper, no need to waste ammo..."

Nightengale phone rings.

"Understood. I have got two potential hostiles at the front gate, but should no problem. You worry about landing. We'll take care of the rest. See you on the ground. Good luck."

(closes phone)

"That was our dear friend Mr. Dalton. He says he was just picked up by an IR tracking beam five miles out. Probably an SA-18..maybe even a Stinger. That confirms our suspicions that those two chaps minding the gate aren't just regular security. We're going to need to run interference for Dalton. Osprey, find yourself a spot in one those trees and give us the play-by-play. Everyone take a hand radio and keep the channel open. We move for that gate as soon as Osprey is in position."

Jess frowns.

"Naughty little boys, I ought to have a stern word with their parents...when I'm done with their bones, that is."

Brian smirks. "Have fun with these two...women are scary when they're angry. These two especially."

He steps out of the car, taking the rifle with him and shuts the door as quietly as possible before advancing to a good observation point.

More than two, less than drunk...

The trip to Vyshgorod is uneventful, save for a routine traffic stop that almost goes horribly wrong. Milliseconds from tazing the hapless policeman, Artis' false credentials somehow hold up against the cop's scrutiny. Something about "damn tourists" is heard from the cop as he walks back to his patrol car.

They cruise into Vyshgorod and head for the dropbox. After some searching in a long since abandoned bomb shelter from the second World War, Artis finds a false floor. Buried under mounds of dust, fallen concrete, and general disuse is a sealed stainless steel container.

Peter struggles to get the digital lock open. Artis, impatiently waiting, decides on the universal lockpick...a 7.62mm FMJ round to its housing.

Inside is the following:

- Satellite Phone: Not exactly a SATCOMM, but it'll do the job. The good thing is that its battery works.
- Glock 23 pistols (2)
- 4 extra clips of .40 cal ammo
- Area map
- Police radio
- 2 Vox-mikes

----

Outside the airfield

Brian finds himself a good scouting position and keys the radio.

In position. Have clean shots on the two hostiles at the gate. One keeping watch on the control tower. Two UAZs on the far end of the tarmac. One high-end Lada parked at what appears to be an administrative building. Airstrip itself appears to clear of debris. I count four other hostiles in the general vacinity.

"Copy that, Osprey. Liquidate targets on my mark."

Nightengale looks at his watch.

"Mark."

Osprey's first shot goes through-through the first merc's chest, the other spinning around second.

Jess floors the van's accelerator and speeds toward the gate. By the time she reaches it, Brian takes out the wounded guard with a few well-aimed shots. The thin fencing crumples underneath the heavy van, spiderwebbing the windshield but otherwise causing only minor damage to the vehicle.

As expected, the airfield goes batshit. Mercs previously engaged in small talk about their Crimean mistresses or taking piss-breaks come to attention, responding to the disturbance in a disorganized fashion.

"Osprey. Try and pick out the guy with the SAM. He's your primary target. Dalton can't land until it's taken out."

Jessica grins, making the car tear up the tarmac and aiming at free-standing opponents. If they're busy dealing with her, Brian will have an easier time taking them out from behind...

"Scream if you wanna go faster!"

"Right"

Brian rises from his observation position, and begins a very agressive advance toward the airbase, following the path of mangled fencing left in Jess's wake. Moving in a tactical crouch, his rifle up, Brian quickly begins scanning back and forth for the missle-armed merc while taking care of any of those that get in the way, or look like their going to cause a problem for the rest of the team.

Come out, come out, wherever you are...

Jess manuevers the van around the building compound, the vehicle taking a few indirect hits from small arms as Elena and Carla provide suppressive fire with their weapons.

It's been a while since Brian's had a target-rich environment. No signs of the SAM give the Brit a chance to cut down the general opposition. He takes sight on one of closer gunman trying to hose down the van. Holding for a better shot, he softly squeezes the trigger and sends one downrange and buckling the merc's leg at the knee. The man goes down, grappling on to his blown-out appendage and shrieking in pain.

"Nightengale to Woodstock, clearing out the henhouse." remarks their intrepid leader, as Jess splatters one of the mercs with the front end of the van.

Brian pans his scope across the tarmac and as he targets another merc, he picks out the silhouette of an SA-18 who was apparently hiding behind one of the UAZs.

Knowing the magnitude of his next shot, Brian steadies himself and slows his breathing down.

Gotta make this one count.

Bullets rake across the van's rear quarterpanel, popping the back right tire and Jess barely manages to keep the top-heavy vehicle from rolling over.

*squeeze*

Brian's shot takes what seems forever to get to its target, but the tell-tale mist of blood and ragdolling brings him quick relief.

Jess tries to steady the vehicle as it screams over the tarmac.

"Okay, when I say 'Bail!', I mean it. Everybody got that?"

Brian grins in satisfaction, proceeding to make his way towards the now bullet-riddled vehicle to help his friends disembark. His voice is calm and rather good-spirited, considering the circumstances, over the tactical radio.

"This is Osprey...fox in the hen-house is taken care of."